Pandemic: Beginnings: A Post-Apocalyptic Medical Thriller Fiction Series (The Pandemic Series Book 1)

by Bobby Akart

  Mac walked confidently directly toward Hunter as if she were going to challenge him to a duel. He moved his lips, but no words came out. Later, after reflecting on the moment, he realized that he’d never experienced an encounter like this before.

  “Hey, I know you,” said Mac as she approached. Hunter couldn’t move or reply. “Aren’t you the DOD guy from Guatemala?”

  “Um, yes. Nate Hunter, DTRA. We met at the outbreak site in the jungle at—”

  “Oh, yes, Hunter. I remember you vividly. No need for reminders, thanks.”

  Hunter! Snap out of it, old buddy!

  “That’s correct. I’m sorry I forgot your name, Commander.” Hunter was making reference to Mac’s uniform.

  “Lieutenant Commander, but thanks anyway.” Mac chuckled, pointing to her gold leaf. A silver leaf designated a commander. “Dr. Mackenzie Hagan, CDC.”

  Hunter was regaining consciousness after surviving the initial hit by the thunderbolt. He couldn’t figure out why Dr. Mackenzie Hagan was having this effect on him now, whereas it was different in the Guatemalan jungle.

  “I apologize for staring, Dr. Hagan. It’s just, um, a little unsettling to see someone you know halfway around the world. We’re both a long way from the States, and Guatemala.”

  Mac stared at him as if she were assessing his intentions. They’d got off on the wrong foot the first time they met, although he blamed her for the awkward first encounter. She was borderline territorial that day.

  “You can call me Mac.”

  Breaking the ice, this is good.

  “May I offer you a beer?” said Hunter as he thrust the moisture-covered bottle of Bud in her direction.

  “Oh, no, thanks.”

  “Well, maybe a glass of wine?” asked Hunter as he swung his body to draw Mac’s attention to the lobby bar.

  Mac laughed. “No, not wine. Actually, one of those Budweisers would be great, except I can’t drink in uniform.”

  He desperately wanted to throw down a few swigs to get his courage up, but instead he just went for it. “Yeah, I get it. So maybe you’d like to change and come down and have a drink with me?”

  Mac hesitated and continued to assess Hunter. He had never felt uncomfortable like this around a woman before. Normally, he was confident in his game.

  “Yeah, sure. I’ll have a drink with you. Just give me time to change and I’ll meet you in the bar.”

  “For sure?”

  Mac had a puzzled look on her face. “Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

  The sweating beer bottle began to create a puddle at Hunter’s feet. If he didn’t move this along soon, there would be a serious slip-and-fall hazard in the middle of the lobby.

  “When we met in Guatemala, I got the distinct impression that you didn’t like me.”

  “No, I didn’t like the person who was holding out on me. When I come back down, we’ll talk and then I’ll reevaluate.”

  Yes! exclaimed Hunter to himself as he waived down a bellhop to deliver his bag to his room. He hustled to find the perfect table.

  *****

  After Mac returned in a very girlish, white cotton dress, the couple began to get to know one another. The first topic of conversation was their reason for being in Greece. Mac explained the issues surrounding the migrant from Libya and the misdiagnosis, which could result in a significant outbreak of the plague.

  “The world is completely unprepared for a global pandemic,” said Mac as she finished off her second beer. “In 2003, a doctor who contracted SARS in a laboratory setting unknowingly infected several guests at a hotel in Hong Kong. Overnight, the virus spread across the planet. In China, they are fighting a new strain of the bird flu, which kills half of the people it infects. Zika has now reached over fifty countries and I just received a report that it’s become more widespread in the American Southwest.”

  “This is part of the work we do at the DTRA,” interjected Hunter. “You have nightmares of an uncontrolled outbreak. We have nightmares of a bioterror attack that accelerates the spread of infectious diseases.”

  Mac motioned for their server to bring her another beer. “World governments focus on the terror threat. There is always conversation surrounding nuclear attacks or weapons of mass destruction. Yet the threat of a deadly pandemic remains dangerously overlooked. Pandemics now occur with greater frequency due to factors like international travel, overpopulation in urban areas, and a health care system that is stretched too thin.”

  “Things have changed since the days of the Spanish flu,” added Hunter.

  “They have, and so have these deadly pathogens. Over time, they’ve mutated, which allows them to spread and kill faster than their predecessors. Now, we have to deal with superbugs that are antibiotic and antimicrobial resistant.”

  Hunter had read about superbugs and they’d become a topic of the conversation in DTRA briefings. “There’s a new one, Canada something or other.”

  Mac laughed. “You know, the use of Latin can certainly make understanding the science of epidemiology difficult. You’re referring to Candida auris—an emerging fungus that has sent shockwaves through health care facilities around the world. It was first discovered in Japan when it was found in a man’s ear, but now this superbug has spread to four continents.”

  “What does it do?” asked Hunter.

  “C. auris, as it’s referred to, is capable of entering open wounds, where it moves through the bloodstream until it infects the urinary tract. It’s resistant to most antifungal drugs. But like the plague, which we discussed earlier, it’s often misdiagnosed as a common yeast infection. The infection spreads, causing death in nearly seventy percent of patients.”

  Hunter leaned back in his chair and studied Mac. This was an incredibly engaging conversation with a beautiful woman. In the past, because of his lack of interest in forming a committed relationship, he hadn’t pursued the type of woman he’d consider marrying. When he fell in love, he’d have to make career changes that he wasn’t prepared to do yet.

  Hunter was interested in pursuing this discussion from a bioterror aspect. “The world looks at terrorists as a bunch of flag-waving, gun-toting fools riding around in the desert, killing people. The media sensationalizes the so-called lone-wolf terrorist who is willing to die in exchange for taking the lives of innocent people on the street behind the wheel of a garbage truck.”

  “You’re right,” Mac added. “On the flight into Athens, I picked up an English version of a French newspaper, which reported that six out of ten people in France don’t feel safe anywhere. They believe the police and the gendarmerie are understaffed and that national security has taken a backseat to assimilation of refugees from the Middle East. The isolated terror attacks have taken its toll on all of Europe.”

  Hunter passed on another beer when the server came to check on them. This conversation was too intriguing to cloud his mind with more alcohol. “The EU has funded a new program called EQuATox, a network of laboratories and research facilities from twenty countries.”

  “Yeah, I’m familiar with it. Their Early Warning and Response System is tied into our network so that we can exchange information quickly.”

  “Good,” said Hunter. “Wouldn’t that help in preventing a bioterror attack from spreading on a large scale?”

  “Yes, but only if the attack was directed at a particular location, like the release of anthrax in Brussels two years ago.”

  “What if the bioterrorism incident involved multiple patient zeros?” asked Hunter.

  “That would be a worst-case scenario,” said Mac as she received a text message from Janie. It simply read strain match. “Well, as Alice once said, things just got curiouser and curiouser.”

  “How so?” asked Hunter.

  “The strains of Y. pestis are a match.”

  “What are the odds of that happening?” Hunter, who had his own theories on the interrelationship between Guatemala, Greece, Trinidad, and possibly Gabon, wanted Mac’s take.

 
“I could say one in seventeen, as there are seventeen known strains of pneumonic plague around the world, but these strains are typically compartmentalized by region. Even if I consider the strains found in Guatemala and Trinidad to be regional, the Greek patient would be considered an anomaly or something else.”

  “Trinidad?” asked Hunter, his mind racing, analyzing.

  “Yes, there have now been four reported cases in Port of Spain.”

  Hunter looked around the bar and saw that it was filling up with early evening drinkers. The noise level had increased considerably, although he had been unaware due to his captivation with Mac. He had been singularly focused on Mac and their conversation—one which had now turned into the direction of being deadly serious.

  Hunter pushed away from the table and stood, looking down into Mac’s bewildered face.

  “Did I say something wrong?” she asked.

  “No, it’s just that it’s getting a little crowded in here.”

  “Well, okay. I thought, maybe. Well, I thought that you might ask me to dinner.” Now she was hit with the awkward shyness.

  Hunter composed himself as he realized that his abrupt response could be misread. He admired Mac for a moment and then came back with his usual witty self.

  “How did I do on my reevaluation?” he asked her with a boyish grin.

  Mac smiled, apparently relieved. “Let’s just say that you’ve made the cut into round two.”

  Smiling, Hunter extended his hand to assist Mac out of her chair. “Come on, I know this place with a view and all of the Greek delicacies your heart desires.”

  Chapter 36

  Day Thirteen

  Dionysos Zonar’s Restaurant

  Athens

  Mac took in the views as the taxi made its way to the restaurant. Hunter had grown suddenly quiet while they were having drinks and remained so during their ride. She took the opportunity to text Janie about the file on the Greek patient.

  JANIE: Why don’t you just call me?

  MAC: Can’t talk right now.

  JANIE: Still at HCDCP???

  MAC: Going to dinner.

  JANIE: Alone?

  MAC: Nope, a guy I met, twice.

  JANIE: ????

  MAC: Antio Sas. T.T.F.N. Adios. Later gator!

  JANIE: What? Wait, spill!

  Mac ignored the rest of Janie’s messages and then turned off the notifications on her phone. She hadn’t been on a dinner date with a man, if that was what this was, in, well, longer than she could remember.

  After they’d met in Guatemala, it took Mac a couple of days to forget his haunting steel-blue eyes. But, as usual, she got caught up in her work and the thoughts of a relationship with a man quickly disappeared.

  Tonight was different. Hunter, as he insisted she call him rather than by his first name, Nate, seemed more vulnerable, real. He was not the same cocky DTRA operative who had lurked around the outbreak site in Guatemala. Nor was he the shady character on the cell phone at the hospital in El Naranjo. Hunter was interesting, astute and, most importantly, attentive. Not once during their conversation in the increasingly noisy bar did Hunter’s focus on her seem to wander elsewhere. He had no idea how many brownie points he earned because of that.

  Like reading a good book that drops an unexpected cliffhanger on her, she was both puzzled and intrigued by his abrupt decision to leave the bar and come to dinner. She’d hoped that he would ask her, but the circumstances seemed odd.

  The taxi driver wheeled the Mercedes wagon up the cobblestone driveway to the entrance of the Dionysos Restaurant and Zonar’s Cocktail Bar. The historic restaurant was well-known as a legendary high-end eatery serving traditional Greek as well as international dishes. The views of the Acropolis were stunning, which accounted for its frequent use in movies. Once, a political treaty between Greece and Italy was signed on the terrace overlooking the city.

  Because it was still daylight, Hunter requested a terrace table so they could enjoy the sunset and the up-lighting of the ancient landmarks dotting the Athenian landscape. After being seated, the two laughed that it didn’t seem appropriate to continue enjoying their beloved Bud in a bottle, so Hunter ordered a chardonnay from a local vineyard owned by the Antonopoulos Estate.

  “A toast to a new friendship,” said Hunter as he raised his glass to Mac.

  “Salud!” Mac giggled as she raised her glass and gently tapped Hunter’s, creating an audible tink.

  “That’s Spanish.” Hunter laughed.

  “Yeah, it’s the closest I’ve got to Greek,” she said as the waiter politely approached their table. He spent a minute introducing their specialties and then, following several questions from both guests, dinner choices were made.

  Hunter chose the braised wild boar shanks, which was served with potatoes and onions. Mac opted for the traditional moussaka, luscious layers of minced lamb and eggplant cooked in a tomato-based sauce. After the server left the table, Hunter leaned forward toward Mac.

  “Listen, I feel like I owe you an apology and an explanation,” he started.

  “I knew it! You’ve been stalking me since Guatemala!” Mac said, drawing a laugh out of them both. Mac was truly enjoying this relaxing evening in the presence of a polite, gorgeous man.

  “No, seriously. Well, kind of unknowingly, I guess.”

  This caught Mac off guard. Was he in fact trailing her activities for some reason? Her body language must’ve given away her thoughts because Hunter got right to the point.

  “Mac, I have several things to share with you. I feel like I can do so because they are not classified, but shortly after my return to Fort Belvoir, they might be.”

  Mac took a sip of wine and leaned back as one of their servers brought a basket of bread. Soft, whipped butter was offered as well. Left alone once again, Hunter continued.

  “Our meeting in Guatemala was happenstance, as I said. The DTRA has been following a terrorist lead in Central America, and when the outbreak occurred, which you were investigating, my superiors asked me to stop by and take a look.”

  “Okay,” said Mac. “I found it odd that you knew about it so quickly and, I might add, you implied that you knew I had just arrived in-country. That sounds like a little more than a casual stopover.”

  “It was,” admitted Hunter. “Prior to the outbreak, we’d received credible intel that ISIS terror cells were expanding exponentially in Central America and they might be contemplating the use of bioterror agents on American interests there. When we received word of the outbreak, it raised all kinds of red flags.”

  This made sense to Mac. She wanted to know what he was doing at the hospital, so she blurted it out. “I saw you at the hospital.”

  “I know.”

  “No, you didn’t. You never looked in my direction.”

  “Mac, I saw you in the hospital’s reception area. It’s my job to notice these things. I was reporting in to Fort Belvoir that the hospital and its staff were in over their head in El Naranjo, but I felt like you would get the situation under control. So I left.”

  Mac appreciated the vote of confidence he’d placed in her based upon their limited interaction at the hot zone. However, she sensed he had more to tell.

  “At the bar, you had quite a reaction when I brought up Trinidad. What do you know about that?”

  Hunter took a deep breath and took a sip of wine. One of the many servers roaming the terrace quickly grabbed the bottle and topped off their glasses. Hunter smiled and nodded his thanks and then continued.

  “I was part of a five-man team conducting an operation on a terrorist cell in Port of Spain. Our intelligence, which proved dead on the money, in part, told us that a bomb-making facility was started by ISIS operatives. The intel analysis showed that they would use the C-4 explosives on a cruise ship full of American tourists. We were to take out the facility, but there was a problem.”

  “I know, an explosion that killed a lot of bystanders and a terrorist,” added Mac. “One of those terrorists te
sted positive for pneumonic plague. The CDC sent me there to investigate.”

  Hunter fidgeted with his napkin and then leaned onto the table, clasping his fingers in front of him. “Mac, I saw something in that house just before the woman detonated the bomb strapped to her body.”

  “What was it?”

  “There was a room tucked away in the back of the house that appeared to be a functioning laboratory. There were microscopes, petri dishes, test tubes, syringes, you know, all the tools of your trade.”

  Mac instantly recalled the charred microscope found near the blast scene. “Now it makes sense. I know about the microscope and was puzzled as to why it would be part of a bomb-making facility. Hunter, are you sure about the lab?”

  “Yeah. I mean, it wasn’t up to CDC standards, I’m sure, but it was more than a meth house might contain. When you told me that the plague killed someone in Trinidad, then it all fit.”

  Mac tilted her head slightly. “That’s just one location though. Is there evidence of a terrorist biolab in Guatemala?”

  “Not that we know of, but there’s more. Let me tell you about my day, dear.” Hunter chuckled as he took another sip of wine. He wanted to lighten the mood somewhat, although what he was about to tell Mac could send her screaming into the night.

  “Very funny. Like an old married couple exchanging stories over a glass of wine.”

  Hunter nodded. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the explosion at the Franceville, Gabon, facility. It was in the news, but I imagine it sent some buzz through your world especially.”

  “Yes, I am. Some of my colleagues in Atlanta knew people who were killed or went missing.”

  “Did you also read about the slaughter of locals in a small town in the Congo?”

  “No, was it related?” asked Mac.