As he searched through the bottom drawer of his desk for the bourbon hidden in the back, his private cell phone rang. The caller ID showed the name Jones—his NSA contact.
“Yes, Mr. Jones?” or whatever your fucking name is. Calgleef thought but didn’t say.
“You know of the further outbreaks?”
“Yes, I do. I was just about to call Thorncroft with the news,”
“FDA, state health services, and FEMA are setting up quarantine areas now and—”
“They what?” Calgleef stood, infuriated. “Why wasn’t I informed of this?” He had planned, as he told Denman, to involve FEMA, but had been beaten to the punch.
“I’m informing you now,” the agent said in a calm manner. “Don’t panic, Calgleef, things are under control.”
“Are you serious? How can they be?”
“Just be a good boy and listen.”
Calgleef didn’t care for the condescending tone, but refrained from commenting. Mr. Jones explained the virus was still contained to Des Moines and with the barricades, no one would be leaving.
“The news will be out and there’s nothing we can do about that, but we can play on the public’s fear. An announcement of the imminent arrival of vaccines to safeguard the population from the ravages of this flu will prevent panic. But we have to reinforce the need for order—that is what will get us through.”
He told the CDC Director that unless order is maintained then rioting—not the Baltic Flu—would be responsible for bringing this country down.
“People will want their vaccinations immediately and patience won’t be their strong point. And, Mr. Jones, you’re talking about over three hundred million Americans. Will there be enough vaccine to go around?”
“The latest word I’ve received is that the US government has granted special clearance for flights to and from the United Kingdom indefinitely. I assume that’s to transport the vaccine continuously until it can be manufactured here.”
Calgleef noted that his contact clearly stated it was “the latest word I’ve received.” Plausible deniability once again.
“Now Calgleef, the next batch of vaccines are due to arrive tomorrow and will land directly at Des Moines Airport. I don’t need to tell you how imperative it is to begin the vaccinations at once, so make sure you have your teams in place. More will arrive in other cities in the following days, okay?”
“Yes, yes I’ll see to it. Anything else?” Calgleef said to the agent, whose calm disposition unnerved him no end.
Was he not aware of the risk of further outbreaks in the city.
Calgleef asked himself. He had become wary of the NSA agent and his motives and the deeper the hole became, the more Calgleef’s conviction moderated.
“Yes, there is one more,” the agent said nonchalantly. “The governor has ‘done a runner,’ as our British friends like to say. He and his wife can’t be found. At this moment, it doesn’t matter, but you’ll have to hold a press conference to try and ease concerns”
“What, when?”
“In about fifteen minutes. A national press conference will be scheduled along with the Director of the FDA. You can do it from your press room and the feed will go to all stations. You must emphasize the need not to panic, you follow?”
After a short pause, Calgleef answered. “Yes, yes certainly.”
The agent reminded Calgleef once again not to panic, then ended the call.
“Panic.” Calgleef stared out of his window. “That’s easy for him to say.”
9
Nine
Grace and her fellow escapees settled into the upper-level offices. It was drier, warmer, and didn’t have that dirty damp odor empty factories the world over seem to possess. They all sat in one of the office rooms—perhaps the former manager’s—Grace, Tilford, and Mike in an old sofa against the large windows, while Steve and Richard sat on wooden crates. Another crate was used as a table of sorts. The water hadn’t been turned off yet, and they could get a drink when they wanted at the restroom down the hall. Something to eat would have been preferred by all five, but it was better than nothing at all.
“It’s decided then?” Grace said. She was making sure everyone was onboard with the plans but kept her eyes on Steve Donalds the whole time.
“Yeah, sure. But that phone is crucial, we have to—”
“I’m quite aware of that fact,” Mike jumped in, “I’ll get a phone don’t worry.”
Grace understood by his tone that the chopper pilot meant every word. She was about to question him on how he planned to do this when Richard’s sudden movement caught her eye.
“What the hell is that?” he stood and pointed.
The office window gave a clear view of the city of Des Moines, which was perhaps fifteen miles away from their present location.
“Smoke. From a fire—a damn big one at that.” As a TV news chopper pilot, Mike had covered his fair share of fires.
A large column of dark smoke rose into the sky on what looked to be the east end of Des Moines.
“You know…judging from the direction, that’s in the same area as Riverside Hospital.”
“How can you tell from here?”
“I can’t say for sure, but that’s the East, and after everything else that’s happened…” Mike looked at the dark plume, then at Grace. “Yeah, I doubt we’re looking at a coincidence.”
There were more questions than there were answers, but Grace wasn’t after either. She wanted results.
10
Ten
Calgleef marched into the media room of the Centers for Disease Control, fully prepared and drilled with what to say. His head still pounded, but the extra nips he had after eating helped iron out the jitters—until he opened the door.
The room was full of reporters, cameras, and lighting equipment. What was supposed to be a statement from the Director of the CDC before a camera had turned into press conference. The deputy director and other department heads were there, but they weren’t the ones giving the statement, nor would they have to answer any of the inevitable questions. Like a lamb thrown to the wolves, that’s how Calgleef felt.
Trial by fire, that’s what it was to be.
Calgleef began by detailing the known facts and how, in the panic to save America from the same fate as much of Europe, an unfortunate oversight arose.
“It was beyond anyone’s control,” he told the audience of approximately twenty-five. “How could hospital staff or my office or the State Department have known that an outbreak of Legionnaire’s would occur. And to top it off, the representative of the vaccine manufacturer was unaware that he was a carrier of the Baltic flu.”
“Sir, sir.” A reporter stood, he wasn’t going to wait for the designated question time. “Are you suggesting that somehow the Legionnaire’s disease and the Baltic flu, as carried in by this man, combined to produce a contagion that spread with alarming speed and caused the infected to attack others in the hospital…even kill them?”
Calgleef stared back in shock at the reporter then quickly looked to his assistant. The reporter didn’t have it all. He was fishing, but he was using the right bait.
“Well, err…” Calgleef began but stopped from replying when he saw two members of the CDC security detail rush into the media room.
“Director we have some urgent news,” one of the officers whispered when he got close to the dais. “A fire has broken out at Riverside Hospital in Des Moines, sir.”
“What, how long ago?” Calgleef did his best to appear surprised.
“We’re not sure exactly, sir, we just got word of it. It happened just after the National Guard went in to search the premises, but the initial reports say they managed to get out.”
“What about any patients or staff?”
“That we don’t know, sir.”
“What is it, what’s going on?” the reporter who questioned Calgleef demanded to know.
“There been a fire at the hospital in Des Moines. I’m sorry, b
ut we’ll have to end the press conference as I’m needed elsewhere. Thank you, ladies, and gentlemen, thank you…” Calgleef instantly turned and walked out via a side fire escape rather than run the gauntlet by going out the front doors. Reporters stood and shouted questions as he left, but just kept going. The fire—or at least getting told of it—was perfect timing.
With the hospital burning, another batch of vaccines about to arrive, an NSA agent he didn’t trust, and a former colleague on the run, Calgleef wouldn’t need to make any excuses to avoid future press conferences—he simply wouldn’t have time.
The Director of the CDC locked the door behind him as he hurried back into his office—he was sure there would be news coverage of the fire in Des Moines. He needed to see it. Only hours earlier had Jones informed him of the impending fire and now here it was—just like that. He couldn’t believe the ruthlessness of Jones’ action, but when he thought about it more, it paled in comparison to Thorncroft. But when the consequences of your subterfuge became such a harsh reality that even the national news services couldn’t ignore, the inhumanity was driven home that much further.
Calgleef grabbed the remote from his desk and pointed it at the wall-mounted TV. In a few seconds, he was looking at the remains of Riverside Hospital.
“My God…” He put a hand out behind him for his desk, then leaned against it. Thick columns of black smoke soared into the air and licks of flame periodically jumped from windows.
If anyone was alive… he started, but forced the thought from his mind.
“If it wasn’t already, then it’s certainly out of control now,” Calgleef said as he reached for the bottle of bourbon he’d now moved to his desk’s top drawer.
As he poured another drink, he gazed over at the phones on his desk—he expected at least one of them to ring at any moment. Thorncroft or Jones, one of the two. But even after he’d taken his seat in his swivel chair and a couple of sips of bourbon, the phones all remained quiet.
“Makes sense, I guess,” he said between sips. “It was Jones’ plan, so he doesn’t need to call me and if Thorncroft didn’t come up with it, then I’m sure he approved of it.”
Calgleef rocked back in his chair. The whiskey wasn’t masking the fear this time. He’d gone from willing conspiracist to a doubtful follower to a panicked individual who wanted out.
“Damn it! Why didn’t I pay more attention to Delaney!” he slammed his empty glass on his desk and reached for the bottle. He was beyond caring about what state he was in.
11
Eleven
Mike came to Grace later in the afternoon. He believed, or perhaps hoped, that the fire would act in their favor.
“How so?”
“It should provide enough distraction while we get food and a phone.” He spoke with confidence, but then he always did.
“As if the flu and the quarantine wouldn’t be,” Grace said.
Mike nodded then asked the CDC officer straight out, “You think the hospital was deliberately burned, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do,” she answered without hesitation. “And I’ll tell you why—it covers a lot of tracks.”
“Fire has a way of doing that.”
Grace agreed before adding, “I think you should wait until it’s dark before you head out. It won’t hurt to have another ally.”
We’re in a pretty poor state when our best allies are distraction and darkness. Mike thought to himself.
Hours later as the hand of darkness crept over the city, Mike and Richard prepared for their night errand.
“I think three hours at the very most,” Mike said. “Any longer than that—”
Grace cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Don’t take too much of a gamble with this car. Dump it as soon as you can.” She then stepped aside to allow Mike to drive the Chrysler 200 from the safety of the factory.
No one was under any illusions of the dangers faced by Mike and Richard—and it wouldn’t help any to mention them.
As Mike drove from the factory he took a good look on either side of him. The factory had been abandoned for some time and new activity might create an interest they didn’t want or need.
“So, where’s the best place to get food?”
Mike glanced over his right shoulder for a moment, then returned his eyes to the road.
Is he serious? Mike asked himself.
“Well, I don’t know but I thought we might try this new-fangled thing called a supermarket. Have you heard of them before?”
“Yeah, yeah. All right, smartass.”
Mike laughed at his companion’s response. Richard, after a moment’s hesitation, also joined in.
“What I meant was how are we going to do it without any money or cards?”
“When you have no cash and no credit cards, then a gun works just as well—if not better!” Mike turned and gave Richard a wink. “Now if we only knew what road this is…”
“Looks like a crossroad up ahead, there might be sign.”
Mike nodded. He didn’t know exactly where they were, but the closest inhabited area was in the direction of Des Moines. “We’re low on gas, so our choices are going to be limited.”
“I think our choices have been limited ever since we stopped to rescue those doctors off the roof.”
“You think we shouldn’t have?”
Richard shrugged by way of an answer.
Mike had questioned it too—the rescue of Drs. Delaney and Tilford—but, while it might have kept him from becoming a fugitive, it wouldn’t have changed the overall outcome. At least this way, he knew what he was up against.
When they reached the crossroad, Mike looked down the intersecting road which led into the city. It was an eerier feeling, a lone car on a busy intersection and not a sign of any other traffic—and the sun hadn’t been down but for a few minutes. It was now dark and with nothing else on the road to impede their view, the yellow flashing lights of the barricades could be seen, even though they were many miles from them.
Mike stared in the direction of the flashing lights for a good few seconds before he slammed the manual drive vehicle into first gear and turned the steering wheel hard.
He headed toward Des Moines.
It no longer mattered where they were exactly, they had to take the risk.
“Let’s hope we hit a market before we reach the barricades,” he said as he increased speed.
Enough news of what had transpired at the hospital had reached the population, Mike thought, that along with a curfew would be the only reasons for the total lack of traffic.
“If we get spotted, do you—”
“I prefer not to think about it, Richard.”
“Well, you might wanna slow down and turn off the headlights, just to be sure.”
The kid had a point, Mike thought, and eased up on the accelerator and turned off the lights. With no other cars to worry about the street lamps made the road visible enough to travel.
“So, you believe this woman doctor, about the flu breakout?” Richard asked after a short lull in conversation.
Mike felt the kid had something on his mind and wasn’t surprised by the question.
“I doubt they’d shut down a whole city if the threat wasn’t real. And in case you’ve forgotten, they tried to have us killed to prevent anything from getting out.”
“I’m not necessarily disagreeing, but…I don’t know, I just want some confirmation. Like, who the fuck are ‘they’ anyway?”
Mike brought the car to a stop in the middle of the road. He didn’t have all the answers his companion wanted but he did know some things.
“They, are the faceless people that run this world, I imagine. The Illuminati, the Bilderberg Group, the Skull and Bones, or just plain corporate interests. Call them what you will, but they’re the ones who have been rumored to be in control—of everything. The politicians answer to them.”
“You believe that?”
“There’s quite a deal of evidence, hearsay though it may
be, that the invasion of Iraq in 2003 was motivated by corporate desires and the Afghanistan invasion was simply to reinvigorate the heroin production after the Taliban had all but wiped it out.”
“Wait, are you serious? You’re ex-military, surely you—”
“I’m not saying one way or the other. Just pointing it out, but it is worth noting that after the Taliban cracked down on the poppy production, there was a dearth of heroin in our streets.” Mike wasn’t trying to convince him, just relaying the information. “And our captors back there in that factory were definitely Intel agency types. I know, I’ve dealt with them before.”
Richard’s eyes wandered as he nodded, obvious he was in thought. “We better get on with it then?”
“Too right,” Mike said as he got the car back into gear, “too damn right!”
Not too far up ahead, they came upon some traffic and the bright lights of a parking lot.
“Looks like we’re not the only folks after some grub,” Mike said as he turned the Chrysler into a Fareway market.
“Yeah, we’ve got quite a bit of company, and no cops.”
That was good news to Mike’s ears, but better was that Richard was sharp enough to keep an eye out for the law.
“They’ve got bigger things to deal with than worrying about an out-of-town grocery store.”
Mike parked right at the back where he’d come in. He didn’t think anyone would notice nor care, but it never hurt to be careful when you’re on the run.
“C’mon, let’s get a little closer,” Mike said as he checked the magazine of the 9mm pistol. “I’m hoping we don’t need this but…”
As the two made their way toward the entrance, both couldn’t help noticing the haphazard way the vehicles had been parked.
This wasn’t emergency shopping, Mike thought, this was appropriation.
Pestilence Boxed Set [Books 1 & 2] Page 20
