by A. R. Shaw
They’d started doing this hokey pokey business a while back and now it was an established ritual to break up the gravity of the situation, as they entered quarantine.
Both men finished their last twirl and the next set of doors opened for them. They stood in place, removed the hazmat gear and stepped into the new sterile environment. Then the doors behind them closed and they were again misted and twirled with closed eyes like airplanes but no singing this time, as they had to hold their breath for too long. The final set of doors opened and then they entered another room set up with two cots beside monitors that they needed to hook up to one another. A small refrigerator with a microwave on top and a facility throne with screen were positioned in the far corner.
A disembodied voice broke the silence, “We loaded a little surprise this time. Check the play list on your iPad, Rick.”
Rick walked over to the digital read and saw that all the episodes of Seinfeld were listed. “All right! Thanks, guys,” he said.
Steven said, “Shit, seriously?” and picked up his own iPad to see what awaited him, “House and The Walking Dead. Very funny,” he said to the voice known as Clarisse, the Quarantine Queen, as they called her.
“Your families are waiting to hear from you, of course, but have already been notified of the mission’s success. You’ve both been here before and know what to do. This is the first hour, so get started. We have to treat this just like the first time,” Clarisse said.
Both men unzipped their disposable Tyvek suits at the same time, stepping out of them and tossing them into the chute that extended to the instant incinerator. They could hear the first chamber going through the incineration process on the front part of the building. In a kind of silent ballet, both men wearing standard issue boxer shorts and white t-shirts walked over to their separate sides and inserted a needle into the ports that were installed prior for the continuous blood draws the quarantine procedures demanded. They withdrew their own blood with use of the ports and put the samples in airlock chambers on each side that would be tested the first hour, second hour, fourth hour, eighth hour so on and so forth to make sure the probability of the virus detection maintained the predicted outcome.
This was not the fun part. If the virus was present, you were given the choice to use the red injection syringe which you could take with you to the incinerator portal to make things easier for the living. Simply inject it into the port and fall asleep and never wake-up. When no vital signs were detected after a certain amount of time the portal would simply incinerate the remains and the virus along with it. Or, like some of the arrivals found, they could spend the last of their days in the comfortable bedroom chamber until nature took its course and then the whole room could be set to incineration to keep the virus from spreading.
This is what they’d had to do with the Carsons. Each and every member of the team watched as first the son and then the daughter, followed by the father, and then finally the mother all succumbed to the virus. The mother cared for each of them until she no longer could. A wonderful mother and wife to the very end, she saw them through. It tortured the Preppers to watch it all and it came as a relief to see the last vital sign go flat finally. Then, of course, they felt guilty for feeling the relief. Since then, all who had to go through quarantine tried to inject some humor as armor when entering the chamber. The reality of what might be required of them was too damn hard.
After the two guys had finished their blood withdrawals, they put on the vitals monitors, expertly attaching them where they needed to go, and then pulled back the covers to their cots. Once comfortable, they used the inter-radio system to check in with their families. Both chatted with their loved ones briefly as the hour was merely for the insane and better coherence would be tolerated in the light of day. They were too punch drunk to go to sleep just yet so Steven got up and checked his little refrigerator stocked with the things he favored. He was just checking so that he would have something to look forward to later. For now, he pulled out a bottle of water and drank that down.
Rick asked because he wanted to know and because he knew they would always be listening, “Are the cameras up and ready? Camp still asleep?” he asked to the disembodied voice.
Dalton answered, “Yes, Rick, they’re still asleep. I’m zooming in on the boy right now. He’s on his side so I can’t tell much other than his chest is rising and falling so that’s a good sign. Did Graham have any reaction time?” Dalton asked.
Rick lay in bed looking up at the wall with his arms crossed behind his head, tapping his fingers and making the wires jiggle in the process. “His trigger finger was happy with one leg ready to go, but that was as far as he got,” Rick said.
“I have something to tell you, Dalton,” Rick said after a moment of silence, feeling guilty about his omission already. Dalton let it hang in the air a moment as he wrote down notes, observing the sleeping members of Graham’s Camp.
“Save it, Rick. I already know,” Dalton said grouchily.
Rick winced.
“Wished I’d thought of it first,” Dalton said, knowing Rick felt guilty.
“They’re all going to be pretty pissed in the morning, including that dog,” Rick said looking over at Steven, who just shrugged his shoulders. Somehow, this thought just now occurred to Rick.
“Don’t worry, I told them it was all your idea in the note,” Dalton said.
“Goodnight, jerk wad,” Rick said rolling over, taking his covers and wires with him.
“Goodnight, Princess,” Dalton said.
~ ~ ~
Dalton continued to monitor Graham’s group, with what he could see from the cameras. Soft snoring sounds crept through the microphones and not so soft snoring sounds invaded the one from the living room. Everything seemed fine as Dalton paid close attention to the lakeside and front perimeter cameras at the same time. One risk was having the carriers off sentry duty, making them defenseless. Dalton risked the chances that the intruders wouldn’t attack during such a bright moonlit night, which paved the way for their own shenanigans. They had to do this now to give them the things they needed to protect themselves better and sooner so they would be prepared for the next night attack.
It was quite something as he watched them get through the lake trail without falling victim to one of their primitive booby-traps. The ambient light of the moon cast down on them and the intricacy of the traps challenging as they maneuvered through the maze, often tripping, which caused the other men watching the monitors to hold their breath.
At the second hour, both men in quarantine were prompted to get up and do the second withdrawal. After that, they could each sleep for four hours until prompted again. “So far so good,” came Clarisse’s soft voice.
“Goodnight, Clarisse,” both men said in unison. It somehow was reminiscent of a bygone cartoon, involving two chipmunks, but they weren’t really sure.
The voice laughed and said nicely to them, “Goodnight, boys.”
The lights went off and the two men drifted off finally as infrared lighting watched their every breath and pulse for the first of the ten day observation.
39 A Sigh of Relief
It was Sam that first detected movement. It was pretty damn cold outside, so he’d come in for another cup of coffee to warm up, between projects. He’d passed by Dalton with his head down asleep on his arm in front of the monitors, drooling on himself.
Sam filled his mug, walked up behind Dalton’s chair, and observed the screens. “Hey, Dalton,” Sam said, tapping him on the shoulder. “I think one of them is up,” Sam said real quiet as he tried not to startle his friend.
Dalton lifted his head and tried to focus on the screen Sam pointed to. It was the little boy moving. Dalton watched and then refocused the hidden camera closer. He said a quick thank you to Rick, the enigma, for instinctively knowing the exact spot to place the concealed cameras. On the top of the last bunk, he saw the boy’s leg pull up and then pushed up on his hands.
“Oh, thank Go
d,” Dalton said under his breath, releasing his fear as he emptied his lungs. Of all the carriers, the boy was the one at greatest risk of overdose by the sleeping vapor they had to use. They had no way to calculate where he slept in the room so this was the biggest hazard. The vapor gas was good but had been known to have a fifteen percent chance of death, especially in small children.
Dalton and Sam watched and were able to tell by the look on his face as the sleepy boy looked around, coming to the conclusion that something wasn’t right. It was clearly daylight and everyone remained in their bunks. They watched as he climbed down the ladder and looked confused. He jumped the remaining two rungs without making much of a sound. The microphones were working great. Dalton could even hear the blankets as they moved about.
The boy walked up to Graham’s sleeping form.
“Oh, here we go,” Sam said.
Bang shook Graham’s shoulder without a response.
“Graham, wake up,” Bang said, whispering at first.
Graham showed no signs of life. Bang tried again with more force, using both of his hands and his weight as he pushed on Graham’s chest.
“Graham, wake up,” Bang said a little louder again.
Getting no reaction, the boy started to look around. It appeared to Dalton that the boy was on the verge of panic.
“Calm down, buddy, they’ll be fine,” Dalton said out loud to himself and Sam, but wished he could reassure the panicked look on the boy’s face.
Bang returned his attention to Graham and put his ear on Graham’s chest, presumably to hear his heartbeat. He lifted his head, patted Graham twice lightly on his chest, and looked around at the others.
“Crap, poor kid,” Sam said, making Dalton feel even more guilt-ridden.
Bang walked over to the girls’ side of the room and slid his hand down Sheriff’s furry side without getting a reaction. He laid his head down on the dog’s side too, and must have heard the rhythm he needed to because he stood erect again.
“Smart kid,” Dalton said.
He pushed roughly on Macy’s back, moving the whole mattress with both her and the dog, but neither stirred. Then, as if it just occurred to him, Bang ran around Macy’s bunk to Tala’s against the wall and saw that her long black hair fell over her face. He gently moved it away and then said, “Tala, wake up,” as he shook her shoulder. He put his small hand up to her mouth and nose. Feeling for breath? Yes. Of course.
“Uh, this is hard to watch,” Sam said.
“He’ll be fine. At the back of the room, he was the least affected by the gas, so it’s likely that either Mark or Graham will wake up next,” Dalton speculated.
As if the boy read Dalton’s mind, he ran from the girls’ side and climbed the ladder over Graham to investigate Mark. This time, he climbed up right over Mark’s legs and up to his chest, shoving the older boy hard and said in a loud voice, “Mark, wake up.”
“Stop it, kid!” Mark yelled, scaring Bang and causing him to jump back.
Sam sloshed his coffee in reaction to the surprised response. Dalton also jumped back.
“Whew,” Dalton said and grabbed his chest as he saw his young cousin alive and pissed off. Sam slapped Dalton on the back, knowing it was important to Dalton that the boy be cared for.
Bang leaned down and whispered to Mark, “Something’s wrong. Everyone’s still asleep.”
Even though the boy whispered, all Dalton had to do was turn up the volume to hear the conversation. Sam was surprised and a bit concerned such technology existed, especially in the hands of Rick.
“That’s not right,” Sam said, and took a sip of his cooling coffee.
“Yeah well, I wish we’d had these in China before everything went to shit,” Dalton said and turned it back down to a normal level. Dalton started noting the time each boy woke up on the log he had in front of him. If there were problems with the others, they could at least read the data and try to gauge what the likely wake-time should be based on location and weight.
They could see Mark struggle to come around. He put his hand blindly on Bang’s shoulder and tried to reassure the younger boy. “It’s okay, Bang, it’s just too early yet. Go back to bed,” Mark said, even though it was fully bright in the bunkroom.
Bang nudged him again. “It’s daytime, Mark, even Sheriff won’t wake up, or Graham or Marcy,” Bang said and as if his using Marcy’s name triggered some automatic reflex, Mark elbowed himself up, squinted, blinked several times and stared across the bunkroom at Marcy. “Crap, you’re right,” he said and rubbed at his eyes. He sat up quickly, swayed, then said, “What is going on? Ohh, the room’s spinning.”
He made their way down the ladder then stumbled across the aisle. “Marcy? Marcy!” Mark yelled over to her without a response. Dalton saw panic in his eyes, terror. Mark reached out to touch her, and winced. “Crap, my arm hurts,” he complained, rubbing the sore area.
“Mine too,” Bang said.
“Whiners,” Dalton kidded as he observed the scene.
Bang shimmied down the ladder after Mark and tried to push on Graham a few more times but only resulted in making his whole body appear lost at sea.
“Graham!” Bang said again, a panicky pleading in his voice. “Wake up, please wake up!”
Bang wiggled Graham’s bearded chin, causing his mouth to open slightly. Mark came and tried to help Bang. “Graham, wake up, something’s wrong!” he yelled.
“Wake up, something’s wrong, Graham. We need you!” the boys said again.
Dalton met Sam’s eyes and saw a reflection of his own feelings of culpability as they watched this unfold. “It’ll be okay,” Sam said, but didn’t sound really sure.
“Yeah,” Dalton answered. He didn’t feel all that certain, either.
~ ~ ~
Graham started moving reluctantly. He muttered, “Lea’ me ’lone,” and tried to roll back into the dream where Nelly and he lay on a blanket under the warm sun as he ran his hand over the life within her that they had created. Nelson, for a boy, they’d decided and Grace, for a girl. The sunlight sparkled on her red hair and she laughed…
“Graham! Please! We need you!”
The boys? Yes. Both boys. Bang and Mark were shaking him, insisting something was wrong. Right. The boys needed him. He needed to help them. “Okay, I’m coming,” Graham murmured.
His eyes were still closed as he moved his legs around. Mark moved the gun away just until Graham awakened fully. “I’m coming,” Graham said again and seemed to doze again so Mark dragged on his shoulder once more.
“I’m coming,” Graham repeated.
He opened his eyes a slit and saw both boys looking at him with concern. “Wake up, Graham, please!” Bang’s small voice trembled.
“I am,” Graham said.
He blinked his eyes a few times and then shook his head, trying to break free of the bonds that held him down.
“What’s going on?” he asked and felt a deep stab of pain in his right arm, like he’d been slugged, or maybe pulled a muscle.
“We don’t know yet,” Mark said, and left his side to go over to look at Macy and Sheriff, who were in the same state as Graham was, half awake, just beginning to stir. Mark climbed the ladder to Marcy and pushed her legs over. “Marcy,” he called to her again.
She lay on her left side. As the boy shook her back and forth, she became annoyed at the motion and lamely swiped her hand at whoever was pestering her.
Graham looked at the commotion with Bang trying to help him stand. Not seeing Sheriff in motion concerned him right away. He squinted at the dog and then looked beyond him to Tala. “She’s still sleeping too,” Bang said and Graham looked up at Bang, not certain how he knew that Graham’s concern was more for Tala than the others.
“Where’s Ennis?” asked Graham as Mark jumped down from Marcy’s bunk. Both boys looked at him like they didn’t know.
Graham swung both feet to the floor, hoping the room would stop moving if he planted them there. He rubbed the sides of
his face and looked blearily at the floor in front of him.
“What’s all this?” Graham motioned with his opened hands to the pile of stuff lying there.
“I don’t know,” Mark said. “I never noticed it there before. I was too worried about you.” Graham shook his groggy head. Both boys must have walked completely around it without even seeing it was there. Graham got up too fast and grabbed onto the bunk for support till his head settled a bit. He willed his legs to work and walked around the stuff, not even trying to inventory it yet, even though there was a big generator sitting there. He made it to Macy’s bunk first.
“Hey, Macy girl, wake up,” Graham said, shaking her slight body. When she only peered at him, confused, he grabbed her chin and shook it sideways a few times to bring her out of it. She started to stir on her own and then Graham walked around to Tala.
“Tala,” he said. She lay on her side facing him. He completed what Bang had started and pushed the rest of her black raven hair over one ear out of her face and sat on her mattress. “Tala, wake up,” he said again.
“What in the hell is going on in here with all this yellin’?” Ennis asked from where he stood in the doorway.
“Something’s wrong with people,” Bang said. “I don’t feel good and no one wants to get up.”
Graham looked back down at Tala, who had opened her eyes at hearing Ennis gripe. “What’s the matter?” she asked him. “What’s Bang talking about?”
“Just try to wake up,” he said and found himself stroking her long silky hair.
Mark got Marcy to sit up and she tried her best to stay that way, but her eyes closed again. She fought to reach the surface but wanted nothing more than to slide back to her pillow.
Bang tried to wake Macy up, but she was having none of it.
