The Plague Years (Book 1): Hell is Empty and All the Devils Are Here

by Rounds, Mark

  “Right, now about The Hobbit, will you show me the pictures as you read it?”

  May 15th, Friday, 01:33 pm PDT

  Chris had arrived a little after 1:00 for his 1:30 meeting To tell the truth, he had cabin fever. He made his way to the locker room area and found four of his colleagues crouching over the screen of an iPad.

  “Hey guy,” said Chris casually, “Mariners lose again?”

  Worse than that,” said Billy Thornton, a four year veteran of the force. “They are canceling the rest of the season due to the ‘Zombie Plague’. This is getting out of hand!”

  Chris was about to reply when Lieutenant Mills poked his head into the locker room and gestured for Chris to follow him.

  “Chris,” said Lieutenant Mills after hustling him into his office and closing the door, “we have a problem.”

  “So you said on the phone.”

  “It’s worse than that I am afraid. The city and the Department of Health are taking over Richland High School even as we speak. The hospital is full to overflowing. They need space to hold and treat the infected. Right now they have a bunch of contractors putting in ‘restraining frames’ and beds into the classrooms and the Gym.”

  “What is a restraining frame?” asked Chris.

  “These are pretty basic I am afraid, it’s a cot or a bed with a 4x4 frame around it. The infected, those that are delusional, are tied to the frame. It is close enough that care givers can still get around and do their job, but it keeps the patients from hurting anyone.”

  “OK, I see the need I suppose, but where do I fit in?” asked Chris warily.

  “You have experience with the infected.”

  “If you count ten minutes that ended in a shooting then yeah, but what does that have to do with it?”

  “It’s more than most right now. Anyway, they are going to break away from these restraints, or talk their way out, some of the infected have periods where they are quite lucid. I want you and frankly anyone one I can spare to do security.”

  “Shouldn’t the local PD or the National Guard or the Army …”

  “Hold your horses Chris,” said Mills raising his hands. “I said the same things but the National Guard was not activated today. Homeland Security is afraid it will panic people. I will be asking again tomorrow.

  “The local cops have had more shooting incidents than we have. We are frankly scraping the bottom of the barrel. I can give you a mish mash of local cops, a couple sheriff deputies, and another WSP to do this job and that is all. I am asking around from the recently retired guys but they are staying close to home and frankly, I don’t blame them. You’re in charge. I’ll start you with eight officers but I’ll probably have to take one or two before the week is out. Hopefully, by then, we will have the National Guard or the Army to take over.”

  “So what do I do exactly?” asked Chris.

  “You and your crew will be there 24/7. If anyone breaks out from their restraints, you will contain them.”

  “Sir, with respect, I don’t want try to wrestle them back into bed,” Said Chris.

  “I didn’t say restrain, I said contain. You will have full protective gear but let me make this very plain; I can’t afford to lose a single officer, not one. Things are going to get much worse before they get better and we will likely be ‘overtasked’ to keep the peace. So patrol in pairs. Keep your radios on. Carry shotguns and do not hesitate to use them. Am I clear?”

  “We are to shoot them just for breaking out of bed?”

  “Chris, Tasers don’t work very well. We have had two local cops bitten trying to restrain violent infected. You stay safe and shoot first. We will back you up. I have assurances from the Mayor and the DA that they will support this as long as it doesn’t get out of hand. We will still review all shootings, but it will take hours not days.”

  “Shit!” exclaimed Chris. “Sorry sir.”

  “I said worse when I got the tasking. I am glad in a way that you are the one we are sending. I need your cool head. This is probably the worst job I can think of and I need someone who will do the right thing and keep the peace.

  “I have some more bad news for you though?”

  “Are you going to keep me after school for cursing?”

  “Hardly,” said Mills with a weary chuckle. “You have been getting pretty close to Deputy Hoskins I hear.”

  “The only thing faster than the speed of light is a rumor on the grapevine, but sir, we are just friends, I just read to her and we talk …”

  “It’s OK Chris. She is a fine officer and we all need friends. But, I am sorry son, I don’t know any easy way to say this. She is going to be sent over to the high school.”

  “But she is fine, the doctor told me …”

  “Everyone with fluid exchange is being isolated. We have enough pull that she will be well cared for but, well, I thought you ought to know.”

  May 16th, Saturday, 11:21am PDT

  Chad was leaving yet another staff meeting where he had to present his findings. Each time, the basic theme was the same, restrict travel, quarantine those infected, and aggressively patrol the back roads. The only changes were the assumptions he had made were being knocked down one by one with hard facts, usually less optimistic than the assumption they replaced. Each time, Special Agent Macklin from Homeland Security pounded on the details and took personal delight in finding even the smallest flaw.

  The scientific staff was mostly behind Chad but the elected officials he had been meeting with today including the Governor and a couple of state legislators were swayed by the fact that if they called out the National Guard before the feds declared a state of emergency, the state would have to pay for it.

  The representative from the local police forces screamed at that one because they didn’t have enough manpower to even patrol the main roads, but the threat of cutting federal funds worked for today at least. They modified the current plan a bit to make the travel restriction mandatory instead of suggested and empowered the police to cite and if necessary restrain folks from travel, so there had been some progress but the spread rate was not slowing appreciably.

  Macklin appeared to take a perverse pride in stomping any initiatives. Chad knew that this wasn’t the only place these issues were being discussed as there was a pretty active research net online trying to get traction on these issues but most of the scientists involved were very frustrated with the snail’s pace at which the government was moving to combat this disaster.

  The meeting from hell was followed with an interview for the TV local news and his prediction, at Dr. Jurgen’s request, had been truthful and rather dire. Sheets containing the work Dr. Grieb had been doing about infection control were passed out and attributed erroneously to Chad.

  _______________________________________________________

  CDC -- Center for Disease Control and Prevention

  By Dr. Terrance Grieb

  _______________________________________________________

  The AH10N3 commonly known as the ‘Zombie Plague’ has generated a lot of misinformation. These talking points should help clarify what know about the disease and what to do to prevent its spread.

  This disease does not “reanimate” people who are already deceased. Every sufferer of this disease is a live human being worthy of compassion.

  Symptoms.

  Dementia

  Reduction of liver function

  Ravenous hunger.

  There is also buildup in heme in the patient’s system. Heme is the iron bearing component of hemoglobin, resulted in a condition resembling Cutaneous Porphyria, where the patient is sensitive to light, developed skin lesions, and other tissue degeneration.

  Sufferers appear to be able to handle inordinate amounts of pain and tissue damage.

  There is no known cure and the disease appears to be 100% fatal.

  There are two transfer vectors. The first is fluids exchange. Like HIV, this disease is transferred best with the exchange of fluids. Safe se
x protocols are very useful in controlling this disease.

  Biting is another vector for this disease. Late stage sufferers tend to hallucinate and try to bite care givers and other people in the near vicinity. Please take precautions to avoid being near unrestrained late stage sufferers.

  Unlike HIV, the pathogen does not expire with contact to the air. Sites that have been in contact with fluid containing the pathogen can remain infectious for days after exposure.

  Be sure and disinfect all sites where contamination is suspected.

  Tasers appear to have little effect on late stage sufferers but sedatives or narcotics do seem to calm them down.

  If infected individuals are encountered, please do not try and talk to or reason with them. They can often appear very lucid until you get close enough for them to attempt to bite you.

  Contact authorities at once if you suspect you or someone you know is afflicted with the disease.

  Quarantine seems to be the best way to avoid the disease. Please reduce travel and public exposure to the minimum required.

  Don’t speak to people unknown to you or those behaving in an irrational manner and report them as soon as you can.

  Stay calm and do not panic.

  _______________________________________________________

  They had also taken to calling him the ‘Dead Head’ after the shirt he had worn in his first interview and his association with the ‘Zombie Plague.’ He knew his wife wasn’t amused.

  Chad was exhausted but there was something he knew he had to do. After entering his office and locking the door, he pulled out his cell phone and called is brother.

  “Hey Bob,” said Chad, trying to sound casual, but even he knew he had failed.

  “Hey Chad, why do I think this isn’t about my birthday that’s in two weeks?”

  Chad and Bob were ten years apart in age, Bob was older and some said brighter. He and Chad were not close, when Bob was interested in girls and cars, Chad was playing with blocks, but they remained in contact. Bob’s divorce had sent him into a depression and for a while, he spoke to almost no one save what was needed in his position at the University of Idaho in Moscow where he taught and did research in Bio-Informatics. Lately, he had been being more interested in life but he was still prickly and easy to anger.

  “Well,” said Chad, who was not sure how to start, “have you been following the news?”

  “You mean where my idiot brother spoke on national TV in a ‘Grateful Dead’ shirt? Talking about the spread of the pathogen that the news folks are calling the ‘Zombie Plague?’ No, why do you ask?”

  “Bob, can we be serious for a bit?”

  “I will hold my renowned wit in check for a moment. What’s on your mind?”

  “Look, we haven’t been all that close but times are becoming uncertain. Crap, what I am trying to say is that if things go bad, well, what I mean to say is some friends and I are making some plans; you are the only family I have since mom died. I just thought …”

  “I am really touched,” said Bob, “so much so that I will forego my normal snappy rejoinder. I actually listened to what you and others had said on the subject as well and all the chatter on the web. Several faculty members, myself, and a group of grad students have also begun some preparations. I was going to make the same offer to you. Moscow is off the main transport grid, limited air travel, only the occasional freight train and no interstate highways. We are in pretty good shape.”

  Chad thought that over for a moment before responding. His points all made sense but he wasn’t ready to tear up and leave and anyway with the new restrictions, he wasn’t sure he could.

  “Bob, how about if I take a rain check? I don’t know how bad it’s going to get but I think I can ride it out here; but let’s stay in touch. If you have to run, you are welcome here.”

  “Same goes for you, brother,” said Bob with more than a little emotion in his voice. “Mother would never believe this conversation, but perhaps I am wrong. Don’t forget to call me on my birthday and gloat on the fact that I am ten years closer to retirement than you are.”

  May 18th, Monday, 12:02 pm PDT

  Special Agent Macklin’s second phone buzzed silently as he sat in his loaned office. He hesitated a moment before answering it. The day hadn’t gone well. Strickland had made him look foolish more than once in the last meeting and as a result local travel restrictions were now mandatory. There were other jurisdictions in the country where that was happening but it was not complete by any means.

  Then there was the damned news conference that he was powerless to stop. Again, Strickland had used his geek charm and his techno babble to make things sound worse than they really were.

  His superiors in Washington DC were also beginning to overreact. Resources were already beginning to be staged and there was talk of a national state of emergency.

  He glanced at the phone in irritation. The number was masked but he knew who it was. He wanted to disconnect but his inner voice cautioned him about his ‘other’ arrangement.

  “Macklin.”

  “Strickland is becoming a nuisance,” said a familiar voice. “You will need to neutralize him. He is having more impact than we calculated.”

  “I can’t have you calling me here,” said Macklin with a rising note of panic in his voice.

  “We will call you where, and when we please.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “There are enclaves springing up all around the country where the infection has not taken hold and local authorities are being swayed by these newscasts and Strickland has become the new darling on the web.”

  “Strickland isn’t the only one out there you know.”

  “No, and we have plans in place to neutralize them too. You aren’t the only card in our deck and who we play is up to us. Do not fail us”

  The line went dead before Macklin could frame and answer. With shaking hands, he punched another number.

  Chapter 8

  May 18th, Monday, 8:46 pm PDT

  Chad was headed home. His day had not gone well. It started out with Macklin coming into his office right after the most recent interview, pounding his desk, and said that he was personally undermining the security of the nation. If it hadn’t been so serious, Chad would have laughed. He wasn’t the only one making dire predictions but because of that stupid T-shirt he had more than his share of notoriety. Still he was shaken so he had put on his shoulder carry rig for the Colt New Agent .45 that Dave had loaned him and loaded the pistol.

  Herb Burnside, the security chief for the complex they were in had let it be known that anyone caught carrying a gun would be punished and then also said that the metal detector on the west set of doors was malfunctioning, so please avoid those doors. He was not subtle, but Herb was a good man.

  The windbreaker he had carried in this morning completely covered the gun but he felt a little guilty going out the west side door even though it would have been marginally closer to walk to his car from the north side doors. He was surprised to see Herb at the west side doors when he got there, but all Herb did was take his pass card and open the door for Chad.

  “Working late Dr. Strickland?” asked Herb as he held the door for Chad.

  “Yeah, I had another interview with the news folks,” said Chad nervously. He didn’t normally carry a firearm so it felt like it was four feet across and weighed ten pounds.

  “I heard about that. These doors are normally restricted but I supervise them personally from 6:00 pm on. But do keep that coat buttoned, it’s a little chilly out there tonight.”

  Chad grabbed his zipper on his jacket and yanked it all the way up.

  “Sure, thanks.”

  “Listen son, you clearly haven’t much experience carrying concealed so let me give you a piece of advice, relax. People will spot your jitters long before they spot a suspicious bulge in your jacket.”

  Chad nodded and fled out the door. He wandered around the lot until he found his Camaro. Not that it was h
ard because it was late and there weren’t that many bright yellow 1968 SS Camaros in the lot. He had taken to driving it to work because, as long as he could still get premium to fill the tank, it would get him home faster than anything he owned or could reasonably acquire if things got bad.

  Besides that, he loved the old car and kept it in pristine condition. Using it as a daily driver bothered him a bit as there was still some salt left on the roads from the winter but he resolved to wash it the next time he was near a brushless wash.

  Chad fired up the engine and the high compression L34 396 cubic inch V8 engine turned over almost immediately. The ‘Beast’ as his wife called it had brutal acceleration between zero and a hundred miles an hour but was fun to drive and provided more than a bit of boost to his middle aged ego.

  He pulled out of the parking lot and started home. As he pulled out onto Stevens Drive headed south, he noted that a rusty red mustang had pulled in behind him. It looked familiar but he couldn’t quite place it.

  Then his rear window was shattered by a fusillade of gunfire and he instinctively ducked low behind the wheel. Three rounds carried through and penetrated his front windscreen leaving a spider web of cracks that partially obscured his vision. Now he knew why the Mustang reminded him of something. Clinton Taylor’s description of the car used in his drive by shooting matched this Mustang exactly.

  He mashed the throttle to the floor and momentarily lost traction as the torque generated by the big block Chevy engine broke the rear wheels loose. Luckily, the street was cool and as he backed off a little on the throttle, he was rewarded by a rush of g forces pushing him pack into his bucket seat. Before he could blink, he was doing eighty miles an hour down Jefferson Street still accelerating and on the ragged edge of control.