by Dean James
He got up from his chair, grabbed his laptop and made his way to the kitchen. He passed by the steps leading up towards his sleeping family, longing for his own bed. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He needed to try and get a handle on what had his friend so shaken.
He threw on a pot of coffee, and powered on his laptop. As soon as he had a steaming cup of goodness in front of him, he grabbed paper and pencil and hit the net.
A quiet recall of Special Forces would not be that alarming. It is the nature of the job to remain highly mobile and reactionary. Rotating back to the States early was not overly surprising these days. But when those scenarios are coupled with country wide military lockdowns, a broader picture starts to emerge.
Something had those in power shitting themselves.
The bigger the problem, the harder those in Washington would work to hide it. It was standard operating procedure to bury information when national security, or political careers, were at stake.
This, of course, did not stop the internet. A cursory glance over the major news networks gave him nothing. The world was in Christmas mode and the news reflected that. There was more fighting in the Middle East, and flu season was back with a vengeance. There was nothing that struck him as overly concerning.
“Shit. Still need to go Christmas shopping. My Little Pony, Spongebob…kill me now,” he smiled as he scrawled across the paper. He thought for a moment, and wrote “flu?” before going back to his search.
He spent the next couple hours delving deeper into the internet. He found nothing of any significance on any of the major media outlets. He decided to shift his searches to more unconventional sources of information. He hit personal blogs, news forums, and even the occasional conspiracy theory page. He furiously took notes, jotting websites down that were particularly interesting.
One site he found showed a makeshift hospital, beds lined with sick and bleeding. Each bed had an armed guard standing over it. Another showed mass graves in some unnamed jungle filled with corpses wrapped in white linens stained red with blood. A group of men stood at the edge of the graves and appeared to be shooting into the bodies.
“Terrorists? Militias? Bio weapon? Virus? Ebola? Hanta?” he wrote.
The next site hosted an image labeled “China”. It was a color image of a rural village. The dirt roads were covered in bodies, looking as though they had dropped where they walked. The well worn road was awash in the blood of the dead. Men in bright yellow biohazard suits walked amongst the bodies. The image was dated three days prior.
“Biohazard!” he noted.
His list grew the longer he searched. “Epidemic. Unknown origin. Virulent pathogen. Plague.” Every site gave him one more piece to an increasingly gruesome puzzle.
The pattern was hard to deny. His sources were questionable at best, however. The idea that a deadly disease burning through the jungles of the world had gone unnoticed by the World Health Organization or the CDC was ludicrous. But when he went to their websites, he found nothing. They were instead dedicated to the flu season, and a small SARS outbreak in the UK.
He took a sip of coffee as he scanned the CDC website, immediately spitting out the ice cold beverage. He looked at the clock and sighed. He had lost track of time, and it was now only three hours until sunrise. He decided to check an earlier site one more time before going to bed.
He typed in the site address, and sat back in his chair, stunned. The page he expected was no longer there. Instead he was met with the emblem of the Department of Justice and the U.S. Department of Homeland Security. A message emblazoned across the screen read “This domain name has been seized”. The next site he went to simply wouldn’t load. Yet another just redirected him to a page promising a date with a bored and lonely housewife.
Chris closed his laptop, now certain of two things. Some kind of infection was rearing its ugly head, and the government was scared enough to hide it. It was an election season after all, and a lethal disease doesn’t help with polling.
His mind went into overdrive as he got up and made his way upstairs. He began formulating plans for the next day. He was an avid collector of firearms, that wasn’t a problem. He would need feed for the animals, along with food and water for his family. He wasn’t sure how long he had, but his gut told him it was time to prepare.
He silently crept across the oak floors on the second floor of his century old farmhouse. The planks groaned under his steps as he snuck past his own bedroom and down the narrow hallway to check on his daughters.
He looked in on his 8 year old daughter, Faith. She was sleeping soundly, her long golden curls resting on her fair skinned cheeks. She wrapped herself in a pink comforter, hugging her pillow tightly to her chest.
He crept along towards his bedroom, grimacing when a loose floorboard popped. He cringed, waiting to see if someone stirred before continuing on.
Chris stopped in front of his wife’s full length mirror after stepping into his room. Even in the dark he could see his once tall and toned military physique had softened from Anna’s home cooking. The work on the farm however was more than enough to keep his physical strength in check. He lay next to his wife, trying to shake off the dread creeping into his mind long enough to get a couple hours of sleep.
The room was still dark when something tapping on his foot brought him back to consciousness. In the gloom he could just make out the silhouette of Faith standing at the foot of his bed.
“Hey,” he got out through his desert dry mouth. “What are you doing up?”
“Daddy, I don’t feel good,” she said before falling to the floor unconscious.
Chapter Ten
Chris leapt from the bed, picking up his daughter and gently laying her on the mattress. His wife startled awake as he snapped the lights on and started frantically throwing on his clothes. Anna’s confusion quickly abated as she saw the sickness on her daughter’s unconscious face. He grabbed his truck keys from the night stand, stuffing them into his pocket. He went to his closet and pulled out his Sig 9mm and Colt .380.
“Where are you going?” Anna asked.
“Taking Faith to the clinic,” he said, stuffing his weapon into his concealed holster.
“With a gun?”
“Gut feeling. I just feel like being overly cautious today,” he said, scooping his daughter into his arms.
“Take this, don’t go anywhere today. Don’t let anyone in until I get home,” he said, shoving the .380 into Anna’s hands.
“Chris, you’re scaring me,” she said.
“Let me know when you’re terrified. Then we’ll be even,” he said, rushing out the door. Anna followed on his heels, rattling off the small list of shots Faith had received in the previous three months. Chris threw on his jacket after laying Faith on the sofa. He grabbed an extra box of ammo from the hall closet as Anna wrapped Faith in a heavy blanket.
Once Faith was back in his arms, he walked with his wife to the front door. She carried a small bundle of paperwork with her. Stuffing the documents into the front pocket of her husband’s coat, she gently kissed Faith on her feverish cheek while stroking her sweat soaked hair.
Faith’s bloodshot eyes opened. Her arms lifted out of the blanket slowly, reaching for her mother. She gripped the loose collar of Anna’s nightgown, pulling her close and wrapping her arms around her mom’s neck. Faith worked her jaws, opening and closing her mouth. She pulled her mother tight to her face.
“I’ll get better soon. Don’t worry mommy,” she whispered into Anna’s ear. Tucking her arms back under the blanket, she closed her eyes and slipped back into a deep sleep.
“Lock the doors, don’t go anywhere, and don’t let anyone in,” Chris said as he bounded down the stairs toward his pick-up.
The tires of the old silver Dodge kicked up gravel as Chris sped down the long driveway towards the main county road. He had chosen this house because of the seclusion. It was out of the way, set far enough back that it could hardly be seen from the main road
. The land rolled across gently sloping hills, ending in a line of trees running the length the main road for as far as he could see.
Tires screeched as they left the gravel and dirt of the farm driveway and hit the solid asphalt of the county road. He held his daughters shivering hand as he sped towards the urgent care center. He was determined to cut the twenty minute drive in half as his speedometer topped 100mph. It had crossed his mind that he might be over reacting a little bit, but he wasn’t willing to risk anything with his daughter’s life.
The sun had just peaked over the horizon when he pulled into the clinic’s parking lot. Other than a lone car occupying a space near a large delivery door on the side of the building, the area was deserted. It was early, but Chris couldn’t remember a time where the clinic was so devoid of people. No matter the hour he had driven by, there were always several cars in the lot. It was very strange to see the place so empty.
He parked in the front of the building and tried to peer through the building’s shaded windows. All the lights on the inside were off and the door was locked despite the door sign proclaiming “We’re Always Open”.
“Power outage?” he questioned. He doubted the idea even as he spoke it. The large generator in back would have kicked on as soon as power went out. He knew the clinic owners, and they were responsible enough to keep plenty of fuel in the tanks to keep the building powered. He thought he saw some movement inside as he peered through the glass doors into the darkness.
“I have a sick kid out here. I need help. If someone’s in there please, my daughter is very sick!” he pleaded. No answer came from inside. Whatever he had seen moving around had stopped.
It quickly became clear to him that he would not find the help he needed at this clinic. The hospital was over an hour away, but he had no choice. He climbed back into the truck in time to catch Faith retching. Dry heaves came with such force her face had turned bright red.
“It’s okay baby girl, daddy’s gonna get help,” he said. A feeling of helplessness crept into him as he looked into his daughters eyes.
He slammed the accelerator, sending tendrils of white smoke in the air. In less than a heartbeat he was back on the road thundering towards the hospital. His mind drifted to the images he poured over just a few hours prior, and he feared the absolute worst. Since it was too early to worry about traffic, he accelerated well above speed limit.
Chris was halfway to the hospital before he realized he had forgotten his phone. He would have to call home as soon as he got Faith checked in. She was fast asleep again, laying her head on his lap. Her body was pale, except for her cheeks that burned red with fever. He rolled his window down a crack, hoping the frigid air would help keep her fever down. Faith groaned and pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders.
Turning the radio on to try and distract his thoughts from playing out the worst scenarios possible, he went straight to the news. He didn’t have to wait long for national and international news. When the local population can be counted in the hundreds, local news didn’t take long.
It was filled with reports of sudden hospital overcrowding in the US and abroad. There were even unverified reports that some hospitals overseas had gone into quarantine. This information only served to add to Chris’ already overflowing paranoia.
Twenty minutes later Chris pulled into the ER parking lot. The hospital was a modern facility recently built by Wisconsin’s rural health care system. It was a small two story building. The concrete walls were bright and clean, still with the luster of new construction. Dark shaded windows spanned the length of the building on each floor. A mirrored glass dome sat atop the roof, no doubt to allow natural light into the building. The long pedestrian walkway to the ER stood covered with a metal framed awning, the top of which was adorned with the same reflective glass as the roof dome. The emergency bay held one ambulance.
Chris scanned the area, looking for anything out of the ordinary. The parking lot was almost full, but there were no outward signs of panic. People walked in and out of the building, with no real concern on their faces. It appeared the growing fears across the globe had not yet reached the rural heartland.
He looked down at Faith, and found her awake and staring back at him. “You ready to go inside and get better?” he asked with a big smile.
“Yes, please!”
“Let’s go!” he said more cheerily than he actually felt.
He slid out of his seat and went straight to the passenger door. He popped the door open, and picked up the shivering Faith bundle before shutting the door with his foot. He checked to be sure his weapon was concealed before heading to the emergency doors.
As he approached, a tall skinny man and two shorter women in blue scrubs emerged from behind the glass doors. They each wore double layers of gloves, their faces covered with masks and clear plastic vomit shields. Every inch of their skin was covered. Even their shoes were covered with yellow protective cloth.
“Sir, please stop!” the tallest of the three said holding his hand up.
“My daughter is sick. She’s running a high fever and she been throwing up all morning,” Chris said stepping forward.
“Sir, stop!” he ordered.
“What the hell is the matter with you? What’s going on here?” Chris demanded.
“Has your daughter traveled out of the country in the last ninety days?” the older of the two women asked.
“No. Not even out of town. What’s this about?”
“Sir, are you sure?” Old Blue Scubs asked.
“Of course I’m sure!” Chris shouted.
“Sir, if you don’t calm down we’ll be forced to call security. You can bring her in,” Old Scrubs said with as much compassion and warmth as a dead fish.
Chris carried his daughter past the welcoming committee and laid her on a cot in front of the nurse’s station. Faith was immediately wheeled into triage where Young Scrubs began to examine her. She buzzed around Faith’s bed, asking questions and taking notes, but never removing her protective barriers.
“Doctor Urban, can you come here please?” Young Scrubs said looking into Faith’s left ear.
Tall Scrubs, or Dr. Urban came into the room and walked straight to the left side of Faith’s head. Taking the instrument into his hands he squinted as he looked deeply into her ear canal.
“Acute otitis media,” he mumbled. “No rupture that I can see, but the fever is a bit high for it. Let’s run her blood to be sure there’s nothing else going on. In the mean time I’ll call pharmacy and get some antibiotics in her.”
“Yes doctor,” the nurse replied.
“Oral only unless absolutely necessary. Understand?” The doctor gave a stern look to Young Scrubs as she backed out of the room.
“Yes doctor,” she said with a hint of sarcasm. The doctor didn’t see it, but Chris saw her shaking her head just before she was out of his view.
“Umm, doctor. With all due respect, I am sitting right here. Can you please tell me what’s happening? Who is a cute Otis, and what does it have to do with my daughter?” Chris demanded. He was trying to stay calm, but truthfully his patience was wearing paper thin.
“Acute Otitis Media,” Dr. Urban spoke as if Chris was a five year old trying to get hooked on phonics. “It means she has an ear infection, and a bad one too. Nurse Medina will be back in a few minutes with some medication to help clear it up. Normally we would give her medicine through IV, but there’s a sudden shortage in supplies, and our stock was already low to begin with. As long as your daughter can take fluids orally we need to save our equipment for the most critical cases.”
“Well then, what was with the warm welcome at the door?” Chris inquired.
“Oh, that. There has been some concern about some bug overseas. I’m sure you heard about it. It seems to be all over the news this morning,” Urban said.
“Has anyone come in with anything like what they are talking about?” Chris asked. He didn’t believe the doctor’s answer. The interroga
tion at the front door seemed too direct for something the doctor had just heard on the news.
Dr. Urban shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing that I’m concerned with. It’s flu season and we have our hands full with that. We honestly don’t even know if there’s anything to be worried about. We’re just being overly cautious. Besides, you needn’t worry about anything other than getting your daughter well.”
The doctor’s words hung in the air as he walked out of the room. He was sure the doctor was hiding something, but Chris had the distinct impression that the doctor would not spill his secrets anytime soon. Instead of wasting his time interrogating the stubborn doctor, he used the phone at the nurse’s station to call Anna. He spent the next fifteen minutes explaining to his wife why she had not heard from them for over an hour, and apologizing for scaring her to death.
After updating her on Faith, he asked her to call his sister-in-law. He knew Abby worked at a hospital, but wasn’t sure what she did. His brother Dan told him what she did once, but he wasn’t paying attention. He did know she was a manager and Chris thought she would have some insight if something strange was happening.
He hung up the phone and returned to Faith’s room, sitting in the cold plastic chair next to his daughter’s bed. He found himself listening to the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor somewhere in the ER. The beeps became hypnotic and soon his body reminded him of how little sleep he actually had.
He tried to shake the exhaustion when Nurse Medina came in. She woke Faith long enough to swallow a couple pills and an orange fluid, informing Chris it was for dehydration. She helped Faith change into a hospital gown while giving Chris instructions on her home care. She spoke fast, whirling around the room like a brunette tornado. She handed him a small vial of ear drops, and after a couple rehearsed words of encouragement she flew out of the room, closing the curtain behind her.
