The Key to Fear - Kristin Cast Page 0,56

land surrounding Westfall would be the first thing up in flames.

The camera swung around to Chad Sandhar, reporting on scene, decked out in red gear. The thin paper face mask loosely hanging from his ears was streaked gray with soot, and tears carved clean tracks down his smudged cheeks. “What we’re seeing now, Vaughn, are our very own brave and dependable Key Corp soldiers torching the Zone Seven area behind me so no bacteria, viruses, or germs can develop and mutate or hop species, like the bird and swine flus that plagued our ancestors and led to the mutated Cerberus strain.” Chad waved the camera away as a bout of dry, hacking coughs overtook him.

The camera panned to the right and slowly zoomed in on flames licking nearby treetops.

“Vaughn,” Chad continued, a hoarseness clawing at his voice. “I’m out here in flame retardant gear issued by the corporation and specially made to withstand these conditions. And, I have to say, I am having a hard time maintaining my cool.” The view widened to again encompass the reporter as he brushed a gloved hand down the red Key Corp zip-up suit. “These soldiers, our soldiers, are out here protecting our community while wearing at least fifty pounds more than I am. I do not know how they’re able to handle it. It’s—” Another cough. “It’s mighty impressive. If you see one of these amazing people in the street, give them a big thank you. It’s the least we can do for what they’re doing to protect us.”

A crack splintered the smoke-filled air.

“Look out! Look out!” a soldier shouted over the flames as he ran up to the reporter.

The camera jerked as the soldier herded Chad and the cameraman to the safety.

The view went blurry for a moment before the camera stabilized and refocused on the flame-filled field behind them. The charred carcass of a two-story tall tree slammed to the ground, spraying fiery black bark into the air.

“I didn’t see—man, that—close.” Chad’s voice cut in and out as he adjusted his microphone. “Thank you.”

The camera expertly swooped back to the reporter as he regained his composure and turned his attention to the helmeted soldier. “What’s your name, soldier?”

“Major Owens.” He holstered his flame thrower and adjusted the straps of the large square pack hooked over his shoulders. “Rhett Owens,” the soldier said, looking past Chad at the line of flames behind them. The once brilliant red stripes streaking the arm of Owens’s uniform were now the same stale, muted red of dried blood.

Chad motioned to the faceless man. “Major, we’d be on our way to the MediCenter if it wasn’t for your quick action.”

“It’s my duty.” The helmet bobbed with a nod. “And I’m proud to serve Westfall and the Key.” Sweat streaked through the soot plastering his neck.

“Can you tell me what these duties mean to our community? Our citizens would love to hear firsthand.” Chad dragged a gloved hand across his own forehead before adjusting his facemask.

Rhett removed his helmet and secured it under his arm. “Leaving this zone and the lands beyond to grow wild would only result in another outbreak. We have all heard the term concrete jungle. Cerberus nearly eviscerated our species because of the wildness of the concrete jungle in cities like Westfall. This”—he lifted a gloved hand toward the ferocious flames burning brilliant orange and yellow and red behind him—“would be a true jungle where Cerberus and who knows what else would thrive and mutate. We are lucky enough to have great minds within the Key Corporation, who have recognized this threat and who send teams like mine all over the globe to ensure these wilds—concrete or nature made—will never get so far out of control that they again threaten us.” Rhett’s golden amber eyes bored into the camera. “We truly do have the Key to thank for our continued survival.”

Blair’s lips twisted into a satisfied smirk. “Well, well, Major Owens. Perhaps we should chat.” An assistant, even one as skilled as Maxine, could only help a woman like Blair reach a certain level of power. There were some things—so few Blair could count them on one hand—only a male protégé could provide. Like a spider, Blair had left many dried-up, shriveled husks of men in a trail behind her.

The “live” footage ended, seamlessly transitioning back to Vaughn in his light-drenched studio. “I don’t know about you,” the anchor said, “but I for one am supremely grateful for the Key and soldiers like Major