Inoculation Zero: Welcome to the Stone Age

by Ison, S. A.

  Hot sweat trickled down his back. It was just nerves, he told himself. The virus wouldn’t be that quick, and the inoculation would keep him safe. He had used the hand sanitizer. But there was always that slim chance, especially since this virus was rushed and normal procedural protocols were not in place. But he knew it wouldn’t take long, and he needed to move his ass and put distance between him and the lab.

  Pulling out onto the sidewalk, Carlton wove in and out of the pedestrians, making his way to the road. Leaning out, he looked both ways, and then pulled out into traffic. He headed east, watching for unwary drivers. He’d almost been hit a few times by idiots that were flying past and not watching. He was nearly breathless, his heart still pounding painfully in his chest. It was a heady mix of fear, excitement and exhilaration.

  His apartment was only a mile and a half away, and then it was to the bank and back home, throw some clothes in a bag and beat feet to Hawaii and wait it out. When the light turned green, Smallwood began to pull out. From the side street, a large dump truck struck him with enough force to send him flying through the air thirty feet. Carlton landed on a car and bounced off, his helmeted head bouncing off the asphalt, causing the helmet to split and fly across the road. Cars and trucks screeched to a halt, people getting out of their vehicles to see what had happened.

  Carlton lay unconscious, unaware that his time had run out. He didn’t feel ungloved hands gently reached for him, and began to feel and pull. As time ticked by, more hands came, lifting and moving, but he was unaware of their kind gestures. Carlton had no idea he was headed for the emergency room.

  ***

  The ambulance turned into St. Louis University Hospital, pulling up to the double doors, the tires screeching echoing off the concrete walls. The PA system was chattering with indistinct information. The accident victim was wheeled into the emergency room, his unconscious form strapped in, a neck brace in place, EMT and nurses around the gurney. At times, his consciousness tried to break through the black shroud, but he could not wake or open his eyes.

  A tall brunette nurse rubbed her knuckles roughly across the man’s sternum, calling to him. There was no response. The lead EMT gave his report, and let the ER nurse take over. RN Burns shouted orders, and called for the on-duty doctor.

  The man was taken to a curtained section and his body worked over by medical staff. Blood poured onto the once-sterile floor, the gash in his head open and lethal. The sound of instruments dropping on the gray linoleum floor echoed around the room. The clicks and beeps of machines added to the hum of activity. The doctor shouted, calling for Burns. The man on the gurney was unaware that he had coded out and been brought back.

  Nancy Pryor, a CNA, stood back and watched the controlled chaos, lending a hand when needed. The twenty-two-year-old wanted to be a nurse and was shadowing Thelma Burns, the ER nurse on duty. She tagged along when Smallwood was sent to X-ray. It was determined that he had broken his neck when he’d landed on the car and bounced off. C1 and C2 were crushed, and the spinal cord sliced nearly into.

  Nancy didn’t know what that all meant, but she knew it wasn’t good. The man was so very pale, almost to the point of ghostly. The blood was such a stark contrast, and reminded her of a slasher movie she’d once seen. She tried to shake off the gruesome thoughts. She was sure it was due to his red hair and light completion.

  Carlton Smallwood never woke up, and he died at 9:32 a.m., the viral pathogens smeared all over the ER floor and the departed ambulance.

  Nancy took her time as she picked up the bloody gauze and bits and pieces that had been thrown to the ground. This normally wasn’t her job, but she decided to clean up. The EVS crew hadn’t gotten here yet, as there had been a pile-up on Highway 64, and she was sure they were cleaning up that mess. She thought about the poor man who had died on the table, and she thought perhaps it was for the best. With a broken neck, he would have spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair. That was no way to live. Burns had told her to shake it off, you couldn’t save them all and not to waste emotions on someone who’d already been dead before he hit the ER.

  Her mind wandered as she thought about her date later that evening. It was a blind date, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to even go out. As she moved about the hospital bay, she pulled the curtain, jerking it clear of the gurney, and wiped up the blood smears and mopped up the floor. She didn’t notice the small drops that fell on her arm and face, nor was she careful where she placed the hazardous waste. Her mind was too distracted by the upcoming date; she thought perhaps they were going out dancing.

  She’d planned to attend school in the fall if all worked out okay with shadowing the nurses. She didn’t like being a CNA, it was damn hard work and thankless for the most part. She didn’t mind taking care of the elderly; they were pretty sweet people on the whole. She just couldn’t take the shit throwers. Those were the mentally ill, and if she did get into nursing, she thought she would like to work in pediatrics.

  Nancy was amazed at the amount of blood the man had lost; it didn’t seem like he was big enough to contain all of that. The stringent smell of antiseptics, the coppery smell of warm blood, and the sting of disinfectant tickled the inside of Nancy’s nose. Again and again, she wiped at the blood, spaying disinfectant and wiping away the smears. Looking around the bay, she nodded to herself and left to find Burns.

  ***

  Officer Gary Hamilton grunted in displeasure when he noticed the blood on his pants. It was ground into the knee, where he had knelt by the cyclist. He’d need to get these to the cleaners now. Pulling his pant leg up, he took a damp napkin and rubbed the smear of blood off his knee. He didn’t notice the small abrasion as he wiped away the traces of the accident.

  Julia is going to kill me, he thought. His young bride wasn’t happy about spending extra money sending his uniforms to the cleaners. They were saving money, and she had put the kibosh on extra spending. She wanted a baby, and even though he’d assured her they could afford one, she was bound and determined to save for the kid’s education, music lessons, and God knew what else.

  He rubbed harder, and got another napkin. There was a bit of blood, but he didn’t think it was his. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad and Julia could just wash his pants. It was just a bit of glass, and he could brush that out easily enough. His thoughts wandered to dinner; she was making her spinach casserole tonight. That was sex night too: he’d noticed that whenever she made spinach casserole, he got hot sex later. To hell with the pants. He wouldn’t mention it; he didn’t want to spoil his casserole night.

  ***

  The EMTs cleaned out the ambulance, spraying and throwing out hazardous material into a red biohazard bag. Dale shook his head once again; he’d never seen that much blood come out of one man. The ambulance still smelled faintly of blood. Frank, the EMT trainee, had nearly puked when they had lifted the man onto the gurney. The kid had also slipped in the blood and banged his knee pretty good. He watched as the kid limped around the ambulance bay.

  He wondered about the man. He hoped he’d survived, but doubted it. He’d seen accidents like that before. The helmet was no help when it came to neck injuries. They’d put the cervical brace around his neck, but Dale wasn’t sure it had helped. Witnesses had said he’d flown over thirty feet.

  He hoped that Frank would toughen up; blood was just a normal part of their business. Once the ambulance was cleaned, he handed Frank the biohazard bags and told him to dispose of them. He headed into the hospital for a bite to eat in the cafeteria, it was getting near lunch.

  ***

  Frank took the bags and looked around. Across the street, he saw Arron, one of his buddies, at the back of the adjacent annex to the hospital’s ambulance bay. Arron worked there in janitorial and sometimes grounds-keeping. Sometimes Frank caught a meal with him. Looking around, he took the biohazard bags with him and ran across the street. He’d forgotten to put them in the designated dumpster; his mind was focused on a smoke break.

  Arron waved
and pulled out his pack of Marlboro and shook out a cigarette for his friend. Frank grinned and took the cigarette, and tossed the bags into the dumpster near the building. Arron held his lighter for Frank, and Frank cupped his hand over the lighter to ignite his cigarette. He shot the shit for a few, then waved and headed back to the ambulance bay to find Dale. He also wanted to grab some lunch.

  ***

  Miriam hurried into the house; she had been out all morning and afternoon, getting things ready before her trip. She’d thought about firing Smallwood the day before, but she’d not got the go-ahead from higher ups until late the previous afternoon. She’d wanted to do it the week before, but admin had been dragging their feet as usual.

  As it was, she cleared that little problem quickly this morning, and was again surprised at how easy it had gone. She’d also picked up her syllabus for the conference; Nate had readied it for her. With all her errands completed, there were still a few more things she needed to sort out at home before the car came to take her to the airport. It was such a pain in the ass with the two-hour early show time. Throwing her purse onto the entryway table, she hurried into the kitchen. Pulling the cat food bag out of the pantry, she filled Miss Piggy’s food dispenser. Then she filled the water station. Miss Piggy was sitting on the refrigerator, her green celadon eyes watchful, her fluffy tail whipping back and forth.

  “All right you fat girl, I’ll be gone for a few days, but you will have the run of the house. Just don’t bring dead mice or birds in. And don’t go next door; you know Roxxy is just waiting to eat you up.” She bent and unlatched the kitty door to the outside. Double-checking the robot cat litter box, she went back into the kitchen to look at her cat.

  She reached up to bring the tabby down when Miss Piggy hissed at her, her large green eyes going black. She jumped over Miriam’s head and shot out the kitty door into the fenced back yard.

  “What the hell?” Miriam was a little startled. Miss Piggy was normally a placid cat, but did have her bouts with irritability. Perhaps she sensed Miriam’s imminent departure and that her stress levels were high. Miriam hated flying, hated being confined with all those people and the recycled stale air.

  She didn’t have time for this, so went to the bedroom to double-check her packing. When all her bags were set, she pulled them into the entry hall. Then, going to her writing desk, she picked up the birthday card for her granddaughter, Ally. Ally was turning five in three days, and was the apple of her mothers’ eyes. Her daughter Zoe had married Patricia Wallace, a pediatric nurse in Arlington, Texas in a civil ceremony. Ally had been the result of artificial insemination, which Miriam had been a little dubious about in the beginning.

  It had been all of a fraction of a second, and Miriam had fallen hopelessly in love with her granddaughter. All three women had cried tears of joy, their faces beaming with hope and love and family. The fact that her granddaughter was so far away was a constant source of grief, but Miriam made a habit of flying out every few months for extended weekends.

  Placing a crisp new five-dollar bill in the card, Miriam sealed it and went to put it in her purse. She was about as ready as she would be, and gathered up her luggage and carry-on and left the house just as the car pulled up. The driver helped place her things in the trunk, and left for the airport.

  Miriam handed the driver a tip and headed to the ticket counter. She had her carry-on; the driver would take care of her suitcase. She went to the Gold Member’s counter; she always flew first class. Smiling at the woman behind the counter, whose crisp uniform and tidy hair style announced a fellow professional, Miriam handed over her driver’s license for identification. Boarding pass in hand, Miriam made her way through the airport, stopping by a mailbox and mailing off Ally’s birthday card.

  She was early enough to relax and wander the airport at her leisure. There was a low hum of voices around her as people passed her. Some people were running and some walking, taking their time as she did. She passed the Cinnabon shop and could smell the gooey confections; she’d tried one before and couldn’t finish the overly sweet pastry.

  She stopped by one of the many gift shops, and looked for a magazine. She also picked up a candy bar; it was a small vice that she indulged herself in. She normally stayed away from candy, but when she flew, she always picked up some bit of chocolate sweet. That, and found a bar for a shot or two. Finding a seat with a view of the tarmac, Miriam nibbled her candy bar and sipped her vodka tonic. That helped her throat; she feared she was getting sick, as she had a sore throat and a tickling cough.

  She looked out the large windows of the airport, and then watched families of all races pass by. It was a curious mix of cultures that traversed the hub. She wondered at so much humanity all beneath one roof. She saw people from Asia, unsure of the ethnicity, be they Chinese, Japanese, or Korean. She watched as a man from India and his wife, who wore a beautiful sari, carried packages, a gaggle of four children, each holding the other’s hand, following behind. She smiled to herself as she watched the many different people.

  After her nerves were mellow, Miriam wandered down the concourse. Her gate had been changed, and she had time to get there. Pulling her carry-on, she stopped by numerous gift shops and boutiques. She wished she hadn’t had that third Vodka, as her head was starting to throb, a dull ache at the base of her skull that spread out like a spider’s web. And her throat was feeling a little more inflamed.

  “Miriam?” someone called her name, a note of hope in the voice.

  Miriam turned from the teddy bear she had been looking at to see Terry Webb, a man she had once been enamored with in college. Her blank face transformed into a huge smile as she launched herself into his arms, laughing, the teddy bear dropped and forgotten.

  “Oh my god! I can’t believe it, of all places, I can’t believe it!” Terry laughed, pulling Miriam to him and giving her a bear hug. “You haven’t changed at all, you haven’t changed at all,” he repeated, joy and disbelief in his voice.

  Miriam’s eyes scanned the face of the man she had once loved. He had grown more handsome, and the gray through the short dark hair made him more distinguished. His brilliant azure eyes shimmered with joy, making her heart slam hard against her chest. Why did I leave this man?

  “Terry, you look wonderful! How are you? Jesus, it’s been, what, twenty-seven years?” Her face was radiant in joy, her hands on his face. She kissed him soundly on the lips and stepped back.

  “Where are you going?” both said at once, and laughed.

  “I’m headed to Chicago; do you live here in St. Louis?”

  “I’m headed to London. My plane got diverted here. I’m headed to New York. I’m waiting for my next plane. You know how it is; you never get where you need to be, there is always a delay, and there is always a reroute. I live in California, L.A.” Terry’s mouth pulled down and his eyes rolled.

  Once again, Miriam was struck at the beauty of this man; he certainly had changed from the gawky youth he’d been. His shoulders seemed broader, and he was certainly taller. He had an innate elegance about him that made her look more closely. Moving her hand up to the crook of his arm, she could feel the steel beneath the tweed fabric of his jacket.

  “Well, I’m glad my gate changed. I was on the other side of the concourse, and I’d have never met you! So I can’t complain.” She laughed again, feeling suddenly young, her headache and sore throat forgotten.

  Terry’s large hand engulfed her smaller one, patting it, and they made their way to their respective gates together. Miriam laughed and chatted, her heart feeling so light. It was as though she were falling in love again, knowing it was absurd, but uncaring, and enjoying the emotion.

  “What have you been doing all these years, Terry? Are you married?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to the last question.

  “I run an international realty company; we deal in large commercial acquisitions. And no, I’m not married.” The smile on his face was radiant, and Miriam basked in it, feeling the
warmth tendril through her heart.

  “How about you, Miri? Husband and kids?” he asked.

  “One daughter, Zoe, and granddaughter, Ally, nearly five. I divorced years ago, and no regrets.” Her laugh was light and she shrugged a Gallic shoulder.

  Coming to the divide, they hugged, holding each other tight for a long moment. Miriam didn’t want to let go, and a small part of her nearly wept. They exchanged contact information, and made promises to meet and talk again.

  Miriam stood watching Terry hurry down the carpeted way, marveling at chance and providence. Her fingertips touched her lips lightly, still feeling the warm kiss lingering. She’d call him next week and make plans to fly out to Los Angeles. She wouldn’t let him get away this time.

  Chicago, Illinois

  Miriam arrived at the Omni Hotel, exhausted from traveling. She was too tired to take in the elegant suite. She normally stayed in room 505, but it was unavailable. Room 601 suited her fine; she liked being high so she could enjoy the view outside the large windows. She was in no mood to look out the windows now, though. It hadn’t been a bad flight, but the plane had sat on the tarmac for almost 45 minutes before taking off. It was so ridiculous anymore how traveling seemed to take longer and longer. The dry, recycled air had aggravated her throat and made her coughing worse. Between delays and transferring to different terminals and sitting and waiting for take-off, her energy had drained away. It was late, and all she wanted was a shower and her bed.

  Her thoughts had been filled with Terry since leaving St. Louis. What a stroke of luck that had been. She would never have imagined in a million years running into him again like that. She’d not thought of him for years. My oh my, how he’s changed. She slid between the heavy sheets; they were cool on her body. The back of her mind noted the expensive feel of them, as well as the crisp white. She always stayed at the Omni Hotel whenever she visited Chicago, and she’d never been disappointed.