BOOK ONE:
Blood and Red Dust
First: the News
December 2010 – January 2011. Over One Hundred tons of Sardines, croaker, and catfish wash ashore in Brazil. No cause known.
December 2011. Beebe, Arkansas. Nearly two thousand red winged, black birds fall dead from the sky over a one mile radius. Sources stated that it is possible that lightening could have struck the flock in midair, and doubts that poison was involved.
March 2012. More than four hundred seals were discovered dead on the shores of Hay Island in Canada. The cause of Death is unknown, but a viral outbreak is speculated.
March 2011. Borneo, Malaysia. Over five thousand aquatic animals were found dead, including koi and turtles at Likas Lake. The cause of death is undetermined, but is suspected to be either chemicals in the waters or red tide.
May 2012. Baltimore, USA. Nearly one hundred thousand fish found dead in three creeks in northern Anne Arundel County. The smell radiated through neighborhoods for miles. The cause of death is presumed to be an algae growth due to pollution.
April 2012. Peru, South America. For three months dead dolphins washed ashore daily, accumulating more than three thousand deaths.
September 2012. Lake Erie. Ontario, Canada. Tens of thousands of dead fish and seagulls wash ashore. Ontario ministry of the Environment said, “..something…a storm, or cooler temperatures at night…triggers a temperature change in the lake,” which causes a lack of oxygen in the water causing the fish to die. No explanation for the death of the seagulls.
August 2012. New Jersey, USA. Dozens of birds fall from the sky. Residents explain seeing the birds try to fly and fall back to the ground, “…they were out of control…” Their deaths were likely to be caused by something they ate. All residents were urged to remain indoors “due to the order and the death of several birds in the area.”
“You’re BARRED Dennis!! That’s IT!” The supervisor of the Union Gospel Mission homeless shelter yelled. Dennis, Michael Dennis being his full name, had come into the shelter drunk, started a fight with another homeless man and landed a single blow to his temple, rendering him unconscious, all because the man had stepped on his shoe. “Man….FUCK Y’ALL!! I’o’need dis SHIT!! I’ll sleep outside!!” Michael retorted before drunkenly mumbling “Motha’ fucka’s.” He let himself out before police were called and took to the streets of Seattle. Jack Frost nipped at his face as the nearly frigid air was cold enough to sober him up. Luckily for him, he had on two jackets, a thin zip-down one, and a zip-down hoodie with faux fur on the inside, to keep him quite warm along with the alcohol coursing through his veins.
It was late September, winter seemed right around the corner, and fall was, oddly, almost over. At least that’s what Michael’s been reading in the papers. The moon was full, the city was calm and quiet, and aside from the other homeless people he saw walking down Washington toward First, there was nobody else there. He walked past Occidental park (Accidental as he called it, him recalling women and children being taken from the park, and previous murders), but there was no comfortable place to rest. “Another drink would be nice right’a ‘bout now.” He mumbled to himself as he staggered up First Avenue He thought of walking to “Native Park” near the public market, there’s a soft patch of grass there calling his name.
He approached First and Pike. Making a left on Pike he noticed the large red neon sign that read “Public Market Center,” a clock beside it reading eight-thirty p.m., with the night sky as its backdrop. On the street underneath the sign lay a homeless man who had bundled himself to keep warm, he was also coughing profusely. Michael recoiled in disgust. “Man, cover yo’ damn mouth!” Before Michael could avert his eyes he noticed something unusual about this man’s cough. He wasn’t coughing up phlegm; instead… red dust was coming from his mouth. Each cough delivered a cloud of Red Dust.
Man, what the fuck! He thought to himself. “Aye!” He shouted, “ Aye, man… you a’ight?”
The homeless man began to stand up, staggering, “Aye, young blood,” the homeless man spoke, “Can I please have a dollar? A Quarter? A penny? I’m hungry.” He grabbed for Michael and fell on him.
“Get yo’ motha’ fuckin’ hands off’a me!” Michael pushed the homeless man who fell hard to the ground and began coughing again, spewing red dust. He began to cough harder and harder until he seemed to no longer be able to catch his breath. BLEGH! He began to throw up vehemently, so hard that it seemed he was trying to get rid of his internal organs. In fact, he threw up so hard he began to throw up blood. “OH Shit!” Michael jumped back. “You need to go to the hospital.” He pulled out his cell phone and called an ambulance. “Uh, yeah…There’s a man in front of the Public Market throwing up blood. Hell no I can’t sit and wait. Fuck no I’m not sitting on the phone…LOOK, man….A’ight. Just hurry up. He just might die!” It took nearly forty five minutes for the ambulance to arrive. As Michael waited, the man became unconscious. Michael wasn’t about to find out, he was afraid to catch whatever the man had. No way in hell I’m going to be coughing up red dust and throwing up blood, He thought.
The temperature had dropped tremendously since he had called for the ambulance. It was now a frigid twenty-nine degrees; below freezing and a very odd temperature for this time of year. He was now regretting his actions that led to him being barred from the shelter. Had he kept his composure, he’d be sleeping soundly in a warm cot and a blanket instead of walking to Native Park to sleep on a patch of grass out in the cold, but no, now he’s waiting outside, cold, and alone with his own thoughts. While he waited he thought of the man he attacked and wished he’d never hit him, he even regretted buying the beers that he quickly downed just to take his mind off being homeless before he went to the shelter. He could have used the money to buy something else, like a night at the bath house, minutes for his cell phone, food, anything other than the six pack. “Man what took y’all so long to get here?” He said to the paramedics as they pulled up to the curb. There was something different about these paramedics. They were dressed in biohazard suits. He had recognized what they were wearing remembering the movie Outbreak. Aw shit, He thought.
“Are you sick?” A man in the biohazard suit asked.
Dennis hardly heard him, “What?” He began to walk closer to the man in the biohazard suit.
“Stay where you are!” The man in the biohazard suit drew his gun and aimed it at Michael’s head, prepared to open fire if he made any wrong moves.
“Whoa what the fuck?” Michael jumped back. He thought about turning and running but thought against it knowing he’d be shot the moment he made the motion to run.
“Do not move. Did you touch this man?” The second paramedic said in a concerned tone while pointing at the unconscious man on the ground. Michel had remembered the homeless man grabbing for him and him pushing the man to the ground.
“Nah.” He spoke nervously, “I ain’t touch that motha’…NO, I didn’t touch him.” He stood there with his hands in the air. What the fuck is really going on? He thought. There were two other men with biohazard suits on. They were cautiously placing the homeless man on a gurney with…what is it? Some sort of incubator around it? As they moved the man began to thrash and scream wildly. He coughed violently; red dust flew into the air, settling on everything around.
“Is the man gonna’ be ok?” Michael asked. He was worried. He saw what happens to people when they get hauled away by people in biohazard suits. They don’t come back.
“Yes sir, He will be A-OK.” The paramedic lied. He could tell by the lack of confidence in his voice. “We’re taking him to Harborview. Plea
se leave now, sir. Thank you.” The paramedic holding the gun said. They quickly closed the ambulance rear doors and sped off, sirens wailing down the street, leaving Michael alone with the cold night.
Michael’s drunkenness had begun to pass, his bladder was full and he badly needed to relieve himself. He did so as he continued his way toward Native Park, pulling out his dick and pissing while he walked. The time was nearing ten o’clock, and he was extremely tired. He passed a whole, unlit cigarette on the ground and kicked it. He smiled at himself in pride knowing that he had kicked a habit that was so hard for him to do. He began to recount what has just happened. Something about it seemed empty. “Coughin’ up dust…” he began to talk to himself, throwin’ up blood. What kind’a cold is that? Must be some new shit.” He found it easy to brush off the idea that it was the flu. He had never seen anyone with the flu that sick. It had bothered him that the paramedics were dressed in hazard suits, and pulled a gun on him. They were also concerned if Michael had touched that homeless man. I hope I don’t get sick like that. He thought to himself. It must be something serious, and it was now possible that Michael had been exposed to whatever it was the man had. He was concerned and felt that he needed to get to the bottom of what was going on. If he didn’t he would not sleep, which wasn’t a bad thing, because he had nowhere to sleep. At least if he went to the hospital he could be warm.
He had reached the park, and found even more cause to be alarmed. Many of the homeless people who live at the park were now not there. He quickly turned around when he noticed two men in biohazard suits waking up the remaining homeless and ordering them to come with them. He sped walked back to where he met the man and saw that his blood seemed to be growing, and the red dust looked to be spreading and sprouting what appeared to be… mushrooms. “I don’t feel right about this,” and with that, Michael made his way to the hospital.
Exhausted and ready for sleep, Michael made his way to 2nd street, making a right at the empty department store. He thought of the people in the shelter again, sleep by now in their cots snuggled in their warm blankets. It would sure be nice to be under a warm blanket. He thought again. It may have holes in it but at least I’ll be warm. “Where is this fucking street?” He said aloud. It had seemed to him he was walking forever. Not having adequate leg covering, the cold was making his legs feel stiff, yet like jelly, because they shivered with each extension step. “Is it Marion…Madison?” He mumbled to himself, “Fuck, I’ll just go until I see it.” He stopped walking on 2nd when he saw the hospital up the long and arduous looking hill. “Man, I fucking hate Seattle…all these damn hills!” He shook his head rueful of his decision, but he had to know what was really going on. “James street, a’int this a bitch?”
Upon entering the hospital, he noticed the waiting room was packed. Everyone was coughing, hacking, and wearing a face mask. The lot of them looked gravely ill. The janitorial staff cautiously cleaned up the blood vomit. It looked like what he saw the man throw up earlier, and the red dust that settled everywhere.
“Hello sir, can I get your name?” A woman to his left sitting behind a desk asked. She was not dressed in a biohazard suit, however, she wore a facemask, the plastic covering the rest of her face, as well as the suits surgeons wear to protect from blood splatter along with gloves to complete her uniform. In fact, all of the hospital staff, including the janitorial staff wore the same uniform. “Excuse me, sir. May I please have your name?” She politely repeated with a sense of urgency. “We have a lot of people to see.” Her voice is beautiful, he thought, and so are her eyes. I wish I could see her face.
“Um…Yes,” He was pretending to sound hoarse, “My name is Michael Dennis.”
“I’ll put your name on the list. Please have a seat, and be sure to wear a mask and goggles, we will get to you as soon as we can.” He couldn’t see her smiling, but her eyes lit up like the Sun, He knew a smile was under her mask.
“Thank you.” He hoarsely said. He walked over to a seat in the waiting room and plopped down. His hands toyed with the face mask as his attention turned to the cable news network on the TV.
The news anchor, an important looking middle aged man with greying hair spoke:
“Swine flu. H1N1. Bird flu. Ebola. The Black Plague. There are a few words that when spoken brings fear to the hearts and minds of many Americans. A pandemic can cause havoc and chaos in a nation, and around the world.
Just recently there has been a new scare, ‘The Red Cough.’ It has not been found to be deadly, but could make you rather sick. Symptoms include: fever, day and night sweats, delirium, dehydration, bloody vomit, and a dry cough that produces a red dust cloud. If you experience these symptoms please contact your doctor or go to your local hospital emergency room. Doctors have stated that normal antibiotics can clear up the symptoms. To protect yourself and others, please: 1.) Cover your mouth when you cough or sneeze. 2.) Wash your hands frequently; as well as maintain good personal hygiene. 3.) Avoid contact, or shaking hands with strangers. 4.) Lastly, I regret to say this, avoid physical contact with homeless, being that the majority of the cases that have been reported are from them. This has been Chase Storm for CNN.”
The voice trailed off as Michael thought, are you fucking serious, avoid the homeless? He looked around noticing that there were an abundance of homeless people in the ER, but many were there trying to have a warm place to relax. The majority of the ones who were sick were not of the homeless crowd.
A few of the people sitting around assumed that Michael was homeless and quickly moved away from him. He laughed at their ignorance. You’re in an ER full of sick people and move away from me? I’m not sick you fucks! He thought to himself. One particular woman, a white woman with shoulder length blond hair, attempted to move with her daughter. As she moved her daughter began to cough profusely, spewing red dust into the air. She was unmasked and it settled everywhere.
“Oh my God,” The mother screamed, “Someone please help!”
“Ma’am,” The triage nurse said, “Please sit down and we will get you help as soon as possible.”
“Yo’, you see this little girl is sick. Help her,” Michael stepped in.
“Sir, as I told all of you,” The nurse said with dwindling patience, “We are extremely busy, and we will get to you as soon as we can. There are a lot of others who are sick. I suggest you mask your daughter or you will be asked to leave.” Michael walked over to help the mother with her young child.
“Get your Goddamn dirty hands away from me and my daughter!” The mother said in disgust, “You fucking bum!”
“Fuck you, bitch. Your daughter’s the one who’s sick, not me. Good luck, you fucking cracka’!” Michael retorted. The woman looked at Michael with an expression of surprise and total disgust. Her mouth gaped. She grabbed her sick daughter and pulled her close to her, mouth still agape. “Betta’ close ya’ mouth ‘fore I put something in it,” Michael said laughing at himself.
“You vulgar son-of-a..”
“Is everything okay here, folks?” A hospital security intervened; he had heard Michael and the woman exchanging words.
“Yeah, man. I’m good. I was trying to help this lady with her daughter, but she had a problem with it, just ‘cause I’m homeless. Hell, I don’t even look homeless, I don’t stink, I shower every day, and I wash my clothes when needed. I’m not like these dirty, crazy ass mother fucka’s out here,” Michael replied.
“Sir, I have to ask you to watch your language, please?” The officer said patiently.
“Officer, this BUM was rude to me, and even sexually harassed me!” The woman whined.
“Bitch, I’m gay! I don’t want yo’ raggedy ass, stank ass pussy!” It was true. Michael had no attraction to this woman, nor any other woman for that matter.
“Sir, your language. Please, for the sake of us all, separate so there are no further issues. If I hear anything, I mean anything, I will have you both removed. Do I make myself clear?” The woman began to defend herself, fo
rming her lips to a “but” and the officer cut her off. “Do I. Make. Myself. Clear?” He repeated sternly.
“Crystal,” Michael replied.
“Yes, sir,” the woman said weakly, lowering her head.
“Thank you. Separate, now.” Before either of them could respond the officer turned and walked away. As Michael to the other end of the waiting room he shot and ugly look at the woman and mouthed, “Stupid bitch,” and laughed as he walked away from her. The woman stood up to move further from Michael, taking her daughter with her, only for her daughter to collapse in a coughing fit to the floor. With each violent, dry, hacking cough a cloud of red dust escaped into the air. Her mother tried to not get hysterical and comfort her, but nothing ceased the coughing. Red dust settled everywhere.
“Mommy, I don’t feel so good,” the daughter groaned.
“Mommy knows, honey. We will beat this. Okay? The doctor wil…” the young girl began to vomit, just like the homeless man did. It was full of blood. It splashed on her mother; on her face, clothes, and on the floor before the young girl finally collapsed in it. “Help! Someone please help?” The officers rushed over and helped the woman place her daughter on a gurney, that the triage nurse retrieved for the young girl. The mother had become so hysterical that it took the security guard to take her outside while her daughter laid there unconscious on the gurney.
Michael sat and patiently waited. He had no complaints. He was warm, had a comfortable place to sit, and the nurse passed out blankets, he was in heaven. He wouldn’t be sleeping outside tonight. He covered himself, closed his eyes, and slept.
Michael walked toward the nurses’ station through a bright, white, blinding corridor. The nurse at the station was covered as all other hospital personnel were, only her eyes being visible. She flickered and was standing in the next instant. Michael, startled, jumped back. She continued flickering in and out like a light bulb, while slowly removing he facial mask revealing that she had no face, but eyes, and was bald. Then she points. Michael slowly begins to walk in the pointed direction, which is the emergency waiting room. He finds it empty when he reaches it. Michael sits confused. A man enters, he is almost naked. Michael is afraid, but out of curiosity to find out who this naked man is, he sits. The man gets closer, as Michael heart races. He notices that the man is the security officer. He only wears his work boots, a very tight and revealing jock strap, along with his gun and hat. The officer stands at nearly six feet five inches tall, with a nicely sculpted body. He is a fair lite skinned man. Michael boldly looks behind the officer who now stands in front of him, and his eyes widen at the sight of his ass.
The Red Cough (Blood and Red Dust Book 1) Page 1
