Belize

Chapter Thirteen

The plane touched down with a shudder and a loud squeal from the huge tires. Marco Cavaletta let his body shake in the seat, keeping his eyes forward, his standard-issue AR15 held upright between his legs. Seated in the row beside him were four members of his squad. Across the aisle sat five more, for ten men total. They all wore shaded green uniforms with black gear straps and black boots. A red and white octagon symbol was stitched on the shoulder of their uniform, with the letters UBCF beneath it. The Umbrella Biological Countermeasure Force.

Their squad commander, a German named Heinrich, leaned forward and adjusted the velcro straps on his black gloves. “We have two choppers waiting. When the doors open, exit the plane and immediately load up. I want us on site in five minutes.”

The members of Marco’s squad were from all over the world. Two were from China, two from Australia, and the others from South Africa, Iceland, Russia, the United States, and Germany. Marco was from Italy, although he hadn’t actually been to his birth country since he was sixteen. His squad had just been put together three months ago, and the men were still getting to know each other.

“Here we go,” Heinrich said.

Red lights flashed and the rear door of the cargo plane suddenly hummed open. Marco and the others unbuckled themselves and got up. Before the door had even lowered all the way to the ground, they were on their way out, hopping down the last foot or two to the sun-baked tarmac. Across the runway about a hundred yards distant were a pair of small black unadorned transport helicopters.

“Ahmed through Simon, take the first chopper. The rest with me in the other one,” Heinrich said. Even though he was German, he spoke English with a plain American-sounding accent. He was a decent commander and Marco liked his style. He didn’t snap at his men or make unnecessary demands and threats, he simply told them what to do and expected them to do it.

They loaded up into the helicopters and strapped in as they lifted into the air. The pilots didn’t speak to them and had probably been instructed not to. They were local agents hired out by Umbrella and a number of other companies to do this kind of work, and were paid well to keep quiet about anything they saw. Some of the other men in the squad spent the trip checking their gear and examining their guns to make sure everything was in order. Marco had done all of that on the plane. He just looked out the window and daydreamed. The view out the helicopter window was pretty impressive, he thought.

They had just finished a training operation in Haiti and were on their way to New York in America when the call came in and their flight was diverted to Belize instead. Marco had never even heard of the country before, but geography had never been his strong suit. A Level Two situation had taken place in one of Umbrella’s research labs. Marco had yet to deal with a Level Two. They happened about once or twice a year, or so he’d been told. Heinrich had been involved in at least one before he took command of their squad.

Level Two meant that containment had failed inside a facility and employees had been exposed to a biological, which in this case meant one of the highly-contagious viruses that Umbrella experimented with. Marco’s squad was the closest UBCF unit to Belize, so they were sent in to deal with the situation.

The helicopters swooped down like a pair of hawks toward a large complex in the middle of the city. There was a landing pad on the roof, but it could only hold one helicopter at a time. Heinrich was in the other transport, so it landed first and the men inside quickly jumped out. Then the helicopter Marco was in took its place and touched down on the landing pad. The door slid open and he stepped out with the others.

“All right!” Heinrich shouted to be heard about the spinning rotors. “Let’s move! Weapons ready!” He had one hand held over his ear, which carried an earpiece and small microphone that stuck out beside his cheek.

The elevator on the roof was designed to hold a large number of people along with a stretcher and other hospital equipment, so it was large enough for the entire squad to fit inside, although they were pressed up shoulder to shoulder. Heinrich pressed a button on the number panel and adjusted the microphone attached to his earpiece. “We’re in the lift, heading down,” he said to whoever was on the other end.

He turned his head and spoke to the squad as the elevator descended. “We can’t go directly to the facility from here,” he explained. “According to my briefing, this facility’s security protocols mandate a buffer zone. We will exit on the ground floor and move to the buffer zone, which is blocked off from the rest of the building. We will enter the buffer zone and close it behind us, and then enter the facility.”

The soldier next to Marco – Edwin, one of the Australians – silently made the sign of the cross on his chest and mouthed out a prayer. Some of the others had their own personal traditions or habits they did before a mission, but Marco did not. He had been raised Catholic, but he had little respect for religion anymore. He didn’t know how anyone could believe in God and do the kind of work they did. He could believe in the Devil, maybe, but not God.

Marco had joined the army right out of high school but only lasted a year before being dismissed. He hopped around Europe for a few years, working a variety of jobs. After a short stint in prison in Spain for drug possession, he joined a security outfit doing mercenary work in the Middle East. Once his contract there ran out, he had to look for work again. Umbrella was not his first choice, but they were hiring and offered a good salary, and they were in desperate need of men after losing the majority of their security forces during the incident in America six months before.

The elevator opened up and the men swarmed out, their boots stomping hard on the white tile floor. Heinrich led them to the left, where three nervous-looking hospital officials were waiting for them at the end of the hall. No one else was around.

“We’ve told everyone to stay away from this hallway,” a woman with gray hair said without introducing herself. She wore a dark blue business suit and clenched her hands tightly in front of her. “The local police are outside, cordoning off the area. We told them it was a bomb threat.”

“Good,” Heinrich said brusquely. “Do you have the system link?”

“Yes, it’s right here,” the woman said. She handed him a compact device like a very small laptop computer. Heinrich rolled up his sleeve and placed the device against his forearm. It had velcro on the bottom, which stuck to the black gear straps around his arm. He flipped it open to reveal a small screen and keypad. It was like a small personal computer on his wrist. Satisfied, he pulled his sleeve back down to cover it.

“Okay, we’re heading down now. I’ll keep in touch.”

The squad turned the corner and went down a set of stairs to a lower floor. At the very bottom of the stairs was a solid metal blast door. Marco marveled at the size of it. The door looked like it weighed five tons. At the side was a security card reader, which Heinrich jammed his card into. The reader blinked green and he pulled the card out.

“We have five seconds to get inside,” he announced. “Get ready.”

As the door rose up, Marco had the distinct feeling of entering a forbidden tomb of some kind, and almost expected a blast of dust as the ancient catacomb opened to reveal its treasures. Heinrich immediately ordered the squad inside, and they hurried under the door before it was even all the way up. Marco was one of the last ones through.

“Finally! Finally, you’re here!” someone called out.

“Hey!” came another voice. “Don’t point your guns at me!”

Marco had his rifle pressed against his shoulder, but aimed the weapon downwards. He looked left and right to scan his surroundings. Beyond the blast door was not a hidden tomb, but a wide hallway dimly lit with dark red emergency lights. Almost as soon as he had entered the hallway, the blast door hummed and dropped back down once more, hitting the floor with a thud.

A young man in a white lab coat ran up to them, his hands shaking in agitation. “Hey! Why did they close again? We’ve been trapped in here for over an hour! Open the doors so we can get out of this place!”

“No one’s leaving yet,” Heinrich said, stepping forward. “Please identify yourself.”

“I’m Antonio Williams. I work in the lab. You’re from Umbrella, right?”

“Yes. Give me an update.”

Antonio tried to brush past him. “How did you get the doors open? For God’s sake, you have to let us out of here!”

Heinrich pushed him back with one hand. “Those are not my orders,” he said in a calm voice. “Tell me exactly what’s going on.”

“Someone got infected!” Antonio blurted out, his voice breaking from the strain. “I don’t know how! We were trained to hit the emergency alarm if that ever happened! So I hit the alarm and took the elevator up here, but those doors are closed and I can’t leave!”

Heinrich nodded. “The doors will remain closed until we can verify that the situation has been properly handled and all individuals in the lab have been processed and decontaminated. Do you understand?”

“Why are you wasting time talking?” Antonio moaned. “You should be down there trying to stop anyone else from getting infected!”

“My orders are to maintain quarantine at all costs,” Heinrich said. “That means all individuals exposed to the outbreak incident must remain on site until they have been decontaminated. Do you understand?”

Antonio stared at him, uncomprehending. “What are you talking about?”

“This buffer zone is not intended as a quarantine area. We are going down into the facility and you are coming with us. You cannot remain here.”

Heinrich looked past Antonio to the other two people in the hallway, who stood a few yards away watching the squad suspiciously. One was a pretty young woman with reddish hair, wearing a nurse uniform. The other was a man in jeans and a black shirt, his arm covered in a big tattoo, and he stood with his body braced sideways as if he was about to throw a punch. The woman had her hand on his arm and by her posture, Marco got the impression that they knew each other.

“None of you can stay here,” Heinrich said. “You all have to come with us.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” the man replied.

The woman tried to silence him. “We weren’t in your stupid lab at all. I work here in the hospital. I was getting some supplies when the emergency doors closed. We haven’t been exposed to anything.”

“You were exposed to this man,” Heinrich said, pointing at Antonio. “I’m sorry, but quarantine must be maintained.” He raised his rifle and held it across his chest, as if showing it off to them. It was a subtle gesture, not exactly threatening, but it was impossible not to get the point. He didn’t point the gun at them, merely reminded them that could if he wanted to.

“Now,” he said. “Get in the lift. We’re all going down into the facility.”

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