by Barry Napier
Ray had, on occasion during his time in the airport, tried to wrap his head around what had happened to New York. And not only New York, but somewhere in Texas as well. He’d only been catching bits and pieces of that on the news before the feeds were cut.
Explosions, and then this terrible virus. It was endtimes stuff and he knew he should probably be freaking out, but he was surprisingly calm. He’d watched plenty of people lose their minds over the last two and a half days or so, breaking down and crying. He’d watched one man get so emotional that he’d slammed his head into the window looking out onto the tarmac. He’d then been roughly carted away by someone running airport security—not out of concern for the man’s safety, but because they feared he might break the window.
Ray was so lost in his recollection of the last few days, that he somehow had not noticed that he’d fallen into line behind a member of airport security. In fact, Ray was pretty sure it was the very same man that had pushed that grieving fellow away from the window. He was standing by another man in an airport security jacket and they were speaking softly. They were not whispering, but it was clear they did not want the armed military men to hear their conversation. It was suspicious enough to make Ray start listening in, trying not to appear too obvious that he was eavesdropping.
“…to believe the little briefings they’re giving us,” the man Ray recognized was saying. He was an African American man, probably in his late forties, and quite tall. The other was a pale-looking man with a well-trimmed beard. He was built like a wrestler but his face was a pure sheet of exhaustion and fear.
“Yeah,” the bearded man said. “There’s no way they’re telling us the whole truth. If that virus made it out of New York two days ago like the news said, there’s no way it’s not already in Pennsylvania.”
“If it is, that’s too bad and all, but I need to know if that’s the case,” the tall man said. “I mean, I have family. A wife, two kids, and I…hell, man, I can’t keep doing this.”
The bearded man lowered his voice a bit more as the line moved forward. “Did you hear the rumors about what was going on when they finally killed the TVs?”
“About Richmond? Yeah…I heard. I even had one of the policemen confirm it.”
“Man, what’s going on out there?” Ray wasn’t able to contain his curiosity. Also, hearing the two men speak had him more frightened than he had been this entire time. Somehow, it was worse than watching terrified people being gunned down.
“Sorry…I won’t lie,” Ray said. “I was eavesdropping. What about Richmond? What happened?”
Both men shared an uncomfortable glance. The bearded man turned away as if he couldn’t even bring himself to think about it. The taller man that Ray recognized let out a very deep sigh and leaned close to him.
“A bomb went off. A nuke. Right in the middle of Richmond, Virginia. And that’s about all we know because as soon as it showed on one single TV, whoever is in charge killed the TVs. New York is gone, and the virus is spreading along the East Coast. Texas, too. Did you know that?”
Ray only nodded.
“And now, of course we—”
But the security guard was interrupted not by a sound, but the absence of sound. In that moment, the small noises of the airport and the hum of overhead lights died out. The lights, like the background noises, died out as well. There were murmured groans through the crowd as the airport lost its power.
About a second later, there were some very audible clicking noises and then a massive hum as the backup generators kicked on. No one looked especially relieved by the generator because the fact that the power had gone out at all seemed to speak volumes.
The tall security guard looked to his friend. There were tears rimming his eyes. “We’re in really serious trouble, aren’t we?”
The other man only nodded and looked back to the military men. They stared right back like sentinels keeping secrets and all of a sudden, Ray wasn’t so sure he wanted to know what they were hiding.
Chapter 11
Olivia was beginning to understand that the woman that had introduced herself as Samantha wasn’t really a doctor. If anything, she was sort of overseeing their care. This became evident when, fifteen minutes after she and Joyce were given a room, Samantha returned to them with another woman in what Olivia was now thinking of as sick suits. Part of her couldn’t help but wonder if these suits might be what sci-fi writers had envisioned spacesuits to look like before there was a space program or any real astronauts.
“This is Dr. Chen,” Samantha said in her warm, friendly voice. Apparently she had chosen to ignore the fact that Olivia had threatened to claw her eyes out about thirty minutes ago. That, or she was trying very hard to convince Joyce that she was a good guy. “She’s going to check your vitals.”
Dr. Chen was a small Asian woman, but her gaze was quite hard coming through the plastic shield of the head portion of the sick suit. She didn’t bother speaking to them; she only nodded and gave what was supposed to pass for a smile.
“Me first,” Olivia said the moment Dr. Chen’s eyes went to Joyce.
Chen redirected her attention to Olivia and started with her. She was very robotic about it, getting the job done quickly as Samantha went through the same round of questions they’d already asked.
Chen slipped a blood pressure cuff around Olivia’s arm and started inflating it. As she waited for a reading, Samantha asked: “Are you both still feeling okay?”
“To say I’m okay would be a stretch,” Olivia said. “For starters, you people are scaring me. I feel like I’m being locked up for something I didn’t do.”
“I know,” Samantha said. “But again, we threw all of this together in an insane amount of time. We didn’t exactly have time to make the place cheerful.”
“I’ll rephrase then,” Samantha said. “Are you feeling sick?”
“No,” Olivia said.
“And you?” Samantha asked, turning her attention to Joyce.
Joyce was sitting on the edge of the little cot that was bolted to the side of the room. Olivia wondered if Paul had been taken to a room like this. The rough yet functional layout of the entire site made her think this would be the case. Perfect corners, very plain and drab, a cot and a single table, a single light overhead. Joyce looked to Olivia and then to Samantha.
“You can answer her,” Olivia said.
“Not sick,” she said. “Just tired. And sad. I miss my mommy and daddy.”
Chen, done with Olivia, seemed to not be bothered by this response. She wrapped the blood pressure cuff around Joyce’s arm as if she was simply servicing a machine. Joyce flinched a bit, but Olivia took her hand.
“It’s okay,” Olivia said. “It doesn’t hurt. She just did it to me. It’s almost like someone is giving your arm a little hug.”
Chen was squeezing the pressure bulb the entire time she spoke, not giving her time to comfort the girl. The woman’s bedside manner made Samantha look like the Patron Saint of Good Manners. This comparison seemed even more apt when Samantha took a step closer to Olivia and said: “We need another blood sample, too. You think she can take it?”
“What for?” Olivia asked.
“A myriad of reasons, actually. It’s mainly so we know everything that is going on in your body so that we can keep you healthy. We aren’t quite sure what’s going on out there, after all. Your friend Paul gave us a sample right away. But we figured it would be best to get the two of you seated in a room, a little more privately. I can clearly see you aren’t sick, but we don’t know enough about this virus and—”
“Just do it,” Olivia said, not wanting Samantha to get too deep into the virus talk in front of Joyce. “But me first. And this one,” she said, gesturing at Chen, “needs to start acting like she’s caring for a little girl and not a piece of equipment.”
Chen barely even looked in Olivia’s direction at the comment. She entered the reading from Joyce’s blood pressure into her little handheld device. She then took
their temperatures with a digital thermometer, confirming that they had not miraculously fallen ill in the half an hour since the last time they’d been scanned. Chen then used a stethoscope to check their heart and lungs. When she took out a penlight to look down their throats and in their eyes, Joyce instantly clung to Olivia and shied away from Chen.
“No, ‘Livia! Don’t let her!”
“It’s okay,” Olivia said. “It’s just a little light. She’ll use it to look in your eyes and in your mouth. It doesn’t hurt. See, watch.”
She made a big show of allowing Chen to use the light on her. When she was done, Olivia saw that Joyce was still very uneasy. Olivia nudged her and said: “If you want, she can even look up your nose. How many boogers do you think she’d find up there?”
Joyce smiled thinly and even suppressed a giggle. It was just enough to allow her to let go of Olivia’s arm for a moment. Chen did her thing with the penlight, and put the results in her little device again. She pocketed the light and the device, replacing it with a small kit as if it were some sort of magic trick. When she took the lancet out, Olivia had to admit that although the woman came off as heartless, she knew what she was doing. The lancet resembled a pen, after all—not too dissimilar from the penlight she’d just used. Olivia knew what was coming and hated the woman a bit for it.
Olivia placed her arm around Joyce’s shoulders as Chen reached for Joyce’s hand. She did not ask for it, she just took it. Joyce, thinking she was going to let a light shine on her hand, thought nothing of it. Chen turned Joyce’s hand, extended her arm a bit too roughly, and slid the needle in and then out, replaced by the tube. She was lightning fast—so fast that she was already collecting the sample by the time the pain had registered and Joyce started screaming.
“Classy,” Olivia said.
“Ms. Foster, we truly are doing our best,” Samantha said.
Chen finished up collecting Joyce’s sample and instantly placed it into the kit. Then, robotic as always, she turned to Olivia and took her arm in the same way she’d taken Joyce’s. Olivia wanted to yank it away out of nothing more than defiance, but she did not want to set that example for Joyce. She stared at the woman as her blood was drawn, looking away only to meet Samantha’s eyes through her protective plastic shield.
“When will someone try to reach out to her father?” Olivia asked.
Chen started bandaging their fingers, doing it with that same creepy efficiency. When she was done, she walked back to the door, waiting impatiently for Samantha.
“I believe they’re already trying,” Samantha said. “If he’s around some form of military presence—and I believe he would be if he was at an airport—someone here should be able to contact whoever is in charge wherever her father is. Of course, you can imagine how crazy communications are right now. You have to give us some time.”
“And what about Paul? When will we get to see him? I’d really rather us all be together.”
“Even in these cramped rooms?” Samantha asked, trying to sound funny.
“We’d make do.”
Samantha shrugged as she joined Chen by the door. “Should be any moment now. I’ll see what I can do.”
“’Livia,” Joyce said quietly. “I gotta go pee.”
Samantha heard this and gave a deep sigh. She looked to Chen, nodded, and then back into the room. “Come on then, little one,” she said. “I’ll take you to the restroom.”
Joyce and Olivia walked towards the door and Samantha started shaking her head right away. “Sorry, but only one at a time.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Olivia said.
“No. Too much of a security risk.”
“Based on the secrecy of this place and the way you people are acting, there’s no way in hell I’m going to let you walk off with this little girl. Not without me by her side.”
“That’s your call,” Samantha said. “But you can’t both come out at the same time. And it seems she has to pee quite badly.”
This was true, as Joyce was starting to bounce anxiously on her feet. But at the same time, it was quite clear by the way she was hanging on Olivia that Joyce was terrified to go alone with Samantha and Chen.
“You people are wretched,” Olivia said. “What could we possibly do? Make a run for it? With all of those armed military men around? For people that claim they are only here to help, you have a very odd way of showing it.”
Samantha gave another of her sighs. It fogged up the inside of her mask a bit, but her determined eyes were still quite clear.
“You can handcuff me if you feel like I’m a threat,” Olivia said in jest.
“That won’t be necessary,” Samantha said. She then turned to Chen and said, “Please let Sergeant Hinkley know that our young ladies need to go to the bathroom.”
Chen nodded and used a keycard from her pocket to open the door. She did so by tapping it against a small black rectangle in the center of a small, concave box beside the wall. There was a beeping noise and then the hydraulics in the door sounded out. Olivia took note of this and it scared her. This door could only be opened with a keycard that was carried by the doctors and soldiers, apparently. Samantha and her superiors could paint it any way they wanted, but Olivia was starting to feel that they were prisoners here rather than valuable guests.
“One moment,” Samantha said. “If both of you are going, you’ll have to be escorted.”
“Why?” Olivia asked.
Samantha thought about her response for a moment and then turned to her with something very much like sympathy in her eyes. “Honestly? It’s for your protection and ours. All of this was thrown together so quickly and there are some corners we had to cut. And yes…there are some things we are doing here that would be frowned upon by those that insist on holding true to traditional protocols. But unless you haven’t noticed, the world is in a place right now where so-called traditional protocols aren’t cutting it.”
Deep down, Olivia almost understood this. And she tried to remind herself that Samantha was doing her best to do her job without being a heartless monster. Samantha was having to live through the same horrors outside as everyone else, and she was also having to do it while wearing a brave face.
Still, despite her understanding, Olivia was not going to let these people walk all over them. No windows in the room, no contact with what was left of the outside world and now needing an armed escort to go to the restroom…it made Olivia wonder if these people knew much more than they were letting on. And if that was the case, were the secrets they were keeping worse than the reality of what had happened in New York?
The idea was chilling and when Olivia hugged Joyce close to her while they waited for their escort, it was more for her comfort than Joyce’s.
***
Paul could hear a slight whirring noise overhead as he lay down on the cot. He had started to wonder if it was some sort of air purifier or a generator of some kind running elsewhere on the grounds. If the people in charge were telling the truth about having set this place up in less than a day, it was impressive. It was also scary because it meant they were throwing an insane amount of manpower at it. It meant the roadblocks and these mobile facilities were of very high importance, and something about that made Paul feel uncomfortable.
Before he could allow his mind to fixate on it too much, the humming of the purifier or generator was interrupted by another noise. The mechanical noises of the hydraulics in his door broke his concentration. He sat up just in time to see two men entering his little room. One was Dr. Jolly, still dressed in his protective suit and carrying a small kit. He assumed the other man was Hinkley, but he could tell at once it was not. This was a man Paul had not yet seen; he looked to be roughly Paul’s age, something that was easy to tell even though all Paul had to go from was the portion of face revealed by the plastic screen on the headgear of the suit he wore. Even though he was wearing a suit very similar to Jolly’s, Paul could tell the man was military. Not only that, he was the sort of milita
ry that acted first and asked questions later—the sort of man that demanded respect wherever he went. Hinkley, the soldier that had slammed him in the chest with a rifle, had possessed that same trait but this man had something a little extra. Paul could tell it from the way he managed to stand resolute and confident even in the bulky protective suit, even with the plastic guard over his face.
“How are you, Mr. Gault?” Jolly asked.
“Feeling sort of like a rat in a cage, if you want to know the truth.”
Jolly chose to ignore this comment. Instead, he nodded at the man who had entered with him. “This is Commander Ramsey. He’s second in command here, and he’d like to speak with you.”
“Hinkley got his licks in and then bailed, huh?” Paul said, getting to his feet. “Is he off somewhere assaulting other people who have done absolutely no wrong?”
“You can cut that right now,” Ramsey said. “I’m no fool, Mr. Gault. If I were in your shoes, I’d be pissed off, too. We’re holding you against your will. While we do absolutely have your best interest at heart, it’s not our chief priority. I know Hinkley. He’s served under me for years and he’s a very good soldier. But he’s also soft. I will not tolerate any snide attitude or questioning of my authority.” He eyed Paul heavily through the plastic sheeting and then added: “This will be the only warning you get.”
