Immune

by Jacqueline Druga

  “You mean live or walk around?”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Have you seen some of the infected? They shouldn’t be walking around.”

  “You know, the news said some were dead. I have a theory.”

  “I welcome it.”

  “Whatever this is, it infected the brain and these people aren’t feeling pain so they keep moving until they stop.”

  “Let’s hope you’re right.”

  Stanton was there to greet them with a few men to help unload. “Glad you guys made it back alright. Myron, your grandmother is worried sick about you. Make sure you stop and see her. We have been keeping her busy.”

  “Thanks, I’ll do that.”

  “Anything new?” Paul asked.

  “Trying to figure out a few things, is all,” Stanton said. “One, what do we do with the infected? We have enough ammunition to start taking them out. Or are they going to die?”

  Paul shook his head, at a loss. “I really don’t know. Maybe if we waited another day or so…”

  “Can we wait? Can we sustain all of these infected?” Stanton questioned. “I mean, we are cornered. We have no way out of this building.”

  “We were just discussing that,” Paul said. “Too bad we can’t build a walkway over them.”

  Myron snapped his finger. “Maybe we can.” Both men looked at him. “Not sure it will work. There’s a man inside I need to speak to. Will you excuse me? I’ll help with the stuff in a little bit.”

  After he walked away, Paul turned to Stanton. “I wonder what that is about.”

  “Haven’t a clue, but any idea is better than none. We’ve been monitoring the emergency band, when you get in, Tara needs to speak to you. Says she has information regarding the infected.”

  “Did she say what?” Paul asked and walked with Stanton to the building.

  “No. Also, the local radio DJ is holed up at her station. People are calling in. I have someone listening now and trying to get information. Did we want to call her?”

  “It could be beneficial,” Paul said. “I don’t see how it can hurt. Anything else?”

  “Our shelter residents are dealing, but they are upset. I still stand firm on having that group meeting.”

  “And again, I will ask,” Paul nearly whined, “tell them what?”

  “What you know. That the infected are sick. Tara has information. Whatever that is, share it. A calm shelter is a productive and better shelter. Anything you can tell them to make them feel at ease, safe, and secure.”

  Paul had to chuckle at that. He would make the attempt after hearing what Tara had to say. Hopefully she had viable information, though he had to wonder about the effectiveness of anything he had to tell them. How was he supposed to make them feel at ease and secure when he himself was scared to death?

  <><><><>

  Mt. Hallow, PA

  After a failed attempt to get close to Washington County Hospital, Eugene sought the next logical hospital that wasn’t in the city. It involved turning around, but they had to. Infected swarmed the streets around the medical center.

  Cars were spewed across the road, blocking any passable routes, and it looked like a war zone. Desecrated bodies, torn apart, dotted the streets.

  They discovered their next medical destination by accident. Opting to head north, they ran across the outpatient clinic seven miles from Washington. The main hospital associated with the outpatient center was another seven miles away. Deep in a borough, the hospital actually seemed a logical place.

  Max’s hand finally stopped bleeding, but it didn’t look good. Without a doubt he had several lacerations that needed stitching.

  None of them were familiar with the area and they relied on the Rand McNally Atlas Eugene had grabbed from the Shotz.

  “We’re going to need a plan,” Eugene said. “It’s already after three, couple hours it’ll be dark. I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t want to be anywhere in the open after dark.”

  “It’s possible,” Grace said, “that if the hospital is operational, we can stay there, right?”

  “Right,” Eugene replied. “And if not?”

  “What about that shelter? That community is not far from the hospital.”

  Max interjected, “I think the shelter should be for tomorrow unless we can safely guarantee we can get there before dark. We don’t know how long we’ll be at the hospital. I’m sure there are places to go that are safe.”

  “Let’s do this one thing at a time,” Grace suggested. “Hospital first.”

  They had taken what looked like on the map, small secondary routes. Pockets of traffic jams made up of abandoned cars and groups of infected were all over the main roads. It was longer, but easier. The last leg of the hospital voyage would be made on the main road, a two mile stretch.

  Blue road signs indicating a hospital zone told them they were on target. It was easy to spot Saint Clair Memorial hospital. At least a block beforehand, the sign was visible, and so were a couple of other things. The road was a parking lot and the top two floors of the hospital were smoldering fires with smoke flowing steadily into the blue sky.

  Eugene stopped the car at the end of the traffic jam a block away. Walking was out. Infected were moving about between the cars.

  “I’m, sorry,” he said, looking back at Grace. “I can’t get any closer.”

  “We’re so close.”

  “I know. But we don’t even know if it’s operational.”

  Grace stared at Macy. The little girl was out like a light, her shoulders heaving as she breathed thick, snoring breaths.

  “I have an idea,” Max said. “Back the car up.”

  Even though it was on a main road, it was primarily a residential area. Eugene did as instructed and pulled over once Max noted there weren’t any infected around.

  After telling them to stay put, he got out of the car, closed the car door, and walked to the house that he had spotted just before the traffic jam. It was exactly like the other homes on the street, constructed in the same era, but the story and a half home caught his attention. It was different than the others. The front screen door was open, there was a blanket and another small object on the lawn, and the garage door was lifted. There was no car in the garage or on the street in front of the home.

  To Max, it looked like the residents up and left in a hurry.

  He checked out the garage; it was empty and he immediately shut the door between the garage and the basement. Then he walked up the few steps to the front of the house and tried the door, finding it unlocked. He didn’t worry about encountering any infected, he just wanted to make sure the house was safe and empty.

  “Hello?” he called out as he stepped into the house. It wasn’t a big house, no entranceway, and the front door opened directly into the living room. A couple of the couch cushions were disheveled, a lamp knocked over. The dining room was in clear view and no one was there. He peered up the steps to his right, called out again, and walked up.

  At the top of the stairs were two bedrooms and a bath. It was a compact upper floor with slanted ceilings. The bathroom was empty, no signs of a struggle. The bed in the master bedroom was unmade and the other room looked as if it belonged to a teenager. It was a mess and controllers for a video game were on the bed.

  The second floor was clear.

  That was when he heard a thump and shuffle from below.

  He left the teenager’s bedroom and headed back down the stairs. The living room was still empty and Max peeked out to check on the others in the car. When he stepped into the dining room he saw the man.

  The kitchen was a small open area connected to a family room on the other side.

  Moving rigidly and stiffly, the man, wearing a tee shirt and pajama bottoms, bumped relentlessly into the sliding glass doors of the family room. He'd stagger into the closed doors, bounce back, and try again. His white shirt was filthy and covered with a brown substance, his hair matted and messy. He emitted an o
dor that Max caught even at ten feet away.

  Max made his way slowly over to the man, whose back was covered with dried blood and his face not only showing signs of the sickness but of bruises sustained from hitting against the door.

  Max was surprised the glass hadn’t broken.

  Eyes focused on the man, Max’s foot hit something on the kitchen floor that rolled across the linoleum, catching the attention of the man.

  The infected man stared at Max, breathed his gurgling frustration with a snarl then continued his actions.

  Max peered down to see what he had kicked. It was a huge butcher knife. There was blood on the knife and Max reached down for it. Someone in the house had tried to take down the man and failed.

  Max would finish the job.

  He walked up behind the man, his insides twisting with nervousness and a sickening feeling.

  Was he making the right decision?

  Botched attempts to stab the man were evident all over his back. Max gripped the handle of the knife, taking a breath of courage. “I’m sorry, guy.”

  Upon hearing his words, the infected man spun to Max, released this thick mucus filled growl, and Max inserted the knife under the man’s chin until the handle met his jawbone.

  Eyes widening, the man fell sideways.

  Emotionally it wasn’t an easy task. He had taken a life in cold blood. He saw the man’s eyes, looked into them, if only briefly.

  Max then opened the sliding glass doors and pulled the body outside. First and second floor secure now, Max shut and locked the front door, secured the sliding glass doors, pulled the drapes, and went to the basement.

  The game room was free of infected as well and he decided it was a safe place. With a windowless garage door, Max’s idea would work.

  He instructed Eugene to back the car into the garage.

  “Grace and I can get to the hospital, walk among the infected, you two can’t,” Max said. “The house is empty, but stay down here in case you need to escape. I really think you’ll be fine in here. Stay in the garage, and for God’s sake, don’t run the car.”

  “I’m not an idiot,” Eugene replied. “How will we know you guys made it? Or if everything is okay at the hospital?”

  “We’ll come back,” Max stated.

  Grace crouched down to Candice. “You stay with Eugene, stay near the car and listen to him.”

  “Will Macy be okay?” Candice asked.

  “I don’t know.” Grace placed her lips to Candice’s forehead and stood. She opened the back car door, and undid the straps on the car seat, lifting Macy into her arms. “We’ll be back.”

  After double checking the basement door was locked, Max gave one more look to Eugene and Candice and pulled down the garage door.

  The handle turned, Eugene had locked the door.

  “Why are you doing this?” Grace asked.

  “We came this far, right? We were running for our lives, well, Eugene was. And besides,” he lifted his hand, “I need stitches.”

  It was two blocks to the hospital, mostly on an upgrade, and halfway there, Max took over the task of carrying Macy. Although the child was small, her immobile body was heavy for Grace to keep carrying.

  “What if no one is there?” Grace asked worriedly.

  “Then no one is there. It’s still a hospital. They have an ER, and at the very least, maybe we can find something besides Benadryl that will keep her calm.”

  “Do you know what to look for?”

  “I have an idea.” He adjusted Macy against his chest. “She’s still really feverish. Maybe some antibiotics.”

  “This is a virus. I don’t think antibiotics work on a virus.”

  “We’ll find something.”

  They weaved through the cars and walked inconspicuously around the infected. The first entrance to the hospital was the emergency room entrance, a gated opening, sealed off by a military truck. Yet, there were no soldiers.

  They squeezed by the truck into the parking area of the ER wing. It had been cleared. No infected walked around, but there were bodies. Some torn to shreds, some bullet ridden.

  The ER had two entrance bays, both huge glass doors that were closed.

  Max handed Macy to Grace, walked over to the patient entrance, and peered inside. He saw one light and a body lay on the floor.

  “Any one there?” Grace asked.

  “Not that I see.” He tried to pry open the door. It didn’t budge. Max then walked over to the ambulance entrance doors, which were locked as well, and gurneys were pushed against them on the inside.

  “What do we do?” Grace asked.

  “Break in.” Max looked around. There was a guard booth directly outside the patient entrance and, hoping to find something in there, Max went over to it. As soon as he stepped inside the booth, he heard Grace scream and rushed back out.

  A man in soiled scrubs stood inside the patient entrance, holding up his hand for them to wait. He grabbed a chair, carried it to the doors, stood on it, and reached to the top, obviously unlocking it.

  Grace sighed out loudly in relief when the doors opened.

  “Come on in,” he said. “Hurry.”

  Grace and Max slipped inside the small opening. The man in scrubs peered out nervously, then locked the doors again.

  <><><><>

  His name, Darshan Jvaheri, was on his name badge, which he still wore clipped to his chest pocket. The younger, dark complexioned man calmly stepped over the sheet covered body by the main doors. “This way,” he said. “We need to stay out of sight. Do you folks need anything? Food. Water?”

  “No,” Grace replied. “Just help.”

  “I assume for the child?” Darshan said, reaching for the ‘open’ pad for the double doors.

  “And him,” Grace said. “He’s injured too.”

  “What kind of injury?” He paused in pressing the button.

  Max held up his hand. “And I have a bite. I need to make sure it’s healing.”

  “A bite.” Darshan stopped cold. “How long ago were you bitten?”

  “Thirty-six hours ago, maybe more.” “And you’re still not ill?” Darshan pushed the open button. “Amazing.”

  As soon as Grace walked through she saw people: some medical professionals, some survivors like her. They sat on the floor, in chairs, there weren’t many, maybe thirty, but it was the most uninfected people Grace had seen in one area since the outbreak.

  “We’re safe here,” Darshan said. He grabbed a med cart by the nurses’ station.

  “Doctor, do you need any help?” one of the women asked.

  “No, thank you, Betty, I’m good.” He moved the cart with him as he spoke to Grace and Max. “We secured the stairwells. There are infected on the upper floors, but they haven’t made it down. I don’t know if it is the steps or not, but we’re not taking any chances.” He peered into exam rooms as they walked by. “Here, this one is empty.” He pulled the curtain. “Please place the child down.”

  Grace kissed Macy and laid her on the gurney. Macy didn’t move.

  “Tell me, how did you make it through the infected to the hospital?” Darshan asked.

  Grace answered, “They don’t react to either of us.”

  “For now,” Darshan said. “I am guessing that could change so do not take a lot of security in that.”

  “Have you seen any others like us?” Grace asked.

  “Yes, we have a couple here. They are our supply runners. Parents such as yourself seeking help.” Darshan glanced at Macy as he grabbed his stethoscope.”She is infected with the virus, you know this, right?”

  “Yes,” Grace whimpered.

  “How did you sedate her?”

  “Benadryl.”

  Darshan carefully examined Macy. “What happened to her shoulders and chest?”

  “She tried to get out of the car seat.” Grace stood nearby, arms folded tight to her body.

  “She is in a full blow viral state. It has hit her glands.” He tiled her head left
to right. “As you can see, heart rate is exceedingly rapid, respiration as well. Temp …” He placed the aural thermometer to her ear, “well into the danger zone.”

  “Is there anything we can do?” Grace asked.

  “I don’t know what to tell you. It is still early. This thing... this virus, is like a melting pot of every extinction potential virus known to man. It’s like Mother Nature made a soup of it all and tossed it in the air.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Upon examination, we have the respiratory and fever reaction of H1N1, the blisters on her arms are remarkably similar to smallpox lesions, the mental state is akin to rabies. He lifted Macy’s arms. “On her neck and in her armpits the lymph nodes have buboes which have formed pustules. See how black they are? These are why the bubonic plague was also known as the Black Death.”

  “Have you heard anything from authorities on this?” Grace questioned.

  “We received a health alert three days ago about the possibility of the outbreak. They stated it could be rapid and overwhelming. I will say it is my belief that no one has had time to examine this phenomenon. It moved and struck too fast. Whether it is only locally, or a few states, or America, we don’t know. No one knows. Communications have broken down.”

  Grace lowered her head. “What’s going to happen to her?”

  “Again, I wish I had answers,” Darshan replied. “This is new. We’ve been seeing patients only a couple of days. Most of them passed away without ever hitting the rage state. The ones that become violent started yesterday afternoon. A fast mutation defying nature. That’s why I said don’t get comfortable being invisible to them. Now in answer to your question, more than likely she is suffering a complete breakdown of her internal organs. The fever will do that. She’ll more than likely pass away in her sleep when her air supply completely blocks.”

  “There’s no hope?”

  “You should never give up hope.”

  “What about the other parents?” Max asked. “You said other parents came here seeking help.”

  Darshan nodded. “They did. Some opted to spare their child. Most opted for hope. I gave them medication for sedation. Because there is no way this isn’t hurting her. She lacks the brain function to recognize it, or she does know and the attacking is her reaction.”