Plague

by Victor Methos

  He suddenly shot up and gasped for breath as he began to writhe. She jumped back, into Duncan, as Amoy called some staff. They held the man down and injected a sedative.

  “You okay?” Duncan asked.

  Sam pulled away from him and straightened her hair, taking a deep breath. “Just to be on the safe side,” she said, “we need smallpox vaccinations.”

  Duncan said, “We ordered thousands the second we heard. They’re not here yet but I’m sure they will be. It may be enough to inoculate against the black pox as well.”

  Sam walked toward the door and stepped out into the corridor. “That death board has doubled from this morning. If this agent hits its tipping point, there’ll be no one left to inoculate. We need to get those vaccinations here as fast as possible.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Robert Greyjoy landed in Honolulu and stepped onto the tarmac a new man. He felt alive and refreshed, as if he’d slept for a week and just woken up to a sunny world that welcomed him with open arms. It was, in his mind, weakness. He was too sensitive to allow weather to affect him like this. He toned down his joyful response and headed into the airport.

  The airport was just a simple airfield about twenty miles from Honolulu International. Whenever possible, Robert flew small, independent charters. It wasn’t a bad practice; usually it was just him and the pilot. But occasionally he would be seated on a plane with six other people that wanted to talk and he would have to feign interest and tell boring stories. He did everything he could to fit in, to seem so average he would not be remembered should anyone else ask later on.

  There was a single cab outside on the curb and he walked to it and put his luggage in the trunk before getting into the backseat. He put on his seatbelt and instructed the driver to take him to Queen’s Medical Center.

  “Eh,” the driver said, “haven’t you seen the news? Nobody’s allowed in right now.”

  “I’ll be fine. Please go now.”

  The cabbie pulled away from the curb and quickly made his way to the interstate by running a red light and speeding. When they had climbed the onramp and were cruising at a steady speed, the cabbie turned on a CD and began humming to the music. Robert took out his phone and began reading facts about the island: geography, history, anthropology, political climate, the economy, the most popular television shows and books, and a little about the language.

  He was surprised to learn that there was a powerful anti-American movement in the state. Many were not happy with their island achieving unification with the mainland and would have preferred to stay independent. Robert had no doubt if that were so, China would begin making plans to add Hawaii as a colony. It was a little green gem in the sea, too tempting to pass up for larger nations.

  The cab stopped at Queen’s Medical and he tipped the driver well; after their initial exchange, he had not spoken again. Something Robert preferred. He went around to the back of the hospital and saw two military police officers guarding the only entrance that was not barricaded with tape and plywood signs.

  “Hello,” he said, pulling out an ID. He had three in his pocket and he took it out based on feel and glanced down quickly to make sure it was the right one. He flashed it and saw the MPs exchange looks.

  “You’re the first agent from the FBI that’s come here, Mr. Donner.”

  “Please,” Robert said, “call me Billy.”

  “You can go inside and to the left, Billy. They’re making everyone suit up. You’ll find changing stations on either side of the hallway.”

  “Thank you.”

  He entered the hospital and looked down both ends of the corridor. They were empty. He closed his eyes and listened. He could hear someone speaking down the hall to the left. He followed the sound, taking his steps softly so as not to drown it out, and the speaking grew louder as he approached a conference room.

  Several men in suits and uniforms sat at a conference table, both military and local police. They all glanced up when they saw him.

  He smiled shyly and sat down at the end of the long table. No one said anything at first and the man that had been speaking continued when an older man in a suit stopped him and said, “Excuse me, who are you exactly?”

  “Billy Donner. I’m the assistant special agent in charge of this operation for the FBI. I spoke to a Ralph Wilson on the phone.”

  “Oh, right,” the old man said, “yeah, that was me. I’m Dr. Wilson. Thank you for getting out here so quickly, Agent Donner.” He looked to the man next to him. “Agent Donner is our liaison with the Feds. Sorry about the interruption, please continue.”

  As the man resumed speaking, Robert leaned back in his chair. There certainly was an Agent William Donner somewhere, but he wouldn’t be making it to Hawaii.

  “So in conclusion,” the man finally said, “I think the governor’s gonna have to declare a state of emergency. We’re approaching such a large population of infected that we’re risking exposure on the mainland.”

  Wilson said, “Have there been any reported cases on the other islands?”

  The man, who Robert had identified as Dr. Duncan Adams from a nametag on his chest, shook his head. “No, thank heaven. It’s completely localized to Oahu for now, with a central point in Honolulu. The initial patients tended to be in their mid to late thirties, healthy and active with above median incomes. That’s changing rapidly and we’re seeing older and younger people, which means the virus is spreading through the population at an exponentially accelerated rate. It’s like compound interest: each infected patient increases the number of patients each patient infects, if that makes sense,” Duncan said, looking at the men in uniform.

  One of the military men asked, “What’s the tipping point? I heard another doctor here discussing that.”

  “That’s the Twilight Zone. That’s what we call it as USAMRIID. It’s the point when an outbreak becomes a pandemic. It’s nothing major; a minor shift is enough to change a simple scare into a disease that kills millions. To give you an example, the flu virus has a one to one ratio, meaning that for each person infected, that person, on average, infects one other person. Should that number go from 1 to 1.3, it would be enough to cause the flu to reach a tipping point and grow exponentially and we’d have a pandemic like the 1918 that killed over a million people.”

  “Is this disease approaching a tipping point or receding?” someone else asked.

  “Hard to tell,” Wilson said before Duncan could answer. “Our data is somewhat scattershot right now but we’ve been compiling it since we got here and we should have some relatively accurate numbers within the next few days or so. Then we’ll know which way this disease is going.”

  Robert said, “Do we know the cause?”

  Duncan answered quickly, “Yes, we believe so. We think the index patient was a travel guide in South America that lived here in Honolulu. We think he picked it up in the jungles of Peru.”

  “How?”

  “That we don’t know. It could be an interspecies jump or the virus simply could’ve existed in some hideaway we hadn’t discovered yet, like a cave or something.”

  Robert noticed a young woman walk in. She was beautiful, in an exotic way, and she wore a T-shirt that showed off her muscled arms.

  “This is Dr. Samantha Bower from the CDC,” Wilson said. “She’s been following up on our index patient.”

  Samantha smiled to the group. “Nice to meet you all.”

  “What have you found out, dear?”

  Samantha cleared her throat. It appeared to Robert that it was involuntary and he realized she had been embarrassed by the use of the word dear.

  “We located another patient in Iquitos, Peru. It’s a small town on the outskirts of the Amazon jungle. We think this patient was one of two people who may have infected our index. The most interesting news we received from hospital personnel there was that the patient is recovering. It’s a young woman, named Holly Fenstermac, who was on an expedition. Apparently another member of the same expedition had a
lso fallen ill, Michael Pettrioli. However, he passed some time ago. Holly is a unique case; we don’t have any patients here that are showing any signs of a recovery. The CDC is mounting an expedition following our index’s route as well as spending time with Holly, running an analysis of the progression of the virus in her body.

  “In the meantime, we’ve received ample shipments of the smallpox vaccine and are ready to begin distributing it to the population.”

  “Hold on a sec,” a man that was tucked away in the corner, taking notes on a laptop, said. “You’re telling me we’re asking the population to trust us giving them smallpox vaccinations? Isn’t it true that a certain percentage of the population actually develops smallpox from the vaccination and becomes a host to the virus, infecting others?”

  “That’s an extremely small risk consider—”

  “During the first round of vaccinations fifty years ago, Dr. Bower, were the patients told that some of them would be developing smallpox from the vaccinations? I mean, did anyone actually tell them they might die?”

  Duncan leaned over to Wilson and said, “Who is this guy?” loud enough that everybody could hear.

  Wilson replied, “Ben Cornell. He works for the Center for Anti-Vaccination Studies.”

  “You’re kidding me?” Duncan said, glancing back at him. “What the hell is he doing here?”

  “I’m representing the people,” Ben said, “that may wanna voice some concerns before the government begins filling them with viruses.”

  Wilson glanced back to him and then forward again. “He is here at the request of the governor’s office.” He cleared his throat, indicating that was the end of the issue. “Now, when the governor declares a state of emergency, all transportation to and from the island will be halted. We’ll be resupplied by cargo plane but because of quarantine procedure, it will be a long and slow process. Some resources are going to be scarce.” He turned to what appeared like a captain or chief of police. “Chief, that’s where we’re going to need a serious police presence. We’ve had instances like this spiral out of control before anybody even knew what was going on.”

  “We pulled the greens out of training at the academy,” the chief replied, “and we’ll be putting them on the streets. I don’t think we’ll need them but having more police present will have the desired effect. I think we’ll be fine.”

  Wilson nodded. “Grocery stores will run out of food once the governor makes his announcement. We’ll need to set up charity organizations and government kitchens to make sure everyone is getting enough to eat. During a state of emergency no one will be allowed public transportation so we’ll need to make sure we set up those kitchens as close as possible to population centers.”

  A man in military uniform said, “The National Guard can help set that up but we’ll need men to run ‘em. I’ve got a skeleton crew here. Most a my boys is in Iraq and Afghanistan and we’ll have to put in a request for private troops if we want more help.”

  Robert got a vision in his mind of Hurricane Katrina. He remembered seeing the soldiers in plain clothes with Ray-Ban sunglasses and automatic weapons. Mercenaries that made triple what US Army soldiers made and were better equipped.

  “That’s fine,” Wilson said, “we can work out budgetary concerns with FEMA once they get here.”

  “I wouldn’t hold your breath,” someone said. There was muted laughter in the room. Robert knew what he meant: during Katrina people were drowning in the streets waiting for help that never arrived.

  Wilson didn’t laugh. “Let’s keep our humor to ourselves. I don’t know how much the families of the people that are dying upstairs would appreciate us down here cracking jokes.” He glanced around the table. “Any questions?…okay, let’s make sure all agencies are on the same page. The general has asked that we hold bi-weekly meetings at the Ritz-Carlton downtown and I’ve agreed. Anyone have any problem with that?…didn’t think so. Well, ladies and gents, that’s all for now. Please remember your protocols. And we are holding a seminar on proper barrier procedures in the auditorium at McKinley High School tonight at seven so please be there if at all possible.”

  Everyone rose and started filing out. Robert stood and waited until Wilson was done speaking to someone in a doctor’s white coat and then approached him.

  “You seem to have everything under control,” Robert said. “Don’t think I’m necessary out here.”

  “I’m afraid if this goes where we think it will, we’ll need every man we’ve got.”

  “And where do you think it will go, Dr. Wilson?”

  “Hell, Agent Donner. This place will go to hell.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Jimmy Loanoai crouched over his toilet as the thick, black fluid spewed from his mouth and nose. It suffocated him and he began to cough as another fountain burst out of him. He had once been hospitalized for food poisoning from a Circle K convenience store hot dog that he had bought at two in morning, but it was nothing like this. The odd thing was it felt painless. The liquid that came out of him appeared like grape Crystal Light with coffee grounds in it and it tugged at his belly as if his organs were being ripped out, but he didn’t feel the pain.

  He rose and washed out his mouth and wiped it with a towel. He was nude and he walked into his bedroom and changed into his Honolulu PD uniform, strapping his utility belt and holster to himself. He sat on the bed a long time, his face in his hands, as sweat poured down his face and soaked the collar of his uniform.

  He took a few deep breaths and stood up, making his way out of the apartment and to the police cruiser waiting for him outside.

  One thing he was grateful for was that the PD had sent a car to pick him up. The kid that drove was a rookie he had met a few times when they went out drinking after shifts but they’d never really talked. Jimmy had gotten the impression he was a fag and didn’t really try to be friendly. But now, he had never been happier to see anyone in his life. Jimmy climbed into the car and nodded to him as the car pulled away from the curb.

  “You okay, Serg? You’re not looking too good.”

  “Fine,” Jimmy said, mopping up sweat from his forehead with a wad of paper towels. “Even if I wasn’t, I gotta go. I can’t not be at my own birthday party.”

  “Well you’re gonna be glad you came. I heard Captain Brogan got some strippers.”

  Jimmy shook his head as he felt a wave of nausea roll through him. “That’s the last thing I need.”

  When they got to the house, they had to park almost a block away, as police cruisers took up most of the free spaces. The party was being held at the captain’s house. Since the captain’s wife was independently rich—from an inheritance, Jimmy had heard—they owned one of the largest homes on the island and the party was going to be held out back by the pool.

  Jimmy climbed out of the car and felt his legs get weak. His head spun and before he could swallow, vomit shot out of his mouth like something had exploded in his stomach. It spewed over the police cruiser and ran down in long, black lines to the pavement below.

  “I don’t think you’re doin’ fine, Serg. Lemme take you home. I’ll explain to everyone that you’re too sick.”

  “Let me just get in there and make an appearance. Then I’ll leave. Wait for me here.”

  Jimmy walked up the block and wished he’d told the rookie to just drop him off in front of the house. He got all the way up the driveway before he had to stop for a second and catch his breath. He wondered if he should go to an Instacare and get some antibiotics or whatever it was that he needed to get rid of this damn thing.

  Jimmy opened the door without knocking and saw several women in the living room having glasses of white wine. One of the women cheered, walked over, and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. She was the captain’s wife, and though she always remembered Jimmy’s name, he’d be damned if he could ever remember hers.

  She led him poolside and someone shoved a beer in his hand. The pool was filled with men and women, a few of them playing chicke
n in the shallows. A beach ball flew past his head and he didn’t have the energy to duck.

  Everyone cheered and yelled happy birthday and someone else shoved another beer in his hand. There was a lounge chair right next to him and he sat down and leaned back.

  “You have to try the jungle juice Timothy made,” the captain’s wife said.

  Jimmy sighed and stood up, the blood rushing from his head. He followed her to the table that had all the food laid out and there was a large crystal bowl that contained ice, fruit, and a light red fluid. He stood over the bowl and she took a cup and dipped it into the jungle juice for him. She placed it in his hand and he smiled weakly and took a sip. It stung his throat and he felt nauseated but he managed to catch himself before vomiting.

  He began coughing and he tried to cover his mouth but the first couple of coughs escaped him and he hoped nothing had gotten into the jungle juice. He would hate to give everyone else a stomach flu.

  “I’m not feeling good,” Jimmy said. “I been throwing up all day.”

  “Oh no! You poor dear, what’s wrong?”

  “Just the flu. I gotta go home, though. Tell Tim hi for me and that I’m sorry.”

  “I will. You go home and get better now.”

  As she watched him go, she took a fresh cup and dipped it into the jungle juice before taking a large gulp.

  Amy Greaton stood at the head of her sixth grade classroom and glanced over her students as they finished their exams. She opened a drawer on her desk and took out two ibuprofen, washing them down with orange juice. She glanced down to her chest; the rash was still there. It was red and she saw small bumps beginning to rise in her skin.

  Her mother had died of breast cancer and she was worried about anything that affected her chest or breasts. She figured this was some sort of allergic reaction, though. The fact that she had also been vomiting this morning and felt alternating sensations of hot and cold indicated she had probably ingested whatever it was she was allergic to.