by J. L. Wood
“I’ve also heard that people have been getting through on ham radios, which brings me to the food situation. Panicked Texans have been clearing store shelves. It’s already starting in the other states as well. Believe me when I say that if we do not offer up a true explanation of where this illness came from and how it spreads, all of the U.S. could be affected.”
“I thought only a set amount of locations were able to receive internet contact from Texas,” Amy replied, confused. “Wasn’t that the discussion with security so that we could stay up to date, but they couldn’t communicate, which would force them to stay put?”
Susan smirked. “People know how to get around it, and they have been. Have you seen the tabloids today? ‘Texas left to fend for themselves.’ We are not moving fast enough. You are not moving fast enough. Those people are going to revolt and break the quarantine if we don’t handle this delicately and quickly.”
Dr. Peery cleared his throat and held up a hand to grab everyone’s attention. “Susan…research takes time and proper data…none of which we have, so please, stick to your side of things and let Amy stick to hers. Now, about what Sean said earlier with the bacteria. What happens when all the subjects die? And what about the other countries? I have reports that their death counts are equal to ours. I’m sure they’ve arrived at Amy’s finding as well, or they will soon. Who says they won’t broadcast their findings?”
The room fell silent. Susan took a sip of water. “I can pry and see what I can find if Amy provides me some watered-down data to share that aligns with your bacteria cover-up. Then we can know where we stand with the other seven locations affected. Although I’m not entirely on board with this, I believe that if we put out our information first, hopefully that could settle a few things and put people at ease. We can push our citizens to believe our findings by involving media outlets to discredit any other information coming through.”
A majority of the board members around the table nodded, indicating it was time to wrap up the meeting. Richard sat up in his chair and grabbed his pen. “I have a scheduled call with the president after this meeting to review these findings, but first we need to call this infestation something—something not very intimidating. Something easily digestible to the public. We waited too long on this, and the media coined it the sugar flu. Now we have a bunch of simpletons scared of sugar.”
The room fell silent again while everyone thought of names for the sickness. Someone called out “reptile flu.” Richard shook his head. “Let’s not get the animals involved in this one. Also, the flu is a virus. Let’s stick to the story.”
Susan called out, “Bac 8. For the eight locations that broke out with the bacteria.”
“L8,” Sean said. “For Locations 8, building on what Susan said. Eight locations have it; that’s not intimidating. It’s reassuring. Only eight locations in the entire world, and they are being quarantined. If that doesn’t give the people hope, I don’t know what will.”
“That could also be read as ‘Late’,” Susan replied sarcastically.
Richard sighed. “That isn’t far-fetched. We are already too late for the majority of the children of Texas. We should lead with L8. Now, get your teams together, and for the comms, let’s spin it as children and the elderly can be affected. Everyone should wash their hands, boil their water. I need to make a phone call. And Amy, go home and pack a suitcase. We’re flying you to Greenwood Elementary tonight.”
Amy brightened at the announcement. It was what she had been requesting for days. She not only needed to be there; she wanted to be there, in the thick of it. This was the chance of a lifetime—her career was riding on it. She just hoped she would be able to deliver.
– 10 –
Surgery
Dr. Dressner slowly lowered herself onto the end of Ariel’s bed. “I’m exhausted. Can you do the recheck?” she asked Amber while dabbing the beads of sweat from her forehead with a handkerchief.
Nurse Amber nodded and knelt next to the cot, gently grasping Ariel’s pale, dainty wrist. “Her pulse has dropped,” she said after a few moments. She pulled a pen light from her pocket, pulled back one of Ariel’s eyelids, and shined the light directly into her pupil. There was still no response. “Unresponsive.”
Sherrie scribbled a few notes on her clipboard and let out a sigh. “Amber,” Sherrie whispered, keeping her voice low from the other parents. “We are going to have to act soon, or we may lose her. Have you seen her mother around?”
Amber stood up and looked around but was unable to find Mrs. James. Ariel’s cot was littered with trash, the remnants of a frantic mother. “No,” Amber replied. “But maybe I can follow the trail of empty wrappers to her.”
Sherrie let out a smile. Carefully, she scooted closer to the child and studied her face. “Hang in there, Disney Princess,” she whispered as she combed her fingers through the girl’s wet, matted red hair, spreading it out over the pillow in an effort to let it dry out. She then readjusted the ice pack under the girl’s neck. She had grown close to Ariel throughout the day, and the thought of losing her caused more pain than her condition. “Can you continue the checks?” Sherrie asked. “I need to start planning our next steps for Ariel.”
Amber nodded and grabbed the clipboard from the cot before hurrying away.
The once-quiet gymnasium was now a madhouse of whispers and cries. Parents and staff were losing hope, while Dr. Dressner was holding on to the little that she had. Soon it would float away, disappearing into thin air, if she did not gain control of the situation. Medical supplies were running low, their lot of Sim-Six nearly depleted. Some of the children fared better than others, but the majority was barely hanging on and would not last long once the supplies ran out.
Sherrie carefully stood up, her thin legs weak and on the verge of collapsing. She found Ms. Brackenridge through the crowd of concerned parents and called her over. One of Sherrie’s knees buckled, and Ms. Brackenridge caught her arm, easing her back down onto the cot.
“You need rest,” Ms. Brackenridge insisted, but Sherrie ignored her.
“I still haven’t received the drop-off time from the CDC. Earlier, they called my radio with an update and said the military would be dropping off some supplies for us later today. I don’t know what they are providing or when they are providing it… And to be frank, I don’t even know if they are still sending anything, since the radio’s been silent since then.
“Most of the children’s conditions are not improving, as I’m sure you can see. They are deteriorating quickly, and we are now on rations. The little starter pack the CDC dropped off this morning is already nearly depleted—and with the addition of the four extra little ones in the past hour, we are going to start having to make some decisions.”
Ms. Brackenridge clenched her fists and stared into the distance, avoiding eye contact with Sherrie. She looked around, ensuring their conversation was private. “Life-altering decisions?” she asked, her voice barely audible. “I don’t want to say it, but I have to. I talked to Nurse Amber. Some of the children are beyond saving, and if they were to stay here for another day, they would just consume the Insidia and Sim-Six that could save the healthier kids for days. Maybe we could just continue with the glucagon and see if that helps any. We have plenty.”
Sherrie stood wide-eyed in disbelief and slowly shook her head, but Ms. Brackenridge continued. “I am always regarded as the bearer of bad news, the evil principal, the witch, and today would top it off. I would become the bitch, the murderer, the woman who let a child die. That lady that withheld medications and picked favorites. But I have to speak up.” Her eyes started to tear up, and she blinked until she could focus again. “I can’t lose them all. I will not—”
“Ms. Brackenridge,” Sherrie interrupted, “I know you care deeply for these children, and that is a hard call to make. But it is not your call. And we are not there yet. Thankfully, some of the kids are improving. Let’s take the kids in the best condition and move them to a classroom f
or quiet time. We can reduce the medications they receive until, hopefully, we receive more.” Sherrie sifted through the papers on her chart. “Those kids are Lois, Timmy, Samuel, and Brendan. There’s a couple more, but I’d like to keep an eye on them for a little longer. We also need to hold off on accepting any more children.”
Ms. Brackenridge let out a sigh of relief. “Okay, I’ll prepare a classroom. Dr. Dressner, I’m relieved that you’re here. Hopefully those supplies will arrive soon.”
“That’s not all,” Sherrie continued, holding her hand up to stop Ms. Brackenridge from leaving. “I need a drill, a thin hose, and as many clean rags as you can find. Ariel needs to go into surgery.”
*
Missy pulled a heavy, dilapidated cardboard box off one of the shelves in the maintenance closet and placed it on the concrete floor, nearly toppling over from the weight. “After we find this crap, I need to go get Skiddy. He’s been alone for way too long. Are you still coming with?”
Mary kneeled on the floor and pushed random objects around in the box, looking for the supplies Dr. Dressner requested. She could find nothing of use, only nails, extension cords, an old paintbrush caked in green paint, and a few bricks. “Nothing here. Get another one, and yes, I am still going. I said I would, and I will. Let’s just make sure we get Dr. Dressner what she needs.”
Missy pulled another box from the shelf. It was large and heavy, the bottom about to give in, which seemed promising. Unable to bear the weight of the box, she let it drop to the floor, causing a rush of dust particles to fill the air, giving Mary a coughing fit.
“My God, this room is a dump. And you were complaining about buying your own crayons. Look at this crap,” Mary said while throwing a cracked level across the room. The teachers continued sorting through the box, taking turns having coughing fits while pulling out wires and other miscellaneous items that would have been better off in the trash.
“There’s nothing here. How does Mike fix anything?” Mary asked as she tossed a nine-volt battery back into the box. “This is straight-up ridiculous.”
“Does he even work, or does he just hang out in the teacher’s lounge watching sports and staring at your ass?” Missy replied with a laugh.
Mary picked up an olden wooden ruler from the box and slapped Missy’s thigh. “Perv!”
Missy snatched the ruler from her and pointed it in Mary’s direction. “Okay, focus. We need to think. There’s no drill here. We need to improvise.”
“Dr. Dressner is already improvising with a drill,” Mary replied, rolling her eyes. “We need a goddamn miracle.”
“Well, improvise a second time.” Missy sorted through the box again and pulled out a chisel. She walked over to the rack of tools and pulled a hammer from the wall and demonstrated striking the chisel. When she saw that Mary was unimpressed, she overexaggerated, widening her eyes like a mad scientist, a large grin on her face as she pulled her right arm behind her head and swung it forward, pretending to pound the chisel even harder.
“She’s not cracking open a coconut, dummy,” Mary replied. “But! We could maybe use a nail?” She jumped up and grabbed a box of wood nails off the shelf. “We don’t have anything better than this. It’ll have to do. She could hammer the nail in then use the nail-puller-outer to remove it.”
“Oh snap,” Missy said, ignoring Mary. “There’s a radio here.” Standing on her tiptoes, she pulled the old dusty radio off the shelf’s top rack. There was a stub of an antenna in the back and a compact disc player on top. Excitedly, she clicked the eject button and pulled out the disc. “Oooh…Jimi Hendrix!” she exclaimed as she inspected the disc, finding it nearly free of scratches.
Missy remembered many late nights as a teenager sitting by her mother’s old CD player, listening to classic rock CDs with her friends. Passing joints around the circle of stoners, blowing the smoke into a toilet paper roll stuffed with dryer sheets to dilute the smell. Missy wished she still lived in those days. She wished she lived in any day that was not today.
Mary snapped her fingers next to Missy’s ear, causing her to almost drop the radio. “I said: What about this hammer and nail thingamabob? Clearly, Greenwood cannot even supply basic tools, so do you think this will work?”
“Yeah,” Missy replied, looking for an outlet to plug the radio in. “She’ll think we’re idiots and won’t use it, but we can’t come back empty-handed.”
“Outlet’s over there,” Mary replied, pointing near the door of the maintenance closet. “I still don’t understand why Ms. B won’t let us into the media room. They could be broadcasting that this is, like, the end of the world or something.”
Missy plugged the radio into the outlet and clicked it on, causing it to blast loud static. “And…that’s why we can’t use the media room. Parents are already batshit crazy. We don’t need them to be even crazier.”
Mary stowed the hammer and nails in her bag alongside the hose and cloth they’d found earlier. “Let’s head back and check that radio later. Maybe we can finally hear what’s going on out there. I don’t think they’re going to fix the phones or internet anytime soon, but Dr. Dressner is waiting for us. We’ve wasted enough time.”
Missy pulled the plug out of the outlet. “Okay, after we drop off the supplies, let’s check this radio and then head back to my place and check on Skiddy. It’s almost eight, and he really needs to go out. Don will be away for a couple days, so there’s no one to take care of the little one.”
“So tell me more about Don going back to work,” Mary said, placing the strap on her handbag over her shoulder.
Missy thought for a moment. She couldn’t keep lying to Mary—she always saw right through her. And Mary was trustworthy. She could hold a secret. “Okay, but you have to swear that you won’t tell anyone.”
Mary held up her right hand. “I swear.”
“He took an old spaceship out and traveled to Messier 83 to check out some fast radio bursts. He and his coworkers think it’s a signal from space. They’ve always had the tech. The trip will take three days.”
Mary stood expressionless, then slowly a smile began to form. She let out a laugh and smacked Missy’s arm. “I see you’ve been watching the Rudy Clandestor documentary. You do know that he was schizophrenic, right? He committed suicide.”
“No,” Missy said. “He was murdered.”
Mary’s eyes lit up. “Did Don tell you that?”
“Maybe,” she said with a smile. “I’ll take you down the rabbit hole once we get to my house.”
*
“I can’t use that,” Dr. Dressner replied, returning the hammer to Mary. “Are you sure there’s nothing?”
Mary shook her head. “There were barely any tools in the maintenance room. I’m sorry, this is all we could find, along with a radio, which I know doesn’t help with this.”
Sherrie tried to imagine using the hammer on Ariel. There was no telling how far into Ariel’s skull the nail would drive. Above all else, there was the issue of removing the nail, which could cause further damage. In her mind, the risks outweighed the benefits. Waiting to see how Ariel fared far outweighed the damage that Sherrie could potentially do. Defeated, she rubbed her face with her hands, trying to focus on a better solution.
“Sorry, Dr. Dress—” Missy started.
“Sherrie Dressner,” said a policeman standing at the front doors of the gymnasium.
Sherrie looked up to find Officer Merin with a young man dressed in blue scrubs, whose eyes were fixed on the floor, and when Sherrie called out that she was present, he perked up and smiled, although it seemed to Sherrie he was insecure and withdrawn. Nevertheless, she was delighted to see another medical professional.
Officer Merin rested his hand on the Glock in his gun holster and shifted his weight as if he were annoyed that he’d needed to escort the man in. “Ma’am, this is Chris Link from Kinsley Hospital. He said he’s got a delivery for you. Do you know a Jeremy in the neurosurgery department there?”
“I d
o,” Sherrie replied, her eyes still on Chris, watching him gaze around the gymnasium. “I know him very well.”
“Okay, kid, you’re free to stay,” Officer Merin said, giving Chris a quick pat on the back. “When you’re ready to go, I’ll let you back out. Same way I brought you in.”
The officer turned to leave, and Sherrie felt something strange about him. Over the years, she had learned to trust her intuition, but she couldn’t pinpoint what was so odd about him. She thought it was the way he held himself, the way he treated Chris like a child, or maybe it was his awkwardness toward her. As he exited, he let the gym door slam shut, almost as if on purpose.
Sherrie’s eyes danced with excitement as she studied the man. “Dr. Katz sent you? What did he say? Are you here to help?”
Pulling his arms out of the straps, Chris handed Sherrie his backpack. “He just asked that I deliver this to you. He wanted to come himself but couldn’t get out of the hospital.”
Sherrie knelt on the floor and unzipped the bag, causing some of the contents to spill out. She slowly picked up the items, one by one, and neatly stacked them on the table, whispering praises at each item. When she looked into the main compartment, she immediately spotted the manual drill and pulled it out, clutching it tightly against her chest as if it were a Christmas morning gift.
“Dr. Katz…what a savior,” she whispered as she pulled a series of hoses out. Her luck had turned, and she knew she would be able to save Ariel after all. “Thank you so much for delivering this,” she said to Chris. “You’ve come just in time. Tell me about yourself. Do you work with Jeremy?”
Chris looked down at his scrubs. “No, actually, I don’t. I work in IT and volunteered to help out. I took these just as a change of clothes from the dispenser. I haven’t been home since day one of the sugar flu.”
