Mathis hit him in the shoulder. “Move it,” he said.
Hurtado groaned. “One of these days, I’m going to kick your ass, Mathis.”
Laughing, Mathis opened the door and jumped down to the parking lot. His jumpsuit, only partially zipped, flapped in the wind. He shut the door and walked to Harrel. “We ready?”
She blinked at him and then frowned. “Mathis? Are you always so happy this time of the morning?”
Mathis shrugged. “Why not? Finally get to do something interesting again.”
“Your ‘interesting’ is going to be here in a few minutes. Let’s get into this.” She tossed her coffee cup in the trash and walked to the back of the command center. Mathis followed.
The sound of squealing metal echoed beneath the facade. The large vehicle’s rear door’s opened as he and Harrel approached.
Hurtado stood, half dressed in a jumpsuit like Mathis, and staring into the lighted racks of suits. He pulled one of them out and offered it to Jennifer. “Here ya go, boss.”
She rolled her eyes and took the suit from him. The command center was completely sheltered by the overhang, but only just. The wind gusted and droplets of rain spattered their clothes. Jennifer cursed. “Helmet?”
Hurtado smacked his forehead and then pulled a helmet from the top of the rack. He checked the nameplate, nodded, and handed it to her. She took it and disappeared around the side of the truck.
“What about moi?” Mathis asked.
Hurtado wrinkled his nose. “Get your own damned clothes.”
“You know I outrank you, right?” Mathis said.
“So the hell what. Get your own shit.” Hurtado reached in and grabbed another suit and helmet. “I ain’t dressing your ass too,” he said and followed Jennifer.
Shaking his head, and chuckling, Mathis grabbed his suit and helmet. Through the roar of the wind and rain, he barely heard the sound of another engine. Mathis shut the doors and stared at the newcomer.
The vehicle was covered in CDC decals. He smiled. “Ah, the scrubs have arrived.” The support van. It carried three more doctors along with backup equipment. Mathis waved and then walked around the command center.
Jennifer, sans jumpsuit, had peeled off her water-laden CDC windbreaker and tossed it to the pavement. The jacket twitched in the wind. She struggled into her HAZMAT suit and zipped it up.
Hurtado was in the same shape, although he at least had a jumpsuit on. Jennifer was going to get mighty uncomfortable in those jeans. Maybe she’ll get a chance to get naked later. Mathis felt a second of shame, but only a second.
He zipped up his jumpsuit, expertly stepped into the hazmat suit, and fastened it. He held the helmet in his left hand, twirling it on two fingers.
Fully dressed, sans helmet, Jennifer walked to the support van. The three personnel were already out and getting dressed.
“Hey, Boss!” Mathis yelled over the wind and rain.
She turned around, eyebrows raised.
“You want Hurtado and me inside or outside?”
“Get inside. Get things ready. Let me know if anything’s missing!”
He gave her a thumbs up and pounded Hurtado on the back. “Let’s go, man. We got a hot one coming in.”
“Hot one,” Hurtado mused. “I had a hot one at home. This fucked that all up.”
“Don’t worry,” Mathis said. “I’m sure you’ll be able to perform after a 24 hour stifling stretch in that suit and facing microorganisms that could kill you.”
Hurtado’s Latino features paled. “Gee, thanks for reminding me.”
Cackling, Mathis walked beside the quarantine tunnel and into the hospital. A tall, Indian-looking doctor stood by the door.
“Hi. We have a reservation for six, preferably in the candle light room,” Mathis said.
“Sorry?” the doctor said.
“Ignore him,” Hurtado said. He held out a gloved hand. “I’m Dr. Hurtado. This is Dr. Mathis.”
“We’re here for infectious disease duty. Where’s the room?” Mathis asked, knowing damned well the tunnel led straight to it.
“Uh,” the doctor turned and pointed right where Mathis stared. “In there?”
“Great,” Mathis said. “And you are?”
“Dr. Sharma.”
“Awesome. Let’s see what you got.”
Chapter 3
She hated leaving Mathis unsupervised. At least Hurtado would keep him in line, to a certain extent. With any luck, those two wouldn’t freak out the Ben Taub staff too much. Then again, how much more freaked out could they get? They were used to gunshot wounds, car-wreck victims with smashed bones, and severe trauma to internal organs. They were not, however, familiar with deadly pathogens. It was one thing to watch a patient die and struggle to stabilize them, but quite another to do so while worrying you might catch what was killing them.
The other doctors, James Webb, Paul Ellis, and Veronica Giguerre, were suited up. Jennifer waited for them to finish. They knew the drill. They were just as qualified for this as anyone else and all three had been in hot-zones before. Hurtado was the only doc she was worried about. They’d find out in a few minutes how he handled his first major encounter with something deadly.
“Boss!” Veronica walked to Jennifer, helmet dangling from one hand, her lips smacking on chewing gum. “How we doing?”
“Good, V. I want you and Webb out here with me. We’re going to triage the folks in the ambulance and bring them inside. Mathis and Hurtado are already in the ER.”
She blew a bubble and then popped it with her tongue. “Okay. ETA?”
“Anytime now.”
“Shit.” Veronica turned and looked at Webb. “Didn’t even have time for coffee.”
“Get some at first break,” Jennifer said. “Ellis!”
The tall bearded man looked over.
“You’re in the command center handling coms.”
She wasn’t sure, but she thought he’d cursed. “Yes, ma’am.”
“We’ll have to run any tests in there too.”
Ellis’ scowl twitched and then turned into a contemplative smirk. “I can do that.”
Jennifer looked back at Veronica. “Well, Doctor. Finish getting dressed. They’re coming.”
*****
Ellis was glad to have command center duty. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was more than willing to sit in the heated RV, drink coffee, handle communications with Atlanta, and wait for something else to do. He could even catch a nap unless they brought him some test samples.
The moment he entered the command center and closed the door, he hit a switch. The air-tight seals bulged with a hiss. Now the vehicle was as safe from outside pathogens as it could get. More importantly? Nothing airborne could escape the vehicle.
It was too early to worry about something getting in, but Ellis wanted to make sure he was prepared anyway. If Harrel wasn’t going to put him on the front lines, he could at least protect himself from any accidents. He eyed the portable S.E.M. in the corner. Maybe he’d actually get to use it. More than likely, however, he’d just have to look at a plain old garden-variety bacterium. Ellis sighed.
One of the TV monitors flashed. He turned to it and watched an ambulance pull into the parking loop. Jennifer, Webb, and Veronica, helmets tight on their heads, gloves covering their hands, hurried to the back of the vehicle. The doors opened.
“Harrel, over.”
Ellis thumbed the mic on his radio. “Ellis. Go ahead.”
“We have four for quarantine. We’ll take them in, over.”
“Understood. Ellis out.”
Jennifer didn’t reply. Ellis turned off the mic and watched Webb and Veronica pull the stretcher from the ambulance. Even through the grainy video, the stains on the sheets covering the infected Ms. Krieger were visible.
Ellis frowned. Blood? Pus? What the hell was that?
He thought about radioing Jennifer to find out, but decided not to. Besides, she was talking to someone inside the ambulance. Presum
ably the guy from HAL, the laboratory where Krieger got infected.
Finally, Jennifer marched a nicely dressed young man from the ambulance and into the tunnel. A scowling EMT followed. The driver stepped out of the ambulance and ran to catch up with his colleague. Ellis shook his head. Where were the goddamned cops to help sort this shit?
As if on cue, a security guard walked out of the hospital entrance. He wore a black windbreaker with the hood over his head. Ellis made out the bulge of his service weapon on his left hip. Well, he thought, at least that’s something.
“Atlanta to Mobile Command. Over.”
Ellis clicked the mic. “This is Mobile Command. Dr. Ellis here. Over.”
A flash of lightning stroked the sky and a wave of static pounded through the speakers.
“—status, over?”
He glared at the speakers. “Say again, Atlanta. Have a bitch of a storm here. Over.”
“Understood, Ellis. What is your status? Over.”
He cleared his throat. “We have four going into quarantine. I have no data on the vitals or if there are any known infected besides Krieger, over.”
“Understood, Ellis. Hoyt and her team are headed to HAL. We expect HPD at your location soon. Over.”
“How soon? Over.”
The sky outside lit once more with lightning and another burst of static squelched from the speakers.
“ETA twenty minutes.”
Ellis groaned. “The doughnut shop backed up? Over.”
The dispatcher in Atlanta laughed. “Your so-called ‘bitch of a storm’ has caused localized flooding and a lot of car wrecks. They’re sending what they can when they can. Over.”
“Understood, Atlanta.”
“As soon as you have data, let us know. Over and out.”
“Out,” Ellis said and clicked off the mic.
HPD was late. Very late. Good thing everyone was cooperating so far. He glanced back at the monitor. The security guard was still out front, hands in the windbreaker’s pockets. The man turned and Ellis caught sight of his face. It was a damned kid. Couldn’t be older than 25. Shit, he thought, they certainly sent us the scrubs.
Ellis had a bad feeling about this. If the storm got much worse, they’d have a hell of a time getting in supplies or anything else they’d need. He wasn’t even sure a helicopter could safely fly in this mess. And the visibility? Awful.
He rose from his chair, stretched, popped a pod in the coffee machine, and put a disposable paper cup beneath the spout. As long as there weren’t any samples in the command center, he could eat and drink whatever he wanted. Within reason, of course. But for now, a cup of joe was exactly what the doctor ordered. He smirked. What I ordered.
When the coffee finished brewing, he sat back down in the chair, blew steam off the paper cup, and leaned back to take a sip. The speakers belched and he spilled some on his suit.
“Harrel to Command, over.”
Ellis put the coffee back down on the console and thumbed the mic. “Command. Go.”
“Krieger is in critical condition. The other three look good so far. We’re getting them prepped for testing. We shouldn’t need the equipment in the command center, but you should be ready anyway. Over.”
“Understood, Boss. Let me know if you need help with anything. Otherwise, I’ll just read the funny papers. Over.”
Pause. “Paul? This is really bad. I’ve never seen anything like this. We’ll send you video feeds as soon as Webb gets them set up.”
“How bad is it?”
“You wouldn’t believe what I just saw,” she said. “I don’t think Atlanta will either. Over.”
Ellis whistled. “I can’t wait. Atlanta has already called in. Hoyt’s team is headed to HAL. Should be there within the hour.”
“What about HPD?”
He rolled his eyes. “Atlanta says they’re coming. The storm is causing problems for everyone tonight.”
Pause. “Okay. Alert me when they get here. Out.”
“Out,” Ellis said. He picked up his coffee and took the first real sip. It didn’t end up on his suit this time. He was thankful for that.
He activated the remote video feeds. The monitors were blank. At least when Webb had everything set up, they should start getting pictures and the truck could start streaming to Atlanta. Everyone would get a gander. But he, Dr. Paul Ellis, had a front row seat.
Chapter 4
Maxwell wanted a cigarette. Instead of taking a break, he had been forced by Dr. Sharma to come up from the basement and stand guard at the front entrance. He would have told Carter to do it, but he’d wanted to get out of there and the smell of Carter’s farts.
Security was light tonight. Too many of his guards couldn’t even get to the damned hospital; the flooding was too bad. Carter was the only one in the control room, and the rest were wandering the main hospital halls on their rounds. If he needed to call them down, he would.
Sharma had said HPD was on their way to help out. Good. Let the real cops stand outside a damned quarantine zone. Maxwell turned his head and studied the tunnel. Its outer entrance flapped in the wind. He didn’t want to go anywhere near that thing, even if the plastic cover was supposed to keep anyone from being exposed. He didn’t trust it.
When he popped up from the basement stairs, they were bringing the stretcher through the tunnel. Although the yellow color obscured most of the detail, what he saw scared the shit out of him. The two moon-suited CDC personnel lugged the thing in like they were carrying a bomb. And on the stretcher? A too-pale face staring at the ceiling with vacant eyes. But it was the stains on the sheets that set him off.
When you worked security at Ben Taub, you saw it all. Shit, he’d had to disarm two gang members in the past year, handcuff another, and pull his weapon on a fourth. Luckily, he hadn’t had to use it.
If the shit hit the fan with this many people running around? He didn’t have the personnel to man all the stations. Worst of all, they didn’t have enough room downstairs if they had to detain anyone. Shitty night.
The radio on his collar beeped.
“Maxwell, this is Carter.”
“Go ahead.”
“Man, are you in a monsoon? I can barely hear you over the wind.”
“Carter? Cut the chatter. What’s up?”
“Perry’s running late, but he’s on his way in.”
Maxwell grunted. Perry was always running late. The storm just gave him a damned excuse. At least he’d be doing the rounds on floors five and six and out of the way. “As soon as the cops arrive, I’ll head back down to control.”
“Understood. Out.”
A gust of wind blew rain on him. He shivered. Jesus, but this storm was a nightmare. The strobing lights of the ambulance, the command center, and the other CDC van were giving him a migraine. When HPD showed up, he was certain it’d turn into a cluster headache. Just what he needed on a night like tonight.
Never going to let Carter eat Indian food again, he thought. Worst decision ever. Control room is going to smell like a curry fart for the rest of the goddamned night. Maxwell sighed. Eventually, he had to go back to the basement and wade into that stench.
The wind gusted again and ripped his hood back. Rain pattered into his closely cropped, curly hair. He reached up a hand and pulled it back down over his head. Another shiver wracked him. He knew it wasn’t exactly freezing, but goddammit, with the humidity, the wind, and the frigid rain, it might as well be 40°. Maxwell cast another longing glance into the ER. Whatever was going on there best sort itself out soon, or it was going to be a long goddamned night.
Chapter 5
Jennifer watched Webb standing over Darren Strange’s prone body. The man from HAL had removed his clothes and dressed in the traditional humiliation of a gown and hospital socks. His hair was an untidy corkscrew.
Webb held a syringe to Darren’s arm, siphoned more blood, and stepped back. He flipped open the curtain and walked out into the room without saying a word.
�
��You okay, Mr. Strange?”
Darren’s eyes locked with hers. “I’m a pincushion. How much more blood are you going to test?”
They had a dying woman in the room, five doctors in air-tight suits, two semi-uncooperative EMTs, and Darren Strange. He looked somewhat in shock, although his vitals were good, but he was worried about how much blood they were going to take?
“I’m sorry, Mr. Strange.” She managed to keep her voice even and tamp down the sarcasm. “We want to make sure there’s nothing wrong with you so we can get you out of here as soon as possible.”
He blinked. “How’s Marie?”
Yes, how was Marie? That was the tough one. How do you tell someone their friend is getting ready to die and there doesn’t seem to be a goddamned thing you can do about it?
She tried her best to keep her expression flat, but failed. “We’re doing everything we can for her. But it doesn’t look good.”
Darren shut his eyes. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“We have people going to HAL to check on the other personnel there.” The radio inside her helmet buzzed. She smiled at Darren. “We’re doing our best, sir. Excuse me.” She pulled the curtain closed around the portable bed and stepped into the main room. “This is Harrel. Go.”
“Ellis here. We have a squad car from HPD out front. They’re getting ready to come in.”
“Good. Tell them to set up right in front of the doors. No one in or out unless they’re with the hospital, CDC, or law enforcement. Over.”
“Acknowledged,” Ellis said. “I’ll step out for a moment to ask them nicely.”
“You got the video feeds up?”
“Yes, boss,” Ellis said. “Up and transmitting.”
“Good. Let me know of any problems.”
“Will do. Command out.”
Jennifer turned and looked back at the only non-curtained bed in the room. The blankets and sheets covering Marie were crusted and stained with dark fluid. Veronica stood by the bed, her fingers playing with something on the rolling table.
Veronica turned from the dying patient, a test tube of extremely dark blood held between her fingers like a bomb. She looked up and saw Jennifer. Even through the faceplate, Jennifer noticed her team member’s mingled expression of disgust and curiosity.
The Black: Outbreak Page 2
