H7N9: The Complete Series [Books 1-3]

by Campbell, Mark

  Ignoring the intense pain flowing through his whole body, Teddy tried to get back on his feet.

  Darrel shoved him hard in the chest and knocked him back down.

  Teddy landed on his back, the fall knocking the wind out of him. His face reddened as he gasped desperately for breath.

  “You wanted to talk?” Darrel asked with a puzzled expression. “After you disrespected me this morning in front of my boys, did you really think that we had anything left to talk about? You signed your own death certificate with that big fucking mouth of yours.”

  Darrel drew his fist back and lunged forward.

  Teddy kicked his foot out and drove the heel of his boot into Darrel’s crotch. He knew it was a dirty move, but it was effective.

  Darrel’s face went pale as he bent over, gagging and gasping. The purple veins in his neck protruded as his eyes widened.

  Teddy drove his other boot into Darrel’s chest.

  Darrel stumbled backwards, wheezing, and caught himself on the upper tier’s handrail.

  A shrill alarm started wailing throughout the complex; for once someone in the control center actually paid attention to the unit’s CCTV cameras.

  “Control to all available staff! We have a fight in Bravo A! I repeat, we have a fight in Bravo A! Multiple inmates involved! Officer down! I repeat, officer down!” a voice frantically shouted over the radio.

  “Operations Lieutenant Barnes to Disturbance Control Team staff, report to Bravo A! Use of chemical agents authorized!” a gruff voice replied.

  Teddy scurried up on his feet as he caught his breath. In a delirious, dizzy haze he charged towards Darrel.

  As soon as Teddy ran past his cell, Andy leapt outside and wrapped his arms around Teddy’s waist, stopping him.

  Andy shoved Teddy against the handrail with blood dribbling out of his broken nose and wounded forehead. He held him tightly in a chokehold, squeezing with all of the strength he could muster.

  Teddy’s eyes bulged as he reached up and clawed frantically at Andy’s arm, gasping for air. He reached one hand up towards the back of Andy’s shoulder and waved his fingers in the air as he searched wildly for the weapon lodged there.

  Darrel pushed himself off of the rail and stepped towards Teddy. He glanced down and noticed that Coor was out cold. The inmates who had beaten the officer down were hurriedly pulling mattresses and plastic chairs out of nearby cells and stacking them in front of the sally port’s door to barricade it, but he could already hear the jingling keys of responding staff converging towards the unit; the goon squad would be there any second and the flimsy barricade wouldn’t hold. He had to act fast. He looked at Andy and pointed below.

  “Just throw him off the ledge!” Darrel ordered in a scratchy voice.

  Just as his vision was starting to fade to black, Teddy’s fingers found what they were looking for.

  Teddy yanked out the fiberglass shiv protruding out of Andy’s shoulder.

  Andy let out an excruciating howl and his grip weakened.

  Teddy drove an elbow back into Andy’s gut and broke away from the chokehold.

  Darrel, surprised, stepped back.

  Without wasting another second, Teddy drove the shiv into Darrel’s throat and snapped the tip of it off inside.

  Blood bubbled out of Darrel’s mouth as he became pale and his eyes clouded. He reached up and clasped his hands over the gaping hole in his neck. Blood spurted out from in-between his fingers.

  Teddy shoved Darrel hard in the chest with both hands and sent the man tumbling over the upper tier handrail.

  Darrel’s body made a meaty smack as it landed hard on the concrete below. His contorted corpse lay motionless in an ever-growing pool of blood.

  For once, the other inmates fell silent as they stared through their cell doors’ narrow windows.

  The only sound was the periodic wail of the alarm.

  Teddy stared down at his handiwork, breathing erratically as he massaged his bruised throat.

  The four white inmates downstairs abandoned their makeshift barricade at the front of the unit and started running towards the staircase.

  In an instant the flimsy barricade collapsed and teargas canisters and beanbag projectiles struck the inmates in their backs.

  The inmates collapsed on the floor, coughing and gagging as the haze enveloped them.

  Guards wearing black body armor, ballistic helmets, and gas masks entered the unit in formation. They carried riot shields with ‘DCT’ etched across them in white lettering and were armed with long wooden batons and teargas launchers.

  They pointed their launchers up at the ceiling and fired a second volley of teargas canisters into the unit.

  The other inmates shouted obscenities and slammed their cell doors shut. Some stuffed wet towels around the bottom of the door to keep the gas out while others covered their faces with towels and wet shirts.

  The guards turned their attention towards Teddy as they cautiously made their way towards the iron steps.

  “Get on the ground, inmate! Get on the ground now!” one of the masked guards shouted.

  Teddy fell down onto his knees and put his hands on his head as a dense fog started to inundate the unit and burn his lungs.

  Guards converged on him with their shields up and batons ready.

  He closed his eyes.

  It was over.

  ***

  The prison’s staff breakroom was a dim, stuffy area not much larger than a small bedroom. It housed a couple of vending machines, a coffee maker, and a sink. A small table and two chairs sat in the middle of the room and a platter of stale doughnuts sat in the center of the table.

  With the disturbance going on in Bravo Unit and the institutional lockdown underway, cups of coffee sat untouched on the counter and half-eaten doughnuts lay strewn on the floor.

  In the corner of the room a television hung from the ceiling.

  The reception was grainy but still came through.

  Instead of the usual daytime soap opera, a press conference was playing. The ticker at the bottom on the screen read ‘BREAKING NEWS – CDC ISSUES STATEMENT’ and the graphic at the top of the screen next to the CBS logo read ‘LIVE’.

  “–attributed to that at this time. For now, the travel restrictions are necessary until FEMA completes their recovery operations,” said the clean-cut man standing at the podium. High ranking military officials and doctors stood behind the man. The CDC emblem adorned the podium and the wall behind it, while two large American flags flanked both sides of the stage. The man at the podium cleared his throat and shuffled through a stack of papers, glancing down at his notes before continuing. “However, we can say for certain that all cases of the aggressive H7N9 subtype have been contained. Next question?”

  Multiple flashbulbs went off.

  “What about cases of Harlem Flu being reported in other states?” a female reporter from the press pool asked.

  “There have been no reported cases of H7N9 infection in any other states that I’m aware of,” the man quickly replied. “What we have been–”

  “Local hospital reports are saying otherwise. There are even reports of deaths. Videos have been posted all over social media showing crowded emergency rooms and–”

  “If you’ll let me finish, I’ll address your question, madam,” the man said calmly. “As I was saying, what we have been witnessing is widespread seasonal flu activity throughout the United States and parts of Canada. The strain circulating is a swine flu variant. It is aggressive, but not deadly unless you fall within one of the usual seasonal high-risk groups. Unfortunately, given the timing of the events on the east coast, mass hysteria and fake news is being fanned by social media. People who are sick and would have normally stayed home, have been flocking to the hospitals needlessly out an unfounded abundance of concern. We suspect that this is the main reason for the uptick in reported flu cases. Next question please.”

  “Jumping off of the last question in regards to social media, ther
e is footage leaking on the internet showing US army troops wearing masks and hazmat suits operating inside Los Angeles and Sacramento. Is this military activity related to the Harlem Flu outbreak on the east coast?” a man asked from the back of the press pool.

  More flashbulbs and murmurs.

  “I’m not aware of anything like that, sorry. There are no troops active on US soil aside from the National Guard’s relief efforts taking place in NYC. I’ll take one more question before I hand over the podium to Mr. Emersion of the American Red Cross.”

  “What advice does the CDC have for people who are sick?” a young woman asked.

  The man at the podium smiled.

  “The same advice we have every year,” he said. “Drink plenty of clear fluids, take aspirin for your fever, stay in bed, get plenty of rest, and maintain responsible social distancing by staying at home until you feel better. I guarantee that you’ll be on the mend within a few days. If you’re not sick, the best advice I can give you is to get your flu vaccine and wash your hands frequently. This will all pass very quickly.”

  CHAPTER 3

  NOVEMBER 7th

  Teddy sat on the concrete slab that had been serving as his bed for the past week, with his back pressed against the moldy grey wall. The slab had a thin foam mattress on it, but offered very little in terms of comfort; every bone in his body ached. The blanket was tattered and the bedsheet was stained.

  The windowless single cell was no larger than a small closet. Apart from the concrete slab masquerading as a bed, the only other place to sit in the dank cell was on top of a rusty toilet next to a sink with no mirror. A single fluorescent light housed behind a steel grille was mounted on the ceiling and it constantly hummed and flickered. The air churning out of the dirty vent overhead was bitterly cold.

  Teddy despised every second of his confinement.

  What made it worse was the constant yelling and banging from the other inmates.

  A moment of silence was just as elusive as a good night’s sleep.

  Stubble covered his face and his hair was slick with oil. His orange SHU jumpsuit reeked from body odor; he found it sad how badly he missed his scratchy khaki uniform. His boots had been replaced with flimsy orange slippers.

  Teddy rubbed his face and stared vacantly at the grey wall in front of him with bloodshot eyes.

  No books.

  No radio.

  No television.

  No human contact.

  It was numbing him, killing him.

  The worst part was that he knew he’d still have to deal with the backlash from the Aryans when he got shipped off to a new prison. No matter how far the bureau sent him, he could never escape their reach.

  Regardless of where he landed, he still had a death sentence waiting for him.

  It shamed him to think how many times suicide crossed his mind. The walls of solitary had a sadistic way of planting dark thoughts deep in a man’s mind and even a hardened con like Teddy wasn’t immune.

  He closed his eyes and listened as the other inmates shouted through their iron cell doors, screaming down the range at each other, talking.

  Nobody bothered trying to talk to him.

  Word about what he had done had already spread through SHU and they knew that he was a dead man walking.

  Others stayed away from guys like him.

  It was just as well; he didn’t reckon he had much to talk about with a bunch of solitary thugs anyway.

  Teddy heard the security grille at the end of the hall slide open and the guard’s radio squawking as the man walked down the middle of the range.

  Most of the inmates quieted down, but a few went into an uproar as they started kicking their cell doors and yelling obscenities at the guard as he made his round, even though they knew that meant they would be the ones he would end up ignoring and not feeding for the rest of his shift.

  Every thirty minutes the guards were supposed to make security rounds down all of the SHU ranges, but Teddy noticed that the rounds were getting further and further apart.

  Teddy stood up and walked towards his door. His cell door had a narrow window covered by a sliding piece of steel that could only be opened from the other side. In the middle of the door below the window was a narrow trap door that the guard could open with a key.

  He slammed his open palm against the door as hard as he could.

  “Guard!” he shouted as he banged against the door.

  After several seconds the sheet of steel covering his window slid aside and a husky black guard wearing a blue N-95 mask stared at Teddy through the streaked window.

  “What do you want?” the man asked in an aggravated tone.

  “Are we having rec today?”

  “No,” the guard replied. “The rec officer didn’t show up and neither did half of the dayshift officers. Thanks to them I got mandated to stay over so I’m not doing shit.”

  Teddy frowned. They were supposed to get an hour of outdoor recreation every day in solitary chain-link cages. The SHU rec cages weren’t much larger than the cells, but he would kill for an hour of sunshine and fresh air. He honestly believed that he was losing his mind being locked in his room.

  “Do you know when someone is showing up to give us rec?” Teddy asked.

  “Nope,” was the curt reply.

  Teddy narrowed his eyes and glared at him.

  “This is bullshit. We didn’t have a rec officer for four days in a row.”

  “Guess what? I don’t fucking care.”

  The guard slid the iron cover shut and kept walking down the range.

  Teddy slammed his open palm against the door three times, turned around, and stormed back to his bed. He flopped down on his back and stared up at the ceiling.

  He waited for hours, but the guard never came back and the breakfast trays weren’t handed out.

  The other inmates started banging and shouting but nobody came.

  Water trickled in from underneath his cell door as some of the other inmates started purposely overflowing their toilets and flooding their cells. It was a petty form of protest but it normally proved successful. That day however, it wasn’t so successful; lunch and dinner were never served.

  The inmates continued flooding, shouting, kicking, and banging as the hours waned on.

  The guard never made another round.

  Despite the noise, Teddy eventually fell asleep from exhaustion even as hunger consumed his very core.

  NOVEMBER 8th

  The sound of his iron feeding slot unlocking woke him up.

  Teddy’s tired eyes opened and he quickly sat on the edge of the bed as he stared at the door.

  Someone shoved a plastic tray through the slot.

  The tray struck the floor and the top flew off. Eggs spilled across the floor.

  “Hey! Goddammit! What the fuck is wrong with you?” Teddy shouted angrily as he got off of the bed and stormed towards the door.

  The slot slammed shut and locked before Teddy arrived.

  “Fuck you! I want a new tray!” Teddy shouted. He slammed his fist against the door as hard as he could, but the guard never came back. He heard the other food slots open and shut as the guard made his way down the range and flung trays inside.

  Others started yelling, but whoever was working didn’t seem to care.

  Teddy heard the security grille slam shut as the guard walked out of the range. Hungry and desperate, he got on his knees and started shoveling food from the dirty floor into his mouth with both hands.

  Every last crumb was gone within a few minutes.

  Teddy slowly stood up and wiped his mouth with his forearm while staring shamefully down at the floor; the guard’s actions were completely disrespectful and he knew that one of the inmates would make sure to get retribution the next time their cell door got opened for recreation.

  When it came to fights, nobody really messed with the staff, but SHU was the exception - especially when disrespect was involved.

  The level of depravity and
complete lack of respect was far worse than anything he remembered.

  He kicked the empty tray across the cell and stumbled towards the sink. He turned on the tap, hunched over, and started drinking as much as he could.

  After about ten minutes of sipping from the warm trickle, he turned off the tap and sat back down on the bunk.

  Teddy sighed and cupped his face with his hands, closing his eyes.

  He felt disoriented.

  He didn’t even know what time of day it was.

  Hell, he didn’t even know how many days had passed.

  It felt like weeks had already gone by- months even.

  Teddy flopped back on his mat and closed his eyes.

  All he heard was coughing and shouting.

  NOVEMBER 9th

  “CO!” an inmate shouted down the range. “Get down here! I need a doctor! Hey! Help!”

  The inmate started kicking the door frantically, coughing loudly, and roused Teddy out of a dreamless sleep.

  Teddy rolled over onto his side and tried to ignore the man’s cries. He covered his head with his blanket but the noise didn’t stop.

  Hours passed.

  The man finally stopped making noises.

  Eventually Teddy heard the security grille open and heard a guard’s keys jingling down the range.

  “Roll cell 23!” the guard shouted.

  A buzzer sounded and the cell door a few doors down from Teddy opened.

  “Henderson! Get your ass down here and help me!”

  Another set of jingling keys moved down the range.

  Groggy, Teddy forced himself off of the bed and stumbled towards the door. He slapped his open palm against the door repeatedly, head hung low.

  “Hey! Over here!” Teddy shouted in a scratchy voice.

  The steel cover slid aside and a guard wearing a surgical mask stared at him through the glass with tired, bloodshot eyes. His pale bald head was covered with droplets of sweat.

  “What is it? You sick?” Henderson asked.

  Teddy stared at him and shook his head.

  “No.”

  “Then what is it? What do you want?”

  “I was wondering if we’re having rec today.”