The Flu 2: Healing (19 page)

13. Dark Turn

Las Vegas, NV

“Anything?” Bill asked as he walked into the new lab, which was the laundry room at the hotel at one time.

Lexi bit her bottom lip. “I think I failed in the picture.”

“Let me see. I
was
an award winning photographer you know.” He held out his hand for her phone.

“I don’t think anyone takes good phone pictures.” She gave him the phone.

“You’ve got a good phone, you should …” Bill paused. “Scratch that. This is the worst picture I have ever seen. Do you need glasses?”

Lexi playfully slapped Bill on the arm.

“They aren’t gonna be able to figure this out,” he said.

“See I think they will,” she said. “You’re under the misconception that they’ll look at the microbe and know what it is instantaneously.”

“Won’t they?”

“No, it’s not that easy.”

“However, picture taking with an expensive phone is,” Bill said sarcastically. “And you failed that. Get it up on the screen again please.”

With a few clicks, Lexi pulled up the images. Using the phone, Bill snapped a few pictures. He reviewed them.

“There. They’re good.” He handed back the phone.

“Thank you.”

He took in the screen shot of the microbe and remarked how it reminded him of an alien. “Do you have any clue what this is?”

“It looks familiar,” Lexi said. “Like I should know it. And when and if they figure it out, I’ll probably get mad for not knowing it.”

“I have no idea what it is,” Bill said. “In case you were asking me.”

Lexi laughed, and her smile dropped when Matt walked in the room. “Hey, you look upset. I was just with your mom. She’s doing well.”

Matt shook his head. “Not her. Are our other people okay?”

Lexi nodded. “Stable. Why?”

“Can you guys come with me? We found some sick people. And you were right, they didn’t come here because they had no clue we had a doctor.”

“You didn’t bring them in?” Lexi asked.

“No, and I don’t think I should.” Matt gave a wave of his hand. “Come with me.”

Lexi walked across the room for her bag. She added a few things back into it, zipped it and asked Bill, “I wonder what’s up?”

“Would you think I was overreacting to say I just got a twitch of fear about this?”

“Not at all.” Lexi tossed her bag over her shoulder and left with Bill.

She had no idea what they were going to see, but like Bill, she was fearful.

* * *

Damon, NY

Doc held out his hand to halt Briggs from opening the door. He had led the commander to the top floor of the hospital and to the far back set of rooms, stopping at the glass wall. “I can’t let you go in there.”

“Why not? You said it was about the patient that came in from out west.”

“Yes.”

“That’s her, right?” Briggs pointed to the window and the lone occupant of the room, a woman in a hospital bed.

“It is and that’s why I can’t let you in there. The flu pretty much wiped out all the quarantine stuff and bio hazard suits. What we have left is minimal and we need it for our workers until you can find us more.”

Brigs gave an inquisitive look. “What’s going on?”

“I asked her when she left the west. She said eight days ago, give or take a day. She said they stopped twice overnight, once in Vegas, the next day in Indiana, and that’s where our guys got her. So it’s falling in the incubation period. The child and another woman with her are showing symptoms. I need those men who brought them in. I need them here and away from everyone for two weeks.”

Briggs closed his eyes with a tense expression.

“They went back out?” Doc asked.

Briggs nodded. “Not for a run though, to head home. They’re taking the long route because of that insurgent blockade. Hopefully, they won’t run into them and get captured.”

“No, actually, if they’ve got this, hopefully they
will
get captured by this problem camp.”

Briggs seemed offended. “That’s heartless for our men.”

“Well, if this band of merry mercenaries clocked Erie and burned a town, who knows what else they can do? It would be an easy elimination of them.”

“What the hell does this woman have?” Briggs asked.

“I can’t confirm, I can only guess. I don’t have the means to really test.”

“The guess?” Briggs folded his arms.

Doc exhaled. “I saw it when I was a kid. Not here in America, and that’s why it doesn’t make sense. It has to be something else, because I can’t figure out how she got it.”

Briggs huffed in frustration. “What? Tell me what to prepare for.”

Doc nodded as an indication to the woman. “Look at her face. Her eyes, her ears, her nose. Look closely.”

Briggs did and he whispered, “Are they… bleeding?”

“They are, and she’s been vomiting blood as well,” Doc said. “She’s dying, Jonah. From something that doesn’t happen here in America. I think — no I’m almost positive — ” Doc faced Briggs, “that she has Ebola.”

* * *

Las Vegas, NV

Vegas wasn’t an easy place to get around. The only thing in its favor, post-flu world, was that it was flat, easy on gas.

Walking was out of the question; they
had
to drive. The heat was unbearable, the wind was fierce, like a high heat blow dryer basting wave after wave of dirt and sand, and starving birds grew bold and brave, swooping down occasionally at the solo walkers.

Matt managed to put up tents that stretched across some of the property for those who ventured outside, but it was best to stay indoors. He even told Bill to move the car to an indoor garage, which Bill did. Even though it was under the awning of the casino drop off, it was getting buried in sand.

They took Matt’s car. Four blocks down was the Stay Rite Motel. Nothing fancy, basic, cheap accommodations for the thrifty Vegas tourist who wanted to stay on The Strip.

Admittedly, Matt didn’t have a full grasp on how many people lived in his new stopping post town. There could have been some that passed trough. A few still lived in houses on the outskirts, but most of them made their way inward. While his men kept track of those they saw stroll into to town and where they settled, it was hard to do an accurate count when they didn’t enter into barter or need anything.

So Matt and his men cruised slowly, looking for signs that people were staying in a building. Places they recorded as stops pilgrims made, one of which was the Stay Rite Motel. Four blocks away from the Matt-age, as everyone joked.

“We knew they pulled in about a week ago, haven’t heard from them,” Matt told Lexi as they drove there.

“You didn’t check on them?”

“No, why would we? We probably would have inquired this week, because of this …” Matt pointed to the three motorcycles in front of the motel, all of them covered with sand that came mid-bike. “They haven’t moved.”

“What about from our hotel to here. Anyone?”

“No one reported anything. We’ll try again, especially after this.”

“Are they dead?” Bill asked. “Is that why you didn’t bring them?”

“Worse,” Matt answered.

Bill looked at Lexi. “Worse than dead?”

She crinkled her face in confusion.

Matt stopped the car. “Got your gloves and mask?”“Yeah,” Lexi answered. “But—”

“Put them on.” Matt reached to the center console of the car and pulled out a pair of gloves and paper thin respirator mask.

Lexi did as instructed and so did Bill. Matt opened the car door. Toting her bag, Lexi followed Bill to room 7.

Matt knocked. “Mr. Randal? Hey, it’s Matt again. I brought the doctor for you guys.”

The man’s voice was raspy and nasal as he replied from the other side. “Thank God.”

The door opened. Lexi stood in shock. Matt looked at her with a ‘see, I told you’ nod.

The man looked engorged, but he wasn’t. It was just an illusion brought on by the red swollen and puss filled bumps that covered every square inch of his face, neck, and exposed arms. Even his eyelids had them.

“Wanna confirm what I think this is?” Matt asked Lexi.

She didn’t say, but Bill did. He didn’t need to be a scientist, viral specialist or doctor to know what Mr. Randal had.

It was clearly … smallpox.

* * *

“Sorry, gentlemen, I got hung up,” Lars said as he entered the laboratory portion of the clinic.

Henry and Kurt sat there waiting.

“Everything okay?” Henry asked.

“Well, our bullet wound victim is doing well, thank you. Minuteman Nelson sent a man to us this morning who was sick. Fever, malaise, body aches, stomach ailment,” Lars said. “I’ve just drawn blood and not done a work up yet.”

“Waterborne illness?” Henry suggested.

“That’s what I think. When water is not filtered, purified, this happens. And seeing how we are the top medical community, we’re going to get them,” Lars said. “Speaking of which, since phones are up, have you spoken to our Commander in Chief?”

“I called,” Henry said. “He didn’t answer.”

“The president didn’t answer.” Lars rubbed his chin. “Odd. Is he alive?”

Kurt laughed. “He’s just busy, putting a country back together.”

“I think he’ll be surprised to learn people have been doing that. Alright gentlemen, what do you have?” Lars asked with a single clap of his hands.

“This.” Kurt spun the computer screen to face Lars. “Lexi Martin sent these from Vegas. Four patients all with the same symptoms. Her first couple of photos sucked, then she sent this one.”

“Oh, wow. Unreal,” Lars said. “Wow.”

“Wow?” Henry asked. “Are you going to tell me you know what this is? Because we have some guesses, and thought we could brainstorm.”

“I know what it is, no guessing here,” Lars said.

“Just like that?” Kurt asked.

“Yes,” Lars said. “You two ought to be ashamed of yourselves for not knowing. Then again, why would you think it? It’s an odd one. Plus, you know, I
am
Lars Rayburn.”

Henry shook his head. “Okay, Great One, what is it?”

“Simple. Well, not simple, it’s deadly. However …” Lars hesitated, “it’s SARS.”

14. Uncovering Truth

Erie, PA

When Rose first started coming to, she found it hard to believe she wasn’t dead. The last thing she recalled was flying off the side of the road, her body airborne.

Then nothing.

She wasn’t wearing a helmet: How in the world had she lived? And for sure she wasn’t dead. She as in far too much pain to not be alive. Her head throbbed and her body felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds. She actually was afraid to move.

Her eyes were still closed and she was certain that she was somewhere outside. It was cold and she could feel a wetness against her face. She had probably landed by a creek and her face was in mud.

She moved, and in doing so, a hard, sharp, stabbing pain filled her side. It felt as if something was stuck inside of her. Perhaps she was impaled. The pain was horrendous and she opened her eyes.

It was dark but not dark enough to conceal the fact that she wasn’t outside.

She had to move, find out what was going on. She lifted her head and it throbbed even worse. Shifting her eyes down, she saw she had been laying on a canvas tarp. It was covered in blood, fresh blood. Was it hers? She had been face down and it took everything to turn over some. The pain was tremendous. Every part of her hurt.

Surely her ribs were broken, maybe even her leg. She brought her fingers to her face, felt around, it was drenched. Where was she bleeding from? Fingers probing, she found a few spots that could be the culprits.

Above her eye, her chin, and the side of her head held a gash so big, she could feel the separation of skin.

Where was she? She blinked several times to clear her blurred vision and lifted her head the best she could. What looked like old mail was scattered about the floor and that was when she saw the lettering on the canvas sack: USPS.

She groaned softly, thinking,
What the fuck am I doing in a post office?
And as she attempted to get up, a pair of legs slid into her view.

“No, no,” the young female voice pressed. “Close your eyes and lay back down. They’re waiting for you to wake up to hurt you.”

“Are you shitting me?” Rose asked, her voice rough, raspy. She cleared her throat.

The young woman had to be no older than eighteen. Her long dark hair was tangled and messy, she tucked it behind her ears. She had dark circles under her eyes and a huge bruise on her cheek. Her bottom lip was cut and bleeding.