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Post 33 - BEYOND DOUBT
Excerpt from my novel Silent
Lips, which deals with a deadly virus that leads to New York City being
quarantined (available as an eBook for ONLY 99 cents):
It is my considered judgement, Mr President, the
general's flat voice had said softly a few minutes ago, that we are licked. If
this was a declared war with another nation then I would unhesitatingly
recommend that we sue for peace, at any price.
He sighed
and turned back to the spare figure of the officer.
The black
lined report lay on the table between them.
"General,
you are recommending an act of aggression against the Russians that amounts to
an act of war without any declaration of war, something we have never done
before."
The man
opposite him nodded.
"If
your basic assumption that the Russians have been responsible for the
introduction of the disease into the country is incorrect, then your proposal
would lead to a spread of the disease from our land to the rest of the
world."
He bent
forward, his large head shadowed, and stared sombrely at the military man.
"We
would be responsible for the end of the world if it is unchecked."
"Yes,
sir. I have considered that, sir. But there is a better than even chance in my
mind that they did bring it to us and that they do have an antidote."
The
President flipped through the report until he found the summary.
He read
it again and then stared at the general.
"You
are proposing that we introduce the disease into Russia and see whether they
have an antidote. If they do then we will insist on its being provided to us or
we will declare war on them, using all weapons at our disposal."
General
Holcroft nodded.
"All
the contingency plans are ready, sir. We have selected the Russian personnel in
the jails in Europe to be used to carry the disease back into the country. Our
own people are also on standby. As you know, sir, some of our troops in the
city are infected. We would be using them.
Some have volunteered; they know they are going to die. We have had dry
runs in the past, sir. They have all worked out. All the men we slipped into
Russia came back. The routes are all planned and are all still available,
despite the fact that the Russians have tightened up their security on their
borders. The last team came out a few hours ago."
The
President pushed his chair back and strode to the window again.
He spoke
with his back to Holcroft.
"What
if we are wrong, general? What if they did not do it?"
He turned,
his eyes burning into the other man's.
"We
have not established beyond doubt that they did. If we had, then I would
authorise the operation. I would have no other choice. You told me that you
thought others might have gotten to the Russian monument and perhaps introduced
the toxins into it, if it did come from the monument. How do we find
out?"
Holcroft
smiled thinly.
"I
believe we might try one last thing, sir."
He leant
forward in his chair and explained his plan in some detail.
The
President listened in silence, then he stood up signalling that the meeting was
over.
"It
is the lesser of two evils, general. You are authorised to implement it
immediately. Just make sure it
works."Post 34 - THE HIGHEST PRINCIPLE
Extract from my novel Silent
Lips, which deals with a deadly virus that leads to New York City being
quarantined (available as an eBook for ONLY 99 cents):
He stared at the steel
shuttered window, his hands busy sealing the tape on the girl's arm. "Fuck you, Marshall! You know she would
bleed to death if I didn't do something."
The
impersonal voice came over the speaker: "You know the rules. You are
supposed to avoid contact as much as possible."
It died
away and he waited, knowing what would come.
Several
seconds passed.
"I
am sorry, Schmiedli."
Marshall's
voice was quieter, the anger gone.
"We
have sealed the area off. You will have to be tested to see if you are infected
before we can let you out. Please strip and lie down on the spare table."
Johan
Schmiedli stared at the closed window, the words still repeating in his mind.
He knew the routine; he also knew there was no appeal against it.
It had
all been spelled out to him when he started here: the highest principle was to
keep as many of the doctors healthy as possible, because they were the only
hope in the search for a cure.
Slowly he
stripped his clothes off, dropping them on the floor. He tossed his wristwatch
on top of the untidy pile and swung his feet up onto the table.
"Your
glasses."
He took
them off and threw them onto the clothes; now he really felt vulnerable and
naked. He twisted his head and watched the artificial arms, moving towards the
table.
"We
will be going through the usual tests. You must help as much as you
can."
There was
a pause as the first arm dropped slowly to his arm, the needle entering his
arm. He winced and forced his arm to
stay where it was, resisting the urge to tear it away.
"We
are going to use the anaesthetic now. A general one."
The
second arm holding the gas mask dropped towards his face and he forced himself
to look up into it as it fell. It sank over his face and he heard the slight
hissing of the gas; the metallic voice of Marshall came over the intercom,
sounding a little apologetic.
"I'm
sorry, Johan."
He
felt the world slow down and a heavy weight fall on his body as the gas took
hold.Post 35 - MY TRADE
Extract from my novel Silent
Lips, which deals with a deadly virus that leads to New York City being
quarantined (available as an eBook for ONLY 99 cents):
"I come for my trade,"
the boy said. He had his hands under the seat of the wooden chair, and lifted
it a bit, moving it towards the table.
"What
trade?"
"I
sold him stuff."
The chair
moved another fraction closer to the bill.
"Who
did you sell to?"
"The
man." The little boy gestured at the room.
"I
see."
Burton
reached for the bill and moved it closer to the table's edge.
"A
young man?"
"Yeah.
That's him."
"What
did you sell him?"
The chair
scraped closer to the table.
"Blood."
Burton
took out a ten and placed it on top of the twenty.
"What
blood?"
"My
blood."
"How
much did you sell him? When? What did he use it for?" The questions
escaped his control and burst out.
The boy
seemed nervous. He hesitated a bit before answering.
"A
bottle full, about every two weeks." He leant forward casually, resting
his hand on the table, keeping it a little way from the two bills.
Post 36 - THE UNTHINKABLE
Extract from my novel Silent
Lips, which deals with a deadly virus that leads to New York City being
quarantined (available as an eBook for ONLY 99 cents):
The priest held the torn piece of newspaper up to the
light; it was creased with constant folding and unfolding he had read it many times over in the
darkened church as he prayed and kept vigil for the city.
The reporter had started the article with a mention of one of the scientists who had described the experiments with the shotgun, and mentioned that the probabilities of genetic engineering leading to such a disaster was an improbability built on an implausibility.
So many
things had to happen before an accident could occur.
He
glanced at the heading, The Last of the Mohicans, and passed by the opening
paragraphs describing the happening of the improbability built on an implausibility.
He found
the paragraph he wanted and tilted his head a little as he read her words to
the congregation.
And if the unthinkable happened; if we did die, if mankind did cease,here on earth.Then the experiment would be over, never to be repeated elsewhere.Man would not start elsewhere. The probabilities of the same combination of chance developments and mutations occurring again in a similar environment as had happened so many billions of years before are too low.We are truly the last of a great breed - the last of the Mohicans.
He
stopped reading. Soft sobbing filled the silent church. He looked at the
strained, saddened faces.
"May
God preserve us," he said softly.Post 37 - SOVBASE
Extract from my novel Silent
Lips, which deals with a deadly virus that leads to New York City being
quarantined (available as an eBook for ONLY 99 cents):
The train had speeded up
and the soldier straightened, resuming his seat. "It's all clear from here
on in, general."
Grant sat
down.
The train
slowed as it entered Grand Central, the
choppers swooping up and away, their job done.
They left
the train and strode down the station, amongst the piles of supplies and
machine gun nests. Bales of medical supplies and food packages littered the
platforms and stairways.
Grand Central Station
Grant
stripped off the vest and handed it to the sergeant, then he strode up the
stairs to the huge hall, skirting the piled goods and walking rapidly across
the hall, his shoes clacking on the floor.
He checked his watch against the large Newsweek clock and then stepped
outside the door, noting the machine gun nests and accordion wire that
surrounded the entrances to the station. The elevator to the top of the Pan Am
building was also heavily guarded, and he rode up with one of the guards who
handed him over to the chopper pilot at the top.
The
takeoff was easy, and the pilot set course across the rooftops, gaining
altitude and watching the ground carefully. The gunner cocked the guns and
peered down as well, tension in the creases in his face.
"You
expecting anything?" Grant shouted and the gunner grinned, his eyes still
on the roofs.
"No,
sir. Just careful, sir. We were told some of the bastards have ground
to air rockets and might try to take us out, sir."
Grant
peered out of the side window at the giant supply choppers roaring in and out
of the brightly lit parking grounds outside the Metlife Stadium.
The
chopper touched down inside the stadium itself.
Grant
and the other passengers stepped down, bending to avoid the rotors, and made
their way through the piles of food and equipment stacked all over the floor.
Similar piles were ranged up the sides of the stadium; trucks came and went
loading and unloading. The stadium was one of the main food gathering and
distribution points in the city.Post 38 - IF THEY WANT A WAR
Extract from my novel Silent
Lips, which deals with a deadly virus that leads to New York City being
quarantined (available as an eBook for ONLY 99 cents):
Certain places were natural focal points of their
occupation of the city: Grand Central Terminal, with its coppery green roofed
forty eight covered acres and one hundred and thirty three tracks on two
levels, had a massive main concourse that would be a logical assembly hall,
especially now that the trains were not to move except to bring in troops and
food.
The jeep
slowly passed by the long lines of patient people waiting for the free bibles
given out each day by the American Bible Society headquarters at Broadway and
61st Street. Hundreds of thousands of
bibles had flooded into the city from all quarters of the world, each with its
own little handwritten message of love and hope and encouragement on the inside
cover. By Presidential decree the bibles
had been given priority passage in certain cargo drop areas and a dozen large
Army trucks ran a perpetual delivery service from those drop zones to the
Society. The jeep skidded to a halt and
Webb nodded to Hooker, watching him enter the building.
Hooker
punched the elevator button and it rose swiftly. The doors opened and he stepped past the two
soldiers guarding the observation post on that level. The windows were lined at
regular spaces with troops, each one hunched over the tripod supporting his
binoculars. He noticed that many of the men had sniper scopes.
Hooker
saluted General Grant and took the chair the officer had indicated with a brief
wave of a blunt hand. They had worked together several years ago on a hostage
incident in Europe.
"Listen,
colonel, those bastards out there are killing my boys."
Grant
swept the curtains aside and gestured down at the streets with one huge
hand.
"They're
gunning them down like dogs down there."
He
dropped the curtains and turned back to Hooker.
"Now
you better tell me what to do to stop this crap before I turn my men loose on
those bastards. If they want a war, they will get one."Post 39 - THE GOVERNOR’S GIFT
Extract from my novel Silent
Lips, which deals with a deadly virus that leads to New York City being
quarantined (available as an eBook for ONLY 99 cents):
The Governor smiled to himself: he was coming in one
of the modern coaches, one that flew. He touched the rose in his lapel, the
symbol of the state of New York that he wore as his badge of office.
The
Governor smiled at Naomi Jacobs, holding the package out to her, his arm braced
against the tight turn of the chopper.
She took
it and opened it, exclaiming with delight when she peeled off the last layer of
paper and revealed the solid crystal apple, the round stalk protruding from the
top a Steuben's crystal apple.
She
cupped it in her hands and stared into it, at the distorted image of her hands
below it. At the bottom the clearness was broken by the folds of the crystal.
It was about four inches high.
"Oh,
Governor!" she breathed, and he shared her delight with a sudden chuckle
that wiped the strain from his face.
"It's
yours," he said softly.
"An
apple for the woman who so loves the Big Apple."
The
chopper pilot circled the building carefully before bringing the chopper in for
a slow landing on the white square with the red circle in the middle on top of
the tower. The sides of the building fell sheer to the streets below. Away in
the distance a B52 was cruising across the city, its engines muted with
distance. Supplies suddenly spilled out of it, parachutes blossoming in the
clear sky.
Governor
Cobb ducked his head under the whirling rotors and helped Naomi down the
stairs.Post 40 - YES, MR PRESIDENT!
Extract from my novel Silent
Lips, which deals with a deadly virus that leads to New York City being
quarantined (available as an eBook for ONLY 99 cents):
There were tears in his
eyes, running down his cheeks.
"I
thought about it and I knew the answer had to be Yes! Yes! a thousand times
Yes! We have been called to fight a war against an enemy more terrible and more
dangerous to our country than any in our glorious past. I asked myself: if this
had happened in any other great city in this fair land of ours would I expect
them to say anything else than Yes! Yes, Mr President!
"Shut us in so that we can grapple with this
scourge and beat it down!
"Let
us help you and our fellow citizens throw a wall up against the spread of this
terrible thing. Let us help you save the millions who are outside and so far
are safe from it."
The crowd
was on its feet now, cheering the old fighter.
"One
of our great Presidents went to a city that was in danger from another kind of
enemy and told them: Ich bien ein Berliner! Now I say to you, I am proud to
stand here and tell you and the world that I am a New Yorker!"
The
singing had started in the corner of the hall and was spreading.
"If
the only thing I can do in this terrible, terrible time is to wait this side of
the wall and if necessary lay down my life for my fellow citizens, then I say:
Take me! Take me! Take me!"
He grabbed
the microphone in both hands and joined in the song, starting at the beginning,
his powerful voice roaring out Oh! Say can you see in the dawn's early light
... and the crowd stood and sang with
him, the pride they had shining in their eyes.
This,
they were saying, as their massed voice rang through the huge hall and out to
the nation through the television cameras, this is our moment. Tomorrow, in the
cold light of the dawn, we will live with our fears again, but now we are
marching with that wild, crazy, proud old man. Now we are living our commitment
to that wild, crazy, proud country of ours.Post 41 - MEMORIES
Extract from my novel Silent
Lips, which deals with a deadly virus that leads to New York City being
quarantined (available as an eBook for ONLY 99 cents):
"Moonshine starts over
there, at the bridge, and stretches to the end of the park," he shouted
over the roar of the wind through the open window.
"We'll
sweep it about a dozen times today, to impress you with our thoroughness,"
he laughed.
He jabbed
the buttons and she heard the hissing start behind her, turning to watch the
spray whirling behind the planes as they moved across the city. The spray
kicked and bucked in the turbulent air; they were flying so low she could see
it settle on the buildings and roofs
Jess came
over the quadrangle and suddenly saw the wedding party a little off to one
side, posing near the fountain for photographs.
"Hey,
Baby!" he shouted loudly, kicking the controls lightly and heading towards
them. The spray twisted in the
turbulence behind his AgCat.
"This
is gonna be a wedding you'll never forget!"
He
whooped and cut his engine, slowing the plane to a near stall.
"You
can't!" Naomi exclaimed, her face concerned as she watched the ground
swinging up towards them.
"Watch
me!" Jess howled, flashing her a cocky grin.
The
wedding party had seen him, and they broke now, running helter skelter across
the green grass.
He
cheered the bridle couple on, leaning out of the open window and waving
frantically as he headed after them. They ran away from the main crowd, the
bridegroom looking over his shoulder as he checked the path of the AgCat.
"Tell
this to your grandsons!" Jess Hungate yelled down at them as he swept over
them. He glanced back, laughing as the
spray descended on them, covering the woman's white dress.
He turned
the AgCat and flew back to them.
The bride
was sprawled on the ground, weeping; her mate stood staring up at the
approaching AgCat, his face green from the spray.
"Honey,
it's for your own good," he roared out of the window as he neared them.
The
bridegroom thrust his fist into the air, his right hand slapping his upper arm.
"That's
the stuff, my gay young cockerel! You do that to her tonight and she'll never
forget the happy ending. You'll be a goddam hero!"
He turned
to Naomi, yelling over the engine's noise.
"All
gotta get it, Journalist. Think of their memories!"
She twisted
in her seat and watched the wedding party disappear behind them.
"Memories,"
she shouted, and then suddenly they were both roaring with laughter as the
small plane sped between the buildings. They had flown three sorties in the
morning; this was their first one of the afternoon.
Naomi
Jacobs left after two more trips, her eyes alive with merriment and cheeks
flushed. As she shook Jess's hand, she
said Memories, and they laughed
together.Post 42 - NAOMI HOPE PROCESSIONS
Extract from my novel Silent
Lips, which deals with a deadly virus that leads to New York City being
quarantined (available as an eBook for ONLY 99 cents):
There never seemed, in
retrospect, to be any one single starting point for the Naomi Hope Processions
that took place in the city; somehow it just seemed that they were not there
and then the next night they were.
People
poured into the streets as dusk settled over the troubled city; solemn
processions marched in subdued silence from all points of the city, converging
on Central Park.
Traffic
stopped and the troops and police stood quietly as the crowds flooded over
streets and across squares, little lamps made from a sawed off broomstick and a
metal box with a candle inside and the shape of an apple cut into its four
sides swinging in rhythm with their strides, the glittering candlelight skittering
across the pavement and sidewalks, merging into other little gleams and
parting, swinging back and forth, back and forth on the way to the park.
The city
had come to wait in vigil for the woman lying in the Parklab, silent flames
framing anxious faces, eyes which no longer hid their grief focussed on the
bright buildings behind the barbed wire fences.
The
silent vigils sprang up in cities across the world, with apple lanterns casting
beams over the pillars of St Mark's Cathedral in the Vatican; the tall pillar
of Nelson in Trafalgar Square; the grim walls of the Kremlin; the rutted
streets of Peking; the grandeur of the Parthenon; the moving waters of the
canals in Venice; the grey cobblestones of the pedestrian mall in sombre
Frankfurt; the steep sides of the tamed River Seine; the small circle of the
Dam Square in Amsterdam; the gleaming
tramlines curving through the centre of Zurich; the tulip mouthed opera
house in Sydney harbour; the pink walls of the stately Mount Nelson Hotel in
Cape Town.
Then, one
by one, the cities switched their lights off when the Naomi Hope Processions
started.
Hour
after hour the streets filled with the lights of candles crying to a seemingly
indifferent God for mercy, for the stricken city and for the, stricken half girl,
half woman lying unconscious in the brightly lit Parklab.
Each
night the processions grew in size, each one fed by the previous one and by the
news of similar processions in city after city throughout the world.
Dense
masses, many in the black of mourning, moved through them led by muffled drums,
moving to ease the tension of the grief
that seemed to go on and on without any relief.
Their
sadness and fear welled out, unspoken but palpable; they were waiting for the
inevitable.Post 43 - GETTYSBURG
A mosquito landed on his
hand and he let it bite, watching it and thinking of the second day of battle,
when two armies of Americans had faced each other, both occupying little ridges: blue coats on Cemetery Ridge, and, a mile
away, across a shallow valley, another
ridge, Seminary Ridge, with its massed grey coats.
Americans
killing Americans, he thought, his finger still busily tracing the numbers in
the stone.
One
o'clock: the intense artillery barrage,
metal whining over rock and
So loud
that the cries of the dying were never heard.
Then the
lull, and the incredibly beautiful, heartbreakingly beautiful sight of the grey
uniformed Confederates marshalling for their attack on the Unionist forces'
strongest point.
Aim for
the clump of trees, there in the middle, General Robert E. Lee
And the
guns fired once more.
And the
muskets snapped and snarled at the marching line of grey. And the two armies
caught at each other's throats on the edge of Cemetery Ridge. And the South
died and the American nation was forged under that merciless sun as Pickett's
bloody charge was beaten off and beaten back.
The
President caressed the cold stone one last time and rose, walking slowly down
the path, watching the sudden flashes of brief light of the fireflies between
the white stones.
Sudden
yellow firefly flashes at his feet, on the ground. He thought of the strength
he found most telling in Lincoln: his uncanny foresight. Before that harsh,
bitter tragedy had ended, long before the killing had halted, he was looking
forward to the peace to come, reaching out to shape the peace even before the
battle was over.
Now, he,
too, like Lincoln, would have to look forward, beyond the killing of Americans
by Americans, beyond what had to be done, to shape the future.
He stood
in front of the memorial to New York State, staring at the column; then he
knelt in front of it and pressed his face against the cold step. New York had
suffered then, in that war of Americans against Americans; she had lost men,
young men, in those bloody battles.
Should
she sacrifice now?
Tom Watts
watched the slumped figure of the President in front of the memorial and a cold
shudder shook his body in the hot night.
Holy shit.
The man was going to do it.
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