Valerie wanted answers. She cuffed the pants Hyka had provided, put her shoes on, and looked in the mirror to adjust her tank top, careful to maintain her modesty despite the lack of undergarments. She walked down the hall to Jack’s room. The door was open, but the space was empty except for his ruck next to the bed. His room was smaller than hers and did not have a bathroom. A picture hung on the wall. Men in combat uniforms sat on a concrete barrier. She recognized many of the faces from those gathered at the toast Max had given earlier. Her father had no expression on his face, which made her smile. He never smiled for photos for as long as she could remember. Not even family ones.
“This picture was taken at the training site in Louisiana. You might have been eleven or twelve years old. Thick as thieves, we were,” Jack said from the door. He gave a motion with his head to follow him down the stairs toward the sound of voices and the smell of food.
In the kitchen, a buffet-style dinner was laid out on an island table. Seven people walked around filling their plates. They joked with each other like a big, loud family. These were her father’s friends with bonds stronger than blood. She looked at their faces and tried to imagine her father fighting alongside them. They must have felt a duty to help her. This offered a little more comfort and solidarity toward them, but she was still a bit apprehensive. She fell in line with Jack to fill a plate of food.
“Jack McGuire, if I didn’t know you to be a dirty old man, I might give you the time of day. Nice hair, pony boy,” Hyka said from across the island, a slight smirk being the only indication of her joke.
The room erupted in laughter. Only Valerie and the man standing to the right of Hyka did not join in. Instead, the man shot a disapproving look at Jack. He must have been Hyka’s father. Valerie blushed and gathered her plate and utensils. Barbecue ribs, mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables, dinner rolls. When her plate was full, she found an open seat near a pitcher of water. Her body craved the nutrition, depleted by her travels, but the knot in her stomach had returned.
“Are you doing okay?” Jack asked, leaning close so she did not have to raise her voice.
“No. Did you watch the news? They are turning the collection process into a manhunt.”
“Yeah, we watched that piece. Eat. Enjoy a distraction. We leave tomorrow night. You need to rest and get your strength up, and we still need more time to figure things out.”
“I powered my entire room with my hands,” Valerie said, too loud; she meant the comment for only Jack. She immediately regretted not keeping the incident a secret. Max looked up at her, then back at his food. She looked down at hers, a good excuse to stop talking. He had heard every word.
She filled an empty glass with water and listened to the conversations around her. The table was loud, with moods light and joyful. The men shouted remember-when stories over the course of the meal. Some included her father: the legendary Mike Burton and how he commanded his troops with an iron fist and a cold heart. They told stories of the man she remembered. Duke described a story of when he had occupied a mansion in Ramadi, Iraq, during the first elections after coalition forces liberated the country from Saddam’s reign. Her father had led one hundred and fifty infantry soldiers. First Sergeant Burton made his men collect the rubble from the demolished side of the building and organize the debris into what he called a rock garden. Even though they thought the task was ridiculous, the troops followed the order. Two weeks later, a rocket was shot into the compound, ricocheted off her father’s rock garden and exploded a safe distance away, leaving the building and occupants unharmed. They never questioned the rock garden again.
Valerie could laugh at the story. She missed him. Judging from their interactions, everyone else did, too. Hearing about her father lifted her spirits. She became less skeptical of the group as a whole, and her appetite returned. She kept a careful eye on Max. He was the exception to her newfound comfort.
After they had eaten their fill and cleared the table of food, Max passed beers to those in attendance. Valerie declined the alcohol in favor of water. The transition from dinner to the meeting was marked and formal.
“Let’s get down to business. I am Maximus Jonah Davis, airborne, air assault, the best damn cook this side of the Rockies, and your host.” As Max took his seat, the man to his right stood.
“Edward Griffin. I go by Griff. An agent with Homeland Security.”
“Jack McGuire, master gunner.”
It was Valerie’s turn. She was unsure of her title but followed suit the best she could.
“Valerie Russell, Sergeant Major Burton’s daughter.”
“And DiaZem,” Max added as she sat down. His eyes followed her. No one else seemed to notice, but his gaze was invasive. She wanted to cover herself every time he looked in her direction.
“Austin Major, armorer, logistics, combatives master, tactics master, and master of anything else you can contribute to killing someone.”
“Hyka Major, medic and combatives master.”
“Eric Earl. I also go by Duke. Battle staff and logistics.”
Valerie leaned to Jack and whispered, “There were eight shot glasses earlier when we were toasting. Where is the eighth person?”
“Mike. The eighth shot stayed on the bar. The glass was for your dad.”
She was sorry she had asked. Valerie knew from attending formal military affairs with Scott that the gesture was reminiscent of a ceremony reserved for fallen comrades called “The Missing Man Table.” Though this was not a formal military function, the tradition showed reverence to those unable to join them. In these circumstances, she did not know if her father was safe, or even still alive. The realization pulled at her heart and added a stronger awareness to her situation.
“Now we are all acquainted,” Max started, “I’m going to give an overview of intelligence and then I’ll pass the mic to the Duke of Earl to go over tomorrow’s activities and suggested packing list for the mission. After him, Major will map out the route and resupply points. Right now, the party stands as Mrs. Russell, Big Daddy Jack-Mac, Griff, Major, and Hyka. Now, Duke, if you please. My beer is missing me.” Max sat himself down and placed his unlit cigar back in his mouth.
Duke stood to address the group. He was not tall at all, just taller than Valerie, and stocky, but not fat. He was not as intimidating as he attempted to be with his posture. He seemed to do nothing but glare, even when he spoke to the group.
“All right, this is an extraction mission. I’m passing each of you a packing list consisting of what you’ll need for at least two days and a few items necessary for the group. Those items are not negotiable. Hyka, you’ll have to pack Mrs. Russell’s ruck. She will be busy with Max tomorrow.”
Valerie wrung her hands together at the thought of being alone with him. She looked at Jack for answers, but he did not seem alarmed by the announcement. She also hated the use of the word extraction. She considered the possibility of finding an escape from the group once they located her son.
Duke continued, “There are a couple of opportunities for resupply, but only one is guaranteed. Food will need to be rationed. Water is accessible, and each of you has a filtration device, so hydration shouldn’t be an issue. Hyka is carrying the medical supplies, but iodine pills will be split amongst the group for water purification if needed.”
“Question,” Griff interrupted, looking over the packing list. “Why is everyone carrying a headlamp if I’m the only person who can use one?”
“Great question,” Duke said, thick with sarcasm. “We are hoping when the time comes, Mrs. Russell will have figured something out.”
They all turned and looked at her. She narrowed her eyes at Duke, who had done nothing but give her orders from the moment he stood up. Her frustrated focus shifted to Max, resentment evident on her face. Valerie had no idea how she was going to fill such a tall order of giving power back to everyone. The two men were giving the group a false sense of her ability. She did not put much stock in herself where her capabilities were concerned.
“The next variable is going to be if Mr. Russell comes back with us. We will have to jump that hurdle once we get on site, but keep in mind an additional member to the party is a possibility.”
“If my husband is there, why would we leave? Why wouldn’t I stay home with my family?” Valerie was not a soldier. There were no orders she had to follow. She was reaching a boiling point of Duke telling her what she was going to do.
“Miss Lady,” Max began, “tomorrow we have a video conference scheduled with a CDC geneticist: someone with a long history in the matters of conductors and DiaZem and my main source of information, which is obviously more than you have in regards your condition. He’s been in contact with a DiaZem at the Denver facility and has insisted on talking with you. Our primary goal is to keep you safe. If your safety involves relocating you and your family, so be it. So, the answer is: No, you do not have to return, and you do not have to accept our help, but I encourage you to weigh your options and the consequences if you don’t.” He took a casual drink of his beer.
“I am hiding from the CDC but have a conference with them tomorrow?” Valerie looked around the room, but no one seemed to see where the issue lay. No one looked concerned with the glaring conflict of interest. “If they know where I am, why don’t they just come and get me?”
Max took a moment to light his cigar before answering, “I have promised Burton to keep you and your son safe. I have every intention to do so. But you are a liability, Mrs. Russell. You don’t know what you are capable of. Besides, your father set up this meeting.”
Breaths were held and looks were exchanged. This was news to the group. Valerie did not believe him. She was certain Max would say anything to get her to comply. There was something just under the surface of his hospitality: a hidden plan having to do with her being a DiaZem. She chewed her lip and decided not to ask any more questions during the briefing. She would pull Jack aside later.
Duke continued, “We have allotted four days there and four back. Your biggest obstacle, aside from not getting caught by the CDC, is the fluctuating elevation. We are at six thousand one hundred and thirty-five feet. Your first day of travel will be a constant uphill walk for seventeen miles. The journey is worse coming back. I’m not going to sugarcoat anything. Walking is going to suck, bad.
“I didn’t have time to print timelines so write this down: Beginning tomorrow morning, from 0600 to 0730, there will be mandatory physical training. We’ll be doing stretches. Hyka will need to know of any limitations or previous injuries which might cause you any issues on your trip. From 0730 to 0900 is personal hygiene and breakfast. Then from 0900 to 1500 we go over battle drills, including Mrs. Russell. Some of us need to brush up on a few skills, too. Mrs. Russell, your video conference will be in Max’s study at 1400.”
Valerie clinched her jaw, nodded and wrote down the time.
“At 1500, meals will be served and rations distributed. Prepackaged field rations will be the most practical. Max has spoiled us since we arrived, so a week of MREs isn’t bad. From 1600 to 2100 is personal time. I encourage resting, double checking your supplies and packing list, bathing. You get the point, personal time. You step off at 2100 hours. Major, you’re up.”
Duke took his seat. Hyka’s father walked to the head of the table with stiff arms held away from his body like they were too large to keep by his side. His hair was dark gray, cut into a high fade. He flipped a board revealing a large map, pulled a laser pointer out of his pocket and tested the device on the board with no results. Frustrated, he threw the small penlight into a trash can.
“All right.” He spoke with a thick Southern accent as he walked back to the other end of the table. “As Duke said, this mission is broken up into four days there and four back. At 2100, we leave from here and head north by way of Voyager Parkway. The route will be less watched, and less utilized by the CDC. From there we go east until we reach the railroad. The tracks are clear of the Air Force Academy, makes for safer cover and a pretty direct route. We continue the uphill walk all the way to Spruce Meadows Open Space. My in-laws have an RV parked out there, which should do us some good for getting some sleep during the day. Day one is a little under twenty miles. This location is also a food and ammo cache. We shouldn’t need to resupply so early in our trip, but this location is the only option we have. Also, this is the only substantial resupply on our route. A contingency plan is to send Griff to purchase supplies if needed. He’s the only one who should interact with anyone outside of our squad.
“Day two is uphill still, but I’d like to push to Lone Tree, even though we’ll be clocking thirty miles in one day. I want to start day three at the bottom of E-470. If we stay away from downtown Denver and the general population, we can finish up the two days on E-470 with no problems. Three extra miles versus the trouble of going through downtown are manageable.
“Hotels are out of the question. We hold the risk of being turned in or trapped with limited escape routes, so those last two nights will be spent sleeping on the road. Weather is optimal, but the temperature will drop down at night. Even so, you should not require more than a thin sleeping bag. Max can touch on the threat of the general population.” Major took his seat beside his daughter.
Max rose.
“The CDC has created propaganda to strike fear into the hearts of our fellow man in a feeble attempt to continue to gather conductors and any remaining DiaZem. They estimate a quarter of the world’s population, two billion people, carry the conductive gene. This group is what they are considering conductors of electricity. Ten thousand in the world hold the DiaZem gene, which is a sort of royal lineage of conductors. The CDC wants to recover as many of both as possible. If DiaZem remain at large, the CDC cannot move on to part two of their mission. Don’t even ask me what part two is. They have yet to reveal anything else to even the most senior of command. The President doesn’t even know what part two of the mission is. As long as we can keep a DiaZem out of CDC hands, the longer the general population—Griff and me included—can gather information and plan.
“After much discussion, Griffin will be accompanying the mission not only because of his personal interest but because he is the only one of us without the conductor gene who is physically capable of walking the distance.
“Most people are scared. They will be afraid of conductors and turn you in as soon as they sense something is wrong. I’ve already seen them stand behind people in line at a store holding up their cell phones or watches. Having Griff with you is essential if you find the need to interact with anyone unaffected outside of your group. Also, he refuses to stay behind.
“So, on that note, are there any caveats? Questions? As discussed, fire watch begins in an hour. Two hours each beginning with Duke, then Jack, myself, and we will cycle back through with Duke and Jack at an hour and a half each. Mrs. Russell, is five-thirty a good wake-up time for you?”
The group dispersed, even though Valerie had not answered. She was confused as to what fire they were watching for. She displayed enough confusion to warrant clarification because Max continued.
“In case you have an episode, we’ll have someone on hand to stop you. There will be someone outside your door all night watching for signs of electrical power. The second a light flickers, we will wake you. Just a precaution. The walls would stop any power surge from being revealed to the outside, and the exterior lights are on a different and protected circuit of their own. I don’t want you burning my house down from the inside out.”
The words stung. She started to get a sense that he did not like her and, as far as she was concerned, the feeling was mutual. All of his pleasantries were a front, and the idea of him watching her sleep intensified her feeling of contempt for the man. She wished Jack or even the scary woman would stay with her, but they had to rest as much as everyone else. She was thankful Jack volunteered to help, at least. Duke and Max were not traveling with the rest of them, so it made sense for them to get the least amount of sleep.
Valerie realized she was left alone in the dining room with Max. A swell of panic balled in her throat, like he caught her in a trap. The walls were smothering and contained her energy. Without another word, she walked away in search of Jack. His door was still open. Empty. A single chair sat across from her door. She balled her fists and quickened her pace. They had better not expect her to keep the door open all night while she slept. She walked into her room, but before she could get far enough in to reach the door handle, someone grabbed her arm, yanked her into the room and shut the door. In the darkness, all she heard was the click of the lock.