Apocalyptic Beginnings Box Set

by M. D. Massey

  “Did he say I could come too?” Victoria asked, with just a touch of anxiety.

  “Of course, dear. As far as I'm concerned, you're welcome to stay with us as long as you need.”

  He kept quiet, though he felt a faint glow in his heart get just a bit brighter.

  “OK, I'll stick with you guys until they get this all sorted out, and I can walk back to my dorm.”

  They settled back down as the evening wore on. Realizing the danger of showing food or drink in the nervous crowd, they snuck a little food and drank just enough to feel something in their stomachs. So many others clearly didn't even think far enough ahead to have one afternoon's worth of provisions. Many were walking around begging, or just shouting to whoever would listen that they needed this or that. The crowd had been calm for most of the day, at least the several hours since they arrived, but the atmosphere was slowly changing as the “pleasant afternoon” of waiting evolved into the “long night with no food or water.” Or sanitation.

  A crowd this big normally would have banks of port-o-potties and scores of support staff to keep them operational. This crowd had now ballooned to the tens of thousands, and there was nowhere for anyone to privately do their business. Naturally, this meant everyone just did it wherever they felt like it. Without any leadership to tell the crowd what to do, people just did whatever they wanted.

  When Liam, Victoria, and Grandma got up in the fading light of dusk, they found the thirty-foot wide paved path filled with people who were sitting on every square inch of pavement, save one small channel of walkers right down the middle. It made it very difficult to move the huge wheelchair without begging sitting or sleeping people to move just a few feet farther out of her way.

  It took half an hour to go the short distance to the dock. It sat in a depression that was hard to see from the main path, although there were a few people loitering about the area. There was simply no way to hide anything in the park with such a crowd.

  They could see a small doorframe next to a closed garage door at the end of a small paved service lane on a downward ramp.

  Once again, the trio pulled to a stop and began waiting.

  Even if the doors opened, there would be no way to get in without being seen.

  “Grandma, how are we going to get in?”

  “The Lord will provide.”

  He and Victoria both said “Amen,” although he had his doubts.

  * * *

  2

  Their prayers were answered in short order—just as dusk fell.

  “Hello, my friends.”

  Father Cahill had been waiting in the crowd and came to see the lady in the huge wheelchair. Liam noticed he had removed his white collar.

  “All through the day, I've been collecting the aged and the infirm and bringing them through this door, but earlier there weren't as many people. Now you can see they've flooded all over, including right here at this dock. I can get you in, but this might be the last time we're able to get anyone inside without there being some trouble. I doubt we're going back out, either. Are you sure you guys want to ride this thing out inside the Arch museum? That's where I want to take you.”

  The three looked at each other and nodded their heads in the affirmative. Whatever was inside had to be better than sitting under a tree with an increasingly desperate crowd. Victoria said things were worse at night. Plus, Liam believed there might be someone in charge who knew the situation. He might be able to figure out how he could get Grandma to safety if he could get some time with that person. It was a long shot, but currently the only shot.

  “All right. I have one other person I'm going to try to get inside. He's that older gentleman sitting near the door. My plan is to go help him up, tap on the door and hope they open it for me. When you hear me knock, move quickly over there. I'll try to get them to hold the door open for you. The closer you are to me, the better, if you catch my drift.”

  He scuttled off.

  Liam and Victoria situated Grandma in her chair while all three faced the door fifty feet away. Father Cahill seemed to have trouble getting the old man to stand up, and some men and women sitting in the vicinity volunteered to help.

  He could see what was going to happen now that several more people were paying attention.

  “Let's make our way in that direction,” he whispered. “Victoria, will you push the chair? I want you to push it inside, no matter what happens to me. Can you do that?”

  “Yes. But let's all get inside.”

  That's the plan.

  They changed positions while keeping one eye on Father Cahill and the old man, who was now up and standing, but the priest seemed hesitant to do what he needed to do next. He was holding the old man, the gentleman's arm slung around his neck. Father Cahill noticed Liam had moved his group closer, nodded to Liam, pivoted to the door and gave it a loud knock in an apparent secret cadence.

  “Pick it up, guys, and don't stop.”

  The knock attracted the attention of several men near the door, already alerted by the commotion with the old guy. Some who were sitting were now standing, and some who had been standing were now moving toward the door. Everyone in earshot of the knocking was curious.

  The door opened with a flourish, and two chiseled men with sleek black rifles popped out. They pushed past Father and his ill friend to let them in and held their guns in a menacing fashion for anyone who fancied a peek inside.

  Victoria pushed Grandma right up to the closest man and yelled, “We're with Father Cahill!”

  The man with the gun made no movement to open a path for the wheelchair. He stood his ground. His friend was looking in another direction, gun trained on some of the men who were closest.

  One of those men yelled, “We're with Father Cahill!” Then it was a chorus.

  How did this happen so quickly?

  Victoria looked deflated at the turn of events. There was no way to prove who they were. No way to prove they were with the clergyman, unless he came back out.

  The two gunmen began stepping backward as if to retreat into the small door. However, just as they were starting their motion, Father Cahill was there. He yelled in the ear of the nearest man and pointed to Victoria and Liam. The two men once again moved out from the door and pointed to Liam's group.

  Victoria plowed ahead. The wide chair was just able to fit into the door, though the wheels scraped as it went through.

  Liam punched through too, though he felt the crowd surge behind him. He was glad he didn't have to sacrifice himself to get the three of them in; he wasn't even sure he would have been able to sacrifice himself. Not against two guys with that kind of hardware or a hundred scared civilians.

  In the dark, it was hard to gauge numbers, but he guessed there were maybe thirty or forty people near the door by the time they got in, meaning there was a sizable crowd angrily looking at a closed door right about now. Would it take them long to figure out they could break it down?

  Every disaster book he'd ever read was now screaming the answer to him. The death clock had started ticking—how long would it take for this stronghold to fall?

  * * *

  3

  “Thank you, Father. You could have easily left us out there.”

  “No problem, my son. I'd do anything for your grandmother and anyone important to her. I'm just sorry I don't have more to offer you than a dark cavern for sanctuary.”

  “Are those people going to break through that door?”

  The two security guys were moving some heavy equipment from the garage area over to the door they'd just come through. The biggest item was a riding lawn mower; apparently, this was an area where they stored equipment for maintaining the Arch grounds.

  The five of them left the guards to their task and started walking up the hallway to the main museum.

  Between the two legs of the monument was an underground area dedicated to ticket sales, two tram-loading areas to get up and down the legs of the Arch, a large museum devoted to frontier livi
ng, and a little gift shop and candy store. In the middle of it all was a large waiting area with plenty of seats around the walls, so people had a place to sit while waiting their turn to go up in the structure. It was now filled with sick people, along with lots of elderly folks, and even a few young parents with infant children. It was a group where Grandma would fit in perfectly. Victoria rolled her into the vaulted space, and they found an area along the outer wall where they could park the wheelchair and have a little room to sit next to it. The dull light of some dim bulbs hanging from the walls provided light in the subterranean refuge.

  Father Cahill helped the older guy sit in the same area, though the man made no effort to talk to them, or even look at them. He merely slumped against the wall, clutching himself as if he was freezing. Liam didn't like the thoughts swirling in his head about all the sick people in his field of view. Did they all have the plague?

  Do I? Would I know it?

  Though he didn't voice the question, the priest seemed to sense the reticence of both Liam and Victoria as they looked around the room.

  “I'm afraid we don't know who has the sickness if that's what you're thinking. It was the first thing I thought of when I started bringing people in here. Heck, when I saw the growing crowds up top, I was thinking it. How does the disease move around? Is it airborne? Passed by direct contact? By fluids? My best guess, based on hearsay, is people either get bitten by another infected person, or they seem to get a type of flu which leads eventually to the Extra-Ebola—a.k.a. E-Ebola. Without proper medical facilities, we aren't able to make even the most basic medical checks of these people. We can't even take someone's temperature. However, they wouldn't survive for very long up top in the heat of the day—so on balance, myself and the other clergy decided it was worth the risk. I guess if we all have it, we'll all die together down here.”

  Liam wasn't reassured.

  “There's a preemie baby somewhere in this room that we had to get out of the heat, and that's why we brought in several very young children in addition to those who are clearly sick, or the infirm, like your grandma.”

  “Who are you calling infirm? I'm only 104.”

  He gave Grandma a big smile. She was returning to her feisty self again.

  “Of course. I meant these other infirm people,” the priest said in a very quiet voice. Everyone chuckled along.

  Father Cahill then motioned to the far side of the room, near the entrance to the main museum. “Those folks over there are the families of the officers up top. The only condition given by the police who volunteered to protect the crowd was that their families be given refuge in a defensible position on the Arch grounds.”

  “Oh, man. You mean the police aren't actually on the job?” he replied.

  “Technically no. The entire St. Louis police department is working today, but that's only on paper. The Archdiocese had contact with the brass over at City Hall as we tried to coordinate some kind of refuge here at the Arch, but they made it clear they couldn't order their officers to do anything as of the president's speech yesterday. City government has come undone. We were able to work out a compromise of sorts with some of the officers who were willing to bring their families here. The department supported the effort because they knew there wasn't much else they could do.”

  “But what about the rest of the city?”

  “I'm not sure. You'd have to ask one of the officers.”

  He considered that as advice for later. He felt compelled to understand the wider world, as it could offer clues as to how they could escape the city, and where they could go.

  Father Cahill was saying, “—and finally there are a few Red Cross and CDC folks in the candy shop. They're using the tables back there as a kind of command center, although they're just the managers and not the field personnel—so they have no medical supplies or trained medical people. I'm afraid their presence, and the rumors they brought medical help, are what attracted many people here.”

  “Well, that's just great.” Liam wasn't in the mood to cut anyone any slack when it came to protecting his family from the plague. He saw the people in the shop standing around, talking.

  “How can they fight the disease if they have no resources?”

  “Liam, my young friend, I think it is safe to say no one here is fighting much of any disease.”

  Yep, that's just wonderful.

  * * *

  4

  Since they carried very little, there wasn't much effort required to settle in for the night. Victoria was still very protective of Grandma's food and water but risked doling out more to her in the near-darkness of the interior. He was watching Victoria and appreciated she took none for herself.

  He had a short nap sitting under the tree earlier in the day, so he wasn't yet ready to settle in for the night. He asked Victoria to keep an eye on Grandma while he went to look for answers.

  He went right to the candy shop.

  There was just enough light he could get around everyone sitting on the floor. There were many more people crowded in the vault-like room than he initially thought. Other than a few coughs and a baby crying, most people had chosen to remain silent as they waited for ... who knows. It was unnatural. He figured nothing like this had ever happened before, not even close, so no one really knew how to act or what to expect.

  The medical folks were still standing where he'd seen them earlier. Others sat around a couple of small tables, but he was shocked to see what they were doing.

  Drinking.

  “Hey. Excuse me. Can I come in?”

  A young-looking man with suit pants, a white shirt, and a horrible tie was among those standing at the door; he motioned him in.

  “Come on in, friend.” He saluted with a bottle of beer. Others in the group did the same.

  “Umm. Thank you.”

  They pushed out a chair for him, and he sat. He felt very uncomfortable with all the eyes on him, and the room fell suddenly quiet. He decided to get it over with.

  “I just arrived here with my grandma and a friend. I'm tired as hell, but I'm trying to find someone with answers.”

  “Grandma, huh? Was that the old lady you were pushing in that wheelchair? I saw you guys come in.”

  “Yeah, that's her. She's been through a lot, but we're safe for now.”

  “I don't know how safe we are.” Tie-guy said with a slight chuckle, “How old is she? She looks to be about a hundred!”

  “One hundred and four, to be exact.” He was proud of the fact, though he really couldn't explain why once it had come out of his mouth. If she were a lot younger, their escape would probably have gone a lot smoother.

  “I was wondering if you could tell me what's going on? I mean, with the plague.”

  Everyone at the tables looked around at each other as if deciding who would answer him. It was the man with the ugly tie who spoke up first, and Liam noticed he downed a good portion of his beer before starting.

  “I'm Douglas Hayes from the CDC.” He waited for a few seconds to let that sink in. “And you are?”

  “Liam Peters.”

  “OK, Liam, I know what you're thinking right now, 'big-shot CDC guy who has all the answers,' but I'm sorry to disappoint you. I know very little about what's happening outside this room. I'm more of a middle manager,” he waved his hand as if presenting his colleagues and said, “We're all more or less middle managers.”

  “The priest said you guys might at least know what’s happening,” Liam continued.

  “We’re not going to tell some random kid,” Hayes replied with a stern face before laughing a second later. “I’m joking! But seriously, we don’t know much,” Hayes said with a laugh. He then pointed to a plain-looking, red-headed woman and said her role was to scout out locations for constructing tents and generators as part of the advanced team dedicated to St. Louis. Another person was responsible for shipping the equipment from Atlanta. Hayes went around the room, assigning roles to every fourth person or so—and as the Father said they
were more logistical in nature than medical.

  The only person even remotely connected to medical information turned out to be a middle-aged, Indian-looking “IT support person.”

  “You want to tell this kid anything?” Hayes asked her.

  “Hello, Liam. Sure, what the hell. I’ve already told the police over there. I'm April.” She had a British accent, which Liam found fascinating, “I'm afraid I know absolutely nothing for sure, as I've been telling my friends all day. The CDC isn't very tight with email or internal file security—I know that probably sounds crazy—and I've been able to glean some information by looking—accidentally—at some critical correspondence inside the agency.”

  She gave a nervous laugh as she drained the final portion of her beer before going on. “The main lesson I learned is that this plague has caught everyone off guard, including the CDC. I've hacked into the accounts for people all across the chain of command, and it's always the same—emails full of confusion, anger, and impotence.”

  Hayes continued, “Anyway, we were sent here as part of an advanced team that was supposed to get the jump on the plague in a city that hadn't already succumbed. Most of the East Coast is already gone. St. Louis was deemed far enough west that our bosses thought it would provide good intel on how the disease spreads and hopefully offer help in mitigating that spread. They were able to get us out here but, with the breakdown of transportation networks, they weren't able to get our gear here, and no one knows whether the medical teams ever departed Atlanta. The US military seems to have commandeered everything that flies.”

  Hayes tilted his bottle to drain it in his mouth.

  “We got here late yesterday afternoon and have been waiting ever since. None of our cell phones work reliably anymore, but when they do we get no response from anyone in our chain of command. Glad you asked, huh?”