Sealed In (15 page)

Andy reached out and grabbed her wrists. “It’s n … not over.”

“Not yet,” Emma said. “This is the big one, Andy. People always think I’m crazy with this end of the world shit, but this is the big one. It took a town, now Lincoln is under. You said you called Bob in Mead; they have it there.” She shook her head. “Heather called me in the morning and she was sick. She went to Billings the night before. Now ... either she caught it in Billings, or she was sick when she went. In either case, it’s in Billings. Yeah … we may be fine for now. We may even be able to outrun it. Stay ahead of it. But eventually, it will catch us when we have nowhere else to run.”

“May … may be-be a cure?”

“Maybe,” Emma said. “But it could be too late. I bet in a week the West Coast is down. If it is in Billings, it’s made it out of Billings. Someone took it elsewhere.” She winced as if in pain. “Planes. One plane ride. But …” she sighed. “It doesn’t matter. I always thought it would. I always thought I’d care, that I’d want to survive. But honestly … my daughter is dying, if not already gone.”

“Cody … n-needs you.”

“What kind of life would it be?”

“What … ev … ever you m … make it for her. R-Richie is not s-sick.”

Emma nodded. Her eyes lifted when a light from outside flashed. She stood and turned to the window. “Headlights?”

Andy stood and joined Emma at the window. The vehicle began to back from the driveway, flicking its lights. Andy and Emma rushed to the front door. As soon as they opened it, a squeal of feedback rang out in the dead silent dark.

Then they heard Stew’s weak voice. “We’re heading to the main house,” he said over the speaker. “I’ll park out front. Dress warm and wear gloves and masks. We’ll be in the car. You can’t touch us. You can get near the car.” Pause. “It’s time to say goodbye.”

The car backed up and pulled away.

They rushed. They moved as fast as they could to pull on coats and hats, and scarves to cover their mouths. Emma understood she couldn’t hold her daughter or even touch her, kiss her, but she could see her. She could see her daughter and father. It was a gift. A sad one, but still a gift.

They took Andy’s truck up the road to Stew’s house. The police car parked sideways out front with the lights blinking.

Cody was half-asleep in Emma’s arms; she opened the door and stepped out with Andy. She could see the two figures in the car as she walked closer. She lost every bit of her breath and clutched Cody tighter when she saw her father and Heather. Her dad looked bad, really bad, but Heather
… It crushed Emma to see her, and she felt her heart squeeze in pain as she ached out a cry that echoed in the night, a cry of pain that only a mother could make.

Her daughter. Her poor, sweet little girl, a child that Emma tried to protect yet at that moment was unable to help her at all.

“Hey,” Stew spoke through the speaker. “We don’t have much time. Heather … she doesn’t have much time. I’m glad we made it. We had to see you. I ...I had to see you, Em.”

Another whimper slipped from Emma as she walked closer to the car. Heather leaned against the window, her eyes closed. Then Heather opened her eyes. When she did, it was as if the girl had renewed strength. Her hand lifted to the window and Heather burst into tears as her fingers scraped the glass as if to feel Cody.

“My baby.” Heather’s muffled words carried from the car. “Cody, Mommy loves you. I love you. Mom, I’m sorry.”

“No. No.” Emma shook her head. “Why are you sorry?”

“For putting you through this.” Heather’s shoulders bounced as she cried, then her head went back as she breathed heavily.

Stew extended the microphone to Heather.

Squeal.

“Mommy, protect my baby. Please. Protect my baby. I love you.”

Emma handed the baby to Andy and raced to the car; she dropped to her knees and put her hand on the window. “Heather. Honey, I love you, baby. I wish I could touch you. Hold you. Take it away.”

“It’s okay.” Heather turned her body and put her hand back on the window. She held it there.

Emma raised her hand to meet Heather’s against that window.

“Emma,” Stew said, his words breathy and weak. “I am so proud of you. Please know that. I have always been …. Always been proud of you. I … I love you.” He dropped the microphone and after a squeal, Stew turned in toward Heather placing his hand on the glass as well, next to
hers.

Emma positioned her hand between theirs, wishing with all her might she could touch them, hold them. It was without a doubt her goodbye to her father and her child.

Then Heather’s hand slid down the window, and her head dropped to the side.

“No.” Emma pounded on the window. “Heather. Heather.” She smacked the glass. “No!” She sobbed loudly as she watched her father grab and hold Heather, his strong body bouncing in his own anguish.

With his free hand, Stew grabbed the microphone. “Go home, Emma. Be safe. Now. Andy, take them. I need to get in the house.”

Emma cried out repeatedly as Andy grabbed hold of her.

“Cody … d … doesn’t need this.” Andy told her. “Come. I’m s… so … sorry.”

Emma, despite her efforts to stay, was pulled back. She finally gave in and got into Andy’s truck.

“Gam? Mommy?” Cody asked groggily. “Mommy?”

“Mommy’s with Pap.” Emma kissed Cody. Her tears fell, saturating her face. Her soul was weak; she could barely breathe, her emotions were so thick.

Andy got into the truck as well.

He put the truck in gear and started to back up.

“Wait.” Emma grabbed his arm. “Let me watch them go in the house. Please?”

Andy stopped the truck and nodded.

Emma watched as Stew stepped from the car. She gave seeped a cry at the way he walked and moved. Stew opened the passenger door, reached in, and awkwardly lifted Heather with an apparent struggle. Emma realized her error in asking to stay, when Stew toppled to the ground and Andy whipped open the door.

“Andy?” Emma called his name.

Andy shut the door, paused, leaned forward, kissed Cody, and then placed his hand on Emma’s cheek. “I love you.” He placed his lips softly to hers. “Be strong.”

Before Emma could comprehend why he was saying it, the truck door opened, Andy stepped out, and closed the door.

He took two steps, faced Emma, lifted his hand in a wave, then turned around and rushed to Stew.

It was at that very second, watching Andy help her father that Emma knew that she didn’t just say goodbye to her father and child, she had just said goodbye to Andy, as well.

For the first time in hours, Edward decontaminated and sat in his special office in the lab, an environmentally controlled area that he felt was safe from any ‘Hartworth’ air. His eyes shifted to the activity outside the lab. He monitored it through the computer screen while speaking to Bill Lange on the speakerphone.

He knew he’d have to get suited up again. However, first he needed coffee. The eight hours there seemed like days.

“
The Secretary of State has already been in contact with the Soviet Prime Minister,” Lange said. “They’re working with the Soviet Weapons Commission to see if this is theirs.”

Edward scoffed a tired laugh. “Of course it’s theirs. Christ. Dr. Paltrov, whatever his real name is, came from there. He worked there, constantly communicated with them.”

“I know. But it isn’t our job to accuse the Soviet Union of withholding information or covering it up.”

“They must not know, or they think it was destroyed,” Edward suggested. “Who in the hell would allow humanity to get devastated by a virus if they could stop it?”

“Maybe they can’t,” Lange suggested. “Maybe the only one who could shot himself in the head.”

Edward grumbled.

“Ed, we have to start working on this stat, you know it. If there was a higher level than level four, this would be it. This is a lockdown project.”

“I know.”

“Probability is high, Ed, that these cases in Billings are EPV-71.”

“I know they are, especially after seeing those concert tickets,” Edward said. “I knew we’d get reports after that bulletin, but I didn’t expect it so fast.”

“The reports were in before the bulletin, they were just in queue with every other health incident that gets reported. They weren’t flagged until we looked.”

Edward sighed. “I’m wrapped up in this town. How many now?”

“Ninety-one cases, thirty deaths in Billings. Numbers are gonna grow. That’s not including the five in Seattle.”

“So all the trouble this guy went through to seal this town was in vain. We could have been brought in days ago.”

“Yep,” Lange replied. “But could we have stopped it?”

“I don’t know if anything can stop this. I don’t even want to think about three days from now.”

“I already have Walker on this. Hopefully, he’ll crack it soon.”

Edward nodded, not as if Lange could see him. He then noticed someone waving to the camera. He turned up the volume.

“Dr. Neil!” The worker called through his suit. “You have to see this. We are locking it on now.”

“Be right out
,” Edward said, then turned his attention back to the phone. “Bill, I have to call you back. They found something.”

He ended the call and looked at the computer one more time. He watched crew workers car
rying a long tube, a large flexible tube, not easily maneuvered. It was a safe way, a walkway from one safe area to the next.

Edward suited up and left the lab. The safe way was already sealed to a CDC mobile truck, sealed to the airtight compartment. The other end of the tubing was closed tight until it was locked in or latched to its destination.

The truck was parked outside of the police station.

When Edward arrived, the crews already had the tubing inside and down the basement door. He couldn’t get through.

“What’s going on?” Edward asked.

“We were combing,” a worker said. “We went downstairs to the holding area and noticed a door was shut to the holding cells. When we looked through, we saw a survivor. Not sick. We didn’t want to chance opening that door in case it kept out the germ. We’re almost hooked up. We have someone suited up down there.”

“Walk them through to the truck?” Edward asked.

“Yes, sir. Getting the bubble ready. He’ll walk right into that.”

“Good. Good,” Edward said with a swat to the worker’s back. “He or she survived this long, let’s keep them safe as possible. Better yet, maybe they’re immune.”

The prospect of a survivor in the dead town renewed Edward’s hope. If the individual was immune, then others would be, too, and the odds of defeating EBV-71 grew.

He headed from the police station to the truck and waited inside.

The survivor would walk straight up the ramp, through the tube, into a plastic cage, a protective bubble with its own air supply.

Edward anxiously awaited the survivor.

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“
‘Patient seems to be in fair condition,”
Edward noted in his computer, notes that he would send directly to the CDC. “
He is slightly lethargic and fades in and out of a conscious state. He exhibits signs of confusion. This is attributed to hypothermia and dehydration. He shows no outward sign of the virus but does have an insignificant flesh wound on the lumbar region. Patient claims it is a gunshot wound and a safety/survival belt prohibited the penetration of the bullet. It is noted that Doctor Monroe did find a large belt in the holding cell. It is difficult to fully assess the patient because of protective surroundings. Patient claims he tended to the wound and has been in the holding area of the police station for six days. He has eaten, but states it became difficult to swallow once his water supply had finished. Observation and testing is recommended.”

Edward finished his notes, hit send, and stood. He turned to the protective bubble. The man inside sat against the wall, his knees brought close. “Mr. Lewiskowski.”

He lifted his head. “Del. Just … call me Del.”

“Del. This is where I’ll leave you for now. I apologize for the protective room, but it’s needed. We don’t know if you were exposed to or were shielded from the virus. However, we are transporting you now. Give us a few hours and I promise to make you more comfortable.”

“Where am I going?”

“Atlanta, to our facility there. It is best.”

Del’s head lifted. “Atlanta? I’m not sick. Just … just been in that cell too long.”

“Yes, well, you happened to also be the only person left alive in Hartworth.”

Immediately, Del’s head dropped to his knees and his arms wrapped around his legs. He released a quiet sob.

“Are you all right?” Edward asked.