Degeneration (10 page)

Below, at a small bar in the middle of downtown Raleigh, a group of regulars sat
earlier than usual, watching cable news (most of the local stations were just
static). They sat in their business suits and
had
their ties and tongues w
ere well-
loosened. The lead shit-talker, Doug, a tall lanky systems manager from Sysco, waved his beer at the television screen on the wall.

“I’ll tell ya’ what
this is,” he slurred out
. “Nerd
stro
m-damious predicted this shit ya’ know?!” It was only ten i
n the morning and he was completely
wasted
, sitting
inside a bar that was ordered to close hours ago
.

The downtown skyscrapers had been
closed and evacuated e
arlier that morning by
the military
while FEMA was busy shuttling people out of downtown by the busloads. All of downtown Raleigh had been
ordered to evacuate
and the result was utter chaos.

The
lanes
headed out of downtown were
congested to a standstill by
FEMA buses and civilian vehicles,
while
, in the opposite lane,
convoys of military
flatbeds
loaded w
ith plywood and rolls of clear plastic steadily rolled into downtown
.

D
espite the fear and sense of urgency, some pe
ople didn’t rush out.
Many
assumed it was just typical post-9/11 governmental overreaction in response to
the Fort Detrick
terrorist attack
that occurred
hundreds of miles away.
People waited it out
in their downtown condos and
the military was
having a
hard
time chasing
them out.
Most bars and churches
refused
to close since both
establishments prospered during times of fear and panic
.
The
governmental order
s were falling on deaf ears
.

“Shh!” the bartender hissed at Doug
. He turned
the volume up on the television to drown out the wail of sirens outside and the loud-mouthed patrons inside.

Doug belched, loosened his tie, and stared at the television
.

“
–
at this time it is unclear. Again, for
those of you just tuning in, a biological
terrorist attack has occurred at Fort Detrick
early this morning
. The number of fata
lities is believed to be over twenty
and that number is expected to rise as more details com
e in,” the newscaster
coldly announced. “We now go live to our correspondent on the scene, Lisa Thompson.
Lisa?
”

The image
on
the screen cut to
a caravan of military trucks. The camera panned
and revealed
an attractive
reporter. She held a clipboard against the side of her head, ineffectively shielding herself from the passing convoy’s dust storm.

“Thank you, Matt!” she yelled
loudly into the
microphone, attempting
to talk over the rumble of
the passing
diesel engines. “
Vehicles have
been rushing towards the base for the las
t hour or so
.
An official who wishes to remain anonymous told us that the incident has been contained and that they are now in the clean-up stages.
” If she did somehow know that ‘clean-up operations’ consisted of incinerati
ng corpses then her neutral expression hid it very well. “A
large perimeter has been established and this is as close as we've been allowed due to the extremely communicative nature of the contagion.”

“Have you learned any additional inf
ormation about this contagion o
r the nature
of the attack?” Matt
voiced over.

“Not yet, unfortunately. The military has not
officially released
details
yet
, but sources in
side tell us that it was a dirty bomb.”

“Thanks, Lisa. Even more alarming is the breaking news coming this morning from Homeland Security. They claim that Raleigh is the target for a second–
”

Outside
of
the bar
,
there was a
n explosion high in the air.
The
television screen
f
licker
ed, the hanging lights
shudder
ed, glasses chattered, and
the startled occupants ducked underneath the bar
and tables
.

“What the fuck happened
?” Doug asked, wide-eyed, sobering up.

People
in the bar
slowl
y stood and stared
out
the window at Fayetteville Street and watched as
a Prius slammed on its bra
kes in the middle of the busy street.

A white FEMA evacuation bus slammed on its brak
es, but couldn’t stop in time. I
t slammed against the rear of the Prius and sent the car flying against a
SUV.

The
SUV
skidded against
another FEMA bus and shattered the bus windows.

Traffic in the street came to a standstill.

People
abandoned their vehicles
in a blind panic while throwing terrified glances above
. Glass shards and smoldering debris
pelted down into the street, shattering windshields and denting roofs. People scattered in every direction, some took shelter inside
the Wachovia Center skyscraper
across the street with their arms covering their heads. Others
trapped
inside the
wrecked
FEMA busses clamored
over each other and banged against the windows, screaming. S
irens honed in from every direction.

The bar patrons, confused, rushed
towards the front door
–

A second missile
struck the helicopter and sent another
concussive blast
hammer
ing down. The blast imploded
the fron
t windows of the bar and sent
the
occupants flinging backwards
.

The flaming rem
nants
of the helicopter
crashed against the Wachovia Center s
kyscraper, blossomed into an orange fireball, and then plummeted down
int
o the street below. The glass faca
de
of the Wachovia Center shattered
in
the impact and
large panes of glass rained down
along with the flaming
wreckage.

The twisted helicopter remains landed in the middle of Fayetteville Street
, crushing a crowd of scurrying civilians and flattening a FEMA bus full of people
. The
bus
’ fuel tank erupted
and
engulfed
other nearby vehicles.

The people trapped inside the vehicles screamed and flailed in the fire.

T
raffic further along Fayetteville Street stopped in
both directions
with a succession of multiple fender-benders. Numerous secondary
accidents
occurred as
people
attempted
to turn their cars around
in the middle of street. Most
abandoned their vehicles altogether
and took off running on foot
.

A
Raleigh
police car was the first responder. It weaved in-between abando
ned vehicles
with its blue light
s flashing and siren blasting. It stopped in
the intersection of
Morgan and Fayetteville, in front of the State Capital Building.

T
wo
more
police
cars weaved
through the vehicle ma
ze and joined the first responder, blue LED lights flashing.

The officers got
out of their
vehicles
amongst a
sea of panicked people that swarmed
past them
away from the helicopter.

Most of the Wachovia Tower’s f
acade
was scattered along the street amongst
the wrecked vehicles and
flaming wreckage. Screams of
pain and
agony
echoed
into the air from the people trapped inside their
engulfed
cars and
trapped
underneath smoldering rubble.

A fire truck slowly rolled up next to the police cars
, pushing a path through the abandoned cars,
repeatedly blasting its air horn, severely hampered by the tide of evacuating people. In the distance, more fire trucks and ambulances struggled to get to the scene, b
ut were rendered immobile by
the clogged
s
treets.

The
first
firemen at the scene
jumped out of their truck and
started unraveling the
ir hoses while
the police officers advance
d
towards the wrecked h
elicopter.

A black military helicopter arrived
and hovered
low
above the street, kicking up dust and debris.

The police officers froze and looked up at it.

“
Attention, do not approach the wreckage! This is the United States Army, repeating, do not a
pproach the wreckage! Stay back and wait for military assistance.
Help is on the way!
” the helicopter
announced over its loudspeaker.

The spreading flames engulfed a
nother
FEMA
bus
.

T
he police and f
iremen flinched and stepped back.

The
rear
emergency
doors of the
bus
flung open and people ran
out screaming, completely covered in flames
. The engulfed bodies
aimlessly
ran
forward
a few feet,
floundered
, and
finally collapsed
.

The
firemen and police officers watched in horror and
started to
run
forward
…
but then looked up at the helicopter, uneasy.

The
helicopter hovered above the street, an aerial view of the carnage below.

“
Do not approach t
he accident, help is on the way. Return to your vehicles for your own safety!
”
the hel
icopter’s loudspeaker repeated.

In the d
istance, additional helicopters approached
.

“Forget that!” one of the police officers yel
led and turned
towards the others. “There
are people trapped in there
!” He took off runni
ng towards the flaming wreckage and
others
joined him.

Six police officers and four firemen rushed towards the flaming rubble, weaving in-between
empty
cars. Curious onlookers started walking out from the alley
way
s and adjacent buildings, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happe
ning; the sidewalks filled
quickly. The
helicopter continued to circle and bark
ignored
or
ders over the loudspeaker, when–

Lloyd’s charred body lurched o
ut of the flaming wreckage
.

The officers and firemen froze
at
the sight of Lloyd.

Flames danced madly off of Lloyd’s
blackened skin. Every hair and every strand of fabric
had been burnt off of his body and burning
flesh
fell
off of him in clumps. He
ran forward, slowed to a stagger
, and then collapsed to the ground.