Chaos Destiny (Angels & Assassins: Apocalypse #1)

Chapter 1

1

TAYLER DIAZ MD, PHD

“So, as I’ve said countless times before, do not let inaction become our nation’s biggest crutch. If we fail to act, I guarantee the adage will prove true—pride will become humankind’s greatest sin. And it will be the end of us.”

I ended the virtual call upset enough to foam at the mouth. The makeshift morgue at the Centers for Disease Control was at capacity. More and more infections were popping up all over the nation. Numerous babies had died, and the response from Washington D.C. remained lackluster and abysmal; they didn’t want to risk a public panic. Yet, they’d convened the country’s brightest minds to tackle what we were quickly realizing was a David and Goliath situation.

As far as I could tell, we wouldn’t be the victors.

“Hunter?” I called. “What were those numbers again?”

Hunter was one of two in the group without an endless list of credentials after his name. Still, he was the most brilliant of us all. He asked thinker’s questions, curious questions. Rather than regurgitating theories, concepts, and case studies, he looked further into what that information could tell us—how we could use that information to solve our current crisis instead of using circular arguments to reiterate the same thing: that we were screwed.

“More than half the nation in under thirty days,” Hunter said, his eyes so strained that I was surprised his irises hadn’t turned purple. “More than two-thirds of the globe in less than ninety.”

We were given Top Security clearance and shuffled into an underground bunker with limited access to outside communication, primarily through check-ins with the federal government. Each member had assigned security personnel, but our security seemed to be watching us rather than scanning for threats in the event of danger.

I faced our federal liaison, a brown-haired woman named Jane, who carried herself as plainly as her name. “They need to declare a national emergency before it’s too late,” I said, snapping off a pair of blue gloves she’d suggested I wear for optics during the call. “We should have been doing quarantines and curfews months ago. At this point, they need to be calling in the National Guard.”

Jane extended both hands toward me as if pushing air. “Wait, wait. What are you saying? You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying.”

“They need to start considering that this might be higher than a national emergency.”

“Or maybe you’re overreacting.”

I tossed the gloves into a nearby receptacle. “Look, why bring me in to lead this project just to not listen to me? Plus, you heard what Hunter just said. Two-thirds of the population? That’s global eradication. Instead of trying to break treaties with allies for no reason outside of political grandstanding, we need to worry about our country first.”

“The federal government would like to make sure it’s not a biological weapon from a hostile country,” she argued. “I mean, the virus, bacteria—whatever— still hasn’t been identified. Maybe do that first before you start insinuating outlandish things. This is still America, Ms. Diaz.”

“Dr. Diaz,” I corrected. “You might not like my ideas, but respect my credentials.”

The only thing we’d managed to do, amongst all of our so-called brilliant minds, was name the strain—NPmS 14:

Neuropathogenic Polymutative Strain-14

It was infectious, entering the body through blood and saliva, and it mutated so quickly, I was afraid it would soon be airborne without strict lockdowns from coast to coast.

The symptoms weren’t immediate, and with the way it devoured brain tissue, it made Mad Cow Disease look like a twenty-four-hour stomach bug. However, the only thing we were confident about was that we had never seen anything like it before.

“Human lives are at stake,” I said.

Jane folded her arms, grimacing slightly. “China is mobilizing, Dr. Diaz,” she pointed out. “Why would China be mobilizing?”

“Could it be, I don’t know, prepping for a pandemic?”

“Or something hostile.”

“You’re a joke.”

“Excuse me?”

Hunter waved a hand. “Hey, Dr. D? Can I talk to you in private for a moment?”

I shot Jane a final look to ensure she grasped my contempt and joined Hunter in an empty conference room down a narrow, poorly lit corridor. The minute I entered, he peered into the hallway before shutting the door and joining me at the long table in the center. Then, he said nothing, but he didn’t have to. All it took was reading his face, and I heard everything he didn’t say.

“Who’s infected?” I asked.

“Jane and Dr. Milton, I’m sure of,” he said. “Dr. Pearce is a hunch.”

I ran my fingers through my slim locs. “You’ve got to be kidding me. With how long this thing can incubate, they could have been infected days ago.”

“Jane had to have gotten infected on her last trip out, which means it’s likely rampant in D.C. Then, I think she brought it to Milton or Pearce. Maybe both. Or Milton and Pearce infected one another, but Jane is definitely Patient Zero. Doesn’t matter, though. That’s not the worst of it.”

A woman named Rashida entered the room, the only other person without medical or research accolades. They didn’t arrive together, but from the way they reacted when they saw that they’d both been summoned, I could tell they knew each other from before.

Rashida set a device on the table, one far more basic than any other gadgets I’d seen them use.

She pressed a button.

Seconds into the transmission, my blood turned to ice:

Operation Nightshade.

Target location: CDC Bunker.

Theta-9.

No survivors.

Repeat: no survivors.

I’d talked to the Feds only moments ago.

They’d planned my execution while looking me in the eyes as if my life amounted to nothing. I’d given my life to my career and research, and I was one of the best at what I did. Yet, to them, I was about as worthy as a piece of cardboard saturated in rat urine.

“You’ve consistently been the primary voice of reason down here,” Hunter said. “You’re fighting the hardest. Of everyone here, you’re the one me and Shida felt we could trust.”

I could barely understand him.

Fog slowly diffused throughout my skull.

“Dr. D, do you feel like there are others we could trust?”

Outside of Omar, my bodyguard, the answer was no. “Just Omar,” I said. “But how do we get out? They have us locked down like a maximum security prison.”

“Shida and I can get you out.”

“Do you have somewhere to go?”

“I need to get back to my wife. I haven’t talked to her since I got here, and trust me, stopping me from doing what I want isn’t easy. For them to have us that locked down? I didn’t trust this process from the start. I’ve been looking for a way out since day one.”

The shadow of coordinated footsteps moved along the basement windows.

Hunter shoved a keycard into my grip. “Here. Get Omar. Don’t worry about your things. None of it will matter in the long run. From what I can tell, there won’t be much of a world to return to.”

The door burst open.

Omar poked his head in. “Tayler, are you all?—”

“They’re entering the door code,” Hunter announced. “We need to go. Right now. Move, move, move.”

We hurried out of the conference room and raced down the hallway in the opposite direction of the video conference room. Along the way, I briefed Omar on the situation. Rashida and Hunter brandished guns, which showed me how foolishly underprepared I was for my country to so blatantly stab me in the back. I was used to them brandishing a knife and telling me it was a piece of cotton. This time, they didn’t bother with the gaslighting bullshit.

“Tayler,” Omar called. He handed me a pistol. “In the event we get separated. I know you know how to use it.”

Hunter remained at the head of our four-person procession, keying open door after door, while Omar covered the rear. We’d been underground for weeks, but the maze of the layout wasn’t as fresh in my mind as it seemed to be for him. With how he moved, he could have navigated the halls blindfolded.

The next door he opened, we spotted camouflage. A canister rolled on the ground toward us, white smoke filling the narrow opening. My eyes and lungs immediately started to burn, so I covered my nose using the collar of my T-shirt.

Hunter and Rashida went one way.

Omar and I went another.

Shots rang out behind us.

While Omar provided cover fire, I searched for another exit, only to be hit with a locked door.

I swiped the card Julien gave me.

The lock clicked.

The door opened, and Omar pushed me into the sunlight, where our aching lungs soaked up fresh air. A half-wall blocked us from view as additional troops descended on the complex.

“Your turn to follow me,” he said, coughing as he reloaded. “Stay close.”

I nodded and stayed so close that our bodies created a single shadow along the exterior walls. Several minutes into our escape, he stopped underneath a bridge-like structure.

I collided with his back.

Despite it being midday, the campus was like a ghost town. The building’s glass walls towered over us, and the trees swayed in a gentle wind as if they knew what was about to happen but didn’t care—an indicator that it would be our sole burden to bear.

Omar jerked his head toward something ahead of us. “So, that’s how they do their own?”

I looked at where he was staring.

A visibly dying moth was perched on the breast pocket of Jane’s lifeless body, its wings opening and closing, their ends tattered like the hem of an old beach towel.

“Hey.” He gently grasped my chin. “Like I said, stay close, all right? Use that gun if you need to, even if it’s on me.”

I nodded again.

We headed for the empty main road.

As if needing further confirmation of what I’d seen, I looked over my shoulder.

Jane was now on her feet, looking directly at us.