Escape the Virus
Page 3
But, today, everyone was headed home. The roads were a nightmare. Bumper-to-bumper traffic. He wasn't even more than a third of the way home, and he was currently wondering whether or not he should shut off his engine to save fuel. It had been at least ten minutes since he'd even moved an inch, and it was beginning to seem as if running out of gas was going to become a real risk.
“You find anything?” muttered Matt.
“Nothing new. Same shit as before.”
Both Matt and Damian were glued to their phones. Damian had his in his lap, and Matt had his resting on the steering wheel.
They were both scanning the news sites, both local and national, looking for anything new.
“Still doesn't seem like they located the others...”
“No, and I don't get how that's even possible. I thought the government was tracking us all on computers and stuff... don't they supposedly know where we are all the time? Not just where we are, but where we're likely to go next, based on analyzing our past data patterns?”
“Yeah, but that's just one government agency. It's not like someone who works for the National Institute of Health is going to have access to that information... shit, my battery's almost dead.”
“Just plug it in.”
Matt reached down to the center console and tried to find the USB cord, but it didn't seem to be there.
“You don't have one, do you? A power cord?”
“Uh, yeah, here...”
Damian reached into his nylon satchel and pulled out a USB power cord. “Here you go,” he said, his eyes already glued back on his own phone.
Matt took it. “Hey,” he said. “This doesn't have an adapter.”
“An adapter? I thought you had one.”
“Nope.”
So Matt had no way to plug his phone in. About ten more minutes, and it would be dead.
Since there might come a point later when he would need to use the phone, he switched it off to conserve the battery, and put it back in his pocket.
He wished that he'd been more prepared. Even something as simple and ordinary as a charger for the car could make a huge difference in a situation like this.
He'd always been the kind of guy who'd had an interest in “gear.” He happened to find flashlights, watches, knives, and guns inherently interesting. And he'd probably spent more hours at work than he should have researching new things that he shouldn't have been spending money on.
The truth was that he'd curbed his spending dramatically in the last year, in an attempt to get completely out of debt. He didn't like the idea of owing anybody anything, so he'd sold most of the overpriced watches and knives he'd bought.
He'd kept just the essentials. A basic mechanical watch, a Seiko diver with a convenient timing bezel. Two knives. One locking folder by a decent brand. A cheap fixed-blade knife from a reliable Swiss company. And a Victorinox multi-tool, which had been an expensive present from his parents about ten years ago.
He also owned a Glock, as well as a couple of small flashlights that he powered with rechargeable AA batteries. He liked rechargeable batteries because they didn't leak as much as the standard alkaline batteries. He liked flashlights that took standard AA-size batteries, rather than something esoteric, because in a pinch, AA batteries were easier to find in a regular store.
Of course, all that gear was at his apartment. The office had a strict no-knife policy, which he'd already broken once by mistake. He'd been called into his boss's office and told quite severely that he'd be let go if he broke the “no weapons” policy once more.
Since Matt couldn't afford to lose his job, he'd had to swallow his sense of practicality and leave the knives at home.
He'd been meaning, for quite a while, to put some kind of a car kit together. But he hadn't wanted to spend the money buying anything new again, and somehow he just hadn't gotten around to it.
So all he had with him was his almost-dead cell phone and the small flashlight that never left his pocket. It put out about 15 lumens, which was enough to see at night, although not very far.
But who knew how useful the flashlight would be. Matt couldn't remember the last time he'd replaced or charged the battery, and for all he knew, he had less than half an hour of light left.
“Hey,” said Damian. “Check that out.”
“What?”
“Up there. That red car.”
The traffic was still bumper to bumper. Still completely stopped.
The red car was an SUV. Some kind of late '90s Jeep, by the looks of it. It was four cars in front of them.
Looking through the other cars, Matt could see that there was some kind of commotion going on inside the red Jeep.
“What are they doing?”
“Looks like a dance party,” said Damian.
It definitely wasn't a dance party. But it was hard to make out exactly what was happening. The Jeep's rear window was tinted just enough to make it difficult to really see clearly.
“Are they fighting?”
“Kind of looks like it.”
There were at least two bodies moving around rapidly. Maybe three. Hard to say.
Limbs were flailing around. Arms and legs.
Suddenly, one of the rear doors of the Jeep flew open.
A man fell out of the Jeep. His limbs flailed as he fell.
Because of the angle, Matt had a clear look at the man, who fell right on his head.
“What the...?” muttered Damian. “Did they just throw him out?”
The Jeep door was pulled shut by someone inside the Jeep, hard enough that it slammed audibly.
The man who'd been thrown from the Jeep lay there on the ground.
But he didn't lie still. His arms and legs kept moving in a fast-paced jittery kind of way.
“Something's going on with that guy,” said Damian unhelpfully.
There was blood on the man's head. And at first, Matt assumed it was blood from an injury sustained in the fall.
But as the seconds passed, and as the man kept flailing, Matt began to see that the blood was actually coming from the man's mouth and nose. And it seemed that he'd hit the back of his head on the road when he'd fallen.
“Something's wrong with that guy,” said Matt. “Come on, we've got to help him. He could be having a seizure.”
Matt's hand was already on the door handle before Damian responded.
“Help him? Are you kidding me?”
Something about the way Damian said it gave Matt pause, and he didn't open the door.
“Why not? Why shouldn't we help him?”
“Have you forgotten what's going on? Have you forgotten why we're stuck here in traffic? Well, I haven't. I haven't just been messing around on my phone. I've been reading the symptoms of this virus... Hemorrhaging... that means blood coming out of the orifices...”
“Oh, shit,” muttered Matt, as the realization that Damian was right sunk in. “So that means that he could...”
“Be contaminated. Exactly. My guess is that's why they threw him out. He started experiencing symptoms, the other people in the car realized what was going on and decided to protect themselves.”
“But it wouldn't have done any good,” said Matt. “They'd already be contaminated. That's what they're saying, right? That there's a two-day “silent” period in which the virus is highly contagious but shows no signs.”
“That's what they're still saying online, yeah,” said Damian.
“This isn't good,” said Matt.
It was a huge understatement.
Matt took his hand off the door handle, and instead he hit the button that locked all the doors at once.
Next, Matt flipped the lever over that controlled whether or not the cabin air would receive fresh air from the outside or recirculate. “I hope this control actually works,” said Matt.
“What, you think it's contagious from back here? We're like four cars back...”
“No idea,” said Matt. “But I don't want to take any chances.”
It really did look like the man was having some kind of seizure. Except for the blood that didn't stop coming from his nose and mouth. And possibly his ears as well. Matt couldn't tell.
“Do you think we're OK?” said Matt.
“What do you mean? Whether or not we could get contaminated by that guy?”
“That, but also... what if we're already contaminated and we don't know it... what if someone in the office went to get coffee before work and brushed up against someone who'd been on that plane from Beijing?”
“Yup,” said Damian. “And in that case we'd be screwed.”
Matt kept waiting for Damian to say more, but he remained silent.
“So that's your answer? That we'd be screwed?”
“Well, but... yeah... hear me out... we're not going to do anything different, are we? We've still got to try to make it.”
“You mean try to survive?”
“Exactly.”
“Hey,” said Matt. “Check it out. The guy's getting up.”
The man on the ground had stopped flopping around. And, in fact, he was getting to his feet. He managed to stand up, albeit very shakily.
“Maybe he's OK after all,” said Damian. “Yeah, you know what? I bet we got all worked up about this virus. I bet it's something else entirely.” Damian gave a shallow, unconvincing little laugh. It was as if he really didn't want to believe the reality of the virus.
Then the man turned around so that Matt and Damian had a full-on view of his face.
It was a horrific sight.
There was blood everywhere. Blood flowing freely from his nose, some of it getting into his mouth, from which blood was coming as well.
Blood was indeed coming from his ears. Quite freely.
His eyes were bulging out, protruding from their sockets.
His face looked somehow very gaunt, as if he were a man who'd lost too much weight too quickly, as a result of some incredible physical or emotional stress.
“Shit...” muttered Damian, his voice trailing off into nothing.
Matt's heart had started to pound again, and it felt like his body was on the verge of breaking into a cold sweat.
Hearing about the terrifying potential of the virus was one thing. Thinking about it was one thing.
Seeing its effects were quite another.
The contaminated man took a single, shaking step forward. His arms were at his sides, shaking, and it seemed as if he was trying to keep his balance.
“He's coming this way,” said Damian. “This isn't good, Matt. What do we do?”
Matt said nothing. He was thinking. Thinking through possibilities.
The man took another shaky step.
The car immediately in front of Matt's car suddenly turned on. The driver was apparently terrified of the approaching man, and wanted to do anything he could to get out of the way.
“There's nowhere for him to go,” said Damian. “What does he think he's doing?”
It was a mid-sized standard sort of SUV. Blue in color. One of those SUVs that looked like it might not actually be built on a truck chassis.
“He's backing up,” said Matt.
The SUV started to inch backwards. But there were only a couple inches between the SUV and Matt's car.
Next thing they knew, the SUV suddenly jerked backwards.
It slammed into Matt's car, making his head jerk forward.
“What the...?”
The SUV now jerked forward, slamming into the car in front of it.
Apparently the driver's plan was to smash his way out.
But no matter how much he smashed into Matt's car, or any others, he wasn't getting out.
It was bumper to bumper. There was simply no room to drive.
The sidewalk was a narrow little affair, and there was no shoulder. The lane with the oncoming traffic was bumper to bumper as well. There was no way an emergency vehicle could make its way through, and there was definitely no room for anyone who wanted to make a break for it.
If Matt wanted to get out of there, he was going to have to do it on foot, leaving his car behind.
“This isn't good,” Damian was saying, his voice rising. He was getting more and more upset. “This guy's nuts...”
Once again, the SUV smashed backwards into Matt's car.
But for once, Matt wasn't remotely concerned about the damage to his car.
Bigger things were at stake.
The sick man hadn't stopped walking. The blood from his face hadn't stopped flowing. He was approaching the wild-driving SUV as if he didn't see it.
“What do you think?” said Matt, knowing he was about to have to make a quick decision. “What increases our risk of contamination more? Having this guy walk right next to our car... possibly spitting on the window, spitting blood on the car for all I know... or getting out now and making a run for it?”
Damian said nothing, but they exchanged a look. It was clear that neither of them really knew the answer. Damian knew so little that he didn't even bother responding.
If they'd already been contaminated without their knowledge, then it was all a moot point.
But as long as Matt still seemed to be uncontaminated, he was going to do everything he could to stay alive.
He just wished that he knew what it was that would increase his chances of survival.
The SUV in front of him slammed into his car again. This time, it pushed it backwards into the car behind them, the driver of which held down on the horn.
The contaminated man was getting closer.
Matt only had mere seconds to decide.
His heart was slamming around in his chest.
This might be the most important decision he'd ever had to make.
4
Jamie
Jamie and Mia were sitting next to each other at the back of one of the school buses that were driving in tandem.
The last time Jamie had ridden a school bus, she'd been in elementary school, and one of the benches had been big enough to seat three kids. Now, three people to a bench seemed like a complete impossibility, as she and Mia were quite cramped for space, although neither one of them could be called anything but average-sized.
The buses were trundling slowly down roads with heavy traffic. At various intersections, Jamie looked out the window to see streets that were packed bumper-to-bumper with cars, completely unmoving.
Apparently they were headed towards a large convention center, where they'd be housed along with many others until the virus crisis was over.
“There's a hashtag now on Twitter for the Albuquerque convention center,” Mia was saying. “We're not the only ones going there... not by a long shot.”
“It just doesn't make any sense,” said Jamie.
“What doesn't?”
“The fact that they're taking a bunch of us and putting us all together in the same place? Aren't we dealing with a super contagious, super deadly virus here? How is this going to stop contamination? If anything, it's going to make it worse. In close quarters, it's only going to take one sick person to make everyone sick. And by the time they get sick...”
“...it'll be too late,” said Mia, finishing her sentence for her. “And everyone will be dead.”
“Exactly.”
“So what are you thinking?”
“I'm thinking that we don't want to end up at this convention center. The odds of getting sick there just seem too high.”
“They're just trying to help us,” said a man in front of her, turning around. He had an annoying sort of face, and eyeglasses that had slid about halfway down his nose.
Jamie completely ignored him. Instead, she kept her eyes focused on Mia, speaking only to her. “We've got to get out of here,” she said. “I don't want to wind up there. It could be the end.”
“You
know,” said Mia. “Some people are talking about that online... that it might not be a good idea to put everyone who might have been contaminated together in one place... sharing bedding and food and water...”
“And what are they doing about it?”
“Nothing. No one has even suggested not going. After all, it's what we're supposed to do.”
“Well, I'm not like everyone else,” said Jamie. “And in times like this, that can be a good thing.”
It was true. Jamie wasn't like everyone else. They'd been telling her she was too headstrong for her own good since the first grade. She'd never paid it any attention, whether it had come from friends, teachers, or parents, and had just continued to do things the way that she'd wanted to.
“In times like these,” said the man, who was turned around so much he wasn't really in his seat any longer. “It's important to listen to those in positions of authority.”
This annoyed Jamie.
She turned to him. “Why don't you mind your own business?” she said.
“There's no need to speak to me like that,” he said, looking far more offended than the words seem to call for.
“Like hell there isn't,” said Jamie. “We're having a private conversation here. Mind your own business.”
“But this concerns all of us,” said the man. “We're all in this together.”
“Look, buddy,” said Jamie, laying on what she'd called her “scary face” in the past. “Turn around before I make things difficult for you.”
Her “scary face” really did look scary.
And the thing was, it wasn't just for show. When things had gotten difficult at various times in her life, Jamie knew how to give her enemies a hard time.
The guy caught one look at her and turned right around, falling silent.
Mia giggled. “I remember when you did that to that regional manager who was giving you a hard time,” she said.
“Come on. Let's figure out what to do.”
“Well, what do you think?”
“I think we need to get off before we even get there.”
“Why? Let's just wait and see what it looks like. You know how sometimes things seem like they're going to be worse than they really end up being.”