Cold Silence (15 page)

“I'm disappointed in you, Chris,” Burke said.

“Yes, sir.”

“You were there. You stood right beside him. You could have stopped it, or tried to, and you said nothing.”

“I have no excuse.”

“Goddamnit, Chris. I trusted you.”

“I know. I know. You did. You're right.”

“You said you'd control him.”

“I did.”

This was the instant he'd decide our fate. Maybe her agreeing saved us. Maybe Burke liked her to start with. Maybe he figured, if I lock away one, I have to punish all. Or maybe he was the type who wanted to spend his rage verbally. In any event, I felt the smallest hint of his fury subsiding, the faintest whiff of second chance.

Considering what he could have done to us, what he did was small.

“You're off the unit,” he said. “Rush? Nakamura? You'll work as medical doctors for the duration. I need doctors with experience and that's the only reason you're not in jail. If you come out of this alive,” he said, “we'll talk about what happens to you next. No travel. No investigations. You'll be at a hospital, and if you don't stay there, I don't care how much experience you have, I'll bury you. Rush? You did just what I expected. Chris? You didn't, and for that, I'm sad. You're not qualified to supervise anyone. You're out. You'll be local, too. No investigation work.”

He clicked off.

I asked Ray, “Where are we going?”

“Don't you know?
You
helped write the protocol, Joe.
Never use local troops in an outbreak. They may have relatives in town and be reluctant to use force.
We're headed for the capital. It's under semilockdown.”

Eddie frowned. “My family is in Boston.”

“You should have thought of that before. It hit Capitol Hill, FedEx Field, even some kids from a high school science fair. Washington's the worst.”

Chris gasped. “
Which high school?
”

“Wilson.”

Chris groaned and leaned forward and tried to draw her hands in to protect her stomach. The cuffs prevented that.

Ray Havlicek sighed. “This isn't the way anyone figured it could happen.”

“It never is,” said Eddie.

“Wikileaks? The war games never included Wikileaks
.
Fucking Wikileaks!” said Ray.

Chris whispered, “Aya.”

Chris was shaking in her
seat.

Just before the food riot started, Admiral Galli was showing us around Washington.

The troops had turned it into a different city. The buildings were the same, but the feel was like one of those permanent Hollywood sets, where the mood changes each time a different film is shot. One day love on the rooftops. The next, same rooftops, but revolution. Until now, D.C. had existed as a stage for power or calculation, importance and glitter. But the few faces in the street, mostly covered by surgical masks; the shuttered shops; idling police cars; and ambulances stationed in traffic circles beneath snow-dusted statues of dead generals—it all reflected raw fear.

“Airport and Amtrak closed while they revamp travel rules,” Galli said. “We're assigned to Georgetown University Medical Center. The school is evacuated and the dorms are for doctors and their families. Burke's the city's Outbreak Czar. But the thing is spreading faster than our ability to track it. Joe and Eddie, emergency room. Chris and me, logistics.”

“I want to help,” Aya said. “I'm a good researcher, Mom. You said! And I'm good with science!”

“Just being here with me is help,” said Chris.

“I mean
really
help!”

Chris put her arm around Aya. She and Chris sat beside me in the backseat. Chris was still trying to get over the shocks: terror that Aya had been sent to the hospital, delight when she'd found out that Aya had been released, pronounced clean, and then both joy and fury when the admiral showed up with the girl, outside protected hospital grounds. Galli saying that he'd refused Aya's pleadings—
let me come with you—
initially, but Aya had argued, wept, followed him to his car, said she could get sick just as easily inside the grounds as out, and Galli—a soft touch sometimes, and overconfident in the military's ability to do its mission sometimes—
protecting citizens
—had given in.

“I can't believe you took her,” Chris had raged.

“Mom, don't blame him. I made him do it.”

“You are fifteen years old and he's an admiral, for God's sake. What if the car breaks down! There's a twenty-five percent mortality rate if you get sick!”

Galli soothed, “There are troops all over. She won't be in contact with the sick. If we break down, we call for help, Chris. The city is quiet and she was frantic. She needed to see you. She's had a bad time.”

“Don't tell me what my daughter needs!”

I liked Aya. She was smart and had guts. Despite Chris's rage, the mother and daughter had broken into happy tears when they saw each other. The admiral had ordered us to stay in the car, no matter what we saw outside.

Washington's avenues were as quiet as back alleys. Government buildings, State Department, Interior, open to essential personnel only, on a limited schedule, with most federal workers on
“temporary holiday.” Marines on corners. Museum Row deserted; the Air and Space Museum and Smithsonian Castle as empty as on Christmas. No tourist busses at the monuments. Gas stations shut by mayoral order. A tenth of the usual traffic on the road.

Galli said, “Once we get to the hospital complex, you need a pass to get out. Anyone working with patients has to get a blood test once a day.”

“What about
my
family? Can I bring them in?” asked Eddie. His voice was low and anguished, and he stared out the window at unplowed slush on the road.

The admiral sighed. “Boston's clean, Eddie. Not one case so far.”

Eddie mumbled, “So far.”

Galli smoothly steered his 4Runner along downtown. K Street was semideserted at midday, when normally you'd see reporters, lawyers, and lobbyists. The White House looked like a giant mausoleum. Lafayette Park, always the site of one political demonstration or another—
U.S. Out of Afghanistan—
was empty. Aya divided her attention between the sights and a tablet on which she relayed news or rumors or sent nonstop reports to friends. She was a fountain of unofficial information.

“Japan just blocked all flights from the U.S.,” she said.

“When the news broke, there was lots of crazy speculation,” Galli said. “That the Bible Virus is worse than Ebola. That it spreads by touch, air, food. That thousands more deaths have been covered up. Creech wiped out. Tehran responsible.” His gray eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. “Some people on the Hill want war.”

“Against whom?”

“Whoever they wanted to fight before this started.”

I asked, “The
Bible
Virus?”

“That's what Fox TV dubbed it.”

“It's not a virus. It's bacteria,” grumped Eddie.

The admiral shrugged. “Most people couldn't care less about
the difference. All they want to know is if they'll catch it. The talking heads had a field day. Conspiracy theories. Maps of worst-case spread. Twenty thousand dead. A hundred thousand. Double by Thursday.”

“For all we know, possible,” said Eddie.

More cars than usual were parked by the Islamic Center on Mass Ave.—ringed with guards—and outside the National Cathedral on Wisconsin. I stared at the retreating towers of the cathedral, an idea tugging at me, but it remained out of reach.

Galli wore a blue Northern Outfitter parka and Merrill boots and a stocking cap. He looked fit for a man in his sixties, and had the heat dialed up. We hit a bump and his glasses went askew. But he was one of those guys who carried quiet authority. He didn't need a uniform to wield it. Exiled in his own city, he had lost no stature. Plus here, half the time, out of power means comeback. You take people seriously when they're out of power. Galli's personality was so strong that you'd take him seriously if he was lying in bed with a fever.

“I'm fired, but not dead,” he said. “We're not just going to sit around. We can call Havlicek or Burke or at least reach out to their staffs if we think of something. And Aya's pretty good at social media. Hell, she learns more from that little tablet of hers than I get from CNN.”

Aya beamed. “See? I can help!”

“Building morale, Admiral?” Eddie said sourly.

“Can the tone, Marine.”

“We're out of it. And how will we find out anything if we're stuck at the hospital anyway?”

Galli studied him in the mirror. Eddie was sick with worry for his family. “No, Eddie, we're private citizens, who can do what we want, off duty, as long as we don't get in their way. We still have minds. We can think. Frankly, I'm not thrilled with the direction the investigation was taking. They're not looking beyond the usual
suspects. They made a decision early based on outbreak pattern. Americans in a Muslim country. Air base. Soft targets.
Islamic terrorists.
I'm not saying they're wrong. But they're sticking to scripts. No harm in considering other possibilities.”

Eddie said, “In case you forgot, Secretary Shithead said stay put and keep out of it.”

“Watch your language,” snapped Chris, glancing at her daughter, who was texting and only half listening, or maybe listening to ten things at the same time. “Aya, you must have been terrified when they quarantined you.”

The girl looked up. “Teddy Simon got sick, his whole family did. So all the kids got hauled into Georgetown. But they released us after two days, except for Teddy.”

“How is Teddy?”

Aya teared up and looked six years old. “His whole family is dead! They went to that Redskins game. All the first cases were there!”

We reached Connecticut Avenue at the Calvert Street Bridge, and beneath the lion statue I saw three figures beating up a fourth lying in the snow, right in the open. The attackers surrounded him, their boots angling back and forth. They wore ski jackets and balaclavas with surgical masks over their mouths. They were bulked-up thugs or self-appointed militia, or maybe they were using the emergency to pay back a debt, or rob. It looked like the city wasn't as orderly as Galli said.

“Stop the car!” I said.

“No. We're uninfected and we keep it that way.”

“You can't just leave that guy!”

“Call 911,” Galli said, hitting the accelerator.

I reached for the knob and the admiral cursed, but he skidded into a U-turn and ordered, “
Stay in the
car
.” Chris shouted, “No!” Galli bumped up onto the sidewalk and headed for the attack. He pressed his palm against the horn. Despite his anger, I think he was
glad we'd made him turn around. Or maybe I fooled myself. I'd done a lot of that lately. Now he was trying to stop the assault the way you'd scare off wild animals.

The attackers stopped and looked up, looked at each other, deciding what to do. One man raised his middle finger at us, but they all turned away, started running, and as we approached the guy on the ground, I reached for the door handle again, to get out.

Galli snapped, “I'll leave you here!”

Chris was screaming at me, “Goddamnit! You don't listen! What's the
matter
with you?”

My palms went up to soothe her. “Look, I know you're upset. But at this point the actual odds of infection are smaller than—”

“The
odds? The odds? This is my daughter!
”

Looking back, I saw the figure on the ground stirring, lifting a bloody head up. I saw him take something from the snow and put it on his head, before pulling his hood over it. A woven skullcap. So he was Muslim. My last glimpse of the man showed him trying to stand.

Chris had me by the jacket and was shaking me. “
What is your problem?
”

“Mom, Joe was just trying to help,” said Aya.

“You stay out of this!”

The admiral sighed. “Watch committees, Joe, although that's the first one I've actually seen. People looking for sick ones to beat up, chase out of their neighborhoods, or vent rage. Most people they attack aren't even sick. A swollen face from a bad tooth. A guy with a limp.
Bible Fever—
that's what I call it—initially resembles twenty things that are completely normal. A shaving cut. A pimple. Vigilantes have put more people in the hospital than disease.”

“This bad after only eight days?” I said. My chest throbbed where Chris had grabbed me. She'd been right, I saw, aghast. If I'd gotten out, I could have infected them . . .

“The first two days were tolerable. Then food in stores started
running out. The numbers doubled in places. Then, thanks to the President's warning, people stayed home and the spread slowed a little. Wikileaks made it clear to the world that we don't know what the disease is, that the CDC is running around, lost. The numbers got worse. So by day three some truckers refused to drive in shipments. Plus the images on TV. Every new case reported. More cities!”

The admiral's eyes met mine in the mirror. I said, “I'm okay. I won't do it again.”

Upper Reno Road—normally busy—was as still as at 5
A.M.
on a Sunday morning. Galli zigzagged back to Massachusetts and pulled to the curb outside the Homeland Security complex by American University. It's an old Navy base, lots of redbrick buildings inside a double fence. Unlike other sites we'd visited, this one was bustling. Parking lot filled. Staffers moving up and down outside stairs that separated different campus levels. Guards in balaclavas at the drive-in booth gazed out at us, hands on their sidearms. The impression was effectiveness. But impression, half the time, is mirage.

Homeland Security is like a company on the stock market whose value goes up during disasters. That doesn't mean it is a good company. It's the only one there at the time.

“I never liked this place anyway,” Eddie said. “It's a goddamn maze. Building H next to Building B. Rooms with three numbers. You need a roadmap to get around, and half the signs are intentionally wrong. Nobody trusts anyone else in there.”

The guards didn't like seeing a car idling outside the grounds, even beneath a two-hour parking sign. Three of the guards started toward us.

The admiral pressed down on the accelerator and we headed off and I could see one of the guys with binoculars pressed to his eyes, recording our license plate, but fence cameras would have already done that.

Galli said, “Look, everyone's tired. We'll have a good meal when
we get back. There's food on campus but a shortage elsewhere. Supplies distributed by social security number. Even numbers can purchase twelve items today. Tomorrow, odd. The Mayor's trying different systems. New one every day.”

“Twelve isn't a lot,” Aya said.

“Hopefully, as more food arrives, portions will get bigger.”

“I bet there's plenty for the high and mighty,” Eddie grouched, nodding toward Capitol Hill.

The admiral looked surprised. “I thought you knew. The President's gone. Congress. Supreme Court. The city woke up and our national leaders had left.”

Eddie gaped at him.

Galli said, “Protocol 80 is in effect.”