Raging Storm Page 21

  The red granite building rose above them. Max glanced up when he heard the snap of the flags in the breeze. Though it wasn’t quite dark, a solar-powered light had come on and illuminated the stars and stripes of the American flag as well as the single star of the Texas flag. Max felt a swelling of patriotism as he passed underneath them. He’d never actually believed that his country and his state might be vulnerable to attack from inside or outside sources. He’d never considered the possibility that his country and his state might not exist for the next generation.

  Bhatti led them midway up the steps of the capitol building, where he took a seat and gestured for them to do the same.

  Shelby began to pull out her notebook, but Bhatti shook his head once. “Sorry, Shelby. This is off the record, at least for the time being.”

  She shrugged as if it made no difference to her, but Max was willing to bet she’d be jotting down everything Bhatti said—she’d simply wait until he was out of sight. There was still such a thing as freedom of the press, wasn’t there? Or had that gone the way of microwave ovens and Wi-Fi?

  Looking out, Max was astounded at the size of the operation that had taken over the capitol grounds. He could barely find a patch of grass that wasn’t covered with tents, supplies, or troops.

  The capitol building was guarded as well, but Bhatti flashed something and the men snapped to attention, eyes straight ahead, and returned to their post. Patrick, Bianca, and Shelby sat in a semicircle around Bhatti. From their vantage point they had an excellent view of the compound to the north. Max settled himself on the step, and then he turned his attention to the top of the wire fence at the boundary of the compound.

  “How long has the fence been there?” Max asked.

  “It went up an hour before the flare.”

  “Before…” Bianca jerked her head around to stare at him, but Patrick was way ahead of anyone else.

  “You’re part of an advance team.”

  “I am.”

  “Can you tell us what your objective was?”

  “I can, because you know much of it and with time would guess the rest. NASA warned the federal government of the impending CME and its subsequent effects twelve hours before the flare hit. They knew that it would be bigger than anything we had experienced in modern history, and they suspected what the effects would be. There was a protocol in place for such a thing, which varied slightly from state to state.”

  Shelby turned sideways on the step, so she was facing him. “It affected the entire nation?”

  “The entire world.”

  “Do we have communication with the federal government?” Max asked.

  “No. We lost that at the same time everything else went out.”

  “Why were you in Abney?” Bianca asked. “Are you even a real doctor?”

  “I am a doctor—board certified in emergency medicine, not an otolaryngologist as you thought. Attended military medical school in Bethesda and was then commissioned to the Air Force. Spent most of my time at Lackland in San Antonio, though I did a few stints in the Middle East. I worked in the ER at Brooke Army Medical Center. We had hoped by changing minute details to my personal history that my presence in your town would sound slightly less suspicious.”

  “Because any ER doctors would have reported immediately to their local hospital.” Max leaned forward and studied Bhatti. How many clues had he missed? He had been so focused on saving Shelby and Carter and Abney that he hadn’t paid enough attention to the things, the people, right in front of his eyes.

  “Correct. Who needs an ear, nose and throat specialist during a national emergency? They attempted to keep our cover stories as close to the actual truth as possible.”

  “What about your parents in New York? Your grandparents in Pakistan?” Shelby’s tone was angry. She’d never liked being duped, and this time was no exception. Max knew she considered herself to be a good judge of people, someone who watched closely and missed little. And she had harbored suspicions of Bhatti from the beginning, only they’d been of a different kind.

  “My mother was from Pakistan, my father from England, and my parents did indeed live in New York. They were killed in the 9-11 attacks. My grandparents—who lived in Karachi—died years ago.” He waited, giving them time to absorb the information.

  “Why are you telling us all of this?” Bianca asked.

  He shrugged. “Perhaps it is good to have someone know the truth about you. Perhaps, after the three weeks we’ve spent battling for our lives, I feel I owe you that much.”

  “What did you hope to accomplish by coming to Abney?” Max asked. “In fact, why Abney? We’re not large enough to matter to anyone.”

  “One of Governor Reed’s primary concerns was an anticipated lack of communication. She wanted to keep abreast of what was going on throughout the state, and she wanted those reports to come from people she trusted. She is the one who conceived Operation Nightshade.”

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Operation Nightshade?” Shelby lost her irritation, fascinated by the details of Bhatti’s life. Her fingers actually itched for a keyboard or her notebook and pen. Oh, the story she could write…but now they were living the story instead of reading about it. She forced herself to focus all of her attention on Bhatti, to commit what he was saying to memory just in case she decided to jot down some notes later.

  “Sounds like the title of a novel.”

  “The purpose of the operation was to deploy professionals in occupations that could be useful in a time of emergency—doctors, nurses, engineers, agricultural specialists, veterinarians—the list was quite extensive. Two hundred and fifty-four individuals in all.”

  “One for each county.” Max nodded in approval.

  She supposed the plan made sense, but for every question Bhatti answered, three more rose in Shelby’s mind to take its place.

  “Yes. Though it would seem that some counties would need more than one. The point wasn’t only to provide help. Dallas County has many of those individuals who would and did step into the gap. What Governor Reed needed was eyes and ears on the ground.”

  “How did you report back?” Bianca asked.

  “I didn’t until today. We were to stay in our assigned county for ten to twenty-one days and then find our way back to the capitol.”

  “So it wasn’t Mayor Perkins’s idea for you to come along?” Max held up a hand. “Wait. You’re going to tell me that she thought it was her idea. You played her, like you played me that first night at the Star Hotel.”

  Instead of being offended, Bhatti smiled. “I will ask your forgiveness for that, Max, but it was necessary that I not seem too eager to help.”

  “You did help, though.” Bianca ran a finger over her lips. “You helped the patients at the nursing home as well as the refugees from Croghan. You got your hands dirty with the blood and injuries of the people in our town, and you seemed to care about what you were doing.”

  “But he was also pragmatic,” Max said. “Think about the time that we had the car rush through the blockades, when Carter was standing guard with Mrs. Plumley. Bhatti showed up and reminded us that it would do no good to try and save the man who had been shot.”

  “Emergency medicine has never been an easy profession, even with modern technology at our disposal. Without it? We understood the decisions we would have to make.”

  “So you decided to let him die?” Shelby felt her emotions swing back toward accusation. She wanted to like the man, wanted to appreciate what he’d done for them, but she didn’t know if she could. Jiggling her knee, she turned toward him and squinted into the last of the setting sun.

  “I understood there was nothing I could do to keep him alive. There’s a difference.”

  “Max let you live in his house. We accepted you into our town, and you were living a lie the entire time.”

  “I was completing my mission.”

  “What did you bury in Max’s yard?”

  Bhatti actually laughed. “My identificat
ion tags. I shouldn’t have brought them, and indeed I left all other forms of my true identification back at my officer’s quarters in San Antonio. But old habits die hard, I suppose, and I didn’t realize I was still wearing them until that first night I stayed at Max’s.”

  “Which is when you went out and buried them,” Max said.

  Bhatti nodded.

  “What if we’d dug them up?” Shelby asked.

  “I don’t know. I would have thought of something. My goal was not to trick you, Shelby, and I’m sorry if you feel hurt by my actions. I was fulfilling the mission given to me by Governor Reed, and I will continue to do so.”

  “Is Farhan Bhatti even your real name?”

  “It is not. My name is Gabe Thompson.”

  Patrick was the first to lean forward and offer his hand. They shook, and Patrick said, “Nice to meet you, Gabe.”

  “You seem the least surprised.”

  “The way you handled the rifle? How you responded quickly and logically under pressure? I knew you weren’t merely a doctor, but I wasn’t sure exactly what to make of that. So I waited and watched. Eventually I became convinced you were military or retired military.”

  “Takes one to know one.”

  “You never told me your suspicions,” Max said.

  “What could we have done about it? Nothing. And you seemed to trust him.” Patrick turned back to Gabe. “When I was convinced you meant us no harm, I considered it a perk to have another military guy along.”

  “So the government knew we were about to be plunged into darkness.” Shelby shook her head in disgust. “They had twelve hours to prepare, but they didn’t warn anyone.”

  “Some argued that we should send out an emergency alert, but every single study done on modern catastrophes—whether they were natural or man-made—every single study projected massive casualties caused by panic among the civilian population.”

  “We could have unplugged things. We could have saved things that were fried by the flare.”

  “And what would you have plugged them into after the flare? We knew the grid would fail and do so quickly. We had twelve hours. It wasn’t as if we could store up more food or make more medication.”

  Shelby winced at the mention of medical supplies. “You’ve made your report already?”

  “I have.”

  “Did you report everything?” Max asked.

  “Nearly.” Gabe let his gaze travel over each of them, but stopped when he reached Max. “I did not mention the Remnant.”

  “Why?”

  “While I trust Governor Reed, she isn’t the only one who will see that report.”

  “So there are people here you don’t trust.”

  Shelby thought he wouldn’t answer, but he propped his elbows on his knees, pressed his palms together in a prayerlike posture, and lowered his voice. “This situation is still volatile. The governor’s staff seems to have the upper hand at the moment, but it’s uncertain whether state and federal officials can come to an agreement.”

  “About what?” Patrick asked.

  “Everything. Mind you, there are formidable forces within the state as well. Should things go bad…” He held up a hand to stop Shelby’s question. “Should the situation deteriorate even further, then groups like the Remnant may be critical.”

  “So what now?” Shelby asked. “You stay here and we leave? What about the supplies we came for?”

  “That is up to the governor.” Gabe glanced at his watch. “And you’re scheduled to meet with her in ten minutes, so we should go.”

  FORTY-EIGHT

  Shelby had been in the capitol building before. Once on a field trip with Carter’s sixth grade class, and once when she was doing research on a novel set in the 1890s, just after the capitol building was completed. She shouldn’t have been surprised by the grandeur and majesty of the building.

  Maybe it was owing to all they’d endured on the trip into Austin, or the countless number of homeless people she’d seen, or the growing certainty that things would never be exactly as they were before. Whatever the reason, as she stepped into the main entrance of the south foyer, she felt her heart rate quicken.

  The building was majestically, splendidly ornate, like something from a dream, like something from the past.

  The floor was covered with designs that memorialized the Texas Revolution, the Mexican War, and the American Civil War. They were in a different kind of revolution, a different type of war now. What would those men think of the fence surrounding the capitol? She raised her eyes to the two statues, which depicted Sam Houston and Stephen F. Austin. Both were men who had cared about the land south of the Red River and about the people who chose to live there.

  They continued walking, passing through the rotunda.

  Bianca let out a long, low whistle.

  “You haven’t been here?” Shelby asked.

  “No. I always wanted to, but I never made the time.”

  “The portraits are of former governors and past presidents of the Republic of Texas.”

  “How high do they go?”

  “They line the walls all the way up to the fourth floor.”

  Each person in the group stopped when they reached the center of the room and automatically looked up, craning their necks, the wreckage of downtown Austin outside the doors temporarily forgotten.

  “How high is that?” Patrick asked.

  “More than two hundred feet,” Shelby answered.

  “Actually, it’s two hundred and sixty-six.” Max stepped closer, put his right hand on her shoulder, and with his left pointed toward the middle of the dome. “Look closely, and you’ll see the Texas star in the center.”

  “How do you know so much about this building?” She didn’t want to turn and look into Max’s eyes. It was enough to stand close to him, someone she knew she could trust with her life.

  “I was a UT student in prelaw, remember? This building was hallowed ground for us.”

  “We need to hurry,” Gabe reminded them, but he seemed to understand and appreciate their moment of nostalgia. He didn’t move until they’d all looked back down, at each other, and refocused on the task at hand.

  They made their way to the second floor of the east wing. A plaque on the wall declared the room they were entering to be the Senate Chamber. There were men and women seated at each of the thirty-one desks, but Shelby could tell that they weren’t senators. Many wore military uniforms, and some remained in plain clothes. She saw some tablets, like the nurse had used, but mostly people were looking at maps, shuffling through large stacks of paper, or conferring over white boards.

  Gabe stepped up to a soldier and explained they had a meeting with Governor Reed. “She’s in the lieutenant governor’s office.” So they made their way back out into the hall. The office wasn’t far.

  As they walked, it seemed to Shelby that their steps quickened, and each person found some hidden reserve of energy. This was it. This was their last chance to find what they’d come for. If the governor couldn’t, or wouldn’t, get it for them, Shelby didn’t know what they’d do. And why were they being called here? What did Governor Reed want from them?

  Gabe pulled the sheet of paper out of his pocket, the same one Shelby had seen him show the guard outside room number eight. He walked up to the MP stationed outside the lieutenant governor’s office and showed it to him. The military police officer studied the sheet, glanced up at them, and then he finally settled his gaze on Gabe.

  “We’ll let her know. Have a seat over there.” He pointed to benches directly across from the office.

  But their wait was short. To Shelby it seemed that she’d barely sat down when the MP strode over and said, “Follow me.”

  She wished they’d had a few more minutes. Time to question Gabe, to figure out among themselves what the governor wanted and how best to answer any questions. Instead of resting, they should have spent their time in room number eight working on their story. Only they didn’t have a story. All th
ey had was the truth of what had happened to them, what they’d seen, and why they were there. But should they tell it all? Even about the Remnant?

  Governor Elizabeth Reed was a short, round woman with white hair that fell to her shoulders. She was studying a map that had been pinned to a bulletin board, but she turned at the sound of their footsteps and smiled broadly.

  “I sent Gabe to Abney to assess and report back to me on conditions, and he returns with an entire group of witnesses.” She shook hands with each of them, pausing to hear their names and commit their faces to memory. Shelby had stopped following politics long ago. Though she tried to read up on each candidate and always voted in local, state, and national elections, she couldn’t remember many specifics about Elizabeth Reed. The woman had seemed to espouse the same goals and morals that most of rural Texas did. That was enough to win Shelby’s vote.

  “Great deer hunting in Abney, if I remember correctly.”

  “Yes, ma’am, only now folks are hunting for food instead of recreation,” Max said. “They’re hunting to keep their families alive.”

  Reed sat behind her desk, laced her fingers together, and looked directly at Max. “Tell me about that. I want to know how things really are, and what you’ve seen on your trip to the capitol.”

  Max gave the basic narrative, but Bianca and Patrick interrupted now and again to add details. Shelby pulled out her notebook, and when Max looked to confirm something, she checked what she’d written. Gabe remained silent, but then Shelby remembered he’d already given his report. What could they add to that? It was a testament to the governor’s thoroughness that she wanted to hear it again, that she wanted a complete picture of what things were like outside the compound.

  Finally, she stood and walked over to the map, gesturing for them to join her. “Show me exactly where you encountered Diego’s men.”

  Patrick picked up two pushpins from the tray and stuck them in the map. “From here to here, at least. And he may have gained more territory today.”