Pandemic: Level 6: A Post Apocalyptic Medical Thriller Fiction Series (The Pandemic Series Book 3)

by Bobby Akart

  Iridium-192, a Category 2 radioactive isotope used to test oil and gas pipelines in Iraq, was stolen by ISIS operatives from a storage facility in the southern city of al-Zubair. The media reported the amount missing as only ten grams. This was not true and purposefully understated to avoid a panic. The actual amount taken was one thousand grams, a full kilogram. Combined with other bomb-making materials, exposure to the substance could cause death within a day.

  Following the declaration of Osama bin Laden, Hassan’s former mentor, he espoused to the belief that acquiring weapons of mass destruction was his religious duty. Hassan implemented a plan involving armed drones, which were purchased at Walmart and Amazon.

  The terrorist cells in America had the munitions and the radioactive material in place prior to his son’s activation of the plague attack. The drones would be armed with dirty bombs and ready for his fighters to be deployed. His fighters had tremendous patience and trusted the directors of the caliph without question.

  Within days, Islamic terrorists would be moving toward their targets, as they were already in place. Military installations would be the first to be attacked. The devastating blows would cause further disarray in the governments of the West and destroy what confidence their people had in their institutions.

  Then America’s symbols of freedom would be damaged, just as ISIS had done to Christian monuments and historic locations in Iraq. Finally, the black standard, the battle flag of ISIS, would be raised on the nation’s most recognized structures in Washington, Philadelphia, and New York. Victory would be theirs.

  Chapter 56

  Day Seventy-Three

  The Quarantine House

  Quandary Peak

  Tommy woke up to Flatus licking his face. The night before, he’d gone to bed immediately after Hunter and Mac arranged a front yard cookout for everyone. Janie had come inside to check on Marcus and disconnected his IV lines so the young boy could sit on the front porch and be part of the action.

  Pan-fried trout and barbecue beans were on the menu, cooked in a cast-iron skillet over a campfire that was carefully tended by Hunter, the group’s self-proclaimed fire chief. Tommy entertained the crowd with jokes, using the black Labrador as a prop in a quasi-ventriloquist act in which Flatus attempted to explain to the adoring audience about the pleasure of passing gas.

  This morning, Tommy felt refreshed although he was starting to feel some muscle fatigue, which he attributed to the physical activity associated with fighting the fire. Although it had only been a few days, Tommy was feeling fine and was beginning to hope that the medications were working.

  His spirits were dampened when he checked on Marcus. The boy’s fever had increased to over one hundred one degrees. His breathing was shallow and forced. Marcus continued to be weak and now his pain was getting worse.

  Tommy and Flatus tried their best to lift the boy’s spirits, but it wasn’t working this time. Marcus didn’t have the energy to laugh or react.

  Tommy knew Marcus was dying. He wanted to offer his love and care, but this was a new experience for him. Children weren’t supposed to die. Tommy struggled with accepting the reality of this young boy’s condition, who had lost his parents to the disease, and the rest of his family to the fire.

  Tommy tried to wrap his head around what kind of world he lived in that would allow this to happen to an innocent child. As he paced the living room floor, Tommy heard Marcus call from the bedroom.

  “Mister?” Marcus whispered with all of his strength.

  Tommy raced into the room. “Marcus, are you ever going to call me Tommy?”

  “Yes, sir. If Pa says it’s okay.” Tommy’s eyes welled up in tears, as Marcus had forgotten about the death of his parents. He turned momentarily to regain his composure.

  “Okay, Marcus, we’ll ask him later, okay?”

  “’Kay. I don’t feel so good.”

  “I know, son. It probably hurts all over.”

  His eyes rolled back in his head and then he opened them again. “It feels like I’m dying.”

  The tears came back to Tommy’s eyes. He didn’t know how to respond to this. Was it compassionate to lie to the boy, giving him a false sense of hope? Or should he be honest and not underestimate the child’s ability to understand?

  “Marcus, I’m gonna keep you comfortable so you can rest. You try not to think about your pain, and dream about the days you and your pa went camping together, okay?”

  “’Kay,” he whispered and then he reached for Tommy. “I’m a little afraid.”

  “That’s okay, son. I’ll stay right here with ya.”

  Marcus grew weaker but managed to speak again. “We used to sing camp songs. Sing me a camp song, Pa.”

  Tommy buried his head in his hands. He wanted to give Marcus comfort, but he needed to ease the pain in his heart too. Flatus flopped on the floor by the bed and periodically looked up at Tommy with his sad, puppy eyes.

  “Okay, Marcus, here we go.” Tommy wiped away his tears and squeezed the young boy’s hand. He began in a low voice.

  “Look up to the sky, when all you see is rain.

  “But when the clouds have blown away, the sky is blue a-gain.

  “So when you’re lonely and afraid,

  “And life is hard to understand,

  “Remember, happiness is waiting near,

  “And peace will take you by the hand.”

  Chapter 57

  Day Seventy-Four

  Quandary Peak

  Hunter had never been in a serious relationship until he met Mac. He grew up in an emotionless household in which his father traveled a lot and, when he was home, spent much of his time with business associates and politicians. He provided Hunter the best life and opportunities money could buy, but Hunter had to learn to become a man on his own.

  He was feeling the pain Mac was experiencing. He promised to be by her side as much as possible. Doc and Derek continued to maintain the checkpoint. The group set aside the food-gathering chores, opting instead to focus on caring for their family instead of future sustenance.

  This was a time for him to comfort Mac, who was aching from the feeling of helplessness as yet another trio of lab mice succumbed to the plague.

  Janie spent a considerable amount of time just outside the lab, offering words of encouragement and being a scientific sounding board. Barb was a constant companion of Tommy’s down at the quarantine house.

  Hunter was there for Mac when she emerged from the lab each day, encouraging her to share how she felt with him. He learned to become a good listener, a shoulder to cry on, and someone who provided her genuine empathy for her grief. He’d also lost parents far too soon.

  “Hi,” Mac said softly when she emerged from the bathroom, which had been modified to be used as their decontamination chamber. “You’re always waiting for me.”

  “I love you,” were the first words out of Hunter’s mouth. These were three words he’d never expressed to anyone other than Mac, including his parents that he could recall. They weren’t spoken often in the Hunter home.

  “I love you more,” she responded and gave him a hug, which was more like a collapse into his arms.

  “Mac, I don’t want to hover or smother you right now. If you need some time alone, or with your mom, just tell me.”

  She pulled away just enough to look in his eyes. “If you weren’t here every day, I’d fall on the floor, curl up in a ball, and cry like a baby.”

  He began to laugh. “Would that make you feel better?”

  “Nope,” she said, then chuckled. “What would make me feel better is a glass of wine.”

  “Forget that. Do I have a surprise for you. Come with me.”

  Hunter led her upstairs and over to the refrigerator. He grinned and then proudly opened the door to display its contents. A six-pack of Budweiser longnecks stood at attention, ice cold and ready for consumption.

  “Oh my god, Hunter. Are you kidding me? Wait, is it any good? I mean, is it skunky beer?”<
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  Mac reached in and pulled a bottle out of the cardboard carrier. Hunter grabbed one as well.

  “Skunky? I don’t know. I haven’t tried one yet. There’s only one way to find out.”

  They simultaneously popped their tops, clinked the glass necks of the bottles, and took healthy swigs, which quickly became gulps. If it was skunky beer, they’d know it soon enough.

  “Ahhh,” said Mac with a smile, which was a strong vote of approval for their favorite adult beverage. “Where—?” Her question was stifled by a loud belch, which she made no effort to conceal.

  “Well done!” Hunter congratulated Mac on her effort.

  She immediately wrapped her arms around Hunter and hugged him tight. “You have no idea how happy you make me. I don’t care how dark the clouds are around us, you’ll make sure to make me smile. I need that right now.”

  “It’s the best job I’ve ever had, and the pay is good too.” Hunter laughed as he kissed her. He took her by the hand and led her onto the deck to get some fresh mountain air in her lungs. The air was beginning to chill earlier in the day now, as fall was right around the corner. They suspected Quandary Peak could get an occasional snowfall with the first signs of moisture.

  Mac finished her beer and Hunter quickly grabbed her another. When he returned, she asked, “Should we save them?”

  “Nope. These were a present from Derek. He received them from one of the neighbors who’d thought they’d lost their dog to the fire. Derek found the puppy during the initial stages of the fire and stashed him in the cab of the pickup. They gave him a case of Bud as a thank-you.”

  “You mean there are more?” asked Mac.

  “Yes, ma’am. Three more six-packs after this one. I didn’t want to fill Barb’s fridge with beer.”

  “Oh yeah, Mom would be pissed. Now, if it was half a dozen bottles of chardonnay, she’d call you her hero.”

  Hunter laughed. “Well, that job’s already taken by your—” Hunter caught himself as he momentarily forgot about the circumstances. “Oh crap, I’m sorry, Mac.”

  She reached over and touched his arm. “Don’t worry about it, Hunter. First off, despite my mother’s tough exterior, she needs Daddy more than she lets on. He’s always hung the moon in her eyes. As for me, at least at this moment, I’ve tried to detach myself emotionally and keep my scientist’s hat on and my big-girl panties pulled up.”

  “I’m proud of you, Mac. You’re much stronger that I am.”

  “Temporarily, anyway,” she said. She turned to Hunter and touched him on the chest. “I couldn’t do this without you. Thank you.”

  “You’ll never have to.”

  They stood at the rail with their arms wrapped around each other’s back, sharing a rare quiet moment alone. For a time, they forgot about the world around them and the emotional suffering of everyone.

  Janie appeared at the deck stairs, catching them off guard. She joined them as tears streamed down her face.

  “Janie, is it Daddy?” asked Mac in a panic.

  Janie shook her head but couldn’t manage the words.

  Hunter tried to help. “Something has happened to Marcus, hasn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Janie said as Mac rushed into her arms to console her. “He just died.”

  Chapter 58

  Day Seventy-Five

  The Quarantine House

  Quandary Peak

  Marcus peacefully closed his eyes while Tommy was reading him an old copy of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory that he’d found on a bookcase in the living room. It was their third reading and Marcus enjoyed it every time.

  On this last occasion, Tommy was unaware of the child’s death until Flatus raised his head off the floor and whimpered. He held two fingers to the youngster’s neck and then checked his breathing. Quietly, just like that, Marcus was gone.

  Tommy stared at the boy. Marcus lay there with a slight smile on his face. There was no evidence of pain or distress. He was a five-year-old boy who had been dealt a bad set of cards like billions of others around the world had and, in a very grown-up way, had accepted his fate.

  He took a few minutes to cry alone on the front porch. The fresh mountain air and the dusting of snow on Quandary Peak reminded him that he was still alive, for now. Tommy hadn’t complained about the weakness he was experiencing or the sudden, random chest pains. Sure, it would have been easy to attribute the occasional episodes when he was short of breath to the high altitude. However, he knew better.

  He’d listened to Barb and Mac enough to know what was happening to him. It had been five days since he’d encountered Marcus up on Mount Argentine. In two or three more days, he’d be experiencing the full spectrum of symptoms of pneumonic plague. Four or five days after that, he’d be dead.

  Wow, dead. Four or five days.

  Tommy had to prepare himself for this reality, but he wasn’t sure how. He wasn’t a religious man. He once vowed not to be one of those people who found religion in those final moments as the airplane they rode in was about to crash. Now it was Tommy’s plane that was racing toward earth at five hundred miles per hour.

  If he wasn’t going to turn to God for strength, where would he turn?

  Barb returned to bring him some lunch and a mason jar of sun tea. When she saw him crying, she immediately knew what happened. Instinctively, out of love for her husband, she forgot about his disease. When she approached him, he shouted at her to stop.

  He was unaware of how loud his voice was, perhaps because he was distraught over the boy’s death. It jolted Barb and she dropped his food. For a brief moment, it was a chaotic scene as Barb dropped to her knees and sobbed. Just fifteen feet away, Tommy wept in deep fits of grief.

  They both hurt for one another, yet they couldn’t find a way to comfort each other from a distance. There were no walls, fences, glass, or bars separating them. Only the death Tommy carried within him—an invisible barrier as strong as steel.

  Janie came running and held Barb. She offered to suit up and take care of Marcus, but Tommy assured her he was capable of disconnecting the IV lines from the arms of the young boy, as he’d watched Janie do it several times.

  Tommy insisted on burying Marcus right away and he asked Janie to fetch Hunter to help dig a grave in the yard. He didn’t want to admit to Janie that he might be too weak to do it himself.

  Inside, Tommy found an old afghan throw that had been crocheted from wool. He lovingly placed it on the bed next to Marcus’s frail body. The disease had taken its toll on the boy, who probably weighed forty-five pounds a few days ago and had withered to barely thirty pounds when he passed.

  He’d opened the windows in the house to allow fresh air to pass through. The day before Mac had assured him the plague bacteria didn’t fly through the air without some type of propellant. It wasn’t pollen or dust.

  Barb called for Tommy after Hunter had completed the grave preparations. First, Tommy took Flatus outside and tied him off to a tree. He and Marcus had bonded in the final days. The boy’s death had saddened the usually happy Lab.

  Doc and his wife came down to pay their respects, as did Derek. Mac, Janie, and Barb had gathered some mountain wildflowers to place on the grave. The combination of white bittercress and Colorado blue columbine would act as a final gift to Marcus, a sign of hope that he’d start a new life in the hereafter.

  After speaking with everyone for a moment, Tommy returned inside to retrieve Marcus. He lifted the young boy into his arms and maneuvered through the house until he emerged on the front porch. He gently moved the afghan to reveal Marcus’s face to the sun, providing one final look at the innocent child whose life was unfairly taken from him.

  As Tommy made his way to the grave, his legs failed him for a moment, drawing a gasp from Barb. Derek moved toward him to assist, but his father wisely pulled him back. Tommy regained his footing and shuffled toward the grave slowly, taking deliberate steps to avoid collapsing.

  Perhaps it was the emotional moment or the effects
of the disease, but the thirty-five-pound body suddenly felt like a ton. Tommy barely made it to the grave before he fell to both knees on the rocky soil. His strength served him long enough to gently place Marcus in his grave.

  Remaining on his knees, Tommy began to cry. Several bunches of the blue columbine flowers were placed nearby, so he tucked them in the afghan with Marcus. Tommy left Marcus with these final words.

  “May our hearts be your shelter and our love give you peace. May you feel deeply loved as you rest, for indeed, you are loved. May you always see innocence through your eyes, as we see the innocence within you. We give you our hearts, as we have no greater gift to give. Lie in peace, Marcus.”

  Everyone cried for a moment. The death of a child could be overwhelming. For many, the grieving never ended, as it was unfathomable that a beautiful youngster could be cheated out of life’s experiences. There were no words to make it better, so everybody allowed the silence to speak volumes.

  Tommy rose with the assistance of the shovel and began to cover the body. Hunter offered to finish filling the grave, but Tommy waved him off.

  Tommy needed to do this himself. He repeated his words, “Lie in peace, Marcus.”

  Chapter 59

  Day Seventy-Five

  Cheyenne Mountain

  For decades, pundits and philosophers, tyrants and teachers, all warned against the annihilation of the human race from nuclear war. After ten weeks, a tiny plague bacterium, microscopic in size, was doing the job that all the nuclear weapons on the planet couldn’t achieve—the extinction of the human race.

  Yet it was the very thought of President Garcia launching a nuclear strike on the terrorists responsible for the pandemic that had the world’s major nuclear players in an uproar. The attempts by his Secretary of State to sway the opinions of Russia, China, and, through an intermediary, Iran were unsuccessful. A nuclear strike after decades of proliferation, but calm, was completely unacceptable. Especially to the Iranians, whose citizens would perish in any blast directed at the Qandil Mountains.