Shock Treatment

by Geoffrey Lyon

  Shock Treatment

  A Nova Shock Thriller, Book 1

  Geoffrey Lyon

  Blue Roan Publishing

  Copyright © 2020 by Geoffrey Lyon

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2020

  Blue Roan Publishing

  11923 NE Sumner St

  Suite 586463

  Portland, Oregon, 97217

  USA

  www.glyonbooks.com

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Also by Geoffrey Lyon

  Chapter 1

  The Learjet 75 light aircraft banked sharply as it made its final approach to the small municipal airport. The left wing tipped to one side and then wavered, the aircraft trembling as it descended. Something was not right aboard the plane.

  “Captain?” Luci knocked twice on the door before sticking her head inside the cockpit. “There’s a problem.”

  “What’s up?” Captain Nathaniel Hawthorne pulled his headset down and turned back in his seat to look at her.

  “It’s the passengers, they’re feeling sick all of a sudden.”

  “Sick? All of them? How?”

  “Yes, everyone. I don’t know, their complaints just started a few minutes ago, one right after the other.”

  “Hm. What are their symptoms?”

  “Stomach cramps, nausea, fever. Some have headaches.”

  Captain Hawthorne furrowed his brow. In his twenty four years as a commercial pilot, he had never had a situation where all of his passengers were sick at the same time. Something was very wrong here. He was concerned.

  “We’ll get this plane on the ground as soon as we can, and get some medics to check them out,” he nodded to Luci, then turned back to his controls. Glancing at Henri, his novice co-pilot, he could see that Henri was feeling the pressure of the situation. Beads of sweat stood on Henri’s forehead as he stared ahead with a look of consternation on his face.

  “We’re going to take her down nice and easy,” Hawthorne instructed Henri in a calm and firm voice. Henri nodded in acknowledgement, but Hawthorne could see that his co-pilot was still very jittery.

  Hawthorne contacted the control tower. “We have a situation on board,” he informed them. “We have nine passengers all exhibiting various symptoms ranging from nausea to fever to headaches. Sudden onset. We will need medical personnel on the ground when we land. The cause is unknown. I repeat, the cause is unknown.”

  After a momentary delay, the control tower operator replied over the static, “Medical personnel are en route and will meet you on the tarmac.”

  Hawthorne was instructed to land on runway 1. Other small aircraft were re-routed so the Learjet would get priority to get on the ground first. Although there were no heavy aircraft landing at this airport, it was still one of the busiest in the nation.

  “Alright Henri,” said Hawthorne, “Here we go.”

  Luci looked on helplessly as one of the passengers vomited violently into a sick bag, then leaned back in her seat. She offered the sick bag to Luci. With a wince, Luci took the bag and promptly closed it. Holding it at an arms length, she walked to the back of the place and disposed of it in the garbage. The plane abruptly shifted trajectory and banked again, tipping her off balance for a moment. She put her hand up against the wall for support as she steadied herself. She knew that they were going in for the landing. Her seat folded down and it only took her a few seconds to get into it and strap on the seat-belt. She glanced down the aisle. All the passengers appeared to be very ill. There wasn’t one person who seemed to be okay.

  She wondered what had happened to suddenly bring about these symptoms. Was it something in the food? She had never seen any bout of food poisoning like this, though. And then the terrifying thought stuck her that it might be a viral infection. Her eyes grew wide with fear as she realized that she was breathing the same air as the passengers in this tiny cabin. She blinked a few times, trying to calm her breathing. The Captain and co-pilot were not exhibiting any symptoms, and neither was she. At least, not yet. She tried to stay calm, but she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t want to die. She hoped that they would be on the ground soon.

  Captain Hawthorne brought the Learjet 75 into a fast descent, much faster than he normally would have. This was not the most comfortable feeling, as evidenced by the strained look on Henri’s face, but it was very important that they land as quickly as possible. If anything was going to happen to any of the passengers, or if he or his co-pilot were going to start showing symptoms, he wanted it to happen after they were on the ground.

  They touched down on the runway amidst the screech and smoke of the plane’s tires. Hawthorne applied the brakes and then swung the plane around and taxied for a few moments. To his relief, there were two ambulances already parked on the runway not far from them, lights flashing and rear doors opened and ready to receive his passengers. EMT’s stood at the ready, while airport personnel ran towards the plane to open the cabin doors.

  Luci unclipped her seat belt and almost jumped out of her seat, running to the aid of one of the passengers. The man had fallen forward in his seat, the seat belt holding him in place and preventing him from falling to the floor. He appeared to be unconscious.

  “Sir!” Luci gently held his head in her hands, trying to wake him up, “Sir, can you hear me?”

  His face was hot, and bathed in sweat. He stirred, and then slowly opened his eyes. They were bloodshot. He tried to speak, but started coughing. He seemed disoriented. Luci ran back to fetch some water, and helped him take a few sips.

  “Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely. She touched his forehead.

  “You’re burning up,” she said, “we’re going to get you some help, okay.”

  He nodded.

  “I’m okay,” he said, “I’ll be okay.”

  “You sure will,” Luci reassured him, “Can you tell me your name?”

  “Daniel Chen,” he replied. He leaned back in his chair and took a few deep breaths. He seemed to be feeling better.

  Behind him, someone moaned in pain. Luci tended to the woman, before turning to the next passenger who needed assistance. They were all very weak. She helped them unbuckle their seat-belts, but advised them to stay in their seats until help arrived.

  While she was tending to the passengers, Henri came out of the cockpit and opened the main cabin door. Two EMT’s climbed up the steps and into the plane. Captain Hawthorne stepped out of the cockpit, surveyed the scene, and had a brief word with the EMT’s. They were wearing white surgical masks and gloves.

  “What do we have?” they asked Luci as they started taking down vital signs for each passenger.

  “Fever, mostly,” Luci replied, “headaches, abdominal pain, cramping, nausea, vomiting. I don’t know!”

  Luci was feeling desperate. Tears formed in her eyes. The EMT closest to her nodded and put his hand on her shoulder.

  “It’s alright,” he reassured her, “we’re here now. We got this.”

  She
looked into his eyes, steady and confident. His voice commanded a certain surety of purpose. She felt her emotions subside, and her usual calm and confidence returned. She nodded, smiled a little and then headed out of the airplane to give them room to work.

  The EMT’s led the passengers out of the plane one at a time into one of the waiting ambulances. Captain Hawthorne and Henri had deplaned and were on the tarmac, discussing the situation with the airport ground personnel.

  Daniel Chen managed to get himself up and out of his seat. He trailed behind the passenger being led out by the EMT. When his feet touched the tarmac, he pulled out his mobile phone and tapped on it to make a call. It rang twice, there was a brief pause, and then a female voice came on the line.

  “Daniel?”

  “Hi Miriam, it’s me,” he said quickly. “I wanted to let you know that I’m back.”

  “How was the trip?” Miriam sounded cheerful, happy to hear his voice.

  “I will tell you all about it,” he replied, “But first I have to tell you something, it’s very important—”

  Before he could complete his sentence, Daniel collapsed on the tarmac, the phone slipping out of his hand, still connected. Miriam was still on the line at the other end, “Hello? Daniel? Can you hear me? What did you want to tell me? What happened? Are you there? Are you okay? . . . Daniel?”

  The yellow caution tape marked the wide area that the local police had cordoned off around the Learjet 75 on the airport tarmac. Behind the tape, there was a flurry of activity. Forensics investigators, medical personnel, various law enforcement organizations, and airport authorities were all busy performing their respective tasks. Just outside the aircraft, next to the wheels, lying on the tarmac was the body of Daniel Chen. At least four men with masks and gloves were crouched over him, busy working.

  While the men were attending to Daniel, an old gray Buick screeched into the parking lot, stopping over the line in one of the narrow parking spots. Miriam stepped out of the vehicle. She was about five foot seven, slim and had a caramel complexion. She immediately ran across the parking lot towards the airfield. She got on the tarmac but when she reached the yellow caution tape, a uniformed officer stepped in front of her, blocking her way.

  “I’m sorry Ma’am,” he said with a practiced authority, “This area is under an active investigation and is not open to the public.”

  “I need to get through,” she said desperately, “My fiancee was on that plane! He called me when they landed. Oh my God is that him!?”

  She had caught sight of the crumpled body on the tarmac. She lurched forward, trying to evade the officer, but he was too quick for her. He easily caught her in a hug with his arms around her torso, while she struggled to get past him, arms flailing.

  “Let me go!” she cried, “That’s Daniel! Oh my God, that’s my fiancee!”

  “Ma’am,” he remained firm and kept his voice even and neutral, “I cannot let you through as there may be biological or chemical contamination in this area. We are still determining if it is safe. Please, Ma’am. As soon as we know it’s safe, you will be able to see him.”

  She stopped struggling and he let her go. She stared at him with daggers in her eyes, her breathing coming hard.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, genuinely. “If there is a contagion, we need to exercise precaution.”

  “Is he dead?” she asked mournfully, her eyes seeking out the prostrate form on the ground.

  The uniformed officer didn’t answer. He looked at the ground silently.

  Tears began rolling down her cheeks.

  “Daniel’s dead!?” she could barely get the words out. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her legs gave way, and she fell to her knees, sobbing. The officer helped her up and led her to the main building. There was a small waiting room there. A television in the corner was tuned to ESPN with the sound off. There were two round tables with four chairs each, and a soda vending machine by the back wall. The officer pulled a chair out for Miriam and she flopped down into it, her eyes staring ahead vacantly.

  “Someone from the FBI will come to speak with you,” said the officer gently. Miriam didn’t respond. “I am sorry for your loss.”

  It was a few minutes later when Special Agent Felicity Dawn entered the room, knocking lightly on the open door before entering. Miriam was still as a statue, staring at the floor without blinking.

  Special Agent Dawn was short and slim, with shoulder-length dirty blonde hair which she kept tied in a neat ponytail. Over her black slacks and white blouse, she was wearing a jacket with the words FBI in large yellow letters across the back. Her sidearm, a standard issue Glock 22, was holstered on her waist, and her badge was displayed prominently on her belt. She walked in slowly and took a seat next to Miriam.

  “My name is Felicity Dawn,” she said, introducing herself, “I am a special agent with the FBI. I am investigating this incident.”

  “Daniel’s dead,” Miriam whispered, barely audibly.

  “Yes,” Agent Dawn nodded, “I am sorry. Daniel passed away minutes after his flight landed. By the time we got here, he was already gone. I understand you were engaged to be married?”

  “In two months,” Miriam smiled in pain and sadness. She looked up at Dawn for the first time, her eyes brimming with tears. “What happened? Why did he die?”

  “We don’t know the cause of death, but we’re working to find out. Right now, we’re trying to determine any causal factors or whether it was some kind of infectious agent. We had to quarantine the aircraft as a precaution. Do you know of anything unusual or suspicious in relation to your fiancee? Did he have any enemies, or anyone who had threatened him in any way?”

  Miriam shook her head. “No, everyone who knew him loved him. He was just a great guy.”

  Dawn nodded. “I am sorry that you couldn’t see Daniel yet. Once they are certain that there is no risk of the spread of contagion, they will move his body to the morgue. We have contacted his family, and we’re hoping they will give their approval for conducting an autopsy. It would help us greatly in determining the cause of death.”

  Miriam stared the the floor while Dawn was speaking, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “What about the other passengers?” Miriam asked abruptly. “There were others on the plane, right? Did they see anything strange? Did anything happen to Daniel on the plane?”

  Dawn shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “There were eight other passengers on the the flight, yes,” she admitted, “and three crew members: a pilot, co-pilot and flight attendant. The crew appears to be alright. We have been talking with them and getting their statements.”

  “And the others?” Miriam asked, slightly puzzled by the seemingly diplomatic answer.

  Dawn sighed. “I cannot officially release this information, but it will be in the press within hours anyway. None of the passengers survived. They all died.”

  Miriam gasped. “What!?”

  “So this goes beyond just your fiancee. There is something else going on. This is a high-priority, active investigation now. I’m afraid I can’t tell you any more than that, but you should know that we’re doing everything we can to figure out what happened, and why.”

  Miriam nodded, wiping away her tears with her sleeve.

  One of the other uniformed officers appeared at the door. He hovered in silence, not wanting to appear inconsiderate of the situation. Dawn glanced at him and nodded, then rose from her seat.

  “If you need to contact me for any reason, or if you happen upon any information you want to share, you can reach me here,” she said as she handed Miriam her business card. Under the printed letters of her name, in handwritten blue ink was her mobile phone number. “Any time, day or night.”

  Miriam nodded and took the card. As Dawn left the room and walked with the uniformed security officer down the hallway, he began his report to her at a frenetic pace.

  Chapter 2

  It all felt like a dream to Miriam. Events were happening but she fe
lt disconnected from everything, as if she was in someone else’s body, or watching a movie about someone else. It was a strangely disconcerting feeling, but at the same time it also gave her the sense that she could somehow manage to get through the minutes and hours this way. If she had fully engaged her complete sense of self, she feared that might not even be able to function.

  She drove up to the dreary gray building in her old Buick and parked near the front door. The mortuary looked as depressing on the outside as she expected it to be on the inside. The drab colors, lack of landscaping and location near the light industrial district all gave the visitor a despondent and somber impression. Today, though, Miriam was in no mood to be cheerful.