by Jessica King
“Right, and you can still get that second strand even if you get the first.”
He flipped to a new station.
“A collection of scientists were found dead in front of LabTech. It appears in their hope of creating a vaccine for the RAUVI one and two strains, they created what some are actually calling RAUVI-3, which appears to be the same as the original virus, but with a one hundred percent death rate.”
Cameron flicked the station off, wheezing now. Should he pull over? Was he about to drop dead? He decided to take the chance and sped up, his vision tunneling to his exit. He could at least ride the thing out in his childhood treehouse if he was going to make it.
The idea of not making it made his throat and eyes sting. Would he really die at sixteen? Would he really die less than a month after his sister? He started to cry, and he wasn’t sure if it was for himself, for the life he might lose in the next few hours, or for his parents, who would lose two children in one horrible year.
Coughs and sobs were racking his body by the time he managed to get into his backyard, his coughing ringing in his ears. The taste of it was horrible. His mother ran onto the porch.
“Don’t!” he yelled, throwing up his hands. “Don’t come closer! I think I have RAUVI,” he said. “There’s no point in you getting it!” He cried, wanting nothing more than to run onto the porch to his mom. “I’m going to sleep in the treehouse.”
His mother’s hand was over her mouth, her eyes tearing for a moment. Then she straightened her shoulders and nodded. Within moments, he had pajamas, a pillow, a sleeping bag, and two filled bottles of water. He told her to go inside, but she wouldn’t. Instead, she pulled the television onto the back porch and sat as Cameron coughed from inside his old treehouse, pushing aside old leaves and fighting a headache threatening to tear his mind apart.
His mother turned on an old comedy show he loved, but she hated and watched the whole thing, laughing when Cameron couldn’t. He knew she was forcing it, but when a torrent of chills threatened to take over his body, he was listening for her laughs instead of the punchlines.
+++
Wednesday, April 5, 2017, 11:07 p.m.
David could hear the coughing from the driveway. He ran through the house and to the back porch, where his wife had set up the television. The light of a flashlight and the horrible sound of coughing, sneezing, muffled moans of pain came from his children’s old treehouse.
He looked at Andrea, feeling the life drain straight down from the top of his head to his toes. She was clearly trying not to cry, and she looked swollen from it. She shook her head.
David stared at the treehouse, which was a fit of noise and croaking breaths.
“David?” Andrea said. “Where are you going?” she shook her head. She needed him there. But Cameron needed him somewhere else.
“Back to the lab,” he said, pointing to the treehouse. “I’m going to find a cure for this thing. We aren’t losing him too.”
+++
Thursday, April 6, 2017, 9:15 a.m.
The president looked grave when he walked out into the press conference. The blue of the carpets and the presidential seal even seemed dull. The room was filled with computers instead of reporters, media streaming in for questions, too afraid to show up in person.
The only people visible onscreen were two secret service agents, who were wearing masks themselves. The president pulled his off and settled it on the podium and stared into the camera.
“Today is a grave day for our country. For every country. As the fear of RAUVI-1 and RAUVI-2 has moved just as fast as the virus itself, it seems that it is the only thing we can talk about. The release of the RAUVI-1 strand of the virus, originally dubbed “L.A. Fever,” was indeed a release of a biological weapon meant to allow our troops to temporarily stun and weaken enemies, should they need to, domestically and abroad in a non-lethal way through a forty-eight-hour set of severe symptoms. A very contagious set of systems meant to be used in contained areas such as foreign bases.”
He paused, shuffling the papers in front of him. He had gone with paper instead of allowing teleprompter people to know before he addressed the nation. “However, after this compound was accidentally released from the bio-weapons lab in Los Angeles, a terrorist managed to mutate the RAUVI virus into a second, far more deadly strain. We also believe it is this same terrorist who created what we have labeled as the RAUVI-3 strain, ending in the death of many of the scientists at LabTech, also in Los Angeles. This strain has been completely contained by our emergency team in California.”
The reporters had been asked to keep their microphones muted, as there would be no questions, but it felt strange that he could not hear the gasps that were surely sounding throughout the country. “It is unknown if this terrorist is foreign or domestic if they are a part of any group or acting as an individual, and nor do we know the goal of the person who has reengineered RAUVI into a killing machine. Right now, we ask those exhibiting symptoms not to leave their homes. To call their doctors before being asked to come to hospitals, to give healthcare professionals time to prepare their facility for such a contagious patient.”
He swallowed. “Effective immediately, all non-essential businesses will be closing their doors for the next fourteen days. Grocery stores and pharmacies will remain open. Any other stores will be required to offer curbside pickup or drive-through options.” He now imagined himself staring into the eyes of the person who unleashed hell on his country. “We will find this terrorist. All resources of the FBI and CIA are at work on this. We will find a cure. All the most brilliant minds in our country are working around the clock. We will get through this together. Stay home and stay safe.”
He turned away from the podium as several reporters broke protocol, and he heard their voices streaming through electronic speakers. He pulled his mask over his face as his agents closed in behind him.
The End
But There is MORE to come in “The Outbreak Of Ivy”…
**
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