Calgleef didn’t respond to the question, which he found trivial and out of place. “How many police on site?”
“I can’t see entirely, but there must be just as many. They’re ringed about a block around the hospital.”
“Anything else to report?” Calgleef didn’t ask if the fire crews were present. How could he? It would be an admission of prior knowledge. “Has there been any indication if the Guard intends to move in?”
Calgleef played the game well. He knew only too well they were ready and all that was needed for a frontal assault was the governor’s official proclamation the Iowa was now in a state of emergency. That decision was due within the hour and then the gates to hell would be opened.
The Governor of Iowa sat in his plush Terrace Hill office, the official residence of the state governor. Still early, he was dressed in a red and blue plaid gown and dark slippers. He had a large mug of coffee—his second—on his desk. He waited for the commanding officer of the National Guard on site, Colonel Warwick, to come to the phone.
“Colonel, this is Governor Horman. I’m calling to instruct you that a state of emergency has been declared in Iowa. You have full responsibility for restoring order in Riverside Hospital. Do you understand this undertaking?”
“Yes, sir, I confirm this understanding,” came the robotic reply.
“Good luck to you and your men and may God be with you.”
The governor hung up and took a drink of his coffee. A drop of whiskey would have made a nice touch, but perhaps today wasn't the day to get plastered too early. A hectic day was ahead of him. Later he could have a drink or maybe six. Hell, maybe he would just stay drunk. With what was about to unfold and the deal he made with the devil, it might be the only way to keep from thinking about it.
“Millie, Millie?” he called his wife, still in bed. “Get up and get dressed, we got a plane to catch.”
“Wha… Where are we going at this hour?”
Horman took off his robe then turned to his wife. “Anywhere but here.”
She had no idea what he meant but understood the solemn look on his face. She wasted no time and bounced out of bed.
7
Seven
America’s five most-wanted spent an uncomfortable night inside the abandoned factory not two miles from The Slippery Dick and closer again to Des Moines. When Grace spotted the “No Trespassers” sign at the front of the factory, after sighting flashing lights of a police car in the distance, the hotel idea was scrapped in favor of the derelict building. Cold and miserable it may be but safe—they hoped. It was “as good a place as any” to hide, and as Grace said, “the last place authorities would look would be near the city.” After all, they had done their level-best to escape from there. Mike agreed with her and said the quicker they got off the roads, the better the chances. The others however, voiced some concern.
“What’s our plan now?” Richard asked from the front seat where he slept—or tried to.
“I have no idea, but one thing is for certain.”
“What’s that, Mike?” Grace asked from the back seat she shared with Tilford and that fool reporter.
“If we’re as wanted as I assumed, why have there been no cops on the highway or choppers flying over?”
It was still dark inside the factory and the morning air gave off quite a chill. But it was far better than the alternative.
“We’re nowhere near the road, how can you—” Steve Donalds started.
“I’ve been awake since we got here and I can hear the traffic, or what little there is of it.”
“Are you saying they’re not looking for us?” Tilford asked.
“Oh, I doubt that, but it doesn’t appear to be an all-out manhunt, if you know what I mean.”
Grace listened to Mike’s assessment before commenting. “They don’t have the manpower.”
“Sorry, Grace, I don’t understand.” Tilford turned to his left to look at her. He was wedged in the back seat, between Grace and Steve.
“The protocol for an emergency of this magnitude and especially when dealing with a contagious pathogen would be to enact a strict quarantine. In a city, that means barriers and armed guards and that will leave precious few officers to conduct a search for five fugitives.”
“Could be they expect us to head to the interstate and then leave the search up to the law there.”
“Which brings me back to my original question—what’s our plans?”
Of the five, Grace was the most determined. She had been lied to, deceived, and made a fool of. Her position with the CDC was used to further the aims of the conspiracy.
To say Grace Delaney wasn’t happy was a gross understatement. She wanted revenge and the best way would be to unmask the entire sordid conspiracy—which she fully intended to do. Her team, if you could call it that, consisted of a former military chopper pilot who didn’t flinch when it came to doing what had to be done. His experience and ruthlessness would be an asset if they were to succeed. Then there was first-year doctor, Isaac Tilford. When she first met him, Grace’s initial thought was on a quiet dinner for two after the day’s work had been completed and then… But that wasn’t to be. Tilford exhibited some smarts and showed he was more than prepared to act when he had to, but was overall cautious. Nonetheless, this attitude would be a benefit, too.
For camera operator Richard, his only interest appeared to be his survival. He didn’t want to get killed or imprisoned for life and this was as good a motivator as any, and he’d already shown his resourcefulness.
Reporter Steve Donalds on the other hand, was a different story altogether. Like Richard, he was interested in saving himself, but unlike his camera operator, he was willing to jeopardize others in the process. Grace kept a watchful eye on him and she could tell Mike trusted the reporter about as far as he could throw him.
“I think we should stay inside the factory until nightfall. One of us can then go for food to hold us over for another night. We’ll get moving first thing in the morning.”
“Mike’s right,” Grace said as she opened the car door. “And before you ask again, Richard—we’re going to the governor’s office.”
Steve jumped out of the front passenger side a moment later. “The governor’s office? That’s crazy, the office is right in the center of Des Moines.”
“I’m glad you know the location, Donalds—you can show us how to get there!”
The others also got out of the car as the morning sun began to lighten the interior of the factory.
“The survival of the American people and ourselves are interlocked—one depends on the other. We have no choice, so let me see you get on the team.”
“Or…?”
“You and I will have a private talk,” Mike answered in a low but firm tone.
“Why the governor’s office?” Tilford stretched his arms out—it had been a tight fit in the back seat.
“The CDC has been compromised—that I can personally attest to—and I have to assume other departments have been as well. If we’re to prevent this virus from infecting millions across America, then we must inform the president. And the quickest way will be through the governor.”
“That would be the best play, but if the city has been quarantined—as you said—then wouldn’t it be reasonable to assume certain individuals would be insulated from the threat?”
Grace now understood that Richard thought about their predicament a lot more than it appeared.
“He’s probably right, you know. Getting into the city will be hard enough, but the governor’s office might be damn near impossible,” Mike agreed.
“I’ve got the governor’s phone number.” Steve surprised everyone with his admission and his willingness to participate. “As a reporter, I’ve had to call the governor’s office on many occasions for verifications of one thing or another. It got to a point where I knew it by heart.”
“We’re going to have to think about what to say if we want the governor to contact the pre
sident,” Tilford conceded.
“There’s something else to consider. What if the governor or the president—or both—are part of the conspiracy? As you said, Doctor, officials high up had to be corrupted for this scheme to succeed, so it’s not inconceivable that the leaders of the state and the country are among them, is it?”
Steve’s question—though pertinent—left Grace thinking if he was simply positioning himself within the group.
“That possibility can’t be overlooked and if that either or both are involved—and if that’s the case, we’re all fucked—us as well as America. But it’s the only play we have.” Grace was equally aware of the possibility.
“Who dares wins.”
“What, what did you say?” Tilford heard what Mike said but didn’t grasp the meaning.
“It’s the motto of the British SAS. Basically, if you don’t dare or try, you can’t succeed.”
“Damn, I like it!” Tilford looked around at the others, a large grin now on his face. “We should adopt it, too.”
“Why not, it certainly fits.” Grace also liked the sound of it. “We’ll need to get hold of a phone. Any ideas, Mike?”
Mike paused for a moment then answered. “I’ll go out tonight for food. I’ll see about acquiring a phone while I’m at it.”
“You’ll need someone to watch your back and—”
“Good thinking, Donalds.” Grace said then turned to the Richard. “Why don’t you go with Mike?” Grace avoided a confrontation with the reporter while agreeing with him. “In the meantime, I suggest we see if there’s any running water in this place.”
As soon as she said that, Grace walked to the rear of the building—it was light enough now to see the restrooms and a set of stairs. One by one, she heard the footsteps of the others as they followed. Without making any demands, she’d demonstrated she was under control and was indeed the one in charge.
Now if I can only convince myself.
8
Eight
When Calgleef’s phone rang again, it was almost midday. He’d had time to freshen up and his stomach stabilized enough to accept some light food of scrambled eggs and toast from the cafeteria—though it wasn’t easy.
“Calgleef,” he said after checking the call ID and saw it was Rollens, the senior CDC officer at Riverside Hospital.
“Sir, the guard is about to move in. Any special orders?”
“Are they in protective clothing?”
“Yes, sir. Hazmat suits with self-contained breathing—”
“Tell them to get blood and saliva samples from any casualties inside the hospital and get it to the pathology lab on Pleasant St. We have technicians there,”
“Should they take the bodies, Sir?”
Calgleef paused to think it over—his head still wasn’t the best.
“Yes, take the ones in the best physical condition—they would have perished last. But they must be in an air-tight body bag. This is a bio-safety level four procedure, understand?”
“Yes, sir, I’m aware of the safety level.”
“Just make sure the National Guard and the police are okay.”
Calgleef didn’t wait for an answer and ended the call. He needed a few pain killers. Before he had the opportunity to avail himself of any relief, his phone rang again. It was his hotline number; given to various services and persons directly involved in the emergency. The ID on the call was, DMPD: Des Moines Police Department.
“Calgleef,”
“Calgleef, what the hell is going on out here? And I want the truth.”
Calgleef recognized the voice but couldn’t place the name.
“You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve been inundated with calls in the last few minutes. Whom am I addressing?” He did his best to sound in control.
“This is Chief of Police, Denman.”
“Ah, Chief Denman, good of you to call. What is your concern?”
“What? What do you fuckin’ think?” The chief sounded furious.
The Director of the CDC quickly ran over scenarios in his head.
Could the police chief be pissed over a jurisdictional squabble with the National Guard and holds me accountable?
“Chief Denman, let me assure you the decision to declare a state of emergency and send in the Guard wasn’t taken lightly. It was the recommendation of the FDA and myself as Director of the Centers for Disease Control and the president—”
“Fuck the president!” Denman’s words were pure venom. “I’m not concerned with who’s running the show, I want to know about the disease.”
Everyone in Des Moines—and across the entire country—was now aware that it was the Baltic Flu which had ravaged Riverside Hospital. Press releases from the CDC, the FDA, state health officials, and the White House had hit the TV news services and the Internet. Anger and fear now gripped the population of Des Moines. For the rest of the country, as concerned with events as many were, as long as they weren’t near Iowa, the expected panic hadn’t eventuated. For the moment.
“I’m sure you’ve read enough on the outbreak overseas.”
“But how did it happen here—so fast?”
Calgleef also detected a touch of fear in the Chief’s voice.
“As you know, Chief Denman, we’re trying to circumvent the flu’s arrival in the North American continent. Unfortunately, the overseas representative of the vaccine manufacturer turned out to be the unwitting host and—”
“This representative was contagious and passed it on to the patients at Riverside, right?”
That wasn’t quite true, but it would be the sum of the story given to the media. If the chief of police could be persuaded to accepted the ruse, then it would go a long way to reducing the pressure on himself. His head still pounded, he really didn’t need this shit. He rubbed a frustrated hand over his brow and to the side of his temple. “As this man, Moya was his name, represented the pharmaceutical company, he visited the hospital on the morning the vaccinations started. Many of the patients were infirm, elderly, or were drug users, and so their immune system wasn’t as strong and—”
“Oh bullshit, Calgleef. I’m the fucking chief of police, not a starry-eyed kid that believes in fairy tales. I know just as well as you that people don’t become symptomatic within a few hours of contact with a contagious person unless the virus itself was intravenously administered. And even then, it would have to be some form of a deliberately mutated or weaponized virus.”
Denman didn’t arrive on the last train, he’d take some convincing.
“Well, this strain of the H1N1—” Calgleef hoped his use medical terminology might exert a calming influence over the chief.
No such luck.
“Has broken out all over my city!”
Calgleef literally staggered back until he hit the wall. Was Denman confused about the hospital outbreak and the number of sufferers?
“Wh-what do you mean by that?”
Calgleef was now the one to exhibit fear.
“Earlier this morning, an off-duty officer became ill at a bar and—according to the man he attacked—his eyes turned red—blood-red. That officer was on the scene when the three staff members escaped from the hospital in the TV helicopter.”
“Oh shit,” Calgleef put a hand to his forehead and he eased himself into his office chair.
“Witnesses also claim,” Denman continued, “that he tried to bite the customer before he was shot by the bartender.”
Calgleef stared blankly at the far wall. That was similar to the descriptions of events inside the hospital.
“It gets worse. The bartender who shot the cop and was summarily arrested and the customer who was attacked were taken to a clinic on the west side of the city.”
“Oh, dear God, no.” Calgleef slumped forward and rested his head in his hand. His stomach and head were not good but he needed another drink—a strong one!
“He won’t save you or any of us, not if this virus continues to act like it is.”
“Con
tinues? There’s more?”
“You don’t know the half of it. The first few that broke through the front windows to escape the hospital were taken to Polk County Prison, as you know. The prison has gone into lockdown. We’ve had reports of staff and prisoners attacking one another with their bare hands and teeth. There have been many deaths and all contact ceased several hours ago. I’ve made a request to the governor for National Guard and riot police, but he isn’t answering his calls. Customers from the bar, over a hundred, have all been rushed to clinics and hospitals around the city. The mortuary where the dead officer was taken has also been affected. The officers that rushed in to assist your CDC special team have all been hospitalized. There are no ambulances or EMTs in the city to transport anyone. We can’t get any from other counties because of the barricades that have gone up—even if they were willing to come. And lastly, there is a report of a riot taking place at the precinct where the bartender was taken. We’ve lost communications, so I can’t give you any more details.”
Calgleef turned in his swivel chair and stared out the window once he managed to end the call with Chief Denman. The CDC Director told the Des Moines police chief he’d get the extra manpower that was needed, that he’d contact the White House and request FEMA be sent in. Their only hope now would be the vaccine on its way in special military flights from the United Kingdom. The virus was now out of control, Calgleef knew that much, and would be difficult to contain. It would only be a matter of hours before thousands would be infected and they in turn would infect thousands more. Des Moines would become a no-go zone.
“And how do we prevent it from spreading further, burn the whole city down?” he said to his next shot of bourbon before he threw back the contents. He winced and gritted his teeth, his stomach rebelling against another bombardment of alcohol. The flu was now a plague, a pestilence from which there would be no return.
“Can’t make money when you’re dead,” he said as he poured another bourbon.
Pestilence Boxed Set [Books 1 & 2] Page 19