by Jeff Olah
Standing at the hall closet, retrieving his firearm, belt, and vest, Ethan stopped to peer over David’s shoulder. People running. Chasing one another. Fighting. Attacking. Broken windows. Flames shooting from cars and street level businesses. “What the hell are you watching?”
No response.
Kicking the back of the couch Ethan yelled, “DAVID.”
His friend did not turn away from the television, he instead waved Ethan over. “You need to see this.”
“I am seeing it, but what is this? People rioting? And where is that, New York?”
David nodded. “Yeah, New York, Chicago, Miami, and Houston, but it looks like the West Coast is getting the worst of it. Whatever this is, I mean they don’t really know what it is, but people are losing their minds— they’re killing each other for no reason.”
“Who?”
“Everyone, I don’t know. I don’t think anyone knows.”
Ethan moved to the window. “What are the local stations saying?”
“Nothing.”
“Whatta ya mean?”
“They’re all off the air.”
6
The doors to the bus parted as the last of the guards and the men in hazmat suits filed out of the building. They weren’t quite running, but their hurried pace drew the attention of the twenty-five women. Cora turned to Trish as the last few trickled out into the parking lot. “Trish, what’s happening, why are they—”
“Just get on the bus and stay as close to the front as you can.”
“Why aren’t they telling us anything? I asked why we were being moved and all they’d tell me is that this place isn’t safe. But why, why isn’t it safe?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Trish said. “Just get on the bus and keep your eyes open.”
“For what, why won’t you tell me what happened? I know that you know why they’re doing this. I thought we were friends, don’t you think—”
“Listen, the less you know about this, the better. No one really knows for sure what this thing is anyway, so they’d just be guessing.”
“This thing?”
“Alright,” Trish said. “People are getting sick, like really crazy sick. It started with those newbs they brought in last night. Three of them had these really high fevers, like something that should have killed them.”
“What?”
“Yeah, the nursing staff was trying to make them comfortable and give them something for the fever, but they were going nuts. They started attacking the nurses and each other. I was on my last rounds when a few of them came through the door and into the hall. They started coming after me.”
“This doesn’t make any sense. What did you do?”
“What I always do. I took the first one to the ground and held her there until the guards came and took her away. The second one jumped on my back and the guards took care of her. I got a few bumps and bruises in the process, but I’ll be fine.”
“So,” Cora said. “They’re taking us and putting us on buses because a few people are sick? That doesn’t make any sense. Why not just get some doctors in here and take care of them?”
Trish pointed to the men at the doors of the bus, now removing their yellow suits and said, “See those guys?”
“Yeah.”
“Those men are the only reason you and I are able to get on this bus. They’re not doctors, but we are way past that point anyway. I heard them talking and this thing is way bigger than just this place. These sick people are everywhere, so just get on the bus and thank God they didn’t lock you in your cell.”
“Where are they taking us?”
“At this point, it doesn’t really matter.”
A male’s voice from just beyond the front of the line called for attention. “Listen up ladies. Nothing has changed. You will get on, take a seat where we tell you, and you will shut your mouths. If anyone has a problem with that, you are welcome to stay here, but I wouldn’t recommend it.” He paused briefly, stepped out away from the bus, glaring up and down the line. “Anybody have a problem?”
No one spoke
“Good.”
The four mystery men, followed by the six female guards, boarded first. They nodded to the driver, another rough looking older gentleman, as they moved up the two steps and into the aisle. The men took the first two rows and the guards filed in behind, with only two taking a seat at the rear of the bus.
As the line began to move, Cora looked back at the main building and over at Trish. “Here we go.”
“Remember what I said, you need to take a seat as close to the front as you can. When we stop, you get off as quick as you can. Don’t wait for me.”
“Wait for you?”
Trish stiffened. “I’m going to the back of the bus. I don’t have a choice. They’re saying my temperature is borderline. And—”
“And?”
“It could be nothing, but they aren’t taking any chances. They said I could stay here or sit in the back. You already know what I chose.”
The line again moved forward and Cora reached back, grabbing Trish’s hand. It was warm and moist to the touch. She smiled nervously as they stepped onto the bus and took a seat behind the three rows of guards, noticing her friend wince as the two parted. Looking down at her hand, Cora was left with fragments of dried blood she assumed somehow belonged to her best friend.
The guard to her right, attempting to get a head count, motioned toward the right side of the aisle. “Adams, take a seat.”
Figuring the current circumstances may afford her the opportunity to dig a bit deeper, Cora allowed the woman if front of her to slide in and she took the seat facing out. Addressing the guard, she said, “What’s going on? You guys aren’t telling us any—”
“No questions, just sit there and keep your mouth shut.”
“But, you haven’t—”
“I’ll tell you what, you want some answers? Get the hell off my bus, go back across that parking lot, and check it out for yourself? I guarantee you’ll wish you stayed in that seat.”
“Thanks,” Cora said. “That clears things up.”
The guard shook her head and turned back to her head count as the last few women moved into their seats. “Ms. Adams, don’t forget your place. I won’t tell you again.”
As the bus shifted into gear and began to pull away from the curb, a few errant gasps pulled Cora’s attention back to the facility. The lights in the distance near the yard were the first to blink out, followed in quick succession by the numbered buildings one at a time until the entire sixty acre property sat in darkness. “Huh?”
. . .
Unable to remember exactly when she’d fallen asleep, Cora leaned to the side and peered out the front windshield. “Wow.” The sun hadn’t yet made its appearance, although it lit the morning just enough for her to see that they’d nearly reached the valley. She estimated it was less than an hour since they pulled away, however it felt as if she’d slept for three days.
The small town in the distance sat quiet as the bus sped along the two lane road, rounding one hairpin after another. Tiny lights from the valley below twinkled and then faded out as they moved from one grouping of trees to the next. Cora twisted in her seat and attempted eye contact with her friend, only to be blocked by two of the larger men.
They appeared to be struggling with one of the more unruly passengers, although Cora couldn’t get a glimpse of exactly who it was. “Better them than me.”
Before rounding the next turn, Cora turned back around. Partially hidden through the muted morning light, a blacked-out SUV sat less than one hundred feet away, and positioned along the middle of the road, its headlights stared back.
Instinctively sliding down in her seat and pulling her legs to her chest, Cora closed her eyes. Placing her head between her knees, she took a deep breath and braced for impact. “Please, please, please.”
7
Out the front doors of his building and into the street, it was surprisingly quiet for this
time of the morning. Other than the single alarm sounding from somewhere at the other end of town, you’d think the entire city was dead. According to David, they were more than thirty minutes behind schedule; however, as Ethan reminded his friend, “This wasn’t something that a few shortcuts through town couldn’t fix.”
“Yeah,” David said, “I’m sure your sister will absolutely feel the same way.”
“Emma will be fine, she always is.”
“That’s all good and everything and you may be cool with being one write up away from the unemployment line, but I need this job. I mean I’m completely grateful for you hooking me up, but I really do need this.”
“No worries, I’ll just call… damn it!”
“What now?” David said.
“I forgot my phone, but it really wouldn’t have mattered anyway; the battery was dead before I even fell asleep last night.”
“Let’s just get to the truck and you can use mine to call her.”
“Can’t.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know her number,” Ethan said. “It’s in my phone, but I can’t remember the last time I actually had to dial it.”
“Great,” David said. “So this will actually be our last day of work. Oh well, it was nice while it lasted.”
Ethan shook his head and continued up the long block toward Old Bridge Road before turning onto Second Street. Reaching the newly constructed building, he walked through the door and hurried up the stairs to the second floor.
Working for the man who employed his sister had its privileges. Directly reporting to her was not one of those perks. He and David were brought on a little over six months before when a large donation was made to their humble city in exchange for the benefactor’s anonymity. The company, and more precisely the man behind the company, demanded to remain in the shadows.
. . .
Ethan’s sister Emma moved back to town for exactly thirty days, to meet with the building commission and the bank manager and to ensure the transition played out exactly as planned. She was also assigned the responsibility of reporting back on the construction of the two adjoining structures.
First City Bank more than doubled its square footage and for the first time, owned a vault that would accommodate more than two people at a time. The building attached to the bank’s west wall, and also built by the mystery investor, offered only one office and a reception desk that sat along the expansive second floor. The first floor was nothing more than a few potted plants and three severely uncomfortable leather chairs.
Only days before his sister’s arrival, she proposed a plan to pull Ethan out of his yearlong depression. She offered him one of only three jobs within this small satellite office. He would drive an armored truck from the lot behind the bank into the city, load into the armored vehicle whatever he was asked, and without making a single stop, he’d deliver the load back to the bank and then be done for the day.
As Ethan reluctantly agreed to take the job, he had one request. He asked that Emma also bring on his best friend and pay him twice what he was making. He knew David wanted to start a family and presumed that the man in charge of this operation had unlimited resources. Their meager salaries would be of little concern to a company worth millions.
Emma agreed without a second thought. She set them up with uniforms, two armored vehicles (one black and one white) to be driven on alternate days, and three weeks of basic weapons training. The day she said goodbye, she handed them each a new utility belt, an Austrian born Glock 17, and a “Welcome to BXF Technologies” handbook.
The uniforms were fine—at least he wouldn’t have to worry about choosing what to wear every day and for Ethan, driving the massive vehicles was as much fun as one could have while still getting paid. Also, never having to worry about some of the more serious traffic infractions had its appeal, within reason.
His sister explained that he must do whatever he had to do to get his route completed by five in the afternoon. This must happen each and every shift, without exception. If he and David had to work through their lunch, then so be it. If they had to start earlier in the morning, that was okay too. If they needed to avoid pausing at every single stop sign, she wouldn’t ask them any questions. If there were any problems, she promised to personally have them taken care of. Ethan just needed to make sure he got his job done. Every. Single. Day.
Ethan was in no position to decline the job offer, even though that’s exactly what his gut told him to do. Over the last six months, he’d given his sister more than enough reasons to find someone else—anyone else for the position. His sights were elsewhere and everyone could see it.
Three days before she arrived in town, the siblings spoke on the phone for over two hours. He later told her that if he’d known what she was calling about, he would have never taken her call. She told him that she’d do most of the talking and that this was one conversation where he really needed to listen, even if he didn’t want to. “Ethan—Mom, Dad, and I have waited long enough for you to bounce back. But now we need you to meet us halfway. We love you and are worried about you. This is as good an opportunity as you’re going to get.”
. . .
Ethan’s life collapsed the day his fiancée left town. There was no warning, no goodbyes, and no time for him to come to terms with the loss. The two never spoke again and as he attempted to put the pieces back together, his upcoming position as deputy sheriff was eliminated due to budget constraints.
As the days turned to weeks and he continued to freefall into depression, Ethan received a phone call that would forever change his life. He was told that his father had suffered a heart attack coming down the mountain and had completely lost control of his truck. The tree he plowed into was older than the valley itself, and after eight hours of intensive surgery, he received the first bit of good news in over a year. His father would live.
Exactly sixty-one days later, the final two blows were handed down, each more devastating than the one before.
His father needed to move closer to where his rehab facility was located, in the city. The drive back and forth, three times per week, was doing as much damage to his mother’s health as it was healing his father. This would mean he’d only see them every other weekend; however, with as much as he’d lost in the last year, he still had his sister. And the very next day, that was also taken away.
After more than six years of working to complete her bioengineering degree, and then flying around the country for interviews, Emma received the job offer of a lifetime. A company with deeply rooted ties to the military and government demanded that she join their team out on the West Coast within the month. She couldn’t say no.
Her conversation with Ethan went as well as could be expected. What she couldn’t foresee was how much further he’d sink in the coming months. They spoke nearly every single day and she came back to town as often as she could manage. It was never enough, not for her and definitely not for him.
. . .
The day Emma returned to officially offer him the job, her brother appeared older. Not his physical appearance, but the way he carried himself. His outward demeanor. He was friendly, he finally laughed again. He was having fun with life, and many nights too much fun. Life had beaten down the thirty-eight-year-old man who she grew up idolizing, but for the first time in a long time, Ethan looked happy.
He was softened by the things that kicked and punched him, but he was a man. He looked at things with a much different eye now, but knew what he wanted and initially that didn’t include a job driving a truck full of someone else’s money.
He agreed to do what his sister asked, but only until the sheriff’s office had another position available. The experience he gained through this opportunity may just look good on a resume, even if he had to list his sister as his supervisor.
8
Dropping out of the sky as the sun began its forward push along the West Coast, the unnerving turbulence pulled Emma from the fitful nap she’d succu
mbed to less than an hour earlier. As her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit rear cabin, she straightened in her seat, brushed her hair from her face, and glanced the two side tables.
As her world crystalized, she reached for her phone, entered her password, and noticed the lack of reception the plane’s interior offered. “Great.”
As the jet banked right, the first hint of what was to come appeared through the window on the opposite side of the plane. Not more than a few miles from where they were to touch down, the city streets were a virtual war zone. From an altitude of less than three-thousand feet, spot fires peppered the urban landscape, only to be eclipsed by the countless number of vehicles attempting to flee the area.
As the Gulfstream continued its descent, Emma stretched the exhaustion from her back, legs, and arms. With one hand braced against the right wall, she stood and started for the cockpit. Moving past the stainless-steel-trimmed appliance stack, and dual coffee makers, she was greeted by the flight’s Private Concierge.
He was good looking, but not intimidating. He smiled, although only enough to make certain he had her full attention. His voice came out of the dimly lit galley in a calm and professional tone. He slid closed the cockpit privacy divider and held out his hand as Emma approached. “Ms. Runner, is there something I can get for you? We are actually about to land.”
“Have the pilots seen what is happening out there?”
“Yes, we are all very aware of the situation. We’ve been re-routed to Burbank and have a car waiting for you.”
“Have you spoken to Mr. Goodwin? He’s going to want to know—”
“Yes Ms. Runner, he’s instructed us to get you to your destination and wait for our next assignment.”
“Next assignment? It looks like Armageddon down there. Why don’t we just fly somewhere else?”
“Well, there isn’t anywhere else. Burbank is the only alternative, the only one still taking flights, aside from LAX.”
