The Scourge (Book 1): Unprepared

by Abrahams, Tom

Miriam shook her head and smiled. “You didn’t look like you froze to me. You handled the situation like you’d done this before.”

  “No, I—”

  Their moment was interrupted by the sounds of men shouting. At first she thought it was an argument, but when she looked across the road and toward the chopper, she saw Amir yelling at someone. He was awkwardly urging someone toward him. Amir was holding a limp woman in his arms. A man was on the ground at his feet.

  She’d forgotten about Amir. In the five minutes since they’d left the Land Rover, an eternity had passed. What had transpired was in slow motion to Miriam. Focusing on the child in her arms, she had blocked out everything else around her.

  Now she smelled the smoke again, the burning oil and jet fuel. She understood that the calls for help were coming from everywhere, not just Amir’s position closer to the wreckage.

  It was like someone had cranked the volume after having had it on mute. But the controls were all sensory and it was overwhelming. Her gut twisted as she held the girl and Gretchen’s hand.

  Amir disappeared beyond a group of people gathered near the helicopter wreckage. There were more than a dozen, calling out for survivors. Cries for help punctuated the humid air.

  The rain had stopped. The mist hung above her, and looking south Miriam saw the dark gray curtain of rain moving away from them. The chilled air tickled her spine and she shuddered again.

  “I think that’s good,” said Mike. “This should hold. I just need a wrap, something to cover the packed wound.”

  Mike looked up at her without asking the question. Her eyes met his and then led them to the first aid kit a few feet away.

  “I think there’s an Ace bandage in there,” she said. “Would that work?”

  The child shifted in her arms and she almost lost her grip. Miriam adjusted and realized one of her legs was falling asleep. She grimaced and moved, her feet sloshing in her shoes. At least she’d worn flats.

  “Thank you,” Mike said. “Gretchen, lie still.” He dug through the kit and found a rolled bandage. He held it up as if he’d found a prize in a scavenger hunt, and scooted back to his patient.

  A couple of minutes later, Gretchen was sitting up. Her expression was pained, but she looked more exhausted than anything else. Her color was coming back. “Thank you,” she managed. Her voice was hoarse, audible but weak. “Thank you so much.”

  Her wound clotted and bandaged, she reached out for her daughter. Miriam obliged and carefully put the child into her mother’s lap, avoiding the injured leg.

  “You got her?” she asked Gretchen.

  Gretchen winced but smiled through it. She held the girl across one leg and put her chin on her shoulder like she would an infant. The child’s small fists unwound and she put her hands around her mother’s neck. “Yes,” Gretchen said. “I’ve got her.”

  Miriam stood, but lost her balance from her numb leg. As she wavered, Mike stepped closer and took her elbow with his hand.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Miriam’s face flushed. She looked at the ground but nodded self-consciously. “I’m fine,” she said. “Thank you, Mike.”

  Mike let go of her and addressed Gretchen. “You have a car? You have help? I don’t want to leave you here.”

  Before Gretchen could answer, a sheriff’s deputy, bleeding from a gash across his forehead, approached. His uniform was stained with grease, dirt, and blood. He was out of breath.

  “Hey,” he said. “You. Buddy. Could I get that first aid kit? We’ve got people over here who need help.”

  Mike looked at Miriam and motioned his head toward the deputy. She nodded.

  “Sure, Deputy Maryland,” said Mike. “Take what you need. You need help?”

  Maryland bent over and picked up the first aid kit. He held it open with both hands, not bothering to snap it closed. He started to walk away.

  “Do like I said,” he called over his shoulder. “Take care of you. It’s every man for himself.”

  “And woman,” muttered Miriam.

  “Where are you headed?” Mike asked.

  Miriam wasn’t sure whom he was asking. “Me?” she said, pointing to her chest.

  She shifted her weight in her shoes. The water sloshed between her toes. It was cold, and she was sure there was blood in it. She glanced over at Gretchen. The woman’s eyes were closed and she rocked, cradling the child.

  “Yeah,” said Mike. “Both of you, where are you headed?”

  Gretchen opened her eyes. “Home,” she said and nodded toward the backup of cars in the westbound lanes. “My car is over there. We got out to look at the commotion. You told us to go back. We should have listened sooner.”

  “I’ll get you back to your car,” said Mike. Then he motioned to Miriam. “What about you?”

  Miriam’s eyes drifted from Mike to the scene behind him. She glanced back at Amir’s Land Rover on the opposite side of the I-4 overpass. The windshield wipers were still sweeping across the glass. “I’m looking for a friend,” she said. “She works around here. She wasn’t at home, so I was looking for her.”

  Mike took a couple of steps closer to her. “She works around here? In Lake Mary?”

  Miriam nodded. “At a radio station. I’m not from here and I—”

  Mike laughed. “Seriously? A radio station? Which one?”

  She told him and then said, “My friend’s name is Ashley Pomerantz.”

  The disbelieving smile evaporated and Mike took a step back. It looked like a stagger backward. He went ashen. His brow furrowed and Miriam saw him swallow hard, struggling with what to do with his hands.

  He folded his arms then unfolded them. He tried stuffing his hands into his pockets but couldn’t find them. Finally, he drew them to his face and covered his mouth.

  Miriam stepped forward. “What is it?” she asked, urgency mixed with worry in her voice. “Do you know her? Is she okay?”

  Mike’s eyes were on hers, but he was looking somewhere else, somewhere far from the smoke and jet fuel. She waved at him, trying to bring him back to her. He blinked, nodded, and cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah.”

  “She’s okay?”

  His eyes glistened. She couldn’t be sure if it was from the rain or something else.

  “I know her,” he said. “I don’t think she’s okay though.”

  CHAPTER 16

  OCTOBER 2, 2032

  SCOURGE +/- 0 DAYS

  LAKE MARY, FLORIDA

  Mike followed Miriam through the maze of cars toward the bridge that crossed over I-4. Aside from the lingering headache that thumped dully at his temples, he was good. The adrenaline of the moment hadn’t left him yet. The rain was gone and the front that brought it left behind cooler air. The sky was dark, the thick layer of clouds causing an early sunset, but there was enough gray light left for him to see his surroundings.

  They’d helped Gretchen and her daughter back to her car, the injured woman insistent that they leave her behind the wheel. She didn’t want to wait for the promised arrival of more medical help. She wanted to go home. Since she lived in the gated Heathrow community a few blocks from where she was stuck, she told Mike to let her be. After thanking him and giving him a longer-than-comfortable hug, Mike and Miriam left her in her Toyota, and the two of them went to find Amir, her Uber driver.

  They’d checked in with Brice, who was slouched against the Jeep. He’d seen and felt the helicopter crash but had stayed with the vehicle, unsure of his ability to help anyone. His head was throbbing and he was weak. Mike told him to lie down in the passenger’s seat and relax. He’d be back.

  After they found Amir, they helped three more injured people. Two men and a child had cuts and bruises. One of them also suffered burns on his face and arms. All of them would survive, Mike figured, as he passed them off to one of the uninjured medics. He surveyed the smoldering debris, the stunned bystanders, the injured, and the snarled traffic, and wondered if surviving was a blessing or a curse.

  A
mir walked in front of Mike and Miriam, leading the way to the Land Rover still idling in the middle of the eastbound Lake Mary Boulevard traffic. Below them and behind them, the wail of ambulances and firetrucks announced the arrival of additional medical help. The emergency responders were coming from the Interstate in both directions.

  Miriam hadn’t said much since he’d told her that Ashley was sick and likely a victim of the Scourge. Her quietly confident demeanor was deflated, and she moved next to him in an hypnotic trance. Her shoulders sagged, her steps dragged, her stare was distant, her expression something between concern and confusion.

  Mike glanced to his right and, through a cluster of pine trees, saw their eventual destination. Its parking lot was empty. That was a good sign.

  “I’ll carry your luggage for you,” he said. “It’s not a long walk to the hotel, but it’ll be easier for you if I do it.”

  There was a Marriott Courtyard a few hundred yards from where Amir’s vehicle was stopped. Both sides of Lake Mary Boulevard were well developed from its western edge at Markham Woods Road to the 417 toll road on its eastern edge. It was what made for easy living during normal times and contributed to the tangled mess that clogged the area around Mike’s home and work. One of the older strip malls was near the entrance of Heathrow and sat along the southbound lanes of I-4. Across the shopping center was the hotel. It was old but well-maintained, and Mike offered it as a place for Miriam to stay once she understood bunking with Ashley wasn’t an option.

  Miriam nodded blankly without looking at Mike. “Okay, thanks.”

  Amir reached the Land Rover first. It was a Discovery, a smaller SUV with a boxy appearance. He opened the back tailgate, pulled out Miriam’s luggage, then closed it. With a series of fluid movements, he lowered the suitcase to the road, extended the telescoping handle, and rolled it around the driver’s side to her.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you there?” he asked. “I don’t mind waiting. It’s not like I can go anywhere anyway.”

  Miriam forced a smile. “No, thanks. I can get there faster by walking. Plus, I already maxed out my credit card on this ride today.”

  Mike thought her attempt at humor was a good sign. Perhaps her stupor was ebbing.

  Amir chuckled and extended a hand to her. “Thank you for your business. I wish you much luck getting home.”

  Miriam took his hand and shook it limply. She was still going through the motions.

  Amir climbed back into his SUV and pulled his seatbelt across his chest. He waved goodbye to them through the tinted glass.

  Mike took the suitcase, collapsed the handle, and picked up the small suitcase by the rubber grip handle on the side of the bag. He took a step ahead of Miriam and led her toward the hotel. He waited for her to speak, giving her space to think about the shocking news he’d given her.

  They’d crossed the road and were walking along the eastbound curb, avoiding draining water, when she finally spoke. It was dark enough that the streetlights were humming to life. Mike glanced to his right toward the freeway. The lights were already illuminated there, casting warm sprays of orange light onto the gray concrete lanes beneath them. Traffic was thinning on the Interstate. Lake Mary Boulevard was still at a standstill. The air was getting almost cold and a shiver tickled his neck.

  “Tell me more about what happened to her,” said Miriam. “Are you sure it was the Scourge? How can you be sure?”

  She was walking next to him, matching his pace stride for stride. Even in the dim light he saw the furrow in her brow.

  Mike swallowed hard. His mouth and throat were dry despite his clothes being soaked. The bag rubbed against his left thigh as he carried it. He was sure he’d end up with a rash. “I just know,” he said. “I don’t think you want to know the details.”

  They stepped up from the curb and onto a narrow strip of grass that separated the road from a sidewalk. His shoes sank into the soft earth. Mud stuck to the treads and made a sucking sound as he lifted his feet onto the sidewalk.

  Miriam hopped over the grass, avoiding the slop. “I want to know.”

  Her phone was in her hand, her purse at her hip, its strap slung across her body. She stepped with new purpose along the sidewalk.

  Mike didn’t know this woman. He barely knew Ashley. At least he didn’t know his crush as well as he would have liked. Was it fair of him to talk to one of them about the other, to reveal something so sensitive?

  His mind flashed to Ashley coughing blood onto her computer, to the shock and fear in her wide eyes when she tried to hold back another wet hack. He saw her body go limp and then tense as she convulsed. He remembered the feel of her cold skin, the thick odor of sweat and mucus and blood. His heart raced thinking about it, about his exposure to the disease. There was nothing he could do about any of it now.

  “Mike,” said Miriam, “tell me more about her. I need to know. She’s my friend. We go way back and—”

  “I don’t know if she’s still alive,” he blurted. “I don’t think she was breathing when she left.”

  He immediately regretted it and started to apologize but pressed his mouth shut and walked without looking at her.

  He felt her stare. It was searching him, probing for more while scolding for what he’d already revealed. They stepped from the end of the sidewalk and crossed its intersection with a two-lane road that led from the boulevard to the shopping center across from the hotel.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know her condition. I—”

  “It’s okay,” said Miriam. “I asked you. You told me. I can’t blame you for doing what I asked you to do.”

  “I could have been…”

  “More delicate?” She finished his sentence for him. “Yeah. But it’s fine.”

  They stepped up onto the sidewalk and turned left to follow it toward the hotel. Mike saw one car in the parking lot from this vantage point.

  They reached the door to the lobby. Mike held the door for Miriam and she marched toward the registration desk. An older man with slicked-back white hair stood alone behind the desk. He wore a weary smile and a pressed long-sleeved red shirt that he had folded up to his elbows.

  “Welcome to the Courtyard by Marriott Orlando/Lake Mary North,” he said. “How may I help you?”

  Mike joined Miriam at the counter as she pulled her purse strap over her head. She laid the purse on the counter and placed her elbows on the laminate. Mike put the luggage on the floor next to her and stepped back. The clerk wore an embossed name tag. It read Chris Manzke.

  To the side of the desk, in a small but comfortable lounge, a wall-mounted television showed a cable news channel. The volume was too low for Mike to hear the reporting, but a banner scrolling across the bottom of the screen told him everything he already knew.

  WIDESPREAD PANIC PRECEDES SPREAD OF PLAGUE. “SCOURGE MANIA” REPORTED IN MAJOR CITIES COAST TO COAST. FEMA BLAMES MEDIA FOR RUNS ON STORES, ATMS, TRAFFIC GRIDLOCK.

  “Yes, thank you,” said Miriam. “I’d like a room.”

  The man glanced at Mike then addressed Miriam. “Do you have a reservation with us, ma’am?”

  Miriam pulled a wallet from her purse and withdrew a card. She handed it to the clerk. He took it and stared at it while she answered him.

  “No, I don’t. This is an unexpected stay.”

  Mike stepped to the counter next to Miriam. She glanced over at him and smiled. He smiled back. Both of them were being polite.

  The man looked up from the card in his hand and handed it back to her. “Thank you for your loyalty, Ms. Weber. However, I can’t help you. I’m so sorry. We don’t have any availability tonight. You could try tomorrow.”

  Miriam blinked twice. Mike thought he noticed a twitch. Her smile disappeared and then spread again. This time it was wider. But the tone of her voice betrayed that the smile was a mask. Her response was measured and restrained.

  Mike stepped back from the counter. His phone chimed a
nd he pulled it from his pocket. It was a text message from Brice.

  Where u at?

  His thumbs hovered over the screen for a moment before he typed his response. He glanced over his shoulder at Miriam as she challenged the desk clerk.

  “I’m a Titanium Bonvoy member,” she said. “I’m sure you can find something. There’s always something.”

  I’m at the hotel across from Heathrow. Helping Miriam get a room. Be back soon. U good?

  He pressed the send icon and waited for it to transmit. On the other side of the desk, Manzke ran a hand along the top of his white hair, then raked his fingers along the sides of his head, above his ears. He looked at the computer screen in front of him. He typed on the wireless keyboard.

  The clerk frowned. His eyes widened and narrowed. His eyebrows moved up and down. He muttered to himself. Finally he looked up from the screen. “I’m sorry, Ms. Weber,” he said. “I’ve looked at every possibility. I have no rooms. None.”

  Mike interjected, “The parking lot’s empty. How could you be full?”

  Manzke shrugged and cleared his throat. “The wreck out there. The helicopter. It’s got people giving up and coming here.”

  “What do you mean giving up?”

  “They’re leaving their cars and coming here,” he said. “We were already half full because of a big meeting in the business park down the road. Then a bunch of people showed up a half hour ago. All the rooms are taken. I could fit you in tomorrow night.”

  Miriam’s arms were at her sides, her fists clenched. Her posture straightened.

  Mike checked his phone. There was a red exclamation point next to his text to Brice. It hadn’t sent. He tried again.

  “I don’t need a room tomorrow,” Miriam said through the toothy grin. “I need one tonight. I spend a lot of money with your brand.”

  Mike took another step back from Miriam, sensing the building tension. Although he might have faced a lot of his fears in the last few hours, an angry woman wasn’t one of them.

  His attention moved back to the television. “Excuse me,” he said to Miriam and her adversary. He moved quickly to the television in the lounge and tried to focus on the scrolling yellow banner at the bottom as its pronouncements moved from right to left. It was too hard to ignore Miriam, though. Her voice was getting louder as if the hidden television remote were controlling her volume instead of the television’s.