Cough (12 page)

From what Albert had told him, Wells was expecting a perimeter to be put up round their town, about a mile out. Littlefield was easy to lock down. In a way he was glad. At least in his town, wouldn’t be responsible for spreading it anywhere else.

What he wasn’t expecting, was that twenty minutes before all hell broke loose in his town, interior perimeters were erected as well.

The National Guard rolled in and before the first cough, panic has begun.

Some Army doctor, Wells didn’t get his name, speaking muffled through a gas mask, told Wells they wanted to set up quarantine areas.

“This is my town,” Wells told him. “I already have quarantine plans.”

“What about large quarantine for maybe groups that were exposed at one time.”

“Volunteer fire hall is the plan. The rest we will restrict to their homes.”

“How could you know to make preparations?”

“I have a federal agent in town who has been following this bug. We’ve been waiting on it. We’re ready.”

“My Dear, Chief of Police,” the Army doctor stated arrogantly. “You are not ready for this.”

Wells wanted to slug the doctor, speaking down to him as if he were a peon. But the doctor was right.

Midway during the walk to the fire hall, the first car crashed.

For as much as Wells heard about the virus, for as much as he thought he was informed, he wasn’t. He wasn’t prepared to watch the people he knew and talked to on a daily basis, fall to the ground, convulsing and choking on their own blood after experiencing a violent coughing fit.

There weren’t enough people stationed, and those he did have waiting and ready were at a shocked loss on what to do.

Any emergency workers had to distinguish between helping those who fell ill and those who were innocently injured in a crash. There was no one to fight the fire that broke out at Fife’s Diner.

It took the virus for Wells to realize exactly how many people visited that crash site. Was it the whole town? It seemed like it.

Littlefield fell.

Everything just collapsed in chaos while the National Guard stood by and watched.

President make decisions.

Chief Wells and his men were left to pick up the pieces and he was fearful of seeing what remained when he did.

First he had to instill calm, he had to get those who were sick to stay in their homes and those who were exposed to stay put.

Infect no one else. Stop the spread. To get that he had to get the word out. With the hysteria on the streets no one would listen if they could hear. So he went to the radio station. He hated to leave those on the street, but it was the only way he could think of. It wouldn’t take long, just a few minutes.

The door to the station was bolted shut and Wells had to pound on it until the DJ answered.

A young college age guy was manning the station alone and locked the door.

“Are they zombies?” the DJ asked.

“No, just sick.”

“I’m gonna die, aren’t I?”

“Have you been in here?”

The DJ nodded.

“Then stay in here. Do not go out. Listen do you have the ability to record me. Let me record a message and then you just play it over and over until I make a new one. Can you do that?”

“Yes. Yes. I can, Chief we can’t reach anyone. There’s no news, no cable or internet.”

“We don’t need it. You just need to reach the people of this city. I need you to record my message.”

Nervously nodding, the DJ waved Wells to follow him. They entered the DJ booth and he and Wells both sat down.

“I don’t have a producer. It’s Saturday,” the DJ said. “So I’m gonna broadcast you and record you as I do it, then I’ll be able to play it.”

“That works.”

“Do you want me to play an emergency beep before and after? Get people’s attention.”

“That would be great.”

The DJ made adjustments on the sound board, pushed the microphone Wells’ way and handed him a headset. “Do you know what you want to say?”

“Want to say?” Wells shook his head. “No. But I know what I have to say.” He placed on the headset.

“After the beep, you’re on.”

Wells nodded.

He projected no less than strength and calm, but inside he was shaking as badly as the DJ. The sound of the emergency tone when through him like a dagger. Twisting his insides more with nervousness and make his stomach twitch.

When the tone was over. He started his announcement.

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On Main Street just outside of Breyer’s no one seemed to notice the long emergency sounding beep that came from somewhere.

The townspeople were too concerned with those who were injured, those fallen on the street. As was Stokes.

Men and woman hovered on the sidewalks next to the bodies of loved ones. Mothers sobbed in agony while holding the lifeless body of their children.

Bodies hung out of cars, while the injured searched desperately for someone to help them.

People were helping, there just wasn’t enough hands.

The shrill cry of a child rose above the noise and Stokes sought out the sound. A toddler cried as she wandered the wreckage filled street, her head bloody, finger near her mouth. “Mommy!” She cried. “Mommy!”

“This is Chief Wells,”
his voice echoed in the street. It seemed when it did, people stopped. Or at least slowed down to pay attention.

“I know you are scared. So am I. I know you want answers. I’ll do my best. This message will repeat and I’ll update when I know more.”

“Mommy!” the toddler continued to scream out.

“Three days ago, a pathogen on route to a facility was accidently released in Littlefield. We weren’t ready nor did we know what the impact would be. It is a highly contagious virus. It kills. It has a three day incubation from exposure to symptoms. Because of that I beg you do not attempt to leave town. If you were exposed in a large group of people, please report to the fire hall. If you are in your home. Stay there. If you have not been exposed, stay in your homes. If you have a body in your home, please leave a white cloth in view. If you need food or water, leave a dark cloth. Someone will be by. I urge calm. I know it’s hard. We will get through this.”

Beep.

That was it? Stokes thought. Was it enough. Would the town calmly accept what Wells announced and follow instructions? The quick return to chaos told him while they blindly accepted the story of a solar anomaly, they weren’t too fast to accept a scary truth.

The toddler’s cry caught his attention, and while preparing to grab the child, Stokes realized he lost her.

The Ceiling Tile woman was no longer beside him.

Was she aiding someone who needed help? He looked around and received his answer. She was making her way down the street, through the crowds and quickly too.

Stokes darted into the street, grabbed the toddler and handed her off to the first able bodied person he saw, then he pursued the Ceiling Tile woman.

She picked up the pace and so did he.

He lost sight of her when she turned the bend, but saw that she stopped.

She didn’t have a choice. National Guardsman in facemasks blocked the street and blocked her from going any further.

“Stand back ma’am, this block is secured.” The guard told her.

“I need to get home. I need to find my kids,” she argued.

“No. We can’t let you. This was a large exposure area.”

“My house is right down there.” She pointed. “Six blocks.”

“Sorry Ma’am, no one gets out of this area, Report to the fire hall. This block is secure from Second to Fourth.”

Stokes approached. “Excuse me soldier,” he reached into s back pocket and pulled out his ID, “Can I take her through. I’m a federal agent.”

The soldier merely glanced down. “Dude, you could be the president and you wouldn’t get through.”

Ceiling Tile woman glanced at him. “A federal agent. Right.” She shook her head and walked by him.

“What? I am.” Stokes trailed behind her.

“Why are you following me?” she asked.

“You gave in too easy. You just didn’t strike me as the type to say, ok, I’ll go to the fire hall.”

“I’m not.” She kept walking. “And I didn’t give up. Mr. Federal Agent.”

“Stokes, call me Stokes. And where are you headed.”

“Home.”

“You heard him, the area is secure.”

“I heard him say Main from Second to Fourth is secure.”

“By National Guardsman.”

“So.” She continued, to walk. “Mr. Stokes. They don’t know this town. You don’t know this town.
I
… know this town. I’m going home.” She moved at a champion speed walking pace. Through the chaotic scenes of death in front of Breyer’s to the next block she was basically unnoticed by anyone except Stokes.

Eventfully, a good block down she stopped. She looked left, then right, then opened the door of a store in front of her.

Stokes glanced up to the Shotsy sign. “She stopped for a drink.”

It was the bar from the first night in town and it was completely empty.

“Why are you following me?” she asked.

“Cause I’m curious,”

“How I’m getting home?”

“That and …. You were there.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You were at the release of the virus. Ground zero. Did Wells stop at your house and give you a measles vaccine out of the blue.”

“What are you talking about? No.”

“You should be sick.”

“Oh my God.” She flew through the building down a back hall.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“My son. He was there. He was at ground zero. I have to get home.”

Never stopping her pace, she arrived at the back emergency door, pushed on the bar and peeked out. After a beat, she raced out the door.

Stokes realized she knew where she was going. She knew a way around the blockade, and without hesitation, he followed.

Facts. That’s all he had time for, all he wanted to hear. Facts that concerned the United States. He didn’t care what other countries were doing or what was going on. It wasn’t even a priority to find whoever did it. The President just wanted to fix what was happening, then he would focus. Just like if the police found a gunshot victim, they wouldn’t chase the criminal before getting the person help.

He was already somewhat removed, sitting two hundred feet below the White House, breathing filtered air. He didn’t see the reason for it. There were no known cases of the new virus being called, Hemorrhagic Respiratory virus. None. In fact the president was being briefed since the sudden and seemingly timed outbreaks occurred.

Limited staff was permitted in the air tight area. Aside from his family, and a few military personal, he needed only his Secretary of State and a woman named Nadia Lenza with him.

Nadia was the most sought after virologist. Even the World Health Organization tried to entice her into joining them. She declined. She counseled on outbreaks, but otherwise preferred to concentrate on childhood viruses.

The second it was believed that the virus was released she was sent down to SAT to examine Kimble’s work the virus and research.

“I’ve been able to examine the virus in the purest form. The antidote does work. As an antidote and vaccine. Unfortunately,” She said, “Right now, we have ten doses. One of which I’d like to give to you.”

“No,” The president replied. “No, I will bear through this like every other American. You need the treatment. You need to work on this.”

“I’m trying.’

“What do we have?”

“Deadly, highly contagious virus. It has a seventy-two hour expose to show. Meaning, after you are exposed you show symptoms and die in seventy-two hours. Contact victims live a little longer, but not much. But the problem is Dr. Kimble’s research only exposed chimps to the symptomatic chimps. We don’t know if a person is contagious while asymptomatic.”

“Meaning ….”

“Meaning, all those people exposed in Vegas could have passed it on before their first cough. If they did, we’ll know in about twelve hours.”

“Has anyone spoken to Dr. Kimble?” the president asked.

Nadia replied, “Due to his injuries the hospital found it necessary to keep him in a medically induced coma. So he has no answers.”

The president sighed, “John?” He looked at the Secretary of State. “Where are we?”

“We have one hundred and twelve cities and four airplanes that had outbreaks,” he said. “We were able to contain and quarantine almost all those around them.”

Nadia added. “And that will only be helpful if those infected weren’t contagious before they started showing symptoms.”

“If they were?” The president asked.

“We don’t want to think about that. We’ll lose control.”

“We have a vaccine. An antidote,” the president said.

Nadia nodded. “But it will take a good twelve weeks to produce enough to distribute.”

“This can’t be happening.” The president started to pace. “What about the town in Arizona.”

“It is locked down and secure,” John said, “We can gauge a lot by that town. What happens there can help us in assessing what is happening everywhere in this country?”

The president turned to Nadia. “Is there any way to stop this? Worst case scenario.”

“Yes and no. We need to be vigilant. This first round is crucial,” she replied. “Anyone near or around the first infected folks need to be quarantined. But all it takes is one person to jump start it again. It can, worst case scenario, keep going until it takes everyone it will take.”

“Right now,” John said. “We have it narrowed to one hundred and twelve cites. We shut them down. Period. No travel in or out. If need be we have governors send out National Guard, state by state closures. Instead of quarantining people, we shut down the towns and states. Tell people to stay in their homes.”

“Doing so,” Nadia stated. “Is shutting down the country which will have long term financial effects. But I have to agree. Shutting down cities is better than pockets of quarantines, they won’t work.”

The president sighed out heavily.

“We also can be aggressive,” John said. “We initiate Wild Fire.”

The president’s attention was rapidly caught. He looked at John then to Nadia for a response.

Nadia lifted her hands. “I am very humanitarian. But Wild Fire is an option. A drastic option.”

“Drastic situations,” John said. “Call for drastic measures.”

“So you think we should just burn out everywhere infected,” the president said. “That won’t bode well for re-election.”

John chuckle sarcastically, “Sir, if we don’t do something, a re-election is the last thing that will happen.”

“Wild fire,” The President reached for a chair then lowered into it. “I need to think about that one. I really do. It’s not a decision I can make lightly or quickly.”

“I understand,” John said.

The President ran his hand over his face. “It sounds so harsh. An inhumane to do.”

“Look at it this way,” John said. “It’s a hell of lot more inhumane for the country if you don’t.”

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