Blood Line: What if your family was the last left alive? (The Blood Line Trilogy Book 1)

by Michael Green

  A few minutes after Bruce had left the house, Jane’s brother Steven phoned from the construction company where he worked as a joiner.

  ‘The web’s down,’ he said. ‘Our suppliers have lost all our orders. I’m off to pick up some timber. There’s no way I can meet Mum and Dad at the airport. Can you give them my love? Tell them I’ll pop round and see them after work.’

  Just after nine o’clock, Jane and the children were driving towards the airport. As they turned off the motorway, six-year-old Nicole began to tease her older brother. Nicole was a tomboy with a cheeky face and cropped hair. Despite being two years older, sensitive Zach was easily bullied by his sister.

  Jane rescued her son from further torment: ‘That’s enough!’

  The airport car park was almost empty. In a major exercise by airlines and travel agents overnight, as many departing passengers as possible had been contacted and advised that all outbound flights were postponed until further notice.

  Only a few bemused-looking outbound passengers who hadn’t been contacted were milling around, together with anxious relatives waiting for incoming planes. Many were distressed to find the flights they were expecting to meet had been cancelled.

  Jane sighed with relief when she learnt her parents’ flight was the last one expected to land. With only a few minutes before it was due to arrive, she took the children up to the observation lounge on the third floor. The children stared at the huge jet carrying their grandparents as it approached and touched down.

  Jane expected the aircraft to turn towards the terminal, but instead it stopped on the other side of the airport, beside two marquees. The plane was too far away to see what was happening. ‘I wonder what’s going on?’ she murmured.

  ‘I bet Gran’s brought us some presents,’ Zach said.

  ‘Don’t you dare ask for presents.’ Jane’s agitation was showing.

  ‘Look,’ Nicole said, jumping up and down and pointing to a convoy of army vehicles that had suddenly appeared from behind the terminal buildings. While they watched, lights on the vehicles began to flash and the convoy sped up, racing towards the aircraft. At the same time, two airport security men arrived and ordered everyone to leave the observation lounge.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Jane asked apprehensively.

  ‘There’s an announcement about to be made over the public address system,’ one of them replied, clearly harassed by questions from anxious relatives. Jane led her children onto the escalator. They were part-way down when the announcement was made.

  ‘We wish to advise persons meeting passengers on Qantas flight QF826 from London and Singapore that, due to a passenger illness during the flight, all passengers will be held in quarantine. Leaflets providing contact telephone numbers, enabling information to be obtained from the relevant medical authorities, will be available shortly at the airport information desk in the arrivals hall on the ground floor.’

  ‘What about our presents?’ Zach whispered to Nicole as they stepped off the bottom of the escalator.

  When Jane and the children entered the arrivals hall, the large screen above the gate, which normally played tourist videos, suddenly switched over to the twenty-four-hour news channel. The camera showed the press studio in Wellington’s Parliament buildings with journalists milling around. At the bottom of the screen a message flashed on and off hypnotically: ‘NEWS FLASH: PRIME MINISTER TO ADDRESS THE NATION SHORTLY.’

  Jane decided to wait for the announcement rather than join the impatient crowd swarming around the information desk. Five minutes later the Prime Minister walked onto the dais and faced the cameras. The arrivals hall was now filled not only with passengers and relatives peering apprehensively at the screen but also with taxi and shuttle-bus drivers, airport workers and customs officials. Something big was happening.

  The Prime Minister, who had been in power a long time, usually appeared vibrant and confident. Today, she looked ill. But despite the apparent strain she spoke confidently, reading from the invisible teleprompter the carefully crafted announcement.

  ‘Fellow New Zealanders,’ she began, ‘many of you will by now be aware of the problems being experienced with the World Wide Web. These problems are the result of a computer virus launched by a terrorist organisation in the Middle East.

  ‘Many computer systems, including government services, transport and commercial systems, rely on facilities provided by the web. The failure of the web is therefore serious. New Zealand computer experts are working closely with others around the world to assist in the eradication of this virus.

  ‘It is also my duty to advise you that an outbreak of a new strain of the potentially lethal disease Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome — also known as SARS — has occurred, with cases reported in a number of countries around the world.

  ‘The last outbreak of SARS’, continued the Prime Minister, ‘was eradicated quickly due to the prompt actions of world health authorities. While the current strain of the SARS virus is different from the previous one, we are confident the lessons learned from the earlier epidemic will be effective in containing this latest outbreak.

  ‘Specialist centres will be opened to provide medical facilities to persons concerned about their health. The Ministry of Health is working on these arrangements now. An announcement detailing the location of these centres will be broadcast later this afternoon, and will be published in tomorrow’s newspapers.

  ‘While either of these events — the temporary failure of the web or the outbreak of SARS — would, on its own, be manageable by the normal processes of good government, I have decided that since both events have coincided it is necessary to declare a state of emergency.

  ‘I wish to stress that this is purely a precautionary measure and that there is no cause for alarm. Indeed, by declaring a state of emergency now, we will be able to take the appropriate actions to ensure the situation does not deteriorate. As you know, total honesty is the policy of my government.’

  A low murmur spread throughout the arrivals hall as general scepticism regarding the honesty of politicians was expressed. Unaware of similar sentiments no doubt being voiced throughout the country, the Prime Minister continued: ‘In order to facilitate the dissemination of information to the people of New Zealand, it has been decided that this television channel will be reserved for government use until the current state of emergency has ended.

  ‘In the spirit of open government, I also have to advise you that a flight arriving from Singapore this morning had on board a passenger with a suspected case of SARS. We have, as a precaution, decided that all passengers and crew who arrived on this aircraft will be quarantined until the danger has passed.

  ‘I also wish to advise that in view of the difficulty of operating travel services, together with the need to contain the spread of SARS, New Zealand is closing its borders with immediate effect.

  ‘While it is important that as a nation we do not underestimate the seriousness of the current situation, it is, as I indicated earlier, also important that all members of the community act responsibly and do not panic.

  ‘I wish to thank you all, in anticipation of your patience and co-operation while the state of emergency is in force.’

  Before the dazed journalists had the opportunity to gather their wits and ask questions, the Prime Minister was shepherded out of the TV studio by her entourage.

  ‘What’s wrong, Mummy?’ Nicole asked, as her mother struggled not to cry. ‘Where are Gran and Grandad? Where are our presents?’

  3

  When he had regained a measure of composure, Mark made his way back to the curtained-off area and lifted the sick flight attendant in his arms. As he reached the aircraft door, two army paramedics dressed in protective clothing hurried up the staircase towards him. One of them took the flight attendant from him and the other asked to be taken to Helen.

  Fighting to contain his emotions, Mark led the way back through the aircraft. The paramedic checked Helen’s pulse and drew back her eyeli
ds. ‘I’m very sorry,’ he said, his strained voice confirming what Mark already knew.

  They made their way to the curtained-off area where the paramedic checked the four remaining crew members. He stood shaking his head, clearly shocked despite his training.

  ‘You need to leave now,’ he said. ‘We’ll move them later.’

  Mark stood his ground. ‘I’m not leaving without my wife.’

  The paramedic hurried off the aircraft. Mark watched as he conferred with his colleagues. As two of the paramedics returned with a stretcher, the others closed the door flaps of the main marquee.

  They lifted Helen and covered her with a blanket. The paramedic then led the way into the smaller marquee and behind a metre-high screen. There was already a body lying behind the screen: the loud-mouthed lecturer.

  Mark was led to the other side of the screened-off area where he slumped on a chair, exhausted and numb, watching as the bodies of the four crew members were also brought from the aircraft and placed in an orderly row.

  He began to take in his surroundings. The marquee was well set up; it had a floor, lights, a large TV screen and a cafeteria. A number of soldiers, dressed in protective clothing and facemasks, stood around the perimeter. Even the chefs in the cafeteria were wearing protective clothing. At the other end of the marquee, a team of masked doctors were busy examining the surviving flight crew.

  Eventually the co-pilot walked over to where Mark was sitting. ‘I apologise that you were left alone,’ he said, ‘but our orders were to leave you aboard and evacuate the aircraft. We were in a state of shock. We lost some very good friends during the flight.’ Mark nodded in understanding. ‘The doctors would like to examine you as soon as you feel up to it,’ the pilot added. Mark nodded again and the co-pilot turned and hurried away to join the remainder of his crew.

  Mark wasn’t ready to see the doctors yet; he just wanted to be close to Helen. Through the marquee walls he could hear the drone of voices of the other passengers, a sound that was eventually interrupted by the raised voice of an official.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ the voice began. The murmuring died down quickly. ‘I’m Doctor Pryor. If you would take your seats I’ll give you a briefing with regard to the latest situation.’

  Mark heard the scraping of chairs on a wooden floor. When all was quiet the doctor continued.

  ‘First, I’m going to play you a recording of a broadcast made by the Prime Minister a short while ago.’

  The broadcast was played simultaneously on the screens in both marquees. In the small marquee where Mark was sitting, the aircrew, doctors, paramedics, nurses and cafeteria staff stood together in small groups to watch. Only the soldiers didn’t watch the screen; they watched everyone else.

  For a few moments after the broadcast ended, the buzz of agitated voices in the large marquee rose to a crescendo.

  ‘I’m sure you will all realise’, Doctor Pryor continued, as the noise gradually died down, ‘that the flight mentioned by the Prime Minister is the flight you have just arrived on. I have to advise you that one passenger and one member of the crew have been ill during the flight. They are currently undergoing tests in order to ascertain whether or not they are suffering from SARS.’

  Again Mark heard a crescendo of raised voices through the marquee walls. Consumed by anger, Mark jumped to his feet, ready to yell out the truth. A soldier moved forward and pointed a gun menacingly at his chest.

  ‘It’s important the passengers don’t panic,’ explained a paramedic quickly. Mark slumped back into his seat. The soldier lowered his gun and backed slowly away. Through the marquee walls, Mark heard Doctor Pryor resume.

  ‘As the Prime Minister indicated in her broadcast, New Zealand has today closed its borders. Auckland airport will be closed until further notice and, on the advice of the Ministry of Health, we have decided to set up a temporary isolation facility in the terminal building.’ Again murmurs of concern swept through the adjacent marquee.

  ‘We have a great deal of room in the terminal building, far more space than we would have in a conventional quarantine environment. All necessary facilities will be provided to ensure your stay is as comfortable as possible.’

  ‘What about medical help?’ a passenger called out.

  ‘As I speak,’ continued the doctor, ‘a military field hospital is being set up next to the terminal building.’

  ‘Where are the air crew?’ called another voice.

  ‘Due to their exposure to the sick passenger, they are being held in isolation separately.’

  The crew and Mark glanced at one another. ‘Why won’t our mobiles work?’ asked another passenger.

  ‘Mobile phones have been affected by the failure of the web.’

  An authoritative voice took over from Doctor Pryor. ‘My name is Brigadier Fotherby. I’m the civil defence co-ordinator for this area. In about an hour’s time we will be moving to the main terminal building. In the meantime, doctors will be undertaking a preliminary medical examination of all passengers.

  ‘All parents with children please move to the other end of the marquee, where doctors in the green area will see you. If you have any immediate health concerns, please move to the centre of the marquee, where the doctors in the red area will see you. Remaining passengers are to move to this end of the marquee and will be called shortly to see the doctors in the blue area.’

  Brigadier Fotherby had the bearing and authority to calm the situation. There were the sounds of chairs being pushed back as the passengers moved obediently to their designated areas.

  Mark looked directly into the eyes of the paramedic standing in front of him. ‘What’s going on?’ he demanded.

  ‘I don’t know any more than what you’ve already been told.’

  Mark sensed he was lying. ‘Look,’ he persisted, lowering his voice so the nearby soldier could not hear his words, ‘it’s clear they’re not going to let me talk to the other passengers. There’s no reason I shouldn’t know the truth. My wife has just died. I have a right to know.’

  The paramedic led Mark over towards the coffee machine, out of earshot of the soldiers. ‘During the last few hours there have been over five thousand deaths reported worldwide,’ he confided.

  ‘Is it really SARS?’

  ‘Some form of SARS. I think that for your own sake, you should go and get yourself checked out by the doctors.’

  4

  The information leaflet given to Jane provided a free number to dial. She immediately called the number from her mobile, only to be answered by a recorded message advising that more detailed information would be available later in the day.

  It occurred to her to call her father’s mobile.

  ‘The number you dialled is no longer allocated,’ advised another pre-recorded message. That didn’t make sense; at the very least she should have got through to her father’s voicemail. Anxious, she decided to phone Bruce at his work.

  ‘Oh, hello Jane,’ said the receptionist. ‘I’m afraid Bruce went home sick about an hour ago; this damn flu, half the company is off with it.’

  Jane phoned home.

  ‘I’m all right,’ Bruce insisted. ‘I’m just a bit off-colour. The computers are all down. I can’t do anything without them, so I thought I’d come home. How are your mum and dad?’

  ‘Haven’t you heard the news?’

  ‘What news?’

  ‘There’s been another SARS outbreak. Mum and Dad are in quarantine. Look, I can’t speak any more now,’ she continued as officials arrived and began herding everyone out of the terminal building. ‘I’ll be home soon.’

  As she joined the queue of traffic emptying out of the airport car park, a convoy of army vehicles and removal vans streamed towards them. The cars were forced to halt and wait until the vans had passed. Jane took the opportunity to call her brother Steven and advise him of their parents’ situation.

  ‘I’ll call round to your place after work,’ he said. ‘We’ll decide what to do then.’
<
br />   Meanwhile, Mark at last felt strong enough to see the doctor.

  ‘I’m very sorry about your wife,’ the doctor said as Mark sat down. ‘I understand she first began to suffer from flu symptoms the Wednesday after you arrived in England.’

  ‘I don’t know how you can assume that. She never said anything to me.’

  ‘According to her diary …’ continued the doctor as he lifted a small book from beneath a sheath of papers in his tray.

  ‘What are you doing with my wife’s diary?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ responded the doctor sheepishly. ‘We must find an answer quickly. This outbreak could affect everyone, your children, and your grandchildren.’ He patted the diary, indicating that he had an intimate understanding of Mark’s family. ‘I need your help.’

  Mark heard the desperation in the doctor’s voice. He instinctively switched into protection mode — anything to help Jane and Steven and the grandchildren.

  ‘You travelled to London with your wife?’ the doctor asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Were you with your wife for the few days immediately before you travelled?’

  ‘Yes … most of the time. We do … we did everything together.’

  ‘And after you got to London?’

  Mark nodded, ‘All the time.’

  ‘And your own health?’

  ‘I’m fine. I felt a bit rough soon after we arrived in London.’

  ‘What date was that?’

  Mark thought a moment. ‘It was the day we went to lunch with my brother Paul. Wednesday the sixteenth.’

  ‘That’s the day your wife began to feel ill. What were your symptoms, do you remember?’

  ‘A bit fluey, but I felt fine the next day.’

  ‘I’d like to take your temperature.’

  The doctor leaned forward and inserted an aural thermometer into Mark’s ear. ‘Remarkable!’ he exclaimed. ‘Thirty-seven degrees Celsius.’