Chapter 4

  Temporary Peace

  Mark Moon

  Naval Air Station Key West

  Boca Chica Keys, Florida

  Walking into the barracks, Moon passed by a few sailors, giving them a nod as they exited. Across the hallway, he made a pit stop in the latrine and relieved himself as he laughed at how hostile the old man had been on the phone. He was on cloud nine, and nothing could ruin his day.

  Until…

  “Agent Moon, gather your men, and head to Hangar 13 as soon as possible, sir,” a young sailor spoke from behind him. It wasn’t even lunch time yet, and now this kid was about to mess up his momentum.

  “Did Captain Thompson send you, son?” Moon asked as he buttoned his uniform pants back up and turned around to face the young man, who was standing patiently by the door.

  “I’m sorry, sir, I just happened to see you walk inside the barracks, and well, I have orders, sir.”

  “That you do, not a problem. How soon to the hangar?” Moon asked. “Realistically, how soon?”

  Before he could answer, Yorgey passed by, then stopped and came back to the open door in a rush. “Mark, I finally found you⁠—”

  “Can a guy take a piss anymore?” Moon quipped.

  Yorgey addressed the young sailor. “I just came from the hangar. I’ll get him where he needs to go, son. Thanks for coming.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” the sailor said and left without another word.

  Moon noticed the almost dreadful look on Yorgey’s face was not of his normal, stoic self. “What’s up? Why the rush?”

  “Well, we got a ride, but it ain’t choppers. Apparently, it’s leaving in the next hour. So we have to gear up and load.” Yorgey danced around as if his mind was telling him to go one place, while his body went to a separate place he still needed to go. It was like he didn’t know which way was up.

  “Calm down. Lay it out to me like I’m an idiot kid,” Moon replied. The hair on his neck stood on end, and his gut churned.

  After a few breaths, Yorgey spoke. “All right. We have a ride. It’s a C-130—but not an old bucket of bolts like before. It’s actually clean, shined up even. Anyhow, we have a three-hour direct flight where we will in-flight rig, and then the pilots will airdrop us over the CDC’s parking lot in Maryland.”

  Moon laughed. He was in the loop with Yorgey’s phobia of jumping static line. Hell, he didn’t think Yorgey liked planes much at all anymore; even though he ran command and control from helicopters, there was something about planes that Yorgey didn’t care for. And Moon thought, after the last plane ride that sucked Stinson and Owen out of a gaping metal hole in the side of it, he didn’t blame him one bit.

  “Will, relax, man. Statistically, we most likely won’t last much longer, so maybe this plane ride will be a quick death for us all?”

  “Not funny. You know, I don’t care about flying; it’s the jumping that I hate. In my mind, I always wonder maybe the parachute rigger was having a bad day and just didn’t give his all when packing my chute. Maybe the guy was homicidal and messed up a handful of chutes just for shits and giggles. That’s why I hate static-line jumps. You don’t pack your own shit, and you leave your ability to safely float to the ground up to a private that hates his own life,” Yorgey explained.

  “Man, I’ll get you some therapy once we get back, but until then, let’s get the guys moving⁠—”

  “They’re already headed that way. We have a van full of weapons, ammo, and gear that’s being brought to the hangar as we speak.”

  “Nice. Well then,” Moon said as he turned toward the sink and quickly washed his hands, then after drying them on his own blouse, he picked up the cardboard box he had set down before taking a piss. He reached inside and picked up a phone, then handed it to Yorgey. “Here’s your sat phone. Make sure you keep it handy at all times,” Moon said jokingly.

  Will held the phone and shook his head. Then he turned to follow Moon from the latrine, back into the hallway leading past the barracks and back out into the sunlight.

  As Moon walked into Hangar 13, it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust from the bright Florida sun to the white stadium fluorescent lighting high up in the metal rafters. Then as he squinted, he began to notice the four lines of gear already prominently laid out for him and his men across four different folding tables.

  “Now that’s what I call service,” Moon said as he stepped over to a table holding his personal M4, the one he had used in the CDC Atlanta mission, his chest rig with a fresh new mapping system, and helmet. Leaning forward, he took note that his magazines had already been shoved into the pouches and smiled. Then he pulled them all out, one at a time, pressing the top round down ensuring each magazine was fully loaded, which they were.

  Moon glanced up and over to the other three tables where he saw his men. Josh Allman stood twisting a Dead Air suppresser onto his AR10, while Yorgey was busy mounting his NODs to his helmet, and Rico Tag was staring at Moon with a jovial and sly smile. It was as if he were up to no good. Tag, being the youngest of the four, loved heading off into the unknown of a new mission. He was seasoned but still young enough to not fully understand that with each new mission came fresh death and an overwhelming abundance of pain and suffering.

  “Agent Moon,” a familiar voice spoke, causing Mark Moon to turn toward the voice. Captain Thompson was walking to him from an office, not far from where the tables had been set up.

  “Sir,” Moon replied. “Short time no see.”

  “I know we said after lunch, but I’ll get you and your men a to-go plate,” Captain Thompson said with a laugh. “I made a few calls, and based on assets in the area and the distance you must travel to the target, there’s a C-130 sitting on the tarmac, fueled and waiting on you.” He looked to the other three men as they seemed to all be naturally drifting toward him. “The mission has changed just a bit, or at least how we all thought you’d be delivered on target.”

  Moon bit the inside of his cheek to keep from telling himself he was already in the loop, that the mission was about to a take a turn to Fucksville as they were going to parachute via low-level static-line jump, as close to the target as they could get. In the back of his mind, he knew they were doomed, because this was a must-jump situation, regardless of conditions. So, if the ground winds were gusting, they were in for quite a hard landing.

  He leaned in and allowed the captain to say his peace and acted surprised.

  “I’m not sure what Yorgey told you, but you guys have roughly a three-hour flight to rig and jump. The plane will fly from east to west, and I mean dead east to dead west, along Willard Avenue, which is such a straight road that, if not for a handful of trees, the pilot could land on it instead of dropping you guys from a thousand feet.” Captain Thompson stepped forward and pulled out a map of the drop zone, pushed Moon’s gear slightly to the side, and unfolded the map, laying out for all to view. “You can see how open the area is. Winds right now are favorable, but once the pilot is close to target, he will use the wind to line up his approach, so you don’t get pushed into the buildings or, even worse, go long and hit the tree line.”

  Moon nodded and looked around at his men, seeing the only soured face belonged to Will Yorgey, but he already knew his issues with static-line jumps. All Moon could do was laugh at the situation. Looking back to Captain Thompson, he spoke. “Sir, you do the best you can to get us there. We don’t mind jumping. But, at a thousand feet, that doesn’t give us much time to pull that reserve if we need to.”

  Captain Thompson was silent as he processed Moon’s words.

  “Give us twelve hundred feet AGL and all will be kosher,” Moon replied.

  “I’ll make it happen. I don’t know why the pilot wanted to drop at a grand, but I’ll make sure you get the room you need, just in case.”

  “You never really know what the fly boys are thinking, but In my mind, given the situation at hand, there’s no need to drop below our typical twelve,” Moon replied, then glanced to Yorgey. In that moment, Moon quickly picked up on him smiling at the fact of adding the two hundred feet, just in case something went wrong.

  “I understand, and I’m sure it won’t be a big issue,” Captain Thompson explained. “Once you and your men are ready to climb aboard, the plane’s ramp is already down. But before you load up, Agent Moon, here in the next couple of minutes, I’ll need a word with you in the office, if you don’t mind. And I took the liberty of pulling the sample out of security to save you time.” He pointed to the glass window where two sailors were still standing in that office he had originally came from. “Those boys have been keeping an eye on it for me, so it’s safe, for now.”

  Moon’s brow furrowed as he thought about what the captain wanted to discuss in private but was also thankful for having the sample ready to go. “Sir, we can handle that now. That way, I can safely store the sample and prep it for the jump.”

  Chapter 5

  The Call

  Mark Moon

  Naval Air Station Key West

  Boca Chica Keys, Florida

  “Shut the door behind you,” Captain Thompson said to the sailors who had been guarding the sample as he dismissed them. Without pause, he then turned to Mark Moon, and as the door closed, he spoke again. “Mark, go ahead and slide your sat phone over to me.”

  “Sir?” Moon questioned but did as he was told.

  Captain Thompson picked up the phone and looked at his watch, then typed a set of numbers into the phone but refrained from pushing send. “Can I call you Mark? Is that fine by you?”

  “By all means, sir. I’ll answer to however you refer to me.”

  The captain smiled. “We are going to call…” Then he paused as he thought about that phrase. “Poor choice of words, because we aren’t doing anything, but you are. You’re going to call Doctor Halbrook right now. But keep in mind, he prefers to be called Peter.”

  “No shit, he’s got a phone⁠—”

  “Once we located Peter, we also delivered him a sat phone. Now, while he’s deep inside his bunker, the phone is as worthless as a paperweight”—he glanced at his watch again—“so the good doctor is about to pop his hatch so he can specifically talk to you. I feel this is quite critical, since you are headed out on one of the most important missions in our lifetime.”

  The words echoed inside his head like a shotgun blast. Mark Moon knew the stakes were high, but to have the base commander tell him to his face just how high they were gave him goosebumps along his forearms.

  “It’s time, so I’ll hit send, and then you’ll have his number stored in the call log on your phone,” Captain Thompson explained while pressing the button before sliding the phone back across the desk.

  Moon picked it up and stuck it to his ear. Just like before, when he spoke to the old man, he could hear the audible tone.

  “Hello,” the voice on the other line eked out with a noticeable urgency.

  Moon could hear the stress layered in the tone of his voice. “Doctor Halbrook, I presume?” Moon replied.

  “Please, call me Peter. Is this Agent Moon?” the man asked. “I have been expecting your call.”

  “It is, sir. I’ll be on my way to you shortly⁠—”

  “Listen carefully, Agent. We don’t have a lot of time, but I had to hear your voice. I had to be able to sample that, so when I open the bunker to you, I’ll undoubtedly know that it’s really you.”

  “I understand, Peter⁠—”

  “You must hurry. I know you are deftly aware of what is at stake here. The sample you hold isn’t just important, it’s everything. If you lose it, there is no second chance⁠—”

  “Peter, you can count on my team and I. We won’t let you down⁠—”

  “Agent Moon, I’ve seen the data, and if I find what I believe I will find flowing within your blood, adding the sample to it could change everything. This would be our first real sign of a viable counteragent to VX-e. But you must listen. Keep the sample cool, and keep it sealed and safe. And above all, trust no one. This all originated with the Russians, and if they get wind that you have that sample, they will stop at nothing to kill you. Don’t call again, not until you are near the bunker. Even then, I may not answer, because I’ll be underground.

  “There’s no perimeter, just an everyday home, but once you are at my house, go to the back door and the code is zero-two-two-seven. Repeat that back to me—” Moon listened intently but found himself wondering how the doctor had survived for as long as he had.

  “Zero-two-two-seven, back door code,” Moon replied.

  “Once inside, make your way to my basement and you’ll know what to do when you get there.”

  “There will be four of us, but rest assured, we are on our way, sir!”

  “Good, I’ll be waiting. Remember, time is not on our side. Every hour we lose, more people die. I’m sure the captain has a picture of me, so burn it to your memory, because I’m alone in here, and if anyone else emerges from my bunker, you should kill them on the spot.”

  The phone went silent, and Moon pulled it away from his face and found himself staring at the screen as if the connection would magically return. He scrolled to the call log and inspected the number, memorizing it, then simply powered the phone off.

  Captain Thompson opened the slim pencil drawer in the center of the desk and retrieved a glossy picture the size of a baseball card. “You’ll notice the picture’s a tad bit older, but it’s all we have. He is a graduate of the University of California with a PhD in microbiology and an MD in infectious diseases and then received a second PhD in virology and immunology from Emory University in Atlanta. I tell you all of this so you understand that Doctor Halbrook is our real shot at a cure. You just have to get him the sample and your blood before it’s too late.”

  Moon looked at the captain as if he didn’t already have enough pressure on him. That he could have left the credentials out. “Well, sir,” Moon said and stood, then opened the two latches that sealed the case holding the sample. The lid lifted up, and he could see the familiar stainless-steel tube inside. “As soon as I can verify the sample is in place,” he said as he picked up the small tank and opened it; a white mist of smoke slipped from within as his eyes did indeed positively identify that the sample was still held safely inside, “I can get my gear and my men, and we can board the fastest thing smoking out of town.” He secured the small tank and then resealed the container that held the sample secure.

  “We are on your time now, Agent Moon,” Captain Thompson said, holding a hand out, and the two men shook. “Godspeed, my friend, Godspeed!”

  Chapter 6

  Taking Off

  Mark Moon

  Naval Air Station Key West

  Boca Chica Keys, Florida

  The tires thumped along the runway, striking natural cracks in the cement as the C-130 gathered speed. Within a short distance, the four turboprop engines roared to life, and the thumping tires became as consistent as a washboard. The plane pulled into the air, lifting its nose in an almost perfect direction. It only took the pilot a slight correction to get them on their correct heading.

  Inside the plane, Mark Moon leaned against the fabric of his bench seat and waited for the plane to level off once it got to its cruising altitude. Next to him sat Director Will Yorgey, who was not happy about having to jump yet continued to move even closer to doing just that. He was a solid tactician, and a little fear would never have caused him to flounder.

  Across from Moon, shoulder to shoulder with their backs against the interior skin of the airframe, both Josh Allman and Rico Tag discussed hamburgers, to include the one and only Fort Benning’s world-famous Ranger burger.

  Moon smiled as the plane shimmied a touch, but not enough to unnerve him. The shaking plane was a moot point in his life, as he thought about having spoken to the old man who was watching his dog, Porsche. Moon thought about the old man’s cabin in the mountains of West Virginia, and he hoped to return there before he died. That was his goal, his dream. And in the collapsing world, the ones without dreams were as good as dead.

  Yorgey tapped Moon on the shoulder, then spoke into the small boom mic attached to the green headset he wore. “Hey, man, you’ve got a slew more jumps under your belt than I do, but what do you think, maybe two hours before we rig up?”

  Moon smirked. “Back in the day, we flew to Panama and inflight rigged. Eighteen straight hours on a C-130B, similar to this one. We had fifty-seven Rangers on that bird. I was number one in the door, and when they raised that door up and the heat of Hell slipped inside that air-conditioned fuselage, I thought I was going to die.”

  “That’s not real encouraging, Mark, not at all,” Yorgey replied.

  Moon transmitted back, “It’s the truth. I sucked down a full camelback of water before I even jumped. Hell, I remember looking out and seeing nothing but jungle. It was daylight, but once the jump master got the green light and tapped me to jump, only then could I finally see a massive open field that tricked me into believing things were looking up. The next thing I knew, I was floating to ground, and the planes were flying away in formation. It was surreal, almost peaceful, after I pulled my earplugs out and heard nothing but calm.”

  “So it ended well?” Will asked.

  “Sure, you could say that. The field ended up being thirty-foot-tall elephant grass that I disappeared into. It was like the earth opened her mouth and swallowed us all whole. We just vanished in this prehistoric land of giant grass. After I got my gear together, I pulled out my compass and painstakingly moved out to the collection point. To this day, because of that grass, it was the softest landing I’ve ever had. And it was also the most terrifying thing, trying to find my way out of it. Eventually, I made it to the collection point, and then we boarded landing crafts that sailed us around the island before dumping us off into the triple-canopy jungle. I’m not exaggerating a bit when I say Panama was much like Jurassic Park. It was very much like it.”