Three Days After Impact
Date: 2021-08-28 00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Post Apocalyptic
Description: When the news of an impending extinction level meteor impact is made public, humanity struggles to find some way to survive. Violet journals her life in a notebook in the form of letters to her grandmother. They start out sarcastic and funny, as she shares entertaining and exaggerated tales of her teenage life. But when Violet finds out about the meteor, everything changes. Suddenly she is thrust into a grown up world and her survival isn't guaranteed. The pages of her journal are a journey. They detail the frightening and heartbreaking global catastrophe as it unfolds before her eyes. When th
Publisher: Amazon Digital Services LLC - Kdp

Three Miles Out

BOOK ONE

By

Jacqueline Druga

Three Miles Out: Book One - By Jacqueline Druga

Copyright 2017 by Jacqueline Druga

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Thank you to Paula Gibson and Shona M for your help and encouragement on this one.

Cover Art by Christian Bentulan

www.coversbychristian.com

ONE - SMASH

Another scream.

Elsa Monroe was used to hearing them, they were quite frequent since the Cramer family moved next door three years earlier. At first, they were disturbing. Even causing her heart to jump when she heard them echo across the short distance between the two houses.

In the fifty-three years that Elsa lived on Pearl Street, they were by far the nosiest neighbors who lived on the suburban tree lined road in Wakeman, Ohio.

There had been some doozies beforehand. Elsa had seen them all.

From the loud tattoo biker gang who had fire pits and played that ‘rock and roll’, to the religious guru with three wives. However, no one was quite like the Cramer family.

Elsa was active for seventy-five. She worked out at the gym twice a week, played bingo, acted in the summer theater in Cleveland, even went to Sexy Over Sixty Singles every third Thursday. She wasn’t one of those senior women who sat around so much their imagination went wild.

Pearl Street was a simple street and modest. No one was rich. Most of the houses were Cape Cod or ranch style frame homes. Most were white. Nothing extravagant. So when the Cramers moved in with their fancy SUV’s and minivan with bells and whistles, she figured them to be drug lords, or part of the witness protection program.

Until she sort of got to know them. Not much, she didn’t mingle with them on a regular basis. A daily “hello”, the talk about the garden, and comments yelled across the yard about the kids.

She didn’t know much about their lives.

Three kids, all girls, all names that began—or at least sounded as if they did—with the letter K.

Kaddy, Karen, Kira.

Along with a small, fluffy, yappy dog named Spud.

She didn’t know the father’s name, not for sure. Something like Bruce or Bob. However, she knew the Mom’s name. It was Vivian.

Elsa would see Vivian leave every day for work in her purple scrubs. Headed off to Country Meadows Assisted Living where she worked as a nurse’s aide, or something like that. She was a pretty gal and would look nicer if she did something else with her hair besides a ponytail.

Vivian looked older than she probably was.

So did the husband for that matter.

He was rarely seen. When he was, he was usually getting in a cab. He’d wave, be gone and not come back for weeks.

Odd family.

The first time Elsa heard one of the children scream was shortly after they moved in. It was the middle girl, Karen. She was three at the time. The youngest was just a baby. Karen had let out this long, shrill scream as if someone had died.

Elsa raced over and Vivian assured her everything was fine.

“Little girls tend to scream like that,” Vivian said.

Elsa learned that fact to be true. Every time they played at least one of them would scream.

There were days they’d all scream.

Elsa grew used to it.

Except on this day.

Something was different.

Elsa had a daily routine. She liked to sleep late, have a late breakfast, go to the gym, store, or both, then eat a light lunch while she watched her favorite block of shows played on the Game Show Channel.

She had just fixed herself a Braunschweiger sandwich and hard-boiled egg, grabbed a bottle of beer and plopped in her easy chair.

Just as Match Game 1976 began she heard those God awful screams.

They were different. Not just one long shrill, playful cry, it was three in a row. The same voice, high and young … Kira. Elsa muted the television.

The screaming stopped.

After putting on the volume again she heard another scream ring out.

This one caused Elsa to stand up and peek out the window. She didn’t see any of the kids in the yard.

Once it was quiet again Elsa walked back to her chair. Before she even sat down there was another scream.

“Sweet Lord,” Elsa gasped in shock as she grabbed her chest and took a breath. That shriek scared the heck out of her. A loud cry, deep and disturbing. It was unlike any she had ever heard coming from the Cramer house.

The last thing Elsa wanted to do was call the sheriff and get the family in trouble. She took a big swig of her light beer, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and headed out the door.

Once outside she could hear Spud yapping and yapping.

Vivian’s van was parked out front, which told her the mom was home.

No other neighbor was on the street, or raced over to see what was going on.

Then again, it was the middle of a working day.

Elsa walked the fifty feet to the house next door and made her way to the porch.

‘I’m being silly,’  Elsa thought. ‘I will knock and they’ll think I’m nosey for even coming over.’

She stopped before she stepped on the porch, thought about turning around, but changed her mind. In the three years the Cramer family lived next to her she had only gone over there that once. This time was justified. She would rather be wrong than turn a blind eye, or deaf ear, when a family really needed help.

Spud still yapped that annoying bark as Elsa reached the door.

The front door was open so she hollered through the screen door. “Vivian? Everything okay?”

Spud’s yapping bark turned into one high pitch ‘yelp’. Elsa’s heart dropped to her stomach.

Spud’s last yelp wasn’t a good sign.

She knew what that dreadful sound meant when a dog made it.

“Vivian,” she called out.

Just as she called out again she heard a sound … Clonk.

It sounded like metal hitting against something dense.

Clonk.

Elsa grabbed the screen porch door and opened it.

The moment she stepped inside the house, Elsa knew she should have run.

Blood was splattered across the walls.

Clonk.

‘Stupid old woman,’ she thought. She was no hero. She wasn’t brave. What was she doing here? She should of called 911. Elsa’s heart raced and her body trembled. A shoe lay in the middle of a thick, bloody pile of something, resembling intestines.

Clonk.

Not far from the bloody pile was Spud’s lifeless body. The tiny, fluffy fur ball of a dog looked like a red rag doll.

Clonk.

Her hand shot to her mouth, her saliva glands worked hard and overproduced as she fought her need to vomit. Elsa, confused, spun left to right, she wanted to run but thought: ‘Dear God, the children? Where are the children?’

She didn’t see any of the girls, but the amount of blood sickened her. If they were in trouble, Elsa had to help. Or at least try.

A landline phone was on the table next to the couch right by the archway that divided the living room and dining room.

Clonk.

Elsa hurried to it. When she reached for the phone she saw Kaddy, the oldest child.

Her thin body was on the floor by the dining room doorway, twisted and laying on her side, Kaddy’s arms were above her head, eyes wide open, her neck and chest torn apart.

Elsa knew she had to call for help, but also knew she had to get out of there.  The second she turned to leave she saw the moving legs.

It was the father. He kicked and squirmed in some sort of struggle.

Elsa also saw the source of the noise.

In the doorway that separated the kitchen from dining room, Vivian hovered over her husband flailing a cast iron frying pan.

The husband struggled, grabbing and fighting for his life as she careened the pan down on him.

Clonk.

On that blow, blood shot outward, yet he kept moving and not giving up. Could she help him? Should she try?

With a maddened look, face splattered with blood, Vivian eyed Elsa.

Elsa froze.

“Elsa, run,” Vivian yelled, and with maddened rage she careened the frying pan down on her husband, “Get out. Run!”

Vivian raised that pan again. Elsa didn’t wait any longer to see it strike him. She spun on her heels and as fast as she could, she raced out of that house.

TWO – ROLL

The coffee table was a complete and utter disaster, but Brady didn’t mind. Empty paper plates, pizza boxes, soda cans and filled ashtrays.

He knew by grabbing a garbage bag and with one fell sweep of his arm across the surface, everything would go into the bag looking almost as good as new.

Brady wasn’t touching it today. It was his day off. He delivered pizzas five days a week, and two of those days he ran a gaming competition at a local card and game shop. It was a work free day for him, he had plans to do nothing but sit on his sofa, watch television, binge eat, drink cheap vodka and get high.

Despite the mess before him, he made room for his notebook.

Brady Lawrence was a carefree, good looking guy in his late twenties. He had curly brown hair that got a little unruly when it needed a cut. For the most part he kept it tucked under a baseball cap.

Leaning towards the coffee table, Brady held a folded cigarette paper between his thumb and forefinger, then sprinkled marijuana in the crease. Where some people preferred a pipe or e-cigarette version, Brady preferred rolling a good old fashioned joint.

He peered up at the knock on the door. Jason stood there, his best friend since high school. After he waved hello, Jason opened the screen door and stepped inside.

“Want me to shut this?”

“Nah, that’s okay. Dude, you heard from Stevie?”

“Not today.’ Jason sat down on the couch. “What’s up?”

“He was supposed to come over. I owe him twenty bucks and I wanted to give it to him before I spend it.”

“Why don’t you just drive over?”

“I will. But he said he wanted to hang.” Brady shrugged.  “Did you work today?’

“I work every day.”

“Dude, I do, too.”

“Running pizzas.”

“I make as much …” He sprinkled some more weed into his joint. “As you do at that bank and work half the time. Plus, I don’t have random drug testing.”

“True,” Jason said. “How’s your mom?”

Brady lifted his eyes to the ceiling. His mother was in the room right above. She had a knee replacement the week before and ended up with an infection that hit her harder than the pain from the surgery did. “Getting better.”

“That’s good.” Jason reached for the remote. “Why is your phone open to a story about a chick that murdered her family?”

“Oh, dude, thanks for reminding me.” Brady took the phone and then the notebook.

“What are you doing?”

“This chick, right, one minute she is making cookies, the next she fucking tears her family apart and murders her husband with a frying pan. They think she tried to make it look like he killed the kids, said she mutilated herself, too. Sick. Three kids. All little. Man.” He flipped back the notebook and started writing.

“Why are you writing this down?”

“Ever read one of these stories? They’re all over the news. Usually a small town family, the mom or dad goes nuts and murders everyone. No reason why. They just do it. Ever read them and wonder what happened to them?”

“No.”

“I do. Then usually, by the time I remember about it, I forget the details, like names and such, and I can’t find the story again. I mean, like, I want to know did they get convicted, kill themselves, or ever say why they did it. What the fuck causes someone to crush their entire family? So I got frustrated, and I started writing down details to go back and check.”

“And?” Jason asked.

“Half the time, nothing. You can’t find a follow up story at all.”

“Maybe there never was one.”

“Probably,” Brady said. “I don’t get why they don’t do a follow up. It’s like showing a really good pilot for a TV series then never making any more.”

“It’s a twisted hobby,” Jason said.

“Yeah, I know.” Brady finished rolling his joint.

“I’m gonna grab something to drink.”

“Go ahead.” Brady lifted the remote control and aimed it at the television. As soon as he turned it on the news showed aerial footage of massive police and fire presence on a small street. “Oh, shit. Shit.”

“What?” Jason rushed back in.

Brady pointed. “Wakeman. That’s where that chick murdered her family today.”

“Did she escape?” Jason asked. “Looks like they’re setting up roadblocks.”

“Oh, man, She’s on the run. I thought they had her.”

“Wakeman is only about an hour from here.” Jason said.

“I know. Why would they block off a town?” Brady asked. “Weird. We should take a ride over and see what’s going on.”

“When? Now?”

“Yeah.”

Jason pulled out his phone. “Let me check with Corrie.” He began to text.

“Look at you checking in.” Brady snickered.

“Um, yeah, I am married with a kid. I’m responsible now. And …” his phone jingled and Jason looked down. “She said fine.”

“Excellent, let’s do it. We can take my car.” Brady stood up from the couch and lifted his phone to his pocket. Both he and Jason headed toward the door.  He paused at the stairs and looked up, shouting, “Hey, Ma, I’m headed out with Jason. I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” the woman’s voice carried down. “Did you clean up for me?”

Brady looked into the living room. “Not yet, I will when I get back. I promise.”

“Thank you. Be careful.”

“I will.”

Jason yelled up the stairs. “Hope you feel better Mrs. Lawrence.”

“Thank you, Jason,” she replied.

Jason moved from the stairs to the front door. “You know this is really weird that we’re doing this.” Jason reached for the handle.

“Yeah, but how often do we get to see an entire town barricaded over a crazy chick?” Brady took a step toward him and stopped. “Shit. Wait.” He raced over to the coffee table, lifted the remote, shut off the television, grabbed his joint and hurriedly followed Jason out.

<><><><>

The wide screen television in the recreation room of Country Meadows Assisted Living played loudly even though the closed captions scrolled across the bottom. Several residents watched, shaking their heads.

“Now the body count increases,” the reporter said. “Not only does the number include the loss of a family, this reporter has just learned that seventy-five year old, Elsa Monroe, who actually discovered the gruesome scene, has passed away from heart failure.”

“What did she say?” Bert Daniels, one of the male residents yelled out.

“Read the captions,” another replied.

“I don’t have my glasses, what did she say?” Bert asked.

“They said she killed the old lady, too.”

“Good lord, she had a hard time lifting me off the shower floor, how the hell did she kill all those people?” Bert said.

Across the room, Alice McLaurin spoke to the Sheriff. She forced an embarrassed smile and said, “Will you excuse me for one second?”

She walked over to the television and switched the channel, much to the vocal dismay of the residents.

“We were watching that.”

“Watch something else,” Alice said. ‘It’s disturbing.”

“Wanna know what is disturbing,” a male resident, replied, “You let her go home early. If she had stayed and worked, she would have snapped here, not there.”

“You don’t know that.” Alice shook her head. “Watch Judge Jim.” After setting down the remote control, she returned to the sheriff. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. Why did you turn it off?”

“I don’t want to hear it. I really don’t. I know everyone says this but … I would never have expected this from Viv. Not her.”

“So if I heard correctly, she was here today before the incident?”

Alice nodded. “She worked half shift yesterday as well.”

“Was she sick?”

“No. Her husband was ill. He was with the kids.”

The Sherriff nodded and leaned toward the radio on his shoulder. “Confirmation received. Suspect was here. Over.”  He stepped back.

“They say she tore her kids apart,” Alice said. “Hurt herself, is that true?”

“Really not at liberty to say. Again, thank you.” He turned and walked away.

Alice was shaken by the events. She had known Vivian for a couple years. Granted it wasn’t that long, but she worked with her every day. Had lunch with her, was friends with her on social media. In fact, Vivian’s last post was a picture of her and her daughters in a smiling selfie.

She loved her children, it was like one of those crazy news stories that she would see about once a day. A seemingly loving parent, for no reason, murders the entire family. Friends and relatives claim it was unlike them. Alice always thought that was crazy talk. Someone that snaps and slaughters their children had to have shown some sign.

Yet, there Alice was, shuffling through her daily paperwork while trying to think of a single time Vivian lost her temper.

Working in an Assisted Living facility wasn’t easy. Some of the residence needed more care than just ‘assisted’. Vivian never complained when she had to do extra, or clean up a resident who had an accident. She was loving, caring and compassionate.

“Drugs!” a resident yelled. “They’re saying she was on some sort of synthetic drug.”

Alice peered up. The residents had put the news on again. “Mr. Daniels,” she scolded and walked over. “This is inappropriate.”

“We aren’t children,” Bert grabbed the remote control before she could. “If we wanna watch the goddamn news, we’ll watch the goddamn news. I’m pretty sure there’s nothing too inappropriate for me at eight-five years old, do you?”

Before Alice could sputter out an answer, the deep, steady buzz of the fire alarm sounded along with the flashing of the emergency strobe lights.

Alice kicked into high gear, she knew the routine. Find out the location of the hot spot and move the residents to a safe zone. Then check the rooms. She placed the ear buds to her radio in her ear expecting to hear the fire zone.

“Please secure all residents,” the radio said. “Keep them from the halls.”

She looked out the recreation room door into the main hall. She didn’t see any smoke. The front door wasn’t far and she could gather the eight residents and move them, or shut the fire doors of the recreation room. But her instructions were to hang tight and that’s what she would do.

Bert stood with his walker. “We getting out of here?”

“No, no.” Alice said, walking over to him. “Sit back down. There’s no evacuation code called out. We’re going to stay here.”

“Oh, yeah, leave a bunch of immobile old people to burn.”

“Not funny.” Alice turned and walked over to the doors. As soon as she grabbed the handles the alarms stopped. She breathed out and looked up at the ceiling to the strobe lights. They stopped as well.

Withdrawing her hands, she leveled her gaze, that was when she saw them.

A group of eight people walked into the main hall. Two broke off and headed her way. It wasn’t the sight of strangers that bothered her, it was the fact that they wore respiratory masks, goggles and gloves.

“Ma’am,” a woman approached her. “If you can just step back into the room we’ll be with you shortly.”

“I have to get back to the nurse’s station. I’ll grab an aid to sit with them,” Alice said.

“No one moves or goes anywhere until we survey and do a head count. We’re on lock down.”

At first she thought, ‘My God, Vivian did escape and was here in Country Meadows.’ Fearful of the answer, Alice asked. “What’s going on?”

“This facility,” the woman replied, “Is under quarantine.”

THREE - MOVE

“Mommy.”

“Calling, Mercy Allen Oberlin, this is Medvac Bravo two-two-seven,” the male paramedic said.

“This is Mercy Allen, go ahead please,” came the voice on the radio.

“Mommy.”

It was all still a dream. Vivian kept hearing her youngest daughter’s voice as she tried to get her attention.

“Mercy Allen, I have a priority one trauma for you coming in from Wakeman, let me know when you are ready. Copy.”

“Go ahead, Two-two-seven.”

“We are transporting a semi-conscious female. Multiple lacerations on both legs and ankles, appears to be scratches of sorts. Female also has two human bite marks on both arms. Reporting they are self-inflicted,” the paramedic said.

Pause.

“Two-two-seven, would this be the person of interest in the Wakeman incident?”

“Affirmative.”

“Please, hold.”

Vivian didn’t know what was going on. She felt nothing, not at the moment, everything was a blur and surreal.

“Two-two-seven is the patient stabilized?”

“Stabilized and restrained, law officials on board.”

“Two-two-seven we are transferring the call to Firelands, Sandusky.”

“Firelands? That’s fifty minutes out.”

“Two-two-seven we are ill equipped to handle the patient, transferring to Firelands. Do you copy?’

“Copy that.”

“Mommy.”

“No!” Vivian opened her eyes and even as confused as she was, her body flooded with a feeling of complete fear. Eyes barely opened she attempted to move, to sit up, but every part of her body was strapped and bound, including her head

She knew she was moving, she could tell, however her senses were dulled all the way around. Through clouded vision she shifted her eyes and saw a man with a mask and gloves, he fiddled with the line on the IV, turned his head and spoke to someone else.

His voice deepened, slowed and became more echoing with every word.

“Another thirty seconds, she’ll be out.”

Then Vivian was.

She was living a reality check. Opening her eyes in the ambulance the only thing she recalled was hearing her youngest daughter, Kira, calling her name. At first Vivian thought she slept in, then she knew that was wrong when she heard the paramedics.

They drugged her again, but not enough to stifle the dream.

Bash. Bash.

In her dream the sun was bright. She was in the yard, sweat formed on her brow as she brought the garden hoe down to the soil, trying to break a hard spot. It was time to plant the garden.

Bash. Bash.

Elsa stood across from her, judging her, like she always did. Vivian didn’t want to hear from Elsa about how she was doing it wrong.

“Leave, Elsa. Go,” Vivian told her.

Then she felt the ground soften as she looked down.

No longer was she in the garden, but in her kitchen. Her husband, Ben, twitched and jerked, grabbing onto her one second, then clawing to get away the next.

Bash. Bash.

It wasn’t a garden hoe, it was a frying pan in her hand. Vivian was out of control. She couldn’t stop. Over and over she hit into his head, smashing it, until he didn’t move, until there was nothing left. Bits of his skull were splattered across the kitchen floor, nothing of his brain remained intact, it poured out like jam, and his eyeball adhered to the top of her shoe.

He was dead. She knew it. She couldn’t stop hitting him.

Fueled by rage, Vivian just kept smashing and probably would have done so all night had the police not barged in with guns blazing as she held that pan midair ready to swing down.

“Drop it!” they shouted. “Drop the weapon now!”

Vivian did, the pan fell not making a sound as it landed in Ben’s remains. She froze unable to move as they charged for her.

FOUR – MYSTERY

The two lane road of Route Twenty, or Cleveland Road as the locals called it, was barren of cars and had been since they passed the town limits of Norwalk. Which surprised Brady since there were a lot of trucks going in and out of the road to Norwalk County Airport.

It was busy then suddenly nothing.

“Is a Bill Hollonsworth from a Beaver County, Pennsylvania in your notebook?” Jason played with his phone as he sat as a passenger in Brady’s car.

“Name doesn’t sound familiar so I’m gonna say no. Why?”

“Well, he killed his mother and father, ate his father’s face. They said his nephew escaped. He called the police and they killed Bill while he was eating his dad.”

“That’s why he’s not in my notebook. He’s dead. No follow up. Why are you talking about him?” Brady asked.

“Because I thought it was weird they shut down a town, so I looked it up to see if there were any other cases. That was one of them. This was the other day.”

“Anything else?”

“One in Virginia.”

“The teenager that went nuts?” Brady asked. “Yeah, I have that one. They only shut down the street because he got loose.”

“Probably what happened to the Wakeman chick, she got loose. I mean, let’s face it,” Jason said. “I’m looking at the map now. Wakeman is in the middle of farm lands. If she’s off running, only five streets go through that town. It’s easy to seal her in.”

“Fucking bath salt people get crazy. Or whatever that new synthetic drug out there.”

“Oh, yeah, I saw videos of that on line. That’s some crazy shit.”

“Speaking of crazy shit.” Brady slowed down. “We still have a mile to Wakeman. Look at this.”

Jason looked up from his phone. Not far ahead, maybe three hundred yards, a state police car and fire truck, both with lights flashing, blocked off the lanes along with a white, extended bed pickup.

In front of the vehicles stood two policemen and a man wearing black coveralls.

Brady brought the car to a near stop when he saw a couple of soldiers behind the police cars. “Does this seem odd to you?” Brady asked.

“Uh, yeah. Why is the military here?” Jason lifted his phone and took a picture. “I’m sending this to Corrie, she has to see this.” His fingers moved on his phone as he sent his message. “I think we should turn around.”

“I agree.” Brady reached for the gearshift. As soon as he touched it he noticed one of the police officers walking his way. “What should I do? He’s coming.”

“You can’t leave now. He’ll think you’re running. Keep driving his way slow.”

Brady nodded and inched his car forward. “About right now I’m thinking this was a really stupid idea.”

“You and me both.”

The police officer lifted his hand and Brady stopped the car completely and rolled down the window when he approached.

“Afternoon boys. Where you headed?” he asked.

After a second delay, Brady answered. “Brunswick. We’re headed to Brunswick.”

“Road is closed ahead. Gonna have to backtrack and catch One-Thirteen.”

“We’ll do that, thank you Officer,” Brady said. “Is uh, everything okay there?’

“Yep. Just a little gas leak.”

“We’ll turn around. Thanks again.” Brady wound up his window and the officer stepped out of the way. “Gas leak my ass. We know he’s lying.”

“Maybe not. Because …” Jason held up his phone. “They got her. Corrie said they got the family killer a while ago.”

“Maybe it is a gas leak after all.” Brady turned the wheel and lifted his hand in a wave to the officer.

“They cleared all the news people out. They were here when we left the house,” Jason said.

“Let’s just go.” Brady turned the car to the other lane and just as he began to head west, he spotted something from his peripheral vision. “Holy shit. Look.” He pointed to the field next to them.

A man ran through the weeds, he ran fast, looking over his shoulder. On his heels in pursuit, was a soldier.

Jason lifted his phone.

“You getting this?” Brady asked.

“I am.”

It sounded like firecrackers, two of them going off and with that, blood sprayed from the running man and he fell from sight.

Brady panicked, and his car swerved.

“Fuck. They shot him,” Jason said. “They shot him.”

“I saw. I saw.”

“Go. Go.”

“Did you get it?”

“I got it. Go.”

Brady hit the gas, but it wasn’t long before the flashing lights of the police were in his rearview mirror. “Shit. Send it.”

“I am,” Jason said.

“Tell her they’re after us.”

“I did.”

“Delete it. The video, the picture and the text.”

Jason nodded nervously. “Why am I doing that?”

“Just do it.” Brady urged, then put on his turn signal, he slowed down and pulled over.

“What are you doing?”

“We can’t outrun them.”

“Yes. Yes we can.”

“For how long?” Brady exhaled and put the car in park as he watched in the mirror, the squad car pulled up behind him. “Maybe they’re just getting me for speeding. I did haul ass.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe we’re just paranoid.” Brady wound down his window as the same police officer approached. Only this time he wasn’t alone and his gun was drawn.

“I’m gonna need you boys to step out of the vehicle,” he said as he aimed his gun steadily on them. “Hands where I can see them. Now!”

It was hard for Brady to remain calm. His gut twitched with nerves, as his heart beat out of control. Despite the fact that every part of him trembled he did what was asked. He and Jason stepped out of the car.

<><><><>

The steady beeping of Vivian’s heart monitor seeped into her subconscious, stirring her awake. When her eyes opened an instant pain hit her. It wasn’t physical, it was emotional. A deep, stabbing pain in her chest weighed her down. It felt like a black hole, sucking every ounce of her soul into the dark abyss.

“No,” she whimpered. “No.”

She tried to move her hands, but they were restrained. The heart monitor increased in intensity and the beeping went out of control.

The back of her head was elevated slightly and Vivian was able to see when a nurse barreled into the room. Her mouth and nose were covered with a mask, and her eyes were the only thing Vivian saw.

“One second,” the nurse held a syringe to the IV line.

Vivian felt the fabric of her scrubs brush against her hand, and with everything she had she extended her fingers latching onto the pocket of the nurse’s uniform.

The nurse reached down to remove her hand.

“Please,” Vivian whimpered with a raspy ache. “Please, please, please. I didn’t do it. I didn’t do it. Oh, God!” she cried out with a sob. “I didn’t do it.”

The nurse stared down at her.

Or did she?

Vivian was lost and confused. They arrested her like a criminal, throwing her to the ground and handcuffing her. They treated her as if she did it, maybe she did and didn’t realize it. Perhaps her mind was justifying her actions by creating something that never happened.

An illusion of the events.

A delusional state made more sense, because what Vivian actually recalled happening was too fantastic to be real.

“There you go, Bert,” Vivian braced Bert Daniels under the arm as she helped him stand and step out of the shower of his County Meadows room. “You okay? Did you get hurt?”

“No, I didn’t fall,” Bert smacked her hand away. “I told you, I bent down because I dropped the shampoo and I couldn’t get back up. Now, if you don’t mind, I am bare ass naked with my ding dang dong flapping in the wind.”

“I’ll leave you be. Press the call button if you need help again,” Vivian told him and stepped from the shower.

Not many residents showered unassisted, but Bert wouldn’t let an aide in there with him, so Vivian stood outside his door.

“Viv?” Alice approached. “Hey, your daughter has been trying to call you. She said it’s important.”

“Shit. Okay, can you stand here?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.” Vivian pulled her phone from her pocket and walked down the hall. Four missed calls from Ben’s phone. She immediately dialed. She had left work earlier the day before because her husband still wasn’t well. His fever had spiked, he was pale and wheezing when he wasn’t coughing. She begged him to see a doctor, but he insisted he was fine. Yet, he barely got out of bed.

“Mommy?” her daughter Kaddy answered the phone.

“Hey, sweetie, what’s up?”

“Something’s wrong with Daddy. Something is really wrong with him.”

“I’ll be right there.” After hanging up, Vivian apologized to Alice, but she had to leave and right away.

The entire short, ten minute ride was filled with thoughts of either calling an ambulance, or taking Ben to the hospital.

She made it home without a problem, but right after she pulled in the driveway she saw her youngest dart from around the house into the side door, and right behind her running, was Ben.

Immediately, Vivian was annoyed.

She left work and Ben was out running?

Not that she had a high paying job, but it was work and she liked her job.

She stepped out of the van and walked to the front door, Spud their dog barked continuously.

‘Jesus,’ she thought, ‘What is going on in there?’

The front door of the small frame house opened to the living room and the staircase was against the wall to the left.

Vivian dropped her purse and keys on the table by the door and turned toward the stairs. The dog kept barking.

“I’m home,” Vivian hollered. “I’ll be right down, I have to run to the bathroom.”

About five steps up, Vivian stopped when she heard the scream. It was Kira. Many times her child screamed in play, but nothing like she had just heard.

The mother in her knew her child was hurt.

Just as she turned she slipped on something and lost her footing tumbling down a couple steps. When she caught her balance, heart racing from the scare, she saw what caused the slippage.

Blood.

Her hand was covered with blood and hair.

“Oh my God.” Vivian lifted her eyes. The entire staircase was covered. Hurriedly she ran as fast as she could up the steps. At the top, across the walls of the hall, were smears of blood. Vivian didn’t need to go far to see the cause. The bathroom door was open and on the floor was her middle child, Karen.

Karen’s eyes were wide open, half of her scalp was exposed, hair gone, her abdomen gutted, her insides strewn across the bathroom floor.

In a fearful and gut wrenching reaction, Vivian screamed. She cried out loud and long. She wanted to drop down, grab her daughter, but she had to find her other two.

Racing from the bathroom she headed to the stairs, after two steps the blood on the hardwood surface was like a coating of ice, Vivian toppled down the stairs.

She landed with a ‘thud’ against the closet door that was on the landing. Spud barked and raced over to her.

A second later she had her bearings and stood only to see Ben standing in the center of the living room, holding their youngest child, Kira.

He gnawed viciously at her neck, shaking his head left to right like a lion disabling his prey. Kira’s body was limp in his grip.

Vivian couldn’t breathe, her heart pounded so badly she felt it in her chest.

Ben saw her.

He had a maddened look, as if he didn’t even know Vivian. His eyes were dark, face gray and blood covered his hands and mouth.

The second he saw Vivian, he threw Kira’s body like a doll. It bounced against the wall and dropped to the floor.

Vivian flew for the door.

Ben lunged.

He grabbed onto Vivian and sunk his teeth deep into her forearm. The pain was so intense Vivian couldn’t get enough air to scream.

Spud, as little as he was, tried with diligence to stop Ben.

He jumped up at Ben and latched on, snarling and shaking. Trying to be a hero.

Ben released his hold on Vivian and she ran. She had to make it to the other door.

Once she stepped foot into the dining room, she saw Kaddy.

Vivian froze.

Her poor daughter had met the same violent fate as her sisters. Torn apart, gutted.

‘Yelp’

Another aching, sick feeling shot through Vivian and she knew she had to run. Her feet felt heavy, glued to the floor.

An angry, almost demonic snarl was close by her side, she jolted to her left to see Ben. He reached out trying to grab her, but she ran. She had made it to the kitchen when he latched onto her again.

She struggled against his strong hold. Her arms reaching forward, her body shifting, trying to break free and then she saw it.

The cast iron frying pan on the stove.

His fingers dug into her back, and with everything she had she reached out with her fingers touching the pan. It was all she needed. Another inch she had it. Once it was in her grip she lifted the pan, and with everything she had she pulled away from his hold, swinging with the momentum of her turn she hit him.

Clonk.

She nailed him, Ben went down.

Vivian could have ran, but she didn’t.

She hit him again.

Ben didn’t stop fighting. He clawed at her legs, but Vivian didn’t stop.

Why wouldn’t he die?

Hit.

Hit.

Smash.

Die.

Gasp.

Even with the medication flowing through her veins Vivian relived the emotional pain and cried out. “No!”

“Give it a second,” the nurse said. “I promise it will work.”

“Please,” Vivian sobbed out the word. “Please.”

Another person flew into the room, this one a man.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“We’re trying to get her heart rate down.”

“When did you administer the medication?” he asked.

“Just now. But I didn’t administer the second dose yet.”

Vivian remembered it all and with it came such an excruciating pain, she just wanted to die. In fact, she wished she had died.

“Oh, God,” she cried out, sobbing.

“Vivian,” the man said calmly. “We need you to relax. Okay. It’s imperative.”

“I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it,” she cried. “My babies.”

“Vivian,” he called her name again.

“My babies,” she screamed. “Please, please, I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill my babies!”

He grabbed onto her hand. “We know.” He stared intently at her, trying to calm her. “Trust me, we know.”

FIVE – WHEN IN DOUBT

It was the strangest looking bologna, and none like Brady had ever seen. It was bread size and square, nothing seeped out over the edge of the sandwich.

Actually, it was kind of cliché in that it was the meal they gave Brady and Jason. A single bologna sandwich on two slices of white bread, an orange, and a bag, not bottle, of water with a tiny little straw that reminded him of his juice box days.

They were detained.

It wasn’t as if they were in a cell, but they might as well have been.

A small room in the police station, with one window near the ceiling, two cots and a locked door. The only thing that wasn’t cell like was the bathroom. There was a toilet and sink in a closet size room without a door.

After they stepped from their car they were handcuffed and placed in the squad car without any explanation.

Neither Brady or Jason argued, or fought. Figuring the fewer problems they caused the better off they would be.

The officer took their information and their phones before putting them in the room.

“How long are we going to be here?” Jason asked. “My wife is making pot roast and she doesn’t make that often.”

“For real, dude?” Brady asked.

“You’re going to miss dinner son,” the officer said. “We’ll call her and let her know.”

“Can you tell us why we’re under arrest?” Jason asked.

“You’re not under arrest. You’re detained. For security reasons.” On that note, the officer walked out and locked the door.

“We’re in here for security,” Brady said.” Because we saw that guy get shot by a soldier.”

“He wasn’t a soldier.”

“Dude, he was wearing a uniform.”

“Dude,” Jason said passive. “Next to Montana, Ohio is the biggest militia state. He was militia.”

“Hmm. Please tell me you deleted the pictures and messages.”

“I did. You know they have the technology to find stuff you deleted, right?”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that.” Brady took a seat on the cot. It wasn’t long after that they brought the bologna.

He wasn’t happy.

“Bologna,” Brady said of his sandwich. “My cousin was in county once. He said because he was arrested on the weekend all he ate was bologna. I remember cringing because I hate bologna.”

“I never had it,” Jason replied. “So I’m pretty excited to try it.”

“You never had bologna before? Who never eats bologna?”

Jason shook his head. “My mother never bought it and my wife refuses.”

“Oh, dude, you are so lucky. My mom is the queen of bologna. Bologna sandwiches, fried bologna, eggs and bologna. You name it.”

“Well, if you aren’t eating yours, I will. This is really good.”

“No, I’m hungry.” Brady lifted his sandwich. “I’m really shocked you aren’t more upset about this.”

“It’s fine,” Jason tossed his hand. “It’s kind of exciting. I mean, we aren’t in trouble. We really should be traumatized by what we saw, but thanks to video games that was pretty mild.”

“True.”

“Besides, this is the most excitement you and I have had together since your mom got into that fight when we took her Black Friday shopping.”

“That was five years ago,” Brady said. “We have exciting times.”

“No, we play video games and hang out. That’s why Corrie doesn’t care when I’m with you. You’re my safe friend. This isn’t going to last. You know my wife,” Jason said. “She has the video. We’re detained in a backward town with local militia posing as military. She’s all over social media and by now you can bet that video is viral.”

“You think?” Brady asked.

“Oh, yeah, for sure. You can bet within an hour, not only will be the news be back here, but …” Jason gave a confident nod. “Someone from the State Department will be opening this door.”

<><><><>

Colonel Linda Sharpe opened her bottom desk drawer, reached inside and pulled out the pint size bottle of whiskey. After taking a sip she replaced it in the drawer and regretted not having another.

It was a long day, another in a series of what seemed like never ending long days. As commander of the United States Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases (USAMRIID) Fort Detrick, she was used to long days, but the recent turn of events made it insane.

She didn’t understand. Not at first, anyways. Why her, why us?

She had a dismissive attitude about it until she was informed, that unless proven otherwise, the first case was connected to Fort Detrick. Something she didn’t know. Her company, her problem. Linda rapidly learned that the top of the chain of command doesn’t always know what’s going on at the bottom. It happened right under her nose.

It wasn’t to say she wasn’t aware, she was.

Four months earlier, eighteen soldiers returning home from policing action in Niger were transferred to Walter Reed with flu like symptoms.

All of them came down with it at the same time, mid-flight home.

She was informed, protocol was followed, the other twelve on the flight were isolated as well. When the eighteen soldiers made full recovery and no one else showed symptoms, Colonel Linda Sharpe closed her book on it.

That was all she knew.

No one informed her otherwise.

She was read the riot act up and down for not being on top of the happenings. It was a simple bug, no one worried about it, or at least projected worry to her. She would have been removed had they not needed her. Plus, putting someone else in there was making someone else here to blame, someone to take the fall if it came to that.

She was unofficially Ground Zero. They also had the facilities to study, learn and conquer it.

Study and learn … yes. Conquering, not so easy.

Admittedly, ignorance was her downfall. She was a field physician. She dealt with combat injuries, not viruses or sickness.

She thought the governments reaction to it was ridiculous and fantasy based. It reminded her of the paranoia during the Ebola crisis. Or so she thought until she saw pictures, read incident reports.

How did it slip by?

A delayed ticking time bomb was how it was described to her.

That wasn’t good enough.

Linda sent out the order that she wanted to know everything. Every detail.

She was still waiting.

In the meantime, her office was ‘unofficially’ an emergency command center with orders to keep it under wraps from the general population.

That wasn’t going to be easy.

She dreaded the thought of the media finding out. Thus far she had successfully intercepted them with believable cover stories for each incident.

But each day, almost every few hours, another incident popped up and it was getting harder to cover, especially when dealing with local authorities.

Small town sheriffs were a pain in the ass and weren’t falling for anything. They wanted to know why they were shutting down parts of their towns, or a street.

Like the sheriff of Wakeman, Ohio.

She could hear Major Brian James in the next room, dealing with it. Brian was her right hand man, her friend as well as colleague. Although she only heard one side, it was a long conversation that made her want to have another drink.

Reaching for her booze drawer, a knock at her door caused her to retract her hand. “Come in.”

“Okay, he’s good.” Major James stepped in. “He agreed to detain the two witnesses for seventy-two hours. They weren’t close enough to get exposed, but we need to keep them quiet until we know the town is clean.”

“Thank you.”

“Also, the one detainee sent a video to his wife of the incident.”

Linda closed her eyes briefly. “She posted it somewhere.”

“Yes. We think we got it before it went too far. I’m sure we removed it from online. Local Sandusky police were able to get her phone when they informed her that her husband was in custody. She isn’t reacting well. So we moved her to the Marriott and cut means of communications for three days.”

“Good. Good. Thank you.”

“Can I be blunt?” he asked.

“Please.”

“We’re doing well, but this isn’t going to work for long. I’m not a virologist or scientist, but at the rate this thing is moving I think we have a week before it’s too far ahead of us.”

Linda sighed heavily, she reached down to her drawer and pulled out that small bottle. She didn’t need to reply, her actions and facial expressions said it all.

Defeat.

Brian was wrong. To her, it was probably already ahead of them.

<><><><>

Who was this man? Vivian wondered. His blue, glove covered hand, clutching hers. His eyes staring at her over the top of his mask, trying hard to convey a sense of calm to her.

There was no calming her. The emotional pain was so crushing she just wanted to die.

“Kill me,” Vivian pleaded. “Please, please kill me.”

He peered up to the nurse in the room. ‘Can you give us a moment please?”

“Shall I administer the second shot?” she asked.

“Leave it. I’ll do it,” he replied. “Thank you.” Once the nurse had left the room he returned his focus to Vivian. “Vivian, I know what you’re asking. I can’t do that. I don’t want to do that.”

“My babies are gone. I don’t want to live.”

“I get that, but listen to me.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Aaron Finch. I’m an ep …” he paused and corrected himself. “I’m a doctor brought in especially for this case. We need to keep you calm, keep your heart rate down.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’ve been injured. I don’t know if you know this or remember it happening. You suffered several lacerations on your forearm and leg. They were rather deep, but we repaired them. They were human bite marks. Are you aware?”

Vivian shook her head. She didn’t care. She was so distraught there was no strength in her body.

“Are you in pain at all?”

She lifted her eyes to him. ‘My heart is broken in a million pieces, there’s no greater pain.”

“What about your injuries?”

“I don’t feel them,” Vivian said. “I don’t feel them at all.”

“You will once the local wears off.”

“Listen to what I am saying,” she sniffled. “I don’t care how bad it hurts. My children are gone. There’s nothing left for me. Nothing.”

“I wish I could tell you that you’ll feel better after you rest.” He stood and lifted the syringe. “I’ve let you remain upset too long.”

“I don’t want you giving me any sedatives.”

“You don’t have a choice. You’re vital. We need you alive and I need you calm. I can’t stress how important that is. I know you are in shock and you need to let your grief out. I know you want to scream, cry, break down, but right now that can’t be.” He injected the fluid into her IV. “I am really so sorry for your loss.”

“They said I killed them. I didn’t kill them.”

“I know. We all know.”

“Then why are they saying I did it?” she asked.

“Why? It has to be that way. Because the truth,” he exhaled heavily. “Is far too frightening for anyone to know.”

SIX – CHEESE AND CRACKERS

They heard the squeaky wheels of the cart nearing first, the double cough, followed by the jangle of keys.

Both Brady and Jason stood up from the bunks.

The door opened and the sheriff stood there.

“Are we allowed to leave?” Brady asked.

“Sorry. No.” The sheriff shook his head. There was something genuine about him. ‘It wasn’t my intention to hold you. It really wasn’t. In fact, I thought by now you boys would be gone. That’s not the case. I’m sorry about all this. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Our families have to be worried,” Jason said. ‘My wife.”

“I spoke to your wife, then your local police spoke to her,” the sheriff replied. “Right now, because you sent her that video, your wife and baby are being watched to make sure they don’t relay information.” He held up his hand. “No worries. They have a really nice suite at the Marriott.”

Jason sat on the bunk.

“Look, boys, I didn’t want to keep you here, I really didn’t.”

“We’re detained because of what we saw,” Brady said. “I get that. You’re keeping us here so we don’t say anything.”

“Actually, things are bigger than that,” the sheriff said. “For as much as I tried to get you two to leave, I was told to keep you.”

“By who?” Jason asked.

“Who do you think?”

Jason shook his head. “If you’re implying the government, why are they involved?”

“I can’t tell you. Just know you’re here and I feel bad.” The sheriff reached out and pulled the cart into the room. On it was a television. “Since you’re stuck here, I’m gonna try to make this as painless as possible. I got some clothes for you. Some snacks, soda and beer. Plus, I found an old video game unit with games in storage. It’ll pass the time.”

“Any idea when we can leave?” Brady asked.

“You’ll know as soon as I do. If you need anything just pound on the door and holler. We’re right down the hall. Good night boys.” The Sheriff coughed again, then walked out. He pulled the door closed and locked it.

Sighing out in frustration, Jason stood and walked over to the cart. “Let’s see what we got here.” He examined the television. “Look at the bulk of this fucking thing. How did people deal with these things?” He ran his hand over it. “Fucking ancient. Nineteen inch screen. Dude, check this out.” He knocked on the screen. “It’s glass.”

“Oh, that’s gonna suck for graphics.”

“Not really.” Jason lifted the game console.

“Is that Sega Genesis?”

“It is and …” he started laughing. “RCA jacks. Oh my God.”

“Hey, dude, you were talking about this being exciting. Yet, here you are again playing video games with me.”

“Yeah, ain’t that the truth?” With a shake of his head and a chuckle, Jason began to connect the game unit to the television. They would make the most of, what they believed to be, their only night in detainment.

<><><><>

Aaron Finch wasn’t a bad guy, at least he didn’t think so. Since he wasn’t married and had no children, he was able to go where his job dictated. He enjoyed it. Even though it was under dire circumstances he had the opportunity to see some pretty exotic places. From the Congo to Ukraine, even the outback, he had been there. Although, he wouldn’t classify Sandusky, Ohio as exotic, it was the most interesting and difficult case he had been involved with. This was the ‘big one,’ which he and every epidemiologist waited for their whole lives.

Shrouded in secrecy, only a very select few knew why he was at the hospital. His lab, expedient operating room, decontamination area, and especially patient, Vivian Cramer’s room were all located in the old wing being prepped for remodeling. He was on call and on site twenty-four seven, that was his job… just as it was Vivian Cramer’s role, and anyone else that would join his case load.

He hoped others like her would become available for research because he felt Vivian was on her way to being one very unique case study.

Aaron was one of many of the DRAFT. Dispatched Research and Analysis Field Team. He had been in touch with all of the others through group email and only four others had someone special like Vivian.

‘Keep an eye out,’ one wrote. ‘I thought I had one and then at the twelve hour mark, it changed.’

‘Mine waited nearly twenty-four hours before it changed,’ another wrote.

Aaron dismissed what they said, he was optimistic because Vivian wasn’t showing signs of any wound infection, the number one thing the others had.

Clearly, she had made it beyond the twelve hour mark. He had those test results before him and was preparing to call them in to some Colonel in Maryland.

Aaron questioned why that was. He wasn’t CDC, or WHO, or even FEMA. He was in the private sector, he worked at his own lab in Texas. Sure, he was always brought on site, but never before did he have to report to some Colonel, whose medical knowledge stopped at treating injuries on the field.

He supposed her work had to do more with the cover up and keeping it from the public portion. On that mark, with all the other cases, she was doing a pretty good job.

With a nurse on duty, and confident that Vivian would rest through the night, he prepared to call the colonel and then set his sights on his cot for a few hours sleep.

<><><><>

She had slept on her couch for a few hours. Linda knew the routine. Each incident had a DRAFT doctor assigned to it and each of them routinely called in. Sometimes Brian took the calls, but Linda tried to speak to them. The patients they dealt with were priority.

Suffice to say, Linda had not slept much.

She was awake and on her third sip of coffee when Doctor Aaron Finch called just after three am.

“Sorry if I woke you,” he said.

“No, I was awake. How is the Wakeman Woman?”

“Emotional.”

“Well, yes, she would be. Does she remember?”

“She remembers what happened,” Aaron said. “But we haven’t gotten into details yet. We’re keeping her sedated in case the heart rate has something to do with the PVI-2 in the blood stream.”

“Any signs.”

“None whatsoever at the twelve hour mark. I am being cautious because there could be a delay. I’m going to say that I doubt it. She was bitten pretty bad, yet her wounds aren’t showing immediate infection.”

“Good. Good.” Linda exhaled. “The facility should be ready in two days. I believe you are assigned to it?’

“I am, but I am not going until Mrs. Cramer is free and clear and can be moved there.”

“We should know in two days, right?”

“We should,” Aaron said. “I’m not aware of any other surviving victims from Wakeman.”

“Fortunately, Doctor, the Wakeman woman killed the soldier, number Fourteen, before he could attack anyone else outside the home. Which was a first. An autopsy will be performed on those victims tomorrow, or rather in a few hours, to see if they were infected at all prior to the attacks, especially since the father was a carrier.”

“Any word from Wakeman, the town?” he asked. “I’m in the dark, I’m pretty focused on the woman.”

“There were no other attacks. It stopped at soldier fourteen. However, we know his wife was caring for him and then went to work at a nursing home. Those at the home could potentially be a level two transmission. They can take up to a week to be symptomatic. However, we also know given the age of those in the home, they not only are more susceptible, but can also be symptomatic faster.”

“Any level one transmissions?’

“We’re watching law enforcement and emergency technicians that were on site.”

“Sadly,” Aaron said. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with completely. It has changed twice, it could change again.”

“I do understand. I know on your end that makes it harder to beat,” she said.

“They’re working on it.”

“There is a positive,” Linda said.

“And that is?”

“If we can’t cure it, we can defeat it,” she explained. “We keep those infected isolated and keep them from hurting and infecting anyone else. First sign of it in their blood we isolate them.”

“Kill camps?” Aaron said.

“If that’s what you want to call them. As harsh as it sounds, it is the only way to contain this. Round them up, euthanize them. Because once the infected dies, it’s dead,” she said. “They can’t spread the infection anymore.”

<><><><>

At the age of twenty-two Jerry Petrielo decided he wanted to go to college. But he was smart and knew he didn’t want to take on that sort of debt. Especially since he wanted to be a teacher.  Student loan payments would be far too high for the salary he’d make as a middle school educator. He made the decision to join the Army Reserves, and he believed it to be the smartest one of his life. One weekend a month, two weeks out of the year and college was paid for. With the exception of the two deployments he had seen, it wasn’t bad.

Except for his current situation.

His unit was put on alert for a domestic deployment. He wasn’t told what, or where. Jerry assumed it was a disaster of some kind, or a flood.

He never thought he would have been called to seal up a small Ohioan village with a population of a little over a thousand, for a murder none the less.

The perimeters were easy enough. Only a few roads led in or out. Outside of Wakeman people were told it was a gas leak. Which seemed to be a common occurrence in the United States lately. The residents however were told it was a possible rabies outbreak, and they were to stay in their homes.

It was some sort of infection; Jerry knew that. He wasn’t told what it was. Rabies sounded just about right to him. One of the residents went nuts and killed their entire family.

There weren’t many soldiers on the ground in Wakeman. Some held posts keeping the town closed, others walked a beat, and some, like Jerry, took shifts between patrolling outside the by County Meadows Assisted Living, and sitting a block away, inside and outside, of a twenty foot trailer, set up as a temporary morgue.

Jerry thought it was wrong to put the morgue so close to the Assisted Living. He thought about those who lived there, looking out and seeing it. Then again, they probably didn’t know what it really was.

He also didn’t understand why they needed not only a temporary morgue, but such a large one at that. They must have expected more people to be infected, thankfully that didn’t happen.

There were only three victims.

It was Jerry’s job, along with another soldier, to guard the morgue trailer that housed them.

For the next four hours, he and the other guy would guard the area around the trailer, and once an hour go inside and check the temperature, along with making sure the phones and computers were operational.

Easy enough.

It was quiet so far. Jerry would walk around, occasionally looking over to the guards outside of the Assisted Living.

Now it was his turn to do it.

He wasn’t privy to the details of the family massacre. No one warned him when he stepped inside the morgue and turned on the main light he would not only see three bodies, but three small ones, too.

As a teacher, it hit him really hard when he saw them.

His heart sunk a little and immediately he just wanted to get out.

Three bodies on three tables. One was really small.

First thing he did was check the temperature, it was fine. Then he lifted the phone … worked. Lastly was the computer. Was it running and did it have internet connection?

He walked over to it and that was when he saw the clipboard. On it was a preliminary report, he spotted the names.

Kaddy, Karen, and Kira Cramer.

All sisters.

He ran his finger over the mouse pad and woke the computer from power saving mode. He saw a connection and just wanted to leave.

Turning, he caught sight of something through the corner of his eye.

His heart skipped a beat as he spun around.

Nothing.

He shook his head in disbelief at how he had spooked himself, he then walked toward the door and reached to shut off the main light.

After he did, he looked back to make sure the lab lights were still on. They were and gave a blue hue to the back portion of the morgue where the bodies were.

Just as he was ready to leave, he saw it again, movement. Only this time it didn’t scare him. He was certain he had seen something.

One of the sheets had moved.

Jerry went to investigate. More than likely it was the air conditioning.

Slowly he walked towards the back area near the bodies.

He lifted his hand toward the ceiling to see if he could catch the breeze, but he felt nothing and heard nothing.

Jerry chuckled. “It’s your imagination. What is wrong with you?”

After exhaling in relief, he took one step back before jumping from his skin. He wanted to run, but he was frozen in his stance.

The first body to his left, that of Kaddy Cramer … sat up.

<><><><>

He wasn’t spry, he wasn’t quick, but Bert Daniels shot from lying to a sitting position the moment he heard that ungodly scream. He hadn’t moved or jolted that fast in decades, not even when he had to use the bathroom.

He wasn’t sleeping. He had a hard time sleeping since they placed a quarantine on Country Meadows. So he knew he wasn’t dreaming.

He heard that scream.

A male voice, long and loud. It had an echoing sound to it, but it wasn’t far away.

He swung his legs over the bed and pulled his walker near to steady himself as he stood.

It came from outside, and Bert inched his way to the window not far from his bed.

He was on the ground floor, the drapes were partially drawn and the window was open just a smidge.

As soon as he reached the window, he heard another scream.

Instantly, he slammed the window closed, locked it and pulled the drapes together.

‘Calm down, Bert. Calm down,’ he told himself. ‘You don’t want to have a coronary.’

Drawing up courage, he leaned forwarded. Hand on the drape, he parted them slightly and he peered out the window. Not far from the edge of the parking lot was that government trailer. The lights flickered, other soldiers ran toward it.

When yet, another scream rang out, Bert pulled back.

“Good Lord,” Bert swiped his hand across this mouth.

Something was happening and it wasn’t good.

Screaming, soldiers running, then more screaming and shouting.

Holding his walker, Bert moved across his room. He paused in the kitchenette area and checked his cupboards. Then he made his way to his room door.

The doors on the room were heavy, fire doors, and rules be damned, Bert reached up and locked it.

He had food, crackers, cheese, mainly snack stuff, but food nonetheless. Plus, he was safe. No one was getting in and Bert wasn’t going anywhere until the craziness was done.

He just wished he knew exactly what the craziness was.

SEVEN – AN OUNCE OF TRUTH

“Parasitosis.” Brickman was his name, or at least Linda believed that was his name. He was the lead scientist from a private sector BSL 4 lab working on the case. He occupied the top right hand square of her four screen video conference.

The President was in the upper left.

“Parasitosis,” Brickman repeated.

“Para … what?” asked the President.

“A parasite. Sort of,” he said. “Four months ago …”

“Four months?” the President blasted. “Why did I only hear about this two weeks ago?”

Brickman replied, “Because it wasn’t a national emergency, and possibly global until then. With all due respect, I will be more than happy to continue with my findings if you care to listen?”

The President waved his hand. “Go ahead. Four months ago is when what happened?”

“Thirty soldiers returning from Niger,” Linda explained. “Eighteen of them got sick on the flight and were brought here to Walter Reed. We isolated the other twelve. They never showed symptoms. We were treating them here and they made a full recovery. We thought nothing of it.”

Brickman added. “They all demonstrated flu like symptoms. Fever, chills, headache, coughing. Problem was, it wasn’t a bacteria or virus, it was a parasitic infection. Most people when they think parasite, they think tapeworm or something you can easily see. It’s not that simple. And sometimes neither is treating it. I received samples from the first wave, and it is like nothing I have ever seen. Parasites are always changing and evolving, they will survive when all else dies.”

“How did eighteen soldiers get it?” the President asked.

“Same source,” Brickman answered. “Sir, there are two ways to get infected with a parasite. Either the parasite itself, usually from direct contact via saliva or water. They get into your body, lay eggs in the digestive tract and from there the parasite makes its way through the blood stream, usually to the brain. Or the other way is to ingest or come in contact with a larva, which enter the system very easily. Parasitic infections are highly contagious. Usually you are highly contagious before you show any symptoms.”

“We followed procedure,” Linda said. “We treated them with antiparasitic drugs. They recovered and we sent them on their way.  That is why you didn’t know.”

“Thirty soldiers, twenty locations,” Brickman said, “Parasites are also resistant to antiparasitic drugs. Some go dormant and then come back stronger, as it did with these men. It took eight weeks and they got ill once more. They were all brought back to Walter Reed. It was then they discovered they needed to try phage therapy.”

“And that is?” The President asked.

“Killing the parasite with a virus.” Brickman said. “It’s common. It was tough to find the correct phage virus to combat it, but they did. Again, the men recovered, they were kept an extra week and sent back home. And that’s when it started. The parasite didn’t succumb to the virus, it married it.”

The President sighed out and sat back. ‘I’m not a scientist, but to me it sounds like it mutated.”

“It did, and badly, too,” Brickman said. “When the new and improved parasitic virus woke up, it caused severe flu like symptoms as the body tried to fight it, until it took over the brain completely. The infected lost all reasoning and became enraged and maddened as if on some sort of mind control substance. Exhibiting great strength and extremely dangerous behavior.”

“And contagious.” The President added.

“They were contagious long before they lost their minds. At that point, out of control. I told you the parasite was like nothing I have ever seen. Now you have this super microscopic … thing … which is impervious to everything, except extreme cold and long exposure to high temperatures.”

“Not true,” Linda intervened. “There are four people right now who are showing no signs of infection when they should have. Their bodies are combating it.”

“And we’re planning to work with that,” Brickman said. “Right now, this scares me. Mother Nature created a fantastic biological weapon. Man made it better and inadvertently deployed it by way of eighteen infected soldiers, sending them out and across the country to spread the seed wherever they went.”

“Christ.” The President rubbed his forehead. “Do we know …”

Linda didn’t hear what the President said. Her attention went to Brian who stepped into the office without knocking. He wouldn’t have done so if it wasn’t important. By the look on his face something was dire.

Over the laptop he handed her an open folder.

She hit ‘mute’ on her computer’s microphone and looked. Her eyes widened and immediately she unmuted her end of the conversion. “Mr. President, I have to get back to you.”

“Are you goddamn kidding me?” the President said. “You keep me in the dark at how bad this thing is and then…”

“I have to go.” Linda stood up.

“This better be important.”

“It is.” She shut the laptop lid.

“Did you just hang up on the President?” Brian asked.

“I did.” She stared at the folder. “This can’t be right.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“It’s impossible.”

“Not really. Before today I would have thought so. The photos show otherwise,” Brian pointed. “There’s video as well.”

“And is Wakeman the only report of this?” she asked.

“At this time. What do you want to do?”

“Seal it up. In fact, seal up all twenty locations. Bring in extra soldiers if you have to, but seal them in tight until we can figure this out. No one gets in, or out. Whether they are sick, well, alive or …” She closed the folder. “Dead. No one leaves those towns.”

EIGHT – CHANGES

THREE DAYS LATER

It didn’t matter how much rest she did or didn’t get, Vivian woke up with a hard lump in her stomach and crushing pain to her chest each morning when the reality check hit her.

Her children were gone. Their poor bodies desecrated. She was sickened when she thought of the fear and pain they must have felt in their final moments of life after their own father lost his mind and went on some murderous rampage.

Their very own father.

Ben.

She mercilessly slaughtered her husband with a frying pan, enraged over what he had done. A man she had been married to for fifteen years. She was without thought or regret over bashing in his brains.

All that trauma to her body, mind and soul and for two days no one said much to her except to check her injuries.

She felt the pain from them, but didn’t say anything when the doctor asked. He looked preoccupied and worried, and the day before he was her only caretaker.

No nurses were on duty.

The television didn’t work and there was an increased amount of sirens outside the hospital.

This morning was different. No breakfast tray, no IVs in her arm, and it was the first day she didn’t feel drugged and she wasn’t restrained.

She swung her legs over the bed with a sense of freedom.

Could she leave? She wasn’t attached to anything.

Vivian stood up. No one was there to make sure she didn’t take off. She could actually use the bathroom without someone outside the door.

On the chair by the bed were folded clothes. A pair of sneakers rested on top. Vivian grabbed them and limped her way to the bathroom.

It took her awhile to get dressed. Her body was stiff and her injured arm felt tight every time she moved it.  When she opened the bathroom door, Dr. Aaron Finch stood there.

“We need to go, Vivian, and we need to go now,” he said.

“You want to take a moment to drug me?” she asked sarcastically.

“I have medication in my things, things for pain. They’re in the car, but no more drugging you.”

“I was being facetious.”

“Please. We need to go.”

“Go where?”

“I’ll explain once we’re on our way. Come.” He reached out for her, speaking with urgency. “Everything is downstairs.”

With almost a laugh of disbelief, she smacked him away. “You can not possibly be serious. I’m not going anywhere but home.” Brushing by him, she walked to the hall.

“Vivian.”

“I assume I’m not under arrest,” she said as she walked down the hall.

“You’re not.”

“Then I want to go home.”

“You can’t.”

“Why?” she asked.

“I’ll explain it to you once we’re safe. You can’t go that way.”

Vivian thought he was absurd. The hall was empty. They were obviously in a section of a building that was vacant, being remodeled. There was evidence of that everywhere. Paint buckets, plastic coverings. In fact at the end of the hall was a plastic drape. Though not clearly, she could see a set of doors, or at least what looked like a set on the other side and she headed that way.

“Vivian. Please.”

She stayed focused and moved forward. She could hear him nearing her, pleading.

As her hand reached for the plastic drape, she heard a loud ‘bang’. It sounded like something hit into the door or wall.

She paused.

“You can’t go that way,” Aaron said. “There’s only one way out and if we wait any longer it won’t be safe.”

What was he talking about?

She parted the plastic curtain and the second she did, it was like a valve was released and the floodwaters rushed in. But instead of water, it was people. Rage filled people all slamming at once into the set of double doors causing the doors to bounce on their hinges.

A shovel was placed between the handles as an extra hold. Multitudes of pale and bloody faces fought for a spot to peer hungrily through the small rectangular windows above the handles.

“Holy shit.”

Aaron pulled her back and let the curtain drop. “That’s what I mean. Now, let’s go, the other end.”

Vivian felt him pulling her and she moved backwards a few steps then turned around. She walked as best as she could. It hurt with every step, sharp pains shot from her shin to her hip.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“I promise I’ll explain.” He led her to the other end of the hall and to the stairwell next to an elevator. Before entering he lifted a radio. “Paul, you there?”

Crackled. “Yeah. What’s taking so long, Doc?”

“We’re getting ready to come down the stairs. Be there in a minute. Is it still clear?”

“For now. Better hurry.”

“Got it.” He placed the radio in his pocket, then slowly opened the door and peeked in. “Come on. It’s clear.”

He went cautiously. He wasn’t just barreling down the stairs blindly. He looked over the railing, then took hold of Vivian’s arm and moved with her.

They made it to the next level, and Vivian saw that door was barricaded. She could hear the pounding and shoving on that one. Had she not been in a state of shock, she would have been scared. People were attacking, going nuts.

It was surreal and she hadn’t a clue what was happening. A part of her thought it was all a dream.

At the bottom of the stairwell was a door.

Aaron paused before pushing it open. “Listen to me. When I open this, there is going to be a black SUV there. Do not hesitate, just get right in, okay?”

Vivian nodded.

He lifted the radio. “We’re at the door. Still clear?”

“Still, but I see them up ahead. Go now.”

With the weight of his body, Aaron pushed the door open.

The sun was bright, nearly blinding Vivian and making it hard for her to see. She rushed out to the vehicle a few feet from the door.

As instructed she jumped into the back seat.

Aaron was barely in the front seat when the driver said, “Buckle up.”

He had the car in gear and moving before Aaron had shut the door.

Vivian wasn’t ready for the maniacal driving, she flew sideways to her left as the SUV peeled out and drove erratically, causing her to slide back and forth on the back seat, trying to get her bearings as the two men carried on a conversation.

“It’s not far,” Aaron said to the driver.

“I know. A ferry is waiting. Ramps down, all we need to do is pull up and in. He’ll take off. We have to let the guy stay.”

“That’s fine,” Aaron said. “As long as he knows he has to go into quarantine.”

“He knows. Son of a bitch.”

“Just hit them.”

“Huh?” Vivian sat up just as the driver careened into a person. The body flipped up on to the hood of the SUV and rolled off.

Thump. Thump.

He hit another and another.

“What the hell?” Vivian shouted. “You’re running them over?”

Neither man said anything.

She turned to look out the back window. She saw a mob of people behind them, running fast, trying to catch the SUV that got away too quickly.

It wasn’t long, after a few minutes of hard left turns and rights, squealing tires, that they neared their destination.

“Looks clear,” Aaron said. “Just pull up, I’ll unlock the gate.”

“You sure?” the driver asked.

“Yeah. I am. It’s better that way.”

The SUV stopped. “Shit. Be fast. Look. Down there.”

Aaron opened the door and jumped out.

Vivian looked to her right and out the window. Sure enough, there was another mob and as soon as Aaron was out of the SUV, they ran fast toward them.

The driver slammed on the gas, causing Vivian to jolt forward and back. She should have buckled in.

He kept on driving and didn’t stop.

Again, she turned in her seat, looking back.

Aaron secured the gate and backed away just as that same mob of people arrived. Then Aaron ran toward the SUV.

“Come on, Aaron, come on,” the driver beckoned. “Is he close? Do you see him?”

“He’s coming,” Vivian replied.

“Good.”

Vivian was still watching for Aaron when she felt the bump as the SUV drove over something then come to a stop. She wasn’t paying attention to where she was or what was going on, she was more focused on Aaron.

The driver opened the door and got out, shouting. “Get ready to go!”

“You got it,” another voice responded.

Aaron was close. Behind him the mob shook the fence and some even were climbing over it. Vivian opened the back door and stepped out.

They actually were on a ferry. The engines revved and the vessel jolted.

She stayed next to the SUV, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. It was almost like a riot.

It was fascinating and frightening to watch.

Aaron boarded, and together with the driver, they lifted the ramp as the ferry slowly pulled out.

Looking back, Vivian watched the mob push so hard against the fence that it collapsed, and they all raged forward toward the ferry.

None of them, though, attempted to get into the water. They stopped right at the end of the pier, a few falling in from the momentum of their run.

“You alright?” Aaron asked, slightly out of breath.

“Yes.” Vivian nodded. “I want to go home. My children were killed. I need to see them. I need to bury them. Have a funeral…”

“Vivian,” he stopped her. ‘It can’t be that way right now.”

“Why?”

“It just can’t. So much has happened, the normalcy of a funeral isn’t happening now. I understand you need to go home. I get that. I do. One day, I promise, you will. Not now. You can’t. It’s just not possible.”

“What’s going on?” Vivian looked back at shore as they moved farther away. “Why are we being chased?”

“It’s not as simple as a one sentence explanation.”

“Then try. I deserve to know.”

“You do,” Aaron said. “I will tell you once we get there.”

“Get where?” Vivian asked.

“To our safe location.” Aaron placed his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her clockwise. “Our safe place.” He pointed. “About three miles out.”

NINE – WAITING

Brady walked from the bathroom with a bottle of water. “Is it my imagination,” he said. “Or does bathroom water always taste different?”

“No. I always thought it tasted softer,” said Jason as he fiddled with the television.

“Yeah, yeah, exactly. At least we have it though. My throat is raw.”

“Well, you shouted for the last two hours straight. You’re hoarse now.”

Jokingly, Brady imitated the ‘nay’ of a horse as he sat on the bed. “Anything?”

“Nope.” Jason tapped the television. “I can’t get a signal.”

“What time is it?”

Jason looked down to his watch. “Just about noon.”

With a long drawn out, “fuck” Brady shook his head. “It’s been almost twenty-four hours since anyone has been in here.”

“Yep.”

“Since we heard anything.”

“Yep.”

“What’s wrong?” Brady asked.

“Really, you’re asking me that?”

“It’s just you’re answering with one word.”

“Oh, I’m just thinking about Corrie and the baby.” Jason stood and started to pace. “I mean what is my wife thinking? Is she worried? Are they telling her everything is fine? I don’t know.”

“I hear you. I’m worried about my mom. She wasn’t feeling well. I hope they at least called her.  Hey, thanks for the insight.”

“What are you talking about?” Jason asked.

“Well, you had a feeling something was wrong. You said not to eat. To save it.”

“Yeah, well, I thought it was strange when he brought all those snacks in. But when the sheriff was here yesterday, he looked bad. Like worried or stressed, and we didn’t get a tray, we got a jar of peanut butter, jelly, bread and a box of snack cakes. Who does that? He was giving us supplies. At least I thought. Enough to last a couple days,” Jason said. “If you weren’t so consumed with that game, you would have heard him say, ‘Don’t eat all those snacks in one day boys, make it last’.”

“I did hear him. I thought he was doing that parent thing. You know when our parents would go grocery shopping and we’d go for the bags with the snacks? They used to say the same thing.”

“True. I just got a different reading on it.”

“When he didn’t come back last night, we talked about him being busy. What do you think now?”

“It can only be one of two things,” Jason said. “Either they all left and were evacuated for the gas leak and we were forgotten or ….”

“They’re all dead from the gas leak.”

“Yep.”

“So you believe the gas leak story.”

“I do now. I mean think about it,” Jason said. “What if the gas leak was the reason the woman went crazy and killed her family? What if the gas made others crazy?”

“Ah, man, that was why they shot that guy.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, if there’s really a gas leak. And everyone died …”

“I want to believe we were left behind.”

“But if we weren’t, how did we live?”

Jason pointed to the window that was high near the ceiling. “We are obviously in the basement. That window is sealed. That door hasn’t been open.”

“So we’re stuck here.” Brady stood and looked up to the window. It was about three feet long and two feet wide.

“No. We can break that. Climb out,” Jason said. “At least one of us.”

“But if everyone is dead out there. Shit.” Brady paced. “Gas would have to dissipate, right?”

“Unless it’s a slow leak.”

“What do you think we should do?”

“Wait. They may come back.  I’m also not gonna be stupid enough to climb out that window and die from poisonous gas.”

“What if they don’t come back? Dude, I am not gonna die in this room either.”

“We listen to what the sheriff said. We make our supplies last. After they’re gone, if no one comes for us, then we take our chances. Until then …” Jason walked over to the television. “I’m hooking the game system back up and we bide our time.”

“Just wait?”

“My wife and kid need me … alive. So yes,” Jason said. “We wait.”

<><><><>

Linda sipped on her take out coffee and nibbled on a donut she got at a local shop whose name sounded like a throwback to hippies in the seventies. It was the first time in days she had left her office. Not only that, she left base and traveled into civilian territory, and it worried her.

Why?

Normalcy.

Everyone acted normal.

What happened outside their world didn’t bother them. They went on as usual, working, school, griping that their Starbucks order was incorrect. The general ignorance baffled Linda. She expected chaos, downfall, instead she saw the attitude of ‘well, it isn’t us’.

But it was them. It would be them. They just didn’t know it yet.

She stared at her charted map of the United States. In a few weeks it had went from four or five incidents to something wide spread. Once PVI mutated again, it was game over. In three days it was like wild fire.

The map was color coded. A county was marked red even if there was only one case. Black if it was overrun.

The biggest affected area looked like the letter ‘Y’.

The color red formed a hook from Minnesota, clipping some of Iowa, and it ran from Illinois, included all of Michigan, as it crossed only the tip of Indiana, then dipping down to cover the northern part of Ohio and Pennsylvania, it ended in New York.

Wisconsin and Michigan were completely red.

A tail of red ran westward toward Texas.  Within that ‘Y’ were freckles of black.

There were a few red dots here and there, east, west and south, all in all, nineteen states were affected and a total of four hundred and thirty-two counties had the infection.

Eighteen counties were considered ‘Dead’.

Yet, people in Baltimore still waited in line for their morning latte.

The news covered it, twenty-four seven, calling it some sort of viral phenomenon that experts were working on. A biological weapon, terrorist attack. Cities, counties, states, all with border patrols. Yet, some woman in a yellow blouse chewed out a barista over the temperature of her coffee.

Unreal.

Linda was in deep thought. So much so, that when there was a knock at her office door, she jumped a little.

“Come in.”

“Colonel.” Brian walked in.

“Morning Major,” she said.

“I wanted to let you know the sixth and final Nostrum arrived at location.”

“Nostrum?” she shook her head. “That’s an odd name.”

“That’s the code name.”

“Yes, but when I hear it, it reminds me about hearing of those traveling medical shows with the miracle cures.”

“Isn’t it though?” Brian asked.

“Yes, yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“All six have arrived and are getting situated. Some are aware of what is going on, others need to be informed. Dr. Finch is there with the team working on it and a few civilians who helped get the Nostrum there, have been given sanctuary.”

“Any infection?” Linda asked. “With the team or civilians?’

“None yet.”

“Good. Hopefully we’ll find more of these Nostrum.”

“Hopefully.”

“You know, I am looking at this,” Linda said. ‘I was told to try to contain it. It went ballistic on us. It attacked us like an invading force.”

“Yes, it did.”

“We now need to take a different approach.”

“Ma’am?” Brian asked.

“It’s an invasion.”

“Yes, and other countries are reporting…”

“I don’t give a shit about other countries,” she said. “I care about mine. We have been invaded. We’re at war against this infection and infected. Time to treat it that way. Instead of containing it, while they try to cure it, we need to kill it.”

“The latest mutation …”

“Those infected, they can still be stopped and put down. Once we eliminate an infected, no matter which state they are in, they are eliminated. So instead of setting up welfare borders, we need to go in there and clear the area of all infected.”

“Treat them as enemies.”

“They are enemies. Hell bent on destroying us. We start with those stupid kill camps I authorized two days ago.”

“Playing devil’s advocate here. I agree with your plan, but …” Brian said. “With all those affected counties and states we are looking at tens of millions infected. If we took every active, retired and reserve soldier and put them on the front lines, that’s still only one point five million. The infected outnumber our soldiers ten to one.”

“That still leaves a hundred million able bodied Americans to fight. That’s enough to beat this.”

“And how do we get them?” Brian asked.

With a sigh, Linda finally faced him. “I was out and about today. People don’t care, they aren’t paying attention. We spent so much time burying this, they think this will just pass.”

“The President wants us to keep it low key. He’s downplaying it to keep everybody calm. That’s what we’re supposed to do. Right now, society isn’t falling apart.”

“Yes, I know, but it will as this thing grows. That is going to happen. We need to beat it. To do that, we need soldiers on the front line killing the infected. So we leak an honest map to the media, get our best PR and marketing people on this and do what the army has always done when they need manpower,” Linda said. “We recruit.”

<><><><>

Along with her emotion of grief, Vivian was angry. The second the ferry docked, she turned to Aaron and bluntly told him. ‘We’re here. Now you will tell me what the hell is going on. Why I can’t go home. Why that mob was chasing us.”

“Agreed. You deserve to know. Maybe you should have something to keep you calm.”

“I don’t ever want medicated again.”

“I was uh, thinking more along the lines of a drink.”

Aaron explained the island tourist attraction just off the coast of Sandusky, Ohio was evacuated and cleared for the project, then he explained what he could. They sat at a two seater, outdoor café table, just at the end of the dock. Vivian rolled her drink between her hands.

“After I did … what I did to Ben,” Vivian said. “I was angry, I didn’t care. He killed my children. But you know, stuck in a room by myself, no TV, you constantly sedating me, the dreams were horrible. I started to feel guilt. Now …” she shook her head. “I’m angry over what happened, but I don’t hate him like I did that day.”

“You did a pretty rough job. There was nothing recognizable of his …”

Vivian peered up.

Aaron cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

“When he came home from Walter Reed after deployment, they said he had the flu. I would video chat with him. He looked sick. When he got home he looked better, but something was off.  When they called Ben back to Walter Reed, he looked as if he made a full recovery. He drove there.”

“Most of the men weren’t symptomatic yet,” Aaron said. “They were brought in as a precaution and over the course of a couple days we saw it came back. They were treated, their blood was clear and we sent them on their way. It was just in a remission, or metamorphosis.”

“When did he get contagious?”

“About two days before he showed symptoms.”

“He was bad, you know,” Vivian said. “Headache, fever. I begged him to go to the doctor, to call Walter Reed. He didn’t.”

“You just need to know, there was nothing that could be done. No one saw this coming and some of the best minds in the world worked on this. Nothing has ever happened like this.”

“That’s not true,” Vivian said.

“What do you mean?” asked Aaron.

“You said it was parasitical. Parasites that go to the brain are known to cause irrational behavior.”

“Vivian, come on. Irrational behavior, yeah. Tearing people apart with bare hands, that’s a bit more than irrational behavior.”

“Am I a carrier?” Vivian asked.

“Not at all.”

“So, you’re saying all those people in the mob had this?”

Aaron nodded.

“If it started with the eighteen soldiers, how did it get to Sandusky? I had to bring it.”

“Oh, you did. But it wasn’t you that spread it. The paramedic that brought you, the police that came to check on you. This thing is so contagious, it’s scary,” Aaron explained. “It’s microscopic. It could have been on their shoes, anywhere. It didn’t respond to any existing regimen or cure. Hell, it is impermeable to water treatment. Someone with the infection, takes a piss, flushes, that water is clean with the exception of PVI.”

“How do you stop it?”

“There has got to be a way to kill it,” Aaron said. “That’s why we’re here. To work on it. You and five others can’t get it. We tested your blood and tissues, your defenses defeat it.”

Vivian nodded. “Then you need us to try to make a cure.”

“Yes.”

“Do what you need to do.”

“Thank you for that.”

“Is everyone on the island immune or resistant?”

Aaron shook his head with a chuckle. “No, not at all. Well, some are. Not like the Nostrum.”

“What is that?”

“You and the five others. A Nostrum is another name for miracle cure. So that’s what we’re calling you. All of you could walk through infected blood barefoot and not a single larva would live in your system. Some people here, the infection can penetrate them just by walking in an area. More than likely, they’ve already been infected. It’s just dormant, like your husband’s was. We’ll catch it when they emerge.”

“What about you?” she asked.

“Me, I fall into general immunity. I can get it. Just not as easy as most. I’d have to be bit or scratched.”

“What about drinking tap water?” she asked.

“I’m gonna say no simply because I was drinking it before we realized it was spreading that way. I’m not taking chances though. I’ve been drinking bottled water and wearing goggles when I shower. Still doesn’t guarantee I won’t get it.”

“That’s a hell of a way to live.”

Aaron shrugged. “I can’t obsess about it. No one can. It is what it is. That’s why we’re working so hard.”

“Am I prisoner here?”

“We prefer you not to leave the island. But you can feel free to move around. Everyone’s gone, it’s just you and the other Nostrum, the research team, a few soldiers and those who helped get the place ready. In fact …” Aaron stood. “We have your room set up at the Resort. Would you like to go there?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Grabbing her drink, Vivian stood. “What about clothing?”

“We found some things. But there are shops on the island.”

“So, steal clothes.”

“Mark what you take. The government has the bill.” Aaron winked.

She walked with him, slowly of course. Even though it was a short distance, it was a long haul to go on a bad leg.

The Island Venture Resort was not as grand looking as the name made it sound. The yellow frame resort, set near the bay, was quaint and charming. A two and a half story, ‘L’ shaped structure surrounded by a walking path lined with flowers. Each room had its own entrance with white chairs outside.

The only things that offset the beauty were the research mobile units in the parking lot adjacent to the resort.

Her room was the third from the lobby, Aaron swiped the card key and handed it to her as he opened the door. “I’m not gonna lie. We don’t have anyone preparing food. But there are prepackaged meals in the dining room and the kitchen is stocked. We need you to eat. So if finding your own ...”

“I’ll be fine,” Vivian cut him off and stepped into the room.

It was nice, modern and clean. A typical looking motel room. One bed, a chair, couch and table.

“The bag on the bed has clothing for you. It isn’t much.”

Vivian turned her head to look. Just as she acknowledged what he said, she spotted them on the dresser.

Six framed pictures perched there. They were the same pictures that graced the mantel in her house. Photos of her children, her husband, them as a family.

She stared coldly at them.

“Vivian?”

“How did you get these?”

“When the final team went through Wakeman, I knew you would be coming here. I … told them to grab pictures for you, if they could. The glass is broke because we ran them through extremely cold temperatures to kill …” He paused. “Vivian, I’m sorry. I thought you’d want them.”

She spun to him. “You went into my home. You sent strangers into my home?”

“To get you photos of your children.”

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, I don’t,” Vivian said with edge. “But I wanted to go home. If I wasn’t under arrest, if I’m immune, I should have been able to go there.”

“You can. When this is all said and done. If I’m still alive and standing I will take you there myself.”

“I don’t get why I couldn’t go before we came here?”

“Are you serious?” Aaron asked. “Did you see Sandusky? That was a residual infection point. By the time you were well enough to go there, it was too late. It was far too dangerous.”

“What do you mean?”

“Vivian, Wakeman was like a ground zero. We’re just waiting for it to burn out. There’s nothing left there,” Aaron said. “Nothing left alive, that is.”

<><><><>

Brady had an itchy left leg. Behind the knee and just above the calf muscle, the itch drove him nuts. He scratched and scratched. It even invaded his dream to the point he heard the scratching.

Scratch.

Scratch.

He woke suddenly from the dream and sat up in bed.

“Fuck, I bet there’s bed bugs.” He flipped off the covers and reached for his leg.

Scratch.

Scratch.

Brady paused. He wasn’t even touching his leg.

He heard the scratching noise.

Swinging his legs from the bed to the floor, he prepared to wake up Jason.

Scratch. Scratch.

The noise came from behind him.

Slowly, he turned his head and lifted his eyes to the window.

A bloody hand clawed against the glass. Fingers curling slowly.

Then instantly a face appeared next to the glass. Flush against the surface, the window smashed his appearance and whatever was wet on his skin caused a squeaking noise.

Brady screamed and jumped.

He screamed loudly.

“What?” Jason jumped up. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Something. Something is out there.” Brady pointed, his hand shaking.

“What are you talking about?”

“Jason, look…”

A lamp was on the table between the two beds, just under the window. Jason turned it on.

Brady lowered his arm.

The window went black.

“You’re dreaming, dude,” Jason said. “Nothing is ….”

Scratch. Scratch. Squeak.

Both men looked at each other.

Brady lowered his voice to a whisper. “Something, someone is out there.”

Jason walked over to the bathroom and flicked on the light, then he returned and stood next to Brady. He reached down and shut off the lamp. When he did, both men screamed and jumped. It wasn’t just one hand, one face, but multitudes, clawing, scratching, shoving together trying to get through.

Jason turned on the lamp.

“Turn it off, turn it off, they can see us!” Brady yelled, then reached down and turned it off.

As soon as the room went dark, both Brady and Jason spun on their heels and raced for the door.

“Help us!” Jason pounded on the door. “Anyone!”

Brady pounded as well, pulling on the knob. “Someone!”

In the midst of pounding and pulling, Brady heard something. A knocking. Where was it coming from? It sounded like an echo of their attempts to get out. He stopped and reached for Jason. “Shh.” He pulled Jason’s hand away.

The knocks and bangs continued, but only this time they came from the other side of the door.

“Oh, fuck,” Brady stepped back.

“Someone is out there, too,” Jason said.

It stopped and went quiet for a moment, a split second later two large bangs rang out.

Brady jolted and jumped back, when he did, he crashed into the cart with the snacks on it, knocking their box of supplies to the floor.

Clink.

“What was that?” Jason raced to the lamp and turned it on.

The pounding at the window intensified.

“Oh my God,” Brady said in shock.

Jason walked over to him.

Brady instantly realized there was a method in the Sheriff’s madness.

Take your time. Don’t eat it all at once. Make it last.

The sheriff left it there for them, with hopes they wouldn’t have found it for a couple days. Perhaps, after things had died down. And with the way they were rationing, had Brady not toppled the supplies, they wouldn’t have found it.

But they did.

There with the overturned snack box and five remaining cakes … was a key.

TEN – Reflection

It was about three in the morning and Vivian couldn’t sleep. Maybe her body was used to the drugs Aaron had constantly fed her, or perhaps she just slept too much over the last few days. Whatever the reason, staying awake didn’t help make her feel better.

She paced about the room, sat down, stood up, picked up the phone to a silent line. No television, radio, not even a book.

The quiet and solitude was crushing because all she did was think of her family.

Vivian cried a lot, actually sobbed. At one point, she muffled her own screams into a pillow. There was no way, no how she was going to be able to live with the loss. Never was she a praying person, but she did that first night in the hotel.

She prayed that there truly was a heaven, somewhere, an afterlife, so she could take solace that her children were in another place waiting.

The hotel didn’t have a dining room like Aaron said. It was in another one of those mobile trailers set up at the side of the building. She saw Aaron there when she went to find something to eat. Not that she felt like eating, she just had to do something.

There was even a moment, a fleeting one where she thought about taking her own life, death would relieve her of the pain, then she realized she couldn’t. Not only did she not have the courage, she just couldn’t.

Vivian knew she still had a purpose on this earth. Whatever it was they needed, blood, tissue, for her to be a Guinea pig, she didn’t care. If her tragedy could stop one person from feeling what she felt, it was worth it.

Finally she had enough of the room, she decided to walk. After all, she was told she was free to do so.

She was well aware the island was just about empty and she recalled seeing the restaurant on her walk to the hotel. She decided to go there, find a drink. Maybe the alcohol would help her relax a little bit.

It was warm out and she could catch a breeze coming from the lake. The lake looked almost too dark.

As she passed the parking lot she saw it lit up. The mobile labs had lights on and she could see people moving in them, working diligently.

The Brewery Restaurant was across from the parking lot. There was a street light out front and a soft light came from inside.

More than likely, the light was left on by those who evacuated. She was well aware that the businesses were closed with evacuation, but like Aaron said, she could take what she needed, just keep track so the government could pay the bill.

He was wrong about the dining room, she hoped he wasn’t wrong about the resources on the island.

The door was open and Vivian stepped inside. It reminded her of the type of places she would visit at Virginia Beach. Bench like seats with a relaxed atmosphere.

A light was on behind the bar and a jar encased candle which burned on the bar. It wasn’t bright, but light enough for her to make her way across the restaurant.

She stepped behind the bar. It was void of everything but tap handles with names of brews she didn’t recognize.

“Swell,” she said. “Only beer. I hate beer.”

The sound of two footsteps caught her attention and she looked up.

“The uh, harder stuff is under the bar,” he said. “Cabinet to your right. I broke the lock.”

She couldn’t see him well; he was a shadow.

“Thank you,” she replied, following his instructions she found the cabinet. “Ah ha!” She bent down, opened it and found a bottle. Standing she set it on the bar and reached for a glass.

“Can you leave that out?”

“Sure,” she answered, pouring some in a glass.

“You must be number six,” he said, stepping into the light.

His appearance took her aback some. A man only slightly taller than average with average build, there was a strong presence about him, yet her eyes strayed to his left cheek. It was sewn together like a recreation of Frankenstein’s monster. Swollen some, the puffiness encompassing the sutures.

He reached for the bottle and caught her gaze at his face. “You think it looks bad now, you should see it in the light.” He poured some of the brown liquid in his glass. “Seems my niece thought my cheek looked pretty tasty.”

“I’m … I’m sorry.” Vivian shook her head. “I’m being rude.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I’m not alone.” He pointed to her bandaged arm. “Figured you’d have to be sporting some sort of war wound to be one of the Nostrum Six.”

“Ah, yes, the six of us with super immunities.” She took a sip and set down her glass. ‘Vivian.” She held out her hand.

“Gil Fuller.” He shook her hand. “Or number three as they call me.  I’ve been here two days. Got here right when they were evacuating. Welcome to the island. I take it you couldn’t sleep.”

“No, thought a drink would do me some good. It is. I’m going to head back. I’m not much company.”

“I understand.”

“Nice meeting you.” Vivian, carrying her glass walked from around the bar and headed toward the door.

“Vivian.”

Vivian stopped.

Gil lifted the bottle, walked it to her and extended it. “It doesn’t go away with one drink. But the bottle helps.”

She gripped the bottle.

“Trust me,” he said before releasing his hold. “I know.”

There was something about the way he said his words that told her that perhaps they had more in common than just being a biting board for a family member. Vivian supposed she’d find out his story eventually, but not on this night. She was too drained emotionally. She simply nodded her thanks, took the bottle and headed back to her room.

<><><><>

Quiet.

Still.

Brady and Jason had been best buddies since the first grade. They had been through good times and bad, and the one they now faced was definitely topping the list of bad.

They found the key.

It was a bright and shining moment that was short lived when they snapped back to reality and listened to the banging on the door and saw the people trying to get in through the window.

How could they even think of a plan with all the noise?

Brady grabbed a pillow, stood on the bed and brought it to the window ledge. When he did he got a good look at one of  the bloody faces that tried with diligence to gnaw her way in through the glass. What was wrong with her? Was she sick? She didn’t look right. After he stuffed that pillow into the window well, Jason handed him another, both pillows completely blocked out the window.

Within minutes, the clawing at the window stopped. After they drew quiet, staring at each other in the center of that room, the banging on the door also stopped.

If they weren’t seen, if they weren’t heard, they weren’t sought after.

“What the fuck?” Jason whispered.

“I feel like I’m in some horror movie.”

“I know. What are they?”

“Dude, you know what they are,” Brady said.

“No.”

“Yeah. Fucking gas leak. Insane lady kills her kids… uh, yeah.”

“It’s like the movie, ‘The Crazies’.”

“Exactly.”

“But didn’t they have some memory?” asked Jason.

“They did, but we can’t chance that.”

“You think… you think they’re dead?”

Brady shook his head. “I’m going to assume they’re not. The dead wouldn’t move that fast.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jason said. “We both watched the ‘Dawn of the Dead’ remake. They fucking ran.”

“It doesn’t make sense to run as a reanimated corpse. Anatomically it can’t happen. Think about it. Be reasonable.”

Jason cringed holding back from screaming. “Reasonable?” His voice squeaked. “How can we be reasonable right now, in this situation?”

“We have to keep it together,” Brady said. ‘It’s the only way we’re getting out of here. Because Dude, I am not dying in this room.”

“You’re right. The problem is we don’t even know what’s trying to get us.”

“Insane, infected mutilated people.” Brady said with disbelief.

“To say the least. But we don’t know.” Jason said with resignation.

“Let’s think about what we do know,” Brady said.

Jason nodded.

“Woman kills family,” Brady said. “Gas leak. Town shuts down.”

“We see them shoot someone trying to escape. Meaning it’s bad, really bad.”

“It’s contagious perhaps?” Brady asked.

“It’s either that, or the guy was dangerous,” Jason said. “So we’re arrested or detained. But ... the sheriff can’t tell us anything, we can’t make it out, he knows this so he gives us supplies.”

“To last for a few days, and don’t forget a key to escape.”

“Make it last,” Jason said, repeating the Sheriff’s words. “He knew.”

“Of course he knew.” Brady said. “And I bet he knew it would be over in a few days.”

“Hence, why he said to make it last. He wanted us to wait it out.”

Brady snapped his fingers. “See, we figured it out. This will all pass in a couple of days. So we wait.”

“I don’t want to wait a couple of days.”

“We can’t just leave, even with the key,” Brady said. “Don’t forget, those things are out there.”

“Dude, I don’t think they’re gonna be all that bad.” Jason said with trepidation.

“You don’t?” Brady asked with doubt.

“No,” Jason said. “I know this is real life and all, but we have faced harder challenges in video games.”

“Harder than this?” Brady asked doubtfully.

“Hell yeah, did we or did we not defeat, ‘Rise of the Dead’ in twenty-four hours?”

“We did,” Brady said. “That game had monsters. Plus, how many other games did we crush?”

“Too many to keep track. We’ll get out of here. We have the mental skills though mental training. We just have to Karate Kid all that knowledge and come up with a plan,” Jason said. “Then we get out.”

<><><><>

Gil Fuller stayed longer than he should have, but not as long as he wanted to. There was nothing to keep him there, so he went out walking. The brewery restaurant was a painful reminder of what would never be again. Local eateries packed with annoying tourists. A family spot to enjoy a burger. All those things Gil was certain would never be the same, nor would those days return. Even before he left for the island everyone was optimistic that this was a blip and the current crisis would end soon. Gil didn’t believe it, he knew what he saw.

He filled a pitcher with the dark, brew beer and he sipped as he walked around. No one really cared if he wandered, as long as he was around for testing. He could’ve grabbed a bottle like the woman in the bar with the bandage on her arm. He chose not to. She gave her name, but Gil didn’t remember it. It escaped him. He was just in shock to see one of the Nostrum leave their room. Gil wanted to talk to someone, needed to talk to someone that had been, or was in the same situation he is. He tried to get a feel about her, but she was quiet. What Gil really desired was someone that could relate to him. Someone that had experienced the same horror and heartbreak. A person that sat right next to him in the proverbial front row of the heartbreak ballet, they knew every move, every dance and every song of the agony orchestras ration. He so badly wanted someone that he could say to, “Is this how you feel?” Or “how badly do you want to put a fucking gun to your head to make the pain go away?”

However, she didn’t stay long enough for him to find out. She just up and left.

For all Gil knew she was just injured, and he was the only one there that had suffered devastating loses.

He sipped the beer from the side of the pitcher, but he had to be careful. The slightest stretch of his mouth put pressure on his cheek and caused him pain. Not so much physical pain, but emotional. Because every time his face hurt so did his heart and he’d think back to the day it all happened.

It was the first beautiful day after a week of rain, Gil had a Saturday off and was going to spend it with his wife and son. That was the plan. Flea Market, lunch, maybe stop at the park.

They were on the road to Milford, Indiana, which was a good hour drive for them, but it was home of the self-proclaimed, ‘World’s Largest Flea Market’.  Ben, his four year old son sat in his toddler seat behind him. His little blue, high top tennis shoes moved back and forth continuously as he kicked his feet, and picked cheerios out of a little plastic travel bowl. His wife, Jen chattered nonstop, from one subject to the next. Gil only heard about half of what she said. His attention was torn between her, their son, and whether or not to take the highway, or the back roads.

About twenty-five minutes into the trip his phone rang. It was his sister, Angie, who lived in Texas.

“How far are you from Jim?” she asked, referring to their brother. “Are you home?”

“No, I’m out. Why, what’s up?” Gil asked.

“He’s not answering. Mom hasn’t heard from him, I haven’t either.”

“Did you try the house phone, or Beth’s cell?”

“Yes, nothing. He didn’t go to work yesterday either Gil, we’re worried.”

“How do you know he didn’t go to work?”

“When Mom couldn’t get ahold of him she called his work.”

“Jesus.”

“Can you go over?”

“I’m on a road trip with Jenn and Tyler. I can backtrack it’s not that far out of the way.”

“No. Don’t do that. I’ll call the police,” Angie said. “I’ll do a welfare check.”

“Oh, stop, don’t be silly. I’ll go.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’ll call you back.” He hung up the phone.

“Where are we stopping?” Jenn asked.

“Jim’s. Seems he isn’t answering his phone, hasn’t for two days.”

“Not even Beth?”

Gil shook his head. “Angie wants to call the police, do a welfare check.”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

“No, it’s a horrible idea. One, he does this all the time. Two, he grows pot in the backyard.”

“Well, if he’s going to be that dumb and grow it where anyone can see …”

“Quit being judgmental,” Gil said. “We’re turning around and heading over there. It’s only a twenty-minute detour.”

“Fine, but if everything good is gone from the Flea Market, I’m blaming your brother.”

It didn’t take long to get to Jim’s neighborhood. People mowed the lawns, kids rode their bikes, it appeared normal.

Jim’s street was typically suburban. A thing that surprised Gil seeing how his brother liked to grow weed. Even though his house sat back just a tad more from the road than the other houses, his special garden was about as hidden as someone’s tomato plants.

The edge of the property out front was lined with hedges. The driveway went up to the house curving around to the front. Gil pulled up and parked the car behind his brother’s car, which was not far from the large front porch.

Gil put his car in park and shut off the engine.

“Are we all going in?” Jenn asked. “We might as well have Tyler use the bathroom.” She opened her door.

Gil stepped out, crossing in front of the car as Jenn opened the back door, and undid Tyler.

“Stay here,” Gil said. “Let me go check first.”

“The car’s right there.” Jenn leaned into the back seat.

“Stay, just let me …” Gil turned his sights on the house and paused.

“Gil?” Jenn asked as she withdrew from the car holding Tyler. She gasped in shock.

Brea, Gil’s seven year old niece, stood on the front porch. Wearing what looked like a blood soaked nightgown, the child appeared in a state of shock, head slightly down, eyes lifted, blankly staring out.

“Jesus,” Gil said. “Stay here. In fact, call the police.”

“Gil?”

“Call the police now,” Gil ordered as he walked toward the porch. “Brea, honey.” He approached her. “Honey are you okay?” He held out his hand.

Brea lifted her head and leapt toward him.

Believing she needed to be embraced, Gil took her in his arms. When he did, Brea snarled, and without hesitation she widened her mouth and plunged her teeth into his cheek. Her bite was hard and piercing, and her jaws locked onto his face.

He didn’t want to scream. He could feel his own blood running down his neck as he pulled and fought to get the child free from her grip. He turned left to right, trying to get her off of him.  Then the front screen porch door flew open, his brother Jim and sister in law Beth flew out.

For a brief second Gil was relieved thinking they were going to help.

However, they plowed right by him, sending his body into a spin.

A few seconds later, in the midst of his own struggle, he heard Jenn scream.

Her scream was all he needed to push him over the edge. He ripped Brea from him, in doing so he felt the flesh tear from his face.

Forcefully he shoved her away and turned. He couldn’t see his wife or child, only Jim and Beth as they moved about the car, their arms flailing.

He had only taken a step in their direction when Brea lunged for him again, grabbing onto his leg.

Again, her teeth sunk into him.

He kicked out his leg to shake her and when he did, Brea hit against the side of the steps and released him.

He looked over toward his car and charged that way with a gut wrenching, “No!”

Jim and Beth stopped what they were doing, lifted their heads as if they heard something, like stray dogs scared off by a call, and they ran off in another direction.

Blood.

All he saw on the ground by the side of the car was blood.

So much blood.

It was smeared all around the open back door.

“No!” Gil cried out, deep and hard when he saw Jenn’s mangled body on the ground. She wasn’t dead, not yet. Even with her neck torn apart, her stomach wide open, she was still alive. She twitched rhythmically in the last seconds of her life. Her eyes blinking as she gazed outward.

‘Ma’am are you there?’

Gil heard the voice coming from Jenn’s phone as he dropped to his knees and reached for his wife.

‘Ma’am, are you there? What is going on?’ the operator repeated.

Gil didn’t have the strength to grab her phone, because the second he scooped his wife into his grip he saw the bloody, blue, high-top tennis shoe.

He didn’t recall much in the next few moments. All Gil did was scream. He just kept screaming.

The memory was alive, real. Every time he thought about it, he felt those same emotions. It was as if he blacked out, because the reality around him vanished, and he was transported back to that day. Coming out of it, Gil flinched with the pain of that still, fresh memory.

Without realizing it he had walked a short distance and was on the rocky beach. He turned around and saw the slight brightness of the dark sky. It was the lights from the parking lot of the hotel.

He hadn’t walked far enough.

Frustrated, he guzzled the remaining beer and with a spin of his body, threw the empty pitcher out towards the lake before dropping to his knees, and emotionally folding.

ELEVEN – ROLLING

Had their detention room been more of a prison cell, or a room someone on suicide watch would have been kept, Brady and Jason would have had a harder job getting out.

They had the key and they knew they had to leave.

From the room and out of Wakeman. They’d worry about getting home after they cleared the perimeter of the town, hopefully not getting shot in the interim.

Although, getting shot was the least of their worries, considering what lurked just outside.

Once they managed to block the window, those outside dispersed. Brady and Jason were no longer seen or heard. It was as if those outside lacked common sense. That just because the blocking was there didn’t mean Brady and Jason were gone.

Whoever was on the other side of the interior door, stopped pounding, as well.

Brady and Jason implemented their plan.

Whatever was out there was dangerous, they could tell by the violent pursing at the door and, of course, by the way those on the other side of the window looked.

“They don’t just gnaw at a window unless they want to eat you,” Brady said.

On that theory they planned their escape.

The hung the blankets from the bed over the window and used the pillows they placed there under their tee shirts as some sort of chest armor. They ripped sheets to wrap around their forearms and shins, and they broke the small table to use the legs as weapons.

“Let’s plan this,” Jason said. “Our first huge hurdle is getting out this door because we don’t know what’s on the other side.”

“I say we blast out, ready and swinging.”

“But in this building we should move back to back. That way nothing sneaks up behind us.”

“Agreed.” Brady nodded. “And we know we’re in a basement.”

“Immediately look for an exit. There would have to be a stairwell.”

Brady shuddered. “Something always lurks in the stairs.”

“Ain’t that the truth? Just think of this as the ‘Dead World Game’. Level two.”

“Do like they did. Yeah, yeah, go out swinging like they did when they left the police station.”

“Lucky for us, we’re here. There has to be weapons up there,” Jason said.

“It’s a small town, dude, how much can there be?”

“There has to be something.” Jason lifted the key. “You ready?”

“As ready as I can.”

“No noise, just charge.”

Brady nodded.

Jason placed his ear to the door. “I don’t hear anything.”

“What if everything is fine and we come flying out?”

“Then we look like fools all covered like this, but somehow I doubt it.” Jason placed the key in the dead bolt lock. Slowly he turned it with a ‘click’.

He waited and listened again.

“Ready?” Jason whispered.

“Ready.”

Jason whipped open the door. He and Brady, blunt weapons held high, raged out into … the empty hall.

By the door, they paused.

Jason laid his hand on his chest catching his breath. “Oh, man.”

“I know.”

They stood in the center of a long hall.

“The exit is this way,” Brady pointed to the end he faced.

“There’s one this way, too.” Jason indicated to the other end.

“Which one?”

“We’ll go this way. Because we’re walking back to back, and I can’t walk backwards.”

“Neither can I.”

“I called it first.” Jason said.

“Fine.” Brady placed his back to Jason as they inched their way down the hall.

A couple of steps later, Jason stopped. “Shit.”

“What?”

“Sheriff.”

At the other end, near the destination exit door, the Sheriff emerged into the hall.

“Is he okay?” Brady asked.

“I think.” Jason squinted. Then he got a good look at the law official.

His shirt was saturated with blood, part of his right arm was missing and his face was dead white.

“Shit. He’s not.” Jason announced.

The sheriff moved quickly their way.

After a hard spin around, Jason grabbed hold of Brady’s arm and ran toward the other stairwell. “Run, run.”

Brady looked over his shoulder. “I thought he had a limp.”

“He doesn’t now.”

“Please,” Brady begged quickly as he ran. “Please. Please. Please, don’t let anything be in that stairwell.” He arrived first, yanked open the door and raced through.

Jason was right on his heels.

The door closed.

Brady didn’t hesitate, he headed up the steps.

“Wait.” Jason said. “Should we block this door or something?”

“How? How are we gonna do that? No, we’re good. Zombies can’t open doors.”

“What do you mean? Of course they can.”

“No, dude, every movie, they can’t open doors. Come on,” Brady urged.

Jason ran to catch up to him, as soon as he did, the door flew open. “Fuck. So much for that theory,”

“It’s a push bar door, it doesn’t count.”

“On the inside. From the hall you pull it,” Jason argued.

They made it to the next floor. Brady quickly peeked out the tiny window. Seeing it was clear, he pushed open the door and both he and Jason ran out. They emerged into another hall.

“Hold the door,” Brady instructed.

“Hold the door? Are you nuts?”

“Just use your body, I’m gonna find something to block it.” Brady headed across the hall to a room.

Jason pressed his back to the door, feet planted firmly with his head just below the window. He could hear the stomping of hard shoes against the steps. It echoed in the stairwell

“He’s coming,” Jason whispered to Brady.

Stomp. Stomp.

“Help hold this. He’s coming.”

Stomp. Stomp.

“He’s coming. He’s ….” Jason paused and gave an odd look.

“He’s what?” Brady asked, peeking out his head.

“He kept going. He’s still walking up.”

“Okay, good.” Brady held up his hand. “Another fact we learned. They aren’t smart.”

“Anything in that room?”

Brady shook his head. “Nothing. There was a small rifle case, but it was empty.”

“They probably only had like three cops in this town.”

“Probably.” Brady raised his wooden weapon and side by side with Jason they moved down the hall.

A few feet from the end, they paused.

A crunching sound carried to them, almost as if someone was eating a bowl of cereal.

“What is that?” Jason spoke so softly, Brady could barely hear him.

Moving only his lips, Brady replied. “I don’t know.”

Cautiously and slowly, they peeked around the bend.

A police officer sat in a chair, legs extended, back arched, head slumped. Hovering over him was one of those things, who slurped and devoured what he could of the officer’s torso.

Instantly Jason’s mouth opened in shock, he jumped back and started to gag.

Brady brought his hand to his own mouth as he darted back, “Oh my God, oh my God.” He whispered hysterically.

“Are we really seeing that?”

“Shit is real. Oh my God.” Regaining his composure, Brady peeked again. “Okay, the cop has a gun.”

“Okay.”

“We need that gun.”

“Uh, Brady, did you notice that thing…whatever it is eating the cop?”

“Yes. There’s only one though.”

“That’s all there needs to be.”

“Yeah, but there’s two of us.”

“And your point?” Jason asked.

“We can take him.”  Brady encouraged.

“So you assume.” Jason shook his head. “I say if anything, we run for it.”

“We can take him. Think of the game ...”

“No. No.” Jason shook his head. “Absolutely not. No games. No movies. They aren’t study guides. They open doors. Seriously, we could have been out of here already.”

“With only wooden table legs? We need that gun. We need to find a car. I’ll bet any money, not only does that cop have a gun, but he has keys to a squad car as well. He’s not smart. We’ve been standing here talking. He hasn’t come over.”

Jason exhaled in frustration and looked out into the main room. “He is pretty occupied.”

“Yes. Yes he is.”

“I say we sneak out there and bash him.”

“Bash him?”

Brady held up the wooden leg. “Hit him with all we got. Just keep hitting him.”

“In the head?”

“Of course.”

“Then what?” Jason asked.

“We look for keys, we look outside, hopefully find the car and get out.”

Jason leaned with his back against the wall. “This is insane.”

“I want out of this town, this is the only way to get back to our families.”

“You’re right. You’re right.”

“Ok, so, he’s busy. We get down, crawl in quietly, then coordinate our attack.”

“This isn’t a game.”

“I know this. But that is the only training we have. Ready.”

“I guess.”

“And you say we don’t have excitement.”

“Dude, this is not what I meant.”

Brady lowered to the floor and got on his hands and knees. He double checked that the feasting individual was engrossed as he quietly inched and crawled his way into the main room of the precinct.

Jason stayed close, his head near Brady’s shoes. They moved slowly, barely making any noise until they were close.

Brady mouthed the question, “Ready?” When he received acknowledgement from Jason, he held up his fingers, counted to three and both men jumped up, brandishing their table legs.

The moment they did, the infected saw them, turned and stood up from his meal.

Jason careened down first, hitting him in the side of the face. Brady followed with a pummel to the head.

The thing didn’t go down, he extended his arms, swinging and trying to grab them.

Repeatedly, and one right after the other, Brady and Jason bashed it, each taking a swing as it fought to get them. The blows landed in a steady, rhythmic way

Finally, it went down. They kept hitting until there was nothing left of his head.

Jason dropped his table leg. “Are you kidding me? We cannot fight them all like this. We aren’t strong enough. He didn’t want to die. Or … re-die.”

“I know,” Brady said out of breath. “I felt like I was in a bad remake of ‘Shaun of the Dead’.”

“You mean like that one bar scene, where they were all hitting the bar owner while Queen played in the background?”

“Yeah, that scene.”

“Wow, yeah, you’re right.”

“Check the cop’s pockets for keys and get the gun.”

“No.” Jason squealed. “You do it. It was your idea. I’m gonna check the phones.”

“Fine.” Brady stepped over the body of the infected and walked to the police officer. He unsnapped the pistol from the holster. “Got the gun.”

Jason walked to a nearby desk.

“Get his taser, too.”

“Yeah, we’ll just taser the zombies.” Jason lifted a phone on a nearby desk. “Nothing.” He slammed it down. “Dead.”

“No keys?” Brady asked.

“Check the drawers. I’ll check this one.”

“What if he walked to work?”

“Then we have to run out of town.” Jason opened the top drawer, searched, then searched the bottom drawer.

“Keys,” Brady announced and jingled them. “It has a beepy thing, too”

Jason turned and looked.

Brady held the key, dangling the remote. “It can’t be far.”

They both walked over to the main window near the door. The streets appeared vacant and quiet. One streetlight was on and it cast an almost yellow tint to everything.

“You know,” Jason said. “As soon as you press the blip blip, the ones by our window are gonna come running.”

“Do they run?” Brady asked.

“They have to. If an old sheriff with a limp can move quick, average people will run.”

“Then we wait until we’re outside.’ Brady handed him the taser.

“Wait. Why do I have to have the taser?”

“Because you wouldn’t check his body.”

“Fair.”

“Let’s go.” Brady reached for the double glass doors and paused. ‘Just know. You’re the friend I’m glad to have in this situation.”

“Just know … I’m you’re only friend, dude.”

“True.” Brady pushed open the door.

Even though they had been inside for days, the smell of the air wasn’t welcoming because it was far from fresh. The stench of rotten mixed with sewer filled the crisp night air.

Jason covered his mouth with a gasping, “Oh.” He eyed the automobiles in the small lot and on the street. ‘Please,” he thought. “Let the car be close.”

Brady aimed the remote of the keys outward and pressed ‘unlock’. The still night caused the chirp sound to magnify as it echoed out.

Jason shifted his view and pointed to the right. A couple of cars down.

They ran that way. It was a good thing it was close, because as soon as they got to the car, groups of infected raced their way. Some walked, some ran, and some barely moved.

Brady jumped in the driver’s seat. Jason took shotgun. Both of them closed their door and the engine was started before the first infected arrived to the car.

Engine started, Brady threw it in gear and hit the gas, clipping an infected as he pulled from the spot.

Neither of them were familiar with Wakeman, they had no idea how to get out of town, or which street to take. They knew they had to go west to get home, so they turned down streets, left and right, until the compass indictor on the rearview mirror showed a ‘W’.

Wakeman wasn’t big, not at all, and the streets probably weren’t as much of a maze as they seemed to Brady and Jason in their rush to get out.

Eventually they made it to Route Twenty, the road they needed to be on.

They passed the original roadblock, it was still there, but no one manned it.

Not even two miles out of town Brady pointed. “Look, my car. Thank God. We’ll grab that. Last thing we need is to get in trouble for stealing a car.”

Jason saw it in the darkness, parked off to the side of the road right where they left it. “A lot of good it’s gonna do you. They took your keys.”

“Yeah, but when I was sixteen my mom got me one of those ‘Hide-a-Key’ magnets. Goes under the wheel well.” Brady pulled over behind his car.

“You think it’s still there?”

“I’ve had four cars since then, kept it on every car. It’s never fallen off.” Brady checked around outside before opening his door.

Jason was hesitant, but followed when Brady stepped out. He walked directly to his car, crouched down and felt under the wheel well.

Holding up his hand, Brady stood. “Got it. Ready?”

Jason nodded, raced back to the car they borrowed, grabbed the taser gun and shut off the ignition. He left the keys there in case someone else needed it, then trotted to Brady’s car.

As soon as he got in, Brady stared the engine.

“Still works. Let’s go.” Brady said and pulled out onto the road. “Soon as we get to Townsend we’ll go in there and let them know about Wakeman.”

“They probably know.”

“If not, they will.” His arm extended in front of Jason as he pointed toward the window.

Jason turned his head to see several infected moving quickly in the grassy area next to the road.

“Look at that one, leading them.” Brady said.

Jason turned his head from the side window to the windshield. A man moved slowly on the edge of the road.

“Dude, does he have one of those walkers with wheels?’

“A rollator, yeah,” Jason said.

“A zombie with a walker?” Brady asked.

“Don’t hit him, he’s already at a disadvantage.” Jason watched him as they drove closely by. That was when Jason got a good look. “Shit. Stop the car.”

“Why?”

“He’s not one of them.”

“Are you sure?” Brady asked.

“Positive,” Jason spoke in a rushed voice. “Dude, it’s an old man with a walker and those things are closing in.”

With a jerk of the wheel and a squeal of the tires, Brady turned the car around and sped back the short distance. They stopped the car right next to the man.

Jason jumped out, taser in hand.

“Hurry,” Brady said. “They’re coming.”

The older man exhaled in relief when he saw Jason. “Am I glad to see you. I’ve been walking forever.”

“Sir, get in the car,” Jason opened up the back door.

“Thank you.” The man inched his rolling walker toward the car.

“Hurry.”

“Really?” he asked sarcastically. “Hurry?”

Jason felt a sense of urgency mixed with anxiousness. His eyes shifted from the man slowly getting into the car to the infected that picked up their pace.

The man put his left foot in, then his right, and then finally after a turn of his body, he plopped inside. He reached out for his walker.

“I got it,” Jason said and reached for it.

“It folds if you just push that …”

“I got it,’ Jason repeated. He fiddled with it, the taser dropped to the ground. Finally he figured it out. As soon as he folded up the seat, getting the unit compact enough to put in the car, he heard the warning.

“Jason, watch out,” Brady hollered.

Jason turned and saw the infected rush from the high grass on the side of the road. He thought about using the walker as a weapon, then remembered the taser. He bent down, lifted it and aimed. The tiny dot of light hit the infect and Jason pulled the trigger.

It only made a pop sound, like a plastic bag being popped. The two electric probes hit center mass on the creature, creating dancing lights  The infected jerked and fell back.

Hurriedly, Jason grabbed the folded walker, ran around the back of the car, tossed it into the back seat and jumped up front, just as five more infected emerged onto the road.

“Go. Go.”

Brady was already backing up before Jason finished giving the order to leave.

“That was close,” Brady said.

“I know.”

“I can’t believe you tasered him.” Brady said with excitement.

“How cool was that?” Jason looked back as Brady swung the car around to go in the other direction. The infected that he had hit was now standing.

Once they were free and clear, and on a steady path, Jason turned toward the back seat. “Sir, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m fine. You could have left the walker, you know. Kind of dumb to be messing with it with those things coming,” he said. “Thank you boys, again. I probably would have been a goner had you not shown up.”

“For sure,” Brady said, looking in the rearview mirror.

Jason nudged. “Hey, not cool.”

“It’s the truth,” the man said, as he stared out the window. “Then again, if they did get me, hour or so later, I’d be back. I wouldn’t need that walker. Saw Mary Lou Westerbrook sprinting across the front lawn. Had Parkinson’s, been in a wheelchair, not walking or talking for years. Yet, there she was chasing down, Perry the janitor at a pretty impressive speed for an eighty-five year old woman. All of them were running. I waited until I didn’t see any, then I left.” He shook his head. “Oh, gees, I’m sorry. I’m Bert. Bert Daniels.”

“Jason.” He reached back and shook Bert’s hand. “And this is Brady.”

“Are you from Wakeman?” Brady asked.

“You can say that,” Bert replied. “I lived at Country Meadows Assisted Living.”

“Can we take you somewhere, sir?” Jason asked.

“I really have nowhere to go. Guess you boys are stuck with me,” he said with a flash of a smile.

“Well, we’re going to the next town,” Jason explained. “Townsend. Try to get some help for Wakeman.”

“Good luck with that,” Bert said. “Not gonna be easy. That town, or the next.”

Brady peered at him through the mirror. “Why do you say that?”

“Haven’t you boys heard the news?”

Both Jason and Brady shook their heads.

“I have. I was watching it the whole time. There was nothing on there. Nothing. Then suddenly … Bam. It went from Wakeman being shut down to the whole goddamn state.”

“The whole state?” Jason asked shocked.

“The whole state. I think it’s everywhere. If not, this thing is so crazy it won’t be long,” Bert said, “before it will be.”

TWELVE – VITAL STATISTICS

It was like stereo, two different sounds flowed to Major Brian James, one from the Colonel’s office, the other from his laptop.

A tiny video square in the corner of his screen played the news, while the Colonel had the President on speaker phone, he was on a continuous rant reading her the riot act.

Brian knew Linda well, he had known her for years, and she probably wasn’t even paying attention. At this point in the game she didn’t care.

She wasn’t worried about how angry the, Commander-in-Chief was. What was he going to do, fire her? Demote her? She wasn’t focused on him, she was focused on winning. To her, she approached the current outbreak as a phase of war. One she would not lose.

Brian saw it differently.

The infection map widened by the day. They weren’t dealing with a germ, they were dealing with a microscopic parasite that had a surface life of twelve hours. Twelve hours to attach to anyone or anything, always planning its next victim.

They lost.

They lost the moment those eighteen soldiers returned from Niger, they just didn’t know it.

It was no longer time to plan the war, it was time to plan for the aftermath. How to set forth a good life for those who survived, those resistant to the parasite, and even those who could spend their entire life with the infection in a dormant state.

Plan on that and hope those working at four isolated locations with the Nostrum could figure out how to kill it, instead of focusing on killing those infected and not having a backup plan when that failed. Albeit alone and in secrecy, Brian worked on that plan. He wanted it ready for when someone finally asked, “What do we do now?”

It would get to that point.

Although there was a part of him that hoped the Colonel was right and her plan to kick the infection’s ass physically, instead of medically, would prevail.

Footage of Detroit was leaked intentionally, but no one really seemed disturbed by it, because it came across as urban rioting and civil unrest.  Yet when overhead images of Fairfield County, Ohio were released showing infected wandering fields, desolate streets and abandoned roadblocks, everyone took notice.

As his eyes shifted to the corner of his laptop screen to watch the news, he heard the President had stopped yelling.

The voices lowered to the point Brian couldn’t discern what they were saying. Then finally silence.

“Brian,” Linda’s voice came over the intercom. “Can you come in here please?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Brian responded, stood and walked to her office.  When he stepped inside, she was gathering items and placing them into a briefcase.

She spoke as she collected folders, “I’m in a rush and I need to brief you.”

“Ma’am?”

“We are sending supplies for the long term survival to the Nostrum locations, along with security. I need you to oversee that effort and make sure that reports are coming in hourly from each of them. Keep me up to date.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“I am leaving for Washington. I have a meeting with the Joint Chiefs to give them information and recommendations so they can make an educated decision about this.”

“Will Doctor Warren be joining you?” Brian asked. “Since he was the one that discovered it.”

“No. Just me. He’s busy at, Walter Reed.”

“So this is the meeting about waging war on those suffering from the illness?”

“Don’t sound so humanitarian, Major, it’s more than that and you know it,” she said. ‘Besides, what other choice is there? If our medical community fails, and it looks as if they will, we need a plan to defeat it. There is no other way.”

“I beg to differ,” Brian said. “We should also be planning for—”

“Duly noted,” she cut him off and closed her briefcase.

Brian clenched his jaw and held his tongue.

“You’re acting CO.”

Suddenly his expression shifted to a puzzled one. “What about the General?”

“He’s at Walter Reed.”

“Is he ill?” Brian asked.

“He has PV-1 along with forty others.”

“Jesus,” Brian gasped.

“The hospital is closed off and once I’m cleared in about fifteen minutes, I’ll give the order to seal the entire base.” She looked at her watch and swept her briefcase from the desk.

“With all due respect, if the base is officially contaminated, should you be leaving … Ma’am?”

“I have to. Should I? No, but I need to be there.” She walked toward the door. “Seal the base. Once that happens no one gets in, or out. Good luck, Major.” She opened the door and walked out.

Had he been holding his breath? He was certain that unconsciously he was because his entire body felt weak when he exhaled.

She handed him a few instructions, dropped a bombshell, wished him good luck and left.

Wishing him luck was laughable. She ran, found her out, Brian knew it.

PV-1 had resurfaced. She left him in charge of a base that sadly, in a few days’ time, would be nothing more than a dead base.

THIRTEEN – WAKE AND MOVE

The town Norwalk may have had only been twelve miles west of Wakeman, but it was in a different county. It had to be safe. It had to be.

Or so Brady and Jason thought.

They blamed the emptiness of the street, the dark businesses, on the early, predawn hour. Some homes had a light on, and that was a flicker of hope.

“What’s going on?” Brady asked. “Where is everyone?”

As they passed through town making their way to the highway connection, they saw signs posted everywhere.

Stay alive. Stay Inside.

Bert leaned forward from the back seat. “I told you, everything in Ohio just fell apart. Now, I’m not saying it’s everywhere, but enough that the state is sealed off.”

“You don’t think any of those crazy infected people are here, do you?” Jason asked Bert.

“No. No. Not yet. It took a good twenty-four hours for the assisted living to turn, another day for the rest of the town to start coming down with it.”

“How did it hit an assisted living so fast?” Brady asked.

“They quarantined us after Vivian was arrested. She worked at the facility. News said she murdered her family,” Bert said. “I think it was the husband that went raged. He was sick, with some sort of flu, it was real bad. I think he went mad killed the kids so she killed him.”

“Wow, so you knew her?” Brady asked.

“Yep, and her kids. They said she killed them, yet one of them was as spry as a spring day, they dashed across the field and jumped on a soldier.”

“Oh, fuck,” Jason gasped. “The dead are rising.”

“Some.” Bert said. “I didn’t see the soldiers get up. Then again, there wasn’t much left, and my eyes aren’t very good with distance. Why were you boys arrested?”

“Detained,” Brady corrected. “We saw them shoot someone and I guess they wanted to keep us quiet.”

Jason added, “That’s why we were in Wakeman. We saw it had been shut down and we went out there.”

“Well that was pretty stupid,” Bert said. “I’m old, my brain doesn’t always work the way it should, but I’d be goddamned if I would sightsee a shut down town.” He paused. “Just saying.”

Jason looked to Brady. “We have to get home. To our families.”

“What about him?” Brady pointed back.

“Oh, drop me off,” Bert replied. “Anywhere will do. I move pretty good with my rollator.”

“No!” Jason barked, offended Bert would suggest it. “No, you’ll stay with us.”

“And then what?” Bert asked. “Just gonna drag me with you?”

“I’m sure there’s somewhere you can go,” Brady said. “Until we’re safe, you stay with us.”

“Suit yourself.”

Almost at the edge of town, Brady suddenly slowed down. While they still saw no traffic on the road, there was an increase in foot traffic.

“Is that them?” Jason asked.

Brady leaned in to the steering wheel as if that helped him see better. “No, doesn’t look it.”

“There,” Bert said. “Up ahead. They’re all headed there.”

“A shelter maybe?” Brady guessed and slowed down as they passed the well lit volunteer Fire Department hall.

“No,” Jason said. “It’s some sort of medical set up.”

All eyes were upon the building as they drove by. People lined up, moving slowly. From the snippet of what they saw, inside looked like some sort of disaster relief center.

“You can leave me here,” Bert said. “I can help out.”

“Help?” Brady asked. “How?”

“I’m a doctor. Or was.  Guess by heart I still am.”

“How long ago did you retire?” Jason asked.

“Retire?” Bert laughed. “I lost my license shortly before my seventh-fifth birthday.”

“Well, in all fairness,” Brady said. “You should have been done being a doctor before that.”

“Why?”

“You were old.”

“You don’t say.” Bert grumbled. “Do me a favor, will you. Write a letter to your older self. Keep it in your wallet and don’t open it for fifty years. God willing you’re lucky enough to live that long. In the letter tell yourself to stop what you’re doing, you’re a useless old bastard.”

“Hey, now,” Brady defended. “That’s not what I was saying.”

“Yes, it was,” Jason said.

“Shut up.”

“Just because we’re old,” Bert said. “Doesn’t make us worthless.”

Jason turned in his seat. “Why did you lose your license?”

“Because I was old. That’s what the paperwork said.”

Brady tossed up his hand.

“I suppose I should have stopped a few years earlier,” Bert said. “I was a town doctor for over forty years. It’s pride you know. I started making little mistakes. Prescribing wrong medicines. I suppose it was Lefty Johnson who really did me in.”

“What happened with Lefty Johnson?” Jason asked.

“I amputated the wrong toe.”

Brady laughed, “What?”

“Well, not me, but I was responsible. Lefty was Wakeman’s top mail carrier, had been forever. He had diabetes and developed peripheral neuropathy in his toe. One got real bad and had to go. I was at the ER with him and wrote the order to amputate the left big toe. Unfortunately, it was the right that needed taken. I was confused.”

“Wait, how is that entirely your fault,” Jason questioned. “I mean, the surgeon should have known.”

“In his defense,” Bert said. “Both big toes were bad. Only one needed taken at that moment, but he ended up losing both. If you ever want to know how much the big toe controls balance, just ask Lefty Johnson. Bad enough he didn’t have big toes, but he kept on trying to deliver the mail. Problem was he kept on falling. Then one day he broke his hip and he was done with the mail.”

“Sad,” Jason said.

“Yep.” Bert nodded. “So if you want to turn around and take me back there, I’ll help out the medical people.”

Both Brady and Jason replied at the same time and the same way, “No.”

“No.” Brady repeated. “We’ll just take you with us for the time being.”

With another, “Suit yourself.” Bert sat back and relaxed.

Brady picked up the speed a little; they had cleared Norwalk without incident. He was hopeful his home town thirty miles away would be just fine.

<><><><>

Vivian was scheduled for a surgical procedure. Nothing life threatening and nothing medically necessary. It was, however, something Aaron thought would be important. They needed a tissue sample, a rather large one and they would retrieve it from her inner thigh.

She had no problem with it, what else was she going to do.

The dining trailer was hopping when she arrived, even having to wait a turn for coffee. There were a few people there that didn’t look like doctors or military. Vivian guessed them to be Nostrum, She didn’t speak to them, but she made eye contact as a manner of communication. Simple acknowledgement. Eventually she’d get to know them. They, like her, looked as if they had no purpose. Lost souls trapped in a body. Void of any expression.

Vivian debated on whether or not to take her bagel and coffee back to her room. She had less than an hour before she had to report to a medical unit, so she sat at one of the empty tables.

She sipped her coffee and picked at her bagel, she didn’t have much of an appetite.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked.

Vivian peered up, the gentleman from the night before stood there. “Sure,” she replied.

“Vivian, right?” He set down his coffee.

“Yes, and I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name,” Vivian spoke softly. Her words uttered almost in a daze.

“That’s okay. Gil.”

“Gil.”

“Not hungry?” he asked.

“Not really. Plus, I’m having a hunk of tissue taken from my leg today,” she said. “You?”

“Platelets,” he replied. “You got to do what you got to do, right? They have to beat this thing.”

“How are they testing it?” Vivian asked. “Do you know? Are they sending it across the bay, or are there infected on this island.”

“I would think the infected are here.”

“Oh my God.”

“I don’t know. It’s a guess,” Gil said.

“Do you know what anyone else is having done?” Vivian asked.

“No.” Gil shook his head. “No one is talking much. Everyone is really drowning in a pool of loss right now. It’s all too fresh.”

“How about you?”

“Me?” he asked. “I’m drowning in an ocean. But I can’t isolate myself, I can’t sit in my room and just think. I can’t. I’ll go crazy. I need to be around people, or rather people who are like me. Going through what I’m going through. They say misery loves company, I was hoping grief would be the same.”

“People grieve differently,” she said softly. “I think I can’t even register my grief right now. Some moments are is so painful I can’t breathe, other times, it’s surreal because it’s so soon.”

“I hear you. I do.”

Vivian took another sip of her coffee and looked down at her watch. “I have to go.”

Gil nodded.

She stood. “We’ll talk later.”

“I’d like that. Good luck.”

Vivian hadn’t seen it on him the night before, but she certainly did in the light of day. He was as lost as everyone else. The bite mark on his cheek would be easier to hide than the heartache written all over his face.

She’d make time to talk to him later. Even though it was probably impossible, perhaps together they could find some sense in their tragedy. Maybe he was right. It was better to grieve together than sit in a room alone wishing for death.

Carrying her coffee, Vivian left the dining trailer and headed toward Medical Unit Four. In the parking lot of the resort there were numerous units that occupied the area. Each spread equally apart. Some were square buildings, pre-fabbed and probably erected quickly. A couple were trailers like the dining one, and a few others were buildings that were more like tents.

The tent buildings were linked together with a plastic tunnel system, and she spotted workers in biohazard outfits walking between them.

They were the first ones she passed, and when she did she could hear the beeping of medical monitors with the occasional cough.

It surprised her. When she first arrived at the island she was led to believe it was indeed a research location, but primarily geared toward working with the Nostrum.

Common sense dictated there was no way to test any treatment, or find a cure without having actual ill to test it on.

How many workers, doctors, or ill were actually on the island? She couldn’t see inside the tents to know how many infected there were. She tried to peek as she walked by, turning her body back once more to look.

It was then, caught in her curiosity, that the ‘slam’ sound caused her to jump and spill her coffee.

Slowly, Vivian turned her body toward the direction of the noise.

She was close to an elongated trailer, one with a large window. Standing at that window was a later stage infected wearing a military uniform. His face pale with purple splotches. Blood laced around his eyes, nose and mouth. He stared at Vivian while he clawed continuously and adamantly at the window’s glass as if he could get to her.

“Can I help you?” a male voice asked.

Vivian was startled and jumped again. She looked to her right and to the young soldier wearing a mask. “I’m looking for Medical Unit Four?”

“Last row, last building on the right.”

“Thank you.” Vivian took a step and stopped. “Do you know him?” she asked, pointing to the infected in the window.

“Yeah, yeah, I do. He’s a friend”

“When did he get sick?”

“Three days ago. He thought it was a cold.” he replied.

“So did my husband. I’m sorry about your friend.” Vivian turned and walked away. Focusing forward, trying not to look at things around her, Vivian followed the directions and arrived at Medical Unit Four.

It was a ground level, square building with small windows near the roof, with a single metal door. A small intercom and buzzer was next to the entrance, after setting down her near empty mug of coffee she pressed it.

“Yes,” came Aaron’s voice.

“It’s Vivian.”

Following a buzz, the metal door slid open. Vivian walked through, the door closed behind her and she found herself in an enclosed four by four area facing another door.

Immediately, a mist sprayed down surrounding her for a few seconds, followed by a blast of warm air, before the door in front of her slid open and she saw Aaron.

“I should have warned you,” Aaron said. “I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s fine.”

The room was small and looked like a doctor’s office, a glass wall separated it from another room, that one just as tiny. From what Vivian could see it looked like a small lab.

“Thank you for coming. I have everything ready. This won’t take long,” Aaron said. “I promise.” He handed her a gown. “There’s a small changing room over there.”

“I wore shorts,” she said. “Do I need to change?”

“Um, no. That’s fine. That works.” He patted the exam table. “Hop up.”

Vivian did.

“How are your injuries?” he asked, as he turned and took a step toward a counter.

“Sore. Tight. I’ll be alright.”

Aaron prepared things on a tray as he spoke. “This will be a little sore tonight. I’m gonna use a local, once that wears off there will be some pain and discomfort. I’m guessing not nearly as bad as the bite marks.”

“Aaron, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“When I got here I didn’t think there were any infected, are there now?”

Aaron paused as he turned with the tray. “Things happen. We didn’t plan on it, but we kinda expected it.” He set the tray next to the examining table. “This thing moves fast. And they’re sick, very sick people. I know what you saw when we left Sandusky.”

“Also in a trailer a few rows back. He was like the ones in Sandusky. Like my husband.”

“Yes.” Aaron nodded. ‘But I don’t think I can help those people. They aren’t my focus right now, the ones that are sick, the ones burning with fever, they’re my focus. If I can help them, I can stop them from becoming fully symptomatic.”

“Can you?”

“We’re trying. We’re trying everything. We may not be able to help those sick right now, but maybe those who get sick tomorrow, or the next day. Time is our enemy. We need to beat it before it gets too far ahead. Every uninfected life is precious right now, we have to preserve that.”

“Then I’m happy to help.”

“Good. Thank you. Now….” He lifted a thin metal object. “This is what I am going to use after I give you the local.”

“It looks like an epi pen.”

“Oddly enough it works with the same premise. Only the end …” he showed her. “Isn’t a thin needle, it’s a prong. I press it to your skin, depress, when it retracts it pulls a tissue sample. It only takes a second. It actually takes longer to numb and bandage you.” He set it down and lifted a syringe. “Right now I’m going to numb the area. It will take a few minutes for me to set it up.”

Vivian nodded her understanding.

He lifted the syringe and when he did, he paused when the sound of crackling gunfire was heard.

A few shots here and there, nothing rapid.

“What’s going on?” Vivian asked.

“I don’t know. Excuse me.” Aaron set down the syringe and walked across the room, lifting a radio. “This is Finch. What’s the situation? I hear shots. Do we have a breach? Over.”

“Negative,” the other voice on the radio replied. “We have a stand off at the pier. Over.”

“I’m on my way. Out.” Aaron faced Vivian. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.” He hurriedly left without saying anything further.

Vivian waited a few minutes, then she too, walked out.

It wasn’t an easy or fast escape, she had to go through the same delay of mist and hot air when she left. She emerged from Medical Unit Four to relative calm. She expected to see people running about.

The gunfire had ceased and she could hear voices in the distance. One carried over a megaphone. The heavy echo made it hard for her to understand what the voice was saying.

No one seemed to notice as she walked back through the medical units, just like they barely noticed when she walked through before.

The voice on the radio said the pier, and she knew where it was. She wanted to see and find out what was happening.

She made it across the parking lot to The Brewery, a restaurant where she had gone the night before. Just like the night before, Gil was there. He was standing out front staring toward the water.

Down by the dock, soldiers held a stance as if ready for battle, armed and aiming outwards. Some belly down, others taking position behind objects.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Nearest I can tell.” He pointed. “That ferry showed up.”

A small ferry anchored a short distance from shore.

“That’s not the one that brought me, is it?”

Gil shook his head. “No, that guy took off with two Nostrum early this morning.”

“Are you kidding me?” she asked sharply. “I don’t want to be here any more than anyone else, but don’t we have a responsibility?’

“We do.”

“Who are they?” she asked of the ferry.

“Closest I can figure they are survivors trying to get to safety.”

“Are they shooting at us?”

Gil shook his head. “We are. They backed up and stopped. This is far enough away from the craziness, they have their sights on this island. I don’t think they’re going anywhere,” he said and looked at Vivian. “Do you?”

<><><><>

Linda was a mixture of confidence and nerves, after all, this was an emergency session of the Joint Chief of Staffs. She didn’t know how much they had been briefed, if at all.

She was a colonel, and speaking to them was highly unheard of. However, she had been in on the outbreak since the beginning, and she was by far the closest person to it, she had the most knowledge.

Leaving Fort Detrick wasn’t easy. She had to take an obscure exit so as not to be seen. By the time she arrived in Washington word about the order to shut down Fort Detrick had spread, and they gave her hell about entering the Pentagon.

It stressed her out so much her blood pressure was up and her head pounded.

Then when she walked into the meeting room she saw they all sat at the same end of a long table. She felt as if she were appearing before a Disciplinary Board.

The chairman, General Dunman stared hard at her. “Care to tell me why we’re being brought in for something that is the CDC’s domain, or at most FEMA? Is there reason to believe it’s a weapon?”

“No, sir,” Linda replied. “It is not a weapon. May I ask what you know or have been briefed on?”

“We are dealing with a level four virus that has spread to twelve states.”

Linda shook her head. “Spread is an understatement. It’s like wildfire. It can’t be touched, it spreads easier than any airborne virus we know. Being in the room with someone, walking in the same area, you’ll pick it up.”

“How is that possible?”

“Because it doesn’t dissipate. It lives on the surface, it will settle on your skin and make its way in. The ‘r nought’ ratio is undeterminable. This isn’t a virus, it acts like one, but it’s not. It’s a parasite. One impervious to any treatment we know, one that will not die by any medical knowledge we have. The only way to destroy it is exposure to high levels of heat or extreme cold. Temperatures humans cannot survive.”

Another general asked. “While I am not an expert in parasites, doesn’t it die when the host dies?”

“Inside, yes, but the larva and the adult parasite is microscopic and the host leaves larva on almost everything he or she touches.”

“How did we end up with this?” General Dunman asked.

“Because eighteen soldiers returning from Niger brought it back. We thought we cured them, we only made it dormant, and we sent them home. All across the United States.”

“Jesus,” General Dunman gasped. “What about in Niger? What’s the situation there?”

“The village where they were exposed is dead. Or … dead-ish.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Let me explain the hows of it before I explain that.” Linda said. “People hear parasite, they think worm, rather tapeworm, we’re not talking one parasite, however, we’re talking millions in the human body that take over the bloodstream. There are two types of this strain, PV-1 and PV-2.  With PV-1, the transmission is via larva into the blood stream. This is done by air, touch, or simple transference. PV-2 is the transfer of matured parasites into the blood stream. This is done by exchange of bodily fluids, a bite, or scratch. When infected with PV-1, the patient is asymptomatic until the larva matures. Sometimes it takes days, other times it can take a week. When finally symptomatic, they experience flu like symptoms that increase in severity until the infestation reaches the brain, at which time, the infected becomes mentally compromised and exhibits severe and violent behavior. When infected with PV-2 the mature parasite heads directly to the brain. The incubation period is an hour or two tops. Most PV-2 infections occur to those mortally wounded and the maturity takes place post mortem.”

“Wait. Wait.” General Dunman lifted his hand. “Are you saying PV-2 infected are … zombies?”

“For lack of a better word, yes,” she answered.

“Ridiculous.” He scoffed.

“Yeah, well, it’s true, sir. Those infected with PV-1, they are the ones filling up our hospitals. Those infected with PV-2 are filling up our streets. That’s why I am here.”

“What can be done? What can we do?” the general asked.

“We can continue working on a long term medical solution,” Linda said. “We have been invaded so we treat it as such. Issue national travel bans. Mandatory quarantines across the country. Stay inside, stay alive. The ones with PV-1 are not a concern until they hit the encephalic stage. We treat them like any flu victim and we humanely spare them the final outcome.”

“And those with PV-2?”

“They are our biggest concern. Right now we have a dozen states with infection that will grow. The infected will bleed through the areas. We take them out. We get boots on the ground and we go in and clear out cities. Put the word out to those that are healthy to stay inside. Recruit their help. It will be a tedious process, but if we don’t get ahead of it, it will get ahead of us. This isn’t one of those zombie movies where you wake up and everything is done. We have a fighting chance,  so we need to fight. I need you to advise the President of these actions.”

“And what of plan B?” the General asked. “Ohio, I hear is pretty bad. What happens if we can’t beat them and keep them in Ohio? What’s the plan?”

“Since we can’t call upon an instant ice age, any areas we cannot beat, we retreat, then …we burn the area down.”

“Why?”

“For the preservation of human life,” she said. “We use any means necessary.”

FOURTEEN – HOMEWARD BOUND

Stopping for gas wasn’t an option for Brady and Jason. The Wakeman police took their wallets and even if they did have cash, there wasn’t a service station open. They sputtered out their final drops of gas as they pulled in front of Brady’s  house.

Brady’s street was eerily quiet and still. In fact, the entire suburb was. No cars, no people. No movement at all.

“Looks like an evacuation took place,” Bert said.

“You think?” Brady asked. “I mean maybe there was an outbreak here.”

“No, we’d see one or two of the insane,” Bert said. “This neighborhood looks cleared out.”

Brady looked at his house. “My mom may not be in there?”

“She may not.”

Brady sighed.

“My car is still here,” Jason said. “I think I’m gonna head home. Check Corrie and the baby and hope for the best. Hopefully she left word if she is not there.”

“Since you don’t have a phone be sure to check your email or social media,” Brady said.

“Good idea.” Jason opened the car door and stepped out.

“Do you have your keys?” Brady asked.

Jason nodded. “Not on me. I have a set in the console. You know with everything the way it is we shouldn’t be separated.”

“I have enough gas to get three streets over to your house,” Brady told him. “Let me check my mom, get her if she’s there and I’ll meet you at your place.”

“Hopefully, Corrie will be there. I know that sheriff said she was detained, but you don’t know for sure.”

Brady opened the back door. “Are you coming, Bert?”

“Nah,” Bert replied. “Either way you’re coming back. I’ll wait here.”

“Sounds good.” Brady turned and faced Jason. “See you in a few. Good luck.”

“Yeah, you, too.” Jason quickly embraced Brady then headed to his car.

Once more, Brady looked in on Bert. “I’ll be right back.”

“Sounds good. Oh. Wait.”

Brady paused as he walked from the car. “Yeah?”

“Do you have any soup in your house? A can of one of those new fangled pull tab on the go things?” Bert asked.

“Soup?” Brady said confused.

“Yeah, I could really go for some soup. Hot or cold. Meat or not. I don’t care. Just some soup.”

“Soup. Okay, I’ll grab you a can.”

“Thank you,” Bert gave a thumbs up.

Brady turned and walked toward his house, dumbfounded that in the midst of everything, Bert wanted a can of soup. It was a strange request.

A part of him was afraid to go into the house. He reached for the door and hesitated. Several factors played into it. His mother, if she was home, was probably pissed because she hadn’t heard from him. Or worse racked with worry. Then again, he hoped his mother was okay. She was recovering from the knee surgery and infection.

He knew the second he stepped into the house, everything was not okay.

The house had darkness to it, the curtains partially closed. The television ran static and all the pizza boxes were on the table right where he had left them.

It wasn’t so much the smell of a normal house as it was a horrible, rotten smell that Brady had never experienced before. It burned his nostrils and permeated everything in the room.

He could only guess what the smell was, he knew it wasn’t something rotten in the kitchen.

His mother had been sick with an infection and without Brady to take care of her, she probably passed away. He felt crushed and guilty. Why did he leave? His poor mom. She was his only family member, and he hers.

He stood there, wondering if he should go check. Go look. He had been gone for days. Did he really want the last vision of his mother to be a rotting corpse?

Brady had to check to be sure. He had to.

Maybe, he thought, he’d wait and get Jason. He just didn’t have it in him to find her, not alone.

One thing was for sure, he was leaving his home for good. There were no emergency services to call, no police. If Brady was leaving for good, he wasn’t leaving without items. Pictures, clothes, maybe even some food.

Food.

Bert wanted soup.

They always had plenty of food, because they shopped and never cooked.

He could make a quick sweep. Brady’s home wasn’t large, a living room, big kitchen and two bedrooms on the second floor. The staircase was against the wall. Two steps led up to a landing, where the closet was, the rest of the steps led from it.

There was a small duffel bag in the landing closet, Brady knew it for sure, it would be what he would use.

He opened the closet door and found it with ease. He unzipped it, slung it over his shoulder and decided while he gathered courage to go upstairs, he’d get what he could from the first floor. Including Bert’s soup.

As he passed the sofa table on the way to the kitchen, he lifted the picture of him and his mother in Atlantic City. He removed it from the frame and placed it in his bag.

In the kitchen he grabbed the beef jerky, a box of Cheez Its and various other items. He needed to leave room for some clothes. At least some jeans and a shirt. He also needed something that would work as a weapon. As he emptied the box of Twinkies into the bag, his eyes shifted to the ceiling when he heard a creak.

At first he thought it was his imagination, then he heard it again. The creaking came from above.

The corner of his mouth raised in a smile and he was struck with not only a sense of relief, but embarrassment.

What was wrong with him? Why did he assume his mother was dead?

Hurriedly he raced to the stairs. Once he stepped on the landing he saw his mother walk by. She moved fast, then a second later, she walked by again, as if pacing in a frenzy. Back and forth, back and forth.

“Mom?” Brady called out.

The footsteps stopped. His mother backed up and stood at the top of the stairs, arms slightly outward at her side.

Brady’s eyes widened when he saw her. Hair matted, her face pasty white with purple discoloration on her neck and cheeks. Her eyes were dark.

“Mom?” Brady whimpered.

His mother hissed and with that jumped, in a lunge, down the stairs from the top.

Brady dove out of the way, but there was no need. In her leap, her head smacked off the slanted ceiling and as her body bounced off,  she slammed down to the landing and rolled against the closet door.

She didn’t move.

Breathing heavily, Brady backed up. He didn’t need to get close to see what she had become.

He was too frightened, too scared at that moment to be overwhelmed with sadness. He took running steps toward the front door, stopped, spun and ran back into the kitchen, he thought of that weapon he needed. He pulled out the first drawer and grabbed the rolling pin. A step or two out of the kitchen he saw his mother was still not moving so he backtracked, he went into the kitchen again and grabbed the meat mallet.

On the third trip out his mother was laying still, he realized he forgot the soup and ran back in for that.

Can in hand, he raced out and that was when his mother moved. As he passed her, she jumped up reaching for him.

He couldn’t bring himself to hit her, he shoved her out of his way and flew out the door.

She followed furiously.

Brady made it to the car, threw the bag in as he jumped into the driver’s seat, just as his mother slammed her hands against the window.

“Holy crap,” Bert said from the back seat. “That your mother?”

“Yeah.” Brady looked at her as he started the car. She clawed and bit at the window and he stared with pity for a moment.

“We should go,” Bert said.

Brady nodded and tossed him the can. “Here’s your soup.” After putting the car in gear, he peeled out. The whole drive down the street he kept looking in the rearview mirror at his mother as she chased them.

<><><><>

Even though Jason knew the authorities had come for his wife and daughter, a part of him held on to the hope that they had returned. Especially when he saw his wife’s mini van parked right out front. The house was completely empty, they weren’t there. Baby bottles were missing, as well as that large pack of diapers Jason had just purchased.

The question remained, were they still in custody or had they left, evacuated like Bert suggested? He needed to find out where they were. The internet was down so there was no way to check social media. He looked everywhere in the house for some sort of clue, or note. He didn’t have his phone so he didn’t know if she had tried to call him.

When he thought of that, he realized he didn’t need his phone to see if she left a message.

It was an oddity but they had a landline, and Jason lifted it. There was a dial tone and he called his cell. Instantly, it went to voicemail and Jason pressed the pound sign to get to voicemail controls.

Sure enough there was a message.

“Hey, it’s me,” Corrie whispered. “We’re okay. Some men in suits came and got us. We’re at the Marriot. Gotta go. Love you.”

That was four days earlier.

While their little outskirts town was deserted, the Marriot was in Sandusky. That was a bigger place and Jason was not only certain they had to be all right, but also the bigger town of Sandusky was probably the safer place to go.

He searched out Corrie’s keys. Not that he needed her mini van, but he knew she had plenty of gas. Fuel was part of the deal she had made with Jason. If he wanted to go and hang out with his friend, especially after working all day, he had to go get milk, grab some chicken wings and fill up the tank before he left for Brady’s.

Jason had done all that.

She hadn’t taken the van. In it was plenty enough gas to get to Sandusky and even further. He didn’t know if he would get back to the house any time soon, if at all. He debated on taking items, but decided against it. Doing so meant he believed he was never going home.

He had the keys and he opened the door.

Brady was parked out front. Just parked there, hands on steering wheel, staring forward. Bert was in the back seat.

Jason walked up to the car and opened the door. Brady didn’t move.

“Hey,” Jason called him. “Brady.”

“My mother is infected,” he said stunned.

“Aw, man. Dude, I’m sorry. I really am.”

Slowly Brady looked at him. ‘Corrie? The baby?”

“Not here. They were moved to the Marriott.”

“Then I guess that’s where we go. I don’t have any gas.”

“The van has a full tank.”

“Then we go.”

“We go.” Brady opened the back door for Bert. “Brady, will you be okay?”

“Eventually. It was my mom. My mom.” Brady moaned.

“I know.” Jason said with sympathy.

“Hopefully, we’ll have better luck finding Corrie,” Brady said.

“Let’s hope.”

Brady lifted his bag and Jason helped Bert from the car with his rollator. A black cloud of sadness hung over them, Jason figured it was one that wouldn’t go away any time soon.

FIFTEEN – WATCH AND WAIT

Two outdoor chairs were side by side, just outside The Brewery restaurant facing the bay, a good hundred feet from the docks were half a dozen soldiers perched on the pier in ready position. Another was just off the docks in a military Humvee manning a 50 cal weapon.

How did they even get it on the island? Vivian wondered.

She sat in one of the chairs and accepted the drink handed to her by Gil.

“Thank you.”

“Anything since I was gone?” he asked.

“Nothing. No communication at all between them that I could hear.”

“I see the ferry hasn’t moved.” He pointed out then sat down.

“Not an inch back, or forward.”

“How’s the leg?” he asked.

“Fine. Sore. Just another man made hole in my body,” she said. “Joining the one on my shin and arm. How did platelet donation go?”

“It went.” He sighed out, sounding tired. “Can’t believe that ferry is just sitting there. It has a lot of people on it. About twenty or thirty that I can see. There may be more inside.”

At first Vivian thought he had exceptional eyesight until she saw he was looking through a pair of binoculars. “Where did you get those?”

“I asked.” He handed them to her. “What do you think?”

She lifted the binoculars to her eye level and adjusted them. They weren’t marauders on that ferry, they weren’t bad people looking to start a fight, they were families, with children, staring at the island as if they were watching their salvation slip away.

“I don’t understand,” she said, handing them back. “Why can’t they just come ashore?’

“Because we need a constant,” Aaron’s voice spoke.

Vivian looked over her shoulder to him confused.

“You two give new meaning to people watching,” Aaron said. “Those people are exposed. Possibly even infected. Right now, we have control. Control over every person. We know who is infected, who is symptomatic. If they come ashore, that’s less control. Besides more mouths to feed.”

“How do you know they don’t have food?” Vivian asked. “You have a lake full of fish.”

Aaron nodded. “Yes, there is a lake full of fish. But a lake full of fish infected with the parasite.”

“Do you know this for a fact?” she asked.

He gave her a look that pretty much screamed, ‘Really’?

Gil handed him the binoculars. “Take a look at who you’re refusing. Kids are there. I say let them on shore. You need people to test your treatment on if they’re exposed.”

“We do. We have soldiers,” Aaron said. “They get it first anyhow.”

Vivian glanced outward. “You don’t strike me as someone who would turn people away.”

“Please stop looking at it like that. I can’t,” Aaron said. “I can’t let them on the island. This, right now, is a government project. I’m doing my job, which is to find a cure. Besides, I am not the one making the final decision. Colonel Sharpe is in charge, right now, she sees this virus as a war, which it is. We all need to look at this island as if it’s Fort McHenry in 1812.” He held his hand outward. “Out there is the enemy and we’re holding down the fort. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

After he walked away, Gil refreshed his drink. “He forgot one important part of that analogy. What happens when there are no more soldiers left to hold the fort?”

“True. And the virus, the parasite, it may be the enemy, but those people out there on that ferry, they aren’t.”

“No,” Gil sipped his drink as he watched the ferry. “No they are not.”

<><><><>

Linda felt good about the meeting and the pending outcome. The Department of Defense would activate an extraordinary fifty thousand troops, and deploy them across fifteen states as border patrols and boots on the ground to fight the infected.

All they needed was the President’s approval and that was pretty much a given.

It didn’t feel so dismal to her now, the future wasn’t dim. There was a shot at making it work, at saving everyone. While she could have stayed in Washington to watch it play out, she decided to head back to Fort Detrick.

Traffic was unsettling, tense and heavy for late morning. There was just something about it that worried her. She had barely made it off the beltway in two hours. Her gas gauge began to dip and her head hurt. She chalked it up to the mounting stress she experienced.

Twenty minutes off the beltway, Linda pulled over to get a cup of tea. She wasn’t feeling well, she needed the beverage as well as some ibuprofen.

It was a major rest stop, a gas and food hub off the interstate, and it was especially busy when she pulled in. Maybe it was just her imagination, but people moved about rushed and anxious, not leisurely, and the vehicles seemed a bit more packed with supplies than usual.

She didn’t need fuel so she parked in the lot on the food service side. The moment she stepped from the car an aching pain shot up her right leg. Almost like a cramp that made it hard for her to stand and move. When she did manage to stand erect she felt light headed, and her body swayed.

Holding on to the car she regained her balance and slowly made her way to the entrance.

Something was different, but Linda couldn’t put her finger on it. Typically when she wore her uniform, people nodded and held doors for her, now no one even remotely made eye contact.

Things were strange.

There was a long line of people at the fast food roast beef place so Linda opted to go to the small gift shop counter. There was only two people waiting there and she saw the sign on the deli case that read ‘tomato soup’.

Perfect.

A hot beverage and soup would hit the spot.

She grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen and water, then walked to the counter to get her coffee,

The moment she got in line the tickle in her throat began. She coughed once, a small one, then another.

The woman in front of her turned around and looked horribly offended. So much so she moved up, crowding the person in front of her.

Linda got it, there was a virus going around. She understood.

Not wanting people to think she was a walking, talking germ bank, she tried to stifle her cough, but it only made it worse and she was finally unable to hold it. The cough was hacking.

The woman in front covered her mouth and left the line walking outward from Linda.

Linda moved up.

The café worker who was adjusting the coffee maker turned around. “Can I …” She paused. “Help you.”

Her eyes widened and she moved back from the counter.

“I’ll have a small …” Linda paused to cough. “Coffee and cup of that soup.” She coughed again.

The young female worker hurriedly grabbed a coffee, placed a lid on and set it on the counter, then retrieved the soup.

“Spoons are over there.” She pointed.

“How much?” Linda asked.

“Go. It’s free.”

“Thank you.” Linda lifted the items, when she did, she looked at the worker again. The young girl actually looked fearful.

When she turned around, she saw the man in line behind her, he stood several feet back and waited until Linda cleared the counter then, hand covering his mouth, stepped forward.

Linda stood dumbfounded by his behavior. Shaking her head she turned and nearly stumbled over a child who came to her hips. She grazed into him, lifting her hot items to prevent spilling them. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see …”

“Don’t touch him!” screamed a frantic woman. “Get away from him!”

Before Linda could comprehend what was happening, the child was pulled back and into the arms of a woman. She shielded the boy and dragged him away, covering his mouth.

That’s when it hit Linda.

Everyone was looking, covering their faces, running. Some even shouted, ‘someone call the police’.

She felt like the elephant man, a spectacle, a monster in their eyes, but why?

The ladies room wasn’t far and she made her way there, pushing the door open with her backside.

The second she emerged in there, a female occupant making her way out screamed.

Hurriedly, she raced to the mirror, setting her soup and coffee on the purse ledge.

Her heart sunk to her stomach when she saw her reflection.

What had happened since she last looked in the mirror?

The skin on her face was ghostly white, under her eyes were dark and purple marks, her neck was swollen, eyes bloodshot, lips cracked and her nostrils were red.

She gripped the edge of the sink, lowered her head and shouted. “Everyone get out. Get out. I’m infected.”

She heard the scuffling, the panicked movements and vocalization, but she didn’t look up.

How could she be so stupid?

She was on top of the virus, so far on top and in control of the situation that it never dawned on her that she would get infected, somehow subconsciously, she believed herself to be infallible.

Linda wasn’t.

She faced that reality in the mirror.

Once she was encompassed by the silence of the empty rest room, she ran to the door and locked it. There she stayed, head against the firm surface and broke down.

<><><><>

Fort Wayne wasn’t just near the border of Ohio and Indiana, it was on the border of what was now being called the, ‘No Zone’. Tasha Elliot paced the living room of her second floor apartment while waiting for her husband to get home. Her attention went between the television and her phone where she read the comments to her post on social media of, ‘OMG, I’m in Fort Wayne. Is this thing for real?’

Not only did the outbreak news seem to come out of the blue, but to find out they were so close to a complete shut down and war zone area was incomprehensible to her.

‘If you read the news days ago, you would have known,’ one commenter said. ‘It’s been real.’

‘They never said how bad this was,’  said another. ‘If they had maybe things wouldn’t be out of control.’

‘If you’re in the zone, you’re done. Heard they’re bombing it to contain the virus.’

‘Get out of the zone!’

Tasha walked over to the window and looked out. She could see the parking lot, there was no sign of Nelson, her husband.

She called him. She was working at the grocery store when people jammed in, buying everything on the shelves all at once. The way they all came crashing in at the same time made her believe there was some sort of attack, or a meteor was hurling to earth.

“Hurry up,” people told her.

Tasha was pretty quick on the register. She did the best she could.

Mr. Carson was in her store nearly every day. He usually bought one or two items, but when he came through her check out with a cart overflowing, Tasha had to ask.

“What’s happening? What’s going on?”

“Didn’t you hear?” Mr. Carson replied. “Indiana is one of fourteen states that are going to be shut down. Right now only the northern border is under quarantine. A virus or something.”

“The dead are rising,” the person behind Mr. Carson chimed in.

“What?” Tasha laughed.

“Yeah, they are,” he said. “Look.” He handed her his phone. A video played. Tasha didn’t get to see it, because he whipped it away when people verbally protested the hold up.

“It’s not here,” Mr. Carson said. “But it’s all up by the lake. People are fleeing, but they’re not letting anyone out of that area. It’s contagious. I don’t know about dead rising, but this thing causes insanity. Get out while you can. Head for Kentucky. Go south. East is out. West too.  Pennsylvania, Ohio, New York, straight to the coast and I think west to Minnesota, down. Massive military movement is shutting down the borders. No one gets in, or out. Goes into effect at six.”

Six.

That was only four hours away and she was on shift until eight.

She finished Mr. Carson’s order and the man behind him. While she worked, Tasha never stopped thinking about the situation. She knew nothing other than what people said.

Finally, she couldn’t take it, she sent a text to her husband for him to get home and she took off her smock, set it on the belt and walked out the door.

Tasha wasn’t one of those people who only had two days’ worth of food. She was addicted to buying groceries and had too much. Working in a store gave her the vantage of seeing all sorts of new items and she constantly was shopping after her shifts.

When she got home, she packed it. A gym bag and back pack full of food, lighter items that they could carry. In between packing she kept calling Melvin. He didn’t answer so she bombarded him with texts to get home.

Her head spun. Was she over reacting? Then as if she needed public validation, she posted that statement and question on social media. Asking if it was real.

The comments confirmed her fear.

Tasha actually contemplated sealing off her apartment, but she didn’t have the plastic or enough duct tape to do it.

In the second back pack she shoved a change of clothes for them both. They’d carry their jackets. A rolled up blanket was secured to the back of her bag. Impressively she had it together and now she just waited on her husband. They had three hours until the state was shut down, and just about that length of time to drive to safety.

But they had to go and without delay.

Finally, Melvin arrived home.

He didn’t look like someone who would be named Melvin. He had a full head of dark hair, his face was chiseled and physique toned and strong.

“Have you heard?” Tasha asked rushed, the second he stepped in.

“Yeah, yeah, I did. Scary shit.”

“They’re shutting down the entire state,” she said. “We need to leave before we get stuck here with the infection.”

“Where do you suppose we go?” he asked.

“South,” Tasha replied. “That’s the only way to go. I’ve been listening to the news since I found out.”

“Okay,” Melvin nodded. “We’ll leave. We need to pack ...”

“Done,” Tasha said and pointed to the bags. “My car has a three quarter tank of gas.”

“Mine has half. Want me to syphon, put it in cans and take yours?”

“Do we have time?” Tasha asked.

“We make time.”

Tasha nodded, looked at her watch. “You do that, I’ll make one more pass of the apartment.”

When she received his agreement, she headed to the back bedroom. They were on the same page with minimal talking. They were a team and worked as one. On the dresser was a photograph of his parents, and she grabbed it glancing out the window. The parking lot was suddenly busy. Neighbors were doing the same, tossing things in their cars, preparing to leave. Rushing about. Everyone had the same idea …leave.

No other plan, just go.

With no destination in mind other than south, Tasha and Melvin would leave town, they’d get out before lock down, and that was what was most important, they’d figure it out once they got across the border.

<><><><>

The short car ride was filled with back and forth emotional checks between Brady and Jason.

“Are you okay?” Jason asked.

“Not really, I’ll be fine though. You?”.”

“Same.”

A few moments later, another version of the same exchange took place and it was that way the entire distance to the hotel.

Brady wasn’t okay. It really would be a while before he was. He couldn’t even process what had happened to his mother. He would eventually. Face it, deal with it. But at that moment, Jason’s family was priority.

The lives and welfare of his wife and child.

The parking lot of the Marriott was void of cars, yet litter was strewn across the surface. Open suitcases and clothes scattered about. It was desolate, on the positive side, they saw no infected or bodies. Brady pulled the car up to the main doors, none of the windows were broken, but it was hard to see inside with the tinted glass.

“What now?” Jason asked.

“We go in,” Brady said. “We look for Corrie and the baby.”

“You think they’re still here?”

Brady shook his head. “I don’t know. Looks like everyone up and took off. But we have to look, right? See if we can find them.” He looked back to Bert. “Do you want to stay in the car?”

“No. Do you?” Bert retorted.

“We’ll find a place to keep him safe,” Jason said.

“I can handle myself,” Bert replied.

“Really, dude?” Brady said sarcastically. “You think?”

“Yes, I do.”

Brady shook his head again then reached down to the floor of the passenger seat. “Meat Mallet, or rolling pin.”

“We have the gun,” Jason said.

“Not enough ammo,” Brady responded. “Plus, we don’t know if infected are around. Guns make noise. Noise will draw attention.”

“You have a point. Rolling pin.”

Brady handed Jason the rolling pin and armed with the mallet, he stepped from the car first aiming in the direction of the front doors.

He didn’t wait for Jason or for Bert to get out, open his walker and roll his way there. Brady went to the doors. He wanted to make sure it was clear. The hotel was dark and those things could lurk anywhere.

The revolving door was jammed, and the electricity was down, causing the sliding doors to remain closed. Using his fingers he pried the door open some and slipped through. Brady didn’t worry that something would be lurking, it felt too still. His first thoughts were that an evacuation had taken place. That the hotel was empty. If that was the case, then Jason would have a hard time locating his family, but that meant they were alive and that was the most important thing.

The lobby was large and open. Brady didn’t see or hear a soul. He also didn’t smell anything foul.

Within a few minutes, Jason entered with Bert.

“Clear?” Jason asked.

“Here, at least,” Brady replied.

“How are we going to find them?” Jason asked.

“They always make you sign a paper, right? There’s got to be a file where they keep them all.”

“There is,” Bert said. “Always behind the desk. They file them. If she was still here when everyone left, then the register paperwork would be here. Problem is, would it be under her name?”

“We can check,” Brady went behind the desk.

The three of them opened drawers, checking everything, trying to determine the filing order.

“Here.” Jason shouted.

Brady looked over his shoulder, Jason held a sheet of paper. “Did you find them?”

“Yeah, I did. They are on the fourth floor.”

“Let’s go.”

Jason looked at Bert.

“Yep, you got me there,” Bert said. “I’m not making it up those stairs. I’ll wait here.”

“No, you can’t,” Brady said. “There’s a small office.” He opened the door behind the front desk. “Wait in here, in case those things come.”

“Lock myself in that room?” Bert asked.

Brady nodded.

Bert shrugged. “Okay.” He inched his way to the room. “If you don’t come back, no worries, I have my soup.”

“We’ll be back,” Brady said. “Just don’t leave. Alright?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good. We’ll be back.” Brady reached for the door.

“Hey,” Bert called out before the door closed. “Good luck.”

Brady nodded and closed the door.

After walking from behind the front desk, they quietly sought out a stairwell. There was one near the banquet hall section of the first floor.

While the hotel seemed quiet, it wasn’t. Noises carried to them. Shuffling, banging. They knew they weren’t the only ones there in the hotel. They just didn’t see anyone else and were left to wonder, who or what was in the hotel with them?

“They’re up there, right?” Jason asked, standing before the stairs.

“Yes, they’re up there.”

After a nod of agreement, Jason opened the door.

The stairwell was empty. They climbed the eight flights of stairs to the fourth floor, saying nothing, keeping quiet.

Outside the door to the fourth floor, they paused to catch their breath. Jason pressed his head close to the door to listen, then with his kitchen utensil weapon he pushed open the door. Immediately, after stepping onto the fourth floor, they retreated back into the stairs.

They had to come up with a plan.

A way to get to the room.

A problem stood in their way, or rather several of them.

The hotel was quiet, but without a doubt, it wasn’t void of beings. In fact, it was worse, the entire fourth floor hallway was crawling with infected.

<><><><>

It had only been moments, but Linda swore she felt worse. Perhaps it was because she saw her reflection, the reality of her future and the fact that her life was going to end on the cold bathroom floor.

What was her legacy? A lifelong soldier, no family to love or miss her. Adored by countrymen who would be too consumed with everything to even care if she lived or died. Did it even matter? Her infection told her she was probably misguided in thinking she could stop it. She had to get it together. Knowing the time frame of the illness, she had a good day before she was too sick to do anything, but while she still had her strength, she was going to fight.

With trembling hands, she grabbed her phone.

There was only one person that she could call. With blurry eyes, she sought out the number in her phone and pressed call.

The moment he answered she felt relieved. ‘Brian,” she spoke his name.

“Colonel? Is everything alright?” Brian asked “Are you on your way back?”

“I’m not coming back and everything isn’t alright. I’m … I’m … Brian, I have it.”

“Have what?”

“The infection.”

Silence

“How?” he asked. “You were fine.”

“I know. The best I can figure is I caught it early, before we knew anything. When I was going back and forth to the hospital.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m so sure, I have locked myself in the ladies room.”

“Why? Get out of there. Get help.”

Linda laughed. “You and I both know there is no help to get. I can’t come home.”

“You can’t stay in a restroom, either.”

“I won’t. It shouldn’t be long before word gets out that an infected is in the bathroom. They’ll shut down the rest stop and I’ll be able to leave. I don’t know where I’ll go, but I’ll leave.”

“You’ll keep me posted, right?”

Linda nodded, cleared her throat of emotions and said, “Yes,” she paused. “We got approval.”

“Yes, I know. Orders came through to move troops.”

“Good. How are you feeling, Brian?” she asked.

“I’m fine. I’m in the office.”

“Stay there. Stay safe. I need you to work on something for me.”

“What is it?”

“A secondary plan.”

“I don’t understand,” Brian said. “You already laid out a detailed plan for the war.”

“I did. That was, as you said, for the war. To kill the infected. Stop the spread. That’s already done. I have a plan to fight this, and win, but I need you to work on a plan on what to do if the war is unwinnable. I need you to come up with a way for the human race to survive,” she said.

“I already am.”

The conversation was brief after that. Linda disconnected the call with the promise she’d check in again.

She would try her best.

However, for the moment, until the rest area was cleared and she could leave, Linda needed to rest. She was tired and sick. Every inch of her body ached.

Sitting on the floor of the rest room, making sure no one would come in, she sat against the door, rested her head back and closed her eyes. She hoped getting some shuteye would give her enough strength to push on, or at the very least get out of the bathroom.

SIXTEEN – RIPPLES

“What happens when there are no more soldiers left to hold the fort?” Gil had said to Vivian not one hour earlier.

Now, still in their lounge chairs, they watched as every single soldier was air lifted off the island by way of a Chinook. Gone.

Sound travelled and before the large chopper arrived they could hear the arguments entail about the abandonment. Actually, they couldn’t make out the words being said, they didn’t know what it was about until the team of soldiers withdrew from the pier.

Gil asked one, “You letting them ashore?”

“Not our problem now,” the soldier said. “We’re being deployed.”

“Deployed?” Gil asked. “As in war? Boots on the ground?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Where are you being deployed to?”

“Our unit?” the soldier replied. “Cleveland.”

The second they pulled back there was an entirely different feel to everything. It was immediate, like the end of a movie.

Vivian continued to watch the ferry that rested on the lake about half a mile from shore.

There wasn’t much conversation between her and Gil, they just sat there, staring out, bottles from the bar between their chairs.

She turned from her ferry watching when she heard footsteps, Aaron approached.

“Do you need one of us to test?” she asked.

“No.” He shook his head. “I need one of those bottles.”

“Take your pick,” Vivian said.

Aaron reached down with a ‘thanks’.

Gil asked. “Was it every soldier that left?”

“Yep. Everyone and … every gun. Okay, just about every gun. We still have a hand gun here and there. Maybe if we scour the island we may find a few. The soldiers were vital. We needed them here to keep the island safe.”

“It has to be pretty bad inland if they pulled them,” Vivian said.

“Twenty-five percent of the states are infected,” Aaron replied. “They’re sending soldiers in to defeat the infected. Every single one is needed on the streets, or in the camps. Thousands are sick and those thousands will become those things that are taking over.”

Gil lifted his glass. “You know, if I were in Sandusky or any of the areas around the lake … one of the lake islands would be the first place I would head.”

Aaron nodded. “Me, too.”

“My guess is a handful of immune, a few doctors and a couple dozen sick are on this island. We’re shit out of luck if someone, or a group tries to come here. We can’t defend it.”

“I know,” Aaron said. “But what can we do?”

“Replace the soldiers. Bodies are a defense.”

“How do we do that?” Aaron asked. “Where do we get the replacement soldiers?”

Gil didn’t say anything, he only pointed. He pointed to the ferry out in the bay. “Let them come ashore.”

<><><><>

Had they made the wrong decision? Tasha was all about leaving, getting out of the zone, heading south, she failed to see the reality of it. It was a mass exodus. Her and Melvin weren’t the only ones leaving.

Highways were not built to handle every single car and when nearly every car in the area jammed the highways at the same time, everything stopped.

Tasha and her husband Melvin made it eight miles out of the city when their pace slowed down to a crawl, another three miles and it was a parking lot, every lane, even the shoulder of the road was nothing but cars. The continuous sound of beeping horns finally ceased and people shut down their engines.

Tasha and Melvin did the same. Within hours the highway went from a parking lot to a campsite. People roamed  around, talking to others. What else was there to do?

Not Melvin.

The rear hatch of their SUV was lifted. Melvin sat in the back under the hatch door.

Tasha walked about staying close to their vehicle, trying to hear what others said, listening to the radio message that was nothing but a repeat.

People bartered and traded, cooked on tiny grills as if they were there for the duration.

Tasha wanted to keep her supplies hidden. She didn’t want others to know what they had. After circling around she returned to her SUV and to Melvin.

“Think we should leave?” she asked.

“And go where?”

Tasha shrugged. “Back home.”

He shook his head. “Is back home any better?”

“I don’t know. We wanted out. We’re out. Now I’m wondering if we should have stayed home.”

“Hindsight is a wonderful and cursed thing.”

“True.” Folding her arms, she leaned on the vehicle next to him. “You think the highways will ever clear?”

“Nope.”

“Then why are we staying here?”

“Nowhere else to go,” Melvin said. “We wait. We have what we need. Time will tell us where and when to go. I believe that.”

“I’m sorry I made us leave.”

“That’s fine. It’s either waiting out here or at home.”

“Home would have been safer.”

Melvin winked, “I’ll give you that.”

“So what now?”

“Now, we can just sit here, talk, watch our belongings, see what …” Melvin quickly turned his head.

“What? What is it?” Tasha asked, but before he could answer she heard it. A scream, it was followed by another, they came from behind them in traffic.

Melvin slid from the back end of the SUV and stood. He looked outwards searching for an answer to what they heard.

“See anything?”

“No.” He jolted when gunfire rang out and the singular screams and cries turned into a chorus.

“What do we do?”

Just as he was about to answer several people ran by, squeezing their way between the cars.

“Mel?”

Melvin took her arm and opened the back door. “Get in.”

“People are running.”

“I see that.” He inched her inside.

“Why are they running?”

Once Tasha was inside, Melvin saw why they ran. It was still in the distance, and he had only seen them on the television, but he was certain the infected had descended on the highway.

He could see them attacking, or at least it looked like it. He knew for certain when a woman covered in blood bumped into him, then after stumbling, kept on running.

Hurriedly, Melvin inched both front seats up.

“Get on the floor,” he instructed. “Now!”

Tasha did as instructed.

Melvin grabbed a blanket from the back end, climbed inside and wedged himself between the front seat and back, then hit the locks on the door. He was face to face with his wife. Tasha was on the floor behind the passenger seat, him on the driver’s side, he brought the blanket over them.

They didn’t move. They didn’t make a sound.

Unable to see what was going on around them and outside the vehicle, they could only rely on what they heard. Mixed with cries of anguish, outside sounded no less than like a damned world. How long it would continue, or how long until it was safe remained to be seen, but one thing was for sure, they weren’t going anywhere. Not anytime soon.

<><><><>

The west stairwell exit was four doors from room 422, yet Brady and Jason couldn’t get near it. The infected swarmed the floor as if protecting something. Brady came up with a plan, the best way for Jason to get to the room was for Brady to distract the infected so they cleared out of the way. The next obstacle would be for Jason to get into the room. The electricity was down so it made sense that the card key system was as well.

Hopefully, Jason would knock once on the door and get his answer.

However first, Brady had to implement his plan. He left Jason at the west wing stairwell. The fourth floor wasn’t the only floor with infected, although the other floors weren’t as bad, and Brady couldn’t figure out where they all came from. Were they guests? Did they just wander in? If that was the case, why here?

The eighth floor was clear.

No infected in sight and the doors to most of the rooms were ajar. Brady made his way from the west wing stairwell to the east, and then down the stairs as quietly as possible to the fourth floor.

Carefully, he opened the door and peeked out. He quietly propped open the door. He would call them, get them to follow, lead them up to the eighth floor and then Brady would cross down the hall to the stairs, shut the door and head back down to the fourth floor.

That was the plan.

A short whistle was the start, then Brady called out,  “Hey, come and get me.”

They all looked at him, and just as he wanted they came for him.

He had to time it just right. Wait until the first in the pack were on his heels. Once he saw they were in pursuit, Brady raced back into the stairwell and up the steps.

Clear.

As if Brady was the only meal in town, they followed him. The wave of infected swept down the hall clearing the area in front of room 422.

Quickly and silently, Jason hurried to the room. He prepared to knock, but as soon as he raised his hand, he saw the door wasn’t latched and he slowly pushed it open.

It stopped only four inches into opening when it hit against something, causing what sounded like a rattling of dishes. He moved it with slightly more force and saw that a room service cart had blocked the way.

The second he squeezed through the smell hit him. Sour and rotten, and Jason’s heart sunk. He knew what that smell was.

The curtains were probably opened because the small entrance way into the room was lit with natural lighting.

Flies swarmed around the leftover food, a bit of steak, French fries and a salad. Jason lifted the knife from the cart, pushed it out of the way and walked in.

He moved slowly, cautiously, a few steps into the room he saw a man’s leg. He wore dark slacks, a shiny black shoe rested a few inches from the foot that sported a black sock.

The room was a suite, and he walked into what looked like a living room. As suspected, the curtains were open, and he looked down to the man on the floor.

There was nothing left of his back, it had been torn apart, clothing was shredded and every bit of flesh was removed from his exposed spine. The back of his head was missing and a portion of his brain spilled out.

The man’s right hand was an inch from a pistol, and Jason bent down for it. After he lifted it he heard the slurping sound.

He checked the safety and saw the chamber was engaged, with his hand trembling he followed the sound.

His feet squished on the blood soaked carpet. In Jason’s mind he prepared for the worst. The suited man clearly was killed by an infected. There was a possibility the infected was his wife.

Center of the living room in its own puddle of blood was a man’s arm. He quickly looked back to the other body, he had both arms. It belonged to someone else.

Across the living room he saw the open door to the bedroom, and another male’s body. That one lay by the door, that body was missing an arm.

A few more steps he could see the pack and play basinet next to a bed.

Gun raised, Jason prepared himself for anything, or so he thought. The slurping sound grew louder as he closed in on the bedroom suite. Hand extended, he pushed open the door.

Any courage or strength he had went out the window.

He saw two things when he stepped into the bedroom.

The first registered right away, the other was delayed.

Immediately, across the room was a woman in a housekeeping uniform. She gnawed on a portion of a woman’s arm, he could see the nail polish. The housekeeper was gray and splotched with purple marks. A portion of her face was torn off, and as she lifted her head to look at Jason she pulled away flesh, it dangled from her mouth as she snarled.

He didn’t have time to react or register it, immediately after seeing that he saw the bassinet.

The white elephant blanket was covered in dried blood and it bunched up on a blood soaked bassinet pad.

There was nothing recognizable in the crib except the torn and shredded blue sleeper that rested amidst a slushy pile of remains.

The gun toppled from Jason’s hand.

Brady was positive he had them trapped on the eighth floor. He pulled the stairwell door closed and jammed it and had almost made it to the fourth floor when he heard Jason’s ungodly scream.

It wasn’t one of physical pain, it was gut wrenching and agonizing. Brady knew what that meant. He raced the rest of the way down, and as soon as he emerged into the fourth floor hall he saw Jason sitting on the floor outside of room 422.

His back was against the wall, his knees bent up and he held something bloody in his hands as he kept crying out.

“Jason, shh. Please. Quiet.” It wasn’t the most compassionate thing Brady could say, but he also knew when he lured the infected through the east stairwell he didn’t secure the door.

“My baby.” Jason looked at Brady.

That was it. That was what he held in his hands.

Brady instantly got sick and closed his eyes tightly, he moved towards Jason. He needed to get his friend out of there and comfort him. “Dude, we have to go. Please, I’m so sorry.” He reached down for him. When he did, out from the room lunged an infected in a housekeeping outfit. She dove on Jason, sinking her teeth into his shoulder.

Jason cried out only once.

Brady dove forward, but the housekeeper was relentless in her attack. He pulled at her and she wielded her arms at him, snapping her jaw. Brady kicked and punched her, but she wouldn’t let go, and Jason didn’t fight. He pulled at Jason, finally freeing him as Brady delivered another shove and kick to the housekeeper, sending her back.

He took ahold of his bleeding friend, helping him to his feet and moving him back down the hall.

Suddenly Jason freaked out. He pulled from Brady and went back towards the room.

“My baby, I dropped him.” He dropped to the floor by the door, grabbing a cloth that lay there.

“Jason.” Brady moved to him and that was when the infected charged from the stairwell at the other end of the hall.

Before he could do anything, the infected housekeeper was on top of him, and the first of the charging horde lunged as well.

In seconds, Jason was encompassed. Like football players piling on a fumbled ball they kept building a mound, each trying to get a piece.

There was nothing Brady could to help Jason.

Nothing.

Heartbroken and scared, he whispered, “I’m sorry.” then spun on his heels and fled for the other stairwell.

SEVENTEEN – FINISHING

Aaron stood on the pier watching each and every person step from the ferry. He had to. The doctor and scientist in him visually examined each person as they passed by him.

He and another doctor repeated instructions for them to head to the resort and wait. There they’d be checked out and given a place to stay.

There were close to fifty people that stepped off that ferry.

Men, women, and children.

They carried belongings, draped with blankets for warmth. They all made eye contact as they walked by.

Some looked sick, some didn’t. They all had one thing in common, though. They all appeared embattled.

Worn out, emotionally and physically. The scars of what they witnessed as visible as any bite or scratch.

He stayed there until the very last person disembarked.

Then he asked Gil, because he had mechanical experience, to go onboard and figure out a way to disable the ferry, then look to see what supplies they had.

There was food on the island and some left over from the residents. Not enough, Aaron guessed, to sustain them for the long term.

“You made the right choice,” Vivian told him.

“What other choice did I have?”

“You could have left them out there.”

“Yeah, I could have. Putting us at risk.”

“Despite what Gil said, and maybe what you believe, these people weren’t a threat. They needed safety, we’re it.”

“But for how long?” Aaron asked. “The more people on this island, the more chance there is that an outbreak will occur. You may be immune to the parasite, but you aren’t immune to bleeding to death, or starving.”

“We’ll figure out a way.”

“We will?” He shook his head. “There aren’t many doctors here, all of us are primarily research doctors. We don’t have time to care for the sick, the injured. We can’t just say, ‘welcome ashore’ and let them be. They’ll do what they can to survive, and whether or not you believe it, there are limited resources here. We are a temporary sanctuary, not a long term salvation.”

“Did you look at them?”

“I did.”

“No,” Vivian said. “Look at them. If their faces are any indication of what is out there, then we very well may be the only chance there is for long term salvation.”

“How is that supposed to happen?” Aaron asked. “We no longer have a controlled environment. At any given second this island could become what they escaped.”

“We can’t think that way. We have to think like it stops here. Plan for the long term.”

“Planning for the long term happens by taking a look at the short term,” Aaron said. “We don’t have time to figure out who sleeps where and how much food we have. We have to focus on beating this thing.”

“Then I’ll do it.  I’ll figure it out. What we have, what we need to do. I’ll do it.”

Aaron just looked at her. “Why?”

“What else do I have to do? Be tested, sit at The Brewery drinking and thinking how much I miss my family and want to die? No, I’ll do this.”

Aaron nodded. “Fine, I’ll hold you to that. We’re going to check them out first, while we do that, you figure out where we put them.”

“Deal.”

Another nod and Aaron turned and walked off.

It wasn’t that he lacked compassion, Aaron was very compassionate. More people, more mouths to feed, and an increased chance of an outbreak just hindered his focus on his responsibility.  They would stay on his mind even with Vivian taking control over refugees.

They were one ferry, yes, but how many more would show up?

Would they let them ashore or make them turn around?

Aaron’s mind was full and he needed to clear it and get back to work. He would help the other doctors examine those who came from the ferry and then Aaron would retreat to his lab.

That was vital.

He had one job, and one job only, to beat the infection that was ravaging their world. If it was the last thing he ever did, Aaron was determined to accomplish that.

<><><><>

Linda slept a lot. Her head bobbing forward, dozing off into a deep sleep. Each time that she jolted awake, she expected that hours had passed. However, they hadn’t. It was mere minutes. Her suffering was great. Each second the pain seem to linger on and intensify. Her head pounded, her skin burned to the touch, she couldn’t stop shivering, when she wasn’t coughing and hacking, she fought not to vomit. Aware that she had it, she worried about that moment, that single moment when she turned into one of those vile things they were fighting. Linda didn’t want to get to that point. Her fingers pressed against the cold linoleum trying to relieve her aching joints. She was lying there among her own regurgitation. Wanting to cry, wanting to scream out, and feeling sorry for herself. A strong woman she knew was somewhere in her, she could do better than to crumble and succumb to it. She felt pitiful, laying there as if she didn’t have the courage to stand up to it. Again, the more she thought of it, the more she realized this was not who she was.

Her entire adult life was dedicated to the service of her country. Her entire career in the military was being courageous and strong. Yet there she was in the ladies room of a rest area hiding. If Linda didn’t do something soon, she would die. Or at the very least turn into one of those things and no one would remember her for who or what she was. Her legacy would be that of a woman who withered from the fight. It had been awhile, at least in her mind, since she heard any noise outside of the ladies room door. The rest area had been cleared. Linda had to seize the moment to leave. Her car was just outside. She could make it to her car and try to go to the other end of the parking lot and just sit there, or use that pistol under her seat. Either way. Linda was not going to become one of those things.

Gathering every ounce of strength within her, Linda stood and made her way to the sink. She took one look at her reflection. She looked sad and tired. Turning on the water she began to wash her face in her hands, she knew what she had to do. After washing, she moved forward, her balance was off and she swayed making her way to the door. She pulled it open and stepped outside. As she believed, the entire rest area was empty. Reaching, she sought things to hold onto as she made her way to the main door. The doors seemed like a mile away when they were only twenty feet. She staggered her way there, nearly toppling several times before getting her balance.  As she grew closer to the double glass doors she could see the reflection of the red and blue lights. Someone did call authorities. They shut the place down. Just before grabbing the doors, Linda took a deep breath and stood up straight,. She was going to walk out of there, head held high. She pushed open the doors ready for anything, even the blast of a gun. What Linda didn’t expect was to walk out the door and immediately be approached by two health workers in hazmat suits. She could hear the click of the respirators and their strength as they took hold of her with firm gentleness. Linda didn’t notice anyone else around, she was too focused on her relief to be out of the restroom. She went with the two medical workers, allowing them to lead her to the back of the van.

“We have you,” the one said.

“It’s alright Colonel,” the other added.

“What do you think?” the first man asked again.

“Not yet a three. Almost at three.”

“Then we know what to do.”

She listened to the back-and-forth conversation between the two health workers. She knew what being a phase three meant, she knew what the course of action was to be taken, because she designed the plan herself.

She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew her fate, she accepted that. She was a soldier for her country and she was a soldier in the current war. She faced a battle. Like many battles there were casualties, and Linda knew it wouldn’t be long before she was one of them.

<><><><>

The infected were so focused on consuming Jason, they never noticed Brady or pursued him. He fled the fourth floor and made it half ways down the staircase to the lobby when he had to stop.

He sat on the steps unable to continue as he broke down. Cub scouts, boy scouts, little dribblers, trick or treating and back yard sleepovers crashed through his mind.

He and Jason had been a duo for as far back as he could remember. Now that tie was severed.

Brady physically felt that.

He couldn’t take too much time, once safe for the evening, he’d take the time he needed to mourn his friend and deal with the grief he knew would stack on with the crushing blow he experienced with his mother.

How was he going to do this? All the video games and movies were like study guides, but none of them dealt with the emotions. How was one supposed to walk away when someone they loved was infected, or killed?

It wasn’t easy.

It was debilitating.

Handicapped by his own broken heart, Brady made his way down to the lobby and his adrenaline kicked in.

He checked the halls before racing out, and ran to the front desk, to the office where he had Bert waiting.

“Bert, we have to go,” he said as he flung open the door.

Bert cocked back, grabbed his chest. “Holy cow, you scared the bajeezes out of me.”

“We have to go, we have to go now. Now.”

“Where’s Jason?”

Brady whimpered slightly and shook his head.

“Oh, son,” Bert stood up. “I’m sorry.”

“We need to leave, Bert. Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He grabbed his rollator.

“The car’s right out front. Those things are here in the hotel.”

“Then we go.”

Hand on Bert’s back, he guided him around the front desk and stopped cold.

Infected surrounded the car.

“Shit.” He inched Bert backward.

“Where are we going?” Bert asked.

“The hall. There was an exit by the stairs.”

“We still need to get to the car.” Bert inched along with his rollator.

“I’ll get you to that door. I can pull closer to it than to the main entrance. You wait. I’ll go back and lead them away, return and get the car.”

“They’ll go away. They will. At least they did when I was at the home,” Bert said. “They only linger until there is nothing left to look for.”

“Then why are they still here?” Brady asked.

They turned the bend that led passed the ballrooms and to another hall where the exit door was in sight. Just as they moved toward it, from the stairwell, raced infected.

Brady grabbed Bert and spun him around, then nearly pulled him over.

A few feet down that particular hall was a metal door with an employee only sign.

Brady pulled on it. Then as if it were jammed he kicked, banged and pulled some more. “Shit it’s locked.”

“Back to the lobby?” Bert asked.

“Yeah.” Again, Brady pulled on him to move him faster.

“Son, I’m going as fast as I can.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

They didn’t make it far. More infected came around the bend.

“Run,” Bert told him. “Go. Just run. Leave me here.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Then they’ll get you. At least if I’m here you have a chance to escape.”

Brady’s mind flashed to Jason. How he inadvertently was a decoy and even if it meant his own life, Brady wasn’t going to do that again. On purpose or not, Bert was not going to be a decoy. He wasn’t going to carry another death in his heart that saved his life.

“Run, goddamn it,” Bert ordered.

A click and squeal of metal, preceded the voice that shouted out. “Here. Hurry.”

Brady turned.

A middle aged black man wearing a blood stained dress shirt, held open the employee only door. “Hurry.”

Brady backed up with Bert just as the infected neared. He threw his hand around Bert’s waist and all but lifted him backwards into the hallway, rollator and all.

The man slammed the door closed seconds before infected pummeled it.

He reached up and shifted the bolt to secure it. Breathing heavily, he stepped back. “Sorry it took so long. Someone heard you out there, we had to make sure you weren’t them.”

“Thank you,” Brady said.

“Sure thing,” he looked at Bert. “Are you okay, Sir?”

“I’m fine. Just need to slow my heart and catch my breath,” Bert said. “We can’t thank you enough.”

“Glad we heard you,” he said. “We’re pretty buried in the belly of this hotel.”

“There’s more people here?” Brady asked.

“Yes. We’re trapped. Those things are everywhere. This way.” He led them down the hall. “I’ll get you some water, you can find a spot to settle.”

“Were you a guest here?” Brady asked.

“No, I was a food and beverage manager. I was acting general manager for a couple days when it fell apart. The hotel did a flip from being fine, to being overrun about two days ago. Chad.” He introduced himself.

“Brady, and this is Bert.” Brady replied.

“Nice to meet you both. We’re all in here. It’s safe. We have access to the kitchen, supplies, food, and laundry. We’re good. Until help arrives.”

“I don’t think it will,” Brady said.

“Then we’ll figure something out.” He opened the doors.

The room was huge, a ballroom probably used for conferences or small weddings. People lined up against the walls, laid on tables, blankets on the floors. There were too many to count.

“I must warn you, some are sick, some are injured,” Chad said. “We’re doing the best we can. Me, the catering manager and a couple of other employees. We’re preparing for the worst, but none of us are doctors.”

“You’re in luck,” Brady said, then nodded at Bert.

“You, Sir?” Chad asked.

Bert nodded. “I’m retired, but a doctor.”

“Can you help? If you don’t want to …”

“Nope. Set me up. I’ll see what I can do.”

“You got it. I’ll be back.” Chad gave a soft pat to Bert’s back and shuffled away.

“At least I won’t feel useless,” Bert said.

“Yeah,” Brady looked around at the faces and froze. In the corner, seated on the floor, shoulder to the wall for support was Corrie. “Oh my God. I’ll be back. That’s Jason’s wife.”

“My eyes may not be the best, but she looks sick, or injured. So go easy on telling her too much.”

Brady nodded, told Bert he’d be back and made his way to Corrie.

“Hey,” he said softly, kneeling before her.

Her skin was pale, her breathing was rapid, blood saturated her shirt from the gaping wound in her neck.

She opened her glossy eyes. “Brady.” She smiled weakly. “Brady.”

Brady dropped to the floor and sat next to her, no sooner had he done that, with a relieved sigh, Corrie rested against him and fell back to sleep.

He stayed there not moving, holding his best friend’s wife. Wondering if she knew about the baby, if she was there, what hell she had been through.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, his mind drifting as he held back tears.

“Hey,” Bert said as he stood above Brady. “Did I wake you?”

“No, I was just thinking.”

“I can’t get down there with you. Would you mind sitting in that chair so I can treat you.” Bert pointed.

“Sure.” Brady gently moved Corrie from his shoulder and allowed her to lay down as he stood. The chair was a few feet away and Brady sat down.

“Give me your hand,” Bert said. “Rest it right here on the bar.”

Brady raised his hand and placed it on the rollator.

“Eh, not too bad.” On the seat of his rolling walker were medical supplies and bandages. “It doesn’t need stiches. Just cleaned and bandaged.”

Brady looked down to his hand. A human bite mark was between the thumb and forefinger. It had bled badly for a while and stopped. He had forgotten about it. It happened when he was trying to pull the housekeeper from Jason.

He winced when Bert cleaned and probed it. “It’s not deep. At least a chunk isn’t missing, right?”

Brady nodded.

“Yeah, we’ll get this cleaned up. You’ll be just fine.”

Brady didn’t say anything. He heard Bert’s words, then looked at his wound. He hoped that Bert was right, but Brady knew better. He was bit by an infected, there was no way, short of a miracle, that he would be fine.

<><><><>

Even though it happened in an office and over the phone, Brian James was given what the military called a field promotion.

In the wake of the absence of commanding officer, Colonel Sharpe, and absence of the top command at Fort Detrick, Brian became a Colonel, fully in charge of the quarantined base.

Not only that, he was therefore drafted into the executive position for warfare strategy against the parasite.

Upon receiving his command, his first order was to find Colonel Sharpe.

She was located in a rest area fifty-three miles outside of Washington, D.C.

Safe, sound, but ill and being processed as a level three, he was told.

He was just happy his friend and coworker was found.

Walter Reed was closed down, as was the base. They didn’t have groups of infected roaming the streets, it was quiet. The only movement was that of soldiers, wearing protective gear as they patrolled the streets.

Using Linda’s analogy of Fort McHenry, Brian vowed to keep the base safe and alive even though he knew from the doctors that the parasitic infection was everywhere on base, and the hospital was looking like a ward from the days of the Spanish Flu.

Brian had to stay alive and healthy.

He retreated to the underground shelter and communications center. The soldiers down there worked and lived down there on shifts. He was certain those already below weren’t exposed.

With plenty of supplies, he sealed off that room and went to work.

Linda’s plan was in effect.

No Go Zones were initiated and states sealed off.

Troops moved in to clean sweep areas.

Medical supplies and food were on their way into infected zones where aid stations would be set up in the parking lots of shopping malls and school gymnasiums.

The troops would handle the ‘Zombie’ like invasion, medical personnel would do their best to stop those suffering infection from getting to that stage.

Still there were so many out there, so many not infected, they were stuck behind enemy lines.

Brian utilized the communications station.

“You hold a direct line to FEMA. I need you…” He pointed to another specialist. “To stay in contact with all research facilities, ask for hourly updates even if nothing changes. Keep me posted.”

He had another monitoring transmissions from boots on the ground, and another solely dedicated to scanning the airwaves for survivors calling out, and militia that would be transmitting for anyone out there alive, needing help, or wanting to help.

Everyone did their job, and Brian worked on the task of looking at the future.

Even though defeating the infected was a priority job, Brian looked at another aspect as more important. Safe cities, cities that could be sealed for survivors, proactive testing and even locations in cold zones.

The continuity of life, the survival of mankind, was vital. He began the task of working on that plan so that humanity did not succumb to the infection that tragically and rapidly was taking over the world.

While the human race was still breathing there was a fighting chance. It wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

<><><><>

Looking for Book 2?

Book 2 is available on Amazon

THREE MILES OUT: BOOK 2

<><><><>

Thank you so much for diving into this book. I hope you enjoyed it.

Please visit my website www.jacquelinedruga.com and sign up for my mailing list for updates, freebies, new releases and giveaways. And, don’t forget my new Kindle club!

Your support is invaluable to me. I welcome and respond to your feedback. Please feel free to email me at Jacqueline@jacquelinedruga.com