Quarantine: A Pandora Novel

by McCrohan, Richard

  Smiling, Rick said, “Yeah, yeah. I’m just walking out the door.”

  Getting up to put his dishes in the drain he absently turned the television off as he spoke, “I’ll pick up Eileen and then swing by to get you. Does that work for you, PJ?”

  “Perfect,” he replied. “Mora is already at the house, so it will save you a stop.”

  Laughing, Rick commented, “Mora’s already there? Why she probably can’t wait to hear Vernon Knox speak today.”

  Now joining his friend in laughter, PJ said, “Yeah, right. She’s practically gagging at the thought of sitting there for over an hour listening to him talk about pandemics, plagues and the coming demise of world civilization. It’s only lunch alfresco, drinks and a nice dinner in the city that’s keeping her from committing hari kari.”

  “Eileen isn’t that bad,” chuckled Rick, “but she’d just as soon skip the whole lecture thing and go right to a bottle of wine in some streetside café.”

  “I hear you, bro,” agreed PJ. “Just get a move on it before Mora gets access to the cutlery.”

  Grabbing his keys from the hall table Rick said, “Okay, on my way.” Quickly locking his apartment door, Rick turned and still smiling walked to the elevator to go down to the parking garage. While walking to his car his cell phone rang again.

  “Hello?” he spoke.

  “Rick, it’s your father.”

  “Hi, Dad,” he said with a smile, “what’s up?”

  “I’m just letting you know that I was going to be going to your brother Jonathan’s house this afternoon. His two little girls are home sick again and I told him I’d stop by to stay for a bit and cheer them up.”

  “Sounds like a great idea, Dad,” Rick said.

  “You’re still going to be driving into the city?” his father asked.

  “Yes, Dad. Still going.”

  “Well,” his father continued, “you know that I’m not too crazy about you going there in the midst of all that’s happening right now.”

  “Dad,” Rick said good-naturedly, “we’ll be in the museum all day. What can happen to was there? Maybe get hit by a dinosaur bone? Listen, I’m running late. I’ll talk to you later.”

  They both said their goodbyes and still smiling Rick pocketed his iPhone.

  Rick Sturges was a handsome, dark-haired, young man with a quick wit and a ready smile. At six foot two and 180 pounds, he wore his hair parted on the side and swept back away from his face. It just grazed the tops of his ears and fell to the start of his collar.

  During college, Rick started working at a local optician’s office in his hometown of Summit, New Jersey. He liked the work and wound up getting his optical license. Now at age twenty-four he was on his own and working at an ophthalmologist’s office and running his optical department. The doctor and both his optical assistant and receptionist were home with this new Pandora strain of virus and had closed the office. Rick was using this sudden opportunity to go into New York City with PJ, his best friend, to hear the lecture at the Museum. They were both psyched about this event and couldn’t wait to get there.

  Leaving the elevator, Rick walked to his car, a red Nissan Juke, and upon entering started it and drove it out of the underground parking area. He headed to his girlfriend’s place. After picking her up they continued onto PJ’s house where he still lived with his parents. His friend was already waiting outside with his girlfriend.

  As Rick pulled up in front of the white, split-level home PJ’s parents owned, the two new passengers jumped in immediately. PJ scrambled across the seat and enthusiastically high-fived Rick.

  “All right man, we’re ready to get this parade on the road,” PJ said laughing.

  Rick had a big smile on his face. “I am so ready for this lecture. It’s going to be awesome.” Looking next to his friend, he grinned at the amused girl beside him, “Hey, Mora.”

  PJs girlfriend returned his smile and said, “Hi, Rick. Are you two super geeks done yet? Eileen and I are probably going to die of boredom there.”

  Turning around in her seat Eileen Purcell, Rick’s girl, said, “Don’t worry Mora, we’ll make them pay for having us sit through that. Dinner and drinks at The View in Times Square should do it.”

  The two girls started talking about the revolving restaurant atop the tall hotel in the middle of Times Square and how beautiful it would be. Truthfully, the boys were looking forward to it also.

  Rick and PJ were discussing the book The Coming Plagues and various alternative scenarios of a viral Armageddon. Rick flipped on the car radio for background music almost unconsciously. Like most people of his age, he felt everything should be accompanied by a musical soundtrack. They were on Route 3 heading for the Lincoln Tunnel when a news broadcast interrupted the music.

  “This is a special bulletin from the WNYE news team. The Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta have started to report a number of new incidents of the Pandora virus reemergence in several American east coast cities. The CDC along with Homeland Security have recommended that all people who were previous victims of the original Pandora virus should report back to the hospital and be seen by the emergency room doctors there to monitor their health. We here at WNYE news will continue to keep you abreast of the situation as it occurs.”

  Then Coldplay came back on in mid-song. PJ, who had been leaning between the seats listening closely, glanced at Rick with concern.

  “Wow. I guess it was just a matter of time before we were hit too. That sucks. I’ll bet it’s going to be standing room only at the museum now.”

  As the car rounded the ramp to the Lincoln Tunnel, Rick slowed to pay the toll. The traffic was light for Saturday morning. True, it was still early for the theater crowd, but still and all, there were fewer cars than normal. Heading for one of the entry tunnels, Rick noticed a transit bus pulled over to the side of the road and surrounded by Port Authority officers and local police vehicles. As they passed close by, Rick glanced over and saw some kind of commotion going on inside the interior of the bus.

  Turning his head to look out of the passenger side window, PJ commented, “It looks as if someone had a heart attack or something on the way into the tunnel.”

  “That’s an awful lot of cop cars for just a heart attack,” Eileen said nervously.

  Passing into the Lincoln Tunnel proper Rick said, “Yeah, she’s right. Something else is going on in there. I can’t imagine what though.”

  The automobiles, trucks and buses started to slow as the red glow from multiple brake lights blinked on and off. The flow of tunnel traffic then picked up again. A sickly, almost greenish glow pervaded over everything in the tube as the tunnel lights reflected onto the grimy tiles. Inside Rick’s red Juke, the sight of the bus cast a somber pall over everyone seated there.

  “You don’t think it had anything to do with Pandora, do you?” PJ asked breaking the silence inside the car.

  “What?” said Rick.

  “That bus back there,” said PJ, “you don’t think it had to do with the Pandora virus? I mean, with the radio announcement and everything, it could be.”

  “Oh, stop with the conspiracy theories PJ,” laughed his girlfriend Mora. “We are going to get enough of that at the lecture.”

  PJ looked at her in astonishment. “Conspiracy theory? What are you, you kidding me? Haven’t you been listening to all of the newscasts on television and radio?”

  “So?” Mora responded.

  “So, there is a worldwide pandemic going on,” PJ said, “and now it seems to have reappeared or mutated or something and all of the people who had the original Pandora virus are getting sick all over again. That’s no conspiracy, that’s reality. And this zombie thing happening overseas... that seems to be all from the Pandora comet, also.” PJ shook his head in wonderment. “I don’t know Mora. Sometimes you just amaze me.”

  Suddenly flaring in anger, Mora retorted back, “Oh, give me a break PJ. You hear about one bad thing happening and suddenly you believe it’s everywhe
re. You’re always rambling on about some catastrophe or another. Jesus, I think you love that stuff. I’ll bet you can’t wait for an apocalypse or whatever to happen. It would probably make you ecstatic.”

  Just then Rick slammed on the brakes as a car in the next lane veered over and cut right in front of them.

  “Jesus Christ,” he yelled. “What are you, nuts? You can’t do that!”

  There was a sudden stoppage of traffic in the other lane. As red lights flared, all of the vehicles stopped moving. Immediately, horns began their insistent blaring.

  “I can’t believe he did that,” complained Eileen, shaking her head.

  All of a sudden brake lights flashed before them as the cars in front of them slowed to a halt.

  “Oh, for...” mumbled Rick disgustedly.

  They sat there unmoving for a while before Rick’s lane started to slowly creep forward again. He could see that the problem in the other lane wasn’t too far up ahead. A car had run into the side wall of the tunnel and was sitting motionless while all the unmoving vehicles behind lay on their horns in impatient dismay. As the cars in Rick’s lane slowly pulled ahead, he saw a door open on the Lexus that was directly behind the motionless car blocking traffic. A man emerged and quickly walked over to the offending car, all the while yelling at the unseen driver. As Rick approached, the man banged on the other driver’s window. He then reached down and opened the stalled vehicle’s door; and as Rick passed by, the man leaned into the car’s interior. Rick lost sight of him as he drove ahead, but the automobile directly behind him slowed to a stop. PJ and Mora were kneeling on the back seats staring out of the rear window.

  “Is that screaming I hear?” asked Mora.

  “Jeez,” said PJ, “it sounds like it’s coming from the stopped car.”

  “You sure?” asked Rick, trying to see what was happening behind him.

  Just then, the car that had stopped right behind them to look suddenly raced away. It came up right behind Rick, then tires screeching, veered around them and shot forward down the other empty lane. Rick’s vehicle slowed as a commotion started behind them at the accident site. People were yelling and all the cars quickly sped up and away from the stalled car with its door open.

  Eileen who had her head out of her now open window, quickly ducked back inside and shouted, “Rick, speed up! Let’s just get out of this tunnel.”

  He stepped on the gas and they joined the other vehicles trying to exit the tunnel tube as rapidly as they could. As they left the underground and finally emerged into daylight they noticed a white delivery truck with Chinese characters on the sides was pulled off to the side and two New York squad cars were blocking the vehicle. An ambulance was just pulling away.

  “What the hell was that?” questioned Rick.

  “I’ll be damned if I know,” answered PJ.

  “It looked as though the cars behind us couldn’t get away fast enough,” replied Eileen. “I’m just glad we’re out of there.”

  “You know,” thought PJ, “I wonder if--”

  “I’ll tell you what I think,” interrupted Mora, knowing PJ was going off on another wacky theory. “I think that someone was hurt in the car and no one wanted to hang around and get involved with the police. By the time they close the tunnel and get an ambulance in there, it would be hours from now. I wouldn’t want to spend my day in that stinky tunnel waiting to give my statement and then hang around even longer while they sorted things out. Forget about it.”

  “I have to agree with Mora on this one,” said Rick. “I think we dodged a bullet there.”

  The conversation continued back-and-forth as their Nissan left the Lincoln Tunnel onto Dyer Avenue and turned left onto West 41st Street. It wasn’t until they turned onto 10th Avenue that they focused once more on their present surroundings. The traffic was light and Rick used this to his advantage as they drove uptown. While the pedestrian traffic was also down, the people who were out seemed to be moving at a speedier pace. Everyone appeared to be in a hurry. Interestingly, the few bodegas and supermarkets were jammed with customers.

  While waiting at a light, they watched as a young couple was leaving a corner brownstone, lugging bags and a baby car seat with them. They were stuffing their belongings in their waiting car as if in a race. They appeared to be very afraid. PJ noticed they were in a No Parking Zone. A homeless man shuffled slowly by them as they cringed away. He reached the corner then put his hands on his knees and vomited into the gutter.

  “Oh, gross,” gagged Mora in disgust.

  “Welcome to New York City,” laughed Rick.

  As the light changed, the wretched looking man vomited again. This time it looked more like blood.

  While they rode to the Museum of Natural History, an uncomfortable silence overtook the group, sucking out the spirit of excitement like a vacuum; leaving in its wake the somber pall of uncertainty. At last Rick turned onto 76th Street and found an underground parking lot near the museum. Rick pulled in and drove down the narrow driveway to the lower level drop off area.

  “For a minute I didn’t think we’d get here,” exclaimed Eileen.

  Looking around for the attendant, Rick smiled, “And yet here we are safe and sound. Ready for the adventure of a lifetime.”

  “Oh, please,” moaned Mora to the loud outbursts of laughter from Rick and PJ. They were all outside the car waiting impatiently for the parking attendant come and take their automobile.

  “Where do you think he is?” PJ asked.

  “I don’t know PJ,” sighed Rick, “maybe he went out for a beer.”

  A sound emerged from a nearby alcove as the door opened. It sounded like a toilet flushing. While all heads turned to the noise, the short, dark Hispanic man rounded the corner. He was walking slowly while absently wiping his mouth with his shirtsleeve.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m here to help you now.”

  “’S’okay,” grinned Rick. “We’ll most likely be a few hours.” He stepped away from his open car door. Looking around at the almost packed lot he remarked, “Wow, it didn’t seem crowded out today, yet I see the lot is almost full.”

  “Yes,” nodded the worker as he filled out the ticket, “most of the tenants of the apartments above didn’t move their cars out today. Unusual.” When he approached, Rick could see his very bloodshot eyes. The man looked positively awful. He seemed to be in pain.

  “Are you okay?” asked Eileen.

  “Yes, yes, si,” said the man. “Thank you, I’m just a little under the weather. I’ll be fine.”

  As he handed the ticket to Rick and he reached for it, he noticed a small, dark smear of blood on the attendant’s sleeve. He stood there looking down at the stiff paper not knowing what to say. When he looked back up the man was already shuffling back to the booth. He didn’t know why, but at that moment he wanted nothing more than to jump back in the car drive quickly back home. Before that feeling could solidify into action, PJ said loudly, “Come on bro, time’s a ’wasting. Let’s get to the museum. It’s getting late. Chop, chop.”

  That snapped Rick out of his reverie and they all turned and marched up the steep driveway toward the bright sunshine up above.

  2

  As the morning was progressing into early afternoon the entire East Coast of the United States began to feel the oncoming effects of the Pandora virus. After devastating Asia and rampaging through Europe and Africa, the mutated virus was starting to show itself on America’s shores. The new mutated strain was only replicating in all of the previous Pandora victims. And unlike the initial Pandora, this new Pandora 2 Mutation was evolving fast. Very fast. It was lethal. It was highly contagious. And it was here.

  After a short, uneventful walk from the parking lot, the foursome entered the massive stone building that was the New York Museum of Natural History. Obtaining passes, they wandered down to the lecture room of the old and respected institution. There were quite a number of people already seated and waiting for Vernon Knox to appear. Rick
swiftly led them to the closest four seats available. The minute they sat down Mora immediately took out her cell phone and started texting friends.

  Mora Tierney was a graduate student in business at Montclair State University in New Jersey. The sweet looking twenty-year-old with long dark hair, Mora had a very narrowly focused interest in the world. She felt as though if anything didn’t directly affect her world and her life then it must be useless bullshit. Although fun and gregarious enough, she had zero imagination. If it wasn’t right there in front of her nose she didn’t believe it, nor did she care. This non-appeasing attitude was the complete reverse of her current boyfriend’s belief set.

  PJ could discern a conspiracy from the letters in his bowl of Alpha-Bits cereal. He was always espousing on some arcane plot whether it be the Illuminati, the Freemasons, men in black or Area 51 escapees. Deep down, Rick wasn’t all that sure that he actually believed all the bullshit, but nonetheless, his fun-loving best friend enjoyed the mystery of it all. PJ Jordan was a native of Clifton, the town in which he and Rick now lived. The gregarious twenty-two-year-old was the site manager of the local construction firm. His dark red, almost auburn hair and tortoiseshell glasses complemented his pleasant face. PJ was slightly overweight, but had a strong and stocky build. At five foot ten and 200 pounds he carried his weight well. He had wrestled in high school making All-State, but had dropped from the team in college. PJ unfortunately liked partying more than he liked training and could never seem to make his chosen weight class. The two young men met two years ago, introduced by a mutual acquaintance and soon became best friends. Rick had always been intrigued by apocalyptic and horror movies and books, and this curtailed nicely into PJ’s belief pattern.