The Bristle family was not from New York, they were from New Jersey. Yet Peg and Harry Bristle and their two teenage children, sightseeing for the weekend, sat in their Lexus amidst the turbulence. Harry Jr. had been sick since last evening and Harry Sr., Peg, and Lucy were just beginning to feel the flu. They wondered, like many others, if this was a deadly virus. Would their last painful hours be spent sitting behind a beat-up Jeep? Or possibly someone would come to their aid.
Their only means of entertainment for the past three hours was watching and counting in terror how many people were killed trying to break the barricade.
Peg jolted a bit as she witnessed the shooting of a motorcyclist.
Harry Sr., munching on Planter’s Peanuts, chewed and commented. “Stupid asshole, how many does that make?”
Lucy checked her note book. “Forty-eight.”
“Forty-eight?” Harry Sr. shoved another peanut in his mouth. “I guess they’ll be moving them out soon.”
“I don’t think so.” Peg shoved her hand in the bag. “They still have lots of room.”
They watched as two military men wearing respirators hoisted the body of the dead biker into the back of a dump truck, brushed off their hands and went back to their post as if nothing had happened.
Harry Jr. moaned from the back seat.
Lucy checked him out and reported to her parents. “He’s getting worse, and he’s waking up.”
Peg opened her purse. “Here” She handed Lucy a yellow pill. “Give him another Valium.”
Harry Sr. looked in her purse. “You have enough for the rest of us when we need them, don’t you?”
“Of course I do; remember I have Xanax and Percs for when things get really bad.” She looked at her watch and pulled a bottle of water from the cooler. “It’s time for me to take another nerve pill, anyone else?”
In order to remain calm, both Harry and Lucy held out their hands.
May 31st - 9:10 a.m.
County General Hospital - New York City, NY
‘ ... It’s difficult at this time, with airspace closed off to our Eyewitness News choppers, to determine if the insurmountable amount of reports are indeed true ...’
Catherine sat in a chair, flipping though the note cards of her upcoming news conference.
‘ ... the shooting of civilians at the barricade points are at this time the most disturbing. Once again authorities are urging those of you who live in the Metropolitan New York area to stay inside. Do not make an attempt to leave the city at this time. The frustration level is high and Bell Atlantic has confirmed that phone service in the New York City area region is disrupted. And so many individuals have made attempts to use their cell phones, it’s like midnight on New Years, no calls can get through. Circuits are jammed. Today at ten, a special informational ...’
Catherine’s eye shifted from the news to the shaking hand in front of her. Jan extended to Catherine a sheet of paper. Catherine’s eyes eased up the trembling arm, and she gripped it as she stood. “Jan.” Catherine’s hand went to Jan’s cheek. “Oh, my God.”
Jan stepped back. Her skin was sickly-white. “I needed you to know ...” Her head twitched. “I need you to know. We have reported cases in... in...” Jan swallowed harshly and as if in pain. “In seven other countries. Please.” Her eyes closed. “Please think about what you’ll say today at the ...” Jan never said anymore, her head went back and forward she toppled with a loud bang to the floor. Catherine flew to her aid, sliding on the floor the moment Jan began to convulse.
May 31st - 9:22 a.m.
The White House - Washington, DC
Dust particles floated in the beams of sunlight that came through the windows of the Oval Office. Dark, quiet and solemn was the feel of the office. Not a light was on. President Hadley sat behind his desk, his chair turned so as to face the window. His feet were planted firmly on the floor. His hands gripped the arms of the chair. No expression, not even anger graced his stone-cold face as he just stared at the window.
Jason Locks inched his way to the President’s side. His voice was soft, matching the feel of the room. “The evidence is mounting, Sir. We’re talking about a massive terrorist retaliation. We have confirmed twelve simultaneous releases of the bug. It’s time ... it’s time that you read that again.”
President Hadley’s hand moved slowly from the arm of the chair. He brought it to his lap and on to the blue-bound manuscript that rested there, unread. He slid his hand across the crispness of it as his eyes read the black, bold title, ‘CLASSIFIED: THE GARFIELD PROJECT’. It was something in his entire presidency he never thought he’d have to read. President Hadley knew how desperate the situation had to be if he was forced to open it. The situation was not something he was ready or wanting to face. Not yet.
May 31st - 9:30 a.m.
Ashtonville, Connecticut
Ellen thought that Peter was getting better, maybe just a little. His eyes were open, he responded to her, and he’d held in the water she gave him for over a half an hour. That was the longest Ellen could recall he had gone without throwing up. She dipped the washcloth in the basin and brought it over his face again. She looked in the glossy eyes that stared like a child up to her, so helpless, so hurt. She ran the cloth across his cracked lips and down to his neck.
“I don’t know, Peter. I just don’t know what this is.”
“El.” Peter spoke so weakly, and his words trembled as much as his body. “I’m so sick. I think I’m dying. Help me.”
Ellen pulled her hand back clenching the washcloth tight. She dropped it in the basin. “I’ll try to call again.” She stood up, taking the basin into the guest bathroom. She looked back at Peter as she left the room. He lay on his back, shaking, his eyes open and staring out. A look of searching was in his eyes, peering outward as if looking for answers, help, or relief.
She pulled the door closed and moved to her bedroom, pausing to peek in Josh’s room; he was asleep. Taylor was too. Of course, Taylor had not even made the attempt to get out of bed. Too sick, she told Ellen, and her little head hurt so badly, she was in tears. Saying a short begging prayer, Ellen picked up the phone and gasped in relief when she heard the dial tone. It was something she had been unable to get for hours. Quickly she dialed; her lips moving rapidly as she beckoned softly for someone to answer.
The operator came on. “You have reached the Fairfield County Regional ambulance dispatch center ...”
Ellen peeped out a moan of excitement. Finally help. “Yes, I need an ambulance. For Ash ...”
“ ... at this time, all emergency services have been suspended until further notice. Please try your call later.”
The long high pitch beep rang in Ellen’s ear. She slid the phone from her ear across her cheek, dropped her forehead to the ear piece, and closed her eyes. A feeling of desperation and helplessness, so overwhelming, hit Ellen so hard that she just wanted to break down and cry. But like that phone she clenched in her sweaty hand, Ellen held on tight to the strength she needed.
May 31st - 9:47 a.m.
Fairfield University - Stamford, Connecticut
It was a contrast in reality to Dean. On his right, Molly stood suited up behind a glass wall working on something in the lab, smiling and waving to Henry who was adding a sealant around the window frame. Then to his left the speaker phone, Catherine Donovan, shaken but trying to be strong, her voice hard to understand through the static of the phone.
“I’m sorry, Catherine, what was that again, I can barely hear you,” Dean said as he sat at the counter reviewing notes.
“I’m sorry this connection is bad. I’m on my cell phone. I was saying we stopped taking patients. The numbers are through the roof here. Everything we have tried has failed. This thing moves too fast. How did it get out of control so fast?”
“Out of control fast?” Dean questioned. “Catherine, you’re talking a twenty-eight hour window before this thing was discovered to be airborne. The incubation period alone is shorter than that.
We lost control the second it was unknowingly released.”
“But all the studies I have done show ...”
“Show what? To circle the globe it would take weeks, months? Highly doubtful when you’re speaking about a killer virus that ends a life in forty-eight hours or less. Also keep in mind the last time this planet faced a plague, we did not have intercontinental air travel.”
“True.” Catherine agreed.
“So lose the tone of blaming yourself.” Dean told her then added a little compassion. “Even if you were Superwoman you wouldn’t have been fast enough.”
“Is there hope?”
“There’s always hope.” Dean answered. “And we are not out of options yet. Even if we take it to the wire, we won’t give up. In fact, I’m waiting for a prototype right now to arrive from my lab. A viral block I’ve been working on. Works with the DNA and RNA.”
“Yes, but working with the DNA and RNA, wouldn’t the patient have to have some sort of genetic immunity link for it to work?” Catherine questioned.
“Don’t know. Different viruses breed different results. My research is not complete, but at this point it is worth a shot. Right? We’ll know in about an hour.”
“An hour.” Catherine sounded disappointed. “My news conference is before that. I was hoping you could have given me something.”
“For?” Dean asked. “For you to say? I thought you knew what you were going to say.”
“I do and I don’t. I know what I have to say and I know what is the right thing to say. The question is what ...”
Dean looked up from his notes. “Catherine?” He called out. There wasn’t a sound coming from the speaker phone. No static. Nothing. Dean stood and lifted the receiver from the base. “Catherine.” He clicked the base several times. No dial tone. No busy signal. The phone was dead.
May 31st - 9:55 a.m.
Interstate 80 - Outskirts, Chicago, IL
It was a small mall complex; the parking lot had been cleared of any vehicles there during the last hour, plowed out of the way as if the cars were snow and then replaced with tents and military trucks. The small outdoor mall was located about a mile off the main interstate and Frank, on his break, ran there. He trudged down the congested highway where traffic crawled and made it there in no time flat. There weren’t many military personnel moving about. A few men and women did the work cut out for multitudes more. Frank believed the reason for the lack of personnel had less to do with the virus and more to do with the fact that so many had left their posts and gone AWOL, just as he himself contemplated doing, but he’d stayed where he had to be.
He had to return to his post before he too was considered absent without leave, but not before trying to call one more time before his phone went dead. That phone call ended up being a waste of Frank’s hopes when a recorded voice came on informing Frank ‘the phone call can not be completed due to the disruption of phone service in the state of Connecticut.’
May 31st - 10:00 a.m. EST
Seattle, WA - City Limits
The large hand slammed down three times on the hood of the minivan that stopped at his barricade. “Move it out!” Sergeant Robert ‘Robbie’ Slagel ordered to the scared woman driving the van with three small children. “Ma’am, move it out now!”
“I’m going through,” she spoke with emotional insistence.
Robbie didn’t raise his weapon; he merely let the pumping of the chamber be heard. “Ma’am, you will back up this vehicle now. Now!” Standing firmly and with intimidation, Robbie stared coldly at her until she gave in and backed the van up only to let another move forward. Robbie signaled for another man to handle it.
It all was making sense to him. His father’s phone call, the mention of the contingency plan. Stepping back to get a drink of water from the canteen set up in the closed fast-food restaurant parking lot, Robbie saw it. A cell phone. His had been long since on one bar.
Taking off his gas mask and scratching his sweaty blonde hair, he brought his glass of water to his lips, keeping his eyes on that phone. Unsuccessfully he had tried to get a hold of his father since the day before. With things being the way they were now, what would it hurt if he attempted it just once more.
After looking around he walked to the lone phone and lifted it, dialing his father’s cell phone number. The line was crackling and filled with static, but it rang. “Come on, Dad, answer. Answer.” He beckoned. “Dad . . .” Robbie stopped speaking when he realized it was voice mail. “Shit!” He rested his head against the phone, eyes closed taking in the frightening reality of what was going on. After a brief moment, he regained his composure and returned to his post. He’d try again later. Robbie needed to speak to his father. However, if he didn’t get through on that attempt, he would leave a message.
May 31st - 10:01 a.m.
The News Conference
Joe covered Kelly with a blanket as she curled up on her side in an easy chair. He moved to the television, turning it up, then walked by little eleven-year-old Johnny Slagel as he lay in front of the television watching.
“Joe,” Kelly called out, a weakness had hit her. “I don’t want to watch this.”
“We have to.” Joe stated matter-of-fact. “If we listen to anything, I believe we’ll listen right now to the truth.” Backing up away from the set, Joe sat on the couch in between his two granddaughters. He pulled them close and watched.
Catherine nervously fiddled with her index cards as she approached the podium in the hospital’s conference auditorium. It was crowded; cameras flashing at her, clicking, a mumbling of voices came from what Catherine believed was every single reporter stuck in New York. They waited impatiently for her to speak. Catherine stared at the many faces and leaned into the abundance of microphones. “Good Morning. I’m Doctor Catherine Donovan of the Centers for Disease Control.”
A hush took over the room and everyone’s attention was grabbed. There was no introduction of her, nothing to forewarn the reporters this unlikely-looking woman was the doctor with important information on whom they had been waiting.
“I’m here today, not to answer questions, but to inform you. Hopefully I will tell you exactly what you need to know.” Catherine stared down at her cards again; her perspiring hands dampened them. “We here in New York are dealing with a virus. A virus deliberately released in a subway two days ago. I know a lot of you have been caring for the ill. I know from what I have been doing here that it’s a big task to handle. So we’re going got try to relieve some of that burden.” She cleared her throat. “Aid stations, relief stations, whatever you would like to call them, are being set up as we speak. You are encouraged to seek medical care if you or a family member is ill. Following this info-conference, do not be alarmed, stations will switch to the Emergency Broadcast System. A list of locations for relief stations will continuously be run.” She paused to take a breath. “This virus is centralized in New York. It is under control, and this crisis will be over shortly.”
President Hadley smiled to Jason Locks, a smile of relief as he watched Catherine deliver her speech on a wall of television sets mounted just outside the Oval Office.
Catherine set down her index cards and gripped the podium seriously. “That is what I’m supposed to tell you. This ... is what I’m not.” Catherine waited for complete silence. No cameras. No voices. “It’s airborne ...”
Immediately upon those words, President Hadley sprang from his chair.
“ ... It’s deadly. And it is hitting us faster than we ever feared in any of our worst nightmares.”
Rage filled President Hadley. His arm swung out hitting the air. “Son of a bitch, she did it!”
Catherine held up her hand to the mumbles of concern. “Right now a list of virus stages and symptoms are being faxed to every health care facility in the country that is capable of receiving them. We will also run the symptoms at intervals of every half hour over the Emergency Broadcast System. What you receive, what you know, is all that we ourselves know. Bu
t understand, please ...” Catherine swallowed the lump in her throat. “We are doing everything humanly possible to stop this. To end this. Hopefully, with God’s great intervention, the prayers of the world, and with the brilliancy of our scientific technology, we will overcome this tragedy that has now struck us so strongly. Thank you.” Catherine stepped back, nodded sadly and, ignoring the shouting of questions, walked off.
Every single television monitor that President Hadley watched turned off the second the beep of the EBS began. Slowly President Hadley, Jason at his side, walked to his Oval Office. He moved to his desk and lowered himself down to his chair. After briefly closing his eyes in thought, he folded his hands on his desktop and looked up to Jason. “Ok, it’s out. We know what we have to do now.”
May 31st - 10:25 a.m.
Interstate 80 - Outskirts, Chicago, IL
Both sides of the highway were jammed with cars all going in the same direction. Out. Up the breakdown lane of the road and in the center strip cars all moved at a turtles’ pace. Off to the highway’s side military trucks were lined up. In a tent, amongst all that, Frank stood. He held the army mobile phone to his ear while closing off the noise with his finger. He nodded, handed the phone to the corporal and holding his M-16 he stepped from the tent. All it took was for Frank to lift his arm high in a motioning wave. All eyes were waiting for it. The second after Frank’s signal, soldiers placed on gas masks, grabbed roadblock horses, and marched with them across the highway. The big military trucks made their own room as they followed the soldiers out. All traffic was immediately stopped.
The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series Page 10
