They closed the doors to the ambulance.
“No!” Rachel broke free as the ambulance took off. She ran a few steps and her legs felt weak, buckling some. She turned around, regained her footing, and charged to the hazmat worker. “Where are they taking him?”
“We’re transporting him to the quarantine facility.” He began to walk off.
“Where?” Rachel followed him. “Where is it? He is a child.”
“He …” the man turned around. “Is infected. The quarantine hospital is located at the Queen Elizabeth Sports center. They will not let you in there. I’m sorry.” He walked off.
Rachel wanted to scream. She took several quick breaths to calm down before facing Cliff. Sami ran into her arms.
“I’m sorry, Rach,” Cliff said. “I’m sorry.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know,” he said emotionally. “One minute he was fine. The next he saw some woman fall over and he ran to her. You know, I told him to stay back. He thought, I guess, that she was hurt. He yelled for me to call for help. I did, and sometime on the phone, I watched this woman get up and just start throwing up blood. I ran to pull him away. I thought we were alright and within minutes, minutes Rach, he was down.”
Rachel’s hand shot to her mouth.
“I’m sorry.”
“I need you to stay with Sami. Get her inside away from everyone. Keep her safe. Let no one near her.”
“Where are you going?”
“To find our son.”
“Rach, I want to go.”
“I know,” she said. “But one of us needs to stay with our daughter. I don’t want her alone.”
Cliff nodded and kissed her on the cheek.
“I’ll call you.”
The words of the worker ran through her mind as she left the beach. He said they wouldn’t let her in. Even if that was the case, she had to be there, she had to be close. Rachel had to get it together, stay strong, and more importantly, find a way to get to that quarantine center.
FOUR
Queen Elizabeth Sports Center
It wasn’t easy.
There were too many factors involved that Rachel didn’t consider. The entire island was shut down. A mandatory curfew had been in place from sunup to sundown and she feared by the time she found a way there, they would make her go back to the resort, or worse, arrest her.
No one knew anything about the virus. Where it started, when it started. The only thing they knew was that it was contagious and fast.
It was as if there was a media blackout.
Suddenly they weren't broadcasting news from the United States or any other country.
The only expert opinions they had come from Kasper who claimed he was an apocalypse scenario guru because he had read hundreds of apocalypse books and saw every movie.
“Someone did research,” Kasper said. “They had to.”
Kasper theorized that the virus was around longer than the public knew, it was more than likely contained for months and broke free.
That was his theory and really all they had.
A discussion that entailed while Rachel tried to find a way to her child.
Barry’s son, Len, told her his father was on it. “He always has a plan,” Len said.
“I do. Don’t worry,” Barry replied. “I’ll get you to that quarantine center. Then I need to focus on the after. I really believe we will be safe here until the virus runs his course.”
“We have to get back to the US,” Kasper said.
Barry nodded. “Absolutely we do. Whether it’s by boat or hell, my pilot flies us out. Rachel you and your family are welcome and Kasper, of course, you are now a given.”
“Thank you,” Kasper said with some relief. “We can’t stay on this island. We’ll never make it through hurricane season.”
He took in the looks immediately given to him. “What? We won’t.”
Middle of that conversation in the lobby, the people in hazmat suits ascended on the resort asking to check on everyone, it was during that confusion Barry was able to bribe the hotel clerk for the keys to the shuttle.
He insisted Len and Rigs went with Rachel.
As tough as she tried to portray, Rachel was grateful for the backup.
The streets were empty, a few UN soldiers, wearing a military version of a bio suit, walked the streets. No one stopped them and no one approached the shuttle bus when they pulled into the parking lot of the Queen Elizabeth Sports Center.
They parked at a distance to watch.
Numerous ambulances and trucks pulled in steadily. Workers in protective gear carried patients into the center. Some ambulances had two or three victims, some pick up trucks had more.
The workers went in, came out and left. Often times returning in an hour.
The one thing Rachel didn’t see was anyone coming out. Not one worker, no one.
She found it curious.
Her son was in there, she had to go find him.
“Here’s the plan,” Len said. “Once the buzz calms down. Once it is quiet and no one has gone in for at least an hour, then we’ll head in there.”
“How?” Rachel asked.
“Right through that door.” Len pointed, then stood from the driver’s seat and walked to the back of the shuttle. “From what Kasper said, and what you told me Cliff said, this thing isn’t airborne. If it were, Cliff would have it. It’s carried through fluids. Like Ebola.”
“If you think about it,” Rigs said. “It’s a fucked up super Ebola.”
Len nodded. “Yeah, it is. So we don’t need full hazmat suits with oxygen.” He slid forward a case. “We only need protective covering, gloves and respirator masks.” He lifted the lid. Three masks lay on top of blue suits.
“Did you steal these?” Rigs asked.
“I did.”
“Good job.”
“Thanks.” He looked at Rachel. “My MOS was CBRN.”
“Okay. What does that mean?” she asked.
“It means,” Rigs explained. “MOS his military Occupational specialty was Chemical, Biological, Radiological and Nuclear. Not that he did any of those things for real.”
“But they trained us,” Len said. “Enough for me to make sure all of us are safe.” He looked at Rachel seriously. “We will find your son.”
<><><><>
They sat in the parking lot the entire day, watching a steady stream of drop offs. As the sun set, the arrivals lessened, until finally nothing.
Going inside wasn’t an option, it was far too dark. Not a single light, from what they could see illuminated the sports center. There were no people, no movement, nothing.
Somewhere in the center, there had to be light. They just couldn’t see it.
While it was the perfect opportunity, they would be too obvious coming out of the darkness.
They’d wait.
Len suggested there were so many workers dropping off that they wouldn’t be noticed.
Wait until morning, then blend in.
Morning arrived and no one showed up. No one came to bring in the ill.
The wait was over and it was time to suit up.
The one-piece suit felt to Rachel like a cross between plastic and paper. Her entire suit, including the hood covering her head was loose. No amount of pulling the drawstring mattered.
Len used duct tape around her wrists and the full-face respirator kept the hood tight.
She was glad that she didn’t have to wear special shoes, the disposable suit had built in booties.
The three of them, suited up, headed toward the center. They’d use the entrance they saw so many go through.
Moving cautiously, while trying not to look suspicious, they approached and opened the tinted glass doors.
Despite the fact that it was daylight the turnstile area was completely dark, no one was around.
“Where is everyone?” Rigs asked.
“Maybe there’s a registration table on the other side,” said Len.
<
br /> After the turnstiles, the sunlight from the open area carried through to the doors that led to the seating.
Still, as they walked down the corridor, there were no people, no workers.
“There has to be something on the other side,” Rachel commented. “They wouldn’t just bring sick people in here and leave them.”
As soon as she said that, Rigs raced forward toward the entrance to Seat Section A. She watched him vanish into the bright sunlight.
It took only a few seconds and he returned, shaking his head.
“What does that mean?” Rachel asked. “What?” She moved forward, Rigs tried to stop her, but she pushed through and emerged just above the staircase, staring out to the field.
She literally exhaled every ounce of air from her body and wheezed as she gasped.
“Don’t take off your mask,” Len said. “Whatever you do. Don’t take it off.”
She slowly turned her head to look at Len, her eyes wide with horror before she looked back.
Hundreds if not thousands of people covered every inch of that field. Not on beds or cots but blankets.
No health care workers or hazmat suits in sight, just people laying there.
The worst thing was, none of them looked as if they were moving.
“Rachel!” Rigs called out her name when she bolted down the stairs.
“I have to find my son.” Rachel said. “I have to find him.”
A sickening feeling hit her gut as she neared the field. There wasn’t a sound at all.
She knew before she even stepped on that field those people were all dead.
There was a vague attempt to help some. A few IV poles poked through here and there. But for the most part, they lay in no particular order, right on the grass, shoulder to shoulder, head to head, feet to feet.
The spaces in between the bodies were covered with blood.
Where to even begin? Was Brad even out there? How horrible it was for a mother to even think this was what her child had endured. She was sure he was scared and sick, dropped off with strangers to die alone in a pile.
“Use caution,” Len said. “Watch you don’t rip the suit and no matter what you see …”
“Don’t take off the mask,” she said, “I know. But where do we start?”
“We each take a section,” Len replied. “I’ll take center, you take left, Rigs is right. Walk straight up, looking at everyone until you reach the end, then turn around, move over a little and walk back. Just be prepared to see some ugly stuff.”
“Do you think all of them are dead?” she asked.
“I don’t know, we’ll find out.”
Rachel nodded nervously and walked toward the corner of the field.
It was clear to Rachel a few steps into her journey, those who brought the ill to the sports center knew it was hopeless, that there was no getting them through the virus. Taking them somewhere to die was more for the families. More than likely, they passed away in route or shortly after.
She wasn’t familiar with decomposing, but none of the bodies she looked at appeared too decomposed.
The mask filtered some of the smell. In her slow walking steps she looked at every face, glancing over the females.
The longer she looked the more she wanted to vomit. From the sight of it all and thinking about what happened to them.
All of them, every body she came across, glanced down to, was dead.
Covered in dried blood, flies darting in and off of them.
She moved carefully and slowly, trying her hardest to be respectful.
Her heart was breaking thinking about Brad. She prayed if he was one of the thousands, that he didn’t know anything. That he only heard her voice, heard her calling out that she loved him.
Then it happened.
Rachel knew by the call of her name.
It lacked any enthusiasm and seemed almost painful for Len to say.
“Rachel.”
The lump in her throat nosedived to her stomach when she looked over and watched as Len crouched down. He was a quarter of the way down the center section. Not far at all.
Oh, God, Rachel thought, he found him.
She began to make her way to him at the same time Rigs came from the opposite end.
She stopped about ten feet from Len, far enough not to see, but close enough so he could hear her.
“Is it him?”
“I think so, yeah.”
He didn’t know for sure because he didn’t know Brad that well. There was still a chance it wasn’t him.
Rachel took a few more steps. Out of her control a painful, sobbing whimper escaped her when she saw her son.
He was truly without life, his face a pale gray, drained of everything. He lay on his side, his head back some, mouth open as if he gasped from his last breaths.
“Oh my God.” She felt a hand on her shoulder and glanced quickly to see Rigs.
“Len, can you get him?” Rigs said, “Or do you want me to?”
“I can get him,” Len said.
“We will take him out of here,” Rigs spoke softly to Rachel in her ear “We will bury your son, Ok? I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry.”
Rachel shivered. It was surreal, it didn’t feel like it was really happening.
She lost her son. Her oldest child. How could that be? That fast, that violently. She was locked on his face, his expression, fearing that would be her last memory of him.
Len bent down lifting the thin teenage boy in his arms. He adjusted the weight to carry him more comfortably in his arms.
Rachel stepped to him. She ran her gloved hand over Brad’s face, wanting badly just to kiss him. “My baby, I am so sorry.”
How horrible of a mother she was not to say, ‘screw it’ and lift off her mask for one more touch, one more kiss. It was her child.
She reached for her mask and Rigs stopped her.
“I know you want to,” Rigs said. “But how fair is it to your daughter if you get sick?”
Rachel withdrew her hand, rolling it into a fist. She stepped aside for Len to walk ahead.
Nearly to the end of field, just clearing the bodies, Len stopped.
“Rigs, Rachel,” he called out. “He’s moving. I think he’s still alive.”
Rachel ran to catch up. She inhaled sharply when she saw Brad’s eyes moving. He wriggled some in Len’s arms, rigid movements as if he were stiff. He had a bewildered look on his face. “Hey,” Rachel said breathless. “I thought we lost you.” She reached out her hand to him.
“Guys,” Rigs said. “They’re all alive.”
Rachel side stepped as Len turned around.
At the same time, the same way, every single person on that field began to move and stand up. Even those close to them.
Rachel backed up then glanced at Len who was staring out. When she did, she saw it coming. Len did not. It was only a split second, not enough time to warn Len. Brad’s mouth widened and he lunged his head forward sinking his teeth into Len’s chest.
She didn’t know if Len screamed, but his head moved back as the fabric of his suit became saturated with blood.
“Oh my God, Rigs!” Rachel shouted, grabbing on to Brad, trying to pull him off. His mouth was locked tight. “Rigs!”
It wasn’t a celebration of life, it was something dark and scary. Rigs stepped backward, nearly jumping from his skin when he felt the hand grab on to his ankle. He shook his leg, looked down to see what appeared to be a woman trying to bite him.
He shook his leg harder at the same time he heard the panicked call of his name.
A lift of his head, he watched Rachel pulling at her son. He flew that way.
“Jesus,” Rigs gasped out. Brad was locked on tight.
“He won’t let go!” Rachel shouted. “Get him off.”
Instinctively, Rigs grabbed Brad. He hesitated because the only real way to help Len was to be forceful and it was Rachel’s child. “Get out of here!” Rigs ordered Rachel. “Go.”
In the
midst of his struggle with Brad, Rigs felt something grab him.
Rachel looked at Len, then Rigs, then stepped forward, hands outward and shoved whoever grabbed Rigs.
“Go. I got this.” Rigs told her.
She paused, glanced at her son, spun on her heels and ran for the stairs.
Rachel didn’t look back. She ran, straight up those stairs, across the corridor and out the double glass doors. Then and only then did she stop as she took off her mask.
She had her wits at the moment and that surprised her.
Breathing heavily she stared at the doors from which she had just emerged. The glass was tinted and there was no way to see when and if Rigs and Len were coming.
Len was injured at the hands or rather mouth of her son. Or whatever the virus made her son become. Her state of shock kept her from screaming, crying or being in denial.
How could she deny what she saw?
Other than television and movies, Rachel had never seen anything like it. Even then, the visual media had it all wrong. In movies, the flesh was soft and pliable, tearing easily. But Brad was locked in, his jaw not moving.
If Brad was like that, the thousands of others that suddenly stood up were probably no different and Rigs and Len were inside.
Len would need help, medical help and he’d need it fast
At Rigs’ request she bolted and was safe, now she had to help them. Remembering the keys were still in the shuttle, she ran as fast as she could to the bus. Before taking the driver’s seat she searched hurriedly and frantically for a rag, something for Len’s injury. She found a roll of paper towels, tossed them on the floor by the driver’s seat, started the shuttle and hit the gas.
She drove fast to the front of the sports center, swinging the shuttle around so the door of the shuttle was only ten feet from the double doors of the entrance.
Barely had she lifted her rear from the driver’s seat when the doors opened and Rigs supporting Len burst out.
“We have to move, they’re coming,” Rigs said, bodily moving Len on to the shuttle.
Blood saturated the entire front of Len’s suit. Once they were onboard, Rachel closed the door and handed Rigs the roll of paper towels. “That’s all I could find.”
The Eliminators 1 Page 3