by M. D. Massey
Hayes slammed his beer bottle on the table.
“So now we're sitting here drinking beer, spilling our guts to whoever asks, waiting for the double-E Doomsday Bug to roll through the city and make our jobs obsolete.”
Victoria walked in the door just in time to hear Hayes’ last sentence. Her response, standing next to Liam, was to make the sign of the cross.
Hayes, seeing this, went on, “That won't help, I'm afraid. You won't find god, religion, whatever, in the cities anymore. At least those on the East Coast. This is it, folks, the end of humanity.”
Victoria was unperturbed. “Then we need prayer more than ever.”
Hayes chortled, then seemed to recompose himself. “We'll see, won't we?”
In the face of such bad news, Liam didn't know what to say. He'd read enough to appreciate the moral dilemma of whether God was present when such evil was consuming the world, but that was only in books or in the movies. In the real world, it was a lot more ambiguous. He admitted to himself he couldn't visualize entire cities of zombies. All of it gone? Did the intoxicated people in this room really represent the final, best efforts of the government? His dad always mocked government ineptitude, but these guys were caricatures of the theme. Everyone might die because they did nothing.
“So, do you know anything about the plague itself? What caused it?”
“Dunno.”
“Where it's from?”
“Dunno.”
“Can anyone survive it?”
“Dunno. Hey, kid, don't you get it? We don't know anything.”
“But you said you had access to secret network files and all that. Surely there has to be something valuable in there?”
The IT woman spoke up, “That's just it. There were no files. Lots of emails looking for guidance, but very little actionable intelligence and almost no files relating to this outbreak anywhere in the system. Absolutely nothing about patient zero—the source of the whole thing.”
“I don't get it. What are you saying?”
“I'm saying—we're saying—the CDC not only doesn't have any clues about the origin of this disease but as best we can tell, it didn't have any idea the bug existed until it had already scoured through most of the East Coast. We were caught totally and utterly flat-footed.”
He felt mad more than anything else. He expected to glean some clues on how to save Grandma, and instead he was told that the one group in charge of solving this hadn't even deployed their researchers to start researching.
“So, you guys are pretty much useless now?” he said with more sarcasm than he intended.
Hayes' eyes went cold. He glared at Liam for just a second before laughing it off. “Whoa there, partner! We did the best we could. We made it here. We did our jobs. Everyone else dropped the ball.”
He didn't want to let them off the hook but knew he was being unfair.
“Sorry. I meant did anyone get out to study the disease?”
“Oh yeah, lots of teams went to the East Coast. Some even went out the front door of the CDC headquarters into greater Atlanta as it succumbed. But everything happened so fast there was no time to make any headway against it.”
“There are no reports in the system. I've looked. Teams go out and never report back in.” April looked disappointed as if she had spent a lot of energy on this task.
He turned around to leave. Obviously, he wasn't going to learn anything from this group. But something occurred to him as he was saying goodbye.
“Oh, one more thing. This is my conspiracy-theory father talking, but is there any way someone could have deleted all the files in your system? Could that be why there's no data?” He laughed a little, indicating his belief it was a crazy thing to suggest.
The room became very quiet. He sensed the change in attitude.
Douglas stood up, pulled at his tie, and looked around at his colleagues.
“Congratulations, my smart-ass friend. It took us twenty-four hours to figure that out.”
The implications were obvious and stunning.
“So, you're saying that not only is the CDC not fixing this disease, but it may have had a hand in causing it?
Hayes answered as he walked deeper into the room, away from Liam. “Maybe they didn't cause it, but if anyone there knew who did, it's been purged. Why do you think we're just sitting around drinking and chatting up the locals?”
Looking at Victoria, he saw her once again making the sign of the cross.
He thought about mimicking her, but the moment passed.
* * *
5
He and Victoria returned to Grandma and told her what they had learned in his discussion with the “experts” on the disease. Grandma was nearly asleep, so she didn't say much. Victoria shared her thoughts too. They both talked in whispers so as not to wake anyone else—or scare them.
“They said the entire East Coast was gone. Wow. Wouldn't we have heard something on the news about massive plagues in all those cities? Did they mention Denver before I came in?”
“I should have asked them about Denver. Sorry.”
“It's OK,” she replied in an upbeat manner.
“So. Would we have heard about all the sick people on the East Coast? I don't know. I don't watch the news, so I can't say whether there were clues about what was really going on or when this started. Maybe they thought it was just the flu—not E-Ebola? A bad run of the generic flu wouldn't be big news, would it?”
“Probably not. But that reminds me of a story,” Victoria said as she looked around. “I thought this was a tall tale when I heard it, but after what you just told me, it may hold some truth. Back at Washington University where I started my internship, we heard this rumor.”
She again looked around, like it was going to sound crazy.
“One dark and stormy night,” she said with a scary-sounding voice, followed by a laugh. “Isn't that how all horror tales start?”
“Just tell me!” he whisper-shouted.
“Eesh. Where's your sense of drama?” she stuck her tongue out at him. “Any-hoo, these two policemen were stationed outside the morgue of the research department at my school. They said no one was allowed to go in or come out. They supposedly got called in with a report of mischief inside the morgue. They figured it was students pranking the nurse on duty with the old 'he ain't really dead bit' but when they got there, they found several corpses really were 'alive' and there were no interns yanking the strings. They pulled back the sheets and found each of them thrashing around in their restraints, despite having the most grievous wounds you can imagine. The rumor said the cops ran out of the morgue, shut the door, and gave the order to seal it. Everyone else was pushed off the floor. The next day the morgue was completely vacant, but otherwise open for business. That's why nobody believed it could have been true.”
Victoria finished her story, and the pair sat in the darkness of the cavernous chamber in silence.
“How long ago do you think that happened?” he eventually asked.
“I heard that well before the sirens. A week, maybe?”
“So, in that period, the plague must have exploded on the East Coast, it may have been starting here in Missouri, and it was all hidden from view. That doesn't seem possible to me.”
“Me, either. But seeing infected people walking around has changed my perspective on a lot of things.” Victoria laughed quietly. “I still don't believe the morgue story, though. Sick? yes. Look like they're dead? Maybe. Morgue dead? No way.”
Despite her attempts at humor, her story scared him.
“Let's get some sleep and maybe tomorrow things will look a little better,” he added.
Both settled uncomfortably onto the concrete floor, leaning against the hard wall. He offered his backpack to Victoria as a makeshift pillow. She accepted his gift readily and returned the favor by suggesting they lay near each other so they could each share the cushion—on opposite sides. It still wasn't much more comfortable, but it made him infinitely happier.<
br />
Thirty minutes later, as he was nearly asleep, a “crump” sound from outside jolted him awake. Several cops snoozing on the far side of the room jumped up, ran to the exit doors, and shot out into the main crowd under the Arch. He intended to stay awake and discover what they found out there, but the day caught up with him, and he drifted to sleep.
His final thought was of the CDC folks.
“Why do you think we're drinking?” Hayes had said. He thought he understood his meaning, but it jumped out at him in his half-sleep. Maybe they weren't drinking because they were afraid their bosses had scrubbed the records. Maybe they were drinking because they knew what was in the records that had been scrubbed?
He couldn't decide which scenario was worse.
10
Touristy Stuff
“ATTENTION PLEASE! ATTENTION!”
A police officer’s booming voice cried out from the other side of the subterranean room, and it shocked Liam, Victoria, and Grandma awake. The man yelled a few more times and waited until he was sure everyone in the place was awake, with eyes on him.
Liam stole a glance back at the candy store and wasn't surprised to see it was pitch black inside, and none of the CDC people were stirring. He wasn't familiar with the concept of a hangover but did know that rough mornings followed late-night partying.
Or they just up and ran.
He tried to laugh that off, but it had struck a chord of truth.
The officer began his announcement.
“Thank you, everyone. Good morning. I'm Captain Osborne of the Missouri Highway Patrol. I'll get right to it. Last night, we almost lost the entire park. The cordon many of you saw coming in has been pulled back. We were able to stabilize the lines as we made them shorter, and we were also assisted by a few military units, including one tank and several Marine Corps Amphibious Assault Vehicles. As of this morning, the lines are holding. That's the good news.”
Many voices shouted questions.
“I'm not done!”
That checked the anarchy. He paced as he continued.
“The bad news will take me much longer, I'm afraid. First, there are more infected than we ever imagined. Since we still don't know how this thing is spreading or why these infected citizens keep attacking the healthy, we can't take chances. We have no choice but to keep killing them. I'm sorry if that bothers some of you. It's our reality. That said, it's entirely possible we'll all run out of ammo before we can kill the whole city.”
He inserted a laugh to soften the horror.
“Second, even though a few military units showed up, they came of their own volition and are probably classified as deserters from the main force sitting over in Illinois. They may have saved our bacon last night, but no one is coming to save theirs. Third, the military guys said they had orders to prevent anyone from crossing the river. They intend to keep the disease on this side and will use lethal force on anyone trying to cross to them—not even their own men can go back.”
The small crowd started to pepper him with questions, but he took a deep breath, and bellowed, “So. Where does that leave us?”
The gallery quieted.
“I'm sure you know that my fellow law enforcement officers, my brothers and sisters you all passed as you came into the park, have been trying to keep this place secure from the infected victims, so we all have a chance of getting help and get the hell out of this mess. Our families are here, same as yours, and same as those people up top we're trying to protect. But now it looks as though no help will be coming.”
Rather than noise, the captain got perfect silence.
“We lost many men and women last night. Even though we held them off, and improved our lines, the endgame is that unless we fight our way out of here we're going to be trapped.”
Osborne paused a little too long, and the crowd finally exploded with questions, thinking he was done.
“Hold up! Let me finish. Our plan is to start organizing civilians for a breakout. We know there are plenty of men and women with weapons up top, and we think our only chance of escape with some sort of organization is to make those citizens aware of the impending collapse. To that end, I need some healthy volunteers. We are woefully short on manpower. You'd really be critical to helping the police, but you are ultimately helping yourself get clear of the infected assailants out there. We're gonna get out of here. Just give us time.”
He and Victoria looked at each other, then at Grandma. She nodded.
They ran without looking back, wanting to make a difference.
* * *
2
They waited in a line of eight or nine others. There were a couple of young people besides themselves, but most volunteers were quite a bit older, and few looked overly athletic. Everyone could carry and use a radio, however, which was the only condition for volunteering. Some more people dropped in behind them as the captain gave assignments to those in front.
The volunteers ahead were given radios and moved off individually with officers waiting in the wings.
When it was their turn, he and Victoria stood shoulder-to-shoulder.
“Ah, finally someone who looks like they can handle some touristy stuff. I take it you two are together?”
“We aren't together-together, but we are together,” Victoria said at the same time as he replied, “Oh, it's not like that.” They looked at each other in a bemused fashion, to which the no-nonsense captain said, “Fair enough. I think it would be best to have you both go together for this task, though. Would that be OK?”
Both gave a too-quick affirmation.
“Step over to Officer Jenkins to my left,” he said with humor, “and she'll get you squared away. Thanks in advance for doing a tough job.”
As they stepped out of line, he overheard the captain say, “They're a cute couple. Reminds me of my daughter,” to one of his aides. He wasn't about to ask if Victoria heard him.
He had no chance to think about what just happened because Jenkins took them deeper into the area dedicated to the police force and their families. She talked at an insane rate as if she were on caffeine or speed or something.
“Thank you both for doing this. I’ve got your radio. You'll need that to report back. I see you don't have the most comfortable shoes on. We'll try to find you a pair of sneakers. And ... ”
She babbled on for a full minute and he didn't understand nine words out of ten. He caught some points about guns and tactical deployments and one or two lines about the failed power situation. He wanted to stop her for clarification, but one look at her eyes told him she probably didn't remember what she'd just said. They walked along next to her as she led them down a long hallway to a metal door that was propped open. She handed Victoria a radio, which she said was on the proper frequency. After a quick lesson on how to use it, she tossed a flashlight to him, saying they would definitely need it. She said goodbye and started running back up the hallway.
“But what are we supposed to be doing?” Victoria asked to her backside.
Jenkins stopped in her tracks but didn't come back. She paused and took a deep breath as if trying to steady herself in a whirlwind.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I thought I already told you. You have to climb the stairs of the Arch to the top, then look down into the park and report what you see. You two are our secret weapons. Go quick! Good luck.”
She was off.
They cautiously entered the space behind the metal door, which was some kind of maintenance area. A stairwell led up. He held the flashlight, so he went first.
The long climb up the dark stairwell gave him plenty of time to wonder if the girl behind him was thinking about their mutually confusing interaction with the police captain. He knew his mind should be focused on survival, and getting Grandma to safety, and being smart about reporting from the top of the Arch—but he couldn't stop thinking of the big distraction behind him. They had both disavowed anything more serious between them. He didn't even realize something could be serious with her until h
e was saying there wasn't.
Why does she mean that much to me?
Behind him, the distraction gave no clues.
* * *
3
There are 1,076 stairs leading to the top of the Arch. A world-record holder could climb them in less than seven minutes. He had read that information on a metal plaque commemorating the event at the base of the stairs.
“I think we can beat seven minutes, don't you, Vicky?”
“Oh, don't call me Vicky. I hate that name. And yes, let's go for the record. I need a real challenge these days.” She sounded drained, as if heading up the dark tower had crushed her spirit.
He wasn't sure how to interpret her tone or what she had said.
What am I doing wrong?
Silence followed him up the steps for the bulk of the climb.
To pass the time, he tried to visualize the arch-shaped building they were climbing. He'd been up in the Arch many times but had never gone up or down the metal-framed maintenance stairs. They were off limits to the public. Instead, the monument was designed to allow patrons to reach the apex using small trams—a sort of sideways subway with egg-shaped cars so small only five people could squeeze into each one. The builders installed a set of metal steps up each leg that could serve as an escape route if the trams broke down. It was closed to the public because it wasn't easy to climb all the steps, nor was it particularly safe—with steep ascents and harrowing descents going the other way. Today there was no power to run the trams, so the only way up was the lung-busting stairs.
As they neared the top, they found themselves frequently stopping to catch their breath. It became obvious why the captain chose the two most athletic youngsters. After minutes of silence, he delicately offered, “I'm sorry I called you Vicky.”
“No… you're fine. I'm sorry. I had no right to get snarky.” She paused while she took a few steps. “The way you said it brought back ugly memories for me. You can call me anything you want, really, as long as you don't call me by that particular nickname. Fair?”