The Girl who Saved the World (Death Fields 6)

“Because I have a hunch it’s going to lead back to Hamilton and that’s how we’re going to convince Perez to fight back.”

*

Truth be told, I think my father may have been more than a pack rat. The term hoarder comes to mind—particularly with papers. Anything he found useful, newspaper clippings, articles, torn out scientific journal entries that caught his eye was squirreled away, yellowing and fading in one of his cabinets. Whatever we’re looking for is a needle in a paper haystack, but just before dawn my bleary eyes stumble across a thick envelope marked ‘Grant Proposals’ in my father’s scratchy script.

“I may have found something.”

Wyatt drops the stack of files on the seat next to him and walks around the desk. He rubs his eyes, red from dust, and leans over my shoulder. Together, we flip through the sheath of papers.

The file is full of grant proposals, requests and receipts, all stamped with the seal of HSA—Homeland Security. Each a correspondence between a private company, PharmaCorp, and a particular office within HSA—research and development. Hamilton’s signature is scrawled at the bottom of each page. He’d been appointed by the President.

The first contacts were between Hamilton and Avi, starting years before. They’re not about the E-TR virus or anything pharmaceutical-related either. It seems that Hamilton was in charge of the early concept of developing Safe Cities and Avi’s building and its top-of-the-line survivalist features were of interest to the government. They wanted his expertise on how to make sustainable cities in case of a regional emergency.

Avi shared his knowledge—agreeing to a multi-million dollar consultation fee. In the files there are blueprints of Cincinnati, Winston-Salem, Bangor, and Birmingham. Unspecified money was given to HSA to start the construction. These projects were never announced publicly—only the highest state officials aware of their existence—and even then, it seemed like a distant worry.

“It seems normal until Hamilton’s needs changed,” Wyatt comments, pointing to a printed email exchange. Hamilton expressed ideas about the possibility of using parasites to make our enemies sick long enough to allow soldiers in and out of a combat zone safely. By this time my sister was a rising star at Emory University. Avi and Hamilton plucked her out of academia and into biological warfare research. That’s when Hamilton asked for the experiments to move to test subjects. Human subjects.

“I can see why Avi balked,” I say, scanning the remainder of the page. “It was too risky, not to mention violating a dozen codes and regulations.”

“That Hamilton was willing to ignore.”

“So then I guess this is where Jane came in,” Wyatt says, flipping to the next page. The paperwork continues but it’s no longer on official letterhead. They seem to be a series of handwritten notes between my sister and Hamilton as they continue the research. But it’s not just science talk—it’s something more—a philosophy.

I move the paper closer to the flashlight on the desk.

“The plans and completion of the early stages of the Safe Cities made me realize that although we’re prepared for the effect—we’re not really addressing the cause. The government is required to go through so many channels. A ridiculous amount of red tape. We’re seeing the change happen right now—the fabric of society is being altered as we speak by radicals and religious idealization. Women and children are enslaved in the name of God, while boys are led to the slaughters of war.

These battles have already reached our shores, but what is happening, just out of our line of vision, has the ability to rewrite history. And although technically my hands are tied, I’m unwilling to sit by and let that happen. There’s an answer—a way to keep our Safe Cities from ever being used. We just need to get to the warzone before our enemies gain ground. We need to eliminate the threat. We need to maintain the purity of our nation by striking first.”

I hand the paper over to Wyatt and move away from the desk. My nose itches from the dust and I have a headache. Running my hands over my face I say, “So he was the one that got her the funding to create the E-TR virus and send you and the others to spread it.”

“Looks like it.” He shuffles through a few more papers before setting them on the desk, but one. “Listen to this one, it’s dated from March—right when the Crisis began gaining speed.”

“I understand your concerns about the spread of the E-TR virus. We both knew it was a possibility. A chance we were willing to take. I think you called it “Collateral Damage,” and it’s not as though we’re unprepared. Within ten days the Safe Cities will begin lockdown protocol. The citizens in those areas will become our highest priority. Just as your facility and the staff you have acquired. Granted, it’s happened much faster than I expected but maybe that’s not a bad thing. The weak shall be culled. Yes, we will lose many good people along with the bad, but in the end the cream will rise to the top. Once the population declines we will be able to weed out the unfavorable. We can start fresh. We will be safe, our families will have protection and that is the most important thing.

Dr. Ramsey, I have no doubt that even with all of our precautions several of the Safe Cities will struggle in the aftermath of the virus. This is where you and I will step in and continue our shared vision of the future…”

“Okay I’m done,” Wyatt says with a scowl on his mouth. He drops the paper on the desk.

“Here’s the thing,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. “I thought my sister was crazy, but Hamilton is a whole other level.”

“He knew Winston-Salem and Birmingham would have problems. He probably sabotaged them to give himself the upper hand.”

I think of the charred remains we walked through on our way out of town. It could have been natural—we’ve seen many fires along the way but then again, they should have been prepared.

“Do you think he assumes Jane is still on his side?”

“I hope so. She said she would make sure she remained useful to him.” I recall our last conversation before we left New Hope. “I knew she was hiding something. I just had no idea what.”

We blink at one another and I try to process everything. Being in my house, finding more secrets about my sister, the never-ending deceit that started the apocalypse. I’m tired but I say, “We need to get back and warn them. The Hybrids were probably an unexpected road block—one he planned on using us to clean up. But he can?

??t be far behind.”

“We’ll go, but not until after we fuel up and rest. It’s a long ride back.”

“Four hours.”

“Each.” He holds my eye. “Four for you. Four for me.”