The Black: Outbreak

by Paul E. Cooley

  She tapped her headset. “Go ahead.”

  “Still can’t get dispatch on the line. No radio signal. Hell, my cell doesn’t even work and it’s got five damned bars.”

  “Understood.” Givens’ eyes widened a bit and then narrowed to their normal impassive state. Gooseflesh prickled her spine. “I want you and Schneck to search for a landline. Something that’s hooked up to the wall with a hard connection. Not one of those IP phones.”

  “Yes, Boss. Over and out.”

  She looked back at the hole and tapped the side of her rifle with her gloved fingers. They were trapped inside the hospital. There was nowhere to go. With the partition in place separating them from the main building, she didn’t even know if there was another way out of this place.

  The assailant, that was the only word she dared use, had escaped through the floor and into the basement. This floor was clear, safe. At least for now. Could the assailant come back up? She didn’t know. And that was the problem.

  She walked out of the room and closed the metal door behind her, Givens backing up to make room. “We need to find some metal. Something to block this room off from the other.”

  Givens said nothing, but cocked his head. It was his version of asking a question.

  “I don’t think it can go through metal or glass,” she said.

  Givens walked past the door to the wall. He rapped on its surface and Sarah’s heart sank as a hollow boom resounded in the hallway. “I don’t think there’s metal shielding the room. If the enemy broke through the walls, what’s going to keep it from doing the same thing again?”

  He had a point. She did her best to keep her face as impassive as his. “Then we’ll have to keep the civvies in the trauma center. It couldn’t get through there before. If we’re lucky, it won’t even try again.”

  He gave a curt nod. “Orders?”

  Orders. What a joke. “I want you and Perkins in this hallway. Stand guard over this room and the next. If the enemy comes back, I want an immediate warning. If that warning is a hail of bullets, all the better.”

  “Yes, Boss.”

  He followed her until he was past the first violated room. He stopped and turned around to face the rest of the hallway. She continued walking until she reached the trauma center’s glass walls.

  Perkins stood inside the doors. The three doctors were still sitting on the floor. She opened the door and blocked it from closing with a foot. “You and Givens cover the hall. He has the orders.”

  “Yes, Boss,” Perkins said.

  She left room for him to exit and then stepped inside. The glass door thumped closed behind her.

  “How fucked are we?” Mathis asked from the floor.

  Sarah didn’t like the color in the man’s face, let alone his tone. He was scared and exhausted to boot. Those suits had to be hotter than hell even in the cool operating suites. “I don’t know,” she said. “The military has quarantined the ER exit.”

  “Shit,” Dr. Harrel said.

  Sarah nodded. “So we have no way out. And I assume no one is coming in to help us.”

  “Fucking awesome,” Mathis said. “So now what?”

  “What’s below us?” Sarah asked.

  Harrel opened her mouth and then turned to Sharma. The Indian doctor was no longer in a modified fetal position, but he looked as if he’d pass out at any moment. “Dr. Sharma? What’s below us?”

  The doctor slowly turned his head as if on rusted hinges. He blinked twice. “What?”

  “What’s below us?” Harrel asked again.

  “Security. Cafeteria. Administration offices.”

  Sharma’s words flowed out in a trickling monotone of syllables. The CDC docs might be scared, but at least they were holding it together. Sarah didn’t know how much longer this man could hold out. And when he finally lost it, what was he going to do?

  “Security?” she asked. “How many guards?”

  Sharma looked up at her with glazed, vacant eyes. “I don’t know.”

  Sarah nodded. She’d expected as much. She pointed to Harrel and Mathis. “You guys should get out of those suits before you fry.”

  “We should,” Harrel agreed. “But Ellis wouldn’t be able to track us or see through our cameras.” She lifted one shoulder and Sarah finally saw the tiny metal eye attached to her suit.

  “Who’s Ellis?”

  “Dr. Paul Ellis,” Mathis said. “He’s in our mobile command center outside. We can’t reach him. But he should at least be able to see us.”

  Sarah shifted her feet. “I wouldn’t count on that. We can’t get a radio signal to dispatch, cell phones aren’t working even though they have five bars of signal, and your, um, creature, destroyed the IP phone trunks. At least for the annex.”

  Mathis loosed a short, humorless laugh. “We’re cut off.” He glanced at Harrel. “They’re playing things by the numbers.”

  “What are you talking about?” Sarah asked.

  Harrel sighed. “Lockdown. Major cities are prone to panic. Riots. Remember how bad the evacuation was for hurricane Rita? How many people got stranded and nearly died in their goddamned cars?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Just imagine,” Harrel continued, “what would happen if even one person posted on social media about what’s going on here. Or if phone calls were made. Or if someone snapped a photo of that thing and put it up on the internet. First off, Ben Taub would be surrounded by gawkers. And then, once they realized just how much danger they were in, they’d panic. Head for the hills. And it would spread.” She shook her head. “We’ve run the simulations. They’re terrifying.”

  “So they killed our access to the outside world.”

  Mathis nodded. He put an arm around Harrel. “Exactly. Homeland are the only ones that will talk to us now. No one else in the goddamned world even knows we exist.”

  Chapter 18

  Dr. Paul Ellis was very confused. And let’s not forget scared, he thought. The emulsion was ready, but now he was afraid to look at it, let alone touch it.

  The tiny drop of black floated in the center of the water, lifeless and unmoving. He was afraid to look at it directly, but more afraid to take his eyes off it. He imagined it sprouting tentacles, eye stalks, and a microscopic, but terrifying maw. Would it grow? Shit, what if it was sensitive to radiation? Or electricity? What if that’s what made it get so damned big?

  He shook away the thoughts and glanced upward at the camera. Somewhere in Atlanta, D.C., or hell, maybe even a few miles away, someone was monitoring the camera feeds. They were looking at him right now. Watching him.

  Ellis didn’t like that idea. Half of the team was dead. Mathis and Jennifer were trapped in the hospital. His camera feeds of Harrel and Mathis had turned to static. And that voice on the radio wanted him to just do his job?

  The emulsion sat there like a ticking time bomb. He’d no idea when the damned thing would go off. And yet here he was, about to put it under the S.E.M.

  Gloved hands shaking, he picked up the emulsion and carefully placed it in the portable electron microscope’s hopper. The emulsion wobbled with the movement. The single dot of black fluid floated to the side and then corrected itself. Ellis slammed the hopper closed, the sound barely audible through his helmet.

  He took a deep breath and rolled to the tiny computer and screen hooked up to the S.E.M. He unlocked it, set the magnification parameters, and then stopped. His finger dangled over the “Enter” key.

  This is insane, he thought. His job as a CDC “smokejumper” had always held the risk of this kind of situation. Risk, yes, but not a certainty. And now that he was facing the possibility of his own extinction, the job seemed less important.

  The CDC, and other organizations like it, existed to stop outbreaks of infectious diseases, dangerous bacteria, and exposure to harmful chemicals. It was an occupation that held danger, yes, but he went home every evening feeling as though he was doing something important. More important than the money he could easily make wo
rking at a pharmaceutical company or a think tank lab. The job was all that had mattered.

  But this wasn’t the job. Encountering something that could literally consume a human being in seconds? Something that ate anything that wasn’t metal or glass? That could change form in an instant? That was someone else’s job.

  If the idiots running the show at Homeland didn’t understand that, then they were all definitely doomed. If they tried to treat this like a normal biological event, everyone was dead.

  Yet, somehow, he knew that wasn’t the case. Homeland was playing the situation by the book. Ben Taub was quarantined and they’d cut all communications from inside. At least as far as he knew. And he, Dr. Paul Ellis, had no link to the outside world save for the faceless, seemingly unsympathetic voice on the radio.

  Would they try and save him if he did his job? Did he just have to hold out long enough for another team to take the dangerous sample off his hands?

  No, he thought. Protocol is protocol. They, the faceless nameless they, wouldn’t risk anyone else just to save his ass. Not unless he found a cure for the infection. If it was some kind of bacteria, or a virus, a vaccine could be manufactured as soon as they finished analyzing and tearing its DNA apart. That was at least something. Ellis felt a small surge of hope. He closed his eyes and hit the “Enter” key.

  He didn’t hear the electron microscope start bombarding the sample with electrons, but he felt its vibration through his gloved fingers. The helmet muffled nearly all external sound. He could turn on the external mic, but was afraid to do so.

  The computer screen went blank. A single word of green text, “Processing,” appeared on the black background. Ellis wished he could take off his helmet and wipe the sweat from his brow. The headband he wore did little to stem the water rising from his pores. God, he needed a break.

  He leaned back in the chair and eyed the empty cup of coffee. No more liquids until he could get to a safe area. And there was no such thing inside the mobile command center.

  The computer screen flashed and an image appeared on the right-hand side, the left covered with readings and a menu. Ellis stared at the screen for a moment, blinking. The picture was clear on the edges forming an area of positive space for a less than perfect circle of utter darkness.

  Ellis shivered. The ridiculously hot suit suddenly felt cold. His fingers shook, as did his legs. If he weren’t so goddamned terrified, he’d have been intrigued, even excited.

  But the dot of darkness, magnified far beyond the abilities of any regular microscope made for the human eye, was simply black. The electrons had done nothing. The substance wasn’t excitable. That just wasn’t possible.

  It had to be a living creature. Had to be! But every living creature on the planet had DNA. That was the law. Always the law.

  Not any more, he thought. Not any more.

  He thumbed the radio on his belt. “Control. This is Ellis.”

  There was a long pause. “This is Dr. Moore. Go ahead.”

  There was no saliva in his mouth. He bit the inside of one cheek hard enough to draw blood and swallowed. His throat, lubricated at least enough to get a few more words out, didn’t burn when he spoke. “No luck with the S.E.M.”

  “We know,” Dr. Moore said. “We just received the image.”

  Ellis froze. Jesus, he thought, how the hell—

  Dr. Moore’s voice came back over the radio. “We can see your instrument read-outs, Dr. Ellis. Don’t be alarmed.”

  Too late for that, he thought. “It’s just…black.”

  Pause. “What is your assessment?”

  “Assessment?” he asked. “My assessment is this shit doesn’t belong in reality.”

  Dr. Moore took a deep breath. “That’s not a scientific conclusion, Dr. Ellis.”

  “The hell it isn’t! This stuff has no atomic structure. No DNA. Nothing. It doesn’t react to electrons!”

  “Please calm down, Dr. Ellis.” Moore’s voice was infuriatingly level. It was also disgustingly patronizing. “Your findings are being put together along with our observations. We have other scientists analyzing the data, but until we’re able to get a physical sample of the infectious vector, we’ll have to rely upon your expertise.”

  Expertise. Something crumbled in Ellis’ mind. A fissure seemed to split down one side of his brain. He was on the verge of exploding or maybe crawling into a corner and curling up in the fetal position.

  “You’re not coming to get me.” The words croaked from his mouth.

  Pause. Perhaps only a second passed, but it seemed like years. “We will get you out of there, Dr. Ellis. Right now we have a larger problem in the hospital. What other tests can you run?”

  Tests? More fucking tests? Despite his incredulity, his brain lit up. What other tests could he run? “I can see how it reacts to blood. Also, I have a number of macrophage samples, and several vaccines.” The words tumbled out as if from another person’s mouth and a scientist’s uncluttered, logical mind.

  The voice on the radio purred. “Then you have many things to try, Dr. Ellis.”

  His thoughts snapped back to the thing in the S.E.M. and the test tube sitting on the other side. “I do.” The lifeless words fell from his mouth. “I’ll start on those tests.”

  “Good,” Dr. Moore said. “We’ll be in touch if the situation changes.”

  He opened his mouth to say something else, to protest, to beg her to get him the hell out of here. But in the end, he said nothing. Her tone had the finality of a slamming coffin lid.

  Tests. Those would at least keep him occupied. He rolled away from the S.E.M. and to one of the steel cabinets. The keypad buttons were large and recessed so gloved fingers could easily enter the code. He typed in the five-digit combination, the numbers appearing in bright red on the LED. He double checked them and hit the enter key.

  A lock inside the cabinet clicked. He grabbed the handle and pulled down. A foggy cloud of frigid air escaped the sample refrigerator. Ellis waited for the cloud to clear with a sigh. Through the temperature resistant air-tight suit, he didn’t feel any of the cold air. And as hot as it was inside his suit, he wished he could strip and crawl inside the fridge. No such luck, however.

  He slid a tray out from the fridge and looked at the labels. “Human M1.” “Human M2.” “Chimpanzee M1.” “Chimpanzee M2.” Ellis slid the “Chimpanzee M1” out. He pushed the tray back into the fridge and closed the door. The lock automatically cycled.

  He turned back to the S.E.M. He’d have to create another emulsion and add several drops of the chimp macrophage to the slide before dropping in the black liquid. That meant another encounter with the test tube of that strange and dangerous shit.

  “God hates a coward,” he mumbled.

  Chapter 19

  Only a few minutes had passed since the SWAT team had entered the halls, but she already felt like it had been days. Harrel glanced over at Mathis. He had repositioned himself so he could peer through the top of the transparent glass doors. If the, well, that thing, came back through the hallway, he’d see it coming. She didn’t bother telling him the SWAT team would see it first. Bullets might not stop whatever that thing was, but the gunfire would certainly warn them.

  The SWAT lieutenant was amazingly calm. If nothing else, they had at least one person in the hospital that knew how to keep cool. Harrel sighed. She was disgusted. Her team had trained time and time again for quarantine situations. Hell, they’d been in several already. And at no time did she or her team lose perspective and panic. Today, however, was different.

  Facing down Ebola, Dengue fever, or flesh-eating bacteria was a cinch compared to seeing a goddamned oil slick dissolve people and then grow into some kind of creature from a bad SyFy movie. Didn’t matter. She’d lost her composure. Mathis had lost his. Three of her team members were dead, and a fourth was trapped with a sample of whatever that creature was. Harrel clenched her fists. She wasn’t going to freeze up again. She wasn’t going to panic again. She and Mathis we
re still alive, and if they were going to stay that way, they’d have to start getting their shit together.

  Easier said than done, a voice whispered in her mind. She told it to shut up.

  “Say something?” Mathis asked.

  She looked up at him. “What?”

  “Thought you said something. Your lips moved, but I didn’t hear any sound.”

  A flush of embarrassment colored her cheeks. “You and I need to follow protocols,” she said. “And that means not panicking.”

  Mathis grunted. “Yeah. Right.”

  “I’m serious,” she said.

  “I know.” Mathis looked up again at the glass door. A tall, thickly muscled SWAT team member stood guard outside. “Hope bullets kill that thing.”

  She stopped herself before she said what she was thinking. Those bullets weren’t going to stop shit. The cop’s bullets hadn’t fazed it as far as she could tell. And how the hell would they know anyway? The goddamned thing ate through everything that wasn’t metal or glass. And it moved like, well, it moved like a liquid when it wasn’t a solid. Did it shift between the two states at will?

  Celianne, the SWAT commander, was in one of the operating rooms talking with the doctors and nurses. Their dead patients were going to start stinking up the place in the next couple of hours. If they were still trapped in here, that was going to be bad.

  Are you seriously worrying about dead bodies at a time like this?

  She ignored the voice, even though it was right. This was an incredibly stupid time to worry about anything other than getting out of this place alive. And if they’d quarantined the entire building, there was no guarantee that was even a possibility.

  Dr. Hoyt, the leader for the other CDC first responder team, was no doubt at the HAL facility. With any luck, she was faring better. Without a comm link to the other team, it was impossible to know what they’d discovered, if anything, that could help Harrel and her team.

  She fought back a giggle.

  Mathis looked at her, brows raised.

  She waved a hand. “Nothing.”