End Days Super Boxset (83 page)

“Protective clothing, water filters, antibiotics, peroxide, gloves, and some food and water,” Greg said, now going from room to room and adding things to the bag.

“My aunt has plenty of food and water. Well, let me correct that: wine and water.”

He reentered the living room and placed the duffel bag on the floor. “If you find that you can't leave the house, you're going to need more.”

“How bad do you think this thing could get?” Veronica asked, perplexed.

“I don't know, but I strongly suggest that you go to your aunt's tonight.”

Veronica stood up in a half daze. “I don't know how to thank you. You really didn't have to go through all this trouble.”

“I wanted to. It's no problem, really.”

He picked up the duffel bag and led her out of the house and back to her car. “You have at least a week’s worth of supplies to sustain you in the event of an outbreak.”

She popped the trunk of her car, and Greg tossed the bag inside.

“Oh, I forgot to say bye to Captain,” she said.

“He's too busy running around right now, but I'm sure you'll get a chance again.”

“I'm sure I will,” she said, smiling. She gave Greg a quick hug and thanked him again. As they were about to part, their phones buzzed in unison. Greg's was in his pocket, Veronica's was in her purse. It was an odd coincidence.

Greg dug his phone out and looked at the screen, just as Veronica was doing.

Citywide Alert:

Epidemic threat. Quarantine measures immediately in place. All major roads leading into and out of the city under temporary blockade.

Their phones vibrated again.

Citywide Alert:

Mayor places citywide curfew, asks residents to stay inside their homes until further notice.

They looked at each other in absolute uncertainty. “Is this for real?” Veronica asked.

Greg shook his head without answering. “Come with me, real quick,” he said. They went back into the house, where Greg reached for his remote and turned on the TV. It appeared to be a news report like any other, except the graphics on the screen were startling. A local newsman was at his desk speaking, while the words “Ebola Patient Escapes Hospital” scrolled across the bottom.

“The mayor has called for a citywide alert after reports of a suspected Ebola patient escaping quarantine an hour ago. The patient, described as a distraught woman in her thirties, stormed out of the hospital and flagged down a blue Ford Ranger. CDC officials have urged patience from residents as they fight to contain the disease at Carson Tahoe, the largest hospital in Carson City.

“Law enforcement, in conjunction with the CDC, is pursuing the woman, who is believed to be carrying the disease. Officials were unclear on whether she poses a threat to others. The search has instituted an immediate travel ban to and from the city, and a 9:00 p.m. curfew has been put in place to allow law enforcement to narrow their search.”

As the reporter spoke, grainy traffic-cam pictures were displayed on the screen, revealing different shots of the truck and a blurry license plate number.

“They have not released the name of the driver yet, but will only say he was taken into custody, and had no knowledge of the escaped patient beyond the fact that she was a hitchhiker. Residents are urged to comply with the curfew and travel ban for the wellbeing of themselves and their families. The mayor is expected to address the public within the next hour. For now, the hunt continues for the escaped Ebola woman.”

Greg muted the television and turned to Veronica. “You should go.”

“Yeah, but what about the curfew?”

He suddenly became more intense. “You need to go now! Go to your aunt’s house before it's too late. You might just make it.”

He walked her out of the house as her mind raced ahead, sorting through her options. The threat now seemed as real as the stars in the sky and the hand in front of her face. There was no reason to start questioning his judgment. “I'll go,” she said. “Why don't you come with me?”

“I've got a good setup here,” he said. “I'll be fine. Just remember, it's only temporary.”

She said little more as she got into her car. She turned the engine as Greg wished her good luck.

“Call me if anything comes up,” he said.

She backed out of his driveway and drove off into the night. Greg watched her brake lights fade and then went back into the house, bolting it shut and preparing to hunker down and prep.

Veronica drove with near tears in her eyes. The car radio was on, and the news simply confirmed everything she had just heard at Greg's house. Everything was happening too soon and too fast. She cursed herself for not being prepared like he was. She had a life in the city. She had a job, friends, bills, and responsibilities. What was she doing just running away from it all? There were police cars everywhere, but none took notice of her. Her heart raced.

Three large military trucks passed her from the other side, their engines roaring. She could barely drive or think straight. The highway exit to Reno was nearing, and she pushed forward, confident that she was making the right decision. As she neared the exit, closer by the minute, she noticed a barrage of flashing lights. The police were completely blocking the way.

“No, no, no,” she said to herself. “This can't be happening.”

There were at least five police cars parked and angled in such a way that there was no way around them. She squinted at the dizzying array of blue and red flashes meant to startle and confuse anyone trying to pass by. There were others vehicles, and they weren't police.

There were two large vans with chemical teams outside surveying the area, dressed in HAZMAT gear. The mere sight of them was chilling. The police wore lower-grade protective gear with gas masks. She slowed to a halt, the only car on the empty merge lane, and decided to play dumb.

An officer approached her as another police vehicle drove up behind her and shined a bright white light into her car from a mounted spotlight. She turned off the engine, rolled down the window, and remained strapped into her seat.

“Good evening, ma'am,” the masked officer said.

“Evening, Officer,” she said back. “What's going on?”

He gave her a look, surprised that she seemed unaware. “Well, maybe you haven't heard, but the greater Carson City area is under immediate lockdown. Now, it's nothing to worry about, the travel ban is only temporary. There's actually a curfew in place.” The officer stopped and looked at his watch. “In about fifteen minutes, so I'd go home if I were you.”

“Please, sir, I'm just trying to get to my aunt's house. Whatever the reason for the lockdown, it has little to do with me.”

“Afraid we can't let you through. We're under strict guidelines, and it's out of our hands. Belongs to the feds now.”

“You've got to be kidding me,” Veronica protested.

“I'm sorry, but we're going to need you to turn around, go back to wherever you came from, and stay indoors until further notice.”

A large, armor-heavy truck rumbled from behind them and she tried to speak over the racket, but the officer obviously could hear nothing she said. Helicopters flew overhead, their spotlights arcing slowly, searching. It looked to be the largest manhunt Carson City had ever seen.

“What’s going on?” she yelled as the truck passed her. It parked to the side, and several police officers exited through the back wearing protective suits, masks, and brandishing heavy artillery. They looked like some kind of elite hit squad, and their presence was frightening.

“All right!” Veronica shouted, jamming her car into reverse. “You win. Happy?”

“Now, ma'am, there's no reason to get all upset.”

She ignored him and began to drive in reverse, but the police car behind her was blocking her way.

“Can you tell that guy to get out of my way?” she shouted.

The officer signaled the car to move, and once it did, Veronica peeled out in reverse. Denied exit onto the freeway, she turned the car around and drove into Carson City. She was out of ideas.
Fifteen minutes
, she thought.
Fifteen minutes, or they'll do what?
There was only one clear option
.

Greg was busy sealing up his house, taping plastic over the windows and nailing boards at certain entry points, when he heard the familiar sound of the blue Volvo’s engine as it pulled into his driveway. Captain's ears perked up and he began to bark with excitement.

“Hush, boy,” he said, walking to the front door. As he stepped outside, he was greeted with Veronica leaning against her car with her arms crossed.

“Veronica?”

“I didn't make it. They closed everything off. It's for real, Greg. It's all for real.”

Greg didn't know what to say as Veronica continued. “I'm staying with you, Greg. It's my only option. You can't say no, either. I'll pull my weight, and we'll get through this together.”

Greg studied her for a moment, looking for signs that she was joking, but she had never looked so serious. He approached her holding a hammer.

“Welcome aboard. Let's get to work.”

Through the night, they stayed focused on the work ahead. Greg explained his hunkering down concept, which included another deep cleaning of the house, sealing the windows and doors, and placing electronic air filters in each room. He told her about the food and water supply on hand, along with the medical supplies, protective gear, and weapons. Veronica was most curious about the need to have so many weapons and ammo.

“Are you preparing for battle?” she asked with a laugh.

“Prepping is almost like a chess game. You have to constantly think ahead, starting with the worst-case scenario.”

Veronica listened intently as Greg continued.

“An epidemic could be the catalyst to a lot of things breaking down. You have to be ready for power outages, food and water shortages, and mass panic among the population. Once resources get low, that's when the looting starts.”

“And the weapons ward off the looters,” Veronica said.

“See, now you're getting it,” Greg said with enthusiasm.

There were four rooms in all in the house, including the kitchen, living room, Greg's bedroom, and the guest bedroom; with a total of nine windows: two in the living room, two in Greg’s room, two in the guest room, and one in the kitchen. He had boarded up all but two: the kitchen window, which faced the back yard, and one of the living room windows. That way he could watch for intruders and let some natural light into the house.

The house was nearly spotless from the recent deep cleaning. Of course, it could only stay so clean with Captain running about. The dog took a real shine to Veronica and reveled in her presence as Greg led her into the garage-turned-storage area.

“Is he always this energetic?” Veronica asked, laughing as Captain jumped up to her on his hind legs, holding a ball in his mouth.

Greg turned to them while covering his MRE pallet with tarp. “No, he's just showing off. Don't feed his ego.” He snapped his fingers at Captain and told him to go into the other room. Captain barked, drawing the sides of his mouth back into what looked like a smile. “Are you giving me sass?” Greg asked him.

“Oh, leave him alone,” Veronica said, petting him protectively. “He just wants attention.”

“That's the problem,” Greg said. He then stood up and looked at the closed garage door.

He had placed duct tape on all sides of it, effectively sealing it off from the inside. It had only taken three rolls, and the finished result looked like the work of a madman. The large door itself was made of hard plywood at least five layers thick. The walls and floor of the garage were made of concrete, and as a storage room for supplies, it was adequate.

There was no ventilation, and perhaps that would make it the safest place to be in the house during an epidemic. But every room, no matter how reinforced, had a way in. His house didn't offer the protection against disease of something like an underground bunker, but he had undoubtedly the most secure house on his block. Gone was his urge to call a neighborhood meeting to prepare for the outbreak. He wanted to help them all but had to take things one step at a time.

He showed Veronica the garage, and she seemed impressed by the amount of supplies he had stored, all hidden under different tarps.

“This is really something else, Greg,” she said. “You’re the real deal.”

“Just a guy trying to stay prepared,” he said, walking over to her.

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Sure, just some ordinary guy with a pallet of MREs in his garage.”

“Come on,” he said, walking inside, “it's getting late, and I want to finish the grand tour.”

He flipped off the garage light as Captain and Veronica followed him inside, into the kitchen. The house was relatively small but seemed spacious, mainly due to its minimal furnishing. Greg explained that part of him was a minimalist.

“I stock up on what I need to survive. That's what takes priority,” he said, as they walked into the living room with the smell of Pine-Sol in the air.

Veronica looked at him curiously. “Who are you, Greg Atkins?” she asked.

He didn’t answer. “Come on, I'll show you the guest bedroom,” he said, taking her luggage in hand.

They walked down the hall, finished in bamboo flooring, to a small room with both its windows boarded up with plywood, and reinforced and sealed with plastic sheets and duct tape. Greg flipped on the light as Veronica peered into the room. There was a bed and a dresser and the walls were empty.

“Very inviting,” she said.

“Well, it's mainly been Captain's room, but I recently washed the sheets and everything. Captain suddenly burst into the room and jumped on the bed as if reclaiming his territory. Veronica laughed.

“Down, boy,” Greg said, snapping his fingers. He placed Veronica's luggage in the room as Captain jumped down and followed them out. Greg turned off the light and shut the door. “He's going to have to learn to stay out of there for the next three days.”

“Oh, I don't mind him,” Veronica said, waving Greg off.

He showed her the bathroom and lastly, his room. It was as minimal as the other rooms, but she noticed some plaques on the wall that resembled military awards. There was also a small photograph pinned to the wall near his bed of a man and a woman with their arms around each other, twice Greg's age. She assumed it was a photo of his parents, whom he had never mentioned to her.

Back in the living room, Veronica watched the news on TV while Greg made them some hot tea in the kitchen. She called her Aunt Tilda and explained that the city had been quarantined, and that she was scared but safe with a friend. Tilda demanded that she call her parents and let them know she was okay, but she hadn't talked to them in five years. When she moved to Carson City, things had ended on a bad note with them. But if there ever was a time to call them, she was experiencing it now.

Her friends would think she had lost her mind for being at the house of a man she knew only as a customer from work—a house with boarded up windows. But the quarantine was real, and it was happening right before them. The news was on all channels, about the escaped Ebola patient, the curfew, and the quarantine of the city. The mandatory measures, of course, were not without resistance.

An unprecedented number of military and law enforcement personnel had been dispatched to enforce and maintain control. She watched images of angry commuters trying to defy roadblocks and others running from the police after being caught outdoors after curfew. If Veronica didn't know any better, she had to think that the mayor had lost his mind. He'd surely never win reelection after this. Perhaps it wasn't just the mayor calling the shots, however. There were greater forces at work. After seeing the chaos on television, she concluded that Greg's house was the safest place she could be.

After letting Captain out back, Greg walked into the room carrying two cups of tea. A small lamp on a stand next to the couch illuminated the room. Most of the house, however, was dark. The outside light was off, but the motion detectors were on. Greg wanted to draw as little attention to the house as possible.

“Teatime for the master prepper?” Veronica asked with a smile.

“You know it,” he said, sitting next to her on the couch.

He handed her one of the cups.

“Thank you.”

The television volume was low, but Greg could see the images of disorder on the screen taking place in the city, not far from where they were at. A long line of police with shields and riot gear stretched from one end of the street to the other, blocking the advancing crowds of people from getting through. Several cars and buildings throughout downtown had been torched, and their aerial images presented a city in chaos.

Veronica shook her head. “It's crazy. I just can't believe this is actually happening. I don't know what to do. I don't know who to call.”

They could hear helicopters pass by overhead as Captain barked from outside.

“I should let him in soon,” he said, taking a sip of his tea. “It's too early to put traps up, but with the way things are going now, I probably should in the next day or two.”

Veronica looked at him. “I'm sorry, traps?”

“Trip wire, sentry traps, flares, and things like that. Helps to alert me if there are intruders.”

“You never cease to amaze me. You've thought of everything.”

“No, if I had thought of everything, we'd be in an underground bunker now. Which reminds me, from this point on, make sure to wear your protective gear when going outside.”

“What about Captain?” she asked.

“I've got a system worked out with him, don't worry. After tonight, he's going to be a house dog.”

“I don't even want to know how that's going to work,” she said.

Greg took another sip of tea, watching TV as Veronica glanced in his direction. “I want to thank you for helping me like this. It's crazy and I can't believe I'm actually staying here, but I trust you, Greg. You always seem to know what you're talking about.”

“I try, but you’re knowledgeable about diseases yourself. Anyone else, I think, would say ‘thanks but no thanks.’ We're just going to have to get you up to speed on some prepper things.”

“If we're going to be spending the next couple of days together, I'm going to be totally candid. I like you, Greg, as a friend. You're a really nice guy, but there's also a lot that I don't know about you. I guess what I'm trying to say is, as long as we look out for each other, I believe we can get through this.”

Greg took a moment and looked back at Veronica. The lamp reflected shadow and light off the side of her fair-skinned face. “I agree. And I feel the same way. I can't say that my actions were completely selfless. I did need someone else to hunker down with, or Captain and I might lose our minds.”

“I knew there was a catch!” Veronica said. “What about your

neighbors? What are they going to do?”

“I want to help them all, I do, but in dealing with an outbreak, it's best to minimize contact and begin hunkering down immediately. You’re the one person I took a risk with.”

“Well, I hope I'm worth it,” she said.

They both laughed and finished sipping their tea. Things were relatively quiet that night, but they began to spiral out of control in the days that followed.