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On the screens the glowing icons that represented the jets were streaking toward Bordentown. Other dots indicated the movement of General Zetter’s National Guard forces and the reinforcements that had been ordered in to help hold the quarantine line. With that line broken, the troops were being deployed in a wide circle around the Starbucks.
The president took a long drink of water, but it did nothing to soothe his dry, raw throat. He set the glass down with a clunk that seemed absurdly loud in a room that was unusually quiet.
“What are our options?” he asked of the people around the table. The people whose job it was to always have answers.
General Amistad Burroughs said, “The jets will—”
“No,” interrupted the president. “I want to know what we need to do afterward. After the bombs.”
Sylvia Ruddy shared a look with Scott Blair. She said, “You’ll have to address the nation again.”
“And say what?” asked the president. Ruddy flinched. “No, I want you to tell me, what can I possibly say that will help the country understand this.”
“Sir, I—”
The president picked up a sheet of paper and shook it at her, at everyone. Everyone had a copy of the same report in front of them. None of them had touched the report after first reading it. The papers lay on the table, unwanted, feared, despised.
“These are casualty estimates. In just under five minutes we are going to kill thousands of American citizens. Thousands more are already dead. And we don’t yet know if this is the end of it. So, tell me … what exactly is it I’m supposed to tell the nation?”
The dead faces stared at him and said nothing.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
STEBBINS LITTLE SCHOOL
STEBBINS, PENNSYLVANIA
The last of the military vehicles rumbled out of the parking lot, leaving behind a scene of disorder and desolation.
“Now what?” asked Trout.
Dez nibbled thoughtfully on her lip. “If they’re really gone…”
“What?” he prompted.
“I can think of only three reasons they’d leave,” she said, ticking them off on her fingers. “It’s over and they’ve been told to stand down.”
“Is that likely?”
“No. They left too fast and left too much shit behind. They were told to drop and run. Question is whether they’re running from or running to.”
“Huh?”
“That’s choice two and tree. So, the second option is that there’s another problem. Maybe they found a bunch more of these zombies. Or, more likely, there’s a problem at the quarantine line.”
“What’s the third option?”
She gave him a flat stare. “Getting out of the line of fire.”
For emphasis she pointed up to the ceiling. Trout followed her finger as if they could both see a jet loaded with fuel-air bombs screaming its way across the skies of Stebbins County.
“Well,” Trout said slowly, “shit.”
“Yeah.”
“But … the flash drives … they want those. They won’t blow us up if they think we have them.”
“Sure. Unless they found Dr. Volker, in which case when this is over you are going to be one inconvenient motherfucker, Billy. Same goes for me and anyone you may have talked to in here. Which is everyone.”
