EYES OF THE BEHOLDER
CHAPTER THREE: THE GRAND ILLUSION, part two
Begins with one's self:
That evening.
"Three years," Chris said, leaning back in his chair at the dinner table. "What a difference they've made. What a difference." He took another drink from the bottle of Bud Light on the table, set it back down, and let out a partly contented, partly distressed sigh. He glanced at his watch, and yawned.
"You're right about that," I said. "Time has changed us all. One minute we're fugitives from an international powerhouse, and the next minute we're national heroes...decent and respectable members of society."
"Well..." Chris began, with a little humor in his voice. "Decent and respectable? Just who do you think you're talking to, anyway?" I had to stifle a laugh.
"Shut up, dumbshit," I scorned. "You almost made me wake up your sister and Leon. How well do you think that would have gone over?"
"Good point," he said, pitching the empty bottle into a nearby trash can as he rose and stood in the doorway between the dining room and kitchen. "In both of your statements. Really makes me think."
"And that means what?" I asked.
"I'm thirty years old, Jill," Chris said. "After what we've been going through the past three or four years, I never thought I'd see the day. And here I am. My twenty-two year old baby sister has grown up, and gotten married to a great guy. I've got a nephew. And yet I'm just me. I haven't changed a bit. Seems that the world is just turning, and I'm still standing still. Why is that?" I walked up, and put a hand on Chris' shoulder.
"Chris, you're feeding yourself full of bullshit," I told him. "Look at you. For God's sake, when I first met you, you were nothing than an old flyboy who gave a damn for nobody but himself. Then, that day in the mansion, when you saved me, I finally saw the real you, Chris. You're a strong, caring individual who would give his own life just to save those he cares about. How can you say you haven't changed?"
Chris stood there silent.
"You know, we've been through a lot, Chris," I said, pushing past him and heading for the front door. "And we did it together. We survived. Please, never forget that."
"Jill...I..." Chris stuttered, running for the front door.
"What?" I asked, next to my car.
"Nothing. Good night." I waved back as s got into the red Ford and drove off, leaving Chris leaning on the front porch with a head full of confusing thoughts.
I stood out there for what seemed like forever.
"Chris, what are you doing out here?" I spun around, and saw Sherry, clinging tightly to herself in a terry cloth bathrobe, standing in the open doorway.
"Nothin', kiddo," I responded. "You better be getting to bed. It's almost one o-clock in the morning. Why are you up so late anyway?"
"Just talking to Seth on my Instant Messaging program," Sherry answered. "But you're right. It is late. So get out of the cold and get inside."
"I'll be there in a minute, Sherry," I said, pulling out a Marlboro package out of my coat pocket, and began fumbling for a lighter. Sherry simply shut the door, and turned up the stairs. I stood, leaning against the porch railing for a minute longer, and I stared at the cigarette package in my hand.
"Change always begins with one's self," I muttered as I flung the package into the gently falling snow.
Quick Glimpse into the Future:
9:00 AM, the next morning
Leon:
"He's still sleeping," I said as I silently stepped down the stairs into the hallway next to the living room, where Chris lay sprawled out on the couch in a v-neck undershirt and white boxer shorts.
"He was up late last night," Sherry said from inside the kitchen. "Later than I was."
"Sounds about like him," I replied. "Let's give him a little surprise, shall we?" I snuck out the front door, and out onto the snow-covered porch. I grabbed a fist full of snow, and formed it into a ball with his hands. I slowly shut the door, and walked over to where Chris was sleeping on the couch.
"Leon, don't!!" Sherry giggled. "He might get you back..."
"Let him try," I laughed. "Hey, Chris..." Chris just turned and mumbled in his sleep.
"One more chance, pal," I stated.
"Fuck off," Chris groaned.
"I'll take that as a yes," I laughed, smashing the snowball right into Chris' face. He jumped up with a yelp, wiping his face.
"Damn it, what is wrong with you people?" he shouted. Sherry and I exchanged a high-five as we nearly fell in the floor laughing. "Can't a guy get any sleep around here?!"
"Well, that's a stupid question," Sherry burst. "Of course not!"
"Yeah, reeeaaaaaal mature, guys," Chris spat, still wiping melted snow off his face. "Really fucking mature."
"Now, come on, it was just a joke," I answered. "Now keep it down. Claire and the baby are still trying to sleep. I don't know about you two, but I'd like to live to see my twenty-sixth birthday. Now come on, 'old man,' I need some help out in the garage."
"Who you callin' old?" Chris shot back, pulling on a pair of black sweatpants with the S.T.A.R.S. logo on the left leg. "I tell ya, kids these days!" This brought out another dose of riotous laughter. Chris grabbed his leather jacket, slipped it on, and followed me to the door. Sherry didn't seem to notice, but Chris' right hand was slightly trembling.
"Ladies first," I laughed. Chris' face grew stern as he flipped me the bird. However, Leon would be the first to notice the jittery Chris.
"What's with the shakes, man?" I asked, a hint of concern in his voice.
"Don't ask," Chris replied, stepping out the door and out onto the porch. "I'll explain everything later." I just shook my shoulders, and the two men stepped down the porch into the open garage. I walked over and pulled a tarp off of a car. Chris couldn't believe his eyes. He saw a 1967 fire-engine red Chevrolet Chevelle Super Sport. Glossy paint, chrome rally wheels and trim...it was one of the most beautiful sights Chris had ever come across.
"Where the hell did you get this, Leon?" he asked.
"It's a little project of mine," I replied. "Found the body all rusted and banged up at a salvage yard for fifty bucks. I decided for the first time in my life, I was going to try to rebuild something. Take a look at these pictures." Chris scanned the pictures of a burnt-out, rusted, beat-up wreck. Then he looked at the marvel before him.
"I'm surprised Claire hasn't tried to kill you yet," Chris replied, scanning over the car. "It must have cost a fortune to build this thing."
"It did," I answered. "And she did, too. I tell you, I was sleeping out here for a week." I then opened the door, and Chris looked inside. It had been fitted with original gauges, and the black leather seats had been beautifully restored. It had a four-speed floor shift transmission, with a cue-ball shifter.
"Damn, man," Chris gasped. "She's sweet looking. How does she sound?"
"That's the problem," I said, climbing in. I put a key into the ignition, and turned it. The engine roared to life, but as soon as I lifted my foot from the throttle, the car began to shake as the engine started missing.
"Any idea?" I asked.
"Carburetor," Chris said, after listening to it for a minute. "Not enough air to the mix. Cut the engine, and pop the hood. For God's sake, Leon, you'd think after friggin' rebuilding this thing you'd be able to solve a simple problem like this." I did as Chris instructed. Chris lifted the hood, unscrewed the chrome air filter, and saw a four-barrel Edelbrock carburetor.
"I need a small screwdriver," he said, slipping off his jacket. "Then I want you to start the car back up." I reached into a toolbox, and handed Chris a screwdriver. I then reached into the car, and fired the engine back up. Chris made a few adjustments to two small screws on the sides of the carburetor, and soon, the engine leveled out as he reattached the air filter. The sound was amazingly beautiful to Chris.
"402 V8, right?" he asked, closing the hood.
"With a 400 four-speed racing transmission," I answered. "I can't believe that it was that simple. Thanks, man."
"Leon!" He heard a loud voice from the porch. It was Claire. "Ark's on the phone! He says it's urgent!"
"Probably lost the key to the drunk tank again," I said, turning off the car. "I'll be right back." Chris closed the car door, and followed me back into the living room, where Claire stood with the cordless phone in hand. I gave a lopsided grin as I took it.
"Yeah," answered. "What?! Holy shit. Holy fucking SHIT! OK, I'm on my way. No, no, get Demo 1 and Recon Tango A prepped. I want them loaded up in 15. Have my gear out and waiting for me. Go with Intercept plan 1047-C. They're on I-90. Get both chopper teams up in the air, too. OK, I'm on my way." He hung up the phone, grabbed his jacket, and bolted for the door.
"Leon, what's wrong?" Claire asked, worriedly. I turned in his tracks, and planted a quick kiss on her lips.
"It's complicated," I answered. "Put it on the news." I then rushed into the garage. The small party heard the roaring of the Dodge Ram coming to life, and saw it bolt out the driveway.
Claire:
I immediately closed the door, and the three of us stood in front of the TV as I turned it onto the local news channel.
"...stolen chemical tanker has been spotted last traveling northwest. Oh, wait a sec! This just in! Our investigation team has just reported that the Chicago Area Special Response Unit based out of Valin Heights, under the command of Captain Leon Scott Kennedy, is being deployed to intercept the tanker, which is believed to be carrying a strain of a dangerous bio-chemical agent. The V.H.P.D. or the Metro P.D. is not commenting on this matter...for further news on this matter please stay tuned..."
"Oh my God," I gasped. "This isn't good." Chris put a comforting arm around my shoulder.
"It'll be fine. Leon's a big boy. He'll make it just fine," he soothed. But somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, he wondered if he himself could believe it.
Leon:
"OK, Recon Tango A and Demo 1 up in 5!" a tall black man in black Kevlar body armor shouted, holstering a high-powered K3G4 Assault Rifle over his shoulder. "The Cap's going to be in here soon, so no slacking, people! This is the real deal here!!" He turned around to see me rush through the door to the locker room.
"Bruce, what's going on here?" I asked as I slipped into a black Body Glove and began to strap on pieces of Kevlar.
"A 55-07. Seems some crack-nut Arabs have hijacked a truck carrying a powerful biological weapon," Bruce Mason, the squad leader of Demolitions Squad 1, answered.
"What's the weapon?" I asked, finishing the application of the armor.
"Flash from the past, boss," Bruce answered, tossing me another K3G4. "It's the goddamn T-Virus, Leon."
"Fuck," I answered. "OK, are my copter teams up?"
"Yes sir!" Ark shouted. "They're in direct pursuit, ready to fire if needed." I grabbed a helmet, and called the men around.
"OK, guys," I began. "This is what all of this training and drilling was for. A terrorist group has hijacked a cleanup tanker of a very powerful biological weapon. Our helicopter squad is in tight pursuit, but we can't take a chance of the tanker coming under fire. Bruce, order your men to set up a blockade of a 10 mile length, behind and in front. We'll be dropped by heli-transport over the blockade, where we'll overtake the tanker. Very basic, but still very dangerous. No time for questions. Let's move."
Back at home:
"..We've just received confirmation of the deployment of the Chicago Area S.R.U. Blockades have been set up to contain the renegade tanker, and a team of operatives are on standby..."
On the Crime Scene:
"Blockades up, Captain!" I heard over the radio. I signaled to the other five members of Recon Tango A to move forward, where out of the distance, I saw the tanker barrel towards the line.
"He's not going to want to stop, fellas," I stated. "Just be careful that we don't damage that tank. The chemical inside will kill us all. Gas masks are a must!" The tanker came closer. "OK," he started. "Shoot for the tires. Aim true, men." They began opening fire.
Chris, Once again, back at home:
"..the S.R.U. operatives have opened fire on the tanker! Repeat, S.R.U. has opened fire!" Claire heard rumble over the television. "But the tanker is still coming!!" She tried to choke back tears, but found she wasn't able to.
"Shhh..." I sighed. "He'll be OK."
Leon, at the scene:
"God damn it!" one of the men shouted. "The thing's still coming at us! For God's sake, what do we do?"
"Clear the blockade!" I shouted. "Hurry!" The officers did as ordered, and I jumped into a Jeep.
"Kennedy, what the hell are you doing?!" Bruce shouted. I ignored him.
It fired up, and the tanker drew closer. I pulled over to the side of the road, as the tanker on six flat tires roared by. I followed in hot pursuit. I was determined to stop the damn truck...even if it meant losing my life.
Chris:
"...We've got footage of one of the S.R.U. officers...wait a minute, our men on the scene have confirmed that the lone officer in pursuit of the tanker is Captain Leon S. Kennedy, the man in command of the Chicago S.R.U. He seems to be attempting to run the tanker down..."
This was too much for Claire to handle. She collapsed on the floor, violently sobbing. I knelt down and embraced her tightly, too frightened to stand. Sherry stood as tall and rigid as a stone, however, as she watched the lone Jeep Wrangler chase the semi.
"I know you can do it..." she whispered.
Leon:
I flung off the gas mask as I swerved right, and closer to the tanker. I saw that there were two Arabic men, and the driver was in between them, bound and gagged. I pulled away from the truck, and then swerved back in. The passenger handed the driver an automatic pistol, and he began firing at the Jeep.
"Dammit," I breathed. I swerved in closer to the truck, and then, in a short stint of adrenaline and bravery, I leapt from the Jeep and landed on the running boards on the gas tank of the truck. I pulled out a weapon that had seen me through rough times before...a .50 caliber action express Desert Eagle magnum.
"Here goes nothing," I breathed as I reached for the door handle, and I saw the Jeep ram through a billboard post and explode into a ball of flames.
Chris:
"...the Jeep has been just destroyed...oh my God! Captain Kennedy is on board the truck, hanging off the steps! This isn't looking good, ladies and gentlemen..." Claire looked up, and through teary eyes she saw footage of Leon hanging on to a rail next to the door, holding a gun in hand. In her heart, she felt as she had already lost her husband. I could do nothing but hold her.
Leon:
I heard muddled Arabic as I clung for dear life on the unstable truck. The driver was attempting to shake me off as he swerved from left to right. However, I found the inner strength to pull myself up, and I slammed a gloved fist through the driver's side glass and connected with the driver's temple. The passenger reached for the pistol, but was met with a shot in the neck with the magnum, nearly decapitating him. I fired again, this time in the chest of the nearly unconscious terrorist driver.
"Open the door!!" I shouted to the gagged driver. The young Hispanic man looked at me for a minute, causing me to shout again. This time, he used his elbow to open the huge door. I holstered his gun, and threw the dead driver out onto the highway. I then swung into the driver's seat, and stomped the brake of the truck. The truck began to slide and it nearly tipped over. I simply kept my foot on the brake, and kept a steely resonance as I sat in the truck, and never once the thought did the thought cross my mind that I could die.
Chris:
"...Oh! Ladies and gentlemen, it is a true miracle! Captain Kennedy has superhumanly stopped the tanker. Oh, of all the years that I've been in this business, I've never witnessed something like this!" Claire looked up once again, to see the tanker sideways in the middle of the road, and a dizzy Leon stumbled out, walked behind the truck, and from what Claire knew of her husband, he vomited. I simply stood her up, and she hugged me tightly.
"I told ya, sis," I said. "I told ya he'd make it fine.
Leon:
"Mission accomplished, Demo 1 leader," I gasped into the two-way radio, spitting bile from my throat. "Send in recovery. Close the highway." I then fell to the ground, sat up, and leaned against the front wheel of the tanker truck. I saw an ambulance pull up, and I leaned back and closed my eyes.
"Captain!" I heard someone shout. "Are you all right?" I opened my eyes, and saw a young paramedic standing over me.
"I'm OK, pal," I said. "Just a little thirsty." The paramedic signaled over to someone over in the ambulance, and a bottle of water was flung threw the air.
"Here you go, Cap," he said. "Man, that was incredible. It looked like something from the movies." Then he walked off, leaving me resting against the flattened tire of a tanker truck carrying the most deadly biohazard ever known to mankind.
A few hours later...
"What I want to know is how the fuck did these nut jobs get a tanker full of T-Virus extract?" I shouted to the other two captains in the office. I paced back and forth behind his large desk, as Bruce and the captain of Demo 1, Matthew Pierce, sat in front.
"Well, Leon, the truck came out of a cleanup site," Matthew, a slightly small, lean blonde headed man said. "Came out of a chemical plant in Paducah, Kentucky. Headed for a dump site in Detroit. Somehow, these two Arabs got it at a truck stop or something. The driver says they were making a beeline for Ontario."
"Ontario..." I whispered, looking out a window at the darkened night sky. Bruce pulled a paper out of a manila folder, and looked at it.
"I'm not so sure they were terrorists, guys," he warned. "They could have been working for something...or someone... bigger."
"What do you mean?" I asked, my attention clearly drawn.
"We found this folder in the truck," he said, tossing it to me. "Papers from an S. O'Donovan. Shows fueling times, loading times, etcetera, etcetera. But it also shows a drop-off point."
"Where?" I said, rummaging through the papers.
"Right here," Bruce said, handing me that one sheet.
" TO: ABDUL HASID OMAR, RAID SF UNIT DELTA
CC: MUHAMMAD SAHIB, RAID SF UNIT DELTA: VICENTE GOMEZ, SMS
UNIT A6 ONTARIO
SUB: T-BASE SHIPMENT
ABDUL:
THE SHIPMENT IS BEING PROCURED AT THE PADUCAH CLEANUP AS
SPECIFIED IN THE FILE. THIS OPERATION IS BEING MADE TO LOOK
NOT AS IT IS. YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN, HOPEFULLY. BE CAREFUL
IN THE AREA WE SPOKE OF EARLIER. THOSE THERE ARE BOUND
TO START TROUBLE. SO TACTICAL 7784-A IS IN PROCESS. DO NOT
FAIL. DO NOT DISAPPOINT ME. DROP OFF IN U-NEO FACILITY ONTARIO AS WE DISCUSSED. THE PRESIDENT IS LOOKING
FORWARD TO YOUR ARRIVAL.
O'DONOVAN"
"Oh no..." I gasped. "No, please, for the love of God, no!" I threw the file down on the desk, plopped down in the chair, and buried my head in my hands.
"Kennedy, what's wrong?" Matthew asked. "What's going on?"
"Get Thompson in here now," I said in a near whisper. "Tell him that it's important." Matthew stood up, nodded, and left the room.
"Leon, this may be nothing at all," Bruce warned. "This stationary could be years old...we aren't even sure on the identities of the men yet. Don't overreact."
"Is that Mexican driver still in Interrogation?" I asked.
"Yep," Bruce replied. "Why?"
"I want a full check on him...name, ID, birthplace, hell, I want to know what the bastard had for dinner on January 9, 1977. Thorough...be very thorough," I answered. Bruce turned from the room as Ark Thompson entered.
"What is it, man?" he asked, standing in a corner. "I'm tired, my shift's about over, and I'm ready to go home."
"Read this," I said, standing up and handing Ark the memo. Ark read through it, his face contorting in sheer terror.
"Aw, shit, man," he gasped. "Aw, fuck."
"My sentiments exactly," I said, sitting back down. "What do we do?"
"First off, we hide this," Ark said seriously. "We'll do a little undercover work on our own. Try to find out if this is real and where it originated from. Then, depending on the circumstances, we might or might not reveal it."
"What good will that do?" I asked. "We just need to reveal it now."
"It'd get lost in the bowels of bureaucracy, and we'd never hear from it again," Ark said. "Plus, NEO might have people in the inside already."
"Good thinking," I said. "And there's one person that I know that can help us out..."
"Barry." Ark's voice was full of finality.
"As much as I'd thought I would never say it," I laughed. "But you're right. Barry's the man for the job."
"You're right," Ark replied. "I'd never believe we'd say Barry was the man for any job. Well, see you tomorrow, man. I'm going home. Tell Claire and Sherry I said hi."
"What about Chris?" I asked quizzically.
"What?!" Ark flipped. "You mean..."
"Yep," I answered.
"I think I'm going to come over for a while tonight, pal."
A new Revelation:
Even in the confines of my bedroom, I could still hear Chris and Ark. I had come up here about an hour ago, and well, after the events of that morning, I had every reason to be tired. I rolled over and looked at the clock. The red LCD display flashed 11:30. And still, I could hear them. Every once in a while, I could hear Sherry's laughter break in.
"Damn," I growled, and rolled back over. I heard the door creak open, and soft footsteps tread across the floor.
"Hey," it was Claire. "You still awake?"
"One question you can never say 'no' to," I mumbled as I rolled over again to face her. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she said, kneeling down beside me, resting her arms on the bed. "You just seemed really distant tonight."
"I'm just tired," I replied. "Busy day."
"No kidding," she laughed. "You had us all scared."
"You think you were," I said, throwing the comforter off and sitting up.
"I know we were," she said, a hint of anger in her voice. "I've never see you do something like that. What came over you?" Those words brought back the memory of what that tanker was carrying...and the memo found in the cab. I stood up, walked over to our dresser, and pulled the folder out of my sock drawer. Claire stood up and followed me; I handed her the memo. As she read it, fear seemed to creep over her composure.
"Jesus Christ," she muttered, almost crying. "What the hell does this mean?"
"That tanker was carrying a strain of the T-Virus. It was a base, and it was highly dangerous," I solemnly replied. "That's why I went to such extreme measures to take down that tanker."
"What's going to happen?" she asked. "Surely we can turn this against them."
"I'm not sure," I answered. "We're not sure of the authenticity. And we don't even know who O'Donovan is. So, for right now, there's not a whole lot we can do." She suddenly burst into tears, and I tightly embraced her. For a moment that felt like an eternity, I felt her tears run down my shoulder. Then, we were in for a big surprise.
"Hola!" we heard from a loud, tenor, Latino voice from the living room.
"No way," Claire said, wiping her eyes as she smiled.
"That's what I'm thinking," I replied. "Why don't we take a look?"
The Uninvited Guest:
"Look who woke up all of a sudden!" Chris laughed. I shook my head as I walked down the stairs. "Here comes Superman!" he roared.
"Bite me, Joe Camel," I snidely replied. "Or would that be the Marlboro Man?" Chris laughed again.
"Man, I haven't had a smoke in eighteen hours," he laughed, his hand slightly trembling as it had this morning. "And it's killing me."
"Probably no faster than the cigs were doing you," Ark said, leaning back in a recliner.
"Ain't that the truth," Chris replied.
"So what? No one pays attention to me?" I turned to my left, and there stood a tall, skinny South American in blue jeans, a heavy blue parka, and a Santa hat carrying a box.
"Where the hell did you come from?" I asked the grinning Carlos Olivera.
"Flew in this morning," he said. "Just in time to see you kick terrorist's ass, mi amigo!"
"So what are you doing around Chicago?" Claire asked.
"Had to fly in load of car parts from New Mexico," he said. "I fly for transfer service now."
"No shit," Chris said. "You got a pilot's license now?"
"Uh-huh," he said energetically. "Fly all around U.S. now. My kind of life."
"So you gave up on sunshine and senoritas, huh?" I laughed.
"Not yet," he answered. "Never give that up, you know." That brought another fresh round of laughter.
"Have a seat, take a load off," Sherry said.
"Well, since you offered," he replied. "I guess I can't turn down that offer!"
BRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGG!
"Perfect," Chris groaned.
"I'll get it," Sherry stated, jumping up. "Probably for me anyways."
"Oh, I don't know," I butted in. I had found the perfect time to absolutely embarrass her. "Could it be, oh, let's say, Keith again?" Everyone erupted in laughter yet again. "He's been calling quite frequently lately." Sherry's face turned red, and she stormed off.
"She popular with the boys, huh?" Carlos asked, now out of the parka and in a blue sweater, still with the stupid hat on.
"Oh yeah," Claire answered. "But she just blows it all off. She thinks it's funny."
"I know," I stated, sitting next to my wife. "It's just all one big joke."
"She'll come around," Chris said. "Heck, you never went regular with a guy until you're senior year in high school, Claire. Give her some time."
"I know, I know," she replied. "But everything...it's just taken such a toll on her. I can't see how she'll ever live a normal life. She pulls away from almost everyone. She has a lot of friends, but..." Claire was interrupted by a elated shriek. Sherry flew back into the living room and stood in front of the group.
"You'll never believe who that was..." she began.
"How'd she take it?" she asked, hovering over my shoulder as I hung up the phone outside the snow-covered parking lot of the truck stop at the Illinois-Iowa border.
"She's ecstatic," I replied, a smile on my face. "And I'm ecstatic about getting out of this cold. Come on, let's get the hell out of here."
"Whoa, hold on a minute," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "You mean to tell me we spend three years in Michigan before you tell me that you don't like cold weather?" I couldn't help but laugh. Rebecca Chambers definitely didn't look intimidating, as hard as she may try.
"Yep," I answered, heading back for the Camaro. "What are you going to do about it?" She began to laugh, and she shook her head.
"Seth Hartford, sometimes I wonder why I even bother with you," she mockingly scorned.
"Sometimes, I wonder too," I responded.
"Smart ass," she mused.
"Thank you very much," I answered. "I'm proud someone's finally recognizes my work."
"Just get back in the car," she said. "Come on, we've got some traveling to do."
"You can't be serious," Claire gasped as Sherry broke the news. "You're kidding."
"Nope," Sherry gleefully stated. "They're at the state line now. They expect to be here by 1 AM." Everyone suddenly got excited. However...I knew what could happen. U-NEO knew where we were. And with most all of us together...
"I don't like the idea," I flatly said. Everyone stopped to look at me. I stood, watching the snow fall outside the door.
"Why not?" Chris said. "It'll be like a big family reunion. I'm fine with it."
"Yeah," Jill added. "What's wrong Leon?" I turned around, and headed up the stairs to my bedroom. I walked in, picked up the folder from the nightstand, and returned. Everyone was still watching me when I came back down, and I threw the folder on the coffee table.
"There's what's wrong with me," I replied. Ark held his head in his hands.
"Leon, I thought we made a decision on this, man," he said.
"Well, now the circumstances have changed," I replied. Nobody had touched the folder. "Go ahead. Read it." Chris picked up the folder, and began fishing through the procedure reports that had accompanied the memo. Everyone else looked over his shoulder as he read them, a quizzical look crossing his face.
"Leon, what the hell is this?!" he almost blasted. "What the hell!"
"That truck we stopped today..." I began. "It wasn't a hijacking. It was only made to look like one. However, someone at a cleanup site in Paducah, Kentucky didn't know about it, and said that the truck was stolen."
"What was it carrying?" Jill asked.
"The T-Base Virus," I answered. "The T-Virus we had encountered before had been a slightly diluted version, in order to keep cells from being eradicated immediately. The T-Base is pure virus: any contact would be lethal upon first contact. No rotting...no zombies...basically it would eat your insides out within seconds."
"And they were carrying this by truck?!" Chris exploded. "How god-damned stupid are these bastards?"
"My thought exactly," Carlos softly said. "Why this? Why now?"
"I don't know," I answered. "But I know something...we have to take care of this."
"And just what can we do?" Jill asked. "None of us are really in position to be able to pin this on Umbrella."
"One of us is," I answered.
"And who would that be?" Jill shot back.
"Barry," I answered.
"My God, you're a genius," Chris said. "That's actually a good idea."
"What about Barry?" Carlos asked. "He just stupid redneck. What good will he do?"
"That stupid redneck, Carlos, just happens to be the Midwestern Director of Agent Operations for S.T.A.R.S.," Chris answered. "And he's got some awesome hackers working for him. There's no telling what he could do."
"Wow," Carlos answered. "Stupid redneck with really important job. Who knew?" Somehow, that elicited laughter from all.
"This is serious, guys," I said, standing in front of the crowd. "And when Seth gets here, we're going to have to figure out a plan."
Ontario, Canada:
"You were right, sir. The truck was overtaken by our little friend Kennedy."
"As I knew. Sahib and Omar are dead, right? What about Gomez?"
"He's in custody. They're interrogating the heck out of him."
"I want him dead."
"How?"
"I don't care. In fact...I want them all dead. Kennedy...Redfield...all of them."
"I can get a squad down there."
"Then do it...now."
Wow. Something's about to hit the fan. Who's O'Donovan? Why was he attempting to acquire the T-Base Virus? And what will happen to our heroes? These questions and more answered in the next installment!
p.s.: Sorry for the long wait! I'm trying to juggle my five different writing projects, two jobs, choir, band, speech, and a relationship right now, so I hope you can forgive me! I hope to have more posted soon!