Apache Dawn: Book I of the Wildfire Saga Read Free Page B

their home and their parents behind.   Nancy Masters cried at leaving her own babies in the ground.   Almost all of the people on the bus had been sick but survived, barely.   Three others apparently hadn’t been exposed and wore masks and clean-suits.  
    Chad was the only one, the examining doctor explained, that she had heard of who had not taken ill despite above-average exposure to the sickness.   She and her assistant were very excited to talk to Chad, but he ignored them and found a seat near Mr. Masters, next to a window.  
    “Hey doc, take it easy.   He buried his mother a few days ago.   The rest of his family last week,” said Mr. Masters in a warning tone.
    The doctor looked at her clipboard of information through her spacesuit-like outfit and relented.   “I suppose there’ll be plenty of time for questions when we get to the survivor processing facility in Fort Worth.”
    Chad watched as his house receded into the distance.   He looked at the little mounds in the back yard with the crude tombstone.   In his hands, Chad held a wrinkled picture of Mom, taken by the pool the previous summer, when all was right with the world, and pandemics were just for paranoid people.  
    She had her sunglasses pushed up on her head, her large blue eyes were smiling and her chestnut-colored hair pulled back, tumbling over one shoulder.   The smile on her face as she looked at her husband’s camera showed nothing but health and happiness.   Chad suddenly felt the warmth of tears rolling down his face as he gently held the picture of Mom.
    When he did cry, it was for her, and her alone.

C HAPTER 2

    Ten years later…

    Washington, D.C.
    The Naval Observatory.
    Office of the Vice President of the United States.

    A ND YOU ' RE SURE THIS is the only way?”
      “ If you want what we’re offering.   Yes, ” said the cultured voice on the other end of the secure line.
    The Vice President of the United States sighed.   “Of course I want what you’re offering. But the price is…steep.”   He tried once again to place the very slight accent of the voice.   It almost sounded like New England, but had more of a neutral, Mid-Atlantic pronunciation of vowels.
    “Nothing of value comes cheaply.   You of all people should know that, Mr. Vice President.   What have you sacrificed−what have you lost in order to attain the office you sit in at this very moment?”
    A chill went down the Vice President’s spine as he listened to the voice on the phone.   He barely resisted the urge to look around a hidden camera.   He couldn’t shake the feeling of someone standing just over his shoulder.   He sighed again.   “Let me think about it.”
    There was an uncomfortable pause on the other end.   “Think fast.   This offer will not last forever and my employers are very impatient people.”
    Arrogance started to rear its head inside the Vice President, shrouded cleverly in the form of political indignation. “Now you listen to me, Reginald.   I am the Vice President of the—”
    “You have 24 hours to decide, Mr. Vice President,” the calm, confident, almost smug voice said.   “The President is setting himself up to fall this very week.   Our plans must be moved forward.   It would be positively shameful to let this opportunity pass.”
    “I, uh, I never really agreed to this…” the Vice President said weakly.   He looked at his desk calendar: Monday.   Why must bad news always come on a Monday?   The President was a close friend of his.   Their wives played tennis together every weekend.  
    “I understand your reluctance, Mr. Vice President.   Honestly, I do.   But you must remember we have other options…”
    “But—wait just a minute,” the Vice President said, painfully aware that fear had crept into his voice.   “We agreed you’d leave my family out of this!”
    “That was before you decided to change the terms of our agreement.   Do you, or do you not have the—how do I