Pestilence Boxed Set [Books 1 & 2]

by Craig McDonough

  “That last conversation you had with him sounded pretty heated.”

  She raised her eyebrows, and stared Tilford in the eye: “If I had been within arms’ reach, I would have killed him with my bare hands, I can promise you that.”

  “But he saved our lives. He gave us the combination to the office. If he didn’t—”

  “Yes, I know, Beth, I know. But it’s the things you don’t know about Moya, which I’d gladly killed him for.”

  “Care to elaborate?” Tilford’s eyes showed an apprehension usually reserved for when meeting people that express violent tendencies; this was just such an occasion.

  “I’d heard a lot about Moya over the years, about his idealism and beliefs. When I started with the CDC, I met him on one occasion, briefly at an overseas conference, but I didn’t have time to find out his real views. But when I spoke with him just before we began the vaccinations here at Riverside Hospital, I was shocked to discover he was now a consultant and advisor with Thorn Bio-Tech.” When no one showed any recognition of the name she pressed on. “That’s the giant pharmaceutical company and the very company that is marketing the vaccine. Thorn was given the green light without any testing by the FDA and the CDC. Even Director Calgleef gave the president a glowing report on the man who controls the company, Noel Thorncroft, as well as the company’s good name.”

  “So he’s now a consultant with the pharma company, what’s the big deal? Doctors do that all the time, don’t they? It’s no reason to want to kill him, is it?” It was more an accusation from Sanders than a question.

  Grace felt the claws come out. Sanders could have asked her question without any need to mention about killing anyone.

  “Thorn Bio-Tech manufactured the vaccine we’ve been using today. In the nearly twelve months that this, this pestilence has swept across Europe, there’s been not a single mention of a vaccine from Thorn or any company. Now, as soon as the United States talks of vaccinating its citizens against the flu… well, it magically appears.”

  “I’m still not seeing the full picture.” Tilford was open as he was honest.

  “Money, that’s the full picture. The Internet is full of inferences that Thorn—and other big pharma companies—don’t make vaccines that actually work. There’s no profit in that. Instead they manage it, hide it or treat the symptom or scare you into believing you must take X or Y to stave off the virus in question. This of course will require continual doses at regular intervals, usually twelve months. There are even rumors big pharma actually spreads the diseases in the first place if not even develop them—”

  “What? That’s preposterous! How can you of all people claim such nonsense?” It was obvious to everyone where Sanders stood on the matter. “That’s conspiracy theory bullshit!”

  “That’s what I used to think, and as a senior member of the CDC, I had the opportunity to run tests on vaccines. They all came up positive as vaccines, nothing abnormal about them. But the rumor is that big pharma only provides these grade A vaccines to the relevant authorities for testing—but these aren’t the ones that are made available to the public.” Grace did her best to sound knowledgeable on the subject but kept it at a base level, she was dealing with nurses—good nurses—and a first year doctor, not immunologists. “When you look at certain diseases and afflictions, even though we’ve supposedly had vaccines to combat them, they’ve actually risen rather than declined. At the same time, the rate of vaccinations is now at an all-time high. I now believe there is a correlation between the two, yes. This new vaccine, which just appeared overnight practically, didn’t have to go through the usual procedures and tests. It was given the green light by the president on advice from Calgleef from the Center for Disease Control and others in high standing. You’ve witnessed firsthand the results of the inoculations, so you tell me, Nurse Sanders, is it really conspiracy bullshit?”

  “No testing? How can that be, that’s against regulations—”

  “I know that, Isaac,” Grace said, “but Calgleef pressed the case, hard. In later conversations I had with both of them, I felt there was more than a professional liaison between them.”

  “You’re saying that the director of the Centers for Disease Control and an eminent doctor from Europe have conspired with a multinational pharmaceutical company to spread the Baltic flu throughout the world so they can profit from the sale of a vaccine to billions of people every year, is that it?”

  “In a nutshell, you’ve got it!” Grace was impressed with how Sanders—though totally unreceptive—had it all figured out.

  “Well, I’m not—” Tilford was prevented from continuing by Grace’s extended hand.

  “Shh,” she said and crawled hands and knees to the door.

  “What is it, are they back?” Sanders asked in a hushed voice.

  “Quiet, just be quiet!” Grace put her ear to the door, which didn’t help here. But still, she was positive she’d heard a low-pitched growl like that uttered by the infected as they’d followed them up the stairs.

  “Well, I thought—” A menacing screech followed—in the room with them.

  “OH SHIT!” Sanders jumped and staggered back.

  “Holy fuck!” Tilford yelled and scooted backward along the floor, his eyes were as big as tennis balls as fear and shock took hold. Nurse Childs, all three-hundred-plus pounds, launched at him. Her eyes were now pools of blood, with a streak which ran the length of both cheeks. Her skin had an off—white, pastry like appearance. Howling like a coyote infected with rabies, she mounted him.

  “Grace, help… help—”

  Childs straddled him like a horse, one massive thigh on either side of his torso. Even at around the six foot mark, give or take an inch, Tilford was no match for the nurse’s weight. She snatched at his shirt, tore it, tossed her head about vigorously, enraptured with the delight that awaited her—Tilford’s blood. She rapidly thrust her tongue in and out, saliva running down her chins, all three of them, and over the spare tire that was her neck before she made a gurgling sound, reached up and grabbed the top collar of her uniform—a button up front type, worn by the desk bound nurses—and pulled downwards, splitting the top in two. Her bra received the same treatment. A modern marvel of construction in itself, it could have comfortably seated two toddlers or a week’s worth of groceries. Her tits were the size of watermelons and flopped to her mid—riff with their weight all. They were so large that Tilford momentarily wondered how she managed to fit both of them inside her bra. Strange, the things people think of when they’re staring at death or in this case two giant—sized breasts. Tilford began to struggle; not only was Childs about to tear into him and drink his blood, she crushed the air from his lungs.

  She swung her huge tits from side to side, enjoying the freedom and the fresh air. “Arghhh hahaha haa…” she screeched, like the wicked witch in Snow White then grabbed Tilford by the ears, pulled him, into the cleavage. His head disappeared between the two huge mammaries as she rubbed his head from side to side against her tits while she jiggled up and down on his body. Sanders, meanwhile, staggered behind Grace who leveled the-now loaded-revolver and took aim.

  “Arghh haha,” she screeched. “Arghh ha ha—”

  The sharp report of the .38 ended Childs’s frenzy and her life, if that’s what it was. Grace loaded the gun in under ten-seconds, without a speed-loader, which was something she’d practiced over and over again at the gun range. Just like many of the martial arts, where the techniques always work in the dojo, the real world was an entirely different matter and you never really know how good you were until you had to do it in the real world. Grace’s aim, under extreme pressure, was also true. She didn’t miss; the distance wasn’t great, but her hands and heart trembled so badly she could very easily have done so. She remembered her range training from the former Marine instructor, “Breathe in, let half of it out, hold it, then fire…” and she did.

  Childs wobbled at first from the impact, then started to sway forward. Her tits swung li
ke twenty-gallon garbage bags filled with water, and her blood red eyes glazed over.

  “Roll Isaac, roll!” Grace ordered. If Childs crashed down on top of him, he might have trouble getting out. Grace was also concerned with the blood that ran from the wound to the side of her head. She knew all flu’s, diseases and viral infections, were contagious through bodily fluid contact but especially blood. They couldn’t afford to lose another now. Tilford rolled to his right while pushing Childs’s body opposite. As she began to topple over, he squeezed out.

  Would it be only a matter of time before we all turn on each other like Nurse Childs had? Grace considered as she tucked the gun into her pants. She watched as Tilford took several deep breaths, she was sure he needed it. Hell, they all needed a few.

  “Are you all right, Isaac? Are you—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I think so. Thanks to you, but I can’t help thinking what might have been if there wasn’t a gun in here, you know?” He forced a nervous smile at Grace, it was all he could manage at this time.

  “Did you get any of her blood on you?” Sanders asked as she stared wide eyed at the body of her work friend, Jenny Childs, whose fingers still trembled and her huge tits jiggled.

  “I don’t—don’t think so, I—”

  “Check yourself over, Isaac.”

  He felt the top of his forehead and his hair as Grace suggested. Both were wet.

  “Jesus!” he pulled his hand down and looked; there was no blood but his fingers were damp. “Saliva. She dribbled like a newborn.”

  Grace thought his memory may have been impaired when his head was squashed by Childs giant breasts.

  “Here, wash it off!” Sanders tossed him a bottle of water.

  Tilford caught the bottle and wasted no time. He screwed the top off, then poured the contents all over the top of his head. He rubbed energetically with both hands but soon started to shudder all over.

  “What’s wrong? The water isn’t cold.”

  “No, no… it’s not that, it’s just what happened to Childs. All the blood, and the spittle, and, and… ylech!” He screwed his face up in disgust before turning suddenly into the corner and heaving up the contents of his stomach. It was all too much.

  “Oh my God!” Sanders muttered.

  Grace wasn’t all that impressed with Tilford’s display either but understood. If her head had been wedged between Childs melon-sized tits like that she be throwing up too. Grace brought her bottle of water over to Tilford. “Here, wash your mouth out.”

  Tilford had struggle for air when Childs held him to her massive breasts and rocked back and forth, but that wasn’t the reason for his revulsion nor was her changing into one of the blood—seeking ghouls. No, it was during this encounter with death and oversized tits that he had got a hard-on, the most arousing cock—throbbing hard—on ever. He wasn’t about to own up to that. Not to anyone.

  Grace hadn’t shot anything other than paper targets, but she had no choice, and couldn’t afford to concern herself with the moral complexities of taking another life, even one as far removed as Jenny Childs’ was. It had to be done in order to save another.

  “Oh, oh… oh my God, I can’t—”

  “Look away, Beth, look away now!” Grace ordered Sanders, who couldn’t stop staring at the twitching fingers of Nurse Childs.

  “If anything’s going to bring those things back, that gunshot will do it.” Tilford at last was able to say.

  “Agreed. We’re going to have to make a run for the roof. It’s our only choice. You sure you’re up for it?” Grace double checked. Sanders, might present a problem. She was going into shock.

  “How do we get there, Isaac?”

  “Back the same way we came into the stairwell and go through the door on the left that takes you to the third floor and the stairs to the roof landing.”

  “Ready?” Grace received a nod from Tilford but nothing from Sanders.

  “Beth, Beth?” She called twice without a response.

  “Nurse Sanders! Are you with us?” The firmness of Tilford’s stronger voice got her attention.

  “Ah, sorry, what did you say?”

  “We’re going now. Are you coming?”

  Sanders looked at Tilford, then Grace; she didn’t ask any questions but didn’t look quite with it. She finally moved toward the door where Tilford stood, ready to open it.

  “Okay, we go straight out here, through the office, then back to the main corridor to the nurses’ station, got it?” He explained to Grace. Sanders was unresponsive. All they could hope for is that she would follow, without hesitation. “Hope you’re ready to shoot that thing again,” he said to Grace.

  “I won’t have any choice if we run into any of the infected, will I?”

  Tilford nodded, reached over and took her forearm. She understood when he mouthed the words thank you and gave him a warm smile in reply. Together they took a deep breath, he yanked open the door and stepped to one side as she raised her gun in a combat stance just as she’d been taught.

  That grumpy old Marine would be proud of me now, she told herself.

  “Let’s go!” she called on Tilford. In one hand he held his mop aloft, in the other he led Nurse Sanders along.

  11

  Eleven

  Before Moya left for the United States he was given details of the hospital in Des Moines. This included the exact location, floor plans, emergency procedures and security codes. The NSA were able to monitor movement inside via high—tech thermal imaging satellites and this information was passed onto Calgleef who called Moya to tell him of movement within. That movement was detected was one thing, the identity was something else entirely. Moya had a hunch it might be Delaney—that was all it was— but he acted on it anyway and called her. He may have sold his ideals out for money but he wasn’t a killer and when she answered gladly gave her the access code to the security storeroom.

  Once Moya received confirmation Delaney made it into the storeroom alive and well, he decided it was time to vacate the premises—the whole state of Iowa in fact. He first thought of Chicago, but if just one infected person made it there the virus would sweep through the city in no time. Kansas City then, became his first stopover. He had no idea whatsoever of who or what it was that attacked Delaney in the hospital, but obviously there was a link to the vaccine. The vaccine made by the company that he represented. The vaccine that he promoted and championed.

  “They showed symptoms of the Baltic flu at first she said, but then they attacked others.” He muttered to himself as he lined up to board the next flight to Kansas City. He had no corroboration of these claims, but Grace Delaney’s manner on the phone suggested she wasn’t faking her terror.

  On arrival in Kansas City he took a room at a nondescript three-star hotel, then checked in with Calgleef for any updates. “What’s happening at Riverside?” he asked after a short greeting; the two men had never met but a mutual dislike was apparent.

  “Well you’re not going to like this… the media have arrived and—”

  “WHAT?” Damn right I’m not going to like it. Moya said to himself after he snapped at Calgleef.

  “As their trucks pulled up, they began filming right away. Before they could be moved on, several staff members crashed through the windows—must be a dozen or more.”

  “They escaped from the lockdown, you say?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what happened and it was filmed by TV news. Surprised you haven’t seen it actually.”

  “I’ve been traveling, don’t want to be too close to the hospital, for reasons known to both of us.”

  “You need to make your way to Atlanta to the CDC building.”

  “Yes, I thought that would be best. Now tell me what the plans are for those who have escaped.”

  “We’ve rounded them up taken them into custody and—”

  “Into custody? Where precisely would that be?” Moya was shocked. He had a fair idea of the game plan now, or assumed he did, but another flare-up in a locatio
n not directly under any control could be disastrous. The contagion could spread at a rate faster than they could possibly manage.

  “At the Polk County prison. Is there something wrong with that?”

  “Wrong, you imbecile! You’re the director of the CDC. You’re supposed to know about contagious diseases, and you’ve put people who have been in contact with possibly the most potent virus on the planet into a state penitentiary?”

  Calgleef understood his mistake. With all the effort spent on micro—managing the CDC response, as per Thorncroft’s instructions, the cloak and dagger stuff with the NSA and the false reports to the White House he’d forgotten the mandate of the very organization responsible for controlling contagious disease of which he happened to be the director.

  “Yes, yes I’m sorry I was—”

  “Never mind that now Calgleef, they must be placed in quarantine, in a secluded building sealed off with no chance to escape. Surely you can understand that?”

  “Yes, yes I do, but at the time I was fazed by the media and the filming. I just, just panicked… sorry.”

  “We’re all in new territory here. But we shouldn’t allow ourselves to become complacent we have to maintain our positions as we would in any other situation of similar circumstances. Do you understand? All the authorities know is it’s an outbreak of Legionnaires Disease, right?” He paused while he received a grunt of acknowledgment, “Then we should be safe.”

  “Now you get busy organizing the quarantine for those people. And one more question. Have any more escaped since then?”

  “No, they’ve been the only ones.”