by Julie Rowe
The reporter paused, leaned forward, and said directly into the camera, “The best way to stay safe is to stay home. This is Roger—”
“How did they get that information?” Carmen demanded of no one in particular.
Rawley hit the mute button. “Is it true?”
“We don’t know yet. We’re waiting for results.” She glared at the screen. “Who are these experts the news is quoting?”
Before he could say anything, everyone’s phones pinged.
Dozer checked his, along with Carmen and Rawley.
If the FAFO had publicity as one of their goals, they got it.
No shit.
Carmen’s phone rang. She answered it and straightened up almost immediately.
“Yes, sir… I’m aware, sir… I will, sir. Thank you.”
She hung up and looked at all three men. “That was the Surgeon General of the United States. He’s ordered me to bring the outbreak under control.”
“He’s aware viruses aren’t known for following orders, right?” Dozer asked, keeping his tone dry.
She looked at him, and the roll of her eyes told him she thought he was funny. Then she glanced at Rawley. “Looks like we’re going to get even more National Guard units. Prepare for incoming EMS.”
“Not by plane,” DS said, still staring at the muted screen.
“No, help is coming in by road. National Guard mobile health-care centers.” She stared off into space for a few moments, then met Rawley’s gaze. “I want you to coordinate the incoming units. They’re going to need space to set up and possibly access to utilities. Hospital staff need to be notified, and all our communications will need to be integrated. Until that’s done, things are going to be confusing, so see if you can find a half dozen people who can act as runners.”
“Why would we need runners?” Rawley asked, holding up his phone. “Isn’t this our primary form of communication?”
“Yes, but until we’re all on the same wavelength, we may need to pass messages the old-fashioned way.” She let out a breath. “Plus, I’m cautious. I don’t like relying on just one way to communicate. I want a Plan B. Can you handle all that?”
For a moment, Rawley didn’t move, didn’t react. Then, the import of what she’d just said, the amount of responsibility she’d just given him, sunk in. He stood up a little straighter, all the anger and hostility draining from his eyes and body. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Do it.”
He hurried away, calling to a couple of people in National Guard uniforms to come with him as he left the tent.
“If you can beat ’em, recruit ’em?” Dozer asked.
“Best way I know of to manage a micromanager is to give them a job with lots of moving parts.”
“What do you want me to do?” DS asked.
“Stay with us,” Carmen replied. “You’re my personal runner.”
He grunted. “Well, that’s a new one to add to my resume.”
She looked at Dozer. “Is there a way to find out who those experts the media quoted are?”
“The media doesn’t have to share that information, especially if they think the source will get into trouble,” Dozer said. “But I’ll ask a few questions just the same. Maybe it will help us figure out how information is getting to the wrong people.”
“I’ll keep my ears open as well,” DS added.
“Please do,” she told them both. “I’ve got to check in with my teams before I do anything else. We’ll need to create rotating work schedules based on a fluid workforce.” She gave them a grim smile. “This is the hardest part of trying to contain an outbreak. Isolating and caring for patients while praying the infection rate declines.” She looked around the tent. “Familiarize yourselves with everything, introduce yourselves to anyone you don’t know, and prepare to work long hours.”
“How long could we be here?” Dozer asked.
“I don’t know,” Carmen said, sounding tired already. “If we were dealing with an easier-to-contain disease, I might say days to weeks, but if this is measles—a virus that, once it’s gotten a foothold in an area, is difficult to wipe out—we could be here for a long time.”
Dozer winced. “Shit, the theme parks are going to act like large-scale incubators.”
“Children are the most susceptible,” Carmen said. “Making the FAFO all the more despicable.”
Chapter Sixteen
Tuesday, April 1, 4:30 a.m.
Carmen would love to get her hands around the neck of one of the people who started the outbreak. Oops, I accidentally strangled someone, but they were guilty of mass murder, so that’s okay, right?
She almost snorted out loud. Dozer might let her get away with that, but Rawley would happily handcuff her and throw her into lockup.
“They certainly have something against the CDC,” DS said. “I wonder if anyone has checked into any other threats made against the organization?”
“Homeland routinely investigates any hate mail or threats made against the CDC. Especially in the last year.”
“Maybe they need to look again,” the old man said. “When I have five minutes, I’m going to see what I can see and stick my nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“Don’t get it shot off,” Dozer said.
DS grinned at him and walked away.
John nodded at her. “Would you like a bottle of water or something to eat?”
“You’re not my personal valet,” she told him. “Go and do your own looking around.”
He didn’t even shift his weight. “I’ll wait until DS gets back.”
“I’ll be fine in here.”
“They’ve already bombed a hospital and the airport. I’m not taking any chances with your safety. You are the only reason I’m here.”
His face was set. She’d seen him look like that, usually when he’d taken a stand and refused to budge. Stubborn man.
“Fine, just don’t get in my way.”
The corners of his eyes gained crinkles, and he took a deliberate step back. It was an invitation to play—one she wished she could accept—but she could hoard the surge of happy bubbles in her blood. Save them to balance out the horror she was sure to come.
She sat down at a computer and began calling up the latest lab results and information on the outbreak.
The infection was spreading fast now, or rather, more and more people were reporting to hospitals with symptoms. Most had high fevers with the atypical rash she’d seen on several of the patients. Touching surfaces, coughing, or sneezing would be all it took to pass the virus around.
Airports were an even worse environment. The FAFO might have done everyone a favor by shutting Orlando down. Not that she would say that aloud.
It was going to get crowded at this hospital. Much too crowded.
7:12 a.m.
A bottle of water appeared between her and the computer screen.
Carmen blinked, sat back, and looked at the person who’d thrust the bottle in front of her. “What?”
“You’ve been working for three hours straight,” Dozer said with concern. He only talked that way when things were really bad. “You need to take a break,” he continued. “Drink some water and eat something.”
There was so much to do, new information coming in all the time, and people looking for that information, advice, and guidance, but he was right. If she ignored her personal needs, she’d lose focus and become a hindrance.
“Do we have a clean room set up for eating and resting?”
“We did, but the National Guard took it over and are using it as an isolation ward for immunosuppressed patients.”
“Ah.”
“There’s another room being set up, but it’s not ready. I’ve secured a rest area at the back of this tent.” He frowned at her. “Come on. Don’t just sit there. You need to get up and move around. Get the old blood pumping.”
“My blood is pumping just fine. In fact, I might need to check my blood pressure periodically.”
�
��Good idea,” Dozer said with a nod. “I’m sure someone around here is qualified to do that.” He looked behind her and jerked his chin.
DS was next to her a couple of seconds later. “What do you need?”
“Got anyone who can take her blood pressure?”
“Dozer, that was a joke.” She shrugged. “A small one, but still, a joke.”
“Have you eaten yet?” DS asked her.
“No,” Dozer replied before she could. “I’m making her take a break to do that right now.”
“Good,” DS said, approval smoothing out his normally rough voice. “I’ll go find someone. She can eat while I’m gone.”
They did know she was sitting right here between them, right?
“So the two of you appointed yourselves as my babysitters? Lovely.”
“Actually,” Dozer said, his gaze everywhere but on her face. “We’ve been tasked with taking care of you.” He hesitated a moment. “By the Director of the CDC and the Surgeon General.”
Anger flashed through her, and she opened her mouth to dress both men down. But Dozer’s expression—all but wincing—and body language—tense, as if preparing himself for an argument—stopped her.
DS had his arms crossed over his chest and his feet spread shoulder-width apart, like a pirate about to order an invasion of an enemy ship.
They both expected her to fight them, were prepared for it, but they were right. She did need to stop, eat, and move around.
“Is there some food in here?” she asked, getting to her feet. “Somewhere more comfortable to sit with a table?”
Dozer led the way—it wasn’t very far, fifteen feet or so—to a corner of the tent where some packing boxes had been stacked in such a way to provide both seating and table surface.
She removed her mask, washed her hands with sanitizer, then cracked open a bottle of water. Thirst made itself known as a scratchy sensation at the back of her throat as she drank it down.
That was stupid. She knew better than to let herself become dehydrated.
“Do you want sweet-and-sour chicken or beef stew?” Dozer asked her, holding up two military Meals, Ready-to-Eat—MREs.
“Chicken. It doesn’t taste quite as canned as the stew.”
“You’ve had both before?”
“Yeah, a couple of years ago when I was coordinating things for the latest Ebola outbreak.” She opened the sealed package of food. “It was the safest thing to eat. Anything else ran the risk of being contaminated.”
John sat down on a box across from her. “It’s a wonder you aren’t more paranoid than Rawley.”
“Be nice,” she said quietly, between bites.
He shook his head. “I don’t get the guy. He’s surly, suspicious, and hostile with everyone. It’s like he thinks he’s in enemy territory all the time.”
“He does run hot and cold.” She realized John was more than a little worried. “Why don’t you try talking to him? Or see if you have any friends in common?”
His eyes brightened. “That’s an excellent idea.” He pulled out his phone and began typing in a message.
Her food finally hot, Carmen took a bite and had to make herself swallow it. Even with sauce, the sweet-and-sour chicken wasn’t all that good.
John put his phone away and sat watching the doorway.
“Expecting someone?” she asked.
“Yeah. The National Guard was pretty much set up when I interrupted you. We should see someone from their command soon.”
He kept staring at the entrance, his hands grasping his knees. If he was trying to look calm, he wasn’t succeeding.
“John? What’s wrong?”
“I keep hearing your explanation of how contagious this virus is in my head.”
“We’ve been operating under the assumption of measles, but we could be wrong. It could be something new. Which would be worse.”
John’s face paled. “Fuck.”
Her phone buzzed. A message from the lab. “Preliminary results from Henry.” She read the results once, twice, three times, hoping the words would change, but they didn’t. She’d been expecting this news, but it still chilled her worse than any winter storm.
She glanced at John. “No more guessing. It’s measles.”
He stared at her. “Shit. What do we do?”
“I need to make an announcement. Please gather team leaders, Rawley, hospital staff, National Guard officers, and anyone in a leadership position and bring them to a secure area outside this tent. I want to talk to everyone at once.”
“You got it.” John stood. “Finish your food and drink all the water. Don’t move from this spot until I get back.”
She shook her head at his retreating back. Why did the man still think he could give her orders? When would he trust her to look after herself?
Her phone pinged, and she opened a more detailed report from Henry. Good. She’d be able to answer at least some of the questions asked.
“We’ve got everyone who can be spared ready for you,” John said as she scrolled through Henry’s report for the second time on her tablet. She’d put a new mask on as well as gloves and her safety glasses and was just waiting for him to come back. With a nod, she got to her feet, following him out of the tent and around behind it. The area wasn’t covered by canvas, but it was out of sight of the public.
She got straight to the point, telling them the virus was, indeed, measles, but that it was a variant strain. The lab was still working to identify the pathogen’s specific genetic markers, determine its origin, and suggest possible treatments. All they knew for certain was that it was just as contagious as the normal strains. They didn’t yet know if this bug was deadlier or not.
“Treat this virus as you would any other highly contagious and dangerous disease. We must make every effort to keep it contained.”
A hand rose from the middle of the pack of her audience. “Does the standard vaccine cover this variant?”
“Unknown. That’s a question I’ve asked the lab to focus on. As soon as I know, you’ll know.” She wished she could have given them good news rather than bad.
Rawley came over to her. “Can you give the press a statement?”
“I’ll have to confirm with the CDC director, but yes, we should do that. It’s in the public’s interest to know.”
The director agreed with a brief statement but stopped short of ordering a shelter in place. Instead, after making the measles announcement, she recommended people stay home or at least away from areas where lots of people gathered. If they did have to go out, they should wear surgical masks to help prevent the spread of the disease. That said, social isolation was the best preventative.
She took no questions but did promise to keep the public updated.
John was quiet as they returned to the command tent. Finally, just before they entered, he spoke. “What did you leave out?”
“How do you know I left anything out?” she asked just as quietly.
“I’ve been working with you for months. I’ve gotten to know how you talk and the patterns in your speech. You left out something important.”
“How many people suspect I didn’t tell them everything? Are we going to lose control of the public—”
He cut her off. “No. Only someone who’s spent significant time with you would have picked up on it. I didn’t see any suspicion on any other faces.”
“They’d see it on yours.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m supposed to be suspicious of everyone and everything. Quit avoiding my question.”
She rolled her eyes, then took in a deep breath and said, “Henry is ninety-nine percent sure the virus is manmade.”
John rocked back on his feet like she’d punched him in the face. “Oh, shit.”
“It brings up a number of uncomfortable questions. How did it get out? What was this virus designed to do? Does the current vaccine protect us against this particular measles virus? Can we produce a new vaccine in time for it to do any good?”
“Nothing about this outbreak is good news, only degrees of bad.”
John shook his head. “One of these days, if we’re not really lucky, we’re going to create a plague that will kill us.”
“Most people would argue we already have. It’s just a matter of opening Pandora’s box.”
“And some dumb fuck is going to open the damn box, because there’s always someone who can’t leave it alone.”
“Greed is one of the deadliest sins for a reason.”
“You ever think we deserve to be wiped out?” he asked, his tone serious. “Maybe we should just let the idiots kill us all and save the planet?”
She blinked, surprised. “What turned you into such a cynic?”
He stayed absolutely still for about three seconds, then said, “About an hour ago, I saw a man try to bribe one of the security guards into giving him a shot of whatever miracle drug we’d given ourselves. He waved a brick of cash at the guard.”
“What happened?”
“The guard told him there was no miracle drug and to get lost before someone mugged him for his stack.” He swallowed like he’d tasted something disgusting. “There are little kids half comatose on gurneys all over the place, and that asshole thought he could just buy his way to a cure.”
“There are always going to be both good men and evil. The stupid and the smart. Some of those people are willfully horrible human beings. It’s our nature. It isn’t rational, nor is it fair, but that’s the reality we live in.”
He didn’t say anything for another long while. “Are we going to beat this thing?”
If she wanted to stay unencumbered, keep him at arm’s length, she should give him the same answer she’d give to anyone else. Toe the party line. Instill confidence in her team and the CDC in general.
Instead, she gave him the truth. “I don’t know.”
He met her gaze and asked the silent question.
“Measles is one of the few diseases that has such a high rate of transmission that I don’t know if we’ll beat a more deadly form of it in time. The first measles vaccine became available in 1963. Measles was declared eliminated from the United States in 2000. It took almost forty years for us to eradicate it, but only because of high rates of vaccination in the general public. If this outbreak spreads, we might have to start all over, but we could be dealing with a more deadly version of the original. We’d also have to combat the anti-vaccination movement. Without the historically high rates of vaccine compliance…I don’t think we could stop it.”
