Neil scowled as he studied the quarantine plans outlined at a website hastily assembled by the mayor’s office. The quarantine was distressingly complete and was being enforced by armed units of the U.S. Army and National Guard. He scrolled through a list of the major road blocks.
To the north:
U.S. 101 between Carpinteria and Santa Barbara
I-5 past Gorman at the 99 split
State highway 14 north of Lancaster
I-15 at Apple Valley
To the east:
I-10 at Palm Desert
To the south:
I-5 at Camp Pendleton Marine Corps Base
I-15 south of Temecula
To the west, the Pacific Ocean served as the ultimate road block. In addition, military vessels were patrolling the coast to prevent the escape of any motorized watercraft. According to the mayor’s statement, ships, aircraft, or vehicles attempting to run the blockade and pass from an inner containment ring to an outer one were subject to arrest or destruction.
Getting petroplague bacteria out of Los Angeles was going to be harder than he expected. He would need help. But from whom? The few Earth Jihadists he knew by name were no better placed than he was to implement the plan. One of them might get the cell leader involved, but then he would have to share the credit. He didn’t want to. He started the petroplague—unintentionally, yes, but his action nevertheless—and now he wanted the plague to end the age of oil in human history. Stopping global warming would be his personal achievement, making him one of the greatest environmentalists of all time. A peer of Rachel Carson and John Muir; Al Gore would kiss his ring. He felt drunk with power and possibility.
The support he wanted was a few mouse clicks away. He had a contact in an online community of doomsayers, people separated by distance, class, politics, and religion but united in their imminent expectation of The End.
He needed the collapsitarians.