The Unraveling: Book 1 of the Bound to Survive Series

by Charley Hogwood

  The four yellow-dressed aliens had squeezed into the room and circled around the bed, not for any particular reason other than there was just not much space to stand anywhere else. Mrs. Evans pleaded with her husband to save her, she did not want to go anywhere.

  “You don’t have to go anywhere darling, just rest and I’ll stay right here with you.” He tried to be soothing, but she didn’t seem to be aware of him anymore. Suddenly, her now bulging eyes appeared to focus on something not in the room, and she began to convulse. As her husband held her face, she vomited a green, bloody bile on both of them.

  Janet, a nurse and one of the medical team, grabbed and pulled Mr. Evans away but it was too late, he was already covered in bloody vomit. Eddie, one of the team members and a doctor, stepped in to quickly roll her onto her side in the classic recovery position, in an effort to prevent her from aspirating the vomit into her lungs, but it would be a futile attempt. Mrs. Evans’ agonized breaths ceased as the retching and choking took the last signs of life from her. The whole process took less than a minute. In shock, her husband fell to the floor, head in hands, despair upon him, eyes wet with tears. He didn’t know what to do, to scream or to weep.

  The team looked at each other in disbelief at what had just happened. They had only been in the room for two minutes, and this was their first experience with one of these patients in their last moments. It wasn’t pretty, and only imparted a sense of hopelessness to everyone involved. The fact that this was a happily married elderly couple, who could have been any one of their grandparents, made the scene almost unbearable. At that moment, they were unable to do much more than secure the scene, clean up Mr. Evans, and take his wife’s body to the morgue. The team leader knew he needed to get the team back to work before they could dwell too long on the moment.

  “Eddie, we need to prepare her for transport and we also need some biohazard bags for the linens, please. Jim, once everything is bagged, the rooms will all need to be sprayed. Janet, would you mind taking Mr. Evans to the other room please, and help him get cleaned up and put a suit and mask on him? He will need to be decontaminated and transported to the hospital for evaluation.”

  The leader of the medical team finished handing out the tasks, and looked around the older couple’s bedroom, trying to avoid making this personal. He knew the weight of this work would crush him and his team if they allowed too much of a connection to the people they would come into contact with.

  “Mr. Evans,” Janet said, “I’m very sorry for your loss. There was nothing that anyone could have done. We will take very good care of your wife, I promise. Can we see if we can get you cleaned up in the other room? Do you have a clean shirt handy?”

  A little more compassion might have helped Mr. Evans, he was catatonic with despair, so the team didn’t recognize the level of threat he would come to present.

  A few minutes later, Eddie and Jim returned from the van pushing a gurney that had a black body bag squarely folded on top of a white bed sheet. Jim was wearing a backpack sprayer, similar to something one would expect to see on a landscaper. Rolling the gurney down the narrow hall of the old house while dressed in the bulky gear was a challenge, but the many pictures lining the walls made the effort more like playing the old board game “Operation.”

  Brianne Evans had loved her collection of family photos, especially the ones of her children and grandchildren. They were all grown now, and had lives of their own in other places. She had made her husband hang the framed images in the hall so she could see them each morning and on her way to bed in the evening.

  Chris Evans was being tended to by Janet, the only female member on the medical team today. Janet had him in the kitchen just off the hallway and was working with him to remove the shirt, now soaked with his wife’s bodily fluids. As she placed the doffed garments into a red plastic bag with a biohazard symbol, Mr. Evans was stretching his arms into a clean shirt. A bump and a crash resonated in the hallway, with a barely audible curse word muffled by the mask on one of the men’s faces. The noise caught Mr. Evans’ attention very quickly, and he knew immediately that several pictures had fallen to the floor and broken.

  “My sprayer caught them as I was working the gurney. Who has so many pictures in a hallway?” Jim said coarsely. “It’s a fire hazard.”

  Jim’s discomfort in the hot suit and the cramped quarters caused him to complain. Jim didn’t realize the man whose wife cherished those pictures was beginning to focus the anger of his loss on the intruders who, in his mind, had forced their way into his, no, their, house.

  “Mr. Evans,” Janet was trying to get his attention, “Mr. Evans, may I get some information regarding your wife’s travels over the last few days please?” Not listening to her now, he was preoccupied with the yellow-suited men who had just broken his wife’s prized possessions. The man who bumped the wall was now sliding the broken frames out of the way with his big yellow boots while the other men had begun trying to stuff Mr. Evans’ beloved wife into the bag with a long zipper.

  “Mr. Evans, sir?” He turned around and looked at Janet as if she had no business talking to him. No one else was in the room at the moment but him and her. The electronic tablet she was using alerted a low battery message at this very inconvenient time, and she turned her back to him to pull a portable charger from her small shoulder pack.

  Chris Evans had had enough of this intrusion, and he could feel his anger beginning to boil over. To his right, on the kitchen wall, was a magnetic knife rack with a number of larger kitchen knives suspended on it. Mr. Evans was no longer the nice old man who meticulously maintained his lawn and washed the cars on Saturday morning, he was somewhere else in his mind. The pressure of trying to care for his wife over the last week had weighed heavily on him. In the very back of his mind, he had worried that she would not recover from whatever illness she had, and that expectation, coupled with her violent death, brewed a lethal mixture of fear and anger. It was the anger that was taking control now.

  Without any warning, he reached over and lifted the longest blade from the rack with light clink. Janet never saw it coming: the sharp edge thrust up through her chin as she turned toward him to continue her work. Her mouth was permanently pinned shut and her brain quickly went offline. No one noticed what had just transpired in the kitchen and Mr. Evans eased her down onto the dining room chair. He might have been older in his years, but he still had the wiry strength of a man half his age.

  Jim and Eddie pushed the gurney with the large black bag strapped down with seat belts down the hall toward the front door. The sound of crunching glass under the wheels in the hallway made everyone uncomfortable and it took what felt like forever to make it to the door. The two men tried to maneuver the gurney through the front door, but the drop over the threshold jiggled the now cooling body in the bag, and they almost lost her over the side. This was simply too much for Mr. Evans to accept. No one noticed as the old man stepped purposely from the front door, white knuckling a large turkey-carving knife with a long slender point, eyes narrowed, target locked. Leaning into the thrust, he lunged at the first gurney-pusher he could reach; it was Jim.

  Seeing the threat a moment too late, the rookie cop reacted. He drew his pistol, took rapid aim, and screamed through his protective mask for the old man to stop. The muffled scream had no effect on the man’s determination. The long, shiny blade briefly reflected the sun as it slid deeply and effortlessly into the yellow-suited man at the same time the shots rang out. Mr. Evans crumpled to the ground from the bullets striking his pelvic girdle, still grasping the long knife that slid out just as easily as it had gone in.

  The medic took a stumble, completely unaware of what had just happened. He let go of the gurney and walked a few steps, trying to figure out why he felt so lightheaded, “It’s hot out here, I don’t feel so well…” he muttered in a nauseated tone. Then he fell. The knife had lacerated his kidney and no act of man could save him now.

  Charlotte, still looking through her d
ining room window, watched it all unfold in what felt like the longest minutes of her life. She screamed behind the double-paned eco glass, but like a fish in an aquarium, no one heard her except the baby.

  Baby Tempest was on the floor playing with a doll, and was startled and began to cry at her mom’s scream. Charlotte picked the baby up, trying to find some way to console her, but after what she just saw, how could she? She herself was an emotional wreck. Witnessing her neighbor go on a murderous rampage against a team of doctors dressed like something out of a movie in the front yard, what was happening? Did she really just see that?!

  The world had changed in just a few days. Only last week the neighbors were chatting at the mailbox about the mild winter in South Florida and now Mrs. Evans was in a body bag sitting on a gurney in the driveway, and two people were lying dead in the yard from a murderous assault. Charlotte didn’t even know about Janet’s body, still slumped over the Evans’ kitchen table.

  In a way, perhaps, she had tried to ignore the new reality that Cal and the group were preparing for recently. But now she could no longer pretend the world would be ok, just as it always had been. She sat down on the floor in the dining room with the baby to the sound of sirens approaching in the distance. In that odd juxtaposition between one person’s dire reality and another’s total oblivion to their surroundings, baby Tempest looked at her mom and made the sign for “I’m hungry” between post-crying sniffles.

  Charlotte couldn’t help but smile, but then she realized that she needed to get up, get moving, and do something other than sit on the floor and sob. She immediately called Cal.

  “Cal I need you to come home.”

  “What’s wrong, love?” Cal was immediately at attention, it was unusual for Charlotte to make such a request.

  Charlotte explained what she just witnessed in their neighbor’s yard.

  “Oh my God!” Cal said, “That’s insane! Are you and the baby ok?! I’ll be home in a few minutes.” He hung up and ran to find his project superintendent, Dave.

  “Dave, come with me.” Cal hurriedly explained that he had to get home right away, but it was important that the crews keep working to get the north wing open for the stream of incoming patients.

  “We need to have these rooms ready for people to move in by close of business today. Do not worry about the fit and finish details, we don’t need paint and wallpaper. Don’t even worry about laying the VCT flooring. Just make sure the medical gases and suctions work, and that there are lights in every room. The low voltage crews are working their way down the hall right behind the electricians. I need your crews out of the way before they catch up. They will be reinstalling all the patient telemetry for the nurse’s station, and Fred down in the Engineering Department is waiting on us so he can send all the beds back up from storage. Keep everyone here as long as you need, don’t worry about overtime, we’ll pay it.” Dave perked up slightly upon hearing that.

  “If I can’t get back before you are done, send everyone home and we will call them later about tomorrow’s schedule. Oh, and make sure they wash their hands and keep their masks on all day.”

  “They are complaining it is too hot to wear the masks, and I keep on ‘em, but it’s like herding cats,” Dave replied.

  Cal pressed the issue, “I don’t want to scare them, but make sure they are aware that this is serious, and that if they don’t keep their masks on, they might be sleeping in one of these rooms we are rushing to get open.” One of the workers heard Cal’s rant, made a disgusted face at the thought, and pulled his mask a little tighter.

  Cal quickly rolled down his street to see several police cars with lights flashing and yellow tape strung up around his neighbor’s yard. There was no sign of the gurney with Mrs. Evans, but there were two yellow sheets in the yard covering what appeared to be bodies. He pulled into his driveway and hurried into the house.

  Charlotte was standing in the living room holding the baby, eyes glued to the TV, watching the news. She heard Cal open the front door and almost ran to meet him for a group hug as he entered the room. She’s never like this, he thought. He knew he would have to tread lightly this time.

  “How are you holding up?” he asked carefully.

  “I’m not ok,” she said, sobbing. “What happened out there was a lot more than I expected to ever see. It totally caught me off guard. Chris killed that man in the yellow suit and the cop shot him right there in the yard.”

  “I wish I knew what to say. I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said as he held her.

  “What are we going to do?” she asked. “The news is saying that people are dying everywhere, even here. I’m afraid for us, for Amber, for the baby. I don’t know if we should lock ourselves in the house and never leave, or if we should pack our bags and run somewhere far away…”

  Cal let her get the thoughts out before he answered. Usually, he found himself interrupting her when she was trying to get her feelings sorted out, and it never ended well. When he was certain she was done speaking he tried to find something reassuring to say.

  “We will get through this together. Remember, we’re a team and there is no one I would rather be with when things get tough. You are the best wife and partner a guy could have and we complement each other well; you make up the more sensible part of the relationship but I can lift heavy stuff and light things on fire.” He tried some light humor to get her to feel better. She couldn’t resist his efforts to make her laugh.

  “You’re ridiculous, you know that? At least this time your humor is somewhat well placed, not like your usual lack of timing,” she said, running her hand across her face trying to wipe the tears. His ridiculousness has helped her through a lot of hard times because she knew he was sincere and he really did try. They moved over to the kitchen to sit down.

  “I have always supported your ideas, even when I wasn’t 100% convinced they were necessary, like this prepping thing. I figured eh, ok, sure, it would be good to have some backup adults if we needed help, and you know I never say no to extra snacks in the house, but I never, in my worst nightmares, thought something like this was even possible. I mean, don’t we have people to make sure these things never happen here? I don’t even like scary movies. This is like a real life scary movie and I’m not sure how to deal with that. I mean, what can you do when people become unpredictable? What are we supposed to do when shit is going down ACROSS THE STREET. This isn’t some third-world war-torn country, we’re not in some cheap rat-infested apartment on the wrong side of the tracks, for the love of god we’re homeowners in a nice neighborhood!” Charlotte lamented, throwing her hands up into the air.

  “All we can do is plan for what we know, maybe have some contingencies for the unknown and stay as aware of our surroundings as much as possible. Be quick, be sure, and be safe.” Cal sought to say something helpful, but he wasn’t sure it was working out. He was starting to sound like a bad office motivational poster. Charlotte took a deep breath before responding; she needed to gather herself before she admitted her next thoughts out loud.

  “I love you honey, you are right and we really are a team. More than that, I trust you. As much as it pains me to say it, you were right. Stop fist pumping and listen to me. I know that if we stay together, we’ll get through this. From now on, I am completely onboard. Let’s get in front of whatever…THIS…is. I’m not going to be caught off-guard again. I will not have my family at risk, not a one of you,” Charlotte said.

  “The good news,” Cal added, “is that we’re already well underway.” He reached over and pulled her in for a hug, he knew that she needed that physical reassurance to move forward. Just when she thought she had calmed down from the whole ordeal, Baby Tempest saw them too close to each other and screamed in her loudest voice, as she always did when her parents got too close.

  “Faffles! Faffles nummy!” said Tempest.

  “Seriously, kid?” her dad said in all exasperation. Charlotte started laughing as she made her way to the freezer for som
e waffles.

  “Sweetheart, I’m going to go see what’s happening out there if you are ok for a few minutes. I just want to try and get more info.” Cal said.

  “Be careful, I don’t want you to catch whatever this thing is. Wear gloves. And a mask. I’m going to put some hand sanitizer by the door for when you…”

  “I’ll be very careful, I just want to ask a couple questions. I promise I’ll be back in 5.”

  Opening the door and slowly walking down the driveway, Cal decided to approach one of the officers in the street who seemed to be doing more supervising than working. He wasn’t wearing any protective gear, but was all decked out in olive drab fatigues, tactical chest rig, and drop-leg holster.

  “Hey there, sir. I’m Cal. I live across the street. Unfortunately, my wife was home earlier when all this went down, so she’s a little shaken. Can you tell me anything about what happened?”

  “There is not much for me to tell you except we are now in a state of emergency and these medical teams have been deployed to do welfare checks,” he said, using a slightly drawn out version of the words “welfare check,” as if he were speaking in italics.

  “Where are they from?” Cal asked.

  “Health Department, and some are CDC Strike Teams called… Edi? Epi? Something like that.”

  “Strike teams? Reminds me of when I was stationed in Germany.”

  “You were in the service?”