“I never really thought that I was a prepper or a survivalist but, when I took a good look at my plans, I realized that a prepper is exactly what I was.”
He leaned forward in his chair. “I had spent all this time planning a fortress of sorts in case civilization disintegrated. Yeah, I knew such a thing was unrealistic, but I just enjoyed thinking about the challenges such a situation would present and then coming up with solutions. It was an entertaining hobby and, most importantly, it didn’t cost me anything.
“So…I started visiting the computer sites of preppers and survivalists. It was all in fun, of course. There were a few kooks on there who preached the end of the world and stuff like that but, really, the great majority of us were simply having a good time. The prepper sites had some valuable information, and I adopted many of their recommendations into my plans for Dragon’s Lair.”
Sharon had been taking a drink, but she swallowed early and held up a finger. “I’m sorry…Dragon’s Lair?”
Dan looked a little embarrassed. “Yeah. All of the sites advised that you have a code name for your survival getaways since the use of addresses or city names was unwise. That way no one could figure out where you were and try to come and take it away from you.” He used a fingernail to peel the damp label from his beer as he talked. “So there I was. Thirty-five years old, working sixty hours a week and the plans for my imaginary fortress is finally finished. After years of planning and refining, I was done with it.
“I was in line at the supermarket and wondering what else I could do to occupy my time when I looked over and spotted a Lottery machine. It had a video loop playing, and one of the screens showed that the lottery jackpot was over two hundred million dollars. Now, you have to understand, I have never played the lottery in my life, but as I stood there in line, I started to think about what I could do with that much money. I knew Virgil deserved more than what I could give him and…well, to tell the truth…I was tired. Bone tired.
“So, I thought, what the hell? At the very least I could fantasize for the rest of the week because someone was going to win all that money and it just might be me. I bought one ticket. One ticket, the first lottery ticket I had ever purchased.”
Sharon was fascinated. “And you won.”
Dan nodded with a big smile on his face. “Can you believe I drove around with that ticket in my wallet for three weeks before I finally scanned it on the same lottery machine that had convinced me to buy it? I held the ticket under the laser reader, and the machine did nothing for several seconds. Then big letters started flashing across the screen. They said ‘Jackpot Winner.’”
Dan grinned and leaned back in his chair to stretch his arms over his head before realizing his pits were damp and quickly lowering them. “I’m not exaggerating at all when I say I almost passed out right there in the store.” He shrugged and took another sip. “The rest, as they say, is history. I discovered there was very little you cannot do when you have an obscene amount of money at your disposal. I took my plans to a big contractor in Fresno and told him I wanted this place up and running within a year. He started telling me about overtime pay and inspections and zoning, things like that. I told him to get it done and send me a bill. I made donations to all of the local and state politicians. My congressman got a hefty slice as did my Senators. As a result, my building permits were issued in record time. Long story short; you really can do pretty much what you want if you have enough money.”
Sharon had her chin on her fist and her elbow on the table. She smiled as she shook her head. “That’s an amazing story.”
“Yeah. The money was certainly a blessing. Now, that money is going to help people survive this terrible situation.” His expression changed, and he leaned forward again. “Speaking of surviving…how would you feel about staying here with us? We have electricity, food, clean water and…plenty of beer.” He looked her directly in the eye and flashed a shy smile. “We’d like you to stay with us. I would like you to stay!”
Sharon met his gaze. “Is this a trick question?”
Chapter 10
I got up early and took my shower. The smell of bacon pulled me to the kitchen, and I saw Pops there along with Buck, Jimmy, the Major, Jaime and Sharon, our new friend. She was wearing a long robe that I had seen Emma wearing before. I guessed the garment had been donated to the doctor because she had nothing but the clothes on her back when we found her.
I said ‘Hi’ to everyone. I was disappointed to see Pepper and her family were not up yet, but that didn’t deter me from accepting a plate of eggs, bacon, salsa and a big toasted bagel from Myrna. She had assumed morning cooking duties, and she was good at it. Everyone was in a great mood. Sharon told us George was feeling better and could go back down the hill on the next day barring any signs of infection.
Doctor Tashnizi had entered the room while she was telling us about his recovery. He took a plate of food from Myrna and sat at the bar instead of joining us at the table. He sneered at Sharon as she talked and finally interrupted her.
“Did it ever occur to you, Doctor, that the patient might contract the Rage virus? After all, an infected person bit him several times.” He had placed extra emphasis on the word ‘Doctor.’
Sharon was eating as she talked and she did not stop while she answered. “He won’t contract any virus because the Rage is not a virus-borne illness.”
Everyone, myself included, stopped what we were doing and stared. Sharon frowned at the attention, finished chewing her food and swallowed.
“You don’t know? Right before the internet went down, I was E-mailing my friends at the hospital, just staying in touch. They told me the CDC discovered that the Rage sickness is a bacterial infection.” She noticed that she held our undivided attention and continued. “The story I got was that the CDC in Atlanta, along with our CIA, had been able to determine that the bacteria had been artificially created. Someone or some group in either Iran or Iraq designed and developed it as a weapon. The identity of the actual groups which funded the research and created the disease was unclear, but we can all pretty much guess who they were. All indications are that they combined the modified bacteria with altered prions, similar to those which caused the mad cow disease. It was designed to spread quickly throughout a population, then die out after a few weeks. After all, it did the intending conquerors no good to occupy a country that still had deadly bacteria floating around.” She put her fork on the plate and pushed it away from her. “The CIA suspected that the plan was to wipe most of us out then waltz in and take over the country. In one move they would remove their most powerful enemies and create a new world, one in which they would be in total control.”
“Unfortunately for them, the bacteria got out by accident and spread through the Middle East first, then throughout the planet. Sharon took a sip of coffee and looked around. “Anyway, that was the last thing my friends heard from the CDC. I tried to re-establish contact with them the next day, but the internet was down.”
There was a rush of questions for her, way too many to answer at once and Pops finally got everyone quiet. He had a slight frown on his face, and he gently probed her for more information.
“So, Sharon, you’re saying this plague was manmade?”
Sharon now felt a little self-conscious with everyone hanging on to her every word. She had assumed that all of the information regarding the Rage sickness had already been disseminated to the general public.
She took another sip of her coffee, finding it tepid. “Yes, that’s what my colleagues told me. Whoever developed it had obviously evil intentions, but they weren’t entirely stupid. The Rage was designed to infect about eight-tenths of the population. Some of the survivors of the sickness would be killed off by the infected, leaving just enough healthy people to be enslaved and forced to restore civilization. The CDC said the infected were probably expected to die off within a few weeks from starvation since their ravaged brains would not retain the ability to find or produce food.”
/> Buck snorted. “Somebody forgot to tell the infected. From what I can see, they’re thriving.”
It was true. We had been to town several times now and had not seen any evidence of their numbers falling substantially, although we had observed some dead bodies lying around.
We had forgotten about Tashnizi until he treated us to another of his customary sneers. “Really Doctor Beeker? Just how would these insights into the development of the Rage have been obtained? I find it doubtful that any country or independent group would purposely develop and unleash something so devastating upon the world. What would they hope to gain? A dead world?”
The Major interjected. “That’s exactly what they would hope for, at least some of them. I have been in many countries in my career, and you’d be shocked at the things some people want to happen to our planet. There are whole organizations out there which advocate humanity dying off and leaving the planet to the animals. Some religions preach that the only way they can successfully implement their vision of a perfect world is by the near-total destruction of humankind, leaving their true believers unharmed, of course. But I’m not convinced that was the plan in this instance.” He shoved his empty plate away and folded his arms on the tabletop. “When people start playing with nature, sometimes nature has a different game in mind. We’ve had pandemics in the past that cost the lives of millions if not billions of people. That was nature when left to its own purposes. When evil people try poking into diseases with the intention of making them into weapons, it is conceivable they could be more successful than they ever intended.”
Sharon was listening and nodding her head in agreement. “True. The CIA believed the release of the bug was an accident. That would explain why the outbreaks started in the Middle East. There were many biological labs known to exist there, and they weren’t seeking a cure for cancer. My best guess is that someone zigged when they should have zagged and the bacteria got out and did more damage than it was supposed to do.”
“I still don’t understand how it was able to get into so many countries without being detected and steps being taken to stop the spread,” Pops stated.
Sharon shrugged. “Some of the doctors at my hospital theorized that it lies mostly dormant for weeks in a newly-infected host while being passed from person to person through touches, kisses, sexual contact, coughs, and sneezes. Infected people flying from the Middle East to other major cities in the world passed the disease along to others through casual contact, and they, in turn, infected others. The rate of infection was staggering but not out of line with past pandemics. The difference now is how quickly people can move from one country to another, spreading infection along the way.”
That information sobered everyone’s mood. I was about to ask Sharon a question when Pepper’s father came racing into the kitchen wearing his vest and carrying his rifle. The man had been on guard duty with Gayle.
“I think you all need to see this,” he said excitedly while pointing in the direction of Clovis. “There’s a small war happening out there.”
We all jumped up and ran to the front gate. It was true, the sounds of battle had been blocked from our ears within the walls of Dragon’s Lair but were obvious out here.
The Major snatched a pair of binoculars from around Gayle’s neck and trained them on the small town below. “Small arms fire so far. No artillery.” He looked up at Gayle. “Any explosions?”
Gayle shook her head. The Major resumed searching for the source of the battle noises. “No grenades so far then. There…!” He held the binoculars with one hand and pointed west with the other. “Over by the Costco but more south and west.”
My heart jumped. “That’s near where Marcus and his people live.”
Pops was already moving, heading for the house. “Major, you call this one. We need to give them support.”
The Major never hesitated, stepping into his customary role as a military officer. “I need Jimmy and Virgil to grab our M-240s from the armory and load them into the vehicles. Then go back down and grab all the ammo you can carry, at least five thousand rounds for each one. Buck, you grab one of the RBGs, I’ll take the other. Bring us all the high explosive and incendiary rounds you can find.”
He was shouting additional orders to the others, but I didn’t wait around to hear them. I sprinted down the stairs to the armory where Jimmy was already opening the lock and throwing the doors wide. He crossed the floor quickly and tossed me one M-240 while shouldering the other one. We raced each other up the stairs, separating at the door with him heading to the Suburban and me the Bronco. After I had stashed my weapon in the back with the barrel poking out over the tailgate, I rushed back inside. I was already dashing up the stairs with my shoulders draped with ammo belts and an armful of loaded magazines when Jimmy passed me on his way back down. I came out into the bright sunshine of the compound and walked past Pepper who was standing by the wall, trying to see the action below us.
“Please be careful, Virgil,” she shouted.
“I plan to be,” I answered, hoping it sounded brave.
Pops was standing by the driver’s side door of the Bronco with one ear plugged by his finger, and the other one held up next to one of our walkies. He was shouting and squinting as he struggled to hear what was being said. Several of our people were gathered around him. I wanted to listen to the conversation also, but I knew my responsibility was the M-240. I dumped my heavy burden on the floorboard and headed back inside for another load. I came back up with an armful that was similar in size to the first one as well as a tripod. I dumped that batch on top of the others and used my legs to push me a path to get in and sit. I laid the belts out straight behind me and stacked up the loaded hundred round mags against the wheel well where I could get to them quickly. I did a quick assessment of what was happening and decided on using a magazine instead of a belt. I felt the chances were high that I would need to leave the Bronco and seek cover or a better firing position.
With all that done, I finally felt safe in heading back where Pops was finishing up his radio conversation with the people down below.
“Okay,” Pops yelled so we could all hear him. “That was Marcus. They are being attacked on three sides. They don’t know who it is, but they don’t think it’s the Mojado idiots. He said these guys seem much more organized and competent. Marcus’ people have been able to keep their attacker's heads down with sniper fire. The snipers have also kept the bad guys at a distance, but they are slowly working themselves closer. Marcus thinks they plan to wait until they have everyone close enough and then begin a three-pronged rush attack.”
The Major cursed and yelled back at Pops. “Marcus is right in his assessment of these guys. Those tactics strike me as military. Let me have the radio, Dan.”
Pops passed him the walkie, and I could hear him giving Marcus advice. Pops continued advising us. “The Major thinks there is a very low possibility that this might be a ploy to lure us out of hiding and attack the compound once we’re down the hill. He doesn’t think that’s the case, but his training and experience lead him to insist that we leave people here to stand guard against such an eventuality.”
His voice went hoarse, and Sharon passed him a bottle of water which he swigged, then continued. “I’m leaving Jaime, Myrna, Kent and Toni, Gayle, Pepper and the two doctors here. Sharon has advised me that George is not yet strong enough to accompany us, but he should be able to sit at the wall with a rifle and help keep watch while we’re gone. Emma will be in charge of the compound until we return. That’s because of her military expertise. They will be in constant radio contact with us in case they come under attack.
“As you heard, Virgil and I will be in the Bronco with one of the machine guns. Buck will ride with us and handle the grenade launcher. Jimmy and Marie will be in the Suburban. Marie will drive, and Jimmy will handle the other machine gun with the Major operating the other RBG.”
The Major finished his conversation with Marcus and raised both hands over his he
ad to get our attention. “Marcus says one of the three attacking groups is trying to reach them by coming from the east through the backyards and over fences, trying to get in close. His snipers are making them pay for that. He reports taking out a dozen or more of them so far, and the ones who are left have hunkered down, waiting for their buddies to make a move.
“A second group is using Shields Avenue to try and push towards them from the west. They tried rushing Marcus’ position using cars and trucks but, again, the snipers were successful. They used their hunting rifles to pick off the drivers from three or four hundred yards away, causing most of them to crash.”
A brief cheer went up from our people, and I was surprised to realize that I was the one who started it. The Major used a professional frown to tell me not to interrupt him.
“The last prong of these attackers is coming at them from the north using Fowler Avenue. These guys are the ones that have Marcus worried. They’re sneaking up on foot, using cars and houses to mask their movements. His snipers are trying to keep their heads down, but they aren’t hitting a lot of them because of the availability of cover. Marcus thinks that once these guys get close enough he will have to use most of his firepower just to keep them away and that will enable the other two groups to move up. Marcus thinks they can hold out for another half hour or so, but he’s pretty sure he will eventually be overrun.”
The Major stood ramrod straight and put both hands behind his back while he looked at us. “We are not going to let that happen. These people are our friends and allies, and we have an obligation to them. Dan and his Bronco will take up position on Fowler Avenue by Shaw. When I give the word, they will move south and engage the people trying to infiltrate Marcus’ position on foot.” He pointed at Pops. “That will be the most dangerous part of this, Dan. Those guys will be all around you, probably shooting at you from behind cars and around houses. They’ll have lots of cover. Our chances of success will depend on you keeping them engaged until we can achieve our objectives.
Virgil's War- The Diseased World Page 16