by Cade Brogan
PatientZero.com
ARMAGEDDON VIRUS CLAIMS LIVES AT AN ALARMING RATE
Authorities declined to comment on the number of deaths from The Armageddon Virus other than to admit that that number is climbing at an alarming rate. Heed Public Health warnings and stay inside. We will continue to post updates as they become available.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Rylee stopped by the precinct to pick up Claire, speeding to the Medical Examiner’s Office, and arriving a few minutes behind schedule. She reached into her breast pocket as they stepped toward the building, retrieving the small container of Vicks that she always carried with her. “Here,” she offered, “you want some?”
“Sure,” Claire said, popping open the tin, dabbing a glob under her nose, and passing it back to her. “Thanks. My training officer introduced me to this, but I never seem to remember to buy it.”
“Mine too,” Rylee said, thinking that maybe she wasn’t so bad. She nodded toward the stone-cold woman behind the glass. “She’s new,” Rylee said, “definitely not the caliber of the last one.”
“Detective Hayes,” the receptionist greeted, her eyes darting over her cat-eye glasses, spectacles that reminded Rylee of Joanna Grey, not a good thing when it came to relationship building.
“Afternoon,” Rylee answered. “I don’t believe you’ve met my new partner, Detective Claire Robbins.”
“No,” the bird-like woman responded. “And unless I misread the announcement, she just started. So, when exactly would I have had the chance to meet her?”
Rylee smiled. Bitch.
Phyllis turned toward Claire, holding her gaze for a chilling instant. “Phyllis Sorrensen. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Likewise,” Claire said, shifting her stance.
Phyllis pursed her lips, tipping her nose toward a posted notice.
Rylee smiled a hard smile, flipping her ID open, holding it up for two seconds, and returning it to her pocket.
“Yeah, sure,” Claire said, fumbling for hers, and pressing it against the glass.
Phyllis’ eyes narrowed, studying the small print. Once satisfied that she’d established dominance, she activated the intercom. “Dr. Holmes…Your one o’clock has arrived.”
“Right on time,” Ben answered. Regardless of what was going on around him, or if his appointment was ten minutes late, you could always hear the smile in his voice. “Please, send them on back.”
Phyllis nodded curtly. “You may go on back.”
“Thanks,” Rylee responded, leading the way down the extra wide corridor.
“Big place,” Claire commented, twitching her nose as they passed the third autopsy room on the left.
“It is,” Rylee said. “Has to be to crank out as many autopsies as they crank out.”
“I hear ya,” Claire said, slowing her pace as Ben stepped into the hallway.
“I’m afraid you’re not going to like much of what we have to share with you,” he greeted, pulling a fourth chair to the round table in the corner of his large office.
“Oh, I’m sure we won’t,” Rylee responded, “especially if what you’re gonna say confirms what’s all over the news, that this thing is more contagious than it was yesterday.”
“Unfortunately, that’s the case,” Ben responded. “It’s too bad that someone had to take it upon themselves to release that information. Some things are better kept close to the breast. We’d already announced that the virus was extremely contagious and issued the strongest of warnings. That’s all that mattered. There was no reason to release details that few understand, no reason to scare them to death.”
“Yeah, but leaks happen,” Rylee said, helping herself to a cup of coffee. “Not much you can do about it.”
“Dr. Holmes… Dr. Mathews just called to advise that he’s running approximately fifteen minutes late.”
Ben pressed the button that activated his intercom. “Thanks, Phyllis. Just send him on back.”
“Will do.” And with that, the connection was terminated.
“Looks like we have a few minutes,” Rylee responded, walking around his desk to study the collection of photographs in his cabinet. “I remember when this was taken,” she said, taking a sip.
Ben chuckled, coming up behind her. “That weekend we all went fly fishing.”
“Yep,” Rylee said, her mood lifting with the distraction. “You, Millie, Grams, Gramps, me and my mom.” She released a breath, recalling what her mom had been like before she’d had her first breakdown. “We had to catch as many species as we could in like twenty-four hours.”
“That’s right,” Ben said, “because we were in a tournament.”
Rylee smiled at the photograph. “And if I remember right, you caught a big ol’ greenback cutthroat.”
Ben lifted his chin. “Eighteen inches.”
“At least,” Rylee answered. “And I caught a bluegill and a sunfish.” She shook her head. “Tops, six inches.”
“You were young,” Ben said, “still learning to bait your own hook.”
Rylee nodded, enjoying the memory.
“Boy-oh-boy,” Ben continued, “that trout was a beauty, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, he was,” Rylee responded, smiling broadly. “And I have plans to catch one just like him before I kick the bucket.” And with those words, teeth sunk into the pit of her stomach, and her smile faded. “Well,” she continued, checking her watch, “I suppose we should sit down and get to work.”
“Yes, Walt should be here shortly, but we may as well try to accomplish something,” Ben said, opening his notebook. “We all have a lot on our plate, more than we know what to do with.” He slid two copies of a four-page document across the table. “It’ll be a few days before we can get you our reports, but I thought a bullet summary of our findings might be helpful.”
“It is,” Rylee said, “thanks. Having something, anything, in writing helps a lot.”
“And,” Ben continued, “I took the liberty of summarizing some of the CDC’s information as well.” He smiled, handing Rylee a second document. “I thought you might appreciate a cheat sheet.”
“Oh my gosh, thanks,” Rylee responded. “How cool, a cheat sheet in layman’s language.” It’d been a challenge wading through all the unfamiliar scientific jargon. “Thanks so much.”
“You’re welcome,” Ben said. “Just trying to make a difficult case a bit easier.”
“You did,” Rylee responded, sliding the paper to Claire.
She startled when the paper touched her wrist. “Oh…thanks,” she said, turning the document to read it.
“Cool, huh?”
“Yes, yes, it is.”
*
Claire quickened her pace, keeping up with Rylee as they moved through the ultramodern forensic laboratory. “Wow, this is some place.”
“Yeah,” Rylee answered, increasing her stride. “Got updated last year. Supposed to be one of the most comprehensive crime labs in the country. They do pretty much everything here, examine DNA, analyze fingerprints, you name it. If you want, we’ll come over for a tour once things settle down.” Rylee slowed, looking over when she didn’t respond. “Did you hear me?”
“Yeah,” Claire said, “yeah I heard you. That sounds great.”
“Okay, so I don’t mean to pry,” Rylee said, stepping through the fire door, “but is everything okay? It seems like something’s bothering you, not that that’s a big surprise with everything that’s going on, but still...”
“Got a couple of things on my mind.”
“I’m sure.”
“Nothing to worry about. I’m fine.”
“Okay, just checking,” Rylee said, nodding toward an oversized sign on the wall—Biohazard containment area. “And that’s where we’re going,” she announced.
*
“So, what have you got?” Rylee asked.
“Not finished yet,” the senior crime technician responded, “but I definitely have discovered things you’re gonna be inter
ested in.”
Rylee made eye contact. “Frank Hopper, Claire Robbins. Claire, Frank.” She stepped closer as they exchanged greetings. “So, tell us what you know,” she continued, “starting with my step daughter's cell phone.”
“Afraid I don’t have much on that,” Frank answered, pointing. “Two phones in the middle bag. Your step-kid was one of ‘em. That’s all I know.”
“You know just enough,” Rylee responded, catching Claire’s eye as she broke a thin smile. “That means she took her phone. Abby’s not answering because Piper took her friggin’ cell phone.” She studied the lineup of bags on the shiny table. “Definitely high-end bags,” she commented. “Not ones you’d pick up at a discount medical supply store, that’s for sure.”
“Just like I told ya,” Claire responded, knowing that when Elizabeth bought something for her practice, it was the best. She bit her lip, trying to remember the last time she’d seen her with the one she’d ordered before they left Boston. “I think they price out at around three-hundred, give or take twenty.”
“That’s a pretty expensive bag for a kid to carry around,” Rylee said. “I know one kid whose parents wouldn’t have shelled out twenty bucks for it, let alone three-hundred. Interesting that all three had the same one, right down to the zippers.”
Claire nodded, jotting down notes. “Maybe the bags were like a uniform,” she guessed. “But you’d think it’d been cheaper, easier, to have matching t-shirts or something. Don’t remember any of their outfits matching up.”
“Nope,” Frank responded, “they didn’t. Different colors and styles.” He maneuvered a buckle. “Check this out,” he added, clicking once to display a bag’s contents.
Rylee leaned in for a closer look, being careful not to touch. “Reminds me of a medic bag,” she said, “the kind they use in the military.”
“Pretty sure that’s who they’re designed for,” Claire responded.
“Interesting,” Rylee said, “that there’s a stack of magazines, and that’s all.” She looked up. “How about the others? Same contents?”
“Twenty-five copies in two,” Frank answered. “The other, the one found in the parking lot, was emptied out.”
“Maybe they were selling them,” Claire said, “and the one kid, the seventeen-year-old, sold out.”
“Maybe,” Rylee responded, “but selling them to mental health patients and nursing home folks? In the middle of the night? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Hang on a minute,” Claire said, opening her satchel, and retrieving the ME’s four-page document, “I want to check something.” She scanned, her gaze following her finger. “I thought so.”
Rylee perked up. “You thought what?”
“Oh, I was just thinking that Ben had mentioned something about finding paper dust in one of the kids’ nostrils,” Claire answered. “And he did, more in Piper’s than the others.”
“Interesting,” Rylee responded, “but I guess not unexpected considering how many magazines they had with them.” She waited for Frank to look up. “What kind of magazines are they? Have you taken any out for a look?”
“No,” Frank answered, “but that’s up next.”
“Okay, so how about we let you get to it,” Rylee responded. “And when you get a minute, hopefully soon, I need you to run GPS tracking on the phones.” She pointed to Abby’s. “Starting with that one.”
“Actually,” Frank said, his tone taking on a gentle quality, “I’m reconsidering. I think that’s what’s up next.”
“Thanks,” Rylee responded, stepping toward the door. “Call us.”
“Will do.”
*
Abby stepped away from the window, noticing the position of the sun—lower, its rays, softened. It had to be three, maybe four o’clock. She’d been there for what seemed like—f-o-r-e-v-e-r—watched the orange globe rise that morning from the very same spot. She flinched, pressing her knees together, and gyrated. Gotta go… Gotta go… So bad… Right now. Her abdomen, her bladder, her urethra were ablaze—burning, burning, burning—like the fires of Hell. “Gotta pee,” she whimpered, “gotta pee… so bad…right now.” She danced a rain dance around the perimeter of her cell. God... what am I gonna do? Gotta pee…Gotta pee … Gotta go so bad right now. She bounced on one foot and then the other. Gotta go… Gotta go… Gotta go. As she skipped around, her gaze locked on where a sump pump had been long before. She scurried over, touching the cold wall, and peering into what had to be the filthiest hole. But what if someone comes in? What if they see you? She crossed one ankle over the other. Oh, God…Oh, God…Oh, God. Then, she dropped her pants. The next time I see you, Piper Attwater, I may just kill you. Some initiation. I am so pissed. She fixed her gaze on where the doorknob would be if there were one, touched the wall for balance, and squatted. “Mmmmm…” Urine splattered, missing her shoes. “Mmmmmmmmmm…” Or maybe I should just kiss you. Yeah, I think I should kiss you. Piper Attwater. “Mmmmm…” Sounds like cows pissing on a flat rock. “Mmmmm…” She zipped her jeans, walked over to the cobwebbed wooden shelf, and collected two jars. “Beets or pickles?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Rylee checked her watch. “Come on, Frank, it’s been two hours. How long can it take to run one GPS report?”
“Must’ve hit a snag,” Claire responded, looking up from her CDC update. She’d printed it within moments of receiving an email notification that it was out. “Something urgent, I mean more urgent than us, had to have come up. Because it’s just not that hard to pull location data off a phone. I could almost do it myself.”
“Yeah, me too,” Rylee said, “but maybe not so easy in a mask and gloves.”
“Yeah, that’d be my hang-up as well.”
“But it shouldn’t have taken him this long,” Rylee continued, shaking her head slowly. “Even suited up, it just shouldn’t.”
Claire met her eye. “So, something else came up.”
“But I know he wouldn’t have put something else in front of us,” Rylee answered. “I just know it. I mean, Kenzie’s baked him pizzelles for Christmas. He was at our house on New Year’s Eve. He knows we’re worried sick about Abby. I just don’t think he’d put us off.”
Claire looked at her. “So, stop stewing and call him.”
“But it won’t do any good to interrupt him if he’s still working on it,” Rylee responded, dropping her gaze to the screen of her laptop, and looking back up. “I’m sure he’ll call the minute he’s done.”
“I’m sure he will,” Claire answered, rereading the line she’d read three times.
“No choice but to wait,” Rylee said, opening the list of scientists who’d traveled to hot zones during the previous year, with the years prior awaiting her attention. In two movements of the secondhand, she looked up again. “So, are you learning anything new over there?” she asked, shutting her laptop.
Claire marked her place. “Yes, and all of it is depressing.”
“Let me guess,” Rylee responded, “they’re saying the virus is more contagious.”
“Yep,” Claire said. “R-naught’s up from two-point-six to four-point-five.”
“I didn’t really get what that was at first,” Rylee said, “but now that I do, that scares me to death.”
“Yep, me too,” Claire responded. “And still no one with natural resistance. No one. Not one solitary person or Rhesus Monkey.”
“So, it’s basically everyone,” Rylee answered, “absolutely everyone is gonna be vulnerable.”
“Yep, every single person who gets it is gonna give it to four-point-five other people. And they’re predicting an R-naught of six by the weekend.”
“Shit. Six new cases for every infected person,” Rylee responded. “Depressing’s an understatement. It’s getting to the point where it’s downright terrifying.” She thought about Kenzie—Abby—her grandma—her grandpa—Rich—her mom—the people she loved.
“Yeah, terrifying,” Claire repeated quietly, “really, really terrifying.”
She bit her lip. “And even if we catch the doer today—”
“Which is unlikely.”
“With no vaccine, it’s gonna spread like wildfire.”
“Makes me want to lock Kenzie and Abby in the house,” Rylee said. “And order Grams and Gramps to stay home.”
“I’m sure,” Claire responded, her eyes losing focus.
Rylee sighed, checking her watch for the umpteenth time. “If I don’t get what he’s got pretty soon, I’m gonna run out of daylight.”
“What?”
“Abby,” Rylee said. “It’s gonna be harder if I have to follow her trail after dark.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “And we’ve checked every place I can think of, friends, relatives, favorite hangouts. I need that damn printout.” She stared down her phone, willing it to perform. “Come on, Frank, call me.”
“Okay, so you need to call him,” Claire said, looking up. “Come on, do it. You can’t think of anything else.”
“I know,” Rylee responded, dialing. She broke eye contact, listening to Frank explain what was left to be done. “Shit. So, how long’s that gonna take?”
Claire crossed her arms, watching. When Rylee hung up, she asked, “What?”
“That snag you were talking about,” Rylee answered, “the GPS and location services were turned off on all the phones. That’s what’s taking him so long.” She clenched her jaw, her eyes narrowing. “Abby knows better. And when I find her, and I will find her ass, she is so grounded.”
Claire furrowed her brow. “There’s gotta be something else he can try.”
“There is,” Rylee said, taking, and releasing a long breath. “He said he could tap into a mix of phone and non-phone sources, whatever that means, but that there was no way we’d get anything tonight.”
