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The parking lots surrounding the Pentagon were packed. It looked like a shopping mall at Christmas time. Jason bypassed the rows of parked cars and pulled the van right up the curb and shut off the engine. The group from the White House threw back the door and climbed out from between the vinyl seats.
“Wow, this is not what I expected,” said the man with thick glasses.
“Do you think the military personnel are still in there?” asked the woman in the business suit.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Daniel said.
They walked up the concrete steps and approached a doorway. Slumped against the tinted glass door was a soldier in military fatigues. Jason bent down and checked for a pulse. The soldier was dead, but, fortunately for the group, his keycard opened the doors.
“Better hang on to that,” Daniel said as he held open the door for the rest of the group. “We might need it to open other doors.”
When Daniel walked in it took his eyes a minute to adjust to the low lighting. They were in a large common area with an information booth rising up in the middle of the empty room, much like a volcano rising from the sea. They made their way to the booth and retrieved a brochure that listed the various offices in the outer rings of the Pentagon.
“Should we split up?” asked the man in blue jeans.
“That’s why we brought the walkie-talkies,” Daniel said, holding his up. “Is everyone’s turned on and tuned to channel 18?” The group checked their radios and nodded. “Alright, well, odds are that the doors to the offices will be locked, so let’s stay together until we get to a place to start searching.”
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable being left alone in this place,” said the woman in the business suit.
“I’ll stay with you,” said the mustached man.
Daniel was astonished to see gratitude in the woman’s eyes. As they walked down the corridor, their shoes squeaked and clicked on the polished concrete flooring. When they finally came to an office that was marked official records, Daniel tried the door and found it locked again. Jason zipped his card through the lock and it popped open.
“Success again,” Daniel said, but his heart nearly skipped a beat when he looked into the room. Slumped in chairs and stretched out on the floor were bodies. This was a civilian run office, and the people were all wearing their professional, yet casual, khaki pants and button down shirts. The women seemed to have huddled together and died near one another. The men were spread out, and most of them had died over the work they had been doing.
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