Endemic Rise of the Plague
Page 9
“I think it may be a while, it’s already been forty-five minutes. Do you remember the people that they… killed over there?” Joe motioned across the carnival.
Slowly, Kate turned her head looking across the carnival. Her eyes eagerly scanned the blood soaked ground, finding no bodies left behind.
“Where are they?” She whispered with muddled look on her young face.
“They’re down there,” he pointed to the mob below. “They were attacked by those… things and then somehow became those things.”
He stood observing her, while giving her time to process the scene. He hated that he had to spell this out to her. Barely able to process the situation himself, Joe knew that unless his teenage daughter thoroughly understood the situation, that she would be immovable from the cart.
“I have a feeling that these things aren't going to be stopped here. Look, some of them are making their way down the street. I think that this may take the authorities a couple hours or more. I don't know about you, but I don't want to be here any longer than I have to. I want us to get as far away from them as we can. We definitely don't want to be here when they decide to start climbing up to us.”
Joe felt surprised at the level of self-control and patience in his voice. He actually wanted to reach in and yank her out, but he knew that patience and control is what Kate needed more than anything right now.
Kate hesitated. Her saucer–like eyes darted around the carnival a few times before frowning back at her father in despair.
“Okay, Dad. What are we going to do from where you are that we can't do here?” She loosened her grip, inching her way closer to him, a look of surrender in her brown eyes.
“We are going to slide down this pipe,” he tapped the perimeter pipe. “To the next cart down,” he leaned out a bit to glance at it again.
Peering over the edge of her cart, Kate shot an icy stare at Joe, “We'll be right on top of them!”
“Look again, Kate. We'll be out of their reach. They won't be able to get to us. From there, we’ll be in a better position to get out of here. Once we get down to that cart, we can try to come up with a diversion to distract them long enough to be able swing down and run. We can work with other riders on the distraction idea, but we have to be in a good position first or we’ll never have enough time.” He motioned to the other carts, with nearly all the riders climbing out onto the piping.
“Okay, I trust you,” she said with a huge sigh. “Just give me a sec.”
Shaking her head, Kate gradually slid all the way over in the cart, closer to Joe's position. Biting her bottom lip, she positioned her left hand on the back of the cart and her right on the safety bar as she progressively stood. She steadily let go of her rigid grip on the back of the cart, then extended a trembling hand toward her father. Joe inched closer to the perimeter steel, securing himself with his left arm above his head, wrapped around the steel. He stood with his back toward Kate, extending his right hand to her, twisting his body so that it mirrored hers. He firmly grasped her hand and let her take her time letting go of the safety bar.
At last, she found the courage to let go, extending her arm out to her side, helping to maintain her balance. She stepped up on to the edge of the cart and leapt to the parallel pipe, landing beside her father. She wrapped her arms around him like a koala bear to a tree as tears streamed down her face. Joe struggled to get his arm out of her air-tight embrace. They inched closer to where the perimeter and parallel pipes met, with Joe in the front and Kate still clutching his midsection from behind. Kneeling down, Joe sat on the parallel pipe, a leg dangling on either side. Kate meticulously duplicated his every move as though she were on the back of the motorcycle with him.
“You alright?” He angled his head over his shoulder.
“Uh-huh,” she nervously nodded.
“You’re doing great. Sweetie listen, I’m going to go first. Then I will be down there to help you into the cart. I need you to watch me. So you can see how to get down,” he said.
“Okay,” she took in a deep breath.
“Kate, really pay attention. Once I get down there, I'm not going to be able to make it back up,” he stressed.
“Yeah Dad, I got it. I'll pay attention,” she mumbled, out of breath.
Letting go of Joe, so he could maneuver, Kate grabbed onto the pipe she sat upon to maintain her balance. Joe slid forward wrapping his legs around the perimeter pipe. He pulled himself off the parallel pipe swung around to the outside of the wheel, facing Kate now, he flashed a half grin. Kate eagerly scooted forward, grabbing hold of the perimeter pipe.
Joe loosened his arms and legs and began to slide down the steel toward the cart below. He moved at a snail’s pace, so slow that his thighs and nearly every muscle in his arms burned. Only half way to the cart below, his arms felt as if they were on fire. Loosening his grip slightly, he began to gain more momentum. After the longest few seconds of his life, he stopped himself at the next intersecting pipe. He flopped into the adjacent cart, his legs blazing, but not nearly as severely as the stinging in his arms.
As his fiery muscles screamed in pain, Joe steadied himself in the cart. His mind reeled, trying to make sense of the madness ensuing at the carnival. He’d never seen chaos like this in all his life. What he originally thought to be a fight or even rioting, turned out to be something much more gruesome. How is this possible? He examined the battleground, the wounded, the dead, and the awakened, wondering if this could all be real. His mind drifted to his job, not his occupation, but his actual job, being a father. He had two daughters that he had promised his wife he would protect, the day each of them were born. Assuring himself that he was doing the right thing, by getting Kate down to this cart, he knew that next—they needed to get home to Roxy. Once we are all together, we can figure out what to do from there.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
After leaving James’ office, Mara immediately instructed her team to continue the research that Edward had begun on the serum. The serum’s secret had been exposed, it was far more important to come up with a cure at this point than to keep things quiet. She had shared Edward’s email and video attachment with her techs to get them up to speed. Mara’s eyes scanned over her lab. The overhead florescent lighting radiated off the snow white walls, making for a well-lighted area for examining specimens.
Angie and Lex were conducting preliminary tests of the remaining serum. Angie worked at the west end of the lab, utilizing two stainless steel tables, an array of instruments including a collection of petri dishes, a microstreaker, three microscopes and a laptop. Angie has always been a tidy worker, witheverything upon her tables being neat and orderly. The glass supply cabinets that line the wall behind her looked as if they’d been untouched. She had just finished creating a half liter of the preliminary retro-virus, as Edward had called it in his email. He claimed that the retro-virus could slow the infection in a human being, as long as it is administered relatively close to the time of exposure, and if the wound is not that severe. Although it hadn’t been tested on humans yet, Edward purported that it had a sixty-five percent success rate in chimpanzees, offering a glimmer of hope to Mara and her team. Until they could test the orange-colored retro-virus on a human, they needed to conduct some tests of their own.
Lex toiled in the middle of the lab working tirelessly at getting things set up for the natural immunity testing. While a top notch technician, tidy, was not a word to describe Lex. He whisked around like a tornado blowing across the lab, leaving drawers and cabinets open, his workspace appearing sloppy—but somehow, it all made sense to Lex.
Mara walked through the lab closing all the cabinets, flashing a glare at Lex as she walked by. She nodded slightly at him as she approached Lex get his status update. This is impossible, she thought. We do not have all the necessary data or the time.
She thought about calling Edward, but fear stood in her way. She had given her word to keep the serum quiet, and now James, half of the security staff and h
er lab techs knew about it. Not to mention the fact, that it had been inadvertently administered to four patients whose whereabouts were unknown. This had become a mess of epic proportions in her eyes. No, calling Edward with all problems and no solutions would just create a bigger problem.
“Keep going guys, we have to come up with something, lives are at stake here. You two are the best, that’s why I chose you for my lab. Now let’s prove it to James,” Mara said, trying to instill confidence in her techs, although confidence was in short supply for herself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
As Roxy rounded the next corner, the dogs continued barking intermittently at the back window, where the man had thrown himself against the vehicle.
“Ladies!” Roxy shouted. The dogs turned around, before each taking a spot on the back seat. Rogue let out one final defiant bark under her breath, before submitting.
“I don’t know if I’m gonna make it Roxy,” Ann slurred slowly. She had her injured wrist pulled up to her chest, with her other hand clasped firmly around the blood steeped towel and her chin resting upon her hands.
“You’ll be fine. It’s not far,” Roxy said anxiously.
Ann’s face had drained of all color and her dry lips quivered. She slowly rocked her head toward Roxy. Her breathing had become more like gasping. In and out, her breaths became louder and more labored. Near tears, Roxy looked toward the road ahead.
Only a few blocks away from where they had departed, the scenery hadn’t changed much. Any thoughts of this madness being isolated to their neighborhood were diminishing fast. The streets ahead were mangled with vehicles. Some were smashed into one another, steam emitted from beneath the hood of others, and even a few were ablaze. Traveling down a disheveled, building-lined street known as Westgate Avenue, Roxy could barely recognize the area. Most of the buildings were dark, with the windows busted out of them. Few had florescent lights that were flickering on and off. A woman ran into, the now dilapidated, Sun Ray Café with four feigned men chasing after her. The men quickly caught the woman, and began biting at her as they all tumbled to the ground in the empty coffee shop. Several people sprinted out of the broken glass doors of Crowley’s Hardware carrying power tools, small appliances and two were even rolling carts of lumber and water down the street. The next store over, Coastal Novelties, was being ransacked, with more looters pilfering and destroying property. A few shops down, only the smoldering back end of a Town Car was visible, through Nana’s Fudge Factory’s window.
As they passed the small confectionary shop, Roxy heard a strenuous gasp from her passenger. Ann’s head bobbed up and down as she struggled for air, with her hands still across her chest.
“Ann, we’re almost there, just a few more blocks, and we’ll be at the hospital,” Roxy reassured.
No response from Ann, only gasping. Roxy depressed the gas pedal all the way to the floorboard, picking up speed. She turned off Westgate, and onto a Hells Canyon, a stark and desolate road. Ahead on the left, a series of darkened warehouses lined the road across from a dirt field. She knew Saddle Brook Park would be coming up about a quarter mile down, after the dirt. Just beyond that, the turn onto Starling Avenue. The hospital is only a half mile down Starling, Roxy reminded herself. As she scanned the road ahead, she felt slight relief, that there weren’t any people on this street, so far.
Ann expelled a laborious gasp, followed by a grunted sigh. Her head slumped over to the right smacking against her window as her body fell over limply.
“Ann! Ann!” Roxy shouted, reaching over and shaking her passenger’s shoulder violently. No response. Ann’s body flopped back and forth with each shove. Roxy pulled the car over beside the dirt field, putting the vehicle park.
“Ann, we’re almost there,” Roxy turned toward her passenger, touching her neck. Ann's skin felt unusually hot, almost feverish.
“Girl, you are burning up, please have a pulse, please have a pulse,” Roxy whispered keeping her fingers steady on the neck of her neighbor. Nothing. She repositioned her fingers twice, before accepting the obvious. Ann was dead.
“Damn it!” she screamed, slamming her hand on the dashboard. A rush of rage swirled down Roxy’s core. As though she’d gulped scalding coffee, she could feel the warmth of her rage creep down her chest and into her stomach. After all that had occurred in the past few minutes, losing her neighborhood to bloodthirsty murderers…and losing her home…she wanted to save Ann. She had no ideas about what to do next, as she could hold the tears back no longer. Shaking her head, Roxy slid back into her seat and gazed out the windshield.
Being a SCUBA instructor, Roxy’s first instinct was to call 9-1-1 and begin CPR. That wouldn’t an option tonight, with all circuits being busy. With no breathing, every minute counts. Maybe the hospital will be able to revive her, if I can get her there in time. I can make it there in three minutes, I know I can. That could give her a seventy percent survival rate.
Putting the car back into drive, she sped down the road. It took no time before she’d reached the edge of the park. Almost there. Passing the duck pond in the middle of the park, Roxy heard something. Turning toward the body in the passenger seat, she was taken aback to see Ann stirring. Roxy’s foot rolled off the accelerator, as her eyes widened and mouth hung open, but words would not come to pass. Ann’s shoulders were adjusting, back straightening, as she somewhat lifted her chin. Her head hung low in front of her. She said not a word, just sat up, head down while gargling in such a way, that it almost sounded like a growl.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Joe observed the strange beings moving about below the wheel. Oddly, only few were looking skyward. He had slid down relatively unnoticed. The ones below shuffled around, not quite going anywhere. It was as if they knew that regular people were in the vicinity, and they were waiting. They weren't searching, only waiting. Joe turned his attention up to Kate. He gave her a nod and readied himself to collect her when she slid down the Ferris Wheel’s perimeter steel.
Kate nodded, but as she reached her hands around the piping, she failed to get a comfortable grip. Repositioning her hands again and again, her frustration and a fear prohibited her from following through. Glancing down to her father, she shook her head and mouthed I can’t. Joe put his palms up to Kate and gently pulsed, them as a sign for her to slow down and take her time. Kate shook her head again as if she weren’t willing to give it another try.
A deafening siren blasted from a nearby street. They both paused, looking in the direction of the sound's origin. The sound caught the attention of the crowd as well. Their heads began to turn, some more slowly than others, toward the sound of the siren. Streaks of red reflected off the cars in the parking lot as one of Port Steward’s four fire trucks emerged from the distance. The crowd was on the move, toward the blaring, flashing fire truck.
A woman, not far from the wheel, with her dark eyes nearly bugging out, strained her muscles, while balling her fists. Tilting her head back, she emitted an inhuman yell that echoed through the carnival and lasted several seconds, before sprinting full speed toward the flashing truck. Her call was reproduced by others screaming out, as if to call the mob-members to the scene.
Joe knew that their moment had come. He hoped that Kate would be in the cart prior to a diversion, but this could work. "Kate now," he whispered.
She looked down at her father, before letting her eyes drift to the crowd below. Pursing her thin lips, she shook her head, conveying the message that she didn’t want to do it. Joe waved her down, while losing patience. He needed to get her into the cart now. Kate mouthed down to him, I’m scared. Joe looked at the fire truck and then down at the disbursing crowd beneath him. If he couldn’t get Kate to come down now, they might not have another chance. Throwing his hands up and giving Kate a glowering stare, Joe shook his head. I can’t get mad at her—she’s just afraid. Joe offered a tight-lipped, half grin to Kate, before mouthing, it’s okay.
Kate scooted herself closer to the perimeter steel as th
ough she were going to give it a try. Looking back down at Joe, she offered a brief nod, before she slowly inched herself around to the outside of the perimeter pipe, just as Joe had. Flashing a brief, apprehensive look at her father, she loosened her grip around the steel and began her descent. From Joe's perspective, it seemed effortless. His arms were still stinging from his slide down. As she approached, Joe reached out and pulled her into the cart. He held her tight for a moment, before peering at the ground below. Nearly all of the savages had left, making their way toward the fire truck. Joe could see only a few remained nearby, shuffling their feet and looking downward. They appeared much more sluggish than most of the others that had been beneath the wheel. Joe felt certain that he and Kate could outrun them, as long as the others didn’t return.
“Let's go,” Joe urged.
As Joe moved, Kate mimicked his every motion. They both grabbed the safety bar, stepping over it. Standing on the leg rest, facing the back of the cart, they bent down on their knees. They slid their knees off the leg rest and they dangled from the safety bar. Joe looked at Kate, before letting go of the safety bar with one hand and placing it on the edge of the leg rest. He did the same with the other hand, then dropped to the ground. Kate followed his movements, landing beside him. Joe quickly glanced up and saw that many of the other passengers were following their lead and sliding down the perimeter steel to the carts below.
“Dad, let's go,” Kate pleaded, tugging on his arm.
“The Harley’s over here,” he nodded.
Joe turned toward the parking lot, ushering Kate ahead of him, when in his peripheral vision, he spotted a figure. Turning his head, he saw a woman sprinting straight for him. The woman had blood smeared all over her face. In her fifties with black hair pulled into a tidy bun, she raced forward in her stained, blue sweater and filthy slacks. She bolted at a speed that could rival a dog. Joe had ten yards on her as he started toward the parking lot. He only made it a few feet from the Ferris Wheel, before he felt her pawing at his shirt.