The Death Trilogy (Book 1): The Death: Quarantine

The Death

QUARANTINE

John W. Vance

Copyright © 2014 John W. Vance

No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

For information contact:

[email protected]

www.jwvance.com

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 10: 1500717320

ISBN-13: 978-1500717322

To all the Warriors, past, present and those yet to be born

Writing a novel is not an easy task, I know because I’ve written several. It’s this reason that when asked to help my great friend, John W. Vance, that I didn’t hesitate. You see, when I wrote my first novel, THE END, I had my own team of ‘helpers’ who came to my aid and provided critical assistance in making my dream come true.

John W. Vance reached out to me and I provided what assistance I could to help his debut novel, THE DEATH become a reality. I didn’t do much as John has written an exciting and engaging story the likes I wish I had written. He leveraged his real life experiences as a Marine and CIA Analyst to create characters that anyone can find a connection with. They are interesting, complex and well fleshed out. You will find yourself missing them when you close the book like I did.

I am eager to see how John’s world in THE DEATH continues in this trilogy. This first book is an excellent start in what I know will be a long career as an author.

Congratulations John, you are a great man, friend, American and warrior. Stay frosty!

G. Michael Hopf

Bestselling author of the post-apocalytpic series, THE NEW WORLD

October 2, 2020

38,000 feet over Illinois

Cassidy Lange's mind raced with everything she had seen and done over the past week and a half; then the turbulence came. When she wasn’t gripping the armrest of seat 23A with white-knuckled fear, she found herself rubbing the engagement ring she had just been given not three weeks earlier from her fiancé, Devin. She couldn’t wait to tell him everything, but first she needed to survive the three-hour flight from Omaha to New York. The turbulent flight was agony for her, but fortunately, she had a window seat to help pass the time and ease her anxiety. With each bump and drop, she gripped the armrest tighter and tighter, her fingers grasping to the point she feared she might break it. Below her, the tapestry of green, brown and blues rolled out slowly. The past week and a half had represented a turning point in her life and career. Out of many in her field, she had been chosen to join a private team of American scientists sent to examine the impact crater of 2019RD or Asteroid Pandora as it had become known.

Pandora had been an unknown and unrecorded object until it appeared out of nowhere three weeks ago. Quickly astronomers plotted the asteroid’s course, and to the fear of all, Pandora was on a course to collide with Earth. That collision occurred at 12:33PM Central Time on September 21 in the open western plains of Nebraska. Pandora was small as asteroids go, no bigger than a football field, but when it impacted the soft soil of the Nebraska plains at 60,000 miles per hour, the effects were felt across the state and beyond. Its impact wasn’t the stuff of movies; there wasn’t any long flaming trail that crossed the sky in a dazzling display for all to witness for minutes. If one was standing at the point of impact, they wouldn’t have had a warning; one second it was calm, and within a millisecond, an intense blast shook the ground. The only flash would have followed within another millisecond as the heavy rock dug out a crater over a mile wide and over two thousand feet deep and hurled the debris miles into the air. Pandora wasn’t large enough to cause worldwide calamity; in fact, if one were a few hundred miles away, they wouldn’t have even known anything had happened. But Pandora’s impact did cause something that wasn’t foreseen by any scientist, astronomer or astrophysicist. Like her Greek namesake, this Pandora too had a box, albeit a metaphorical one, and the day Cassidy arrived with her team, it had been opened.

The plane again rocked. With nervous energy, she tightened the seat belt across her lap. She knew it was foolish, because if the plane were to crash, her little seat belt wouldn’t save her. Regardless of this well-known knowledge, the tighter belt gave her a slight feeling of security.

To help forget the choppy flight, she decided to put her mind at ease by reading some of the data she had collected. Picking up her leather binder, she began to comb through the copious pages of information. She had wanted more, but after only a few short days on location near the impact zone, they were told to evacuate as the United States military moved in and quarantined the area. Even after resistance, her team of scientists was removed and a team of government-led scientists were put in their place. However, they weren’t allowed to just leave; they first had to undergo a decontamination protocol and shots. Some understood the strict guidelines put in place, but many complained; those complaints fell on deaf ears as the government and military lockdown was complete and total. Within a day of their appearance, she counted thousands of troops, the airspace was closed to all flights, and the impact site was now covered by massive white tentlike enclosures. Her team had been separated shortly after the government took over and each placed in their own quarantined confinement. She had protested, but after a couple lonely days of long interviews by men and women wearing full-body biological gear, she complied with their demands and was given the shot to fulfill her quarantine protocol.

The plane shuddered from the headwinds, causing her to again grip her armrest. Beads of sweat were forming on her forehead. Not knowing if it was hot on the plane or her warmth was a result of her nervous anxiety; she reached up and opened the vent. The cool air hitting her face felt good as she relaxed a bit into her chair. Her death grips and panicked response to every movement of the plane caught the attention of the man sitting in her row.

“Here, use this one too,” said the man who was sitting in the aisle seat.

She opened her eyes and saw him reaching up to the air vent above the vacant center seat. He turned it on and turned it towards her.

“Oh, thank you. It’s hot in here, right?” she asked, a feeling of embarrassment overcoming her.

“Don’t like flying?”

“Um, no, not really.”

“For me, it’s the feeling of not being in control that freaks me out most,” he said.

“Ha, for me, it’s the fear of crashing,” she joked as a smile creased her tanned face. She tucked a lock of her straight brown hair behind her ear and relaxed even more into the seat.

“So where you heading?” he asked.

“Home. What about you?”

“I just left home, heading to London. My first time,” he answered.

“London? That’s nice. I’ve never been, but would love to travel one day.”

“What do you do?” he asked.

“I’m an astrobiologist.”

“Sorry, what is that?” he asked, leaning in. He was truly curious.

She looked at him. He was handsome. His short brown hair had a dusting of gray on the close-cropped sides, and his blue eyes were piercing. She loved the look of dark hair and light eyes. This was one of the things that had attracted her to Devin, her longtime boyfriend. She wasn’t one who enjoyed the contrived conversations that many had on flights and tried to avoid them by putting on headphones or feigning sleep. However, he had caught her unprepared, and she was happy for it. He had a calming effect, and she needed it.

“I study the origin, evolution, distribution and future of life in the universe,” she said, rattling off her well-rehearsed answer to the same question she had been asked hundreds of times.

“Wow, life in the universe, like ET?” he quipped.

“Yes, like ET.”

“Sorry, I hope that didn’t come off wrong. I didn’t mean…”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. Her vision became a bit blurry, and she could feel another hot flash coming on strong. Larger beads of sweat built up on her forehead, and she even felt her hands get clammy.

“You feel okay?” he asked.

She didn’t answer right away; she blinked repeatedly in an attempt to focus her vision. A feeling of malaise was overcoming her, and she didn’t know why. This added to her already anxious feeling.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just very tired. It’s been a long week, to say the least,” she finally answered, but the tempo of her speech was slow.

“You look a bit pale.”

“I’m fine, sorry, but I think I’ll get some rest,” she said as she scratched her right shoulder. She raised her short sleeve and vigorously scratched.

“Ouch, that looks like it hurts,” he remarked.

“What?” She looked down and reacted in amazement at the spot where just twenty-four hours earlier she had been given the shot.

“Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” he asked, now concerned for her health.

“I’m fine, just tired.”

“Okay, get some rest.”

“Actually, I think I need to go to the bathroom. Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” he answered, standing up in the aisle.

She stood but felt weak, and a slight sensation of vertigo came upon her from the minimal movement.

He saw this and immediately came to her aid by taking her by the arm and helping her out.

Her legs felt wobbly. She paused just before stepping into the aisle and looked at him.

“How do I look?” she asked.

“Not good, should I contact the flight attendant?”

She took a step, and the weakness overcame her as she fell into his arms.

He grasped her tightly. He could feel the heat and sweat coming through her clothes. He placed her back in her seat and held her hand. He looked into her eyes, which in the matter of moments had become bloodshot. He wasn’t sure if what was befalling her was a normal sickness or something critical. Once he knew she was resting in the seat, he hit the flight attendant call button.

“Devin, please contact Devin,” she muttered.

He leaned in and asked, “What was that?”

“Devin, please call him.”

“Okay, I’ll call Devin,” he responded, not knowing who Devin was or how to reach him.

She closed her eyes and sat. Her breathing had increased along with her heart rate. Her thoughts were jumbled, and the heat radiating from her body was intense.

The flight attendant approached and asked, “How can I help?”

“She’s not doing well; she’s really sick,” he said, motioning to Cassidy, who was now lying down across all the seats.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“I don’t know. She seemed okay just ten minutes ago and then this.”

“Ma’am, can you hear me?” the flight attendant asked Cassidy.

Cassidy could hear the flight attendant, but her voice sounded like it was muffled and distant, as if she were immersed in water. She tried to respond, but the fatigue had become so great she didn’t have the strength to even speak.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” the flight attendant asked as she squeezed herself between the seats to take a closer look at Cassidy. She placed her hand on her arm and felt the fever that was raging in Cassidy’s body. She looked up at the man and asked, “Do you know her?”

“No, I just met her not fifteen minutes ago. I don’t even know her name.” The man shrugged his shoulders.

Another flight attendant walked up and asked, “Margaret, is everything okay?”

“No, get me a blanket and pillow.”

The second flight attendant marched off.

“It’s going to be okay, sweetie. Can you tell me your name?” Margaret asked.

Cassidy opened her mouth and whispered. Her eyes were shut tight.

Margaret shook her roughly.

Cassidy responded and opened her eyes.

“There you are. Can you tell us what you think is wrong? Do you require medicine? Please let us help you.”

Cassidy pulled up her sleeve, exposing the red, enlarged bump where she’d received the shot. A reddish rash now encircled the area.

“What is that?” Margaret asked as she pulled away from Cassidy, now afraid that she might be contagious.

Cassidy pointed and with a gasp said, “Shot.”

“Do you know if she takes medicine?” Margaret asked the man.

“Like I said, I don’t know anything. I just met her.”

As if her body had been pulled up, Cassidy sat up quickly. She opened her severely bloodshot eyes and stared at the seat back in front of her.