THE BLACK
Outbreak
Paul E Cooley
Copyright 2016 by Paul E Cooley
For Brent:
For late nights, for darts, for games,
for endless conversations.
For friendship.
Book 1: The ER
Chapter 1
She hated driving in the rain. Dr. Jennifer Harrel turned on Cambridge off of South Main, her car splashing up water that hit the windshield in a wave. The pouring rain made visibility bad enough, but driving through the water pooling in the low spots made it worse. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she was on the phone with the boss.
“We have alerted Homeland, and they’ll make a determination of how much help we get.”
“Great,” Jennifer said. “Any idea what that’s going to look like?”
“All depends,” the gravelly voice said. “I’ll be on a plane in the next three hours headed to join you.”
Goddammit, Jennifer thought. Just what we need. When was the last time you were in a goddamned hotspot?
“Understood,” she said instead. “Boss? We need to make sure we don’t have any military under foot. Unless they know what they’re doing, it’d be best if they stayed the hell away from the scene.”
“Agreed.” Something scratched and then thunked at the other end of the line. Jennifer winced at the pop through her car’s speakers. “Sorry. Dropped the phone.”
Jennifer rolled her eyes. “No problem, sir.” Except for my broken eardrums.
Barely visible signs for the Houston Zoo and Kipp Aquarium showed up in her headlights. Jennifer didn’t even notice. She was focused on what had to be done when she arrived.
“What’s the ETA on the ambulance?” she asked.
“Fifteen minutes. We rerouted them after the alert.”
“Why didn’t we dispatch the ambulance to the center at the airport?”
“Too far away. My understanding,” the boss said, “is she’ll be dead long before they get there.”
Jennifer nodded. “I take it the folks at Ben Taub know what’s coming?”
“They should already have the quarantine preparation under way. You’ll have to check in with their ER supervisor and make sure they have what they need.”
“They better. They’ve had the protocols and the supplies for well over six months.”
The boss sighed. “Right. But you know how it goes.”
“Indeed I do, sir.” How it goes, she thought, is that they either didn’t pay attention during training, didn’t come up to speed on the new equipment, or just plain forgot how to do it. Great.
“Is there anything else you need, Jennifer?”
She thought for a moment and put on her blinker. It was difficult concentrating on his voice, the road, and the billions of thoughts cartwheeling through her mind. “Yeah. I need the communications up pronto. We dispatched Hoyt’s team to HAL, and they should be there in another 20 to 25 minutes. I want to make sure we’re not going to have any snafus here.”
“Agreed.” The gravelly voice cleared its throat. She could see him now, sitting up in his bed or at a desk in his Maryland house jotting down notes and still brushing the crusties out of his eyes. She knew how he felt. “If you think of anything that the Houston office doesn’t have, you contact me immediately.”
“Understood, boss.”
“Be careful with this one, Jennifer. This isn’t Liberia. If we have an outbreak, there’s three or four million people that could drop dead in a day.”
Yeah. Please remind me again, she thought. “Will do, boss.”
“Good luck. I expect a situation report in an hour.”
“You’ll have it.”
One final grunt of agreement uttered over the speakers and then the phone call ended. Jennifer sighed and turned on to Taub Loop and stared at the sprawling hospital. She followed the signs to the “Emergency Care” area.
They were going to get lucky. The ER/Trauma Center parking lot was practically empty. So long as the ambulances hadn’t been delivering gunshot and car-wreck victims all night, the ER staff would only have to relocate a few dozen patients to other parts of the hospital. But if the trauma ward had surgeries under way, they were going to have to work around them.
Jennifer parked her car near the back of the lot and stepped out into the rain. Drops of water quickly pattered against her black T-shirt and jeans. Damn. She should have worn a coat or a sweater. Something. Just hadn’t been time.
When the call came in, she was in bed with her lover just about to go to sleep. They’d already showered, toweled off, and were tangled in each other’s arms beneath the sheets. With a groan, she’d rolled over and checked the phone. The message header told her everything she needed to know and she’d kissed him one last time before jumping out of bed to get dressed.
And that had been a whole 20 minutes ago. Jennifer yawned and grabbed her backpack from the passenger seat. She hadn’t dried her hair before heading to bed and now she was glad she hadn’t.
She closed the door and moved to the trunk as fast as she could. She quickly opened it, pulled out her tackle box, and her CDC jacket. She shuffled into the jacket, cursing as rain stained the inner lining. With it zipped up, she pulled the hood over her head, locked the car, and headed to the ER entrance.
A stone facade hung over the ambulance and car loop leading into the ER. As soon as she was within sight of the huge sliding glass doors, she smiled grimly. A plastic yellow tunnel, wide and tall enough for a large man to walk through while carrying gear, jutted out onto the pavement from the left side of the doors. A gust of wind blew a sheet of rain across her. The tunnel crinkled and rattled against the pavement, its entrance wobbling in the wind.
She made a mental note they needed to be careful not to rip the outer edge. The tunnel was there so they could take patients directly from ambulances into the quarantine area without risking exposure to non-medical personnel. When the CDC truck arrived, and presumably her team, it was going to get awfully crowded in the parking lot rather quickly. She had to make sure things in the ER were set up as fast as they could be.
Jennifer walked through the right side of the doors beside the tunnel and through another set of sliding glass doors. A man wearing a white lab coat over blue scrubs stood near the entrance. The tall, brown-skinned man’s close-cropped gray hair accentuated the silver frames of his glasses.
“Dr. Harrel?” the man asked as she approached.
Jennifer nodded. “Dr. Sharma?”
He smiled and held out a hand. She shook it. He looked over her shoulder and frowned. “You’re the only one here?”
“Uh, so far. The rest of the team is a few minutes out. So is our gear.” She pointed past him to where the tunnel entered a large room across the hall. “Is that our set up?”
He turned and followed her finger. “Yes. Yes, it is. I’ll give you the tour. Want me to take that?” He gestured to her tackle box.
“No, thank you. I’ve got it. Although some coffee wouldn’t go amiss.”
“Of course. Follow me.”
They headed further inside Ben Taub’s ER and trauma area. Jennifer peered at the people sitting on the uncomfortable green chairs against the wall. Several of them had expressions of worry on their faces. Others looked dazed.
“What are you going to do with the other patients?”
Dr. Sharma didn’t bother turning around or attempting to glance at her. “We’re moving them. We’re getting a triage area ready upstairs in the main hospital and then we’re going to lockdown the annex.”
“Good,” Jennifer said. “How soon is that going to happen?”
A nurse appeared from an intersecting hallway and handed a clipboard to Sharma. He took it wi
thout breaking his long stride. “Within the next 20 minutes or so. Have to make sure we have things set up and move our equipment over there.”
“I need to check the tunnel,” Jennifer said.
Doctor Sharma nodded. “I figured.”
The slight Indian man headed out the double doors to the tunnel entrance. Jennifer followed.
The composite rubber, neoprene, and plastic tunnel was reinforced with aluminum ribs. It was made to withstand some abuse, but not too much. As they walked through the tunnel to the other end, she visually checked for tears or rips. The tunnel looked pristine.
Doctor Sharma pushed through one set of chemically treated flaps and then another set at the room’s threshold. Jennifer stopped just inside the room. She stroked a nozzle for the portable chem shower hanging just outside the door. They have their shit together. She pushed through the final tunnel flap and into the room.
The room was furnished with seven gleaming steel tables, each with its own mobile, heavy plastic curtain. Oxygen cylinders stood against the far wall. Masks, an entire crate of disposable gloves, blankets, and sheets were piled up next to them.
“Dr. Harrel?” Sharma had walked to the wall with the equipment and turned to her.
“Sorry,” she said and pointed to the beds. “Is this all you have?”
He bit his lip. “For now. If we need more, we can move them up from the basement. We were told there would only be four possible infected patients coming?”
“Correct.” Jennifer walked to the wall, dropped her backpack and tackle box, and pushed them into a safe corner. “I think this room is large enough.”
A grin slowly spread across his face displaying ivory teeth. “Good. We can’t move you into the trauma center yet. Afraid we have two surgeries ongoing.”
She cursed under her breath. “I was afraid of that.” Jennifer pointed up at the air vents in the ceiling. “Can you seal those off? If this vector is airborne, we don’t want to give it a chance to get through there and infect anyone else.”
“We already shut it off, Dr. Harrel.”
She smiled at him, but knew it probably looked more like a grimace. The damned patients weren’t here yet and already she was ready for this to be over. “I’ll make sure and tell my boss Ben Taub was well prepared and ready for us.” The man blushed. “Now,” she said, “how about that coffee?”
*****
Fortunately, the ER staff had a good coffee maker and they brought her a steaming cup of strong coffee with two sugars and one creamer. Compared to the filth they had at her office, it was heaven.
Jennifer managed to get four sips down her throat before her radio squawked on her belt.
“Mathis to Harrel. Come in. Over.”
She pulled the small, rectangular box from her belt and pressed the talk button. “Harrel. Go.”
“ETA five minutes. Will you be ready for us? Over.”
“Ready and waiting. Over and out.”
“Mathis out.”
She put the radio back on her belt and took another sip. Damn, but their coffee was good.
“Excuse me, Doctor.”
She turned and faced Sharma. His forehead slick with sweat, cheeks flushed, the man looked as though he’d run a marathon. “Yes?”
“Your team is almost here?”
“Yeah.” She turned and looked through the yellow tunnel and into the main hospital area beyond. She pointed down the hallway. “You haven’t closed that yet?”
“We’re working on it.” As if on cue, a nurse hurriedly wheeled a patient into the hallway. A number of portable beds and examination tables clogged the main hall. “There’s about five more emergency cases we need to send to the third floor, but we’ve already sent word that no more ambulances should come here. Also, we’ll be posting a security guard outside with a list of alternatives for any walk-ins or drive-ins.”
“Good,” Jennifer said. The coffee drizzled down her throat and warmed her belly. With the hospital doors open and the rain coming down in sheets, the air had cooled considerably. Before long, the ER and Trauma Center would get damned cold. She held up a finger. “Just to let you know, we’re expecting some HPD officers in the next hour. They’ll help take care of any crowd control.”
Sharma raised his eyes. “Police? We have our own security.”
“Just a precaution, Doctor. How long before you evacuate the rest of the patients from this area?”
“Ten minutes.”
“Good.” Jennifer started walking to the doors. “I’m heading outside to meet my team.”
“Okay,” Sharma said from behind.
When she strolled through the outer doors, the wind whipped moisture at her. The facade protected her from the sheets of rain, but her CDC jacket beaded with water. Going to have to dry everything off before we get set up. Another complication. That was all they needed.
They were going to have precious little time to set up before the ambulance arrived. She’d have to get dressed in record time and so would her staff. Sharma had said it would take them ten minutes to clear the ER. She hoped he’d given them some wiggle room. Ten minutes might be too long.
Chapter 2
Calling it a van was disrespectful. Calling it a truck was too. It was more like an RV crammed with supplies, portable testing units, and none of the comforts of home.
Dr. Richard Mathis sat in the passenger seat drinking his second energy drink. The stuff sizzled on his tongue and down his throat where it turned his stomach into a cauldron of fizz. Heartburn was inevitable, but so what? He could catch something that could kill him. What was a little heartburn compared to that?
Drills, drills, and more drills. And for what? For this moment. Ever since the Ebola epidemic in Africa, then the Dengue Fever outbreak in Florida, not to mention the many rumors and doomsday warnings floating on the internet, the CDC and Homeland Security had been outfitted to handle multiple viral/bacteriological scenarios.
Cities like Houston, Chicago, LA, and, of course, NYC, had a larger CDC presence than say Austin or Poughkeepsie. But if you weren’t in Atlanta, you were a scrub. At least that was the attitude of those working in Atlanta. Mathis had worked there once upon a time. Couldn’t say he missed it either. Too many politics for his liking and not enough trips to the field.
Since he’d joined the Houston CDC, he’d traveled to possible infection zones at the Mexican border in Del Rio, Laredo, and El Paso. And that didn’t even begin to address all the times he’d been helicoptered to a ship on its way to the Port of Houston, or walked up a gangplank to a freighter filled with sick stowaways.
But this? This was different. H-Town had its very own vector. The briefing had been sparse, but exciting. Some chemist had accidentally cut herself on a barrel shipped from Papua/New Guinea. That in itself led to all sorts of exotic possibilities.
By the sounds of it, it wasn’t the dreaded Kuru. That was a prion disease made almost extinct due to the cannibals of old sliding off into history. Besides, Kuru didn’t incubate this fast. No, what they had was something really cool. He couldn’t wait to study it.
Of course, the real pain in the ass would be if they got all dressed up for nothing. If this turned out to just be a case of necrotic fasciitis, a rather uninteresting and pedestrian vector, he was going to be pissed. He hoped against hope it was something new, or at least something he’d never seen before. That would make getting out of bed this late worth it.
Jennifer Harrel, his boss, was already on the scene. That was fine with him. He liked loading up the “mobile command center” and making sure all the personnel were at base and accounted for. The team had standing procedures and orders for how to prepare for a potential hot-zone. All Harrel had to do was send out the notification and everyone converged at base.
Converge. He liked that word. When he first joined the CDC, he’d hoped for a situation like in the movie Outbreak or like the books detailing the hemorrhagic fever epidemics in the 70s and 80s. Instead, it was mostly going over reports, l
ooking for disease patterns, warning the local yokels, and dispelling rumor and panic. Boring shit.
A pickup truck sped by them, ignoring their lights and siren, and flung a wave of water over the cab. Hurtado, the driver, muttered under his breath.
“I’m sorry,” Mathis said with a smile, “what was that?”
“Fucktard,” Hurtado said. His eyes stayed on the road as he struggled to see through the falling rain.
“That’s what I thought you said.”
Hurtado glanced down at the coffee sitting in the cup holder with longing, and then dragged his eyes back to the road. “This is bullshit, Mathis.”
“How do you mean?” he asked and finished the energy drink. He filled the cab with a sonorous belch and crumpled the aluminum can.
Hurtado shook his head. “Getting us out of bed for another circle jerk.”
“Oh, lighten up. This could be something interesting.” Mathis cleared his throat and picked up the briefing clipboard. “Low stats. Plummeting body temperature. Severe dermal necrosis.” He put it back down on his lap and grinned. “This sounds yummy.”
“You are one sick fuck, you know that?”
Mathis saw the sign for Ben Taub. His stomach buzzed with excitement. Or maybe that was just the two energy drinks finally dissolving his stomach lining. “There,” he said, and pointed at the ER sign.
“Yeah, genius,” Hurtado said. “I see it.”
“No need to get pissy.”
“Pissy.” Hurtado grunted. “You’re going to need to do that before you finish suiting up.”
“And you’re not?”
Hurtado swung the large vehicle into the ER parking lot, checked the facade’s clearance, and pulled in. As soon as the vehicle stopped, Mathis grabbed the door handle. Through the droplets clinging to the window, he saw Harrel standing just outside, a cup of coffee in her hands.
Hurtado put the command center in park and turned the ignition to “auto.” If the batteries in the on-board generator started draining too fast, the vehicle would turn itself on to keep the juice going.
The Black: Outbreak Page 1
