The SWAT officer raised his weapon to the screen. “Can’t we just blow it to pieces?”
“No!” Cole said. “That’ll only lock the current program into place. The virus must be out there at the sprinkler heads, just waiting to be released.”
He racked his brain for a solution. Even if the program couldn’t be aborted, the sprinkler pumps themselves must run off some kind of electricity, right? And without the pumps to push the contaminated water through the system…
He lifted the radio to his mouth. “This is Captain McBride. We need to cut power to the entire Capitol complex immediately!”
“Say again.”
“We have about five minutes before a few thousand Americans are hit with a guaranteed death sentence. Cut the power!”
The SWAT officer beside him got on his own radio. “This is Officer Jenkins down in grounds maintenance. I’m confirming this request.”
5:04
5:03
The old man’s voice from earlier came through now. “It’s not easy. The Capitol’s source of electricity is protected like none other in this country.”
“You’ve got to make it happen, sir.” Cole was rapidly entering one four-digit combination after another, but the screen wouldn’t unlock.
“There’s only one possible way.” The voice got quieter, like he was speaking to someone else in the room. “Get me our Pepco contact on the phone. Now.” Pepco, the Potomac Electric Power Company, sole supplier of electricity to the city of Washington since the 1920s.
4:37
4:36
4:35
“I’m going back up,” Cole said. He wasn’t going to hang around down in this dungeon, not with the twins still up there, unvaccinated and unprotected.
“We’ll go too,” Walker said, taking hold of Tyson’s lead.
The connection went bad as they sprinted up the spiral stairwell, but he could still make out a few words of the Architect’s conversation.
“—urgent national security implications. Only three minutes before—”
They were in the cave, now splashing back through the artificial creek and up through the open grating. Cole recognized the slow opening melody of Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture. Leaving the Summerhouse, they retraced their earlier run up the hill, even faster this time. He had to get back to them before it was too late.
“How much time do we have on the countdown?” Someone shouting over the radio.
Cole recognized the SWAT leader’s voice: “Just under a minute. Power’s still on.”
And they were back onto the terrace.
The two girls were right where they had left them.
“Leila!” he shouted. “Anna! Put your masks—”
The radio’s connection was back loud and clear. “Thank you. Yes, now. Right now!”
The night went black in perfect time with the Overture’s first cannon blast.
Completely black. The Capitol, the monuments, every building lining the National Mall. The whole city was dark.
But then, the second cannon blast. And with it, the sky exploded in a sea of color and light. So these were the fireworks everyone had made such a fuss about. Now he understood why.
Cole glanced to the side. Leila’s wide eyes reflected the flashing brilliance of the blazing night sky, and a beautifully genuine smile stretched across her face.
“We did it,” he murmured. “We really did it.”
He felt for her hand and gave it a quick squeeze before returning his own gaze to the spectacular celestial display.
The citywide loss of power at 10:00 p.m. on July 4th was a complete non-event, a mysterious blip in an otherwise busy news week that did not merit more than a passing mention by any media outlet. Most of the public simply assumed it was part of the show, a special effect coordinated ahead of time to make the fireworks even more magnificent than they already were.
This is how it needs to stay.
Members of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, your complete discretion in protecting this story from widespread release is required. There are those among us who may argue that a nation’s leaders should never hide the truth from its citizens, but this perspective only stems from a willful naivety about the way the world really works. The enemy achieves his goal when he succeeds in spreading fear and insecurity among our people.
We must not let that happen.
Some of you have requested an update on the virus’s spread in central Africa. As you know, the United States released several hundred thousand doses of smallpox vaccine to be used in a ring vaccination campaign around the Virunga volcanoes and North Kivu province. This strategy has proved effective, slowing and finally stopping natural transmission within the human population only last month.
And the mountain gorillas? It turns out the Iranians should have done more research on the ecology and behavior of these majestic primates before deciding to hinge their nuclear hopes on such a foolhardy plan. Even the most cursory reading of Dian Fossey or George Schaller would have led them to understand that gorilla families do not regularly engage in close physical interactions with other groups. The chimera virus killed off its mountain gorilla hosts too quickly, dying with the Rugendo family on the forested slopes of Mount Mikeno.
Of course, this famous silverback did not leave the world completely deprived of his dominant lineage. Little Endo made a full recovery and recently moved back with the other orphans to the Senkwekwe Center, where he will stay under the attentive care of Innocence Kambale, Dr. Antoine Musamba, and all the other dedicated rangers of Virunga National Park. Bonny the bloodhound also returned home with them. She was found baying lustily early one morning outside the Gorilla Doctors compound in Musanze, a full week after her disappearance.
Vincent Lukwiya is awaiting trial with other senior Lord’s Resistance Army commanders at the International Criminal Court in the Hague. He was allowed to keep his treasured watch, but it now sits on the artificial wrist of a prosthetic left arm.
His captors, Captain Jake Russell, Master Sergeant Mike Denison, and their canine partner, Rico, are back in the Central African Republic, still hunting Joseph Kony but preparing to rotate out when another team arrives from Fort Bragg.
Sohrab Torabi presumably remains in prison in Iran. Our sources have been unable to track down any information about his status since the arrest.
After five days in the BSL-4 intensive care unit at USAMRIID, Myriam Haddad and her mother entered the Federal Witness Protection Program.
And Dr. Lars Olsson continues his work with Doctors Without Borders, currently managing a relief hospital on the outskirts of Damascus, Syria.
We were lucky this time.
Or fortunate, or even blessed, depending on your understanding of our place in the universe.
But this threat, this great tragedy narrowly averted, was only one of many. We must remain vigilant, never assuming we can be fully prepared for every possibility, expecting success but planning for failure. We stand ready to enable and empower those noble Americans willing to raise their hands and confront whatever future dangers this great nation may face.
Again, Madam Chairman and Mr. Vice Chairman, thank you for holding this hearing. I welcome your questions.
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Don’t miss Cole McBride’s first adventure in
No Dog Left Behind
, a short story that takes place while he is deployed to Afghanistan several years before
The Chimera Sequence
.
Word-of-mouth credibility is crucial for any author to succeed. If you enjoyed the story, please consider leaving an honest review on Amazon (or any other site). Even if it’s only a line or two, it would make a big difference and would be very much appreciated.
Elliott Garber is a veterinarian and military officer currently assigned on active duty with a special operations command. He has lived in India, Egypt, Mozambique, and Italy and traveled to over 50 other countries around the world, including a recent deployment to Iraq. You can often find him under the water, up in the air, or out in the woods. Elliott lives with his wife and two young children in Coronado, California. This is his first novel.
Elliott Garber blogs and produces a podcast at:
http://www.elliottgarber.com/author
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This book had its earliest origin in wildlife photographer Brent Stirton’s iconic image of a dead silverback mountain gorilla on a makeshift litter carried by a sorrowful group of local Congolese men. If you haven’t seen the photo, go online and find it now. In the year between the event itself and
National Geographic
’s follow-up feature story, “Who Murdered the Virunga Gorillas?” by Mark Jenkins, I spent a full year away from the standard veterinary curriculum to study some of these same conflicts at the human-animal-environment interface while living and working in India and Mozambique. My first thanks are to these storytellers who inspired my own feeble attempt to continue shedding light on a part of the world that is too often ignored.
If it weren’t for my own parents’ ongoing subscription to this magazine and sacrificial support of their animal-loving son over many years, I would not even have been aware of the story, or more importantly, pursuing my lifelong dream of becoming a veterinarian. They taught me to read, write, and imagine the possibility of sharing my own stories with the world. Thank you, Dad and Mom.
I’m fortunate to call a number of scientists and veterinarians my friends, all of whom are much smarter and more accomplished than I am in the real work of making our world a better place. They were all kind enough to take time from their own commitments and busy schedules to read my manuscript and provide insights and suggestions to ensure its accuracy. Many thanks to Mike Cranfield and Fred Nizeyimana, both real Gorilla Doctors with many years of experience working to protect these incredible animals in their mountain homes of central Africa. Thanks also to my colleague Marlene Zähner, a Swiss veterinarian and lead for Virunga’s CongoHounds project. Aaron Harris is a physician and alumnus of the Epidemic Intelligence Service who continues his epidemiological investigations around the world with the CDC. Cyndie Courtney, Sarah Churgin, and Nick Marsh are all fellow writers and veterinarians. My friend and colleague Hayley is an active duty Veterinary Corps officer like me who is currently pursuing a PhD in epidemiology while studying monkeypox in the DRC. Sound familiar? And yet Cole’s character came into being long before Hayley and I even met!
The rest of my initial readers came from all walks of life and brought their own diverse expertise and tastes to bear on the story. Many thanks to Colin Basler, John Montague, Sean Tennant, Rachel Braddock Bayles, Drew Gideon, all my siblings, and parents-in-law.
Three literary agents took a special interest in this work and provided incredibly helpful feedback on the manuscript itself and the current state of the publishing industry. Thank you, John Talbot, Russell Galen, and Paul Lucas.
I owe particular gratitude for the support of James Rollins and Marty Becker, two other veterinarians who are already successful authors in their own very different ways. Maria Goodavage, Bob Mayer, and Richard Phillips are also authors who have been generous enough to share their names, encouraging words, and audiences with me.
I’ve had the privilege of serving alongside courageous Soldiers, Sailors, Marines, Airmen, and other operators, many of whom are handlers working with very accomplished canine partners. Thanks for everything you do to protect my family and my country.
Lena and Gil, I don’t think you’ll remember the occasional Saturday morning or hour-before-dinner that I was writing behind a closed door rather than playing with you. But I know your momma will.
Becca, thank you. You’ve pushed and encouraged me at every step, making this book possible alongside everything else in our life together. Home is wherever I’m with you.