“The 2008 outbreak?” Kim’s brow furrowed, thinking Dr. Flannery must be mistaken. “I don’t remember that one.”
“You can’t Google it. It’s still classified, although I’m not sure any of that matters now.”
Kim’s jaw dropped before she clamped it shut again. It shouldn’t surprise her that the government might have buried an outbreak, or several, given how the mainstream media outlets blew news out of proportion.
Tom took a quick left into an observation room and came to stand in front of a large window with his hands clasped behind his back. Kim followed, albeit more hesitantly. The observation section was a thin rectangle of space with only room to stand. The patient’s section was wide and brightly lit. An enormous examination table sat in the center of the room with the patient resting on top, arms at her sides. Vital monitors stood around the head of the table, and Kim saw that the patient seemed stable but for an elevated pulse.
Kim’s eyes lowered to the woman. She gasped and retreated a step. Then she returned to the glass and tried to see the patient with a scientific eye.
Tom had changed the woman into a patient’s gown, had rested her head on a pillow, and combed her hair back from her head. A breathing tube protruded from her mouth. Several thin, crimson mycelium threads grew upward to twist around the apparatus. Dark fuzzy patches spotted her mouth and sprung from her nose, and there was even some reddish fuzz coming out of her ears and growing across her earlobes.
“Damn.” Kim gulped. “It’s...it’s unbelievable.”
“That’s what I meant when I said you’d know if you had it.”
“What’s her name?”
“Samantha Rogers. She was one of our low-level lab techs. Good tech. Always on the spot when you needed her.”
Kim swallowed hard as the unfairness of it all hit her in the gut. “We can save her.”
“We’re sure going to try,” Tom said. “I need you to finish that last mapping, then we’ll start administering the solutions.”
“Consider it done.” Kim set her jaw and placed her hands against the glass.
Ten minutes later, Kim was in her new office sitting in front of three monitors that buzzed to life. She had a mini carafe of coffee and some energy bars at her side. It would take her another four hours to finish the last mapping, and the faster she got started, the faster she would be done.
Kim pulled her long brown hair through a soft ponytail holder and got into her work. She paused, wanting to give her husband a call before she plunged down the rabbit hole.
She clicked the phone icon on her desktop and called Bishop. Her speakers made a faint buzzing noise and then bleated a disconnected tone. Kim’s eyebrows furrowed. While she hoped it was just temporary, she knew full well it could be a permanent disconnection, and she might not talk to her husband and kids for an unknown length of time.
She tried her parents and brother next. The three lived close together in Fayette County, just outside of Lexington, Kentucky. None of them picked up.
“I should have called them sooner,” Kim said with a disappointed note.
A tear ran down her cheek, and emotions threatened to overwhelm her. She was used to being away from her family for a week or two at a time. The job demanded it. But the world had become dangerously unstable, and the chances of things returning to normal were fading with every passing hour.
Fist clenched on her desk, Kim promised herself that she would see her family again. But she had a duty to fulfill, a responsibility to the remaining citizens of the United States, of the world, and those she loved.
Kim wiped the tear off her face and plunged into her work.
Chapter 26
Jessie Talby, somewhere in Pennsylvania
Jessie sat in the crew section of the UH-1N Iroquois as they flew over the rolling Pennsylvania landscape toward Washington. Jessie wore a communications headset, though she was less interested in the radio chatter and more focused on keeping Fiona comfortable.
The girl clung to Jessie’s arm, wide-eyed but curious as she looked through the windows at the sky. Jessie and Fiona were the only two in the expansive crew area, and Jessie swallowed down a lump of nervousness in the seemingly haunted space.
In the rush to get Fiona to Washington, the UH-1N had set down after another mission long enough to get the two onboard before taking to the skies once more.
Once airborne, only the high whine of the engine filled her head, broken up by the occasional pilot to base chatter.
Jessie leaned over toward the girl and flashed her a hesitant smile. “Have you ever ridden in a helicopter before?”
The little girl shook her head.
“It’s pretty cool, huh?”
Fiona continued shaking her head, exaggerating the movement.
“I’m so sorry, Fiona,” Jessie tried to apologize. “I promise we’re going someplace safe.”
“Where?”
“Washington DC,” Jessie said. “Ever heard of that?”
Fiona hadn’t stopped shaking her head yet, and Jessie’s latest question didn’t stop her.
“Well, Washington is pretty cool. A lady named Kim Shields wants to see you. I don’t know her...Well, I know of her. We work in the same department.”
Fiona lifted her face to Jessie, eyes narrowed with trouble.
Jessie realized Fiona wasn’t actually looking at her but a trail of smoke wafting through the cabin. Jessie raised her eyes and detected more sooty smoke blasting in from cracks in the roof.
At the same time, the regular whine of the engine took on a strained note. The helicopter lifted and then dropped again, causing Jessie’s stomach to leap into her throat.
“What’s wrong?” Fiona asked,
“I don’t know.” Jessie cast her eyes toward the front of the aircraft where the pilot appeared to struggle with the stick. She pressed her finger to her earpiece to enable the talk function. “Pilot, is everything okay up there?”
“Keep the line clear, Talby.” The pilot sounded professional, though the tension in his voice caused Jessie’s stomach to twist again.
The pilot fought with the aircraft for another twenty seconds before his frantic call came over the radio waves. “Chopper One to base. Mayday. I repeat, Mayday...struggling...drive shaft malfunction...”
The helicopter stopped moving forward and hovered. After a pause, it spun to the right and then banked downward.
Fiona and Jessie shouted at the same time, and Jessie twisted and threw her arms around the girl. The chopper spun faster until Jessie had no doubt they were going down.
Teeth clenched against the incredible spinning G-forces, Jessie closed her eyes and squeezed the girl tighter. “Hold on, Fiona! I’ve got you!”
They hit with a jarring impact, causing Jessie to grunt as the wind was driven from her lungs.
Just hold on to the girl, she thought, hold on with everything you’ve got.
Jessie and Fiona dragged the helicopter pilot away from the burning wreckage, still dazed with disbelief.
“Come on!” Jessie looked up to see Fiona grunting in her air filtration mask as she jerked at the pilot’s jump suit while Jessie held the man below his shoulders and pulled using her back and legs. “Just a few more yards.”
It probably wasn’t right to move him, especially if he had a neck injury, but they had to get him away from the wreckage in case the chopper blew up.
“Okay, this is good,” Jessie said after they’d dragged the pilot to a clear patch of long grass where no Asphyxia grew. She eyed the helicopter where the fire licked up higher from the engine. “I’ll get my pack out of there.”
“No, stay here,” Fiona whined, grabbing her hand.
Jessie knelt down next to the girl. “That’s got my water system and other things we’ll need. I’ll be right back.”
She sprinted toward the burning helicopter and climbed up into the crew area through the partially open side door. Her pack was laying between the seats along with some other gear. Jessie s
tarted to unbuckle the pack, though she struggled with one buckle where the prong was bent.
“Jessie, the fire is getting higher!” Fiona shouted. “Hurry!”
Jessie heard the flames kick up, and the smoke grow thicker. In her mind, she saw herself blowing up, her body flying into a thousand pieces as shrapnel tore through her. Her fingers bent the prong straight, and she unbuckled the gear and removed it.
Sprinting back to Fiona, Jessie turned just as the engine casing sputtered and blew outward, sending bits of debris into the air as Jessie pulled Fiona down. It wasn’t the huge explosion Jessie had imagined, though she could have been hurt or killed if she’d lingered another moment.
Once the debris settled, Jessie crawled over to the pilot and checked his injuries. He bled from a shoulder wound where a piece of shrapnel had become lodged, yet his pulse was still strong. His respirator remained on his face, though the faceplate had a crack.
Glancing up through her air filtration mask at the aircraft where it rested partially on its nose, Jessie couldn’t believe they’d survived.
The irony of their fate stung Jessie. It wouldn’t be Asphyxia that killed them, but some equipment malfunction. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise given the reduced crews and their stress levels over the past seventy-two hours.
The pilot must have done some amazing flying to save them, slowing the helicopter’s descent to bring them even with the ground before they pitched forward onto their nose.
All Jessie remembered was waking up and facing the ground, smoke drifting past her visor, and Fiona’s faint whimpering.
“What do we do now?” Fiona asked, her visor smudged with black soot.
“Good question,” Jessie said, and she had her first proper look around. It was late afternoon, and the sky was blue with patches of ominous clouds. They’d crashed at the edge of a long field with a farmhouse and barn several hundred yards away. She checked her pockets for her satellite phone but found it empty. She remembered it had been resting in her lap when the helicopter started going down. It either remained in the burning wreckage or had gotten lost in the crash. She’d come back and search for it later.
“I think we should get the pilot to that farmhouse,” Jessie said, nodding to the other side of the field.
“That’s pretty far.”
“Maybe not. Come on.” Jessie shouldered her pack, took Fiona by the hand, and led her toward the farmhouse and barn. Jessie had traded in her heavy protective gear for something a little lighter—high-grade Tyvek coveralls and a full faceplate respirator.
Once they reached the farmhouse, Jessie climbed up the deck to the sliding glass door in the back. There were only faint streaks of Asphyxia on the wooden planking, and Jessie assumed the back of the house was sheltered from the wind.
She put her hand to the glass of the sliding door and peered inside. When she saw no one, she knocked and waited for someone to come. After a pause, Jessie pulled on the door handle and was grateful when it slid open.
“Hello, hello!” Jessie listened for footsteps, voices, or anything that might indicate someone occupied the home.
Not getting any response, Jessie led them toward the barn. Inside, she found just what she needed. A John Deere riding lawn mower with a small trailer sitting off to the side. The keys were still in the mower’s ignition, so Jessie hopped on, started it up, and tried to line it up with the trailer. It took a few attempts, but Jessie backed the mower up and connected the hitch.
“Wanna go for a ride?” Jessie asked.
“Sure!” Fiona cried out from behind her mask. While the girl had showed no signs of Asphyxia in her lungs, nose, mouth, or ears, Jessie wanted to keep the mask on her unless it was necessary to take it off. Some quick blood work back at the FEMA camp showed that while the Asphyxia fungus was present in her blood, it wasn’t affecting her like it was so many others. Jessie had to get Fiona to the CDC facility in Washington D.C.
She put Fiona and her pack into the trailer and looked around for a long board. She found a two-by-twelve and placed it into the trailer, telling Fiona to hold the board steady. Then she got behind the wheel and pulled out of the barn.
Jessie drove them across the bumpy terrain before stopping next to the injured pilot. Fiona hopped out and stood to the side while Jessie pushed her pack out of the way and slid the board off the trailer to make a ramp. She paused to check the man’s pulse before preparing to move him.
Getting her hands beneath the man’s shoulders and into his armpits, she lifted him and shoved off with her lead foot, dragging him up the ramp. Jessie wasn’t particularly athletic, although years of CDC field work had kept her in good shape, and she soon had him in the back of the trailer.
Jessie put Fiona in the back with the pilot and the board.
“You’re in charge,” she told the little girl. “Don’t let anything fall out.”
“I won’t.” Fiona placed one hand on the pilot’s chest and knelt on the board.
Jessie smiled and got back behind the wheel of the mower.
They drove even slower on the return trip, angling for the farmstead’s back deck which was only a few feet high.
She applied the same technique she’d used to get the man inside the trailer. Using the board to make a ramp up the stairs, Jessie dragged him up to the deck. She only realized they wouldn’t fit through the sliding glass door when she got to the top.
“Can you open the door a little wider?” she asked Fiona, not wanting to give up her grip, and the little girl squeezed past them and pulled the sliding door wider on its tracks.
Jessie got the man across the threshold and angled toward the living room. He was easy to get across the smooth tiles but was more of a challenge on the carpet. And there was a thick, wooden coffee table in the way.
“Fiona, can you move that table?”
“Yep.” The little girl hustled over, grabbed the table edge, and pulled with all her might. After two tugs, Fiona dislodged the piece of furniture from where its legs had settled into the carpet and dragged it out of Jessie’s way.
Sweating and panting, Jessie dragged the pilot across the carpet and leaned him against a floral, cloth-covered couch.
Jessie straightened, rested with her hands on her hips, and looked around. They were in a modest, well-kept home that appeared to have an older woman’s touch. The lamps looked like antiques, and pictures in cute old frames lined the walls.
Before she did anything else, Jessie returned to the trailer and grabbed her backpack. Once back inside the house, Jessie shut the door behind her. No spores lingered in the air, though she was sure they’d dragged some in with them. Jessie set her backpack down and removed a mold detection kit, placing it on the coffee table. She checked the pilot’s pulse again, noting that it seemed weaker than before.
A closer inspection of his wound revealed five inches of metal sticking out of his shoulder on the left side. It didn’t appear close to his heart or lungs, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t hit an important artery. Jessie stood up on shaky legs and moved down a long hallway to the bathroom. She knelt in front of the sink, opened the cabinet doors, and discovered several rolls of gauze and bandages.
“Jackpot,” Jessie said. She was about to call Fiona when she turned to see the girl standing in the doorway. “Here, take these things and put them on the coffee table.”
Fiona did as she was told while Jessie found some alcohol and peroxide. Back in the living room, Jessie cut the pilot’s flight suit off using a pair of heavy scissors she’d found in the garage, leaving the metal exposed. She dismissed removing the piece, since it would only make him bleed more. Instead, she cleaned around the wound and bound it tightly.
“I’m thirsty, Jessie,” Fiona said, plopping down in a nearby recliner.
“Me, too,” Jessie said. “I just want to test the air in here first. For the pilot.”
Jessie didn’t think there was any realistic way to create a clean room to work on the pilot’s injuries, and there was a
good chance Asphyxia had already gotten into his bloodstream. All Jessie could do was try to keep the man alive until they made it to the CDC in Washington.
“I can just take my mask off and get something to drink,” Fiona said, tugging at the plastic respirator strapped to her face.
“I know you can,” Jessie said, removing some collection tools from her mold kit. “But I’d rather you not unless we absolutely have to.” She peeled off the sticky backing from a collection slide and waved it in the air. She also took some samples from the walls around the sliding glass door.
Powering on her microscope, Jesse put the sample slides in one at a time and checked them. “Looks like we dragged in some bad stuff,” she confirmed with a frown. “It will settle out soon. In the meantime, let’s use our water tubes to get a drink.” Jesse pointed to the plastic tube that ran along the chin of her respirator. “Ever use one of these? It’s kind of spacey and cool.”
“Nope,” Fiona said, kicking her legs and looking more enthusiastic.
Jessie pulled out their water bottles from her pack. “Well come on over here. I’ll show you how it works.”
Chapter 27
Kim Shields, Washington, D.C.
“Kim, are you awake?”
Kim shifted on the mattress and rolled to a sitting position. Her eyes were bleary, and her brain was groggy, yet she stumbled to her feet and sat at her computer.
The clock above the monitor read Thursday, 8:37 p.m.
Kim groaned and lifted her eyes to her center computer monitor where the incoming call blinked. She clicked “Accept,” and Tom’s face popped up on the screen. “I’m here. Something wrong with the solution mappings I sent you?”
“No, not at all,” he replied. “The maps look great. After Alison runs her simulation, we’ll be able to produce enough solution to start full testing on Samantha as early as tomorrow morning.”
“What is it then?” Kim’s voice was rough, so she grabbed a half-empty bottle of lukewarm water and took a swallow.
“Birkenhoff’s assistant just called to let us know they are on the outskirts of the city, and I wanted to show you something before they arrived. Meet me in the control center.”
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