Plague (8 page)

Circle Lounge was located on a busy street n
ear a tattoo shop and
a
dive restaurant. Surprisingly, the best Indian food in all of Maryland was also located on that same block. When he got to the block he looked at Circle Lounge and saw t
here wasn’t a line out front or even a bouncer and it gave
him
the impression
that is was more
of a restaurant than a bar. In fact, the west half of the building was a sushi restaurant that operated until five in the morning.

He parked across the street in paid parking and checked his watch again. He was half an hour late. Most women would tolerate a man that was ten or fifteen minutes late, but half an hour was too much for most. They would complain or make snide comments the entire night. One girl had even thrown her drink in his face.

But it was a trick he had been taught by his father. He had told Duncan that any woman that had the patience and grace not to mention your being half a
n hour late or let it bother
her
was one he needed to keep.

Duncan got inside and stood by the entryway to let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting.
The restaurant
smelled of strong perfume and he guessed trace amounts of scented air
were being
circulated through the vents to cover the smell of vomit
or
urine. No matter how classy the bar, over time, they would all stink like bodily fluids from drunks that were unable to make it all the way to the bathroom.

He saw Hank seated at a table on the restaurant side
.
H
e had two women with him, one on either side. Hank waved, irritation on his face though he tried to cover it with a smile. Duncan made his way over.

“How are you guys?” Duncan said. He held out his hand to the attractive blond
e
seated to Hank’s right. “You must be Rebecca,” he said. Rebecca was
whom
Hank had said he would bring. Duncan then turned to the other woman.

She was
also
attractive and wearing a revealing black dress with white stockings. She was dipping a toothpick into her martini
, trying to
get the second olive.

“And you must be Heather.”

She acknowledged him with a quick hello and then went back to the olive in the glass. Duncan sat down next to her.

“Hank’s told me a lot about you.”

“Oh yeah?” Heather said, not turning to him. “Like what?”

“Like he said you were at Georgetown right now getting your masters. In environmental studies, right?”

“Yup.”

Duncan could almost feel her irritation coming off
her like an electrical charge.
He turned to the menu
.
Hank sent him a quick glance and then said to Heather, “So
,
Duncan’s a microbiologist.”

“Hm,” Heather said, nibbling on the olive. “What made you want to do that?” She asked it in a way that let him know she wasn’t curious
,
more disgusted by the ridiculous
career choice
.

“The Congo,” Duncan said.

“What do you mean?”

“I was in the Congo as an intern for the United Nations when I was an undergrad. I was there during the Ebola outbreak in Tuwintu.”

“I haven’t heard about it.”

“No
?
F
ew people have. There’s so much horror there
,
an outbreak usually doesn’t catch people’s attention. But this one was particularly savage.”

Duncan glanced to Hank who gave him a look that said,
Please don’t tell some gross story and ruin this
. Duncan smiled at him.

“Se
e,” Duncan continued, “it infected an entire hospital. The staff, the doctors, the administrators, all the patients
…
the military was there and not allowing anyone to leave. Anybody that tried was gunned down in front of the exits. The bodies eventually piled so high yo
u couldn’t open the doors
.”

The waitress interrupted them to take Duncan’s order and he got a plate of sushi with a sparkling water.

“So,” he continued, “you have about two hundred people stuck in the same building, all of them except five shooting blood out of every
orifice
in their body.
Ebola
itself
doesn’t kill you; it causes you to bleed to death. But the blood that comes out of people doesn’t look the same as what you see when you get a cut. It’s black and it ha
s
the consistency of
coffee grounds.”

“Duncan,” Hank interrupted with a grin, “I’m sure the ladies don’t want to hear about that while we’re about to—”

“The blood doesn’t stop,” Duncan said, ignoring him as he took an edamame and peeled it. “It comes out of the eyes, the ears, the mouth. But the worst place
s
are
the genitals and anus. When you have a bowel movement the blood comes pouring out and doesn’t clot. It can actually take pieces of organ with it. The patients were
finding
long strands of a thick, gelatin substance
when they went
. I didn’t realize until later it was part of their colon
s
and intestines.”

Heather had stopped playing with her olive and had a look on her face like someone had just vomited in her purse.

“I have to use the restroom,” she said, standing.

“Me too,” Rebecca said as she followed her.

When the girls were gone, Hank threw his napkin and hit Duncan in the face. “What the hell are you doing? They’re in there right now talking about how to get out of this.”

“I never had a shot.
The blonde’s
still going to finish the date with you
,
though
.
I wouldn’t worry.”

“Well,
now you
really
don’t have a shot—
”

“She’s awful, Hank. She’s pretentious and feels life owes her something just for existing. Those are some of the most unpleasant people to be around.”

“And you can tell all that from
five minutes of conversation?”

“I could tell
as soon as
I said hello and she didn’t even look up from her drink.”

A couple walked by and the male did a
double-
take of Hank. He came over and said hello and asked if Hank remembered him from some engineering conference last year. He did, or at least said he did, and the
y
began speaking about people from the conference and what they’d been up to. Duncan could tell Hank
didn’t know
who any of the people were
,
but was keeping a grin on his face.

When the man left, Hank said, “I have no idea who that was or what conference he was talking about.”

“I don’t think he picked up on it.” Duncan sighed and put his elbows on the table. “I think I’m just gonna go.”

“What? No you’re not. Rebecca is Heather’s ride. If she leaves, Rebecca does too.”

“What’re you gonna do for me if I stay?”

“What do you want?”

“A new Xbox game.”

“You’re kidding.”

“We all have our weaknesses.”

“Fine, if you stay so I can score with Rebecca, I will buy you an Xbox game.”

Duncan smiled as the sushi was brought out. The waitress placed it down and asked if they needed anything else. It was another few minutes until the girls came back. Heather seemed in a much better mood and Duncan wondered what they had been doing in there. She was asking about his time in the Congo and Duncan glanced
over to Hank who tapped one side of his nose with his finger
and nodded.

Duncan was about to say something when his phone buzzed. It was a private number from the USAMRIID dispatch. Duncan had only received a call from that number once before, when he was still an intern in grad school, on September 11, 2001.

“This is Duncan
…
yes
…
yes
…
”

The phone nearly dropped out of his hand. He felt weak and his stomach was
queasy
. He looked down to the sushi and it suddenly made him feel sick.

“You okay?” Hank said. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I need to go,” Duncan said, standing up and nearly falling over his chair.

“What? Where you going?” Hank yelled as Duncan
made a beeline
for the front door.

“To Hawaii.”

CHAPTER 10

It was two o’clock in the morning when Samantha received the first call.

It was a nurse from Queen’s Medical. Sam didn’t get to the phone in time and the nurse left a message stating that Dr. J
erry Amoy had asked
that
she call him
. Six new patients had been admitted
,
exhibiting symptoms of the “UF”: the Unknown Flu. It was what the staff at the hospital had begun to call the disease because they had to call it something and
just
calling it a flu
made
it sound less toxic than it was. Even though Samantha knew that influenza was one of the worst serial killers of all time.

Just as she had rolled over and was going back to sleep, her phone rang again. It was a long distance number with an Atlanta area code.

“This is Dr. Bower.”

“Sam, glad I caught you. This is
Dr.
Pushkin
,
from the lab.”

Even though Sam had known him several years, Stephen preferred that everyone call him “Dr. Pushkin” rather than
Stephen
.

“Doctor, hi. What are you doing up
? I
t’s four in the morning there.”

“You haven’t spoken to Wilson yet?”

“No, why?”

“Sam, we received the results of the lab work. It’s black pox. It’s fucking black pox.”

Samantha sat quietly a while and stared at the floor. “Are you sure?” was all she managed to say.

“Yes. The symptomology matches the cultures. Wilson’s on his way down right now. He’s going to hold a press conferenc
e with a general or secretary of
something. The military’s involved now too.”

“Why?”

“You know damn well why. I don’t have time for silly questions. Shake the sleep off and call me back in ten minutes. I’m grabbing the next flight and need to talk to you about our next steps.”

Sam was down
to
her rental car in five minutes. The night sky was glittering with stars. It was clear in a way she had never really seen before
, as if a
wound had been torn open
in the sky
and she was allowed to look into the innards of space. Along with the stars were planets, lit up brightly like incandescent bulbs, and farther off, galaxies. Even with the hotel, the light pollution was so minimal it was like looking at the sky from the top of a mountain.

She drove down to Queen’s Medical and saw a news
van from Channel 4 parked out front.
S
everal
Jeeps
in basic green and two sedans were all parked illegally. Sam parked in employee parkin
g and walked
inside.

At the entrance to the Emergency Room an MP in uniform
was
checking IDs and turning people away, giving them directions to the Straub Clinic and Hospital. Sam pulled out her CDC identification card.

“One moment, ma’am.”

He checked with someone on the radio hooked to his shoulder and they gave the clearance for her to come in.

The hospital looked empty with the exception of the staff. Sam smiled to the receptionist and realized it was the same one from yesterday morning.

“They’re all in the conference room down the hall,” the nurse offered without being asked.

Sam made her way down and saw th
e news crew setting up. At least twenty
men
and women
were
meandering about
in both suits and military uniforms.
Bagels had been set out on the table with sodas and coffee. Only one man was sitting at the table. He was young with auburn hair and wearing a Depeche Mode
T
-shirt with canvas shorts and sandals. He looked more like a surfer than a doctor. Sam sat across from him and he glanced up and smiled as he spread cream cheese on his bagel.