Cough

by Druga, Jacqueline

  “And I drove here immediately.”

  Macy shook her head in confusion. “You live eighty miles away. How did you get here so fast?”

  “I flew. Then when I got pulled over, I told the state cop my son was with his mom at the Dollar Barn. Everyone know about the accident. He escorted me to town. I didn’t see you at the crash site, I thought the worst.” Rege moved back and leaned against the railing. “I can catch my breath now. I need a drink.”

  “You aren’t the only one,” Macy said. “Lila? Can I get you anything?”

  “I have whatever you guys are having. It’s been a hell of a day.”

  Macy couldn’t agree more. She opened her screen porch door and stepped inside of her home. Even though she was someone who never drank when the sun was up, Macy needed that drink. She doubted, however, that even the alcohol was going to help.

  <><><><>

  It was the worst call of his career, and if Stokes was right, that didn’t matter. His career ended with the release of the virus.

  Before he made the call, he watched them airlift Charles. He didn’t get a chance to check on him. But he was there when they pulled Emir from the car. His body was mangled and crushed. Stokes was surprised Emir survived long enough to speak.

  The call had to be made. As much as he hated to do so, he called headquarters.

  “Suspects were in a major car accident,” Stokes reported. “The driver Emir Najjar was killed, the other hospitalized in critical condition. The virus … well, it ejected somewhere between Fourth Street and the Dollar Barn window.”

  “Any of the vials intact.”

  “They were smashed.”

  “Did you secure it?”

  Without telling him he was inoculated, Stokes did tell them he was able to place the sack in a garbage bag. He didn’t know how secure that would be, but the bag was hidden.

  “What about the antidote?”

  “Secure.”

  He was told Homeland would be by in the morning to inconspicuously gather everything. Stokes was to meet them twenty miles south at an isolated designation.

  “What now?” Stokes asked them.

  “You stay put. You’re on duty there to watch and see if anything happens.”

  “In other words if the virus was released, I’m a dead man anyhow, misery loves company.”

  His captain pretty much confirmed those thoughts. Until he got rid of the bag and the antidote, Stokes couldn’t stay anywhere in town. Not that there wasn’t a place to stay, he didn’t bother asking. Not yet.

  For the evening, he would settle in at a place called Shotsy’s, located two blocks from the crash site. They advertised it was burger night. He expected business to be slow, it wasn’t. The place was crowded. After using the rest room to clean up a little, he sat at the bar enjoyed his burger and beer while watching the news. The bartender chick wasn’t friendly, perhaps because she didn’t know him. To her he was one of the many strangers who instantly descended on the town in the media blitz that ensued after the accident.

  It was all over the news. Aerial shots, interviews with people. They tried to talk to him, but he refused.

  It didn’t take long for Stokes to finish his burger, he was really hungry despite the events of the day. He wiped his hand, pushed the plate forward and finished his beer.

  “Another?” the bartender asked.

  “Yes, please.”

  She set down a fresh beer at the same time he felt a new person wedge in the spot next to him. He recognized the voice.

  “Hey, Bess, give me a beer, please, thanks.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Figures he gets a nice treatment, Stokes thought.

  Chief Wells grunted as he sat down, he was such a big guy, he looked like he was standing. “Hell of a day,” he said. “Thanks, Bess.” He took his beer.

  “Hell of a day,” Stokes said. He face forward, but looked at the chief. He wasn’t much older than Stokes, bald … but Stokes figured that was by choice and he shaved his head. More because of vanity and premature baldness. It wasn’t to display the half circle scar just above the Chief’s right ear. Or maybe it was.

  “Thanks for all your help today.” Wells said.

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You did a lot of dirty work. You pulled a lot of body ….parts. Thanks. Thanks. I know these people, I knew each one.”

  “Yeah, I figured.”

  “Speaking of knowing. Lots of people in town I don’t know.”

  “I do. I know him …” Stokes pointed. “From Fox.”

  Wells chuckled. “Not what I meant. Never do we have strangers in this town. If we do, they are passing through lost or something. People here … they work at the chip factory, Bryce farms or around town. No one new. It’s a rarity. These people came because of the accident. You were here before. Are you hanging around because you like us or because you’re still shell shocked over the accident?”

  Stokes exhaled heavily, set down his beer, started to reach for his back pocket and stopped. He raised his hands to show Wells his palms. “I’m just grabbing something from my pocket.”

  “I didn’t think you were going for a gun.”

  “Just being courteous.” Stokes laid his open wallet on the table.

  Chief Wells looked down to it. “Well … tell me. What’s a federal agent doing in our small town?”

  “You can say I’m expecting something big.”

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Wells said.

  “It’s not.” Stokes shook his head. ‘Is there somewhere we can talk?”

  Wells twitched his head as a direction and stood. “Follow me. Grab your beer.”

  “Is that legal.”

  “It’s my town.” Wells grabbed his bottle and led the way out.

  <><><><>

  Las Vegas, NV

  June 26

  The steady beeping seeped its way into his dream.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  “You’re seatbelt isn’t on,” Emir said in the dream.

  “Yes, it is,” Charles replied.

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  “No, it can’t be. The warning light is on.”

  “Oh, my bad.” Charles looked down. “It isn’t.”

  In the dream he saw it. Looking at Emir he saw the tractor trailer barreling his way,

  The scary sight and jolt in his dream caused him to wake up.

  The beeping increased in speed. Charles shifted his eyes. He was in a hospital. Slightly tilted up, Charles had a hard time seeing anything. His body felt three times its weight and he could barely move. He didn’t feel any pain but he was able to see the intravenous lines running into his arm. He was confused but for only a second, the dream along with the reality hit him. He was in a horrible accident. He remembered the impact, the car turning and his body feeling like it folded as it slammed into something. After that, nothing.

  Then another realization hit him.

  EC175 was in that vehicle with them.

  Charles panicked.

  The beeping machine sounded off an alarm and a woman in blue scrubs entered the room in a rush.

  She leaned over him. “Dr. Kimble? You’re awake. I need you to calm down. Okay. Calm down.”

  Charles shifted his eyes back and forth.

  “You were in an accident. Do you remember that?”

  He tried to speak, but there was a tube or something taped to his mouth. He could feel it pressed inside his lips. So he did his best to nod.

  “You are one lucky man,” she said. “You’re lucky to be alive. But your body needs to rest. Dr. Kimble.”

  I can’t rest! He wanted to shout. The virus is out there.

  She turned her head for a second and reached out. The she looked back down to him. ‘I’m gonna give you something to keep you calm. It will relax you and make you sleep.”

  Charles shook his head. He didn’t want to sleep.

  She wasn’t listening or paying attention. From the tops of his eyes he watche
d her inject something into his intravenous. He felt the medication the second it entered his blood stream. With it came a warm sensation then a calming one and finally rational thoughts. The woman wasn’t wearing biohazard gear. It was known to authorities he and Emir had the virus. It must have been intact and fine. Surely if it wasn’t, he would have been in some sort of quarantine.

  With those thoughts, Charles felt at ease.

  The heart rate monitor slowed down. The medication started to work. His eyes grew heavy and Charles without control, fell back to sleep.

  <><><><>

  Littlefield, AZ

  June 26

  Chief Wells exhaled as he sat down in his chair and placed his empty beer bottle on his desk. “How long do we have?”

  Stokes looked at his watch. “Sixty-five hours.”

  “You sound as if it strikes on the minute.”

  “Pretty much close to it.”

  “No cure?”

  “No cure.”

  Another exhale and Wells ran his hand over his head. “Here’s what I don’t get. Why didn’t they send a biohazard team in here? If the feds knew, you knew, why is this a secret?”

  “Two reasons,” Stokes replied. “They either don’t think anything will happen or if the virus did get out, nothing they can do.”

  “What do you think?”

  “It got out.”

  Wells lowered his head.

  “Another reason could be … this was an accident, but there’s a chance the virus was deliberately released elsewhere.”

  “Jesus.” Wells stood up. “I need another beer. So what happens?”

  “If it hits. You’ll get your first wave of sick. All those exposed at the accident. They’ll go down pretty quick. Over ninety percent of them will die in minutes. Those who get infected from them, seventy-two hours we’ll see another outbreak. This one is less dramatic, people live two days maybe less. It’ll keep going until burns through every single person who can get sick. There will be some who just won’t get it. The outbreak in the Congo … several never got sick.”

  “I’m torn between letting people know and just … keeping my mouth shut.”

  “Telling them is chancing they’ll leave,” Stokes said. “If they leave and they are infected, they’ll spread it. The best bet is to try to contain it here. That’s just my thought.”

  “What do the Feds plan on doing? CDC? WHO?”

  “Tomorrow they’ll come in here to collect the remains of the sack, and the antidote and I’m supposed to stay in town to keep watch. They’ll probably roll in with a quarantine when the outbreak happens.”

  “Will that work?” Wells asked.

  “Probably not,” Stokes said. “It’s pretty much out of control with the first cough.”

  “You said … you said antidote.”

  “Yeah, there’s an antidote that also serves as a vaccine. But only if given before exposure or within twelve hours. There was a small case of it and the driver of the SUV had an injector syringe with a vial.”

  Wells nodded. “How much do you have?”

  “Ten vials, hundred doses, plus data so they can create it. They didn’t know about the driver’s injector. I didn’t tell them.”

  “Why?”

  “I … hit a few people with the antidote while we were moving them. I saw the injector gun, the vial, I panicked, knew people were exposed and I just used the remaining doses on whoever I could.”

  Wells nodded. “Do … do they know how much you have?”

  “No.”

  “So they know you have something and the data.” Wells rubbed his chin. “Could you say ... give them one vial and the data?”

  “Why?”

  “Ninety doses isn’t much, but it’s ninety people we can save. You said within twelve hours?” Wells checked out the time. “That leaves us a little under five to get the antidote delivered or as much as we can.”

  “There were a lot of people in that area. How do you decide?” Stokes asked.

  “How did you decide?”

  “I was random.”

  “Well we can’t be random. We have to think about this town and hit those who were exposed and are gonna be needed when the shit goes down. Essential services.”

  “Good thinking, But here’s another problem,” Stokes said. “How are you going to keep the virus a secret while inoculating people at nine at night?”

  Wells projected confidence. “Leave that to me.”

  <><><><>

  Len Hendrix looked exhausted and surprised when he opened his front door at nine o’clock at night. “Chief Wells? Everything all right?”

  “Hey there, Len, sorry to bother you. You know Doctor Harmon don’t you?” Wells indicted to the gentlemen with him.

  “Yeah, hey, Doc.”

  “Len you were at the accident today, right?” Wells asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Well, and this is hush-hush, apparently those guys in the accident were with the Health Department and they were carrying a sample of the measles. Now, we think it was all right, but just to be sure, we’re hitting essential services with the measles vaccines.”

  Len nervously laughed. “You’re joking, right?”

  No reply.

  “Well, no worries. I had my measles shot.”

  Dr. Harmon spoke up. “We checked your records, Len, you’re out of date.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. And if you’re not, it doesn’t hurt to double up. Can you hold out your arm for me?” Dr. Harmon requested.

  Nervously, Len stepped on to the porch and rolled up the right sleeve of his tee shirt.

  Dr. Harmon pulled out the air injector gun, placed it to his flesh and pulled the trigger. “Thank you. Have a good night.”

  As mysteriously as they appeared, they left. Len watched Chief Wells and Dr. Harmon, turn around and without saying another word walked away. Len stood there for a moment rubbing his arm, watching as the two men headed down the road.

  After thinking, ‘that was really odd’, Len shrugged it off and went back inside.

  SEVENTEEN – CODE FOUR

  Las Vegas, NV

  June 28 - Evening

  Authorities are still trying to determine the cause of the accident that claimed nine lives and injured forty-two in the border town of Littlefield Arizona. It is suspected the driver was under the influence …

  Click. Switch. More news.

  ‘At this time they are saying as many as thirty cases were brought in with severe flu symptoms,” the reporter stood with a microphone in hand. “There is speculation of a biological attack, but officials are stating that is far from the truth. There is nothing to be concerned about at this time and …’

  Click.

  Sharon set down the remote.

  She wanted to catch up on what was going on in the world, but she simply didn’t have the time. She needed a coffee and would grab a Starbucks before getting a taxi. The late checkout afforded her time to get a nap, which in turn threw her even more behind. Plus, it was the first time in ages she had to check her luggage. Sharon was always a carry own woman, but the extended vacation caused her to have more bags.

  She felt so much better and worried she’d still be ill when she returned to work, but when woke in the morning, she was a new person. Sharon even ventured down to the casino and played some slot machines.

  But she had to hurry, especially if she wanted to get that coffee.

  Gathering her items, her purse tipped and the contents rolled on to the bed. The two bronchial inhalers clanked against each other, Sharon debated on tossing them in her checked luggage but opted against it. She did feel better, but on the outside chance she relapsed, she wanted to have them handy. After shoving them back in her purse, Sharon grabbed the rest of her belongings and lugged them out of the hotel room.

  She had a flight to catch and a coffee to get first.

  <><><><>

  Wally hated being early for his shift. He didn’t mind being on ti
me, but early... he hated it. He wasn’t crazy about his job as a security monitor at the casino, but it paid the bills and had decent health benefits. Plus, they gave him a free meal.

  The free meal was never enough. Wally was a healthy build man in his twenties with an appetite of a football team. That was why he also packed a lunch. One he could eat while doing his job.

  He knew he was going to be early for his shift, his clock was wrong and he didn’t discover the twenty minute difference until he go into his car. He even stopped at the local gas station for a slushy.

  Still he was early.

  After saying hello to the guys at the security desk, Wally made his way up to the third floor. He punched in, signed out a radio, tested it and headed to the back room.

  “Jesus,” he said, punching in his code to get in. “Seven minutes early.”

  At least he was working with John. John was funny. He made the nightshift go fast and did crazy voices to match up what they saw on the monitors.

  “Dude, you’re early,” John said.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Totally missed sex in elevator two, tower two.”

  “No way.” Wally pulled out a chair. “I never see anything good.”

  “Chick is puking in the trash can by the front doors.” He pointed. “Monitor three.”

  “Oh man, that’s disgusting. She would be hot, but hot chicks puking are just gross.”

  “Ever notice they all wear tight skirts and really high heels. As if that’s the required outfit to blow chunks in Vegas.”

  “Let’s call the floor, have them get her.”

  John picked up his radio. “Oh, too late, they’re on it.”

  Wally glanced up to the monitor, security had made their way to the vomiting girl. He sat back in the chair and placed his lunch sack on the counter.

  “What did you bring?”

  “Ham sandwich.”

  “They have Grilled chicken on the employee menu tonight.”

  “I’ll eat both,” said Wally. His eyes were on the wall of monitors. There were twenty of them. He was pretty good at his job, he never missed a trick. He earned a gift card when he spotted a man stealing a woman’s wallet from her purse.