Author: Brett Battles
Category: Thriller
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“Hey,” Emily said, holding out her hand.
Josie hesitated a moment, then shook it. “Hey.”
“My dad’s a good doctor,” Emily said. “If your dad can be fixed, he’ll fix him.”
“He can be fixed,” Josie said quickly.
“I’m sure he can. I was just saying—”
“I know what you were saying.”
After an awkward couple of seconds, Rachel donned a smile, and said to Emily and Kathy, “Who’s hungry?”
Josie grimaced as the other three walked into the alcove. She shouldn’t have snapped. Emily was only trying to be nice. Josie’s father would not have been happy with her.
With a sigh, she turned and walked over to the table where the women had just sat down. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was…well…”
Rachel touched Josie on the arm. “It’s okay. We all know you’re worried about your dad.” She patted the bench next to her. “I’m sure you could use something to eat. Why don’t you join us?”
“I’m fine.”
“At least have something to drink. Water?”
Josie had to admit she was thirsty, so she nodded and took the offered seat.
Raising her voice, Rachel said, “Bobbie?”
Bobbie, the Ranch’s cook, stuck her head out the kitchen door. “Morning, Rachel.”
“Morning. We have a couple of newcomers who could use some breakfast. This is Kathy Gardiner and her daughter, Emily.”
Bobbie smiled. “Ladies. You came in with the doctor?”
Kathy nodded. “My husband.”
“Welcome. It’s good to have you, and your husband. How do eggs, bacon, and some hash browns sound?”
“Good,” Kathy said. “Um, great, actually.”
“Scrambled? Fried?”
“Fried,” Kathy told her.
“Can I have mine sunny side up?” Emily asked.
“You can have them any way you want,” Bobbie said. “That’s what I’m here for.”
“Can you send out four bottles of water when you get a chance?” Rachel asked.
“Will do.” Bobbie disappeared back into the kitchen.
“Bobbie’s a great cook,” Rachel said. “You’re in for a treat.”
Kathy gave a halfhearted smile. It was clear she was still trying to process everything that had happened since Chloe took them from their home.
“How long have you lived here?” Emily asked Josie.
“I don’t. I mean, we don’t. My dad and my brother and me, we just visit sometimes.”
“Oh. Well, where are you from, then?”
That was a good question. Their last home had been in Iowa, but they weren’t there very long. Before that? “My dad was in the army. We traveled…”
Josie lost all train of thought as she spotted Matt and the doctor heading down the hallway toward the dining area.
She stared at them, unable to take another breath. She’d been desperately waiting for news about her father, but suddenly wasn’t sure she wanted to know what the doctor had to say. What if the news was bad? What if her father hadn’t made it? If the latter were the case, then every second she didn’t know was another second her father would still be alive in her mind.
Emily twisted around, following Josie’s gaze. As soon as she realized who was coming, she jumped out of her seat and ran to her father. Kathy was up a second later, following right behind her daughter. All three hugged as if they’d been separated for months.
“You’re okay?” the doctor asked. “Any problems?”
Kathy shook her head, and Emily said, “They’re making us breakfast.”
“Now that sounds like a great idea,” he said. As they turned toward the table, Matt whispered something to the man, and they both glanced at Josie. The doctor nodded and walked over to her. “You’re my patient’s daughter. Josie, right?”
Josie nodded, unable to speak.
“Then I guess you’re the one I need to talk to.”
This time her nod was so slight she almost didn’t move her head.
“As I’m sure you were aware, your dad was pretty banged up.”
This is it, she thought. This is the part when he tells me he couldn’t do anything. She braced herself.
“Shrapnel cut through part of his intestines and destroyed one of his kidneys.”
“Brad!” Kathy said. “She’s just a girl. You can’t tell her that.”
“She deserves to know,” he said, and looked at Josie again. “You want to know, right?”
Want? No. She didn’t want to know anything. But she had to know, so she nodded again.
“Also, one of his ribs punctured a lung.” The doctor paused. “But your dad is tough, a fighter. And thank God for the medical facility you have here. It’s top-notch. If he’d been anywhere else short of a fully equipped hospital, I doubt he would have made it.”
It took Josie a moment to process his words. “He…he’s okay?”
“He’s not okay. Not by a long shot. But he will be.”
She shot to her feet and threw her arms around him. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you.”
She gave him one last squeeze before sprinting out of the alcove and down the hall. When she reached the surgical room, she threw open the door and rushed in. But the room was unoccupied.
Of course he wouldn’t be here, she chastised herself. He’d be back in the room they had him in before.
She raced out the door and down the hall again. Before she reached the medical suite, she nearly ran into Chloe, running out of another corridor.
“I just heard,” Chloe said, falling in beside Josie. “He’s going to be okay.”
Josie glanced at her but made no reply, afraid that if she acknowledged it she might jinx everything and make it untrue. She needed to see her father first. She needed to see him alive and breathing.
They rushed through the open door of the medical suite, into the observation area. Behind the glass wall of patient room number one, they could see Lily in scrubs and a mask, checking the bag hanging from the IV stand. On the bed next to her lay Josie’s father, an oxygen tube running under his nose. Josie watched his chest move up and down, and sighed in relief.
“He looks good,” Chloe said.
She was right. He did look good, or at least better than before. There was color in his face now, and he seemed to be resting a lot more comfortably.
When Lily noticed them, she came out and pulled the mask off her face.
“He’s going to be okay?” Josie asked, wanting the confirmation from someone she knew.
“We’ll need a little more time before we know for sure.”
“But it’s looking good, right?”
Lily gave her a tired smile. “Yes. It’s looking good.”
Josie almost laughed as she hugged first Lily, then Chloe. “Can I go in and see him?”
“He’s still unconscious, and probably will be for another day at least.”
“I don’t care.”
Lily hesitated a second, then nodded. “Sure, but you need to wear a mask and gloves. And you have to scrub up first.” She pointed toward the sink attached to the wall, and glanced at Chloe. “I suppose you want to go in, too.”
“I’m fine out here,” Chloe said. “Just glad to know he’s going to live.”
“We all are.”
MATT WATCHED AS Josie raced away from the cafeteria, happy that the girl had finally received some good news.
“I really didn’t think he was going to make it,” Rachel said, moving up next to him.
He glanced at his sister. “Neither did I.”
“Any news on Brandon?”
He shook his head. “Christina’s been trying to get us a good satellite image of the area, but nothing useful yet.”
“He’s a smart kid, and his dad prepared him well. He’ll be okay.” She paused. “I received confirmation that the package arrived in Atlanta.”
“Good,” he said, though he knew it wouldn’t change anything. Still, they ha
d to try every angle they could. “I’m going to head over to the comm room.” He glanced at Dr. Gardiner and his family. “Do you mind staying with them? I’m sure they’re going to have a lot of questions.”
“Already been asking.”
The communications room was a quick walk down the hall. As it seemed to always be now, the room was buzzing with activity. For the first few days after the virus was released, they had monitored the growing disaster, hoping that somehow, someway it would fail. Of course it hadn’t.
As of that morning, Matt had ordered everyone to begin LIC—locate-inoculate-consolidate. Their task was to find pockets of uninfected survivors, get them vaccine, and bring everyone together before Project Eden could move in and eliminate them. The only ones excused from LIC were Christina and her small team. Their focus was on finding Brandon.
It was a massive undertaking, one destined to fail over and over again, but Matt knew they would have successes, too. That’s what they had to focus on.
It had been long assumed that radio would be the main way they’d find survivors, so the Resistance had computers placed around the world that were now automatically monitoring as many frequencies as possible for signals that might indicate survivors.
Kenji Yamabe, LIC’s project leader, had co-opted the largest monitor in the room to display a list of discovered survivor sites and their statuses.
“That’s it?” Matt asked. The list was woefully short, no more than three dozen locations.
“It’s still early,” Kenji said.
The Resistance had predicted that the first several days after the release of the virus would be quiet, as people who weren’t already infected hunkered down and did what they could to survive. At some point they would reach out for help. That’s when things would start getting really busy. Still, Matt didn’t have to like waiting for that point to be reached. He wanted their field teams to be actively distributing the vaccine now, not sitting around while more and more died.
It would have been great if they could have roamed the streets and inoculated everyone they saw, sick or not, but their supply of the vaccine derived from Daniel Ash’s immunity was limited. They couldn’t afford to waste a single dose on someone who was going to die of the flu anyway.
Matt stared at the screen.
Thirty-eight groups, representing a total of probably not more than a thousand people. Barely a drop in the ocean of humanity.
There will be more, he thought.
There has to be.
Eight
CENTERS FOR DISEASE CONTROL AND PREVENTION
ATLANTA, GEORGIA
2:38 PM EST
IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING THE president’s briefing the previous evening, Dr. Esposito had flown back to Atlanta and gone straight to his lab at the CDC, arriving shortly before one a.m.
As he’d requested, his whole team was waiting for him when he walked in. The first thing everyone wanted to know was why the president had said there would be a vaccine in no more than a year. Esposito let them voice their frustrations for a few minutes before holding up his hand to quiet them.
“The simple truth is that the vaccine will be done when it’s done,” he’d said.
“Then why didn’t he say that?” one of the technicians asked.
“To save lives.” He explained what the CDC director had told him, then said, “Our job is to create that vaccine as quickly as we can. If that takes more than a year, so be it. But the sooner we get it done, the more lives we save.”
“What if we don’t have a year?” another of his team members asked. “I mean, this thing is tearing through everyone. There might not even be anyone to vaccinate in a month, let alone a year.”
A few others raised their voices in agreement.
Esposito held up his hand again. “Yes, many people are going to die, but at some point it’s sure to level off. We’ve seen that before with other outbreaks. There will be plenty of people still around, people who will need our vaccine. We all have to believe that, otherwise there is no reason for us to even continue. If any of you are ready to give up, you need to leave now. We are at the front line of the fight for the very existence of our species, and it’s up to us to ensure that we win. I don’t need anyone on this team who isn’t one hundred percent dedicated to that. So, does anyone want out?” He scanned the faces in front of him, but no one said a word. “Good. Then we need to get to work. Speed is paramount. I’ve never said this before, but this time cut corners if you have to. Just get us to a solution.”
Despite the hour, they had all gone back to work. By the time morning arrived, a few had crawled off to catch a few hours of sleep, while most kept at the task of studying the virus’s genetic makeup and coming up with potential ways to kill it.
Around nine a.m., a package arrived for Dr. Esposito. It was a square box, about six inches on each side. There were no postage stamps or labels from one of the overnight delivery companies, only what had been printed on top—his name and address at the CDC, the name DEARING LABORATORIES in the spot for the return address, and URGENT printed across the bottom. He had never heard of Dearing before, and had no idea what was inside.
“How did this arrive?” he asked the woman who’d brought it in. With the curfew, getting any package was a surprise.
“I don’t know. Messenger, I guess. I wasn’t there when it came in,” she said, then left.
Esposito carried it over to his desk and set it down, intending to open it to see what was so urgent. But as he leaned over to grab his scissors, a drop of liquid hit the back of his hand. He jerked up in surprise, and felt another drop trickle onto his upper lip. He touched it. Mucus, draining from his right nostril.
He grabbed a tissue and wiped the discharge from his face, then said, “Everyone, stop what you’re doing.”
They all looked at him.
“How is everyone feeling?”
A few shrugs.
“Tired,” someone said.
“Yeah. Definitely,” another agreed.
“Anyone feel ill?” Esposito asked. “Like you have a cold, maybe?”
Surprise and concern spread across the faces of his team, no one missing the significance of the question.
“I feel okay,” Paige said. She was the one closest to him.
“Me, too,” Ralph added.
Others nodded and said words to the same effect.
Across the room, Carol Burton raised her hand. “I have a headache. Is that what you mean?”
Almost as one, everyone in the room turned toward her.
Esposito had a headache, too, but that wasn’t unusual when he was working on a difficult problem, so it hadn’t even registered until now. “Any other symptoms?”
She shook her head. “No.”
Maybe he was overreacting. He just hadn’t had any sleep, that’s all. Plus the flight to DC probably hadn’t helped. The air on planes was notoriously dry, so it would have been easy for his nose to become irritated.
He took in a breath to calm himself, but as the air passed into his lungs, he could feel the hint of a scratch in his throat. Without saying anything, he turned to his computer, brought up the security system for his lab, and entered the code activating a lockdown.
His lab was actually a series of connected rooms, some for delicate, hands-on work that required wearing special suits and passing through chambers designed to keep deadly bugs from escaping, and some, like the room they were now in, used for more theoretical work and not considered high risk. No virus or other harmful agent was ever present there, not on purpose, anyway. But the CDC was a cautious organization, and had built in the ability for Esposito’s entire lab complex to be sealed off from the rest of the building.
The thud was loud and unmistakable as the isolation locks on the exits engaged.
“What the hell?” Ralph said, looking toward the door.
A few of the others jumped up.
“Why did that lock?”
“What’s going on?”
&n
bsp; The light on Esposito’s phone started to blink. Security, no doubt, calling to find out what was going on.
“Everyone sit,” Esposito said, ignoring the phone for a moment. “I engaged the lockdown.”
“Why?” Ralph asked.
To answer, Esposito grabbed another tissue and blew his nose.
They all stared at him.
“That doesn’t mean you have it,” Ralph said.
“Let’s hope you’re right. But until we know for sure, those doors stay locked.”
“Jesus,” Tom Hauldon said.
“I want everyone to write down who you’ve been in contact with, so we can figure out how the virus might have gotten in here, and who outside needs to be quarantined.”
Someone pounded on the door, and looked through the small window centered in the top half. It was Wayne Kovacs, the CDC’s assistant director. He caught Esposito’s eyes and raised his hand so Esposito could see the cell phone he was holding.
Esposito looked back at his desk phone. The line that had been blinking cut off for two seconds, then started to blink again. The doctor picked up the receiver and punched the button.
3:17 PM EST
“IT’S POSITIVE,” MATTY said.
Esposito could almost see the hope drain from his colleagues’ faces. His own face, though, remained neutral, a part of him having accepted the fact he’d come down with SF-B.
“What about my test?” Carol asked.
Paige checked her results. “Also positive.”
Carol collapsed into her chair. “Oh, God.”
That seemed to be the trigger everyone was waiting for as panicked conversations broke out all over the room. Before Esposito could do anything about it, his phone rang.
He picked it up. “What?”
“The results?” Wayne Kovacs asked.
“Positive.”
“Just you or both?”
“Both.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Would it have been better if it were just me?”
“That’s not what I meant,” the assistant director said. “Michael, we can’t let you out of there.”
“Don’t you think I know that? Why do you think I locked us down?” He hung up.