The Jakarta Pandemic

by Steven Konkoly

  “That should do it,” Alex agreed.

  “Did you have to fire that thing three times? What was going on with them?”

  “I needed to convince Todd that I was serious,” Alex replied.

  “What about the last shot? It looked like you were aiming at him,” Ed said.

  “I was aiming between them, plenty of room on either side. I was just using bird shot anyway. I needed Todd to escalate his level of care at that moment. He was a little dismissive, which wasn’t the tone I was looking for.”

  “Well, I think you got his attention. He was running sort of funny on the way back. Like he’d pissed his pants.”

  “I hope so,” Alex said.

  “I need to find the three expended shells. I can see Todd’s wife calling the cops. So if you have everything under control here, I need to remove the evidence from your backyard.”

  “Have at it. I’ll be down here jamming wood into this stupid door.”

  “Maybe there’s a place where you could put a padlock or something and jam the mechanism shut?” Alex asked, backing up out of the light.

  “I’ll let you know if I figure something like that out. Happy hunting,” Ed said.

  “Yep,” Alex said and turned on his flashlight.

  Ten minutes later, he unlocked and opened the door to his garage. He opened the green garbage bin lid, tossed the three expended shells into the bin, and moved one of the trash bags near the top to make sure the shells filtered down a little further so they were out of immediate sight. He planned to reload the speed feeder with three more birdshot shells and made a mental note to find a better way to carry around the double ought shells, just in case he needed more than the bird shot.

  When Alex had decided to keep the shotgun in his closet, he’d opted to keep four birdshot shells loaded in the stock’s spring-loaded speed feeders. This made sense to him on several levels. First, in the unlikely case that he was forced to discharge the weapon inside the house, the birdshot would not pass through the walls with enough kinetic energy to kill or significantly hurt someone on the other side. This was an important consideration for Alex with children in the house.

  His secondary reason for the selection was lethality, or in the case of birdshot, reduction of lethality. In Alex’s opinion, birdshot in a confined space was more than adequate to instantly and wholly incapacitate an intruder, without annihilating them.

  He opened the door to the house and was greeted by a well-lit mudroom. Kate was sitting at the kitchen island, just out of sight of the mudroom door, and poked her head in view briefly. The kitchen was dimly lit by the stove’s under-mounted light.

  “Hey, hon,” he called out, slipping out of his shoes.

  Rather not get stabbed in a case of mistaken identity.

  “What happened out there? I heard some gunshots, so I rushed down here to check on you. By the time I got out into the backyard, I could see you and Ed chatting by his bulkhead. Seemed like everything was under control.”

  “Mike and Todd pulled off a little B and E at Ed’s, through the bulkhead, so I put the fear of Mossberg into them…hon, the hammer’s back on that gun,” he said dryly, leaning the shotgun against the kitchen desk. He stepped around Kate to examine the pistol lying on the kitchen island next to her tea cup. “Which means that just about four pounds of pressure on that trigger and…”

  He picked up the weapon, keeping it pointed toward the mudroom, and depressed the de-cocking lever with his thumb. The hammer fell lightly. He then pressed the magazine release mechanism at the base of the trigger guard. The magazine slid out into his left hand, and he placed it on the island. He then racked the slide and the chambered .45 caliber round popped out of the weapon, hit the island, and rolled off. Alex heard it hit the seat of a stool, then the floor. Kate looked tense as the bullet rolled off the island onto the floor.

  “Don’t worry, hon. You can’t set one of these off by dropping it. You can, however, set one off by keeping the hammer cocked while you traipse around the backyard in the dark. Good way to trip and shoot yourself in the head,” he said, moving to retrieve the bullet from the floor.

  “Yeah, well, I got a little worried when I heard gunfire in the backyard. You know, I don’t think it’s such a great idea for you to be charging through the dark either,” she said, nodding at the shotgun. “You’re not the only one around here with guns. You have no idea what might have been waiting for you in Ed’s backyard. You’re lucky it was only those two idiots. What did they want?”

  “Food, medicine…both. I’m sure they’re convinced that Ed has a huge stash of drugs, too,” he said and sat on the stool next to Kate.

  “Do you think they’d try the same thing here?”

  “Not after tonight, although Todd does seem to have some sort of death wish. I don’t think Susan’s doing well at all. He made a comment about how she won’t be around much longer. The more desperate everyone becomes…who knows what’ll happen around here?”

  “Not much else we can do at this point,” she said, kissing him on the forehead and standing up from her stool. “That’s it, I’m done. I don’t want to be a zombie all day,” she added, shuffling toward the staircase.

  “Big day tomorrow?” he asked.

  “You know it,” she said, laughing softly. “What day is it tomorrow? Today, actually.”

  “Tuesday. Not that it really matters,” he replied.

  “Yeah. No kidding. I love you” she said and started up the stairs.

  “Love you too.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Tuesday, November 26, 2013

  Alex walked across the darkened kitchen into the great room and was pleasantly surprised to find everyone quietly reading. The shades had already been pulled shut, and the room was bathed in the soothing glow of a few strategically placed reading lamps. Kate was on the leather sectional couch, staring at the screen of her iPad, which was propped up against her bent knees. Ryan occupied the other side of the couch, holding Alex’s iPad. A few days before, Alex had shown Ryan how to find and download books, and Ryan found several science fiction books that interested him. Alex had encouraged him to keep searching and ordering books. If the power grid failed nationwide, he wasn’t sure how long they would have internet access, and without books, they would all be facing an extremely long winter.

  He stepped into the family room and put his hand on Emily’s head, softly stroking her hair. She was curled up in one of the oversized leather chairs right inside the great room entrance, eyes closed with a book weakly grasped in her right hand. She opened her eyes slowly as he petted her head.

  “Hey, sweetie. Whatcha reading?” he asked.

  She stifled a yawn and stretched her shoulders back. “Just one of the Explorer series books. I still have like four or five more in the series that I haven’t read yet.”

  “You still like those, huh?” he asked, kneeling down next to her chair.

  “Yeah, I forgot how good they were.”

  “Even without vampires or the undead floating around? Hard to believe.”

  “Even without vampires, Daddy.”

  “Sounds good, cupcake. Why don’t you close your eyes and go back to sleep?” he suggested.

  Emily nodded and started to drift away.

  Kate looked up from the iPad. “How is everyone?” she asked quietly, glancing at Ryan, who appeared undisturbed.

  “Not bad overall,” he said, signaling her with his head to meet him in the other room.

  He walked back into the kitchen, and she joined him shortly after. They both walked over to the den. Alex turned one of the lamps on and they both plopped down into the leather club chairs, keeping the door open.

  “This is a nice room. We should spend more time in here,” Kate said and took a deep breath.

  “Yeah, it is sort of a sanctuary.” He paused. “So it looks like my brother is going to be fine. My parents picked him up from the hospital in Castle Rock this morning and brought him to their house. He still ha
s pneumonia, but I guess he responded well to antibiotics and the intensive intervention that was still miraculously available at that hospital. Lucky bastard. Broke his arm in the car crash.”

  “Why did Karla make your parents drive over an hour out to Castle Rock?” Kate asked angrily.

  “Karla died at the Fort Carson flu triage center last night. My parents had a long day yesterday,” he said flatly.

  “God, those poor kids. I can’t even imagine. Did you know she was sick?”

  “No. I haven’t talked to them for a week. Just a few emails to make sure they were okay. Mom said she came down with symptoms really fast. The kids were already sick, but never got worse. They all took the anti-virals. My mother tore Daniel’s house apart and found the drugs stashed in one of the bathroom closets, still in the original box I sent. Unopened,” he said, shaking his head in disgust. “Anyway, Karla’s dad still lives in Colorado Springs. Made it to Colonel before retiring right outside of Fort Carson. He pulled some strings to get her into the triage center on base. It sounds like she went fast. Complete respiratory breakdown within like a day and a half. Ethan and Kevin are staying with my parents, along with Daniel. It doesn’t sound like Daniel is out of the woods yet. They gave him some strong antibiotics to take home, but he really needs to stay on an antibiotic drip. I don’t know. Sounds like they were actively clearing hospital beds and ventilators for other patients.”

  “I’m really sorry to hear about Karla. I can’t believe it. So fast. She was the world to those kids,” Kate said.

  “That’s why we can’t take any chances here. This thing really seems to be annihilating younger, healthy adults. Karla, Eric Bishop, Joe Burton. All you hear on the news are reports of healthy adults being taken down in the course of a few days. Gone. That’s why we can’t afford a slip up,” Alex said.

  “I know,” Kate agreed. “Should we say anything to the kids?”

  “No. It would just freak them out.”

  “All right. I’m so glad your parents are watching them. I don’t think they would stand a chance if it wasn’t for them,” she said.

  “That’s what I told them. I also told them to go ahead and take the TerraFlu I gave them. They each have two courses of therapy. I forgot I gave them more than one. With the kids and Daniel in the house, they’re bound to get sick. If TerraFlu is in their system before they show symptoms, then they might not even develop more than a mild fever or cough.”

  “Good. You’re right, they’ll be fine. I know they will. I am going to work on some dinner,” Kate said, getting up from her seat.

  “Your clan isn’t still considering a migration up to your brother’s place are they?” he asked her.

  “No, I got an email from them this morning. Too many moving parts. Three cars, barely enough gas to pull it off. They’ve stockpiled a lot of stuff over there, and they’d have to move that too. Princeton is still pretty quiet, but the mayhem is getting closer, spilling out of Philly…New York…northern Jersey. They’re nervous about it, but they’re way better off staying put. God only knows what could happen to them on the road. They’d be forced to transit some highly populated parts of Jersey and Mass…places that look like borderline warzones right now.”

  “I think they made a good call,” Alex said, following her out of the room.

  “How does pasta and sauce sound? Throw some beans in there, maybe?” Kate suggested, opening the pantry door.

  “Works for me,” he said, leaning over to dig an onion out of a red net bag on the floor of the pantry.

  “How many more of those do we have?”

  “Four more in this bag, and we have another bag of about twelve in the bunker.”

  “We do?” she asked.

  “We do. You should spend a little more time down there. You might find all kinds of nice little surprises.” He laughed.

  “Maybe I will.” She took a box of pasta and a large can of crushed tomatoes to the counter next to the stove.

  Alex followed behind her and took a large squat knife out of the knife rack. He put the knife behind his back in a reverse commando grip and moved behind Kate, never exposing her to the blade. Just as he reached the wooden chopping block, their phone rang. He put the knife and onion down and grabbed the phone from the island.

  “Ed,” he said to her and answered the phone. “What’s up, Ed? More funny noises in the basement?” Alex asked.

  “Now that it’s clear that I have Rambo guarding my house, I highly doubt we’ll see either of those two again. Thanks again, I guess. At least you didn’t blast a hole in my house,” Ed said.

  “Nice. Any time, Mr. Appreciative,” Alex replied, smiling at Kate, who was watching him. “Hold on, Ed, while I seek some privacy.”

  “Who is it, Dad?” Ryan called out from the family room.

  “It’s your girlfriend’s dad, Mr. Walker,” Alex said.

  “Great,” Kate sighed.

  “Dad! She’s not my girlfriend!”

  “I’ll be sure to tell him that,” he said and slid the pocket door to the mudroom shut to add a layer of soundproofing, in anticipation of the uproar he may have ignited. He heard Ryan still grumbling to Kate about what he’d said, and he shut the door to the den, locking it to prevent intrusion by an embarrassed twelve-year-old.

  “I’m sure Ryan was happy to hear you say that,” Ed cracked.

  “Yeah, it was like setting off a bomb in the kitchen for Kate to clean up. What’s going on?” Alex asked, switching on the overhead light, which did not please him.

  “I think Jamie’s home. We saw a car pull away from the house about ten minutes ago. Never saw it pull up. Now there are lights on over the garage in the master bedroom. The girls never turned those lights on.”

  “Should we go over there and make sure everything is all right?” Alex asked.

  “I think I’ll call first. Maybe it’s a relative, her parents or something,” Ed said.

  “I thought their families were pretty far away?”

  “Midwest somewhere. That’d be a long trip.”

  “Really long. I doubt it’s a relative.”

  “You’re probably right,” Ed replied.

  “Yet to be wrong,” Alex quipped.

  “Keep running around the neighborhood with a shotgun, and that might change.”

  “That’s what my wife thinks.”

  “She might be on to something,” Ed said. “Anyway, I’ll give her a call. If she’s home, we could bring over some supplies for them later tonight.”

  “Keep me posted,” Alex said.

  “I’ll call you later.” Ed hung up.

  Alex reentered the kitchen and briefed Kate on the most recent development.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Wednesday, November 27, 2013

  Alex lay awake in bed on his left side, staring at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Kate’s arms were wrapped around him, and her body was pressed snuggly into his back. He heard Emily breathing deeply on the other side of Kate. Having both of the kids in the master bedroom made him feel better, more at ease, given the unstable climate in the neighborhood. Their rooms seemed so far away at the other end of the house, and with the staircase emptying in front of the entrances to both of their rooms, he worried about being able to reach them in time if they had an intruder.

  More worries.

  As Alex started drifting back to sleep, he heard the doorbell ring.

  “Who’s that?” Kate mumbled.

  Alex sat up slowly, feeling exhausted by the unplanned two-hour interruption to his sleep last night. He slid out of the covers and walked over to the front window, raised the shade halfway, and saw that a police cruiser was parked on the street in front of their mailbox. He could read “Scarborough Police” on the side of the car.

  “It’s the police. Stay in bed, I’ll see what’s up,” he said and pulled a pair of dark brown corduroy pants out of the closet.

  “If you insist,” Kate said.

  He arrived at the mudroom door dre
ssed in the brown pants, a thin gray long-sleeved shirt, and bare feet. Alex looked through the mudroom door window and saw a police officer standing on the stoop; another officer stood back several paces on the walkway. The furthest officer took a deep breath, exhaling through his mouth, and Alex could clearly see his breath.

  Nasty cold out.

  Neither looked particularly contentious or alarmed, and Alex felt only the typical apprehension he might experience finding two police officers standing outside their door.

  Travelling in pairs? Things must really be going to shit out there.

  He slipped on a pair of Crocs and opened both the interior and storm doors to greet the officers, and was met by an expected rush of bitterly cold air.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” he said, stepping out onto the stoop with the officer.

  “Morning. Mr. Fletcher?” the officer on the stoop asked.

  The other officer nodded a friendly, but stiff greeting. Alex considered the officer standing a few feet from him. From inside the house, the officer looked like any uniformed law enforcement official he had seen before, prior to the pandemic, but on closer inspection, Alex immediately spotted the considerable strain these officers must be facing.

  Officer Hale, as he read from the name badge, looked like he hadn’t shaved in at least two days. That, combined with the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, led Alex to believe that he hadn’t slept much either in the past few days. The condition of his uniform betrayed the same ordeal. Although still far from unserviceable, his uniform was no longer the crisp, heavily starched and pressed navy blue uniform he surely wore just a month ago.

  Glancing furtively, Alex saw that one knee of his uniform pants was dirty, or possibly just worn through. He wasn’t sure, and he didn’t plan to take another look. The last thing he noticed in his cursory examination was that the officer was wearing some kind of enhanced body armor under his cold weather parka. Whatever he was wearing, it didn’t resemble a standard ballistic vest; this one was much thicker, giving his upper body a significant barrel-like appearance.