The Ebola Wall (15 page)

It was also clear that Taylor and the people around him weren’t going to be persuaded from their course. At one point, exhausted and staring up at the ceiling, he understood. Anger swept through his system as he recalled being denied help and forced at gunpoint to enter what was most likely the pits of hell.

That rage soon passed, however. Yes, he’d been wronged to the extreme, but that didn’t justify the sort of actions the board and Taylor had initiated. For a moment, he wished he had arrived in Houston sooner, thinking he might have been a voice of reason as the colonel’s plot was being hatched.

No, his only real quandary ended up being what kind of work he wanted to do going forward. That simple. That straightforward. Despite Taylor’s high and mighty words about choice, he really didn’t have but one.

With still-bloodshot eyes, he found Elissa and the colonel the next morning, huddled over the latest results of the doctor’s work.

“Good morning, Captain,” the colonel greeted. “I take it you didn’t sleep well last night.”

“No, sir, I didn’t. But I have made a determination. No offense, sir, but I’ve had enough of the military lifestyle. I’ll be honest, my commitment to your cause would be half-hearted. After what the Army did to me, I can understand your position, but I still don’t believe unreservedly in what you’re doing.”

Taylor nodded, seeming to accept Norse’s words. “I appreciate honesty in a man, Captain… or should I say, Mr. Norse. If your heart’s not in it, I don’t want you with my men. The doctor will steer you toward another job. Best of luck.”

And with that, the colonel left, leaving a yawning Norse and Elissa alone.

“So, ex-warrior, what else can you do besides drive a tank?” she smiled.

“You seem awfully pleased that I haven’t swallowed your pitch - hook, line, and sinker,” he observed.

Her eyes dropped to the floor at his statement, Norse thinking he’d said something wrong. When she finally looked up, her words made the reaction all too clear. “I’m starting to care about you, Shane, and I’ve lost enough people who were close to me. The fact that you’ve decided not to go gallivanting around, playing soldier with the colonel means you’ll be safe somewhere else. I like that.”

Relieved, Shane’s grin filled his face. “So, what other type of work is there available? I do want to pull my own weight.”

“What do you like to do?”

Putting a finger to his chin, Norse pretended to ponder the question long and hard. Acting like he had been struck with eureka-type inspiration, he announced, “I’d like to work here with you!”

Expecting only a polite laugh and quick dismissal, Elissa’s reaction surprised him. “Hmmm. We do have some openings in records. Are you an organized person?”

Norse’s back stiffened to attention, “Ma’am! I am a graduate of the West Point Military Academy, ma’am! I am one of the most organized bastards you’ll ever lay eyes on, ma’am!”

Elissa snorted, trying desperately to contain her laughter. She lost the fight.

After they both had settled down, the doctor examined her desk and found a piece of paper stored there. “Yes… yes, we have a spot open in records. You’ll be in charge of filing test results, patient profiles, and other assorted data generated by our operation. Do you want the job?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good,” Elissa beamed. “Your office will be right across the hall. Come on, I’ll show you to your new slave quarters. And remember, I’m your worst nightmare as a boss.”

Chapter 7

Shane’s days were essentially divided into two different worlds. In the mornings, he reported for work and kept himself busy until lunch, which he almost always spent with Elissa. Relishing their time together was the highlight of his day, the pair soon forming a bond unlike anything either had ever felt for another person.

For the first time in his life, the captain found the carefree, low-stress lifestyle refreshing. Not only did he not miss the burden of command and the ritual of military life, he experienced a sense of gratification from working in the medical field. He was helping others, even if it were in a non-direct way.

His daily joy, however, was soon displaced by the late afternoon, daily status meetings. Elissa was required to join all of the scheduled sessions, most of the conferences attended by various members of the board, including Colonel Taylor.

Filled with status updates, facts and figures, and the general progress of the Gulf Republic’s strategy to change the world, Shane often found himself deeply saddened by the bedlam unleashed by the people surrounding him. For Elissa’s sake, he kept his feelings to himself.

The virus, it seemed, wasn’t the primary cause of the planet’s initial woes – human nature firmly accepting the crown of chaos and disruption before Ebola-B could sink its deadly teeth into the population.

As the board monitored newscasts from around the world, the scenes were horrifying to Norse. Fueled by desperation and a sense of having little to lose, old enemies seized the opportunity to take out their frustrations on each other. Militaries, all over the planet, were marshaling at best, waging outright war at worst.

Armed protestors, violent rallies, marches, and complete anarchy also dominated the headlines. As Norse sat silently and watched, it dawned on him that the entire species of man was tearing itself apart.

Shane took it all in without comment, each afternoon tribunal filling his soul with deep, bitter remorse.

The situation was worsened by the reaction of the people around him. There seemed to be an air of celebration as the residents of Houston watched society drop off the cliff. Images that made Shane melancholy and depressed seemed to lighten the mood of his neighbors. It was almost as if everyone were savoring some sort of high school-ish orgy of revenge.

When the torturous briefings were concluded, Elissa and he would spend their evenings together, her company allowing him to unwind and get back to loving life. It was a difficult dichotomy to handle.

As the reports of the first deaths attributed to the virus first came in, the population of the Gulf Republic wanted to party. The atmosphere reminded Shane of tailgating before a major football game. He found the entire reaction sickening.

His discomfort was further enhanced when one of the broadcasts showed images of his old unit, the emblem of the 7
^th
Cav clearly displayed on the shoulder of Ebola-B’s first military victim. According to the report, the virus was conducting a full-blown assault on several divisions within the U.S. Army. Shane’s heart sank into his stomach.

Ad hoc gatherings appeared out of nowhere, thousands of people grouping together to share food and stories, and comment on the payback their tiny country had delivered to the bullies of the world. It was all too much for the ex-soldier.

Elissa wanted to participate, but understood his hesitation. “I’m going to head on back to the apartment,” he stated. “You go ahead and enjoy the festivities, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

As he trudged home, it occurred to Norse that he’d left his briefcase at the lab. That wasn’t especially troubling, the detour taking him only a few blocks out of his way. The extra steps in the fresh air would help to clear his head.

He entered the building, passing the bored security personnel who barely bothered to check his badge. As he approached his cubicle, he thought he heard a noise in Elissa’s lab.

He entered the normally-locked area, finding everything where it should be. As he looked around for the source of the disturbance, he noticed a set of stainless steel, pressurized tubes sitting on the counter. Purely curious, he sauntered over and examined the sophisticated looking storage devices.

Picking up one of the containers, he read the label and then the associated paperwork sitting nearby on the counter. “So that’s what the secret sauce looks like,” he whispered. “I’ve been here almost a week, and this is the first time I’ve seen the actual vaccine.”

As Shane set the sturdy container down, it occurred to him that the future of the entire planet was in his hand. Not only was the primary vaccine present, another tube claimed to hold the booster. The papers clearly documented the process used to create the serums.

“Funny, you don’t look like the most important discovery in the history of mankind,” he said to the tube. The irony wasn’t lost on Norse – he was holding the most valuable item ever created.

Vast fortunes would be paid if he wanted to sell the container in his hand. Untold riches could be his.

Shane’s mind replayed the last outside newscast he’d just seen, his thoughts wandering back to the men he had commanded, their families and relatives.

And then an idea occurred to the troubled soul. He could fix all of this – it was within his power to make a change.

Lieutenant Thompson scanned his new operational orders, a pained expression forming on his face. “Sir, I need a clarification on these patrol instructions.”

“What’s the problem, LT? I think it’s clear enough. Instead of maintaining a fixed position on the wall, your unit is hereby ordered to conduct a moving patrol covering exits 4 through 6. Pretend you’re running a NASCAR race, Thompson. Just go out and run ‘Bama Thunder around in a loop,” replied the frustrated Major.

“Yes, sir, I get that part. But what is to keep Skinnies from sneaking over the wall behind our backs? There’s no way we can maintain a two-mile perimeter with one tank.”

For a moment, Thompson thought he was going to get his ass chewed. Since Ebola-B had made its way outside of the quarantine, all of the senior officers had displayed short tempers. Instead, his new commanding officer exhaled audibly and then softened his voice to a low whisper. “Lieutenant, over 30% of our people are either in the hospital tents with symptoms of Ebola-B, on emergency leave back home to take care of sick family, or have deserted. We no longer have the capacity to maintain the wall using previous methods.”

Thompson was only mildly surprised, the scuttlebutt and rumors had been circulating for the last two days. “Yes, sir. How bad is it across the country?”

The senior officer was reluctant, clearly unsure of what, or how much to tell his charge. Finally, almost as if relieved to have someone to talk to, he confessed. “Not good, Thompson… not good at all. I overheard a conversation at division yesterday that just scared the shit out of me. So far, there are over 20 million confirmed cases, and that’s just what the feds are admitting to. I would surmise the number is a lot higher and growing by the minute. This damn bug is all over the place and spreading quickly.”

“Oh fuck,” replied the younger man. “So fast?”

“Yes, so fast. People haven’t started dying yet, but that will come soon. There have already been food riots all over the planet. There have been violent upheavals and social unrest in every country. India nuked Islamabad and three other Pakistani cities yesterday. Russia and China are marshaling huge armies along their common border. North Korea sent 10,000 tanks south toward Seoul; no word on how our guys and the South Korean forces are holding up. The world has gone absolutely insane.”

“Then what are we still doing here, sir? I sure would like to get back to Fort Hood and be with my family.”

“That’s a good question, son. I know how you feel, but there’s still talk of our sending forces inside the wall to see if we can retrieve the cure… or some formula… or something that will bail us out of this mess. I even heard a rumor that Delta was being brought in from Fort Bragg. There’s speculation they will be inserted for a black op to obtain the serum.”

Thompson shook his head, “The people running the show inside that wall been one step ahead of us all the way, Major. They’ll be ready for that.”

“I agree, Lieutenant, but all that is above our pay grade. For right now, we follow orders and do what we can. You just focus on doing your job and keeping your men safe. That’s the best I can offer. Dismissed.”  

The junior officer saluted smartly and then walked away, barely managing to keep his emotions in check. All of a sudden, his problems seemed so miniscule compared to what was going on out in the world. He thought about his parents and siblings, wondering how they were doing. Grim images began to fill his mind – visions of his sister and mother wallowing in their own blood and puke, suffering horrendous pain while slowly dying.

Eventually his training kicked in, forcing him to push aside personal and planetary concerns. He sucked it up, putting on a good face for his crew.
No sense worrying them
, he thought.
There’s not shit any of us can do. Do the job. Just do the job,
he kept repeating
.

It wasn’t going to be easy. Not only was Thunder short a crewman, now his area of responsibility was nearly ten times larger than before.

The men were lined up next to the hulking outline of Thunder, assembled for the now-mandatory fever check. Witnessed by the commanding officer, each crewman was required to use a thermometer before leaving on patrol.

One by one, Thompson watched his men insert the device in their ears and depress the button. After a few seconds, a beep would sound, followed by the lieutenant checking the digital display.