Hour 23 (24 page)

The faces in the crowd, once smiling and chuckling at how a young boy ended up on an adventure with his girlfriend, her dad, and his English teacher, now turned flat and somber.

“It’s hard, but it would be easier if I knew what happened to them. I’ve been going to grief counseling once a week, and apparently I’m still in the denial phase, and I’m not supposed to be. But I don’t care. I like to picture them escaping alive. I like to think that I just haven’t found them yet.”

Nolan detested crying in front of Chloe. He absolutely hated it, and he could feel the tides of sadness rolling and tingling up the back of his neck, so he decided to abruptly sit down.

“That’s it, I guess.”

***

“Could you believe the wait at your fancy pants vegan place?” Jim said, and he slid a chair out from their table for Dana to sit at.

“I can, it’s supposed to be fantastic,” Dana said, scooting into her seat. “I’m sure you’re all real torn up that we didn’t eat there.”

Nolan smiled. “I would have given them a chance. They looked good. It was only a twenty-minute wait.”

“Thank you, Nolan,” Dana said as Jim sat down beside her.

“I think I would have starved to death if I had to wait twenty-one minutes,” Jim joked, picking up a menu and pretending to look it over.

Chloe looked disgustedly across the table at a giant, animatronic Cat dancing behind her father’s seat.

“Did they have to sit us next to Carly the Pizza Cat?” she asked, not trying to disguise the attitude in her tone.

“You used to love this place when you were a kid,” Jim said, not bothering to look up from his menu.

“Yeah, dad. When I was a kid.”

Jim set his menu down.

“We haven’t ordered yet, we can go somewhere else.”

“No, dad, I’m starving too.”

“Exactly, and that’s why we’re here.” A child went running by their table, his fists clenched full of golden arcade tokens and paper tickets. “Why not make the best of it? You can challenge your old man to some skee-ball after.”

Chloe tried to hide the smile creeping from the corner of her lips.

“Ah, there it is,” Jim said.

“Whatever, dad.”

Nolan rubbed his shoulder with the palm of his right hand.

“Don’t tell me you’ll be too sore for skee-ball, Nole,” Jim said, noticing Nolan grunt as he rubbed his shoulder.

“Are these things supposed to take this long to heal?” Nolan asked.

“I don’t know,” Jim said, “I’ve never had one.”

“It’ll be tender for a week or so,” Dana chimed in. “Let me see it again.”

Nolan rolled up his shirt sleeve. On his shoulder, covering a small pink scar, was a cartoon bullet wearing exaggerated kid gloves.

Jim sneered and shook his head.

“He’s just being a grumpy old man,” Dana said. “I think it’s cute.”

A waitress stopped by the table wearing a brightly colored red and yellow apron.

“It’s a space-tastic day at Planet Pizza. My name’s Melissa, what can I get for you folks?”

Jim looked up from the table. “I don’t think we’re ready yet. Getting the four of us to decide on pizza is like negotiating diplomatic relations, you know?”

The waitress nodded. “I’ll bring y’all back some drink cups and give you some time to decide. In the meantime…”

The waitress reached into her apron and pulled out a stack of gleaming, golden coins.

“Your first fifteen Planet Medallions are on us.”

“Well that’s great,” Jim said, and he thanked the waitress.

Jim spun a coin on the table, making eye contact with Chloe as the waitress breezed away.

“What do you say? Loser gets the check,” Jim said, challenging his daughter.

“No, dad…”

“What? Cause you can’t afford it? Or are you too chicken shit?”

A mother two tables down, seated with her young children, glared at Jim. For a moment, he forgot they were the oldest guests at Planet Pizza.

Again, Chloe couldn’t resist smiling.

“Teams?” she asked.

“Fine, if you think it will help.”

“Then I get to pick first.”

“Gee, I wonder who you’ll pick—”

“I pick Nolan.”

Nolan looked up from his phone. “No, don’t bring me into this.”

Chloe looked annoyed. “Come on. You have to.”

Nolan nodded reluctantly. “Fine.”

Jim looked beside him at Dana.

“Jim, please—”

“What? You’re going to leave me with no teammate?”

“Do I have to?”

Jim grinned, and in a tone that clearly mocked Chloe’s, said, “Come on. You have to.”

Dana looked around the table. Nolan had pocketed his cell phone, Chloe was twitching her legs up and down in anticipation, and Jim was clearly ready to leap from the table at any moment.

“How did I end up with you nutcases?” Dana asked, only half smiling.

Without warning, Jim prodded Dana’s waist, tickling her just where he knew she was the most sensitive. Dana let out a burst of uncontrollable laughter.

“You wouldn’t have it any other way,” Jim said, grinning and looking Dana deep in the eyes before kissing her. “Come on.”

“Fine, fine,” Dana said, standing up from the table just as their waitress was returning with four empty, plastic cups.

“Executive decision, just a plain cheese with pepperoni,” Jim said to the waitress.

Dana raised her eyebrows at Jim.

“Half cheese, half pepperoni,” Jim clarified. “And some salads and breadsticks would be nice, too.”

“Perfect, I’ll put it right in for you,” the waitress said, reaching into her pocket before Jim could walk away.

“Here,” she said, handing him another small stack of tokens, “but don’t tell anyone.”

“I really appreciate that,” Jim said, pocketing the coins. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” the waitress said. “You have a beautiful family.”

“Oh…” Jim said, before getting ready to explain. Dana, Nolan, and Chloe were already waiting at a skee-ball table on the other side of the restaurant. Chloe was impatiently waving for her father to come over.

“They really are, aren’t they?”

TWENTY-THREE

“Good evening, and thanks for tuning in. I’m Vivian Morales, and on behalf of all of us at CNN, we welcome you to a very special episode of America Tonight.

“Its been eight months since a deadly virus swept across New York City, reaching as far upstate as Orange and Putnam counties. Scores of citizens are still displaced and unable to return home. Countless more have perished from the disease. With no exact numbers available, current estimates project that nearly one million people have died as a result of EV1.

“Now, as the nation continues to mourn and close in on the eight month anniversary of the outbreak, there appears to be signs of hope for America. This evening, the Dow and Nasdaq closed with the most optimistic point growth of the past eight months. The American dollar is growing stronger by the day. And, perhaps most importantly, it has been several months since a confirmed case of EV1 has been reported.

“Yet, there are still many more questions than answers. Joining us tonight to help answer some of those questions, and perhaps better understand EV1, is Dr. Paul Merrill. Dr. Merrill is a Harvard educated immunologist, a leading researcher of EV1, and was one of the first members of the medical community to encounter the virus.

“Doctor, thank you for joining us.”

Dr. Merrill froze for a moment. Vivian Morales was so much prettier in person than she ever appeared on television, and though they had met before taping, the doctor was still a bit star-struck. Though his appearance years prior on
The Daily Doc
made him no stranger to a television studio, the sudden realization that this was his first live broadcast worried him. The intensity of the lights on set made him queasy, as did the smell of the makeup that had been caked onto his face just moments before the show was set to air.

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Morales,” the doctor answered confidently, after a short pause.

“Many believe that what we experienced last fall was a modern day black plague. What would you have to say to that?”

“Well,” Dr. Merrill said, folding his hands together.
Stick to the script. The script, the script, the script.
Each question and answer had been carefully rehearsed with Agents Perry and Ritchie hours before the interview was set to broadcast. The purpose of the interview was to reinforce two things in the mind of the American public: first, that the EV1 virus was under control; and second, that New York would sooner—rather than later—be safe again for habitation.

“We did not experience a modern day black plague, and we should thank our lucky stars that we did not.” Dr. Merrill sighed. “The black plague annihilated one-third of the earth’s population—EV1 has claimed less than one percent of that number at best. I don’t say that as a disservice to the many, many who have perished. I say it so that perhaps some comfort can be brought to those listening or watching at home, by putting this situation in perspective.”

“You, as well as several other leaders of the scientific community, have expressed a sense of certainty that the virus is  under control. Just recently, you published a report wherein you used the term ‘tamed’ when referring to EV1. If the virus has yet to reach the scale of destruction of the black plague, can you be certain that it simply hasn’t reached its full potential?”

“Yes.”

“And how? There are entire communities—many in areas no where near New York or the affected counties—that have isolated themselves away from the world. If there was a little boy watching right now from one of those neighborhoods, who hasn’t gone outside a two mile radius of his front door for nearly a year, what would you tell him?”

“First, I would tell him not to be afraid. I would tell him that all of these comparisons to the black death are trivial and without merit. The black death was caused by a parasite, this recent epidemic was caused by a virus. The black death occurred during a time that was woefully distant of the modern miracles of science and information that we posses today. I would tell that little boy to go outside and play.” Dr. Merrill looked into the camera.
The script.
“Then I would tell his parents to consider taking a vacation, and to stop living underneath a cloud of worry.”

“I have it written down here, doctor, that you were actually the one who named the virus—despite the fact that yourself and several other doctors in New York encountered it simultaneously.”

“Yes,” the doctor lied. “EV1. The extermination virus.”

“That’s a very gloomy title for a virus from someone who believes its reign of destruction has come to an end.”

Dr. Merrill chuckled. “The name came from a moment of passion. It was never my idea for it to stick. Certain individuals read my field notes, and things got carried away from there. I don’t think that’s what’s most important right now.”

“I would argue that it is important, doctor, when the same person who once believed the virus would exterminate mankind is now telling us to go outside and play.”

The doctor felt a drop of sweat bead on his forehead. Vivian was meandering from the script.

“If you insist,” Dr. Merrill said, trying to hide his annoyance, “I will tell you that the name is more poetic than literal. I realized very early on that this virus’s greatest strength was its element of surprise. If you found a loved one exhibiting symptoms of EV1, you may hug them, nurse them, comfort them, and likely end up becoming infected yourself. But, thanks to a rapid dissemination of information, as well as a brisk and carefully calculated military quarantine, that element of surprise was quickly lost. Those who were infected moved slowly and weakly before spreading the virus—that is not the mark of a virus that can cause extinction. If it were up to me, I would rename it something else.”

“When was the last reported infection?” Vivian asked without pause.

“Four months ago, approximately.”

“How does a virus with a shelf life of twenty-three hours continue to affect the north east region for months after its discovery?”

“That’s an excellent question,” Dr. Merrill said, and he leaned back in his chair. “And there are several answers. First is the fact that not everyone evacuated. Many stayed behind in the scope of the disaster zone. Some Amish communities, for example, as well as other groups of folks who refused to leave. Secondly, we’re still not certain of the origin of EV1. We have several leading theories—”

“Such as?”

“I’m unable to disclose them at this time, but they’re great theories. And I wish I could delve into them, but until we are absolutely certain, such information could be misguiding and do more harm than good. And in fact, the biggest challenge with EV1 is not that those who contract it die twenty-three hours later. It’s the virus’s incubation period that proves most difficult. Over ninety percent of the time, those who contract EV1 will succumb to the virus within two minutes. Depending on a wide range of variables, however—age, race, weight, gender—some incubation times have been as long as several hours. The pilot of the Oceanic flight, for instance, had been living with the virus for nearly a day before exhibiting symptoms.”

“So, people could be walking around, carrying the disease right now and not know it?”

“Well, yes. But to date, that has been a problem exclusively reserved to the State of New York. There has been wide-spread field testing for EV1. We have taken samples in every state in America, and nearly every nation in the global community has helped our efforts, also. Keep in mind that many citizens volunteer to be tested. Regardless, there has not been a single reported case of EV1 outside of the great State of New York.”

“What are your hopes for immunization?”

“Another excellent question, Miss Morales,” Dr. Merrill said, unbuttoning his suit jacket. “We hope to have a vaccination ready for distribution within the next month. I know for your viewers that seems like an eternity, but for a vaccination to be prepared like this in under a year is nothing less than extraordinary, and is a testament to the global partnerships that have been forged in the medical community during the aftermath of this pandemic.”

Dr. Merill paused in his chair. He felt disgusted with himself; for having to adhere to a script, for taking the orders of mysterious agents he knew little of, and for having to push an agenda. He suddenly recalled his time spent in residency, towards the end of medical school, when the AIDS epidemic first began. How many years since then had passed without a vaccination, or a cure? And now, just eight short months since the dawn of EV1, the mysterious agents from D.C. would be hand delivering him a vaccination on a silver platter. The doctor was not a religious man, but he had an urgent and unshakeable feeling that he was doing business with the devil.

Vivian Morales thanked Dr. Merrill again for joining the show, then turned towards her camera and introduced the next segment. Dr. Merrill let out a deep sigh. For the first time in a long time, he couldn’t wait to be back in New York.

***

The doctor was exhausted from his trip back to New York. It was a lengthy flight from Los Angeles to Pittsburgh. Despite domestic flights resuming several months earlier, New York was still a no-fly zone. And, it wasn’t as if he could take a train or a taxi for the extensive drive from Pittsburgh to Riverside, New York. A military escort waited for him at the airport, shuffled him into the backseat of a camouflaged Humvee, and escorted him back home.

Miles and miles of destroyed towns and abandoned communities passed outside his window before Dr. Merrill saw the outline of Riverside Mall on the horizon. In the weeks after the epidemic, when the death and destruction had finally been brought to a simmer, the abandoned mall was utilized as a makeshift laboratory for Dr. Merrill, a specialized team of epidemiologists from WHO, and agents of the CDC. One half of the building had been converted into a hospital of sorts, used for experimentation and research, while the other half was transformed into crude living quarters for the staff. Dr. Merrill’s current home address was the south east corner of a former JC Penny.

Outside of the hospital, Agent Litchfield was smoking a cigarette. When the Humvee came to a stop, he reached for the back door handle of the vehicle and opened it.

“Hey, Hollywood,” Litchfield said with a cackle as the doctor stepped out.

Dr. Merrill wasn’t amused. “You know it wasn’t my choice, yes?”

“I know, but don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it at least a little bit. Hey, how hot was that broad Vivian up close?”

“She was just lovely,” Dr. Merrill said. “As fine of a journalist as I would expect to find in Los Angeles.”

“At least the weather must have been nice. Damn, practically summer and I’m shivering. The sun hasn’t even set yet.”

“Too bad our virus couldn’t have swept through Florida?” Dr. Merrill said, chuckling for the first time since arriving home. “We could be running lab tests with pink flamingos, sipping fruity drinks with tiny umbrellas.” Dr. Merrill groaned. “That’s New York for you. Don’t worry, it will warm up soon enough, and the perpetual chill in the air will be a distant memory.”

Litchfield finished his cigarette, flicked it on the pavement, and stamped it out with his foot.

“Come, old friend. Walk me in, tell me what I’ve missed,” Dr. Merrill said, holding what was once the door to the mall food court open for Agent Litchfield.

“We started testing the vaccination.”

Dr. Merrill looked surprised. “Human trials?”

“Some of the guys were lining up to volunteer the moment your girl Stephanie dropped them off.”

“You should have waited for me.”

“There was no stopping it, doc. The excitement here was at a fever pitch.”

“You still should have waited for me.”

“Forgive me your highness,” Litchfield said. “You missed baby’s first steps, sure. But aren’t you curious as to how he’s walking?”

“Tell me.”

“No reported side effects yet. So far, human trials are running at a best case scenario projection. No sickness. No one has turned, either, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That was never a concern of mine, agent.”

“We all knew deep down there was a chance of it happening.”

“How many have been vaccinated?” Dr. Merrill asked, as he took off his jacket and replaced it with a lab coat.

“Currently, thirty. Mostly nurses. Feds are ready to start churning them out as soon as our reports are finished.”

A repeating, buzzing alarm suddenly initiated. It echoed through the wings of the mall.
Bzzt, Bzzt
.
Bzzt
. It both startled and worried Agent Litchfield and Dr. Merrill.

“Been a long time since that’s gone off, huh?” Litchfield said, not seeming too worried.

The two hurried into hazmat suits and rushed to the main entrance at the northern wing of the mall. The alarm indicated that an EV1 victim was being rushed into the mall.

Litchfield’s teams were still finding the occasional EV1 patient wandering the countryside or stumbling through town. Not that it was any business of Vivian Morales or the viewers of the CNN news network.

Though he stated otherwise, the last EV1 positive patients brought in entered Dr. Merrill’s facility just six days before his primetime news interview. They were from a cult operating in West Chester. A group of whack jobs, as Litchfield referred to them, hid out in an abandoned church during the evacuation. Adults, children, old, young—they would take one infected member, and just before their twenty-third hour, intentionally use them to infect the next cult member in line. When Litchfield’s military team found them, they discovered three persons infected, two survivors, and a stack of thirty-two deceased bodies in the front of the church.