by Sean Kidd
“Come on! Shoot him!” Chevy yelled breaking my mind from its trance. My thoughts returned to the Xbox blasting through the surround-sound system and Chevy bouncing up and down on the couch screaming, “Die! Die! Die!” as body parts exploded on the screen in front of me. Chevy was transfixed on the TV, not even realizing I was out of the game. I couldn’t sit here and wait any longer. I reached over to the 1920s antique end table with the broken leg that Chevy and I had paid two bucks for just a month earlier, for no other reason than to have a place to put the remote. I latched onto the remote and clicked the TV off.
“Dude, what the fuck! Are you kidding me?” Chevy’s eyes disengaged from being locked on the TV screen, and he snapped at me. “Why did you do that, I was kicking ass?” he said giving me a look like I had just pissed in his Cheerios.
“I can’t stand it anymore, Chev. I’ve got to go find them.” Chevy gave me a slap on the shoulder and said, “Buddy, you’re really overreacting. I’m telling you, they’re fine.”
I took a second to think about it while Chevy continued trying to calm my nerves. Maybe I was being ridiculous. I mean they were grown adults for god’s sake, and my dad was a cop and carried a bad-ass gun even when he wasn’t working. I was their kid, and it wasn’t my responsibility to worry about my parents…. was it?
“I guess you’re right Chev. I’m just a little weirded out about this whole Ebola thing and my trip to the store this afternoon. And what was that horrible smell outside?” I decided to put my worries to bed and wait for their call tomorrow. I threw the remote to Chevy so he could get back to doing what he did best. Chevy gave me a reassuring smack on the shoulder and said, “I’ll put some news on for a few minutes, maybe it will make you feel better when you see that the world is fine. I have to go pee anyway.” Chevy turned off the Xbox and pointed the remote at the TV changing the input. The screen snapped to life, and we were both startled by a high pitch whining coming through the surround sound speakers. As the color came to life on the LED, I was looking at a rainbow of vertical color bars covering the full-spectrum, white to purple. On the bottom of the screen, written on the color bars, were three words in black bold letters that made my heart drop into my stomach when I saw them.
OFF THE AIR!
I pushed on Chevy’s arm attempting to make him move faster as he cycled through the channels. Every channel displayed, off the air bars or just static. My heart had now left my stomach and returned to my chest, where it felt like it was going to explode. Chevy broke his trance from the TV and turned to me like he had just seen a ghost, “Ty, we’ve gotta find your parents!”
CHAPTER 11
October 4th 12:25am
An hour after Bob opened the first box of ZMapp, the team was finishing giving out the last doses.
Dr. Marcil and Sophie accomplished an amazing feat by making the serum soluble, making it as easy as squirting a syringe full of liquid into the patient's mouths. The team of doctors began to congregate in the small nurses’ station by the row of windows. Bob was the last to join the group, he sat down in the larger nurses’ chair working his oxygen line around the arm rest, as to not jeopardize his life if he was forced to make a speedy evacuation from the chair.
Bob looked at the other doctors, giving them a great job nod, and expressing his exhaustion from the long day that would soon be over, “Did everyone complete the dosing on all the patients in your zones?” The doctors simultaneously nodded and said, “Yes.”
“How long until we’ll start seeing some results, Dr. Marcil?” Bob said as he fondled his oxygen line.
“Well, depending on the viruses’ state of aggression, patient age, and overall health before exposure, I’d estimate 12 to 24 hours.”
“That’s wonderful, Doctor!” Bob cheered, as he rose from his chair, reaching to shake Dr. Marcil’s hand, making sure not to catch his oxygen line on the chair’s arm rest. While Bob was in mid shake, an announcement came across the PA system above their heads. “Colonel Aiken, you have a call on the Sat-phone.”
“Excuse me.” Bob said as he turned and headed toward the elevators. Bob stepped into the elevator, pressed one, and leaned against the back wall in time to see the doors slide closed. He closed his eyes for a moment, and realized this was the first time he had been alone in the last 24 hours. Through the plastic suit hood, Bob heard the faint rhythm of the acoustical version of Tie a Yellow Ribbon around an Old Oak Tree. He thought to himself, maybe we will beat this thing Tony. Just maybe.
The elevator door opened, and Bob was again met by a soldier slinging an M4 rifle over his protective suit. “This way, Sir.” Bob followed the soldier to the main lobby of the hospital and through the glass doors passing the Sergeant and his makeshift office. The soldier turned and headed straight towards a Humvee that was parked next to a state of the art V-22 Osprey. Bob hadn’t had the pleasure of flying in one yet, but he knew when this thing was over, it would be on the top of his list. They reached the Humvee. The driver’s side door opened and out stepped another rifle slinging Sergeant holding a Sat-phone up to Bob, “General Strong, Sir!”
“Thank you, Sergeant” Bob said as he lifted the phone to his ear trying to find it through the bio suit.
“Hello General.”
“Bob, what’s the status of the P.A. Site?” the General asked.
“Sir, we’ve just finished administering the serum. Dr. Marcil tells me we should start seeing results in 12-24 hours.”
“That’s excellent!” the General exclaimed. Bob could hear him teething his pipe as he spoke. “We have been in contact with Dr. Marcil’s staff, and they’ve supplied us with enough ZMapp to guarantee that every American citizen has a chance of beating this thing. We’ve had flights in and out of Montréal all day. Every military base foreign and domestic should have the ZMapp within the next six hours, with instructions to start dosing all drinking reservoirs, water filtration plants, and storage tanks two hours after. By this time tomorrow, every civilian should be protected against this terrible affliction.”
Bob watched the suited soldiers walking around the hospital grounds, as he played out possible scenarios in his head, “General, don’t you think we should make sure the serum works here first?”
There was a slight pause on the other end of the secure Sat-phone, “Now Bob, I understand your concern, but we need to get the jump on this bug. Dr. Marcil’s staff in Montréal have assured me that this serum will work. Now I have to go with my gut on this thing and its telling me this is our best option.”
Bob was too tired to debate and asking the General to hold off for 24 hours would be useless anyway. It was easier to respond with an automatic, “Yes, Sir.” The line went dead.
He handed the phone back to the sergeant and began making his way back towards the Ebola floor. As Bob rode up in the elevator listening to the wordless music coming from the speaker above his head, he couldn’t help but think that maybe Gordon Lightfoot had it right and this Ebola outbreak was Bob’s Edmund Fitzgerald.
The doors opened and Bob made his way to Dr. Marcil, who was still standing in the window laden nurses station. He worked his way through the patients and for the first time, felt a sense of uneasiness. Bob froze and felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise just a bit. He scanned the room and saw that nothing had physically changed in the ten minutes he was gone, but something certainly seemed different. Bob shook it off, blaming it on a simple case of the willies and headed on, “Dr. Marcil, how sure are you that ZMapp is going to work?” Dr. Marcil gave Bob a curious look and made his way over to the desk where a full bag of ZMapp lay. Dr. Marcil picked up the bag and rubbed it through his gloved hands, “Colonel, how sure can we be about anything. I admit. I've spent my life working on ZMapp, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s the cure all. Sophie and I have had the opportunity to sample our serum in Africa, and we were able to record tremendous results. Based on those findings we’ve shown ZMapp to be, quite frankly, in this case, a wonder drug.”
J
ust then, a small bedside table tipped over in the middle of all the gurneys making a loud crashing sound. Sophie looked at Dr. Marcil and said, “You go on Doctor. I've got it.” Dr. Marcil nodded and thanked Sophie as she headed out onto the main floor, “As I was saying Bob, I believe that my ZMapp may have just saved us al-"
Dr. Marcil was interrupted by Sophie screaming, “Help! Help! He’s trying to bite me!” Bob charged toward Sophie in time to see Jean-Luc tackle the male patient who had been on top of her. Bob arrived a second later. Sophie was leaning against the gurney, and Jean-Luc was holding a male down by his arms. The male Ebola patient was growling and trying to bite Jean-Luc through his suit. The male’s bites were so exaggerated that every time he tried to bite, his teeth snapped together. The sound of the teeth snapping together reminded Bob of the glass marbles he played with as a boy striking each other. Bob grabbed a pillow from the gurney and held it over the male’s face “Ted. We need 10cc’s of Benzodiazepine Stat!”
Bob fought to hold the pillow, and could see that Jean-Luc was rapidly approaching exhaustion. Ted was back just in time, dropping to his knees, fill the syringe with the Benzo, “What happened?” “Just give him the damn shot!” Jean-Luc yelled.
The fluid pushed through the syringe, the man’s arms began to weaken instantly and finally when limp after a few seconds. Jean-Luc rolled off the male, onto his back fighting to catch his breath, “Sacrebleu!”
Bob stood up and looked down at Jean-Luc, “You can say that again!”
“Let’s get him off the floor and on the gurney.” Jean-Luc made his way to his feet and helped Bob and Ted get the male onto the bed. Sophie began taking his vitals and looked up at Bob, “He’s dead!”
Sophie pulled one of the dead man’s eyelids open and immediately released it when she saw what was underneath. An eye that had just been brown a minute ago, was now glowing blue. On closer examination, it almost appeared that the blue pigmentation was moving or spinning, and a light-gray haze was beginning to layer over the black pupil. Sophie pulled the pen light from her suit pocket and shined it across the eye, expecting to see the pupil fixed and dilated. The pupil shrank to a pinpoint when it was hit by the light. Sophie dropped the lid a second time and stepped back.
“What is it?” Ted asked.
“I must have made a mistake. He’s not dead. His pupils were reactive.”
Ted shot Sophie a smile through the clear shield of the protective suit, giving her a little snicker, “Let me take a look Sophie. Your nerves are still shot.”
Ted borrowed Sophie’s pen light and pulled the eyelid open again. The black pupil was completely grayed over now. For a brief second, he was hypnotized by the dynamic blue spinning pigment, “My God Sophie! Did you see thi-“
Ted’s sentence was interrupted when the light from the pen crossed the gray pupil which immediately shrank it to a pinpoint. The male’s second eye popped open, already blue and cataracted. Ted’s mouth dropped open to scream, but he didn’t have a chance. Before a word could pass Ted’s lips, the male reached both arms up and around Ted’s neck pulling them face to face. The male’s teeth sank into Ted’s nose tearing away at the protective shield and the tip of his nose. The male pulled and pulled at Ted, each time taking fleshy bits from his cheek, chin and finally neck, tearing away at Ted’s carotid artery. Blood sprayed all over the monster’s face with each of Ted’s heartbeats. Splatters hit Sophie and dripped down her plastic hood giving everything in the room a reddish tint, like she was wearing ski goggles. Sophie screamed with every breath. Ted was losing his battle and collapsed. The monster held on, not letting go, until they were both on the floor. Bite after bite, the male who had now turned into a relentless monster was ripping off pieces and chewing on the leathery skin. Nothing could be heard over Sophie’s screaming until a deafening bang silenced the room.
Bob had been walking back towards the nurses’ station with Dr. Marcil after Sophie had pronounced the man dead. He spun in the direction of the bang in time to see a small plume of smoke rising from the muzzle of the M4.
The soldier approached Sophie with his rifle still raised to his shoulder, the skills he’d learned for urban combat, “Ma’am! Are you okay?”
“Ted! Ted’s dead!” Sophie stood there frozen with panic.
“Ma’am come with me.” The soldier grabbed Sophie’s arm with his left hand never releasing the monster's head from his sights.
Bob and Dr.Marcil ran over and stood in awe, staring at the two dead men. He reached down and rolled the man off from Ted, exposing his bones and teeth that had once been covered with pink flesh.
“Oh my god! It looks like he tried to eat him.” Bob screamed as he reached down and attempted to find a pulse on Ted. It was too late. Ted was dead and partially eaten. “Dr. Marcil how could this happen?”
Dr. Marcil was already on one knee examining the dead patient, “I don’t understand it, Bob. This man looks like he died from the Ebola virus hours ago. I need to do an autopsy right away. I'm going to need your help!”
“Why don’t you start without me Doc? I sent Miranda downstairs to take a nap. She needs to know about Ted.”
CHAPTER 12
October 11th 8:45pm
Chevy turned off the TV, and we jumped into action. I grabbed my jacket while Chevy got his truck keys. Chevy stopped when he touched the door handle and gave me a serious look. “Ty, they’re gonna be alright. We’ll be laughing about this in an hour.”
I hoped he was right. I saw what he went through last year when his parents died in a car wreck. Going through the same thing scared me to death. It was weeks of hearing him cry through his closed bedroom door. No matter what I did, nothing seemed to help. A few months later, I talked to my mom about it, and my parents invited him over for a family dinner. Since Chevy had pretty much grown up in my house, my parents considered him a second son, and my brother. It wasn’t uncommon for my mom to call Chevy to make sure I was doing okay. On the night of our dinner, my parents expressed their feelings to Chevy. They explained that they loved him too, and they would never try to replace his parents, but he should consider them his new adopted parents. That night he was unofficially adopted into our family and has been my brother ever since. He is a little older than me, and immediately took over the roll as big brother. Consoling me at the door, before we walked out to the truck, was his way of taking care of me.
Chevy opened the front door, we were blasted with hot rotten air. “Oh my god! What is that smell? I’m gonna puke!” he said covering his mouth and nose with his hand.
“I tried to tell you that when I got back from the store today. Remember? You were too concerned about your soda!”
“Dude, it’s like rotten trash or something!”
We fought the smell and made our way out to the street, where Chevy kept his truck. The air was still and stagnate. Our street was still empty, but there was a commotion on the next street over. Chevy and I cut through the neighbor’s yard to check it out. The back of the neighbor’s property was lined with cedar hedges that were about five feet tall. From just beyond the hedges we heard a girl screaming for help and then glass breaking. We jogged to the hedge and peeked over the top. There was a girl, who looked like she was about seventeen walking up the street moaning. I wasn’t sure if she was the one who screamed, or if it was someone further down the street. Instinctively, I moved to jump over the hedges when I felt Chevy tug at my arm.
“Wait!” rolled off Chevy’s tongue, “Look at her leg. It’s backwards.”
I took a closer look at the girl. Her leg had been broken at the knee and was bent 45 degrees backwards. I couldn’t understand how she could be putting weight on it. The pain must have been excruciating. I was startled by the roar of a big diesel engine coming towards us from the other direction. I studied the vehicle as it got closer. It was a green Army Humvee and there was a soldier manning the fifty-caliber machine gun on the top turret. As the Humvee got closer, the rumble of the huge knobby tires against the paveme
nt drowned out the sound of the engine. Chevy and I stayed concealed behind the hedges, peeking through the ferny branches. The reverberation of the Humvees' engine began to wind down as someone inside flipped on the top take down lights. A second later, a spot light on the passenger side came on, illuminating the girl who was still attempting to run down the middle of the street with her broken leg. The Humvee stopped right in front of us, just beyond the hedges. We stayed silent and continued watching through the cedars. I heard the driver yell up to the soldier on the turret, “Shoot her!”
I almost jumped out from behind the cedars. I felt Chevy’s grip tightening on my arm when my ears were assaulted with repeated bangs coming from the fifty-caliber machine gun. The soldier firing the gun had a smile on his face. He was yelling, “Take that you dead bitch!” It looked like every shot fired struck the girl. The rounds didn’t just kill her. They blew her apart. Time seemed to slow as I watched each round strike the girl, blowing off body parts. First the bad leg, then an arm, and finally the girl’s head. It just disappeared. One second it was there, the next it was gone. The Humvee’s engine started to rev, and I heard the transmission drop into gear. As the vehicle drove away, I could hear all the soldiers laughing. I stood there frozen until the sound of the engine, and those massive tires had completely faded away. My knees went weak, and I dropped to my butt. I felt the air in my lungs release when I hit the ground.
Chevy yanked at my arm and said, “Come on, Ty. We’ve gotta get out of here!” I pulled away from Chevy and took my stance on my ass, “Those soldiers just shot and killed that girl right in front of us! We didn’t do a goddamn thing to help her!” Chevy dropped to his knees and put both of his hands on the side of my face, pulling my head up, so I was looking him in the eyes.
