The Unraveling: Book 1 of the Bound to Survive Series

by Charley Hogwood

  “Dude, I’m glad you finally came around. We’ve known each other for what, six years or so? Heidi and I just started to get serious about this a couple years ago ourselves. This is why we’re goin’ to the pew-pew range today. I figure if we can’t protect what little we do have, we’re only keeping it until someone else comes along who wants to take it more than we want to protect it.“

  “I’m a little concerned about telling people my idea and what our family has already stored. That seems a little personal. So, I guess my question is, are we going to do this?” Cal asked.

  “Dude, we have already been doing this, you just didn’t realize it until now.” Toadie pulled up to the range office where they signed in. Rusty knew everyone there. That figures. Rusty eased up to a guy in tactical pants and closed in for the typical bro hug.

  “Shane baby, how are ya, brother?”

  In a dense Irish accent, the man replied, “I’m better than you, ya Ginger.”

  “That’s funny coming from a guy who can’t shoot.”

  Rusty took the low shot, knowing better. Shane O’Carroll could shoot quite well. He was ex-infantry with several tours in the sandbox. He liked to be known as a door kicker, in homage to his many unannounced visits into Iraqi and Afghani homes in the “War on Terror.”

  Shane was wired a little tightly sometimes, but after spending so many tours running head first into dark rooms filled with people who can’t wait to shred you, a person starts imagining danger everywhere. Even though the ambushes and IEDs were in the past, Shane was unable to shake the feeling that rush hour traffic was a sign of impending attack. He felt claustrophobic when he didn’t have an avenue of escape at all times. In all actuality, he was a pretty good guy but he overcompensated sometimes to cover the fact that inside, the war had shaken his confidence in almost all things. To him, it was better to look tough than admit he had trouble coping. “Over there” it seemed they all wanted to kill you, so you killed back. Over here, the rules of engagement for a disagreement did not allow for such a response.

  Shane didn’t always take the time to think things through, and the idea of getting a tribal tattoo to impress his first wife failed miserably. The fact that he surprised her with it didn’t help at all. Of course, Rusty reminded him of this as his trump card insult if the situation called for it. Everyone knows you can’t defend a bad tattoo.

  As the range day wore on, the guys took advantage of the group mingling time to get to know each other. Cal liked the vibe, but felt just a little wary of Shane. He wasn’t sure what was bothering him, but in the back of his mind he just felt like something was off, and might come back to bite him in the ass later. Meanwhile, Rusty and Shane were in a bet as to who could out-shoot the other. The bet was centered around who could shoot the staples out of the paper target first so it would fall from the frame.

  Shane tried to get into Rusty’s head, “Ginger, you don’t have a hair on your pasty white ass if you don’t go out there and hold the target still for me.”

  Rusty fired back, “Does that discount tribal tattoo make you shoot better too? Or is that limited to throwing spears? I’ve seen better ink on pig ears”

  Shane became flustered trying to come up with a witty response and pulled the shot. He missed the edge of the paper altogether. Rusty struck three out of four staples, compared to Shane’s one effective shot.

  “I’ll tattoo your ass, ya leprechaun,” Shane snapped after losing the challenge.

  “It’s ok, if we ever find ourselves runnin’ and gunnin’ for real, I’ll just stay behind you where it’s safe.” Rusty had to get one last jab in before they cleared the range.

  “Come on, I’ll buy you two a beer to cry in on the way home.”

  2

  Chapter 2

  Friday, December 8th

  El Paso, Texas

  It was the last day of exams at West Texas University and Tony Castellano, like most of the students, was getting ready to head home for the Christmas break.

  His flight was set to leave tomorrow mid-morning, so tonight, he figured he’d partake in the various festivities around campus. Tony slid into the dining hall for a snack, hoping to see his new favorite girl on staff. As he didn’t speak a word of Spanish other than “gracias,” he wasn’t sure if Dani liked him back, but she was cute and smiled at him regularly, so it was pretty much love on his end. To his disappointment, she wasn’t there for his final meal.

  Too bad, I coulda used a goodbye kiss, he thought.

  Later the next afternoon after a seemingly endless journey of planes, trains and Ubers, Tony unfolded himself from the little car as it eased to a stop in front of his house, he felt the frigid air surround him as he got his bags out of the trunk. He coughed and dropped a few F-bombs, blaming it on the cold air, and New Jersey in general.

  “Ma!,” he called, as he loudly dropped his backpack on the floor.

  “My son, you look skinny, don’t they feed you out there?” She turned to hug the son who now towered over her.

  “Ma, I eat like 10,000 calories a day, but it’s nothing like your pasta.”

  “You look sick, are you sick? I knew it, you need some food.” Tony rolled his eyes and went into the living room to greet his father, grabbing two beers on the way. He was starting to feel tired and just wanted to sleep, maybe he should have gone to school in Jersey so he didn’t have to spend so much time in airports with layovers and everything else.

  “Hey, college boy.” Louie, Tony’s older brother, strutted into the living room in his police uniform.

  “I see the neighborhood is secure, Deputy Doughnut.”

  “Whatever, book boy. Must be some food around here for you to make an appearance.”

  Drifting in behind Louie was Carmen Miranda. Tony froze mid-sip. Carmen and Tony had been a real thing back in the day. She may have been the one that got away. As Tony finished his sip a fire started to well up in his gut. Right now, the only thing keeping him on the couch was a cold beer and the fact that he felt like a pile of hammered dog shit from this cold, or whatever it was.

  Time flew past, and about 2 hours later everyone was either stretched out in a chair with loosened pants or on the back porch drinking. Of course, the topic of Carmen came up. It started as that uncomfortable elephant in the room and ended up with the two boys rearranging yard furniture as they rolled around in the snow trying to best each other.

  Their mother heard the commotion and came out yelling and swinging a broom at the two bloodied giants on the ground.

  “Stop it you two, you’re both adults yet you can’t be bothered to grow up.”

  Tony lay there in the snow and said, “You’re lucky I don’t feel good or it would be your ass… you ass.” The coughing fits were steadily getting worse.

  “Whatever, puss. I deal with perps all day stronger than you on the job.” Louie chided, just as the broom dusted the back of his head.

  “Ma! Stop that!”

  The following Saturday, Louie arrived at the mandatory outreach event at the homeless shelter. It was 8 am, and he was not thrilled about this at all. However, his department had mandated that all personnel contribute a minimum of 20 volunteer service hours annually to be considered for promotion, as part of the so-called “Cops in The Community” program.

  Of course, the local politicians had also descended on the event, because someone had to make a show for the cameras. The new Democratic Congressman’s Chief of Staff caught wind of a photo op at the event, which led to the Mayor joining in. By the time everyone jumped on board, there was hardly any room for the people the event was intended to serve.

  A convoy of security led several black limousines into the covered parking area. Congressman Tim Kennedy stepped out of the town car and was greeted by Mayor Francis Christian. When the event was reorganized as a political dog and pony show, Louie had been reassigned from volunteer food server to the Mayor’s security detail for the time the Mayor was at the event. However, as punishment for losing his temper la
st week and punching a suspect during interrogation, the Captain had made it very clear that he would go right back to food server after the Mayor left, and that he had better be the absolute last soul out of the building.

  Louie really didn’t want to be there today because the flu was dragging him down.

  “This is not the time to feel like I have the plague.” Louie said to his partner Eric.

  “I hear what you’re saying Louie, my kids are sick at home. They aren’t happy about it. All the other kids are sledding over at Church Square park. Not to mention, the wife’s pissed at being stuck at home with 3 sick kids,” Eric lamented, sipping a hot coffee.

  “I think my muscle head brother brought this crap back from that redneck university in Texas. Either that or I’m allergic to his bullshit.” Louie coughed into his jacket sleeve and wiped his red nose on the back of his glove. “It’s friggin cold out here, too.”

  The sharply dressed politicians approached casually, until they saw the television cameras. Then the game was afoot and they were all smiles, shaking hands with every officer and giving out the thumbs up sign to thank them for their service. Next, they passed down the line of volunteers, thanking them for their time and giving out hugs. A small boy ran up a little too quick from behind for Louie’s liking, and he put his arm out to stop him, catching the boy in the face with his gloved hand.

  “Easy kid, you don’t want to get stepped on with all these cameras moving around.”

  Hearing the conversation between Louie and the little boy, the Congressman turned around and picked up the boy for the cameras, pressing their cheeks together as though he was posing for the family Christmas card. As he set the boy down, he tried to discreetly turn to his aide with his hand out.

  “Quick, squirt some hand sanitizer on me, that kid probably has some kind of disease that will make my nuts fall off.”

  “Sorry sir, with the bridge closures near the Mayor’s office I wasn’t able to stop this morning. I’ll make sure to have some at the next event.”

  “Oh you’ve GOT to be KIDDING me!” the Congressman said through gritted teeth. He made a mental note to get a new assistant while he tried to wipe his hands on his jacket before posing for another picture.

  In a few minutes, the Congressman had had enough of the smell of soup and feet and decided on a fake excuse of needing to get back to “the work of the people.” He was out in a record 17 minutes. The Mayor wasn’t far behind; at least his aide had remembered to bring some hand sanitizer.

  With the politicians gone, Louie was forced to assume his post behind the counter, armed with a soup ladle, serving a seemingly endless line of people.

  “Why don’t they have tissues around here?” he wondered, his nose red and dripping. After the event, the Scout Troop that was also volunteering at the event insisted on a picture with the officers.

  Louie turned to his partner Eric and said, “Can you believe that every one of those kids gave me a hug? They sure do teach manners in that group. Two of the moms even kissed me on the cheek.”

  “If you didn’t get phone numbers, it didn’t happen!” Eric laughed in reply.

  “Whatever, at least women like me, unlike your sorry ass. I’m going home, my assignment was watch the suits, I’m calling that box checked. Feed the hungry, check. Take the rest of the day off, check. Oh, but if Captain Rigby asks, I was here all night!”

  The coughing fit took all the air out of Louie’s grand exit. “This flu is kicking my ass,” he mumbled as he shuffled off to the car. Eric did not know it at the time, but that would be the last time he worked with his partner. As he took one more lap around the serving area, he got that sensation in the throat one gets right before you begin to feel like death has its hold on you.

  A few weeks later, there would be plenty of overtime opportunities to fill in for those who were out sick. Unfortunately, those shifts would never be filled.

  3

  Chapter 3

  Wednesday, December 20th

  Wellington, Florida

  In one of Cal’s latest bids, his construction company had won the contract to perform the “North Wing” renovation at St. Agatha’s Medical Center, a major trauma and research hospital located near West Palm Beach, Florida. In addition to treating local patients, Pharma-Stat, the leading biotech mega corporation, now used the top floors of the hospital, as well as the 10 acres of urban land adjacent to the hospital, as their Southern region’s base of operations.

  Cal was on site for the weekly project alignment meeting with all of the key contractors, along with the hospital liaison, Dr. Mark Welby, in one of the new conference rooms on the fourth floor.

  Dr. Mark Welby was the chief physician for the hospital. His duties somehow came to include making sure the renovation work stayed true to the theme of the hospital, whatever that meant. He worked closely with Cal on all things aesthetic, and had been instrumental in creating a patient room that would be expected by the wealthy Palm Beach crowd, yet could hold all the appropriate care equipment infrastructure to facilitate the research and development work being performed by Pharma-Stat.

  Dr. Welby had a storied career in medicine. He was raised in a small town in Vermont and had always known medicine was where he wanted to be. Standing at 6’ 3” with more of a swimmer’s build, Mark had salt and pepper hair and green eyes. After med school, he was leaning toward emergency care and found himself drawn to trauma center work. He had plenty of experience with trauma after he finished his residency in Chicago, and after three years he felt that he had seen enough gunshot trauma to last several lifetimes. Feeling the need for a break from the urban combat of Chicago, Mark joined Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders). An international humanitarian-aid non-governmental organization, Mark traveled around the world, spending a fair amount of time traveling through Africa.

  He met Nurse Clara Lovejoy in the country of Guinea, just before the Ebola outbreak in 2013. Clara Lovejoy was ten years younger and could easily be confused for a yoga instructor. At a tall 5’ 11” and fit, Clara got attention everywhere she went. Often mistaken for a yoga instructor, Clara took great pride in her nursing experience and was glad to have found someone who appreciated her expertise and her love of helping people. They began working together as traveling doctors, performing health check-ups in rural villages. Mark and Clara were transferred to Liberia to work with the US military to get control of the outbreak before control was completely lost. They had many close calls and came to watch over each other in an environment where one small error such as a nicked glove or ill-fitted respirator could be deadly.

  In March 2016, the World Health Organization declared the Ebola emergency status terminated and Mark and Clara made their way back to the United States. After everything they had been through, they were bonded for life. Mark accepted a position in the emergency room at St. Agatha’s and Clara joined him as an ER nurse. This would be a piece of cake after the Ebola outbreak, she thought. What could possibly happen in a rich city with a beach? Famous last words.

  Cal was just packing up one of the small drones he used for aerial photography when he motioned to Mark to stay for another minute. The drones had been a risky investment but had really paid off in the long run. The suits loved the construction progress aerials, and Cal had started putting short videos together to show off the time lapse of the construction phases.

  “Mark, did I hear you have some experience with diseases in third-world countries?”

  Mark gave Cal that look, and braced himself for an overly drawn out story about a friend with some sort of condition.

  Over his glasses, Mark replied, “You might say that. I spent quite a lot of time in small town Africa. Why?”

  Cal, now emboldened, continued, “I’ve seen on the news about all the diseases coming into the US from the Mexican border and I heard on the news about the CDC saying this year the flu is really bad. I also heard the CDC talking about Venezuelan refugees possibly bringing their diseases here and t
he government down there won’t allow our people in to see what is going on? I’m feeling that with everything happening I should prepare my family a little better. One of my close friends feels the same way and we have talked about combining efforts. Is that crazy?”

  Mark thought for a second, trying to decide how much he should share.

  “I don’t think it is crazy at all. It is true that our medical system in this country is very robust. Ebola, for example would not get very far here because we watch for such things. The problem is that we are not actually at the top of the food chain like most people believe. Just because we seem to rule the world as a species, this is not really the case. The biggest dangers are the smallest killers. We always talk about disasters and wars as being the thing that could kill us, but a virus could actually make us extinct. If you wanted to be somewhere safe, the US is the place for medical care but if a hot virus took hold overseas, it could be all over our country in days because of air travel. That was probably more answer than you wanted, sorry about that.”

  So it was true. Cal had really hoped the doctor would say everything would be fine but in the back of his mind this helped to cement his feelings of preparing his family.

  “Thanks doc, now I want to go wash my hands or something.”

  “Look Cal, between you and me…” Mark looked around as if someone would be listening in for some reason, “… because of my time in Africa, I’ve been asked to remain a member of the CDC Crisis Response Team. Think of it like an infectious disease reservist for emergencies,” Mark continued. “We’ve known each other for quite a while so I am going to share something with you.”

  “Okay, why does this sound like a State secret kind of thing?” Cal was torn between taking notes and running for the elevator at Mark’s tone.

  “Actually, what I’m about to tell you hasn’t been released to the public yet. Your instincts to prepare are justified and I’ve been feeling the same way. I’ve always kept some basic stuff for storms and such, but it was never really that big of a deal until after the hurricane last year when my Homeowner’s Association made me the honorary disaster medical chief but found out I didn’t have much more than some Neosporin and a few Band-Aids. That was embarrassing. It just didn’t occur to me that I would need anything because I figured I would be at the hospital in a disaster. Once I started to put some gear together, it became a relaxing hobby to prepare. Besides, I’ve seen what happens when a hospital is overrun with panic. There won’t be much left after that happens.”