First novel

Day One



Franks Residence

Amarillo, Texas 2:31 am.



Some of the dead were laying in the grass while the other bodies were spread out along side the road. It was dark and deadly scene. The electricity was the other casualty. It went out the same time the lifeless bodies fell to their demise.

Officer Pike was the first to arrive on scene with his field trainee, Officer Lowe. "Oh my.."

"Okay, Lowe. This ain't gonna be fun," warned Pike as he switched to the high beams.

A pair of legs laying in front of a small tricked out Honda was the first sign that this night was going to be one for the books. Just beyond the legs was a full body laying face down with a small stream of blood still flowing.

"Lowe, whatever caused this still might be out there. Get the shotgun and clear the scene. I'll check for survivors and get a body count."

Pike gently closed the car door and started gliding over to the first body. He tried to use the moonlight instead of his flashlight, just incase the killer was still on scene. He motioned over to Lowe and signaled for him to due the same. On his knees, he crawled up to the young boy's head and checked for a pulse and breath sounds. Feeling neither, he crawled another three feet to the next victim. After the fourth lifeless body that he checked, he quietly advised Dispatch to send more EMS units.

Lowe was starting to feel overwhelmed as he walked past several bodies. His paced picked up and his heart stopped beating momen-tarily when he thought he saw something move by the white pickup truck. He squinted his eyes and reached behind his back for his flashlight. He had to sacrifice the twelve gauge for the light. Lowe slowly bent over and blindly laid the gun on the grass. Just before he released it, a hand reached out and grabbed a hold of his arm. Lowe let out a dog like yelp and leaped backwards in complete fear as he drew his .40 caliber and flashlight.

Training took complete control of his body as he pointed the weapon at the body and yelled, "Let me see your hands!"

Pike ran towards the beam of light with weapon drawn as he struggled to retrieve his own flashlight. "Lowe, don't shoot. She's a victim." He knew this because he could see at least three others to right of Lowe. They were all squirming around on the wet grass but not saying a word. Zombies, was his first thought and by the look of Lowe's terrified expression he wasn't the only one thinking that.

The two of them finished clearing the scene just as EMS and backup arrived. The final count from the Medical Examiner was Fifteen dead. The other four were rushed to the hospital.



Cowboy Records

Amarillo, Texas 5:28 a.m.



"Jim wake up. Jim."

"Okay, okay. Enough already."

"Did you finish it?"

"What? Finish what?" he said while messaging his forehead.

"Very funny. Where is it? I want to hear it."

Jim slowly rolled off the leather sofa and stumbled over to a desk in what looked like a lobby of some sort for some kind of business. He grabbed a small sign near the front of the desk that read, "Cowboy Records-Executive Producer Jim Long".

"Jim Long?" he questioned aloud. "Cowboy Records?"

He pressed his eyes in with his fingers and pinched his nose. He slowly opened his eyes hoping somehow that it would help him remember where in the world he was and who this attractive women was that was still staring at him.



St. Anthony Baptist Hospital

Amarillo, Texas 5:31 a.m.



"He's not answering. That's four times now."

"Try again. He needs to be hear for this." yelled one of the nurses.



Nelson Residence

Amarillo, Texas 5:32 a.m.



Doctor Nelson was holding the phone in his hand but could not bring himself to answer it. He couldn't figure out why a hospital would be calling him so many times and he was still trying to remember why he would have saved that number in his contacts. He was also trying to remember when bought such an expensive looking phone. The thought of someone paying so much for a phone used to drive him crazy. It rang again.

"Hello, who is this?"

"Doctor Nelson, you said you were coming in two hours ago. Is everything alright?" pleaded the young nurse.

"I'm sorry, did you say Doctor?"



Day Two



White House

Washington D.C. 7:59 a.m.



"Mr. President, your brother, I mean Senator Davidson is running a few minutes late. He says traffic is heavy."

"Thats fine. Tell the rest of them that I am running late as well. Tell them that breakfast went a little long or that I got another phone call. Let me know when he gets here."

Legs were crossed and recrossed. Warm coffee was sent back for hot coffee. Fresh copies of USA Today were handed out by the president's secretary in attempts to satisfy the impatient visitors. The Oval Office was taken over by the weekly Security Meeting participants. Two congress men, the CIA and Homeland Security directors, and three military Generals were part of the usual crowd. One of the two congress men that were invited was Senator Tim Davidson of Texas, who was also the older brother of the President.

Their relationship was like that of no other political family. Some critics of the politically successful duo were convinced that a Republican President and Democratic Senator could in no way be blood. Others were determined to prove that both of them were really Independents who were using their, "reaching across the isle routine," for mere political gain and as a fast track to the Presidency. The fact was that President Hunt had one of the quickest rides to the Presidency in modern history. That is of course with aid of his ten year older brother bringing in much of the Independent vote in every election he every had. In public, President Hunt attributed his success to his well rounded and pragmatic message for America while in reality he would be forever indebted to his brother, the Democratic Senator from Texas.

Davidson met President Hunt in the hallway just in front of the President's room. He brushed away the dandruff and straightened his silky blue tie. Always wanting to look enact for the President, even if it was his kid brother. The two walked briskly down the hallway.

"Late breakfast again?" said Davidson.

"Yeah, you know those white house cooks. Always forgetting something."

"I highly doubt that. Anyways, thanks again. I can never leave early enough for these meetings."

He lightly grabbed the presidents forearm. "Before we go in, I need to make you aware of some reports we are getting from Texas."

The President froze. His eyes glared ahead refusing to turn to his brother. "Where in Texas, exactly? And please tell me this is not related to him."

"Well I don't know just yet Henry. It doesn't sound like its connected to him but there is already a team of FBI agents in route to Amarillo."

"Then you better send your men down there and pray that they figure out what's going on before the agents do. I don't need this now. The country doesn't need this now."



Hilton Hotel Room 1009

Amarillo, Texas 10:31 a.m.



"I'm sorry, I was going to call you at the airport but I couldn't find my luggage at first and then I forgot. But I'm here now and I'm fine. Let me get settled and I'll call you just before lunch. Okay. And I said I was sorry. Okay, I love you. Bye. I'm sorry. Bye."

John tossed the newly purchased iPhone on the stiff comforter and it bounced like a basketball landing on the ground after ricocheting off the wooden end table.

"Why not," he pouted. "This trips going great already."

He collapsed backwards on the bed. Being too tired to roll over and reach down for his phone he managed to squirm his way over to the remote. The set was left on channel 2 were he began watching the local news coverage of the incident. Expect these weren't the local guys. Fox News had already brought in some of the more recognizable faces. John quickly scanned a few more channels to see how many more were running the story. They all were. From the personal briefing that he received from the Director to the chaotic scenes the television was showing, John knew that he would not make it back in time for his wife's birthday in two days. Nevertheless, he was committed to the job and he was good at it. Once the tires hit the pavement, John was like an investigative machine. Always outlasting and out working his team and following every lead like it was the only one they had. For this reason and his cunning problem solving ability, John easily progressed through the ranks and career of a Special Agent. So much in fact that they managed to mold a new position for him and the ones to follow like him. His newly created position of Special Agent Investigator in Charge gave him the ability to hand pick a team for any assignment, although he almost always stuck to the same squad.

His phone violently vibrated on the ground. He rolled over and decided it was time to get to work. Before he could even pick up the phone, Hal barged in.

"If you don't stop hacking my locks and walking in, I mean what if I was just coming out of the shower or taking care of a really important itch?"

"Well I've seen both so I'm not worried. You been watching the news? I think we were fed some bad apples during the briefing. I'm talking rotten. I mean this thing is out of control. Much worse than I anticipated," Hal said.

He searched for the remote but John slipped it into his pant's pocket in a subtle but cruel way to get back at Hal for decoding the hotel door locking system.

Behind Hal followed Sarah and Robert. The rest of the hand picked team. They quickly put together a make shift command post composing of six laptops, two 32 inch flat screen televisions, and about five to six other pieces of luggage full of surveillance gear and other toys that Hal insisted on having come along. This was always done in John's room because John always had the one-up room. The team made this decision one night on a previous assignment when John was at dinner and he had not been able to convince them to reconsider since.

"Okay guys, and girl, let's start from the beginning. First known report is from a small college party. Fifteen dead. Witnesses say they can't remember a thing. Just down the road from that location, two other homes were wiped out. Four dead and five dead. Men, women, and children. So thats twenty four confirmed dead. Now the next part is where is gets real interesting."

"Oh, since when is twenty four unsolved deaths not interesting?" Sarah jokingly protested.

"Point taken, but listen to this. 911 has been flooded with hundreds of strange but similar calls."

"Okay, you have our attention, enough with the dramatic pause," demanded Robert. "What are they calling about?"

"It's not so much what as much as it is who they are calling about."

"Who then? shouted Hal.

"Themselves," John whispered, as if he was telling a ghost story to a bunch of six year olds.

"What? You had it building pretty well until that. Why are they calling about themselves?" questioned Sarah.

"That's just it. They don't know anything."

"Anybody else confused. I am. Can't we just investigate the people that crocked. Why does this job have to always get weird?" asked Hal.

"Will you just listen to me. I listened to some of these 911 tapes on the flight over and it almost sounds like these people are experiencing some form of memory loss. They don't know their name, how they got to where ever they are or even who the other people are in their home."

All four of them slowly sat back in their slightly uncomfortable chair. After about ten seconds of silent thought, theories began to fly. Everything from some kind of new chemical agent or nerve gas to some form of telepathy that some evil doer was using to control the minds of the weak. The latter was proposed by Hal and was harshly rejected by the others.

John stood up and started pacing around the room, careful not to trip over the tightly wound bundles of wires that powered the hotel command post.

"Oh yeah, I forgot about the power outages. There have been a limited but significant amount of power outages reported. I want to see how they correlate to the 911 calls and deaths. Let's grab an early lunch and meet back here."

Robert quickly claimed the first assignment. Sarah was quick to follow with offering to find a large map of Amarillo so they could start working with some visuals. Hal vowed to find the remote.

"It's gotta be around here somewhere," John said as he walked into the bathroom.



White House

Washington D.C. 10:45 a.m.



The Senator finished the call with his wife and pulled out a second cell phone from his brief case. He powered it on and called the only number in the contacts. It rang several times. He ended the call and tried again. His pressed the call button harder as if it would ensure that someone would pick up. Someone did. It was a deep and distorted sounding voice. The voice answered with a simple "yes".

"You're leaving in five hours. All seven of you." advised the Senator.

"Not a problem." replied the disguised voice.

President Hunt walked up behind him. "What did you think about General Stanley's proposal?" he asked curiously.

The Senator flipped the phone shut and turned around.

"Anybody who makes public threats like the Katif do need to be dealt with. I agree that drone surveillance should start immediately. And if they even think about materializing any of their threats then we will bomb the living hell out of them."

"Easier said then done seeing how they purposely bunker down in villages with large civilian populations." protested the President. "But with that being said, I'm also not going to have any American casualties on our soil on my watch."

President Hunt placed his hand on his brothers back guiding him into the President's bedroom. The two sat down on the sparsely used sofas and both of them loosened their blue ties and released a coat button or two. "What do we know about Texas?"

Senator Davidson relayed the limited knowledge he had received. He described the deaths, the reports of missing people, the power outages, and the strange 911 calls. Like a true politician, he made a possible nightmare sound more like an unpleasant day dream. He convinced his kid brother that things would be taken care of promptly and assured him not to worry about a thing.

"Did you contact your team yet?"

"Just did. But I'm sure that Michael and his little 'bad boys' group is in no way involved."

"When are they getting there?"

"They'll be there this evening. Henry everything is under control."

"It sure doesn't feel like it. Tim!"



Hilton Hotel Room 1009

Amarillo, Texas



Sarah finished tacking the stiff map to the wall. Her fingers fumbled through a pile of colored thumb tacks. Red was designated for the deceased. Black was for reported power outages. Yellow was for any unexplained occurrence or 911 call. She was using a list that John obtained from his one-on-one briefing with his supervisor, Randal Cunner. Pages one through six listed all of the 911 calls that were related to the incident. It was not a very detailed list. Just phone numbers, names, addresses and the call signal. Sarah had to google the local dispatch signals and codes to under the meaning of each call. The six pages contained 303 different calls into the dispatch center. Out of the 303 911 calls, only 8 were omitted. Based on the signals that Sarah now understood, 295 were calls were considered related to the incident. Sarah soon realized that she should have bought more tacks.

Robert and Hal finished their deli sandwiches and grabbed a chair at the command post. Hal pulled his new government purchased Apple laptop closer to him and pulled up a google map of Amarillo, Texas.

"We already have a map."

"We do, but I like to have my own perspective. Street View is better than anything that our wonderful FBI has." Hal began to search the addresses one by one as Sarah continued stabbing the map.

"We leave in one hour guys. I want to have some sort of idea what we are looking at before we head out," ordered John.

"One hour? I thought we were heading out at five? It's going to be hard for us to get a grasp of what happened that quick, let alone any real leads, John." Robert argued.

John knew that he was pushing his team but he figured that earlier they got started then the earlier they could get back home. Hal was the only member of the team that knew John was going to retire in one month. John meant to tell the team before they left for the trip but they didn't have time to meet like they usually do. His goal was to give

Randal some solid leads and precise direction for the rest of the FBI to follow up on. Being with Camille at the reserved lake house was admittedly his primary objective for this week. Still, John was a honest employee of the federal government, he got paid well for what he did and he knew it. With that in mind, he gave himself a mental slap on the face and returned focus on the mission at hand.

He returned to the command post and took his position at the only high backed leather seat which he claimed was the captain's chair. So far the team had construed together a list of calls, a heavily creased map, and another online map. Not quite what he had pictured at this point. Most of the laptops weren't even turned on. The two flat screens broadcasted a blue screen. Determined to get things rolling, he hooked up the coaxial cable and splitters to give the televisions some life. He put each one on a local news station. In just a few hours, the police and media presence had tripled. John began to wonder if the local cops would have this thing figured out before his all-star team even made it out of the hotel's revolving doors.

He clapped his hands together and spun his chair around towards his group. "Okay guys, talk to me."

They gave him their eyes for a second's time, but that was it. Surely John didn't expect any progress at this point. Robert was the first to say something. "I have something."

"Great. What is it?

"I think we need another color of thumb tacks."

"And I thought you were being serious, Robert."

"I am. Use the purple ones for when a 911 call and a power outage are at the same location. Thus showing you the correlation you were asking for."

"Okay, I'll give you that one."

"I'm on it," Sarah responded.

John rubbed his scalp. He snickered to himself. They had this great mobile command post comprised of some of the best technology the FBI could give them and they were deciding what color tacks to use on the map that Sarah bought from the corner Texaco Gas station.

Sarah was either to close to the map or too busy tacking away to notice. Robert and Hal apparently noticed as they slowly walked towards Sarah. John followed Hal and Robert and quickly saw it as well. Sarah soon felt the warm breath of the three men breathing down her back and turned to them.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?"

Their faces glared right past Sarah.

"What do you think Rob? A bomb?"

"A bomb? Not sure. But it definitely looks like a blast radius."

Hal concurred with the slight nod of his head. "Definitely some sort of blast radius."

Sarah took a few steps back and soon saw the same image. It was not a perfect circle, but the tacks began to form a beautiful picture. They were already able to distinguish a possible detonation point. The possibility of the incident being simply a detonated bomb was somewhat unlikely but it was still something that they kept harping on.

John took control of the silence. "Look here, at what we'll call ground zero for now. All red with black extending further out." By the blank stares gazing his direction, John realized that they had not memorized the color coding system that Sarah had just initiated moments before. "Alright, plain english. We have dead bodies here with power outages extending further out. Beyond that we see the heavy influx of 911 calls protruding even further outward. Just like a bomb radius. At this point in time, I think we need to consider the possibility of a bomb or something that behaves like one."

The silence continued. Just nods were given. John took that as to say that everyone was in agreement. Robert walked up to the map and made a list of all the homes inside the black circle that he made with his permanent marker. "Lets start here. Inside the red tacks," proposed Robert.

"Sounds good. Let's go team."





Chapter 2





The Senator's group was en route to Amarillo via a commercial flight. They were part of a secrete private security company. The company itself didn't even have a name. When the members spoke of their employer they referred to it as the "Company." They never saw their employer in person. All communication was done by phone or by email. In fact, they didn't even know the their names or what they looked like. Most of them received a random call one day asking if they wanted to serve their country in an unorthodox but very rewarding fashion. However, it was not so random to them. All of them were discharged or released from their previous employer soon before the call. Some were from law enforcement. Others were from the military. Through the short and often time tense conversations that they had with each other, they each learned that they were cast aways, unwanted defects, bad cops and military "awols". Clashing personalities and confirmed mental issues kept this paid gang unconnected and unattached. Senator Davidson would have it no other way.

The leader of the group was a recently discharged Marine from Detroit, Michigan. He kept to himself for the most part, except when it came to barking orders. Duke never held a leadership role in the military. He enlisted a week after he turned eighteen. Drill Sergeants loved his animal-like-instincts but soon became aware of his short fuse. He broke two noses in bootcamp. Three more noses were cracked during advanced training. He was soon put under close watch but managed to avoid anymore scuffles until his first deployment. Once again, his superiors admired his tenacious appetite for war but they again had to constantly monitor his battlefield etiquette. Fellow soldiers believed his was quickly becoming a liability in a highly politicized war. After the complaint from a Core Man that he violated rules of engagement in a fatal shooting, his commanding officer was quick to reassign him to administrate duties back home. It only took one week before he made a sexual advance on a co-worker and was finally dismissed, permanently.

Duke turned his iPod back on and reclined his chair back the entire three inches that the coach seat would allow. While listening to a compilation of Slipknot, Korn, and other deep-throated-screamers, he decided that he should finally give his brief a glance or two. His was much more involved then John's. It listed all the members of the FBI team with attached photos with John being named the leader. They weren't the typical movie-style black and white zoomed in pictures. These still shots were straight from the FBI mainframe. Each face was about a year older than the photos but very still, very hard for anyone to obtain.

The first page read: "Go to 314 Armada St.. Advise the status of a subject named Jayden Pince. If Jayden is dead, determine probable cause of death. If alive, take into custody. Most importantly, find and destroy a document he calls 'Dark Secretes'. Gather any extra intel on the doings of his group."

Senator Davidson was also able to get the entire 911 call list that John's team had. He was also able to provide them with over twenty different police reports that were written the night before. These reports gave Duke's men a clearer picture of what had happened in Amarillo. He convinced himself that this was probably some type of terrorist attack. Maybe a bomb, but most likely some kind of chemical warfare, like a crop duster or something. Unconcerned with what happened, his job was to locate this Jayden character, rough him up a little, and burn some important papers. Satisfied with his simple three point mission, he turned up the Korn and closed his eyes.

__________________



President Hunt finished his cite-read speech about another proposal for an increase in the ever growing defense budget, and took a few softball questions from the media. Even amid a sixteen trillion dollar debt that was as secure as a runaway train, defense increases were still somewhat doable in the Senate. Strong National Security was his main talking point two years ago and he was determined to keep that promise, unlike the the one about dropping gas prices to three dollars by then end of his first year in office and the one other about cutting half of the Department of Education's budget. Nevertheless, President Hunt was viewed as a centrist who seemed to evenly frustrate both sides.

He exited the room amongst ongoing questions and grabbed a bottled water from a food cart in the hall. He took one long gulp and placed the plastic bottle on a lonely wooden table. The resolute desk had a dark blue folder with the Presidential Seal on it. Below the seal was a small finger print reader. He pressed an old fashion intercom button and an older women entered the Oval Office. "Where did this come from, Grace?"

"The CIA Director brought it to my desk and I placed it on yours. I told him you were in a press conference and that you would probably want to talk to him, but he insisted that he was too busy to wait."

"Yeah, I bet he was too busy for me."

Grace closed the door and Henry held his thumb for five seconds as the scanner approved his identity. Three small but sure pins slid into the cover releasing the folder's valuables. Inside was a page entitled, "The Katif." Stamped in red across the title was, "President Only." Below that read a small warning in size 4 font that listed the severe punishments for reading the following content. He rocked back in his chair and started reading.

"President Hunt. The CIA now has a strong

reason to believe that the self proclaimed terr-

orist group, the Katif, is sending over small

units of fighters to the United States. Upon

recent findings, we have discovered several

documents revealing information. I am asking

that you would enter your passcode and allow

my teams to attack potential enemy combatants

that they have targeted this very moment. The

next few pages will show our findings in detail."

For the next twenty minutes he scanned the rest of the painfully detailed document. This was not his ideal of way of communicating with the director, but he knew that it was Bill's preference. Still, he grabbed the landline and called him. "Bill, you have my permission but wasn't this brought up this morning?"

"I didn't have it this morning. It just came to my attention less than an hour ago. Sir, I still need you to input your passcode so my boys aiming down sight can receive the go-ahead to pull the trigger."

"Okay, its done. And next time, just wait ten minutes for me."

___________________________



John and Hal pulled the rented Durango to the revolving doors where Sarah and Robert loaded a few of Hal's equipment bags. They took a left onto the busy highway and were soon stopped in extreme traffic. John gave Hal a disgusted grimace blaming him for the selected route. Hal reached under his seat and pulled out a red and blue light bar and suctioned it to the windshield. Hal returned the look to John and flipped the switch. They shot into the right shoulder running over the road's left over rubber and other various automobile parts. After another half mile the shoulder was completely blocked as well. John dropped the typical government solid shiny black SUV into four wheel drive and without hesitating yanked the wheel to the right and roller-coastered down the steep green slope. To his surprise, the field led to a couple non-fenced backyards. He spotted an empty lot and plowed through it not realizing that a foundation had been laid. The fully loaded Dodge caught respectable air and landed harshly onto the stiff yard. He yanked the wheel back to the left and continued on the empty suburban road as nothing just happened.

The other three were just about to simultaneously chastise John for his stunt man driving style when he slammed on the brakes just before striking a fire truck that was blocking the road. Everybody's head, but Johns, jerked forward and Sarah let out an unbecoming explicative. Hal and Robert wanted to follow Sarah's lead but were taken back by the scene before them. There was no question where all the police, fire, and medical personnel in the city were. They all appeared to be in this one neighborhood. The entire community was outside their homes. Local anchormen were preying on anyone they could get their claws on. However, this wasn't your typical saturday bar-b-que get together. Nobody seemed to know anyone. Most people were just standing by themselves while the police were trying to encourage everyone to join a long line that led up to several tables.

John and his team cautiously exited the vehicle and quietly closed their doors. "I'll be right back," he whispered, as he walked to the front of the fire truck.

Hal opened one of the three bags that Robert loaded and grabbed a few things. Sarah retrieved her Tough Book Laptop and pulled up a map. As she waited for the green bars fill the empty line, Robert leaned over her shoulder. The unfocused map slowly became clearer with each bit of data loaded.

"Are we still that far from where the red pins where?" Robert asked in disbelief.

It looked as if they had another five miles until they reached ground zero. Hal walked to their side of the Durango. "No unusual readings from the air. That's a good thing. At least we won't have to bomb this town like Morgan Freeman would."

He pointed his laser reader at random targets as he spun around in place. He honed in on a green International truck and soon realized what he was looking at. "Guys. Look!"

They turned around and moved out of the way of the assembly line of National Guard trucks and hummers. They hardly slowed down as they blew their horns and motioned for pedestrians to get out of their way. The green machines drove through the crowds and continued north. They soon passed leaving everyone coughing. "I feel like we should be following them?" Hal questioned.

Through the settling diesel cloud, John was spotted jogging back while waving his hands-signaling for them to get in the vehicle. "We need to follow them."

The four agents jumped back in the Durango and quickly caught up to the military entourage before the sea of citizens poured back into the streets. Sarah pulled up the map on her computer. "I think they're heading towards ground zero."

John sped up and pulled in behind the last hummer. Hal switched the blue lights back on when the soldier riding the 50 caliber turned to six o'clock, cocked, and aimed at their engine block. John and Hal instinctively pressed their badges to the windshield. Sarah and Robert ducked-waiting for the large rounds to tear through their bodies. The next three seconds felt like an hour. The soldier gave a slight nod and spun the gun back around to twelve o'clock. "That could have been bad." Hal said, looking back at the two who where crawling back into their seats.

The trucks rode through front yards, back yards, and even managed to completely displace a fire hydrant - a spectacle that easily entertained Hal. The next two miles were similar to the last. Emergency vehicles lined the entrances to subdivisions. Red Cross tents were being erected. Residents were lined up behind tables. John pointed over to one line. "See those people in line? I believe they are being assigned a number, or some kind of identifier. Before the Guard drove through, I saw some Red Cross staff handing them out like they were about to run a marathon or something. They weren't even asking them their names... or anything at all, really."

The team just stared without replying to John's observation. They were collectively starting to comprehend the apocalyptic nature of what had taken place just two days prior. The hummer came to a sudden stop and John quickly braked and pulled around to the left. "We're here." John said as he opened his door.

"How do you know?" asked Robert.

"Because there's no one out here but cops."

The local police had already cleared the area hours after the incident was reported. John looked to the front of the line of trucks and saw the backside of a white Winnebago with a satellite dish on the roof. He advised his crew that he was heading to the command post and that he would be right back. Once again, they grabbed their equipment. Robert unfolded a small black table and they started to rebuild another mobile home base. Hal helped with the chairs and then caught up with John.

A small crowd of blue shirts and green shirts were shaking hands. A few were directed inside the command post while the others returned to their men. John knocked on the small side door just after it was shut. He showed his badge and the two were waved in. They met eyes with the Police Chief and some stiff suit who stood close beside him. "And you are?" demanded the Chief.

"I'm FBI Lead Investigator John Grimes and this is Investigator Hal Winters."

"We figured you guys would have been here a lot sooner. What about Homeland and the others."

"Just us so far. I don't think Washington has grasped the gravity of the situation here."

"And what is the situation here, Investigator?"

"Well, so far, it's seems to be more than some unexplained deaths. I'm hoping you can give me some more insight."

The Chief grabbed his seat along with everyone else who had claimed one. John and Hal continued standing.

"It's probably terrorist!" said the suit.

"We don't know that." the Chief sharply replied. "We don't really know what has happened. But we do believe that whatever it is...that it occurred or originated close to here."

An Amarillo Detective spoke up. "Just around the corner, fifteen people mysteriously dropped dead."

"Where are the bodies?"

"At the hospital....being examined."

"And the people wandering around the streets like Zombies? What's their deal?"

The suit decided to intervene again. "We believe they have suffered some type of memory loss. By the way. I'm Gregory Moore, from the Governor's Office."

"Okay. Mr. Moore. Why do you believe that? questioned John, having dealt with plenty of all knowing slicked hair suits before.

"Because they can't remember anything. Mr. Grimes."

John turned his attention back to the detective and Police Chief. "You said we are close to the initial incident. I need search warrants for all those homes and vehicles. Anybody still inside any of them?"

"Not one hundred percent sure. We advised everyone over the speakers to evacuate but that's it."

"So there's still a chance that there might be more people dead or injured inside these homes?"

Chief Garner leaned towards John. "Forget the warrants. Clear the homes and check for survivors. All of you."

The Governor's assistant attempted to get the chief's attention in protest but it was denied. "These are exigent circumstances. We can't wait around for search warrants from a Judge. I want the this entire area cleared. Every home, every basement, every car. Report back here when done."

Hal was waiting for John to explain to the chief that it was their scene now and they would be calling the shots. However, that never happened. They walked back to the group. "Um..we are the Federal Bureau of Investigation still, right?"

"Yes. I'll let him know that I'm taking over when we get back from searching the homes."

"What? You mean you want to help with the search?"

"Of course I do. We are at ground zero."

John stopped Hal from walking any further. "Hal, something is off here. The chief was right. Where is everyone else. Four FBI agents? For this?"

They continued to head back. "Get your toys. The sooner we crack this, the sooner we go home. Besides, Homeland should be here any minute."

_______________________