The Liger Plague (Book 1)

by Joseph Souza

  He started to move behind the table when the community center started to rumble beneath their feet. A loud explosion sounded just outside the center. Everyone looked up in fear, wondering where the explosion had come from. His wife’s blown-glass sculptures rattled on their shelves. One fell to the floor, shattering into many colorful pieces.

  What the hell was that? Tag thought, bracing for the worst.

  Chapter 5

  Everyone inside the community center stood quiet, registering the shock of the explosion that had occurred outside. In a matter of seconds, however, people began to push and shove their way out the front door. Tag gripped Monica and Taylor by their hands and guided them away from the stampede. He led them past the panicked throng, all of whom were struggling to make it to the front entrance. Once he reached the rear of the facility, the three of them ran out of the building.

  “The golf cart is parked on Spring Street around the corner. One of you take the BMW and the other the cart. I want you two to go directly home, lock all the doors, and stay put. I left two loaded Glocks on the kitchen table in case either of you have to use them. Taylor is not afraid to fire a weapon after all the time I spent with her at the range.”

  “Isn’t that a little overkill?” Monica said.

  “Trust me on this.”

  “Mind telling me what’s going on here, Tag?” Monica asked.

  “I’ll tell you everything I know once we get back to the house. Now do as I’m telling you and get back home.”

  “Does it have to do with the glass liger the gallery sent me?”

  “What do you think, babe? And I doubt your gallery sent that to you. Now hurry up and get moving.”

  He went back inside the center and saw people pushing and shoving in their haste to get out. Some of the older folks had fallen to the floor and were being trampled by the panicked mob. He helped those who had fallen back to their feet, directing many of the others to exit out the back. Standing on a table, he ordered the mob into two single lines, one in front and one heading to the rear exit, making sure that no one else got trampled. Many of the kids and mothers cried, and some of the men with families pushed their way past. Tag pulled out his .45 and walked up to one of the men doing the most pushing, holding it up for him to see.

  “You’re not going to want to do that, pal. Now stop being an asshole and calmly make your way out that door like everyone else in line,” he said.

  “What the hell is going on here?” the man said, fear in his eyes. His frightened wife and three small kids stood behind him.

  “Stop pushing and do as you’re told and everything will be cool.”

  “Look, mister, we’re from Wisconsin and here visiting my wife’s family in Maine. The ferries are all out of service, and we’re stranded with no place to stay for the night. All we want to do is get the hell off this island and head back home.”

  “There are no ferries leaving this island tonight as far as I can tell, so you better be prepared to stay overnight. In fact the ferries won’t be back up and running in the foreseeable future. If any of you have family on the island, then I suggest you return there and stay until further notice.”

  “We came over to the island for a day trip. My brother lives in Cape Elizabeth and is expecting us to arrive back tonight for a family reunion.”

  “If you have nowhere to stay, then I suggest you head down to Krane’s Beach for the time being or until we can find you and your family some housing for the night. It should be safe down there until we can figure something out.”

  Two lines formed at the front and the back. In a matter of minutes he had everyone safely out the doors and onto the street. Tag made his way out of the building, careful to lock both doors so that no one else could enter this virus-compromised facility. Groups of people wandered around Main Street, confused, not sure of what to do or where to go. He looked around to see where the explosion had come from but couldn’t see any smoke. Just then a Portland police patrol car appeared down the opposite end of the street, its lights flashing and siren blaring. It cruised slowly down the yellow median strip, clearing the pedestrians off the street and onto the sidewalks. Everywhere he looked, Tag could see people jabbering nervously on their cell phones, and all he could visualize were the targeted cells in the brain being activated and starting to mutate. The sight of so many people potentially becoming infected by it sent a cold chill down his spine.

  Tag ran out into the street and over to the car’s driver’s side window.

  “Step away from the vehicle, sir,” the cop said over the loudspeaker.

  He banged on the window, realizing to his dismay that he still had his gun in hand. The cop riding in the passenger seat, a pretty young blonde, jumped out of the car and squatted behind the hood, pointing her service revolver at his head.

  “Put down the weapon, sir, and get down on the ground. Then put your hands over your head.”

  “Listen closely to me, officers. We have an emergency on our hands. There’s no time for this right now.”

  “You better do as you’re told, or I swear I’ll shoot. Now put the gun down!”

  “Okay, take it easy. I’m a colonel in the United States Army.”

  Realizing that he had no other choice, he made a show of placing his gun gently on the hood of the patrol car. Then he dropped to his knees and lay sprawled on the pavement, his hands interlocked behind his head. The two cops immediately secured his wrists behind his back. Taking his gun from the hood, the two cops lifted him to his feet and bent him over the trunk. The male officer proceeded to pat him down.

  “You’re in a world of hurt, pal. You just threatened the lives of two police officers.”

  “Are you two cops for real? There’s been a major explosion on the island, and people here are going into panic mode, and you’re arresting me?”

  “Yeah, we heard the explosion. The old Methodist church on Main blew a gasket. Probably a gas leak or something. We’ll need to get this crowd under control before we can fully process your arrest,” the female officer said.

  “The volunteer firefighters will take care of the fire,” the older cop said. His badge said Mueller.

  “Officers, the situation on the island is far worse than just a church explosion. The ferries have been shut down for an indefinite amount of time, and for all intents and purposes, we’re stuck on this island for who knows how long.”

  “Who the hell are you again?” the old cop asked, turning him around.

  “My name is Colonel Taggert Winters of the United States Army. I head up a group of scientists that study ways to prevent lethal viruses from spreading. I have good reason to believe that an infectious agent has been released on this island.”

  “You got an ID on you, pal?”

  “Not on me. My wallet’s at my summer home over on Sandy Lane,” he said, kicking himself for not taking his wallet with him. “We don’t have time to waste worrying about my ID. We need to act fast and take control of this situation before it gets out of hand.”

  The two cops stared at each other, not sure what to make of him.

  “Look, buddy, I don’t know you from jack squat. I want to see some legitimate form of identification before we listen to another word out of your mouth.”

  “Then get on your goddamn radio and call your dispatcher. He’ll confirm my ID.”

  The driver moved into the car, shut the door, and got on the radio. He waited a minute in silence before the cop came back out and said he knew nothing about the individual. Tag cussed under his breath before realizing that this might work in his favor. Had his name gotten out on the mainland, every reporter in the country would be flocking to Portland to cover this potential threat to the nation’s security. Somehow he had to sweet-talk his way out of these restraints so he could get back to his family.

  “Funny how no one’s ever heard of you,” the female cop said, chewing a wad of gum.

  “We might possibly be looking at a biologically engineered weapon capable of prod
ucing mass death and destruction. They haven’t released my name yet because if they did there’d be widespread panic.”

  “Come on, buddy, you expect us to believe that farfetched story? Get off your high horse,” the cop said in a raspy voice.

  “Get the police chief on the line. I spoke to him just before I came over to check on this situation.”

  “I’ll do that,” the older cop said.

  He radioed the station and asked to speak with the chief. The dispatcher explained that the chief was in a meeting but that he’d leave a brief message for him.

  “He’ll get to us as soon as he can, but for now we’re going to take you home and check out your alibi.”

  “Look, officers, we don’t have time for this bullshit. The longer we wait and do nothing, the worse things are going to get on the island.”

  “Maybe he’s telling the truth,” the female officer said, looking over at her partner.

  “We got a gas explosion, a ferry shutdown and a crazy guy waving a gun at us, Silva. You want to take a chance letting this guy go free so he can threaten someone else? They’ll take away our badges if we do that. Best to check him out first, and then we’ll go from there.”

  Resigned to his fate, Tag stared back through the rear window. People staggered aimlessly on the street with nowhere to go. The fortunate ones who lived on the island would be able to return to their homes. But where would all the tourists end up? He’d told that family inside the Community Center to head down to the beach, but without anyone to organize the people down there, he doubted whether law and order could be maintained. He knew that these two cops should have been on the street, providing guidance and direction, rather than wasting their precious time checking him out. Then again maybe being arrested had an upside. If he could get these two cops back to his house, then maybe he could outfit them with hazmat face masks and therefore prevent a further spread of the infectious agent.

  The cop drove down one of the side streets and cut over to Atlantic View Road. The road, high on the cliff and overlooking the beaches and coves along the southern tip of the island, also looked out over Portland and the rugged Atlantic. Tag could see the small headlight standing sentry at the entrance to the harbor. At night its beam swept across the choppy surface of the water, helping errant boats find their way back to port.

  Far down below he saw a powerboat pulling out of one of the coves. He knew instantly that the vessel belonged to one of his neighbors, Harry Cameron, a powerful criminal attorney at one of the big law firms in town. Cameron lived three houses over on Sandy Hill Lane and owned all the land rights on that section of the cove. The sight of the attorney’s thirty-seven-foot SeaRay Sundancer heading out into open water scared the shit out of him, and for a moment he pictured the virus jumping to the mainland and spreading like wildfire. The boat turned and began to speed back to the city. It had not gone a hundred yards before a Portland P.D. patrol boat cut it off and flashed its powerful headlight on Cameron’s expensive vessel.

  “Stop the car, Mikey,” Silva said, pointing down toward the water.

  “What the hell’s going on out there?” Mueller said, staring out his driver’s side window.

  “Don’t you see, officers? The island’s gone into a full-on quarantine. They’re shutting off the island from the rest of the mainland and letting no one on or off.”

  “Shut the hell up!” Mueller said, exiting the car to better see the situation unfolding in the bay. “What the hell is a Portland P.D. boat doing out there?”

  “Are you that stupid?” Tag asked angrily. “We’ll all be infected with the virus the longer we sit here talking about it and failing to act. If this contagion spreads to the mainland, then the multiplier effect will be devastating.”

  “Multiplier effect?” Silva said, turning to look at him. “What in the world is a multiplier effect?”

  “The rate at which this disease will spread from person to person. The multiplier effect will depend heavily on the way in which the virus is contracted. If it’s a blood-borne agent, it will spread slowly, but if it’s spread by airborne transmission, which I believe might be the case here, a mere cough will be enough to pass this disease from one person to the next.”

  “Mister, you’re really starting to scare the hell out of me,” Silva said.

  “It’s Colonel Winters, Officer Silva, and trust me, if this threat is real, you haven’t even begun to be scared.”

  The SeaRay slowed upon reaching the patrol vessel. The illuminated police boat bobbed in the swells, its strong beam pointed directly at the escaping craft. Despite the noise from the patrol car’s air-conditioning unit, he could hear the captain of the police boat over the loudspeaker ordering the Funny Lady to turn back to dock. The Funny Lady didn’t move, its powerful twin outboard motors still roiling the water around it. Cameron was known on the island as an arrogant bully and agitator, demanding and gruff, and a renowned supporter of the campaign to allow Cooke’s to secede from Portland, primarily to reduce his monstrous tax burden, which even Tag admitted was absurdly inflated. Cameron had even sued all his surrounding neighbors to gain sole rights to the one shared access road that led to the beach. Fortunately, he lost the case, and all his neighbors had a huge block party to celebrate his defeat. One of the cops moved to the stern of the patrol boat. To his dismay he saw that the cop onboard was dressed from head to toe in a white hazmat suit.

  “Holy shit!” Silva said. “Maybe this guy is telling us the truth, Mikey.”

  “Why’s he wearing a hazmat suit? And what’s that jerk in the powerboat waiting for?” Mueller said. “Why don’t he turn around and head back to the dock?”

  “Can’t blame him for wanting to leave, Mikey, if what this guy says is true,” Silva responded. “Guy probably wants to get the hell off this island and away from the threat.”

  “Maybe that’s what he wants to do, but he’s not getting very far with an armed police boat blocking his path.”

  The stand-off seemed to take forever. Tag felt anxious having to sit in the back seat with his hands cuffed behind his back while valuable time passed. He thought of all the things he should be doing as he watched the two boats floating alongside each other, caught in a brief stand-off. He could hear the cop’s voice echoing over the loudspeaker. The police made no move to board the vessel, however, indicating to him that the chief had stressed the importance of having no contact with the islanders. At least the chief had taken the threat seriously, which was one good sign. The cop in the hazmat suit repeated his instructions, but the Funny Lady refused to move. It almost seemed as if Cameron was debating the matter before deciding on what action to take. Tag couldn’t see the lawyer, who was locked away inside the cabin and out of the light.

  “We’re wasting valuable time here!” Tag yelled at the two cops.

  “Yeah, Mikey, let’s check out this guy’s ID so we can start formulating a plan in case he’s right.”

  Mueller turned to head back inside the squad car when the Funny Lady suddenly accelerated past the patrol boat. Spray kicked up, and the Funny Lady headed straight toward the Portland waterfront. The patrol boat immediately spun around and gave chase. Mueller jumped into the car and sped to the top of the hill to better see what would happen. Once they reached the top of the street, Tag could clearly see that the patrol boat had overtaken the Funny Lady.

  An officer stood behind a machine gun and sprayed the boat’s fiberglass hull with bullets. The twin motors of the Funny Girl sputtered, and flames shot out. It quickly took on water, the stern starting to sink from the waves lapping over it. Cameron and his wife moved to the bow, put on their life jackets, and waved their arms at the patrol boat, hoping to be picked up. The patrol boat did not move, instead bobbing in the swells and watching them. The Funny Lady slowly sank in the bay, the bow rising up out of the water. Cameron snatched his wife’s hand, and the two of them jumped into the cold, choppy waters before it went down. One of the officers on the boat tossed them a lifesaver atta
ched to a line, and Cameron and his wife grabbed hold of it. Once they had a firm grip on the orange raft, the patrol boat pulled them through the three-foot swells until they reached shore. The couple dragged themselves up onto the beach, their clothes soaking wet, and collapsed on the sand. Then the police boat sped off and resumed its patrol of the island.

  “Holy Christ!” Mueller said, slapping his forehead in shock.

  “Now do you believe me?” Tag said.

  “Hurry up and drive over to this guy’s house, Mikey. I have a gut feeling he’s telling us the truth,” Silva said.

  The cop car turned and sped down the hill, taking a sharp right onto Sandy Hill Lane. Tag directed them to his house, and the cop parked in the driveway. Mueller got out of the vehicle and dragged Tag out the back door, bumping his forehead against the metal frame. He had a good mind to punch this arrogant cop in the nose once they cut him loose.

  “Nice pad,” Silva said, whistling in admiration. “Wish I could afford a summer home on Cooke’s Island instead of the crappy ranch I own in Westbrook.”

  “Can we please get this over with?”

  “Come on, then, pal, let’s hurry up and check you out. I got a feeling this is going to be a long fricken night,” Mueller said, reaching under Tag’s armpit to escort him to the front door.

  “There’s one slight problem,” Tag said as they walked over the stone path.

  “Suppose you’re going to tell us that you don’t have an ID inside the house, right? Who knows, maybe you’re the one who planted this bug here in the first place.”

  “Are you losing your mind?” Tag responded. “Or just plain stupid?”

  “What’s the problem?” Silva asked. “We’ve got a shit-storm going on here during the busiest time of the year, and now we find out you’re jerking our chain. Me and Mikey here are the only two cops assigned to Cooke’s Island, and we’re going to have our hands full until things are under control. I suggest you stop bullshitting us and get to the point.”