H7N9 Penitence

by Mark Campbell

  Teddy frowned and sat back with a sour expression on his face.

  Turtle glanced over at him and smiled, dropping more ashes on his chest.

  “Ya look like a man who jus’ got a death sentence,” Turtle said. “Cheer up, my brotha. It could be worse!”

  Teddy shook his head.

  “It just doesn’t look like what I expected.”

  Turtle looked confused.

  “Brotha… What did ya expect?”

  Teddy knew that it was a good question, but he didn’t have a good answer.

  “I’m going to see if we can pick up a signal,” Teddy finally said as he reached for the radio. “We should be close enough.”

  Turtle didn’t seem concerned. He flicked his cigarette butt out the window and lit another.

  Teddy scanned the AM stations and picked up a few warbled rogue broadcasts, but nothing that he could decipher. He went through the FM stations and stopped when he came across a transmission.

  “–at once. This recorded message will loop until the situation is contained. This is an activation of the Emergency Alert System with an important message from the Federal Emergency Management Agency of the United States Department of Homeland Security. The CDC, in acting with accordance with WHO, has labeled the H7N9 avian flu subtype, AKA ‘The Harlem Flu’, a public health emergency of greatest concern. Martial law has been declared. All civilians are hereby ordered to report to their nearest processing center. Weapons of any kind are strictly prohibited. Those who are severely-ill or are displaying symptoms should call 911 and press option 1 – do not come to the processing center if you are sick. Do not try to flee the city. Violators will be–”

  Turtle reached over and turned off the radio.

  “Dat shit be depressing, brotha,” Turtle said as he leaned back once again. He took a long drag and blew the smoke out the window. “Dis processing center… It’s da stadium, yea?”

  “Yeah… I reckon so,” Teddy muttered.

  “Sound like a lost cause,” Turtle persisted. “We makin a mistake.”

  “We won’t know until we go see…”

  Turtle cackled again, ashes dropping everywhere.

  “We’ll see, brotha… We’ll see.”

  A green sign hung over the highway: 1-10 Interchange – 3 MI

  Teddy pointed up at the sign as they drove underneath it.

  “It looks like we’ll find out sooner rather than later,” Teddy said. “Remember, he said to turn left.”

  Turtle narrowed his eyes and flicked his still-lit cigarette out the window.

  “Yea, I know, stop pesterin’ me,” Turtle said as he pressed his foot down on the accelerator. “Wut do ya hope to accomplish at dat place?”

  A large elevated cloverleaf interchange approached in the distance.

  Teddy pressed his back against the seat and braced himself as the vehicle accelerated. He glanced over and noticed that they were approaching the turn-off ramp at eighty miles per hour.

  “Slow down,” Teddy said.

  Turtle ignored him and kept his foot heavy on the gas.

  The right two lanes of the highway diverted off of the main road and fed onto the interchange. An askew sign overhead read: 1-10 WEST – DOWNTOWN – LEFT LANE EXIT ONLY / 1-10 EAST – AIRPORT – RIGHT LANE EXIT ONLY. A tattered white banner with the Homeland Security logo on it flapped in the wind underneath the sign and read: FEMA Processing Center – Follow Route East towards Stadium.

  “Wut are ya plans?” Turtle asked again. “We jus fit in for a while? Play army man?”

  Teddy started to panic and gripped the seat. His eyes widened as the truck approached the turn-off.

  “Turtle! Slow this motherfucker down!” he shouted.

  The truck’s tires squealed as the vehicle veered off the highway. A shower of sparks flew off the fender as it scraped against the Fitch barriers positioned at the off-ramp’s gore; the black tops of the barrels flew off and sand spewed everywhere.

  “Goddammit!” Teddy shouted as the vehicle shook. The tires smoked as they struggled to maintain traction. “Are you fucking insane?!”

  Turtle laughed.

  “I’m jus saying brotha!” Turtle said as he accelerated up the ramp onto the cloverleaf interchange. “Dis plan is foul! We shud hit da banks, get sum cash, and make our own way! Be free!”

  Teddy didn’t say anything as he stared straight ahead, face pale from panic. He reached out and gripped the dashboard.

  Turtle glanced over at him and laughed again, gold teeth shining. He turned the truck left at top speed onto the elevated ramp that fed into downtown. The vehicle started to lean as it turned the corner and the tires smoked. Sparks flew in the air as the bumper scrapped against the guardrail the whole time.

  “Turtle! Slow down or I will shoot you in the fucking head!” Teddy yelled, unable to look away from the road. Sweat poured down his face and his chest rose and fell rapidly. He pushed himself back as the vehicle started to lean more and more.

  The truck reached the peak of the interchange and started to turn around blind corner as it made its descent back down towards I-10.

  Turtle looked over at Teddy and cackled. He reached over and slapped Teddy on the chest.

  “See?! Dat yer trouble, brotha! Ya too serious!” Turtle shouted. “We free now! Freedom! Know wut dat is?! Loosen up! Have some fun! Laugh! Da world is ours now, but ya act stiff and quiet like da man gonna put his boot on yer throat! No speed limits! No rules! No law! We free!”

  “Okay! I get it! Just–” Teddy stopped midsentence, gasped, and ducked in his seat. “LOOK OUT!”

  Confused, Turtle turned his attention back towards the road and lost his smile instantly–

  The entire interstate was congested with dust-covered vehicles of all shapes and sizes bogged down with luggage and small pieces of furniture. A multitude of fender-benders, overturned trucks, and abandoned vehicles were ensnared in traffic created a perpetual gridlock. Decomposing corpses carrying backpacks and suitcases were scattered between the cars while drivers and passengers - all practically mummified from the arid desert heat - sat slouched in their vehicles with the windows rolled up. Sand covered the vehicles and buzzards hovered overhead.

  Traffic was backed up halfway up onto the on-ramp.

  Turtle slammed on the brakes, but it was too late.

  The rubber on the tires started to burn, and the wheels locked up.

  Turtle jerked the wheel to the side and the truck flipped over. All of the windows shattered and the boxes in the back went skittering across the asphalt as the truck rocketed ahead in a shower of sparks.

  The truck made a resounding BOOM as it smashed against the rear-end of a mini-van.

  As black smoke started to rise into the dusky sky, a group of vultures knowingly circled overhead, waiting.

  CHAPTER 15

  Teddy’s whole body ached and his head throbbed; every breath hurt, every breath was labored. His arms dangled above his head and he was suspended in the air by his seatbelt. It took him several seconds before he even realized that he was hanging upside down.

  Tinnitus robbed him of his hearing and his vision was blurry from the airbag’s impact. A noxious burnt-chemical smell lingered in the air mixed with the aroma of–

  Gasoline?

  Shit, Teddy thought.

  He realized that he was trapped in a powder keg.

  He knocked the deflated airbag off his face and his vision slowly began to come back into focus.

  In front of him he saw the mangled remnants of the dashboard; the hood was crumpled inwards into the cabin and the engine block was shoved through the center console. Oil and coolant dripped from the cracked engine block onto the shattered sunroof.

  Turtle was lying below Teddy on the roof, twisted and bloodied, with his legs pinned down by the broken drivetrain protruding from the floorboard. His left eye was swollen shut and a bone poked through his right shoulder. He looked up at Teddy with a terrified expression as gasoline leaked from one of th
e engine’s broken hoses, dribbled onto his chest, and pooled around him.

  Teddy saw Turtle’s swollen lips moving, but he couldn’t hear anything over the ringing inside his head. Groaning, he reached over and unlatched his seatbelt.

  He immediately fell off the seat and landed next to Turtle.

  Teddy cried out in pain as glass shards and small pieces of metal embedded themselves in his back.

  Black smoke started billowing in through the vents and crept in through the shattered windshield.

  Teddy forced himself to sit up as he dusted the glass pieces off himself. He looked over and stared at his shattered passenger’s window – it was his only means of escape.

  The ringing started to subside and he could hear Turtle gasping for breath.

  Ignoring the pain that radiated through his body, Teddy started to crawl towards the open window–

  Turtle grabbed his ankle.

  “Please…” Turtle begged, speech slurred. He turned his head towards Teddy and stared at him with wide-eyes. “Help me, brotha… Get me outta here… I’m stuck.”

  The smoke became thicker inside the cabin.

  Teddy stared at the greasy drivetrain that was pressing down against Turtle’s legs; it looked like it had reduced both of the man’s legs to mush.

  He knew that even if he did manage to get the heavy piece off of Turtle, the man would just end up bleeding out and dying from his wounds. He figured that the pressure of the machinery was the only thing preventing him from losing any more blood than he already had.

  “Hurry up!” Turtle insisted. “Lift dis fucker off of me! We runnin’ outta time!”

  Turtle kept his hand on Teddy’s ankle and squeezed tightly, shaking.

  Teddy mulled the thought over.

  Maybe I can at least pull him out and stop the bleeding with a tourniquet.

  Even as he considered it, the thought of Turtle firing at the young boy at the gas station crossed his mind.

  He quickly realized that he had made up his mind a long time ago.

  Teddy shook his head.

  “I can’t help you,” Teddy said.

  Teddy yanked his foot free from Turtle’s grasp and crawled out of the truck.

  “Wait! No, brotha! Ya have to get me out! HELP ME!” Turtle shouted frantically.

  Stiff and sore, Teddy got on his feet; his back popped loudly. He turned and looked at the vehicle.

  The truck was barely recognizable. It was lying on its back and was practically halfway inside the backseat of the minivan; the truck’s rear wheels were still spinning. Pieces of the vehicle’s trim and plastic molding were lying everywhere.

  Flames shot up from the front of the vehicle and started to spread; Turtle screamed.

  Teddy stepped back and looked down into the cab at Turtle.

  Turtle was wriggling in a desperate attempt to get the drivetrain off his crushed legs. He cried out in pain and struck his fist against the metal repeatedly until his knuckles split open. The gas continued to dribble down on his chest.

  “I’m sorry,” Teddy said without much conviction.

  Turtle turned and gave Teddy a wild gaze, a wounded animal trapped in a snare.

  “I cud’ve killed ya! I saved ya! Yer ass owes me! I–”

  Turtle’s words were cut off as the gasoline inside the cab ignited.

  Teddy flinched as flames shot out of the broken windows. He stepped back and stared, squinting. Even above the roaring flames, Teddy heard Turtle’s bloodcurdling screams, and watched as the man’s body turned black and started to wilt away like a burning leaf.

  Teddy turned away from the truck and started to limp down the ramp towards the interstate. His right ankle was bruised and felt swollen. Any pressure he applied caused sharp pain to shoot up his leg. It had to be broken, or, at best, sprained.

  Darkness started to settle on the city, but far in the distance he saw the glow of stadium lights.

  Given his current state, it’d be a good day’s walk, maybe even two.

  As he limped down the ramp, he glanced inside some of the cars.

  Most of the cars had families sitting inside amongst curtains of cobwebs and mounds of hastily-packed luggage. Their jaws were hung open and their leathery skin was pulled taunt against their sunken faces. Many were wearing pajamas, clutching boxes of tissues and holding onto purses with their skeletal fingers.

  Teddy took pause at one car, a grey little Honda sedan. Inside he spotted the decaying corpse of a small child slumped over his mother’s lap in the front seat.

  He shook his head and looked away.

  He didn’t know what to expect at the stadium, but it had to be better than what was out here.

  Behind him, the truck blossomed into a massive orange fireball as the fuel tank finally ignited. Flaming pieces of debris flew out in every direction.

  Teddy stumbled forward from the concussive force of the blast, but he didn’t stop walking and he didn’t turn back.

  His leg ached and it hurt worse with each step he took; he knew he had to find a place to hold up for the night and rest if he hoped to make it all the way to the stadium.

  He reached the bottom of the ramp and leaned against the guardrail to rest as he peered off into the city.

  He was in the heart of downtown Tucson.

  High-rises surrounded the interstate, and most were residential apartments. Bedsheets and clotheslines dangled from some of the balconies and a few windows had candlelight flickering inside.

  Teddy knew that given the commotion Turtle had made, he was bound to have some eyes peering down at him.

  Even worse was the fact that he had left his rifle behind.

  “I have to get the fuck out of here,” he muttered to himself.

  He clumsily crawled over the guardrail and stood on the steep sandy embankment.

  A gridlocked two-lane feeder road ran parallel to the interstate. Cars and trucks were parked haphazardly on the road. Tucson police vehicles blocked off the roads that fed into downtown; the cruisers’ doors had been forced open, the windows shattered, and a majority of the cars had been reduced to charred metallic husks.

  On the opposite side of the feeder road, Teddy spotted a Starbucks and a shuttered café located at the bottom floor of an apartment high-rise.

  It was as good a place as any, to lay low for the night, he figured.

  Trying his best to ignore the throbbing pain in his ankle, he started to carefully walk down the embankment. His boots slid with each step he took; getting any traction on the pebbled ground was near impossible.

  Teddy stopped when he saw someone moving in the distance.

  A figure shrouded in a burlap tarp and pushing a grocery cart walked along the side of the feeder road. It stopped and froze as it peered up at Teddy.

  He squinted and stepped forward as he tried to make the figure out–

  His foot slipped and he went sliding down the pebbles, cursing and crying out in pain.

  Teddy came to a hard stop on the curb next to the feeder road. The rocks caused small lacerations on his palms and his uniform was dusty and torn. Blood covered his swollen ankle; he tried to stand up, but fell back down as soon as he tried to put any pressure on his injured side.

  He knew that he wasn’t walking to the stadium any time soon.

  “Goddammit,” he muttered.

  Teddy crawled into the street and grabbed the back bumper of a Cadillac to pull himself up. Grunting in pain, he stood up on one leg while supporting himself on the vehicle.

  He looked around, but didn’t see the person pushing the cart.

  I best get out of sight before anyone else comes snooping around, he thought.

  If he wasn’t in any condition to walk, he certainly wasn’t in any condition to fight.

  Teddy gave himself a quick dusting and knocked off the small pebbles and dust that covered him. He hobbled through the traffic, hopping on one leg, as he made his way towards the Starbucks.

  The front of the coffee shop had its w
indows shattered and the front door chained shut. Underneath the ‘Closed’ sign was a handwritten notice that said any sick patrons would be refused service as per rules from the management. All of the metallic bistro tables and chairs that had once made up the outside seating area lay toppled over and the newspaper racks outside were picked clean, aside from a few weathered Arizona Republic papers.

  As Teddy hopped closer towards the store, he stared at the Arizona Republic’s front pages from close to a month ago on November 5th. It showed a group of armed, masked protestors marching down a burning metropolitan street. The headline read: ‘Civil Unrest Erupts Nationwide after Leaked CDC Report Goes Viral’.

  He frowned and shook his head.

  For better or worse, at least the prison provided some form of quiet and isolation away from the madness that appeared to have overtaken the rest of the country.

  Teddy avoided the front door and stumbled his way through one of the shattered windows.

  Inside things still appeared pretty much the same; tiny tables and wooden chairs filled the café while a large glass refrigerated case sat next to the barista counter. Moldy pastries and sour dairy drinks filled the glass case and dirty dishes and mugs were piled in the sink behind the counter. The shelves had been picked clean of coffee beans, grinders, and expensive trinkets; even the complicated coffee and espresso makers behind the counter were gone.

  Teddy had no idea why someone would bother with coffee beans during the apocalypse, but he never had been a coffee guy anyway.

  He limped in-between the small tables towards the counter and stopped to catch his breath. As he leaned on top of the counter, he noticed that the cash register had been pried open and the glass tip jar had been smashed to pieces.