STEELE FINISHED READING the report and couldn’t resist hitting the DELETE button on the tablet. She missed the days of paper printouts – she would have enjoyed wadding this particular report up and hurling the crumpled remains against the nearest wall.
The President looked up from her own copy and addressed Ty. “There’s not a chance that they’ve really created a synthetic meat, is there?”
Ty shrugged. “It’s remotely possible, I suppose, but even if they have . . . you’ll note that little missive contains no mention of the millions of unintelligent zombies staggering around out there. Unless Moreby is prepared to begin shooting his own kind, there’s no way they can guarantee human safety.”
“It’s absolute bullshit.” Steele couldn’t restrain herself, and the President and Ty both turned to look at her. “This is the same kind of disinformation Moreby’s been distributing for a while. This is about as valid as that ridiculous thing he sent out which was supposed to be from you, the little speech that made you look about as sane as a schizophrenic serial killer off her meds.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” the President noted, “I enjoyed the part about the First Spouse dying in the Lincoln Bedroom with a young intern.”
Steele knew that in reality the President’s late husband had died in the first battle for Washington, and that he’d been found with a gun in his hand on the National Mall near the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, not in flagrante delicto with another woman. The fact that the President could claim to find that fictitious slur amusing left Steele admiring her anew.
“I agree,” Ty said. “And I’ll add: I think this disinformation campaign on Moreby’s part is actually a good sign. We are winning in many areas – we know, for example, that human forces have retaken both Albuquerque and Denver – and I think Moreby’s getting a little desperate.”
Ty’s phone sounded. He glanced at the caller ID, and said, “It’s Marcus from Bolling. Excuse me for a minute . . .”
He rose and stepped out of the President’s office. Steele looked at her boss, who returned her gaze with determination. “We’ve still got a shot, Steele.”
“I believe you, but . . . I can’t help but wonder what happens even if we win. We’ve all lost so much; our families, our friends, our homes, our security. How do we go back?”
“We don’t go back. We go forward.”
“I know, but . . .” For a second it all threatened to overwhelm Steele. She struggled to keep from screaming, sobbing, laughing, throwing herself on the floor and letting everything just drain away. Giving up.
The President’s voice had softened when she spoke again. “It won’t be easy. We may win the war and fail in the reconstruction. I know that. But if we fail, we at least tried. It’s all we can do.”
Steele nodded. “It’s just . . . I’m so tired.”
“We all are.”
The office door re-opened and Ty Ward stood framed in the entrance, his expression one of astonishment. He seemed speechless.
The President asked, “Ty . . .?”
“That was Marcus up at Bolling. Major General Harland Dawson just surrendered to him. And he’s got Kevin Moon with him.”
“Is Dawson talking?”
Ty nodded to the President. “He says he wants to help us.”
Steele and the President could only look at each other, wondering. Thinking.
And daring to hope.
The interrogation took place in a conference room within Bolling Air Field. Steele and Ward were already present as Dawson was led into the room by two armed guards.
STEELE: Good afternoon, General Dawson. I’m Sandra Steele, serving as Director of Secret Services and Aide to the President, and this is Chief of Staff and Acting Joint Commander Ty Ward.
DAWSON [nodding]: Ms. Steele, Mr. Ward.
STEELE [to the guards]: Thank you, we’ll take it from here.
GUARD #1: Are you sure, ma’am? He’s a zombie . . .
STEELE [sets her pistol on the conference table]: I’m sure it will be fine, soldier.
GUARD #1: Yes, ma’am.
[The two guards exit]
STEELE: Have a seat, General. [He does] Are you comfortable? Can we get you anything? Oh, sorry, strike that.
DAWSON: I don’t need anything.
STEELE: Okay, then let’s get started. General Dawson, I should inform you that not only is this interrogation being recorded, but the President is listening live as we proceed.
DAWSON: I’m honored. Thank you, Madame President. I look forward to offering you my complete cooperation.
STEELE: Let’s talk about that, then. Until recently, you were a general in the NZOA.
DAWSON: Correct. Specifically, I commanded the New Zombie Order Army Southwest.
STEELE: And I believe your last act as their commander was to lead the NZOA against the human resistance in Southern California.
DAWSON: Correct. We had taken San Diego and Orange County, and were pushing into Los Angeles.
STEELE: When you abandoned your command.
DAWSON [hesitates, then]: Yes.
STEELE: Why did you do that, General?
DAWSON: Are you familiar with Operation Darwin, Director Steele?
STEELE: That’s the NZO project in which military commanders are fed specially selected humans to acquire additional military knowledge, yes?
DAWSON: That’s correct. I was a primary participant in Operation Darwin. However, during the incursions into Los Angeles, my superiors were delayed in providing me with sufficient subjects. I . . . was starving. I disobeyed orders and engaged in the consumption of a subject who was not approved by Operation Darwin.
WARD: Yes, we’ve got that here. You consumed Hector Robles, a leader in the Southern California resistance forces.
DAWSON: Yes.
[After several seconds of silence]
STEELE: What happened then?
DAWSON: I . . . changed. I disobeyed orders, sought out Robles’ wife, and consumed her as well. I now possess the sum knowledge of both their lives. I experienced their commitment and passion, and I saw that we -- those led by Moreby, I mean -- will ultimately fail. We can only increase our numbers by destroying lives, and we can only create by building on what others have done. We are a people destined to slowly decay and fade out.
WARD: General, do you know if there’s any truth to Moreby’s claim that NZO scientists have developed synthetic human meat?
DAWSON [laughs]: I know they haven’t. Look, the only reason his tech guys were able to come up with better helmets for zombie troops was that it was a process one of them had designed before he died. I guarantee that none of them are capable of creating anything as new as fake human flesh. It’s a lie.
STEELE: Let’s go back to what happened after you consumed Hector and Alejandra Robles . . .
DAWSON: The Robles had two children, Maribel and Maximiliano. I made it my mission to find them and protect them.
STEELE: That’s Maximiliano you arrived with?
DAWSON: Yes. Maribel was already gone when I reached them.
STEELE: Why were you coming to Washington?
DAWSON: Because I have both inside knowledge about Moreby’s operations, and considerable skill as a military expert, something I think you’ve needed since you lost Ames Parker. No offense, Mr. Ward.
WARD: None taken.
STEELE: General Dawson, you’ll understand if I tell you that we will need considerable proof of your intention to aid us, and even then we will proceed with extreme caution.
DAWSON: Of course, Director. I expect no less.
STEELE: Is there anything you can tell us right now, sir?
DAWSON: I was turned as the result of a direct bite from Moreby, just as your Vice President Delancy was . . .
WARD [interrupting]: How do you know about Delancy? We haven’t gone public with that.
DAWSON: Those of us who were infected by Moreby himself are reborn with a sort of direct mental connection to Moreby.
STEELE: Are you telling me you share Moreby’s mind in some way?
DAWSON: Yes, although . . . it’s hard to explain. We’re like . . . I think you might call it a hive mind. Those of us turned by Moreby or turned by Moreby’s original victims -- the intelligent zombies, in other words -- have both our own thoughts and general, overwhelming directives. If Moreby wants us to perform some task for him, we all work together to do it.
STEELE: Although you can also apparently deny the instructions.
DAWSON: Yes, but . . . most don’t. It’s always easier to go with the rest of the tribe, isn’t it?
STEELE: If you know about Delancy, what else do you know?
DAWSON: We know where human forces are mobilizing. We know how well armed they are and what their numbers are. We know your Government is in tatters and hidden in a complex beneath Washington. And we know of the occult nature of that complex.
STEELE: “Occult nature”?
DAWSON: Yes. You do know of Benjamin Henry Latrobe, one of the original architects, don’t you?
[A few seconds of silence]
DAWSON: My apologies. Even Moreby thought you’d discovered that already.
STEELE: Discovered what exactly?
DAWSON: That the complex housing you was always intended to serve as Moreby’s American center. Latrobe was Moreby’s acolyte, and designed much of the underground system working from detailed plans they created together when Latrobe studied with Moreby in London. Later, Latrobe adjusted the plans on-site, to accommodate certain geological features of Washington. Unfortunately for Moreby, when Latrobe disappeared soon after construction was completed, he took the final plans with him.
STEELE: So Moreby knows about the underground facility, but not exact details like how to get into it?
DAWSON: Correct. He knows the ground-level entrances are located somewhere on this base, but he knows neither their exact locations nor how to access them.
STEELE: Why hasn’t he attacked Bolling, then?
DAWSON: Oh, he will, Director. He just plans on attacking it in a way that leaves those entrances undamaged and open to him.