by Jack Hunt
He nodded and after checking the coast was clear they sprinted out and continued on their way.
A roadblock had been set up just south of Gerlach, not far from Empire. There, Jenna and the others were forced off the truck and directed through fencing that was still being erected by a fleet of Army vehicles. Beyond the chain-link were huge white tents, and a large number of people, many burners, others locals according to Vanessa. All of the military were hidden behind CBRN suits and gas masks. Their voices were muffled but direct and full of anger. “Move it. That way.”
One by one temperature devices were jammed in their ears, and they were scanned with high-tech equipment before being ushered into one of two colored-coded camps. Those not seen as a threat were funneled into a green zone, a large number of residents were there, while a red zone had been set up for anyone showing the early signs of flu-like symptoms or an elevated temperature.
No mercy was shown.
Kids were separated from parents.
Babies from mothers.
Husbands from wives.
Those who protested were dealt with quickly by either being dragged away or having a rifle slammed in their face. One guy was even shot as he attempted to run. Jenna looked around at the scared faces of young and old that resembled chickens penned in a coop. Transport helicopters along with medevac circled overhead, a few landing nearby.
“Next,” a lady shouted gesturing to Jenna to step forward so they could place a colored band around her wrist. Hers was green.
That’s when they bombarded her with questions.
“What’s your name?”
“Jenna Jones.”
“Residence?”
She rolled it off as another scribbled her details down.
“You’re from out of town, when did you arrive?”
“Monday.”
“Have you come in contact with anyone from the Burning Man event in the past forty-eight hours?”
“No. I mean...”
The woman looked up at her.
“No,” she said firmly.
“You sure about that?”
“Positive.”
Having worked at a local hospital in Baltimore at the time of the SARS outbreak, she knew the routine. Hospitals followed rigid plans on how to manage communicable disease epidemics. There was little room for error. It required implementation of measures to protect staff, patients and visitors from infection all the way through to handling demand, dealing with transportation and acts of violence.
Jenna cast a glance over her shoulder at Vanessa who stepped forward after her and repeated the same information barring where her residence was.
“You’re from Gerlach?”
“That’s right.”
The soldier made a gesture to one of her co-workers and two hulking guys came over and took her away into one of the white tents, presumably to perform more tests. The thought that she might be infected and symptoms hadn’t shown yet was at the forefront of her mind. All of them in that building had been exposed to someone who’d contracted it, the question was how this was transmitted. She joined a large group of strangers who were talking among themselves trying to make sense of the situation. No one had any idea, neither did they understand why they were being quarantined. Some even thought they would be shipped out if they just shut up and played by the rules.
Her name was called again.
“Jenna Jones.”
Within seconds of acknowledging, she was whisked into another tent, this one however wasn’t for medical assessment. The room had minimal furniture, except for a couple of steel folding desks, seats and laptops. “Mrs. Jones, I’m Colonel Mason Tomlin. I’m the commanding officer of the U.S. Army Medical Research Institute. This is Dr. Brianna Graham from the CDC,” he said gesturing to an unmasked individual to the right. He looked down at a tablet in front of him. He began reeling off details about her, information that only she or her closest friends or colleagues might know. When he was done, he stared over the rim of his glasses.
“Where is your husband?”
“What is happening?”
“Answers later. Where is your husband?”
“Why?”
The colonel looked at the doctor. “It’s important we find him,” she said.
“And it’s important I know what the hell is going on.”
“Ma’am, with all respect, answer the question.”
“He’s in Gerlach.”
“Where?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Now can you tell me what kind of pandemic we are dealing with here because I know damn well that nothing spreads this fast unless…”
The colonel was quick to cut her off. “The kind that will wipe out civilization if we don’t find your husband.”
She stared back at them, confused but also frustrated that they were withholding. “What the hell does Miles have to do with it?”
They looked at each other, and Dr. Graham sighed.
Jenna’s gaze bounced between the two of them.
“Please. I’m a doctor for God’s sake. Tell me and maybe I can help.”
“Your husband may be able to stop it because he had a hand in starting it.”
Thirteen - Bowling
Miles rode shotgun in the Mustang as another military helicopter soared overhead. Seeing the military in the air should have given him a sense of peace but instead he felt only dread. How on earth would they reel this in?
The thought of bombing the town entered his mind but he didn’t want to think they would go that far, at least not without trying to get people out first.
But did it matter now?
In a span of almost seventy-two hours, Gerlach had been overtaken by brutality and death. Those who were sick were attacking anyone who wasn’t and he still wasn’t sure why. What was driving it? And how many other cities around America were in a similar position?
Confused. Desperate. Scared.
He tried to place himself in the shoes of the POTUS, under the gun to make decisions over who lives and who dies.
Did the president have the power to pull the trigger and wipe out cities to avoid a contagion spreading?
Spreading?
He hadn’t seen one person who was infected that wasn’t a burner, which meant either the virus wasn’t contagious or it hadn’t reached a stage of where it was. Every contagious disease went through five phases: incubation, prodromal, illness, decline and convalescence.
“That’s the third helicopter in ten minutes,” Nate said.
“About time,” Molly added, swerving down a dirt road that would allow them to avoid the streets which were clogged with cars, most of which they assumed had come from Burning Man as there were far too few residents in Gerlach with vehicles to create this kind of jam. It was hard to see signs of life anywhere. Every now and then they would see panicked residents dart across the street taking refuge inside cars, or buildings, anywhere to escape those who were attacking.
“Shit, and I was just about to enjoy this,” Wayne said while adjusting the grip on his rifle. “You think they would take offense to me laying down some lead on the infected before they save the day?”
“I don’t think they’re here to save the day,” Miles said.
“Well of course they are,” Molly protested.
Miles looked at her but didn’t want to go into it.
The Mustang screeched around a corner right into the path of a pack of burners who were savagely beating a man while a woman screamed from inside a vehicle as the rest attempted to smash their way in. Eyes shot in their direction at the sound of the engine, and several broke away and burst into a sprint heading for them.
“Back up,” Miles said.
“No, hit the gas,” Wayne said, bringing the window down and leaning out with his rifle. Nate followed suit on the other side.
“Molly.”
She revved the engine a few times and adjusted her grip.
“They’ll kill that woman.”
“M
olly.”
Her foot drove to the floor at the same time Wayne and Nate unleashed a flurry of rounds on either side to weaken the wall of bodies. Bullets tore into those coming at them, taking them down like dominos. The Mustang burst forward at a high rate of speed, the back end whipping out as the engine roared before Molly straightened it out.
“Hold on, folks,” she yelled.
The slap of metal was deafening as the car made contact with the group. Two burners bounced up, smashed into the windshield and rolled over the top, while others were crushed beneath the tires. It was like hitting bowling pins. By the time they were through, the windshield was covered in blood, and the road behind a mangled mess.
Brakes screeched as she lost control and slammed into a parked Suburban, causing the whole vehicle to slide out and smash sideways into another abandoned truck.
Miles lurched forward in his seat, his seatbelt saving him from smashing his forehead into the dashboard. He groaned and looked over at Molly who was slumped over the steering wheel with a gash on her forehead.
More groans came from the back seat. “I think I swallowed my tongue,” Hal muttered.
Miles unbuckled. “Hey Molly. Molly!”
“Ugh, guys, you might want to get going. They’re coming.”
Miles scanned the mirrors and saw a knot of burners coming their way.
“Shit. Hey. Hey. Molly.”
He pulled her back.
“Nate. You’ll have to hold them off while I…”
Right then Molly started coughing, her eyes blinked and she looked at Miles. “What the…”
“Start the vehicle,” he bellowed. “Come on.”
She didn’t have time to register what had happened. She turned the key over and the engine spluttered.
“No, no, no. C’mon.” Molly hit the steering wheel before gritting her teeth in pain.
Nate tried to get out but his door was jammed. He brought up a handgun and fired a round to shatter the window before crawling out up onto the roof. Wayne pushed out the other side, while Hal opened fire through the back window. Rounds erupted, an angry chorus of gunfire while Molly tried without success to get the vehicle to start.
It coughed a few times but the front end looked like an accordion.
“Forget it.”
“No, I’ve got this.”
“Molly, forget it. Let’s go.” He tugged on her arm and she crawled over and exited through his door. They stumbled out and joined the fight.
“Move it!” Miles yelled to the others as more burners approached. It was unlike anything they’d seen, ten, twenty, there were too many. As soon as one went down, another replaced it. Miles had to switch off the medical side of him that told him these people could be helped. In that moment, the only ones that needed help were them.
They turned and sprinted up Fir Street, down the side of homes, through backyards, doing their best to shake their pursuers or at least find safety, but there was little time to even pinpoint a home or business that could offer refuge.
It was Abe and Grady in the end who saved them from certain death.
“Miles!”
His head turned to the right to an eighteen-wheeler trailer. Grady had the back open, he was beckoning them over. They jumped a chain-link fence, crossed through the rear yard of a home and across an open lot. There they climbed up one by one, then slammed the door behind them closed and locked it from the inside.
Inside it was pitch dark and smelled like stale milk.
Their escape wasn’t clean — they’d been seen — but what they didn’t know upon entry was Abe was still on the outside ready to distract the burners. Miles never saw what he did but Grady told them they’d found an Army truck a few streets over. They were on their way to Wayne’s place when they witnessed the commotion, that’s when Abe instructed Grady on what to do.
One moment a crowd was trying to get into the trailer, the next it went quiet.
Hal went to the end of the trailer and pressed his ear against the door.
“Don’t open yet,” Grady said.
“I don’t hear anyone.”
“Yeah, well maybe they’re just waiting.”
“They’re not that smart.”
“You’re dealing with people. They might be sick but they haven’t lost their wits, or their ability to think. Hell, one of them carried a gasoline can into the school and lit the place on fire.”
“What?” Miles said. “Jenna.”
“Don’t worry, she made it out. So did my wife. The military took them.”
Miles let out an exasperated sigh. “Even worse.”
“Worse?” Molly asked. “How could it be any worse than this?”
Miles squinted trying to make out her face.
“Well I can tell you how much better it could be than this, if you hadn’t plowed into those people. What the hell were you thinking?” Miles said.
“Oh, I’m sorry I tried to prevent them from killing that woman.”
“Well did you save her?” he asked. “That’s right, you don’t know because we were too busy saving ourselves.”
It went quiet.
Although he could barely make out her face in the darkness, he knew she was scowling. Miles heard her put some distance between them. “Grady. Is Abe coming back?”
“He told me to stay here until it was clear and then head over to the nearest house.”
“And of course we don’t know if it’s clear until…”
Before Miles could finish, Wayne cracked the door wide. “Huh, no one out here.”
“Nice, Wayne. Nice!” Nate said brushing past him but shaking his head.
“You’re welcome.” He hopped down and they double-timed it over to a two-story home nearby that had a plush green lawn. It almost looked out of place in a desert but there were many homes like that, areas of grass planted by owners to give them a false sense of having more than desert for a yard. There was an ornamental windmill out front, an American flag flapping from a pole, and a couple of Adirondack deck chairs to the side of the home.
Inside, it looked as if it had been abandoned by the owners but a glance at a photo frame on the counter and they realized it belonged to Abe.
“Close the doors,” Grady said going around to each of the windows and pulling the curtains too. “I see you managed to get your hands on some weapons.”
Miles removed a rifle slung around his back and offered it to him. “I’m using a handgun.”
“I don’t know how to use that. I’m a lawyer.”
“You point at the bad guys and press the trigger, it’s not rocket science,” Wayne said while he stood by the window and pulled back the curtain to look out.
“I hope he makes it back as that Mustang is a write-off.” Hal glanced over at Molly who walked into the kitchen to avoid his glare. Miles turned on the faucet and filled a tall glass with water and chugged it down like he was putting out an internal fire. He set the glass down and she did the same. Neither one said anything but he realized she was pissed off. “Look. About what I said.”
Molly replied, “I heard you the first time. No need to repeat.”
“I’m just trying to come to grips with killing. Okay? My job has always been focused on solutions to save humanity, not kill it.”
“Yeah, well, Miles, not everything in life is clear cut and black and white, and we don’t always get what we want.”
He had a sense she was speaking about something more but before he could ask, they heard a truck pull up outside and a door slam. “It’s him, open the door,” Grady said. Miles walked into the living room as Abe entered the house.
“Everyone accounted for?”
“Alive and well,” Wayne said, helping himself to a cigar from a box beside a recliner. Abe glared at him but didn’t stop him. There were more important matters pressing — the military and Hal, and he knew it.
Hal piped up. “Look, I’m sorry to have dragged you all into this.”
“We chose to go with you,” N
ate replied. “Don’t beat yourself up.”
“That truck out there, you think I can use it?” Hal asked.
“You can,” Abe said. “How far you get is another question entirely.”
“Out of gas?”
“It is now. The damn thing rolled into here on fumes. I’m lucky I didn’t get stuck out there. Those burners are a persistent bunch.”
“Why didn’t they use their vehicles?” Nate asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Grady, you said they haven’t lost their ability to think.”
“I didn’t say that. I have no idea how they think. But they do seem aware to some extent of what they’re doing. Carrying a gasoline can, talking, attacking, opening doors, all of this requires some processing of the brain and yet one look at them and you can see they’re sick.”
“Neurological damage,” Miles explained. “Think of it like a tumor growing inside the skull, pressing down on the brain. A person doesn’t necessarily lose their motor function or ability to talk, or move, or even think. It doesn’t happen overnight but eventually, one by one, areas will stop working at the same level they did before. Headaches, seizures, cognitive decline, trouble with balance and coordination, personality changes, hearing loss, weakness of muscles and vision changes are just a few of the symptoms that will show up but they don’t happen all in one go.” The others stared at him. “We are dealing with people who are fighting a sickness, some maybe more than others.”
“You think I can use the drone?” Hal said pointing to what Grady had with him.
“Power is low. We’d need to charge it, and you’d need to be within a close distance if you’re thinking of using it to find your daughter.”
Hal slumped down into a chair and brought a hand to his head.
The bleak reality was beginning to set in.
Reaching Black Rock City wasn’t going to be easy or even possible.
Thats when Abe chimed in. “There is one way we could get eyes in the sky.”
