by Hunter Shea
Not my problem.
The doctors walked and sat in perfect synchronicity, right down to crossing their right legs over their left. Dr. Greene unbuttoned his suit jacket. Dr. Ling worked at the crease in her dress pants.
“Care for a drink? We have everything from water to the hard stuff.” Dan opened the fridge, ready to grab a couple of waters.
“It’s been a long day. You have any beer?” Dr. Ling asked to Don’s utter shock.
“Do you have any coffee?” Dr. Greene said, unfazed by his partner’s choice in beverage.
“We have one of those one-cup coffeemakers. I’ll whip one up for you.”
He got a beer for Dr. Ling and one for himself. The coffee was ready a couple of minutes later. Don sat in a captain’s chair opposite them and leaned back, taking a sip from the sweat-beaded bottle.
“So, what did you hear from Director Bunker?”
Dr. Greene said, “He called us in the early morning and said there was a potential viral outbreak at a hospital in the Hamptons. We flew up immediately and met our local response team. The hospital has been in lockdown since this afternoon. There were some very unfortunate events that, from every earmark, indicate a deadly contagion has been introduced to this area. Some of our best doctors are on the scene.” He put his coffee down and sat forward, leaning his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together. “Now here’s my concern. I have a strong suspicion someone knows exactly what this is and hasn’t been totally honest with us. One of my response teams was met by a representative from DARPA. He’s been with them ever since, even causing a bit of a scene at the recovery of a body, a local policeman, I’ve been told. When I inquired why we had to integrate with DARPA, I was instructed to speak to you.”
Don took a long, slow sip of his beer. He could tell Dr. Greene was a man who always got his way. He pegged him for a God complex multiplied by ten. And judging by the look in his eyes and body language, God was ready to smite any puny human who got in his way.
“Our colleagues and friends are running a quarantine, exposed to a potentially fatal infection at this very moment,” Dr. Ling added. “There are thousands of people packed in a very tight space. The military and their weapons and technology development team aren’t talking. Someone is coordinating everything and knows more than they’ve let on. So you can see why we’re concerned.”
“I’m just as concerned,” Don said. “No one could take this job without public safety being their number one priority.” If he sounded defensive, he wasn’t concerned. He didn’t like what they were implying. “I can assure you, if someone knows more about what’s been going on here, that someone isn’t me.”
“Then what, exactly, do you know?” Dr. Greene asked.
“FEMA isn’t exactly in the practice of deploying itself for infectious diseases.”
There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Don shifted in his chair, the leather making a racket.
“I didn’t know there was going to be a contagion,” he finally said. “The NSA contacted us last night. The cat’s already out of the bag on them, so I’m sure you’re well aware of their extensive monitoring program, from news wires to phones calls, e-mails and web searches. It’s a ton of white noise to try to filter information out, but it’s made easier when they’re given a target.”
Dr. Ling put her beer down, uncrossed and crossed her legs, studying him like he was some kind of bacteria on a slide under a microscope. For all her unexpected hotness, she could be damn unsettling.
He continued. “The Department of Homeland Security, our current boss, also runs the Plum Island research facility.”
“The CDC has consulted with succeeding directors at Plum Island over the years,” Dr. Greene interrupted. A prescient awareness dawned in his eyes. “That explains the contagion. Why on earth wouldn’t you put us directly in touch with the doctors at Plum Island when we arrived? If they’ve been working on a particular disease, their assistance will be invaluable.”
Don raised a hand to cut him off. “I agree. But it’s not so cut-and-dry. About a week ago, Plum Island went dark. The entire facility had been dedicated to a high-level, classified project for the military. They were close to a breakthrough. Every single person who worked on the island was ferried in a month ago. No one was to leave until their mission was complete. Not hearing from them for a few days wasn’t unusual. With this particular project, they were required to give briefings twice a week with the director of Homeland Security and members of the committee driving their research. Sometimes, even the President would be present. When they missed the first briefing last week, it was assumed they were engrossed in their work, maybe holding back until they had a larger picture to paint. When they missed the second briefing, people in high places got concerned. They asked the NSA to focus on the lab, this area and the families of Plum Island personnel.”
He finished his beer and tossed the empty into the sink. It clattered and popped out, rolling across the floor.
“What did they find?” Dr. Ling asked.
Don shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing. Like I said, the place went dark. No communications going in or out. The powers that be thought that maybe there’d been a power outage. The backup generators on the island were supposed to have been replaced twenty years ago, after a hurricane slammed the island. No one could count on those.”
Dr. Greene looked alarmed and highly irritated. “You mean to tell me they have a facility only a mile from a densely populated coast that is filled with deadly viruses and no reliable power backup? That’s gross incompetence bordering on homicidal.”
“You work for the government, doctor. This shouldn’t surprise you.”
“It doesn’t so much surprise as it sickens me.”
Rising from the couch, Dr. Ling paced between them. She said, “So if the power went out, all of the cooling systems would have gone off-line. Any airborne virus could easily escape containment once a certain temperature is reached. From there, it’s easy enough to slip through ventilation systems and be carried on the winds, or in the water current.” She chewed on the tip of her thumbnail. “It could also easily be another Lyme disease screwup. Flying insects could bring any one of those viruses to Long Island and Connecticut.”
“We don’t think bugs are doing it,” Don said.
Dr. Ling stopped pacing, turned and stood over him. “Then what is?”
Don cleared his throat. “It’s an animal. Or, I should say, animals.”
“Deer and dogs are good swimmers. They could easily make the trip,” Dr. Ling surmised.
“I wish it was that easy. We didn’t realize we were dealing with two major issues until we got here. These animals, they’re not exactly something you’ll find in nature.” He looked at his watch. It was after nine. “And as for DARPA, your guess is as good as mine. I don’t like them being here any more than you do. I know how they work. No one would even know them if they stood nose to nose. They’re goddamn ghosts, bad omens, a government-sanctioned secret society. Even my boss is keeping his mouth shut when I bring them up. If I knew why they were here, I’d use my psychic powers to win the lottery.” Looking out the port window in the door to Dr. Greene’s right, he saw nothing but darkness. “From here on in, you’ll need a military escort.”
“What?” the doctors said in unison.
“It’s for your safety. That’s everything I know. I have my own people working their keisters off trying to ferret out more intel. I don’t like this any more than you.” He suddenly wished he’d never given up smoking. He’d kill for a cigarette right about now. “We need you to work on whatever ultimately killed those people. It appears that everyone who would know what we’re dealing with is dead. A team of SEALS is out at Plum Island gathering all of the information they can. The place holds fifty years of research and notes, so it’ll be like diving for needles in haystacks.” All of the air and energy left him like he was a slashed tire tube. “If this gets out any further, I don’t even want to think about what will
come next.”
CHAPTER 30
Jason’s first great idea was to move the party from the beach to Money Pond. It was a bit of a hike through the state park to get there, but he was positive it would be police free. He’d always been fascinated by the small lake when he was younger. Money Pond was supposedly one of the places where the infamous Captain Kidd deposited his treasure. Gardiner’s Island just off the coast was a definitive location for some of Kidd’s booty. The Gardiner family, who had been threatened by Kidd to conceal his cache under penalty of death, was said to have delivered all of it to the court during the captain’s ill-fated trial. Rumors had been circulating for centuries that not all of it had been turned in. Plenty of people went there every year in search of any that may have been left behind.
Jason still thought about taking scuba lessons so he could plumb the murky Money Pond and waters around Gardiner’s Island himself one day. Even finding a handful of treasure would be enough for him and Tom to start their own publishing company, and they wouldn’t have to fight the uphill battle to get their comics and books in readers’ hands.
Tom, who had been staring at the keg sitting on the porch like it was a girlfriend about to board a plane to Zambia, said, “We can’t go there.”
“Why not?”
“We’d have to wear jeans and long-sleeve shirts. It’s frigging hot and humid. I’m not going to sweat my balls off, and neither are the girls.”
Pounding the arm of the couch with his first, Jason let out a string of expletives. “I swear to Christ, I hate fucking ticks.”
Montauk was tick—and therefore, Lyme Disease—central. They’d known plenty of people who had gotten it over the years and it wasn’t pretty. Everyone lived in fear of ticks. That’s why late-night parties were best done at the beach, where there were fewer ticks.
“Dude, it was a good idea. We could have gone crazy out there and no one would have even heard us.” He patted his friend on the shoulder and handed him a smoldering joint.
Jason took a hit, leaned back and closed his eyes, deep in thought.
“Look,” Tom said, “we could scale the whole thing down. I’ll ask Annie to bring her cousins over here and we’ll have some fun.”
“And leave out Skeets?”
“Okay, we can have Skeets over, too.”
“If Skeets comes, you know we also have to let Greg and Tim over, too.”
Tom rolled his eyes. “And before you know it, everyone will be here trashing my house. Forget it. Just us and the girls. I’m sure everyone will understand. This whole town is in, like, lockdown.”
Jason smiled and grabbed his cell phone. “Start texting everyone. We’re going to Highland Beach.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Yes, but that’s beside the point. We’ll have a beach, privacy and it’ll be tick free.”
“No shit, Jay. And we’ll all be drunk and dead within an hour.”
Jason’s fingers flew across his phone’s screen. “We’ll be fine. There’ll be a bunch of us. If someone gets stuck in quicksand, we’ll have plenty of people to pull them out.”
Tom sighed, staring at his own phone. Highland Beach had been closed to the public for as long as he could remember. It was way too dangerous. He and Jason had done some exploring there when they were in high school. Using a very long stick as a guide, they’d managed to steer clear of the quicksand, but it was everywhere. One wrong move and you were in serious shit. It was the only beach the police wouldn’t have bothered to patrol. No one went there, especially at night.
Tonight, they were about to be the exception to the rule.
As Mickey Conrad turned into the station’s lot, Dalton said, “Thanks, Mick. I owe you a steak for this one.”
“It’s gonna cost you Morton’s,” he replied, smiling.
“Unless Campos suspends you. Then you won’t be able to afford it.”
Inside, the station house was empty. Everyone was on duty and on the streets. Even Sergeant Campos’s office was dark.
“This is just eerie,” Meredith said, taking in row upon row of empty desks. Phones rang with no one to answer them. They would be diverted to an emergency phone center after four rings.
“You’re in luck,” Mickey said. “No one’s around to drill you a new asshole.”
“I have to see if Captain Hammerlich is here,” she said. Mickey shot Dalton a look, warning him to disavow Meredith of her intention.
Dalton gave a slight shake of his head. He was with Meredith on this one. They knew what was out there and it would be a crime not to tell the captain.
“Suit yourselves,” Mickey said. “I’m going back out. I’m sure I’ll see you at some point.”
When he left, Meredith started walking to Hammerlich’s office with Dalton in tow. It was in the rear of the building, some distance from the normal madness. His door was closed, the opaque glass revealing little. They could tell the light was on, but he often left without shutting out his light.
“You don’t have to do this with me,” she said, her closed fist pausing at the wooden frame. “With my current status, they’ll just push me into early retirement. But you have a whole lot of good years ahead of you.”
There was no way he was going to let her go this alone. In reply, he knocked urgently on the captain’s door.
They heard the casters on his chair squeak, then heavy footsteps. The door flew open. Captain Darren Hammerlich was a tall, wiry man with hard eyes and a cleft chin that looked like it’d been cleaved with a hatchet. He looked ten years younger than his fifty-five years and could outbox any man on the force who dared to step into the ring with him at the gym. He didn’t look happy to see them.
Framed, signed pictures of Mike Tyson, Joe Frazier, Evander Holyfield and even one of once-governor Jesse Ventura lined the wall behind the captain’s desk.
“Dalton, why aren’t you on patrol, and Hernandez, you were supposed to be at your desk hours ago. If I hear those GD phones ring one more time I might throw them all out the window.”
Dalton steeled himself. This wasn’t going to be easy. Meredith stood her ground, her knuckles white from squeezing the folder. Some of the pictures she’d printed up had started to slide out one end.
“Sir, if you don’t mind, we need to speak to you.”
He waved her off, turning his back on them. “I don’t have time to listen to excuses. Just get to work. I’ll deal with you both later.” He sat down and pulled up to his desk, engrossed in whatever was on his computer monitor.
They followed him inside, Dalton shutting the door.
Hammerlich looked up with a withering glare. “Have you both lost your minds?”
Dalton spoke up. “We thought so, at first. But we have to show you something. We think we know what’s going on.”
He studied them for an interminable length of time, folding his arms across his chest. Dalton met his gaze. If he wasn’t so sure of himself, of the evidence, he knew he would have caved and hightailed it out of the captain’s office.
Meredith placed the folder gently on his desk and opened it. A picture of the creature in the cattle pen stared up at him. He looked down at it, then raised his eyes to them.
“What the hell is this?”
“One of the things that’s on the loose,” Dalton said.
Hammerlich riffled through the papers. He motioned for them to take a seat.
“Where did you take these pictures?”
Meredith answered, “Some at Plum Island, in the government lab, and those others at the beach several years ago when I responded to a dead animal call.”
Each hand held one of the pictures. His head went back and forth between them like he was watching a tennis match. Finally, he put them down, spreading everything across his desk.
“Tell me what I’m looking at and why I’m not going to give you an official reprimand.”
CHAPTER 31
Officer Jake Winn’s gut clenched the moment the shadowy creature leapt from the roof.
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The children, who had been running as fast as they could, one of them even sprinting right out of her light-up sneakers, pulled to a terrified stop. Now that he could see the thing under the amber lights that circled the parking lot, his hopes for getting all of them to safety withered and died.
It was beyond words or comprehension.
What he’d at first thought was a dog was anything but. It had the basic structure of a large, powerfully built canine, but that’s where the resemblance ended. The face was like that of a wild boar, coarse, thick whiskers covering a blunted snout. Canines half a foot long snapped at the air, thick saliva splashing the gravel at the children’s feet. It had hooves instead of paws but the tail was long, twitching with agitation. Most of the fur on its body had shed. Blue-tinged skin gave it the appearance of a drowned animal.
The children shrieked as one, scampering back toward Winn.
Shit!
Their sudden movement gave the monster pause.
“Get behind me!” Jake shouted.
He saw husbands throw protective arms across wives, urging them to go inside. None of the women moved. Their babies were out there.
Winn drew his gun on the creature. It stared back at him with yellow eyes that shone with a spectral gleam of intelligence. It saw Jake for what he was—a threat to its next meal. Black and pink lips curled back. A throaty growl gave warning that he should stand down.
All of the children were now gathered at his back, some crying, the rest too petrified to make a sound.
He looked past the creature to the motel rooms. Several parents were making their way to the lot. It was understandable that they would do anything to save their children, but right now, they were destroying his chance to shoot the damn thing. If he went wide or high, there was a frightened parent within range that would take the bullet instead.
“Stop.”