Blood Harvest (7 page)

“Has anyone briefed you on what happened inside?”

“I have no details other than the fact that everyone is still alive.”

“They seem to be catatonic, whatever that means. All vital signs are stable and strong, no signs of any injury except for some bumps and bruises in those areas where they hit the floor.”

“Hit the floor?”

“Whatever happened here happened so fast that no one had time to react. There are no signs of panic, struggle or violence. It’s as if they were all plugged into a light socket and someone simply turned the switch to off and they fell where they stood.”

The description the Captain relayed was beginning to weigh on Steve.

“Who called this in?”

“A couple waiting outside the club said a fight broke out in line and the bouncers locked the doors to keep the skirmish from filtering into the club. The couple had friends inside and called the police. A black and white responded. Locking the doors of the club is an extreme violation of the fire laws and one that most clubs wouldn’t risk, so the officer decided to check it out. Eventually he forced the doors open and found everyone inside to be in their current state.”

A long moment passed before Steve spoke.

“Everyone?” was all he could manage.

“Not a single person inside isn’t in this condition. Everyone!”

“Damn,” Steve sighed under his breath.

“The Feds have got wind of it and want the whole area contained. It seems they are all afraid of something.”

“Something?” Steve repeated questioningly.

The Captain looked at Steve with the direst of expressions.

“Something, maybe, biological.”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat. There it was, laid out in plain words with more underlying meaning than could ever be spoken out loud. Terrorism. Insanity. Chaos. A hot zone of biological weaponry. All things which were out of his control and that should have been affecting him right now as he inhaled the night air. Like an unbidden thought intruding on his anticipation of impending doom, a wave of doubt entered his mind. He embraced the steadily growing doubt.

Pressing, the Captain asked, “Could they be right? About the biological stuff?”

“I’m no scientist or expert so I don’t really know, but…I mean… if it were what they’re supposedly afraid of, wouldn’t we all have dropped by now?”

Steve smiled to himself as the Captain had eloquently stated the exact doubt having entered his mind a moment ago.

“Has anyone else who arrived after the initial incident collapsed?”

“Nope, not even the officer who forced the doors earlier. Honestly, this feels more like some kind of federal spin factor as opposed to any continual danger.”

The two crossed the threshold of the club. Steve caught his breath as he saw the sheer number of alive but inanimate victims strewn throughout the interior of the nightclub. The smell was worse than the dumpster of rotting Chinese food he had parked next to earlier. More accurately it smelled like a morgue without proper ventilation. Steve had to constantly remind himself that the victims in this situation, despite all appearances to the contrary, were alive.

“How many?” Steve asked as the two began to step over bodies while crossing the dance floor.

“Nearly one thousand, well over the capacity set by the Fire Department. About three quarters of them were on this level, the rest are spread out among the second floor, the kitchen, and the basement. Don’t even get me started about the kind of disarray the people in the basement were in—looked like a cross between Sodom and Gomorrah meets the Hefner mansion. Oh, and there were the odd few in the restrooms and offices on the third floor.”

“Have the owners been notified? Can they shed any light?”

“One owner, no silent partners and he’s….” The Captain stopped, turned to look down at a group of bodies, spun around to another set across the room, then glanced ahead of where they were walking. “Over there in that group of poor souls, Phillip Devereaux, former concert promoter to the stars turned nefarious nightclub owner.

“I knew him. He would call me when he wanted some undesirables to stop darkening his doorstep.”

The Captain seemed taken aback, not only by the revelation, but by the candor with which Steve spoke. He grasped Steve’s arm and halted him in his tracks.

“You knew him officially or unofficially?” the Captain asked with a seriousness that might have turned anyone to stone who was unfamiliar with his intensity.

“Officially,” Steve grunted his reply while returning an indignant glare back at his superior. The response was, perhaps, a bit too aggressive; however, Steve knew his record while on the force was beyond reproach. The Captain knew it as well, which was probably the reason the insubordinate tone was overlooked as the Captain released his arm.

“Of course.” The Captain actually looked abashed. “Of course, it was official. Look who I’m talking to, after all.”

Anxious to change the subject Steve postulated, “It may be a stupid question, but does this have to be something sinister? I mean, could this have been an accident, like a broken gas pipe or something?”

“No. Gas, carbon monoxide or toxic fumes have other symptoms, manifestations and ultimately end in death. This bizarre comatose catatonia, or whatever, is just plain weird.”

The two stood in place and watched as paramedics from all over the city examined the sea of humanity noting each victim’s health status and identification. It was all so repetitive that Steve began to feel overwhelmed.

Finally, his head seemed to crest the pinnacle of the scene and fell squarely into detective mode.

“Why isn’t anyone being taken to the hospital?”

“Rule number one in federal containment: ‘Don’t spread the contamination beyond the hot zone.’ The feds say they’re shipping doctors and equipment here and instructed us to set up triage for when the docs arrive.

Steve nodded. It would have been a sound strategy if it were some sort of biological outbreak or attack. Steve felt almost certain that it wasn’t.

“All right, let’s say this was a deliberate act. What is the motive? Why would anyone do this?”

The Captain’s face turned instantly from melancholy to a challenging grin as he slid comfortably into a professorial mode Steve knew very well.

“What reason can you think of Detective?”

This was a type of game they played. Actually, it was a very effective way of sorting through mountains of information in order to come up with working theories, but the two of them had turned it into an exercise long ago. Steve closed his eyes and took in a deep breath of foul air. His mind raced through the possibilities, motives, rationales, until finally he found what he felt to be the most likely answers.

“Terrorism, revenge, or ransom; I believe the most likely of the three would be ransom.”

“Ransom??!” Apparently the Captain hadn’t thought of that one. He had nodded along with the first two suggestions and looked eager for an explanation regarding the third.

“Terrorists would have a new way to affect the well-being of huge groups of people. This technique would eliminate the need for primitive car bombings; however, where there is life there is hope. Terrorist goals involve the taking away of hope to replace it with fear. The otherwise apparent well-being of the victims makes this an ineffective vehicle for terrorists.”

The Captain nodded absently with the explanation.

Steve continued, “Revenge kind of makes sense except the act is too general with too many unrelated people involved.”

“What about revenge against the club or its owners?” The Captain interjected.

Steve could tell the Captain was testing him.

“A direct shot at the club through arson or demolition could have been accomplished when the club was empty, thereby, not endangering such a large number of people. This wasn’t an attack against the revenue production of the owners. This was an attack directly on the people who work and frequent the club. In fact, I get the impression that the person or persons responsible for this wanted the club intact, maybe to move in and pick up the pieces now that the owners are incapacitated.”

“As in a hostile takeover of a sort?” the Captain sounded doubtful.

“Yeah, I think that sounds a little far fetched too.”

“Okay, so what about the “ransom” theory?”

“Well, let’s suppose someone did loose a biological agent in here. It dispersed quickly or broke down into something harmless in seconds after its release, but was in a viable state long enough to knock everyone into a catatonic state.”

“Go on.” The Captain began to look intrigued.

“Well, if this is something new, like an anesthetic or something, maybe whoever developed it has some kind of reversal agent.”

“Reversal agent?”

“I know that may be an overdramatic term, but you understand what I mean.”



“So you think the doctors won’t be able to revive these people?”

“No. I don’t see this case coming to such an easy ending.”

“But you do think we will ultimately hear from someone who will provide the antidote for a price?”

A moment passed as Steve seemed to think about his answer.

“Yes, that is pretty much what I think is going to happen. The thought of over 1,000 people being held hostage inside their own bodies would make a lot of friends and relatives very adamant about the city paying whatever it takes to get the antidote. Whoever did this wants something so they left everyone alive. Why do that? Why go to all the effort of doing this without any benefit to yourself?”

“Maybe they did it for the thrill?”

“No, I think there was a method to their madness. Look who was in the club. Celebrities, yuppies and well-to-do people in general are here nightly. Even if there were no direct target, any given night would have delivered famous and affluent patrons. These are people who have the means to buy their way out of a predicament faster than we can figure it out.”

The look of interest dissolved from the Captain’s face, replaced by a look of concern.

“Jesus. We have to make sure we keep a lid on this. If word gets out that this whole thing is about money then whoever did this will probably get privately paid off and be inspired to repeat himself.”

A whole new weight seemed to drop squarely on the Captain’s shoulders. He forced himself to scan the club. Steve thought he was trying to get a feel for the sheer size of the situation when he saw the Captain’s face turn to intense rage.

“You!” he screamed as he launched himself forward, vaulting over catatonic club goers.

As he ran, the Captain pointed at a paramedic across the dance floor from where he and Steve had been standing. Steve erupted into motion as well, although for the moment he wasn’t sure why.

When the paramedic saw the Captain charging at him his eyes bulged in fright and he began to move quickly toward one of the rear exits.

“Officers, stop that man! Bring him down now!” the Captain bellowed.

The few uniformed officers who had been standing near the dance floor hesitated slightly before springing into action. The medic tried to run as the officers closed in around him.

Steve made a break to the right in order to cut off a potential escape route. He still didn’t know what was going on, but he trusted the Captain’s instincts. It was then that he saw the medic was holding something small and metallic in his closed right hand.

Steve was about to yell “gun” when an officer dove for the medic, reaching for his ankles, missed by centimeters and came crashing down on the hardwood dance floor. The medic’s face resembled the mask of a trapped animal knowing it was about to get caught. Without warning, and with considerable effort, the medic threw the metallic object against the nearest wall. The object cracked into the wall and broke into a few large pieces.

“I guess it wasn’t a gun,” Steve thought.

Two officers tackled the medic with brute force, taking him to the ground. The rest of the uniformed officers swarmed on top of the three men on the ground as Steve slowed to a walk and stopped just outside of the violent dog pile of men. He turned on his heel and walked over to the area where the metallic object had been thrown.

The Captain stormed angrily over to the medic who had been seriously roughed up in a matter of seconds by multiple officers who already had him in handcuffs and back on his feet.

“Who were you talking to?!” the Captain roared.

The question surprised Steve. He never heard the medic say a word. Then he looked down at the large metallic pieces that lay in close proximity by his feet and understood.

There were about five pieces of what used to be a cellular phone. Steve collected the pieces and walked back over to where the Captain was hollering at the medic.

“I said, who were you talking to?”

Terror filled the eyes of the medic who looked as if at any moment he might start to cry. The Captain had that effect on people when he wanted.

"No one! I swear!” the man begged.

“Listen asshole, this isn’t second grade and the ‘I don’t know’ answers aren’t going to fly. I saw you with the cell phone to your ear and I saw you talking into it. This area has been sealed off with no information to leave the scene!” The Captain ripped the I.D. badge off of the lapel of the medic’s white paramedic shirt.