H7N9- The Complete Series

by Mark Campbell

  Teddy rowed on for what felt like an hour before his arms gave up. He sat slumped on the bench and massaged his aching biceps.

  Oak, tupelo, and cypress trees surrounded the river once again and created small, mossy islands.

  Teddy drifted with the current and occasionally used the oars to steer away from any trees that impeded their path.

  Ein kept himself propped against the gunwale with his fingers laced behind his head.

  “It doesn’t feel like we’re getting any closer to Greenville,” Teddy said with a sigh.

  Ein kept silent.

  Teddy frowned. “What? We’re not speaking now?”

  “What’s there to say?” Ein asked. “I can’t really help us get there any faster with my oars at the bottom of the river, now can I?”

  Teddy rubbed his aching arms and nodded towards the oars. “You could take over for me, smartass.”

  “I think I’d prefer to sit here instead.”

  Teddy furrowed his brows. “If you’re waiting for an apology, you’re not getting one! Those people were armed! It was an ambush, and I saved your life!” He paused and pointed at him. “You should be thanking me!”

  “If you say so,” Ein replied nonchalantly.

  “Of course, I say so!” Teddy growled. “Think about it—why would any community be so open and inviting? Didn’t that seem strange to you? It’s not my fault that you didn’t notice their weapons… I know what I saw.”

  “And I know what I saw,” Ein said. “Those people weren’t armed…”

  Teddy waved a hand in the air and snorted. “What the hell do you know about it?” He grabbed the oars and started rowing again. “You don’t even know what you saw—all it takes to get you all turned around is for some pretty girl to bat her eyelashes at you!”

  Ein gave him a pitying look. “You know, I feel sorry for you… It must be awful to be so afraid.”

  “I don’t need your pity.” Teddy scoffed. “Besides, fear has nothing to do with common sense!”

  “You’re afraid to belong,” Ein said after studying him for a few moments. “You’re afraid of being a part of something bigger… something better… You’re actually afraid of community, aren’t you? It didn’t dawn on me before.” He paused, considering his words carefully. “You actually preferred prison—you keep pulling off these grand escapes, but in the end, you keep taking us back to the only thing you’re familiar with.”

  The words needled Teddy, but he kept rowing. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!”

  Ein stared up at the treetops, frowning. “I need something more than four walls and a hot meal, Teddy… I know it’s not something you even think about, but you can’t force me to live your lifestyle, and you can’t be mad at me for wanting more out of mine.”

  “If you’re not going to help me row, then shut up.” Teddy swallowed hard to fight against the anger that was rising in him.

  Ein didn’t press him and remained quiet as he stared up at the trees.

  Another hour passed.

  The river eventually widened as it got closer to Greenville. The cypress trees thinned out, and grasslands bordered by coniferous forests dominated the landscape once more.

  In the middle of the mighty river, a barge had overturned and dumped a line of cargo containers that stretched out for about four miles downriver.

  Teddy kept the boat close to the boggy shoreline to avoid the floating obstacles, and to stay clear of the flammable bunker fuel that leaked out of the barge that created a shimmering oily slick on top of the water.

  He spotted a small vessel that had run aground near the shipwreck and stopped rowing.

  It was a raft with a massive fan attached to the back of it.

  “Kid, look—it’s an airboat.” Teddy let go of the oars and pointed ahead. “I bet you there’s gas in that tank too!”

  Ein sat up and looked over at it. His dreary expression brightened. “I’ve never seen a boat like that.”

  “Cajun shit.” Teddy grabbed the oars and started rowing. “Probably drifted off from some swamp.”

  As they got closer, Teddy noticed that the airboat wasn’t unmanned after all.

  A mummified ghoul sat slouched in one of the seats with its head cocked back, and its hollowed eye sockets pointed up at the clear sky. Black mold and mildew covered what was left of the corpse’s plaid shirt and orange lifejacket. Fishing poles and a tackle box sat on the seat across from him.

  “I’ll get as close as I can, and then I want you to reach out and grab it, okay?” Teddy slowed and turned towards the airboat.

  Ein stared at the ghoul with disgust. “What about the dead guy?”

  “Don’t think he’s going to fight you for it.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Ein said irritably. “What should I do with him?”

  “What do you think we’re going to do, pray over him and perform last rites? Grab him and dump him overboard!”

  Ein stomach’s knotted at the sight of the maggots crawling over his leathery skin. “I was hoping to avoid the whole grabbing him part.”

  Teddy pointed urgently at the airboat. “Christ, kid— I’ll handle it! Just grab it before we pass it!”

  Ein leaned over the bow and stretched his hand out. He snatched the rope that was fed through the metal hoops all around the airboat. “Got it!”

  Teddy let go of the oars, shot off of his seat, and leaped onto the airboat. He grabbed the rotting corpse with both hands and hurled it into the water.

  The constant current twirled the two boats and threatened to separate them from one another.

  Ein’s fingers turned white as his grip started to slip. His eyes widened with panic. “I’m losing it!”

  “I got you!” Teddy reached over the edge and grabbed Ein’s wrist.

  As Teddy started to pull Ein on board, the water became choppy and a persistent thith-thith-thith noise that grew to a deafening crescendo.

  Teddy turned and saw two black helicopters rapidly approaching over the water. Both crafts had mini-guns and a pair of rockets attached to their pylons.

  A voice boomed from one of the craft’s speakers: Attention—Teddy Sanders—put your hands in the air and surrender to federal custody immediately, or we will use deadly force!

  Instead of complying, Teddy tried to scramble back onto the boat with Ein. “Kid, we have to get out of here!”

  “They’ll shoot us!” Ein exclaimed as he stared wide-eyed at the helicopters.

  “They’re bluffing!” Teddy shouted over the noise of the helicopter blades. “They need us!”

  Unfortunately for Teddy, he was only half correct in his assumption.

  The craft’s mini-gun barrels started whirling and opened a barrage of gunfire towards the boat that Ein was standing on.

  Teddy ducked down onto the deck of the airboat and covered his head.

  Ein flung himself backward, got tangled in the tarp canopy, and fell into the water as the bullets ripped through the fiberglass hull. The bullet-riddled boat capsized and floated on top of the water.

  The helicopters stopped firing.

  “Ein!” Teddy shouted out as he stared down at the water with dread.

  He saw what looked like thousands of pieces of fiberglass and bits of tattered foam all around the capsized boat, but there was no sign of the kid.

  Ein was gone.

  Angry tears streamed down Teddy’s sunburnt cheeks. He turned and faced the helicopter and held his balled fists out at his side. “If you want me, then just kill me too, you cold-hearted motherfuckers!”

  One of the helicopters fired a rocket just in front of the airboat and sent a geyser of water gushing up into the air.

  The impact was far enough away not to hurt Teddy, but close enough to knock him off of the boat.

  Teddy swam frantically to the shore, desperate to escape the freezing water that stole his breath and numbed him to his core.

  The helicopters banked over to the shore, and their side do
ors slid open. FEMA officers wearing gas masks and armed with snub-nosed submachine guns fast-roped down to the ground below.

  Teddy clawed his way up onto the rocky shoreline and gasped for breath. He moved forward on his elbows, dragging his numbed legs out of the water and onto land.

  Within seconds, the officers surrounded Teddy and pointed their weapons at him.

  “Give up, you stupid prick,” one of the men said as he stepped towards him. His uniform bore sergeant insignias on the shoulders below the Department of Homeland Security logo. “It’s over.”

  Teddy looked up at the sergeant with strands of saliva hanging from his open, gasping mouth. He glowered at him and managed a weak, “Fuck you…”

  The sergeant kicked Teddy in the face and knocked him out cold. He stepped back and admired his work before twirling a finger in the air and signing for the others to act. “Strap him to the stretcher and get him on the bird.”

  While the others went to work loading Teddy onto a stretcher and carried him towards one of the waiting helicopters, two officers stood at the shoreline. They peered over at the capsized boat for several minutes.

  “Any sign of Ein Becker?” the sergeant asked as he peered over their shoulder.

  “No, sir,” one of the men answered. “No air bubbles—nothing.”

  “Good, then let’s wrap this up and get back to the Greenville.”

  “When’s the team from Atlanta picking up the live one?” the other officer asked.

  “CDC is picking him up tomorrow morning.” The sergeant removed his gas mask and lit a cigarette. He took a long drag and blew the smoke up towards the sky. “Our doc has to make sure he’s stabilized and sedated first or some shit… I don’t know—I just follow orders.”

  “Wait… Does that mean that we gotta stay the night with him in that shithole staging zone?” one of the men asked.

  The sergeant took another slow drag and nodded. “Unfortunately…”

  Both of the officers groaned. “Man, I’m getting sick and tired of these babysitting missions, sarge.”

  The sergeant flicked what was left of his cigarette into the water and put his mask back on. “You and me both.” He turned and walked towards one of the helicopters as it landed.

  The two officers turned their attention back to the river and waited a few moments as they watched for any air bubbles or signs of life. Satisfied, they fired a few rounds into the water for good measure, turned, and joined the sergeant.

  CHAPTER 20

  Only seventeen minutes passed since the first shots were fired, but to Ein, it felt like an eternity.

  Ein clung to the stern of the capsized boat for dear life as he trod water. The air pocket started large enough at first, but it had rapidly diminished to a space that barely accommodated his head.

  The cold water sent painful pins and needles throughout his body, and eventually, everything turned numb.

  It was an odd, terrifying sensation to feel nothing below the shoulders, and all he could do was focus on his breaths that came out as rapid gasps in-between chattering teeth.

  Exhaustion overcame him and wrapped a velvet hand around his throat, but he kept clinging to life and kept his head above water.

  It took every ounce of willpower that he had to resist the urge to close his eyes and just let go.

  Ein heard the officer’s conversation at the shore.

  Greenville—they were taking him to Greenville.

  The people on the shore fired a few aimless rounds into the water, and then there was silence.

  Ein listened as the noise of the helicopters faded away.

  He intended to wait for a few more minutes just to make sure that they were gone, but his pocket of air finally went away as the overturned boat started to sink.

  Ein swam out from under the boat and shoved himself away from it even as the current tried to pull him under.

  Underwater, he lost all sense of direction. His vision started to fade as he looked around in a panic.

  He saw the sunlight and swam up towards it.

  Ein gasped for air as he broke the surface and then weakly made his way to the shore.

  He climbed out of the water, and the prickling sensation returned with an excruciating vengeance.

  Ein coughed up water and wrapped his arms around his chest as he curled into a fetal position on the sand and shivered.

  Nearby, washed ashore from the rocket’s blast, sat the airboat.

  Greenville, he thought to himself as his body quivered, and his teeth chattered. They’re taking him to Greenville.

  CHAPTER 21

  JANUARY 3rd

  12:01 AM

  General Fox sat aboard a U.S.A.F. HH-60W “Whiskey” as it headed westward back towards the Cheyanne Mountain Command Complex.

  He hadn’t intended to leave so early, but he was exhausted, and his head was foggy.

  Besides, they didn’t really need him anyway.

  The forward operating base in Dickson was being packed up, and the units were returning to their assigned zones.

  Ein Becker had been eliminated, and Teddy Sanders was in custody—Teddy Sanders would soon be on his way to Atlanta.

  The mission was a complete success.

  Fox sat bundled up in his parka with a wool cap on his head. He stared down at the snow-covered planes of Kansas below as the aircraft’s flashing navigational lights illuminated the barren earth in red and white strobe.

  He was expected to brief the “old men” as soon as he landed, but he didn’t see how that would be possible given his current physical state.

  It felt as if his skull was splitting into two, and he had already thrown up twice.

  On top of it all, he thought he was coming down with a fever.

  Initially, he had ascribed his symptoms to a chronic lack of sleep and the result of stress.

  However, as things gradually worsened, his mind returned time and time again to that minuscule hole in his white-suit.

  A sense of dread filled his stomach with lead whenever he considered that he might have been ill with whatever strain of flu had killed those poor fuckers in Dover.

  It’s an irrational thought, he told himself. I wasn’t even there that long, and I didn’t touch any of them.

  But he had touched people, and he had touched things, hadn’t he?

  Hadn’t he touched that priest?

  What about door handles—could the virus even survive on surfaces?

  Fox couldn’t remember, and his head hurt every time he tried to concentrate for an extended amount of time.

  All he wanted to sleep in his own bed.

  All he wanted was to go home.

  I’m not sick, he thought. I’m just tired…

  He just needed rest.

  Fox leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

  Just as he was about to drift off to sleep, he sneezed.

  The other seven military staffers aboard didn’t even flinch as the good general inadvertently signed their death certificates.

  Nobody aboard had ever imagined that the Cheyanne Mountain Command Complex would soon suffer the same fate as Dover.

  CHAPTER 22

  Teddy opened his eyes, but all he could see were blurry shapes and flashes of light. He was lying down, and getting up was out of the question—his head felt full of seltzer. His body seemed to be weighed down with lead.

  His thoughts were muddled.

  His hearing was drowned out by tinnitus.

  Drugged, he realized in a fleeting moment of coherent thought.

  He tried to make himself sit up, but the command was diluted and lost its way traveling from his mind down to his numbed, unresponsive nerves.

  Shadows loomed over him and stared down. They mumbled as they studied him.

  They poked, prodded, and pricked his body with needles.

  Teddy tried to speak, but when he opened his mouth, he made no sound.

  Somewhere, a machine beeped.

  Elsewhere, a police radio warbled.<
br />
  Above him, someone brought the surgical light down closer and blinded him.

  Teddy squinted and tried to turn his head, but one of the shadowy men placed a gloved hand down against his forehead and stopped him from doing so.

  There was another prick in his forearm as a needle was inserted and quickly taped down to his skin.

  Teddy screamed again and managed a garbled, incoherent line of childish gibberish.

  The shadowy figures paid him no mind and continued examining their specimen.

  Something cold and metallic touched his bare chest.

  Teddy flinched and tried to turn his head again.

  A gloved hand brought a mask to his face and covered his nose and mouth.

  The mask gave a steady hiss as it pumped sweet, noxious fumes into his lungs.

  Teddy’s eyelids fluttered.

  The shadows started spinning around him.

  The lights faded.

  Darkness.

  CHAPTER 23

  A strange hexagonal structure had taken shape in the course of a few hours along the banks of Greenville, Mississippi.

  A series of close-coupled FEMA trailers connected by generator lines and enclosed rubber passageways encircled a helipad in the middle of the Port of Greenville. The trailers and most of the equipment were remnants of the government’s initial outbreak response from an army battalion stationed out of Montgomery, Alabama. They had been brought in on General Fox’s orders. Flood lamps surrounded the trailers and lit up the area with harsh white light against the otherwise blackened skyline of a dead, deserted city.

  Private First Class Edward Kirton stood near the entrance of one of the trailers with a hand-rolled cigarette dangling out the corner of his mouth. He was a short, stocky black man who wore his old sheriff department’s badge on a chain around his neck in front of his armored vest—a small memento from the life that he had had before the amalgamation under the Department of Homeland Security. He glanced down, anxiously at his digital watch with his rifle propped up next to him. “Shit… It isn’t even three yet.”

  Kirton cupped his gloved hands together, blew on his fingers, and rubbed his palms vigorously as he shivered in the night’s chilly air.