by Ralph Gibbs
“I’ll break open the door,” Wade whispered. “After I do, rush in and grab the kid, but don’t hurt him.”
It took two tries to smash open the door. Donavan rushed passed Wade and rounded the corner to the living room. There was a scream of surprise from Matthew and a scream of pain from Donavan. Wade came around the corner in time to see Donavan strike Matthew.
“Didn’t I say not to hurt the kid?”
“He bit me.”
“Then don’t put a body part near his mouth,” Wade said. Donavan looked like he wanted to say something but decided against it. “If you want to hit something, go across the street and beat on Ivory.”
Wade placed his hand firmly on Matthew’s shoulders, guided him to the couch and sat him down. Matthew wanted to struggle, but something in Wade’s cold stare warned him against it.
“We came over to check on you,” Wade said, sitting down next to the boy. “Are you okay?” Matthew hesitated but nodded. “That’s good.” He turned to the television program Matthew was watching. “Aren’t you a little young to be watching the news?”
“Everyone says that, but my mom lets me,” Matthew said, frightened. “She says my mind needs stimulating because I’m too damn smart for my age.”
“It’s never too early to learn just how cruel the world really is,” Wade said. “Did you see the reporter getting killed?”
“And the guy filming it,” Matthew added.
Wade sat back and watched television with Matthew for a few minutes. Donavan stood behind them looking lost. Wolf Blitzer, looking more disheveled than earlier, was displaying a map of the United States showing the infected areas in red. The map looked like a cell-phone coverage map.
“—Compounding the situation is that this is a virgin soil epidemic,” said a man identified at the bottom of the screen as Doctor Roundtree.
“Virgin soil, doctor?” Wolf Blitzer asked.
“It just means we’ve never been exposed to the disease and therefore haven’t built up the immunities needed to fight it,” the doctor said. “As a result, humans are more susceptible to the epidemic which explains why it’s spreading so fast and why it’s so deadly. A good example of a virgin soil epidemic would be when Native Americans encountered European diseases, and we know how that ended.”
“Are you saying we could be wiped out?” Wolf said.
“I doubt it. There have been a lot of advances in medicine since the 1600s. Probably one of the most important advances was the discovery of the virus. Now we’re more aware of how it spreads. If people practice safe sanitation, it will cut down on transmission. Something as simple as sneezing into your elbow and washing your hand will cut down on the spread of this virus.”
“You say this is a virgin soil epidemic, but the Athenian Plague, which most experts are calling this, has been seen before,” Wolf said.
“I’m not convinced this is the Athenian Plague,” Doctor Roundtree said. “But even if it is, that doesn’t change the virgin soil classification. It’s been over two thousand years since the Athenian Plague troubled the world, and while some immunities get passed from mother to child, any immunity to the Athenian Plague has long since been diluted to the point of ineffectiveness.”
“How do you account for reports that some people aren’t getting infected?”
“It’s not that they aren’t getting infected; it’s that their immune systems are strong enough to fight it off, sometimes before they show signs.”
“How long before your mother gets home?” Wade asked, turning down the volume.
Matthew looked at the clock. “She’ll be home at three-thirty.”
“Donavan, we have an hour,” Wade said without looking over his shoulder. “While we wait, go make us all a sandwich.” He turned to Matthew. “Where are the pills Danica gave you?”
“In the kitchen.”
“Bring me three pills and a glass of water with the sandwich.”
“The directions taped to the bottle say to take two,” Donavan said after finding the bottle on the counter.
“Yes, but if two’s good, three is probably better. You can take two if you want.”
Donavon and Matthew were still watching the news half an hour later when they heard a car pull into the driveway. Wade looked up at the clock. “It looks as if your mom’s home early,” he said.
Erica froze when she saw Wade sitting next to her son, a partially eaten sandwich resting on Matthew’s knee.
“Welcome home Erica,” Wade said. The sandwich fell to the floor when Matthew tried to get up and run to his mom, but Wade held onto his shoulder, holding him back.
“Why are you in my house?” Erica asked, looking around. “Where’s Danica?”
“Danica had to take Bailey to the hospital,” Wade said. “Donavan and I came—”
“Hi,” Donavan said, raising his spoon in greeting as cereal and milk dribbled from his mouth.
“—To make sure Matthew was okay,” Wade finished.
“Get away from my son and get out,” Erica said as she moved toward Matthew. She froze when Wade put a knife to Matthew’s throat.
“Don’t be like that,” Wade said. “Just take it easy, and everything will be okay.”
“Don’t . . . don’t hurt my son,” Erica said, suddenly terrified. “What do you want?”
“We got what we want, but we’ll need more,” Wade said.
“More of what?” Erica asked.
“We’ll talk about that later,” Wade said. “Right now, I want you to take a walk with me. Matthew will be fine here with Donavan.”
“Yeah, we’ll watch some more TV,” Donavan said.
“Don’t scream and don’t run,” Wade said. “If you do, Donavan will kill Matthew.”
“I won’t try anything,” Erica said, tearing up. As she and Wade made the short walk across the street, Erica was filled with a deep dread. Inside Wade’s house, she expected the place to be dark and gloomy, but it was bright, cheery and looked like her grandparents’ house at Christmas, minus the tree. The only hint that something was wrong was the broken table in the entryway. As the pair reached the top of the stairs, Erica could hear whimpering. She tried to prepare herself for what she was about to see, instinctively knowing it would be bad. But nothing could have readied her for the scene laid out before her. She went weak in the knees and nearly passed out.
“Stay with me,” Wade said, holding her up.
Although Wade and Ivory kept mostly to themselves, Erica had run into his wife occasionally. She may have been portly, but there was always an underlying beauty to her. This person was unrecognizable. The entirety of her body was battered, bloody and swollen, but her face was the worst. Her lips were cut and split in several places, and most of her front teeth were missing. Her eyes and half her face looked to be one giant bruise. Her face was so swollen it squeezed her eyes shut. Her body looked as if it were covered in bite marks and both her nipples were missing. Erica turned and threw up.
“You can’t leave her like this,” Erica said pleading when she recovered. “She’s not breathing right. She’ll die.”
“Yes, she is,” Wade said, pulling out his knife. Ivory whimpered. “And you will watch because I want you to know what’ll happen to Matthew if you try anything stupid.”
“No,” Erica said, moving forward without thinking.
“Stop,” Wade commanded, pointing the knife at her face. “Stop, or Matthew’s next. You stand there and watch. Do not turn your head.”
He slowly sank the long blade into Ivory’s chest, just below her sternum. Ivory let out a muffled, hysterical scream.
“Please stop,” Erica said, starting to cry. “Please. Please. Please. I’ll do whatever you want. Just please stop.”
Wade cut through Ivory’s chest and stomach like he was cutting through a frozen sausage roll, moving downwards slowly and methodically. When he reached Ivory’s naval, the screams stopped. Her head flopped to the side, and Erica knew her suffering was over. When he pulled
out the knife from her body, her stomach collapsed outward, spilling its contents over the bed, and floor. She looked like a gutted fish. Erica thought she was done throwing up. She was wrong.
When they returned to Erica’s house, she was still visibly shaken and pale.
“Everything go okay?” Donavan asked as he chewed an apple.
“Everything is fine,” Wade said smoothly. “Erica understands her situation now. Go next door and get the chains off Ivory. We can’t have Erica running off during the night.”
“What about my needs?” Donavan said.
“Erica will see to whatever needs you have . . . after you get the chains,” Wade said. “Won’t you, Erica?” When Erica said nothing, Wade gently took hold of her elbow. “Won’t you, Erica?”
“Just don’t hurt my son,” Erica said, whimpering.
Donavan’s smile widened.
“Nothing will happen to Matthew as long as you’re cooperative and friendly,” Wade said. He turned to Donavan. “There is just one stipulation. I don’t care what you do, but you are not to bruise her anywhere that can be seen, and she needs to be able to walk.”
“Fine,” Donavan said, sounding disappointed.
Wade leaned in close to Erica. “I know the first time will be traumatic,” he said softly in her ear. “By the third or fourth time, you should be over it. By tomorrow, I want you to pretend to like whatever he does. Who knows, maybe you will. If you’re into rough sex, you most certainly will. Either way, I want you to encourage him. Tell him he’s big, or he’s a good lover or whatever it is you women say to stroke a man’s ego during sex to help them climax. I don’t want to be bothered with him anymore.” Erica began to cry, but her tears only seemed to excite Donavan. As she watched, she could see an erection growing in his pants.
“You’re a monster,” she hissed.
“No, I’m a psychopath, though I understand your confusion.”
CHAPTER 12
The Charlotte Medical Center was a series of white ten-story hospital complexes interconnected into what looked like a jigsaw puzzle from the air. The unique configuration allowed for several interior parks where patients could escape the sterilized confines of the buildings. Doctors believed natural-looking parks would lift patients’ spirits, thus provide a boost to the healing process. If nothing else, it offered a small amount of comfort to the terminally ill. The hospital, one of the largest in the state and a level-one trauma center, had a thousand-bed capacity and nearly three times that number in office spaces. As such, it needed half a dozen multi-level parking garages. It was the largest parking deck, which had the unfortunate distinction to be shaped like an elongated tombstone, which interested Danica the most. She had agreed to meet her father on the road outside the parking deck where it intersected with a second garage, but that was proving impossible.
The two garages formed a natural barrier insulating the hospital from the surrounding neighborhoods. The police, both state and local, along with members of the CDC and FEMA, were taking full advantage of the natural barrier by setting up a checkpoint. As she passed, several dozen people were trying to gain access.
She sent her father a text. When there was no reply, she drove slowly down the street outside the parking garage. Nervous she would be discovered and get her father fired, she tried to act as if she were just another state trooper. As she drove by the checkpoint, several of the local and state police nodded in greeting. Before clearing the barricade, she spotted an officer she recognized.
When he looked up and nodded, it was not only a greeting but an acknowledgment of who she was. She started to slow down, but he covertly shook his head. The trooper who had come to their house to eat on more than one occasion raised a hand to his heart and pretended to scratch his chest. As he did, he extended his index finger pointing down the road. He scratched his chin and turned back to watching the people trying to gain access to the hospital. No one was being turned away.
Milky plastic sheets covered the insides of the parking deck, so it now looked like a plastic house. It was hard to tell, but inside it looked like the garage was a makeshift dormitory. How long would it be before it served as a morgue? Shapes moved on the other side of the plastic as vague shadows. When she reached the end of the garage, she turned around. At the leading edge of the parking deck, her father stepped out from behind a row of hedges. She slammed on the breaks and started to get out, but he waved her to remain inside.
She rolled down the window. “Dad, are you all right? You don’t look so good.”
“I’m okay honey, just a little tired. It’s been a long day. How’s your brother?”
“I’m okay,” Bailey said, sitting up. “I just feel like throwing up.”
“We’ll take you inside and fix you up, good as new,” Arnold said, opening the squad car’s rear door.
“Dad, I’m sorry,” Danica said, tears suddenly welling up.
“It’s not your fault Bailey’s sick.”
“No. I’m sorry about last night.”
“Oh hey, kiddo, I’m the one sorry,” her father said, earnestly. “I was just blindsided is all, and I over-reacted. I think you’ll make one hell of an astronaut.”
“How’s Mom?”
“Still on her feet and sends her love. She wanted to come out and see you, but we were worried it would draw too much attention. The CDC is running this place like a concentration camp.”
“That’s not a nice way to look at it,” a new voice said. Danica and her father looked over to see a CDC agent flanked by two local officers, hands near their holsters. The officers wore surgical masks.
“We’re not NAZIs,” the CDC official said. “We’re just trying to keep people safe and stem the tide of the pandemic.”
With the car providing partial cover, her father slowly reached up and unsnapped his gun holster.
“Dad, no,” she whispered.
“So, what are you two up to out here?” the agent asked.
“One of the state troopers I work with brought my son,” Arnold said. “The babysitter left him alone when he started coughing.”
The man came around and saw Bailey standing next to his father.
“It’s okay,” the official said to his escort. “I’m sorry about that. We’re getting reports from other hospitals that people are stealing antibiotics. A few officers were caught stealing in Mississippi. When they were confronted, they killed the CDC officer and ran off.”
“Jesus,” Danica said. “I hope they catch the bastards.”
“Not likely,” he said. “They were a couple of local boys, and we’re the CDC.” His tone turned to that of a mock southern accent. “We’re part of the federal gov’ment, don’t ya know.” He shook his head in disbelief. “There are even a few reports that contend the CDC is FEMA in disguise trying to put people in concentration camps.”
“People are idiots,” Arnold said.
“Don’t I know it,” the official said. “You mind if I take a quick look at your boy?” Bailey hugged his father’s leg. The man knelt and pulled out a tongue depressor from his pocket. “It’s okay, young man. I promise I won’t hurt you. If I do, I have a feeling your father will shoot me between the eyes. What’s your name?”
“Bailey,” Bailey said timidly.
“As in Champ Bailey?” the official asked.
“No,” Bailey said. “Bailey Justice.”
“Justice? Well, that seems like a good law-abiding name,” the official said. “Bailey, I’m Stewart Longfellow.” He shook Bailey’s hand.
“That’s a funny name,” Bailey said.
“Bailey,” Danica chided.
“It’s okay,” Stewart said, looking at Danica suspiciously. “It is a funny name, but a distinguished name as well. My family claims the poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow as one of our distant cousins. Not sure how true that is, but with a name like Longfellow, you take what you can get. Bailey, stick out your tongue and say ah. Nice and loud. All right, now breathe in my face.” Bailey complied.
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“Whew,” Stewart said, waving his hand in front of his face. “Have you been chewing on a cat’s butt because it smells like you’ve been chewing on a cat’s butt?”
“No,” Bailey said, laughing.
“Let’s get them inside,” Steward said, facing Arnold. “I’m afraid he’s infected.” Bailey hugged his father’s leg harder.
“It’s okay Champ,” Stewart said. “Just like your father said, we’ll get you inside and all fixed up. Ma’am, I’m afraid you’ll need to come inside with me, as well.”
“She’s not going anywhere,” Arnold said. “The world’s falling to shit, and she’s needed on the streets.”
“She’s been exposed,” Stewart said. “She needs to come inside.”
“Do you really think one more infected roaming the street will matter?” Arnold said. “She doesn’t have any symptoms, so she might not be infected, but if she stays here, she will be. Just like the rest of us.” The rise in tension put the two escorts on edge.
“All right, lets all just remain calm,” a new voice said. It was her father’s trooper friend. “You boys keep your weapons in their holsters. I’d hate for there to be an accidental shooting.” He turned to Arnold. “I saw our young CDC official leave and followed him. Good thing I did. It looked like a case of lead poisoning was about to break out.”
“Danica, you need to go, now,” her father said.
“But, Dad—"
“I thought I saw a family resemblance,” Stewart said.
“No, buts,” Arnold said. “Go to Aunt Caroline’s house and stay there. I’ve called her, and she knows you’re on the way.”
“Dad, be honest with me,” Danica said. “Are you going to be okay?”
“I don’t know. I’ve yet to see anyone recover, but the doctors say there is roughly a ten percent chance. Your mom and I have been exposed, and we’re both showing the first symptoms. If either of us survives, we’ll find you.”
“I don’t want to leave—”
“Go,” her father ordered as he reached in and put his hand on her shoulder. She covered his hand with hers, looked at him silently for a moment, and then pulled away and headed for home. She was never going to her aunt’s house. Her father had just said that to throw off Stewart in case he tried to go after her. If they really wanted to find her, she figured they had the resources to do so, but she doubted the man cared.
