Pandemic: The Innocents: A Post-Apocalyptic Medical Thriller Fiction Series (The Pandemic Series Book 2)

by Bobby Akart

  Once the concert was over, they phoned their friends, who were packing their things for the flight back to Copenhagen in the morning, to share the good news. The boys immediately adopted a slogan for the nuptials—“White Wedding”!

  Naturally, a White Wedding should be held at the famous Little White Wedding Chapel on the north end of the Strip. So off the joyous couple went, their friends in hot pursuit for the most exciting day in Frederik’s and Erika’s lives. A dress and tuxedo were purchased at a thrift store by the best men while the happy couple procured the necessary license. Rings would have to wait until they could save up a little more money. In the meantime, a local tattoo shop next door to the pawnshop created a seventy-nine-dollar alternative—buy one, get one free.

  It was late in the evening and no weddings were scheduled, but the Little White Wedding Chapel never closed despite a local ordinance that prohibited twenty-four-hour wedding services. The numerous chapels in the city simply locked their doors to give the appearance they were closed, although there was always someone inside at the ready. In Vegas, one never knew when one was ready to get hitched.

  Frederik pounded on the door, which remained locked after ten at night. He and Erika wanted to get married and they wanted to get married now, he exclaimed in his native tongue at one point.

  Finally, Jerry Waddell, wedding coordinator, opened the door to the splendor that was the Little White Wedding Chapel. The joyous celebrants strode across the chapel’s well-worn eggplant-colored carpet, following Jerry to the front desk to prepare the necessary paperwork.

  Since 1951, the chapel had become famous for its drive-thru wedding window and for performing quickie celebrity weddings for Judy Garland, Michael Jordon, and Britney Spears. Over time, the Little White Wedding Chapel contributed to the more than one hundred thousand weddings that were conducted in Las Vegas every year.

  Perhaps it was the overexuberance of the betrothed, or their strong Danish accents were too much for Jerry, who was nursing a hangover after heavy losses he’d sustained at the Golden Nugget, but he repeatedly quizzed the young couple about their sobriety during the registration process.

  The technicalities were over with and the ceremony began, with a slight twist. In Denmark, following a wedding ceremony, it was a tradition for the groom to leave the reception area to allow all of the male guests to kiss the new bride. Jerry enjoyed this custom as well, planting quite the smooch on young Erika.

  All in all, a good time was had and Jerry provided the group several printed photos of the event to carry home to Denmark. The pictures were flat and only weighed a few ounces. But they were heavy in comparison to the plague bacteria residing in Frederick and Erika, which resulted from breathing the artificial smoke billowing throughout the Thomas & Mack Arena—courtesy of Mohammed, formerly known as Devontae Harrison.

  The next day, the happy couple was whisked away to Copenhagen aboard their wedding chariot, a Boeing 777, along with their three best men. Thus far, Denmark had no reported cases of the plague. That was about to change.

  Chapter 51

  Day Forty-Four

  Interstate 70

  Near Georgetown, Colorado

  Every available square inch of space in their Land Rover Defender was packed. Mac sat cross-legged in the front seat because the floor of the truck was crammed full of canned goods. Through the center of the vehicle were two more sets of snow skis and a larger tent, which slept eight. He’d also purchased several rods and reels for fishing on Blue Lakes.

  At this point, Hunter was interested in adding backups to items already purchased. In his mind, after the country hit rock bottom, the Walmart, Safeway, and Costco stores wouldn’t be open for business. If their only tent were to blow away in a sudden windstorm, then they would be without a tent. A backup made perfect sense, and if he had time, he’d purchase a backup to the backup.

  “How are you doin’ over there?” asked Hunter, who could only see Mac’s bare foot through all of the gear crammed in between them.

  Mac wiggled her toes in response, but then managed a groaning answer, “Can’t breathe.” She followed that with a fake cough.

  “Very funny,” said Hunter with a laugh. “Would you rather me rent a U-Haul truck?”

  “Does it have satellite radio?” she asked.

  “Nope.”

  “I think this will do just fine,” said Mac. “When is enough, enough?”

  Hunter contemplated the question for a moment. He really didn’t have an answer for that one. “I guess it depends.”

  “Depends on what?” Mac asked, trying to make a hole in the gear so she could see Hunter’s face. It wasn’t gonna happen.

  “It depends on how long you wanna live,” he replied.

  “Whoa, that’s deep.”

  Hunter passed Georgetown on the left, an old mining town founded in 1859, the year of the Carrington Event, but that’s another story. The historic setting was used for the filming of Every Which Way But Loose, starring Clint Eastwood, and The Christmas Gift, starring John Denver. After passing the quaint town, Interstate 70 began its climb into the higher elevations.

  “I’ve thought about this a lot, Mac,” started Hunter. “We don’t know how long it will take for this pandemic to burn itself out. What if a vaccine or cure can’t be found? Seriously, I envision a period of time where we have to stay away from people and maybe even animals.”

  “How long?” asked Mac.

  “You might be able to shed some light on that,” he replied. “Have you ever considered, as maybe part of your college studies, what a doomsday scenario looks like?”

  “Like the epi curve?” asked Mac.

  “Yeah, sort of. The question I have is, at what point does the disease burn itself out?”

  Mac sat quietly for a moment. Hunter could tell the realities were setting in for her, but he didn’t want to overwhelm Mac with the prospects of a long-term isolation any more than he had to. Finally, she shared her thoughts out loud.

  “I’ve never really thought of that. The thing is, the plague will never burn itself out, as you say. The disease has been around for millennia, although the bacteria’s genetic traits have changed over time into more virulent strains. The bacterium will always find a new host, whether it be two-legged, four-legged, or insects.”

  “Okay, so consider the scenario. Two months ago, the plague was manageable, right?”

  “Yes. The cases were few and far between. Outbreaks were limited to areas where it’s endemic, like Madagascar.”

  Hunter exited the interstate and drove around the Dillon Reservoir, a three-thousand-acre freshwater lake that was the primary water supply to Breckenridge and the surrounding ski resorts. He continued. “Isn’t it plausible that at some point in time, due to a culling of the population, the plague will become isolated to various regions of the world although it might still reside in rats, fleas, and small animals?”

  “A culling?” asked Mac.

  “Okay,” replied Hunter. “Maybe that’s a poor choice of words. But consider this, the net effect of this plague pandemic—and that’s what it is, a pandemic—the net effect will involve a process of segregating humans according to a desired or undesired characteristic—infected or uninfected. The uninfected, like us, will have to separate ourselves from those who are infected or who are suspected of being infected.”

  “I get it,” said Mac. “I’ve associated the word culling with the removal of an unwanted animal like livestock breeders do. They keep a certain number in the herd and they send the rest to slaughter. In your mind, as the plague spreads, the sick will have to be kept away from the uninfected through some sort of culling process.”

  Hunter didn’t answer as they entered the town of Breckenridge. He looked at people casually strolling through the shops while others enjoyed a cocktail in outdoor restaurants. Scanning his surroundings, he counted three dozen or so people, and he wondered to himself, Which of these innocent souls would be culled, and how would they do it?
/>   Chapter 52

  Day Forty-Four

  Quandary Peak

  Breckenridge

  Mac and Hunter unloaded the Defender and added to the pile of provisions in the expansive basement. The largest open room was partially below grade, so it was naturally cool in the summer. A single full bathroom had been completed when the house was constructed, and other than steel poles, which supported the upper floors, the space was devoid of partition walls.

  “If we had metal shelves, we’d look like a mini Costco warehouse,” quipped Mac.

  “Yeah, except we have more products than they do,” responded Hunter.

  Mac walked through the stacks of nonperishable foods, cleaning supplies, and everyday hygiene items like shampoos, soap, and dental care. In the corner of the room, she stumbled upon Hunter’s first delivery—weapons and ammunition.

  “In addition to surviving up here for decades, it appears you’re ready for war,” Mac said as she picked up an AR-10 and felt its weight in her hands.

  “If we stayed in the city as society collapsed around us, we’d need these guns and much more to survive. Up in the mountains, I’d like to think what I’ve acquired was out of an abundance of caution. Hopefully, we won’t have any trouble.”

  “What if someone tries to take our stuff?” asked Mac.

  “Then we’ll defend ourselves and our provisions, with force if necessary. Mac, if we don’t have the ability to protect what we have, we might as well help the bad guys load it into their truck.”

  “It’ll be a lot different than playing paintball,” she muttered.

  Hunter took her in his arms and held her as they stared down at the thousands of rounds of ammunition neatly stored and stacked in green ammo cans. “Killing is never easy, but it beats the alternative.”

  The two stood silently for a moment, considering what Hunter said, and surveyed the stacks of supplies. They began to organize their purchases into distinct piles.

  Everything related to security was kept next to the weapons. Alternative energy like solar-related gear together with camping supplies were set near the French doors overlooking the valley. Food and beverages were piled near the stairwell. Cleaning supplies and toiletries were stacked near the bathroom.

  “What are we missing?” asked Mac.

  “We have two glaring holes in my plan,” replied Hunter. “One is the ability to grow our own food in the future and the other is medical supplies.”

  “Have you ever grown your own food?” asked Mac.

  “No.”

  “Nor have I. Somehow, I think there’s more involved than just throwing a bunch of seed in the ground and hoping for the best.”

  Mac walked to the window and looked into the backyard. It stretched fifty feet to a white rail fence, and then it dropped seventy feet to the bottom of the ravine. “We have a little room for a garden. Maybe we could build a greenhouse over there. We’d have to cut down some trees, however.”

  “Crap! I need to buy a chainsaw,” exclaimed Hunter. “I’ll need fuel, oil mix, and bar oil as well.” He pulled out his iPhone and began tapping notes into his checklists.

  “Do you get the sense that we’re gonna forget something?”

  “Yeah, every minute of every day. Seriously, when I was stalking Hassan through the mall the other day, it was all I could do not to make a quick stop in Dick’s Sporting Goods to buy a crossbow.”

  “Like the guy on The Walking Dead has?”

  “Exactly,” replied Hunter. “Think about how loud a hunting rifle is. Nothing screams, hey, we’re over here like a gunshot reverberating off these canyon walls. We may need to hunt with a bow just to keep the noise level down.”

  Mac started toward the stairs and Hunter followed her, making additional notes in his checklists. “Don’t worry about the medical supplies list, I’ll help with that,” said Mac over her shoulder as they climbed the stairs. “That’s assuming, of course, the shelves at Walgreens haven’t been emptied.”

  “Tomorrow. For now, let’s go into town and get something to eat. I wanna get a feel for what people are like around here.”

  “Why?” asked Mac.

  “To see if they’ll be a problem later,” replied Hunter.

  *****

  There were over two hundred small retail shops located in Breckenridge, which was a large number considering their full-time resident population of less than five thousand spread out through the surrounding mountains.

  The stores were primarily geared toward visitors with the vast majority devoted to gifts, clothing, and sporting goods. Restaurants were everywhere, but Mac and Hunter were craving pizza, so they ventured down Main Street to Extreme Pizza, a business built by people who claimed to have snowboarded before there were snowboards and who prided themselves on coloring outside the lines. Certainly, their pizzas reflected their wild and crazy approach to life.

  Mac and Hunter decided on something rad, as suggested by a young guy standing in line with them who looked like he was straight off the cover of Skateboarder magazine. Rad, at Extreme Pizza, meant Hanoi Fever, a pizza topped with shredded pork marinated in hoisin sauce, peanuts, jalapenos, carrots, and fresh cilantro. Two ice-cold Budweisers helped Mac and Hunter put out the fire that came with every bite of pizza.

  The restaurant was built in a beautiful Victorian-style house with fireplaces and multiple levels of dining. It was having a busy evening, so Mac and Hunter shared a table on the upstairs porch overlooking Main Street, with a local couple.

  They struck up a conversation with Chloe and Axel Matthews, the proprietors of The Local Market and Liquor Shed across the street from Extreme Pizza. They’d cashed in their shares of Apple stock years ago, quit their jobs as programmers, and acquired the circa-1880 home built in the mining days of Breckenridge.

  They’d replaced the old newspaper used as insulation with the new pink stuff, as Chloe called it, and opened a small variety store with their savings. In the small space, they sold everything from groceries to liquor, with some hardware products mixed in.

  Mac and Hunter truly enjoyed the conversation with Chloe and Axel, which stretched way into the evening. After pizza, they made the rounds to a couple of bars and enjoyed several beers. On a couple of occasions, Axel offered to roll one, dangling a small Ziploc bag of marijuana in front of Hunter’s face. They wanted to smoke a joint outside, which was apparently commonplace in Breckenridge, but Mac and Hunter respectively declined.

  For several hours, thoughts of plagues and pandemics slipped their minds. They enjoyed the beers and conversations with two people their age who’d given up everything they’d accumulated in Silicon Valley to lead the simple life in a tiny town full of free birds and people who didn’t have a care in the world.

  On the drive up to Quandary Peak, Mac and Hunter laughed at how two people their age could be so radically different, pardon the pun. The world was made up of all kinds of people who could get along if they’d take the time to get to know one another.

  Chapter 53

  Day Forty-Five

  Quandary Peak

  Breckenridge

  Hunter and Mac were getting ready after spending their first night at Quandary Peak. They both were amazed at how incredibly quiet it was. They’d opened the windows to allow the cool night air to circulate through the house, and rarely heard a noise except for the screeching or hoot of an owl.

  “Why would we ever want to leave this place?” said Mac, still contemplating how long it would take for a sense of normalcy to return to the world after the pandemic ended. “My place in Buckhead had continuous noise invading it. Traffic, adjacent residents, and airplanes could be heard in the background constantly.”

  “My home was pretty quiet except for the air traffic,” added Hunter. “The isolation at Quandary Peak is almost eerie. I really like it. Mac, if the world falls apart, I think we can get comfortable here.”

  Hunter grabbed the remote and turned up the volume to hear a news report. The former surgeon general f
rom the prior administration was being interviewed on Good Morning America.

  “The nation’s current stock of antibiotics to treat the worst-case plague scenario is woefully inadequate. With the limited supply, attending physicians are having to make some tough decisions. For example, who gets treated first?

  “In addition, you have problems that are logistical to an extent. Supply can’t keep up with demand. Many of these drugs are manufactured overseas and those countries are producing medications for their own citizens, not ours. This is one of the unintended consequences of outsourcing a manufacturing process as critical as medications.

  “Let me add this as well. The antibiotics of last resort are causing a large number of adverse reactions in patients, especially those who are weak or infirm. There are reports of overly aggressive courses of treatment in an effort to save a life, which has resulted in the inflammation of the brain and heart.”

  Mac was ready and grabbed a notepad off the dresser. Last night, after Hunter fell asleep, she’d made a list of medical supplies they’d need to cover everything from basic first aid to a serious trauma.

  He was about to turn off the program when Mac stopped him. “Let’s hear this part.”

  “Our hospitals are turning away far more patients than they are accepting. We have several examples of patients of Hispanic or Middle Eastern descent being refused treatment because of their race and origin. The American public needs to understand that just because this plague bacteria originated in Central America or possibly the Middle East doesn’t mean everyone descending from those regions of the world should be ostracized or attacked. This is a time to pull together, not create divisions based upon race or religion.”

  Mac nodded and Hunter turned off the TV. “I’m afraid that’s easier said than done,” he said as they walked down the open, winding staircase. “It’s human nature to identify distinguishing characteristics and make judgments accordingly. Only further interaction with another person will help overcome the way you think, feel, and act toward someone.”