He rubbed his chin, mulling over what he was seeing. In all his years, he had never come across two scenes within minutes of one another where people were lying not only dead but unattended. It was either a strange coincidence, or more likely, the two were somehow connected. As he had done at the previous scene, he walked around the vehicles to ensure he hadn’t missed anything important. As he came around the Lincoln, he nearly stumbled over another body lying beside the rear wheel.
It was of a woman in her late thirties, dressed in an expensive-looking gray skirt and white silk blouse. The cause of her death was difficult to determine. Her face and arms were covered in large, pus-filled boils that early decomposition couldn’t hide. There was also bloody foam on her lips that looked as if she had aspirated her favorite fruit salad. Her eyes were open, and the whites were laced with a network of red streaks caused by petechial hemorrhaging. Suffocation seemed to be the probable cause of death except for the fact that, from the knee down, her right leg was completely missing. A long trail of blood led up into the woods. Animals of some sort had obviously gotten to her. Whether that happened while she was alive or dead was difficult for him to say.
Perhaps even more disturbing than her grotesque appearance was the repugnant odor that outgassed from her body. Mason knew too well the putrid stink of decaying bodies, but this was something different. It was more of a rancid smell, and it made him want to cover his nose and spit the saliva from his mouth. While he was certainly no bacteriologist, he had smelled enough curdled milk to know when something had gone bad.
He returned to his truck, walking slowly and methodically. Three people shot to death, a car crash with bodies lying unattended, and a potentially infectious disease the likes of which he had not seen before. Having been a soldier and lawman for most of his adult life, Mason considered himself hardened to death and violence. But, taken together, the bloody scenes felt surreal, as if civilization’s normal checks and balances were being tested.
He tried the two-way radio again, but the airwaves remained silent. He reached up and held his cell phone out the window with the hopes of picking up even spotty reception. Nothing. Mason shook his head in disbelief. The universe was clearly conspiring against him. He flipped on the blue light sitting on his dash, popped his truck into drive, and started down the mountain road with a newfound sense of urgency. It was time to get some help.
When Mason turned from Buckeye Road, a small rural stretch that led up to hiking trails and weekend getaways, onto Highway 321, his first thought was that there had been a huge accident. Hundreds of vehicles were scattered along the roadway, facing every possible direction, as if they had been tossed into the air as part of a colossal game of pick-up sticks. Several had crashed, or perhaps been pushed, into the deep gullies that lined the sides and center of the thoroughfare. Cars, trucks, tractor-trailers, emergency vehicles, and even a school bus were mixed into the automotive bedlam.
Mason stopped his truck and paused a moment to try to grasp what he was witnessing. It was an impossible sight, one that he found hard to accept even when seeing it with his own eyes. It was as if thousands of people had attempted to flee some supernatural evil only to be caught in its clutches on this cursed stretch of freeway. The war zones that he had experienced in Iraq held nothing over the destruction before him now.
Not a single person walked along the highway. A few cars still had their headlights glowing dimly, but, other than the occasional spinning wheel of an overturned car, nothing moved. The roadway was utterly lifeless, as if mankind had been suddenly scratched from the planet, leaving only the scars of its technology behind. Mason could only think of a single word to describe the chaos that he was seeing: Armageddon.
Not knowing what else to do, he shut off his truck and got out. His first steps were tentative as he unconsciously tested the asphalt to see if it might suddenly collapse and drop him into an invisible abyss. No such doom befell him. On the contrary, the air was calm and the scene strangely peaceful. Only the occasional creak of a settling vehicle broke the silence.
He walked slowly toward a small camper trailer that had partially overturned. The passenger door was wedged open, and the corpse of a fat man was leaning out, dangling from his seatbelt like a condemned man from the gallows’ noose. Mason circled around to the front of the camper to get a better view of the cab. Another man rested behind the steering wheel, also quite dead. Both were covered in the same blisters that he had seen on the woman lying beside the Town Car.
He checked several other vehicles, and nearly all of them contained decaying corpses with similar symptoms. Something terrible had killed these people. Most of the cars were facing away from Boone, but there were also some heading into the small town. Whatever had killed them was so widespread that they hadn’t known which direction offered salvation.
Mason made his way back to his truck and shut off the flashing blue light on the dash. He started to reach for his phone again but surrendered to the fact that it wasn’t going to work. There was only one logical explanation for why he didn’t have radio or cellular phone service. The entire area had been affected by some sort of pandemic or biochemical attack. That in turn must have led to the loss of infrastructure services. The only other possibility he could think of was that the authorities had sealed the area and intentionally cut off all forms of communication to prevent those who were contaminated from calling out for help. No one wanted those 911 calls played back for years to come.
Mason had a long list of questions that needed answering. How widespread was the pandemic or attack? What methods were being used to contain it? Was it airborne, and, if so, was he in danger? What steps could be taken to prevent infection? Had a quarantine zone been set up to prevent the spread of the illness? And if so, how could he safely exit it?
He swung the truck around and headed back the way he had come. Everything he needed to get answers was back at the cabin.
CHAPTER
5
By the time Mason arrived at the cabin, his mind was racing like a rookie trying to win his first NASCAR title. What he needed most was information. He had repeatedly tried the two-way radio and cell phone, both of which had failed him miserably. Now it was time to broaden his reach. He hurried around back and once again fired up the generator. Then he went inside and climbed a ladder to a small upstairs loft where his radio equipment was set up. He had been a licensed amateur radio operator for several years and knew from experience that, under the right conditions, one-hundred-watt broadcasts such as his could skip halfway around the world. Reaching out to those beyond the area of infection should be quite easy.
He switched on the radio and checked the power level and antenna selection. Everything was a go. He tuned to a frequency in the 20-meter band that was active during emergencies, hoping to hear traffic. When he didn’t hear any transmissions, he said, “This is KB4VXP. Is anyone listening on this frequency? I’m looking for information on the pandemic.”
He waited for a response. When none came, he repeated his call for help.
After his second transmission, a voice said, “Who is this?” The voice was that of a young woman. She wasn’t following standard Ham jargon.
Mason keyed his microphone.
“This is KB4VXP. What is your call sign, over?”
“I … I don’t know. This was my husband’s radio.” She sounded close to having an emotional breakdown.
“Okay. No problem. Take it slow. Where are you broadcasting from?”
“I’m in Ukiah.”
“Where’s Ukiah?” he asked, wondering if she was even in the States.
“Northern California. Where are you? Are you close? My son and I need help.”
Mason didn’t like what he was hearing. Surely, the pandemic or attack hadn’t reached all the way to the West Coast.
“Tell me what’s going on. I’m listening.”
“They’re dead,” she cried.
“Who’s dead?”
“Everyone’s d
ead!”
Mason took a deep breath.
“What’s your name, dear?”
There was a slight pause.
“Kathryn. Kate. I’m Kate Battens.”
“All right, Kate, I’m Mason. Relax, okay? Let’s just talk. We’ll figure this out together. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Right,” she said, her voice steadying. “We’re in trouble here. Nearly everyone around us is dead, and no one has come to help.”
“How did they die?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“The virus. Superpox-99. Only my son and I survived.”
Mason had never heard of Superpox-99, but he wasn’t going to lose his only link to the outside world by having her question his usefulness.
“How many are dead in Ukiah? In California?”
“They’re all dead. My neighbors. My husband. My co-workers. My pastor. They’re all dead,” she repeated, her voice rising again.
“Has Superpox-99 affected the major cities? Los Angeles? San Francisco?”
“I think so,” she answered. “We have no TV. No radio. No power or even water. I’m running this radio using my husband’s generator. Please, we need help desperately.”
Mason considered the implications of what she was telling him. He reminded himself that she could be wrong. People who were in disaster areas often made assumptions about things that later proved untrue. Maybe the virus wasn’t as widespread as she claimed.
Then again, maybe it was.
Before he could reply, another voice came over the radio.
“This is WA4RTF. Who is transmitting, over?”
“This is KB4VXP, Deputy Marshal Mason Raines.” Normally, he wouldn’t have identified himself as a law enforcement officer when transmitting over amateur radio, but given the circumstances, it felt right.
“It’s good to hear your voice, Marshal. I’m Jack Atkins. Any chance you can provide an update on the spread of the virus? Also, please relay your location and conditions, over.”
“I’m near Boone, North Carolina. The virus has definitely hit here. Where are you, Jack?”
Kate suddenly cut in.
“Jack, are you close to California? We need rescue. Please, my son is only eight.”
Jack took a moment before answering.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you’re nearly three thousand miles from me. I’m in Gloucester, Virginia. No way that I can reach you. Not in time anyway.”
“Listen Kate,” said Mason, “we’ll get you help. Just hang in there. Do either of you know the state of the country? Has the National Guard been deployed? What areas remain unaffected?”
Jack came back on.
“Marshal, I was hoping you could tell us that.”
When Mason didn’t answer, Jack continued. “From what I’ve been able to determine, this thing’s global. I have yet to find anyone in an unaffected area. As for the National Guard, I imagine they died right alongside everyone else. How is it you’re out of the loop on all this, Marshal?”
“I’ve been in the mountains for a few weeks and am just now seeing the damage.”
“I’d say you picked one hell of an opportune time to get away from other people.”
“Does the virus require physical contact?” Mason asked, thinking about his encounters with those lying dead on the road.
“No. It can definitely be passed through the air. Get coughed or spit on by someone infected and you’ve joined the walking dead.”
“Then why didn’t I catch it? Or my son?” asked Kate. It was clear from the trembling in her voice that she had been crying again.
“As with every virus, I suppose there are some people with a natural immunity to it. You and your son must be two of the lucky ones, if you want to call it that.”
“What about you, Jack?” asked Mason. “Are you immune too?”
“I seriously doubt it. When I saw things going downhill, my wife and I locked ourselves up tight. We haven’t left the house in over two weeks. I’ve been trolling the airwaves ever since, trying to piece things together.”
Mason nodded. Jack was someone worth knowing, a prepper who’d had enough sense and supplies to hole up and wait things out.
“What do you know about the virus? Is there a treatment? A vaccination?”
“I’m pretty sure that the initial reports over the TV and radio were government-filtered to prevent panicking,” replied Jack. “But based on what I’m hearing, it’s bad. Real bad. Until I get out, I can’t say for sure. As for an antidote or vaccination, I’m not aware of either.”
“There was an announcement by the CDC,” interjected Kate, “that they were working on a vaccine, but I never heard if they were successful. TV, radio, and the internet all shut down. My guess is there just wasn’t time.”
“Even if they don’t have a vaccine yet, you can bet that scientists are working around the clock in a sealed lab somewhere,” said Mason. “Once this thing broke out, they would have put in place emergency protocols to ensure that the nation survived.”
“I agree,” said Jack. “But it may have been too little too late. Not to sound like a doomsayer, but I think our country is all but dead.”
“Listen, both of you, I need help,” Kate pleaded. “We’re going to die if one of you doesn’t help us. Do you understand? My son and I are going to die.”
The airway remained silent for several seconds.
Mason considered his options. The best he could do was to offer some advice.
“What are your most pressing needs?”
“Water,” she replied quickly. “We’ve been forced to drink from our neighbor’s swimming pool, and it’s making us both sick.”
“Okay, that one’s easy. Start by draining your water heater. That should give you enough for a few weeks if you’re careful with it. You can use the pool water to flush your toilet, but use the water in your water heater for drinking and cooking. Do you think you can drain it?”
“I’m … I’m not sure. I think so. You hook a hose to the bottom, right?”
“That’s right,” answered Mason. “Connect a hose to the spigot at the bottom of the tank, and put the other end of the hose into a bucket. Then flip the relief valve at the top of the tank and open the spigot. Some water heaters are a little different, so you may have to play around with it. Just get you and your son some clean water to drink.”
“Okay, yes. I can do that. Thank you. Oh, thank you.”
“Do you have food?” asked Jack.
“We’re scavenging from neighbors’ houses. It’s awful. People I’ve known and loved for years are lying dead in their beds or on the floor.”
“Kate, you’re keeping your son alive,” said Mason. “That’s what’s important right now. Do whatever you need to. Take what you need from those who have passed. They’d want you to do that. Grab food, blankets, fuel, and whatever else you need. When your water heater runs out, drain your neighbors’. You should be able to survive for months by scavenging from those around you.”
“I will. But I have to be careful.”
“Why? Are you worried about catching the virus?”
“No, it’s like Jack said—my son and I must be immune or we’d have caught it from my husband.”
“What then?”
“The convicts.”
“Convicts? What convicts?”
Jack came on again.
“Marshal, when things got really bad, the president issued an executive order to release prisoners from penal institutions that could no longer be manned.”
“Why in the hell would she do that?”
“It was either that or let them die of dehydration and starvation in unattended jail cells. Tough call for anyone.”
“She released everyone?”
“No, of course not. The presidential directive only authorized the release of non-violent offenders. Murderers, rapists, and the like were to be consolidated to a few federal prisons in order to make them easier to manage.”
“That
doesn’t sound so bad.”
“It might not have been if it had worked as planned. Unfortunately, by the time the order was issued, the prisons were terribly understaffed. With the massive releases and transfers, the plan just fell apart. With over two million people incarcerated, it became impossible to control the situation. Some prisons were emptied; others were overrun by the inmates. A few were just abandoned, leaving prisoners trapped inside.”
“Do you have any idea how many convicts were released or escaped?”
“There’s no way to know, but from what’s being reported over the airways, they’re everywhere.”
Mason rubbed his temples.
“This just keeps getting better and better.”
Mason spent a good part of the day talking with Jack and Kate. When they finally signed off, everyone agreed to reconnect in two days to share anything new that may have been discovered. While there was still much that he didn’t know, Mason had learned that the origin of the virus was still a mystery. Early cases had shown up all over the world, from Russia and China, to areas across Europe and the Americas. No one yet could explain how it had spread to every corner of the globe so quickly. Given the indiscriminate infection, it was not believed to be a terrorist attack but, rather, Mother Nature flexing her muscle.
It had been reported that Superpox-99 was a modified strain of smallpox that caused similar blistering, respiratory distress, arthritis, and blindness. If left untreated, death was all but certain. Hospitals had been overwhelmed within a few days, and most had to be protected by the National Guard. The emergency medical system eventually failed, as many caregivers became sick or abandoned their posts to tend to their own families.
When the nation’s power grid failed, electricity, water, and other utilities were all subsequently lost. Television, radio, and emergency broadcasts fell silent a couple of days later as batteries and generator fuel were depleted. The loss of water and power led to mass exoduses from major cities. Highways became so gridlocked that people took to hiking out with supplies on their backs. In the end, it was unclear how many had survived. Based on what he had seen outside Boone, the number appeared to be quite small.
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