George stared intently into the camera as his fist clenched and pounded with each of his powerful words. “Yet, we have not given up. Every second of this day, every scientist, every dreamer is out there working with their hearts and souls to stop what now strives to conquer us. And if it is God’s will that defeat shall befall us, then when this silent victor has run its course, those of us who emerge from the ashes will emerge with our heads high. Through losses and pain. Through suffering and sorrow. We will right what went wrong. We will forge ahead. We will not give into extinction. We will ultimately prevail. We will ... live. Good luck.” George’s voice dropped. “May God be with you all.”
The sincerity, the hurt, Catherine witnessed it all on the President’s face. But she also witnessed his despair as he so much as said goodbye to the weak who were losing their battle. With the hiss of the Emergency Broadcast System’s return, Catherine folded her arms tight to her body, turned and placed her forehead into the doorframe she leaned against. Having just heard the President’s farewell to all hope, Catherine could do nothing at that moment but cry.
May 31st - 6:05 p.m.
Fairfield University - Stamford, Connecticut
William Hayes treated every patient as personally as he could, not like the other two medics who had long since left their posts. In the four hours since he started helping, William estimated he had seen well over two hundred, and he guessed that number would seem low when it all was said and done.
“Suction, Henry.” William held out his hand, his fingers holding open the mouth of a woman. He felt the instrument hit his palm. “Thank you.” He inserted the tube into the woman’s mouth.
“Two days.” Henry spoke dazed.
“Excuse me?” William adjusted the suction.
“Instead of a couple hours it seems like days.”
William looked over his shoulder at Henry who was assisting him. Henry, for the most part, moved patients for the aid station. That was his job. “Henry, you could say a lifetime of learning can be found in one instance of a heartache.”
“There’s more than an instance here, William.” Henry looked around. The tents were filled to the capacity. “Where did they all come from?”
“Their homes, neighboring towns.” William shrugged.
“Yesterday the world was fine.”
“I highly doubt the world was fine, Henry. There’s talk among the soldiers that it was released in more than this country. The world wasn’t fine yesterday, the world was sick. They just didn’t realize it yet.” He turned off the suction machine. “Next one.”
Henry pushed the machine for William as he moved to the next person. “But how did they get sick so fast?”
“I suppose it wasn’t fast. I suppose all of these people were feeling it sometime last night. But like you or I would think of a common headache, they thought nothing about it until, well, they found out.” William smiled gently to the young woman patient. He lifted her name tag and all he saw was a number. He looked at her. “I’m Dr. Hayes, dear. I’m going to try to help you feel more comfortable.” He watched her cough. A trail of vomit seeped from the corner of her mouth. “Henry, suction please.”
Henry handed him the suction. “I’m sorry for asking all these questions.”
“I don’t mind answering them. But I may not be the one to ask. Have you tried my son?” William opened the young woman’s mouth.
“I tried and he rattled off something I didn’t understand. All I wanted to know was how it got to the finish line before we realized we had even started the race.”
“That was good.” William suctioned the woman.
“I mean, William, I had a virus once. We all have. But like, I was sick for a week. Not like this. William ... I saw eight people die last half hour alone.”
“And that number will grow. Rapidly, too.” William said. “Henry, think of viruses as forms of transportation. Each virus looks different. Acts different. Moves different. The rate of speed in each is different also. Say your body is the United States. The start of the illness is Los Angeles, the end is New York. If a normal virus is a car, then this virus, created to be strong, is the Concord jet.”
“Too fast.” Henry swayed his head.
“Look around, Henry.” William worked on the woman. “Would you rather take a week to watch the world die like this, or have it be over in a blink of an eye?”
Before Henry could say anything else, someone called his name. “Henry!” The man yelled. “We have one more to be moved!”
“I’ll be back, William.” Henry moved from the tent and toward the check-in line. There was a long table with three men wearing gas masks. They took names, gave numbers and moved people into tents. The line of people in front of the men was congested and people shoved to move through.
“Take her to stage three.” The man with a gas mask handed Henry a wrist tag. “Number 4563.”
Henry nodded and looked at the woman who stood before the man at the end of the table. He was surprised. Most stage threes did not stand. “Ma’am, you want to ...”
“No ...” The man interrupted. “Not her.”
“Who?”
“Her.” The man only extended his arm pointing out and down to the other side of the table.
Someone was lying on the ground? Where? Henry thought. He didn’t see her. The people that waited to get help were so concerned with themselves, they couldn’t wait until 4563 was moved; they merely stepped over her and stood around her. “Excuse me.” Henry moved around the table and cut through the far right line making it center the crowd. “Excuse ...” Henry’s heart broke right there. He clenched the number in his hand and dropped to his knees, angrily shoving people out of the way, sick or not. They didn’t care, and at that moment, Henry didn’t care much for them. On the ground on her side was a little girl. No older than six, eyes closed, white as a sheet, shaking and covered with dried blood. “Oh my God.” Henry scooped the little girl up into his arms. Her little body flopped, head flung back. He closed his eyes briefly, breaking though the people and as he emerged, he turned to look back. The gap he had made in the line closed quickly. They never even noticed he’d carried a child out. The ill that waited didn’t even care. Henry cradled the girl closer to his chest and took her to the tent William was in, even though it was not stage three. “William.” Henry called out in a soft voice. “Please.” He laid the child on an empty cart. A whimper of pain escaped her. He slowly unfolded the blanket over the child.
“Well.” William spoke as he approached. He noticed the look on Henry’s face as Henry just stared down to the little girl. William caught eye contact with the girl and spoke tenderly with a smile. “What have we here?”
“A number.” Henry quivered his words in sadness. “Just a number.”
As William looked up from the girl, Henry was running from the tent.
Dean banged the cell phone off the palm of his hand. “Hello?”
“I hear you.” Catherine spoke. “Barely. I was told not to count on the satellite communications much longer.”
“Hopefully we will accomplish something by then. Getting back to business. A freeze. Not long, but I have achieved a forty-five minute viral freeze. And that, Catherine, is fifteen more minutes than we had last batch.”
“Can you give higher doses?” Catherine asked.
“No. No. Anything in higher volume could be as deadly as the virus.”
“What about more frequent doses in the early stages.”
“I thought of that.” Dean said. “But that’s where we’re screwed. No matter what stage given, the virus freezes, but when it returns and breaks the blockade, it’s ten times stronger. So an early stage could fly in the latter stage prematurely. I’m thinking ...” A loud crash of glass and a thump caused Dean to jolt his eyes to where he heard them come from. He saw Molly on the floor. “Shit. Have to go.” He disconnected the call to Catherine without a second thought and raced over to help Molly, never realizing the conversation he’d abrup
tly ended with Catherine would be the last one. Dean didn’t think of that. He just thought of Molly.
William finished cleaning up the little girl, propping her on pillows and medicating her to make her comfortable. He readied to move on to the next patient but grew tired of hearing the call of Henry’s name. He was being beckoned constantly. It wasn’t that Henry was nowhere to be found that irritated William, it was the fact that the men who called him failed to see that Henry didn’t have to be there. He didn’t have to help. He could have disappeared like many others had done. But Henry stayed. And he wished they would stop calling Henry and treating him as nothing. William had to stop himself from wondering when the annoying little military tyrants would fall victim to the plague as well, ending their incessant order-barking.
William wanted to search out Henry, curious if he was all right or had just had enough and left. There weren’t many people well enough to ask of Henry’s whereabouts, and it amazed William how many people Henry had helped, yet none of them remembered his face.
Walking through the tents, William asked several people if they had seen a tall Asian man in need of a haircut. Some told William he had gone off to the main building. Some said they had never seen him. William knew that when he made it to the main building, finding Henry inside would be an impossible task. The building was taken over. People had sought shelter there so as to be close to medical help. They laid in the lobby, on the furniture, floors and they lined the hallways like sardines in a can. William called out Henry’s name loudly, twice, maybe three times, and received no response. Figuring it was time to return to his patients, William left the building. If it wasn’t for a simple sneeze, William wouldn’t have stopped walking, his head wouldn’t have turned to the left, and he wouldn’t have seen Henry sitting alone on the side of the building.
Against the wall Henry sat, knees bent, his head on his knees, and his long hair dangled in what William believed was Henry’s own personal cover from the pain. Henry needed to get away, even for a few minutes, from everything that was happening. If that was what Henry needed then William wasn’t going to interrupt him. After observing Henry for another moment, William walked away.
May 31st - 6:30 p.m.
Ashtonville, Connecticut
Ellen had moved both of her children into her room and onto her queen-size bed. There she could see them both at the same time and do what she could to help them. She was taking time from giving medical relief to those who had gathered outside her home, lined up and waiting for help. She needed to take time with her children. She lay in a sitting-up position on the bed, Josh next to her, his head on her legs. Taylor was on the other side of Josh, curled in a fetal position. Ellen, arm draped across the child, lifted and dropped Taylor’s hair in between lightly tickling her forehead.
“Kiddo.” Joe called out quietly after opening the door. “I have to get back to Kelly’s now. Maggie Peters needs to leave. Her husband is sick now; Johnny just ran over to tell me.”
“How’s Maggie?” Ellen asked.
“Not sick. Not yet.”
Ellen lifted Josh’s head from her legs and slipped off the bed, trying not to disturb her children who had just fallen asleep. She covered them both, kissed them then stretched as she walked to Joe. “Have anymore shown up out there?”
“I think ...” Joe hesitated. “I think it’s getting ahead of us now.”
Ellen’s shoulders dropped. She brought her hand to her head and held back her bangs as she walked from the bedroom with Joe. “What are we gonna do. We can’t do this alone, Joe.” Ellen sounded so confused. “I wiped out every pharmacy I could and still that medication is not gonna be enough. And ... and there are four people I don’t think will make it through the night. Three are on my front lawn and one is in my guest room.”
Joe paused before going down the steps. He looked back at the closed guest room door. “Is he that bad now?”
“Oh, Joe.” Ellen gasped. “He’s that bad.”
“I’ll tell you what.” Joe walked with Ellen down the steps. “There’s an aid station in Stamford. Let me talk to Maggie. Let me see if I can get her to check in on Kelly and the girls tonight. You man the fort here and I’ll take Pete and the others to Stamford. It shouldn’t take long. A couple hours maybe.”
“Joe, it’s not gonna help them.” Ellen stopped before the front door.
“No, but it might help us. Maybe if I take them I can get us some help. At the very least, some supplies.”
“No. I can’t let you do that. You go back to Kelly. We’ll manage.” Ellen opened up her front door. “Oh my God.”
“You were saying?”
Ellen quickly looked at Joe then back out at her front lawn. In the hours that passed since she first set up at home the numbers had more than tripled. People were everywhere. The number multiplied like bacteria and they spread onto the neighboring lawns. And not only did the people stand, sit, and lay outside her home, they also formed a line from her front door that extended across her walk and down the street for as far as she could see.
May 31st - 7:15 p.m.
The White House - Washington, DC
One dim light was all that illuminated the oval office. How long had President Hadley sat there? Hours, maybe? In contemplation? Thought? Prayer? Slumped in his chair. His hair was no longer neat and combed; it couldn’t be from as many times as he had run his fingers through it. The news never got better. In fact, it began to only trickle in. He knew for the first time that the old saying ‘no news is good news’ didn’t hold true in a situation such as he faced.
Jason entered the room a bit apprehensively, worried about disturbing President Hadley. He had put it off for an hour and it was something he had to do. “Sir.” Jason walked slowly in front of President Hadley. “Sir, it’s ... it’s time.”
President Hadley’s eyes lifted to Jason, then without any words or questions he slowly stood up.
The steel elevator doors opened onto the sub-basement level of the White House. President Hadley, holding a small briefcase, stepped from it with Jason and one other man. They moved down a long corridor with concrete walls painted bright white. At the end of the corridor was a metal door. On each side of it a guard held a gun. The guards stepped aside as Jason stepped forward. After inserting his security card into the keypad at the door’s right, Jason moved and the door buzzed open. The President, Jason, and the third man walked through the door. The door slid closed and clicked as it locked.
The guards stepped back and resumed their post.
May 31st - 8:10 p.m.
County General Hospital - New York City, NY
Mabel’s family
Andrea charged into the room. The hospital scrubs she wore were completely covered in blood and her mouth grasped a syringe. As she bolted through the door her feet slid across the floor and she landed hands first at four-year-old Tara’s bed.
Tara’s body jerked and trembled, her head convulsed back and forth and blood flowed from her tiny mouth.
“Ok, baby, hold on.” Andrea covered Tara’s body with hers trying to hold her down.
“My baby.” Diane awoke and saw what was happening. “Help her, please.” Diane began to cough and choke, and she spit her own blood with every word she spoke.
Andrea could not maneuver the IV to administer the medication. As Tara’s heart monitor beeped out of control, Tara began to scream.
Quickly, Andrea took the syringe from her mouth and with one swift motion, her body still on top of Tara’s, injected the dying child in the left thigh. She stayed on top of her for a few seconds then stood up.
Tara’s heart monitor slowed down, then flat-lined.
“No!” Diane reached for her. “What did you do to her? My baby, my only baby.” At that moment Diane began to jolt, her body almost flinging itself from the bed. Before Andrea could reach her, Diane fell to the floor and died.
May 31st - 9:00 p.m.
Interstate 80 - Outskirts of Chicago, IL
Scre
aming, fighting, glass breaking, and gun shots were the sounds that filled the dark night on that jammed highway as multitudes of people tried to break the lines, lines that were held by a few soldiers and a wall made out of military vehicles.
Frank stood in the tent using his phone. He turned toward the gunfire and watched a civilian drop. He tried to speak again when through the corner of his eye, he watched one of his men drop in illness. The security of the lines was minimal as another soldier removed the one that had fallen. Like a game of eenie-meenie-miny-mo, all evening long Frank watched people just drop, heads back, knees buckling, they went down. In the crowd or on his side of the barricade, the virus showed no favoritism.
“No sir!” Frank shouted into the phone over the noise. “I lost twenty-seven more men to his bug not one hour ago. I can’t ...” The sounds of an explosion and shattering glass caused Frank to lower the phone and turn his head, his face lit up by the roaring flames that shot from a truck nearby. “Shit, we have ...” Another blast followed as another truck ignited. The bodies of four soldiers flew into the air from the explosion, and Frank’s eyes widened when he saw the truck door speeding his way. Dropping the phone, Frank dove to his right, feeling the heat of its near miss as the door whizzed by. On the ground, Frank rolled to a stand. Forgetting the phone, Frank swung his M-16 from his shoulder, gripped it, pumped it and bolted in the direction of the screaming, charging mob that violently broke the barricade.
May 31st - 9:15 p.m.
Ashtonville, Connecticut
It was like Ellen’s street was the Yellowstone Park of the dying. People camped out everywhere. Tents were erected, fires lit, sleeping bags lay scattered about. The noise level was high, filled with moans and cries of all those who gathered there.
The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series Page 12
