Endemic Rise of the Plague

by Jeannie Rae

  “Why don’t we give the CDC the data we have? More scientists working on it can only benefit this situation,” Mara pleaded, running her fingers through her auburn waves.

  “It’s a matter of national intelligence. I only explained this to you in an effort to clarify some of your questions so that you may move forward with your research in finding a cure. If we called the CDC and told them that this devastation was caused by a military experiment gone awry, what do you suppose would happen to us? Our names would be drug through the mud in some sort of cover up, and ultimately the blame for all of this would be on our shoulders. I don’t know about you Mara, but jail doesn’t sound like the retirement I’ve always dreamt of,” James said firmly.

  She eyed him as she cupped her hand over her mouth.

  “You need to get to work. I don't know what else to tell you.”

  “How about the whole truth?” She whimpered, rising from her chair.

  “No, you know too much already. While the retro-virus is very promising, I really need you to focus on coming up with a vaccine, or a cure, right now,” James said firmly. “I know that you can do it, Edward was very close to it in his research. The compound itself doesn’t need reformulating. An antidote is what you need to come up with. We really need to bring this home Mara. There are a lot of lives at stake.”

  “No. I won't do another thing with that serum or compound or whatever you want to call it, until I know exactly what’s going on here,” Mara looked up at him with fire in her eyes, plopping down in her chair like a child throwing a tantrum.

  “Ah, but I think that you will. There is much more at stake here. Not just the lives of everyone in Port Steward, but beyond. And let’s not forget how this outbreak began. Your career is at stake Mara, your reputation. I mean, you wouldn't want to be implicated in a premeditated terrorist attack, would you?” James smirked, leaning in.

  “You wouldn't dare!” Mara stood up, the chair falling to the floor behind her.

  “I wouldn't want to, but I have to do what is best for Angora,” he said with composure. “The way I see it, you have two choices. Choice one—my personal favorite, is that you continue your work and come up with an antidote within the next six hours. Angora will come to the rescue and save all these lives. No one will ever know how it all originated. We'll just say that it is a new virus. You can help come up with something, I’m sure. All will end well, and Angora will be the hero, our stocks will soar and the outcome to all of this will be favorable. Or choice two, you refuse to help. The National Guard and Marines are already setting up a quarantine perimeter. They will incinerate the city at midnight tonight. Then there will be questions. You received the serum under false pretenses. Paperwork was not in order, covert emails—it all really implicates you and you alone. It will look like a deliberate act of terror.”

  Mara remained motionless with her mouth ajar. She didn't know how to respond, she just stood there stunned, staring at him. Tears began to fall from her vengeful eyes, onto her flush cheeks.

  “So what's it going to be?” He challenged, straightening his tie.

  Mara's head felt as if it was on fire. She tried to maintain her composure. Looking down, tears streamed down her face, dripping off her chin, onto her lab coat. She didn’t like being bullied by James, but she couldn’t let him put the blame for all this on her. He is connected to this. He must have something to do with it, but how could he?

  “I'll work on it,” she surrendered, her voice cracking as she fought back the tears.

  “That's my girl. I knew that you would think logically and not hastily. In time, I will give you all of the details. After all, we’re partners in this now. But right now I need you to work on the antidote,” he looked at her coyly.

  Mara nodded, trying to hide the frustration building inside her like molten lava rising up a volcano. She watched as James walked toward the stainless steel doors of her lab. He pulled out his sat phone, pressing just one number and holding it. She took a few steps to try to hear what he said, but he spoke so quietly that she could only make out, “No one in or out.”

  Mara hurried back to her desk once James passed beyond the doors. Snatching her sat phone, she quickly dialed Edward's cell. It rang through to the voicemail. She left a quick message only asking him to call her back as soon as possible. She hung up and dialed his office. A woman answered the phone.

  “Good Afternoon, how may I assist you?” The voice asked.

  “Hello, my name is Dr. Brandenburg. Is Dr. Edward Staton available?” Mara asked impatiently. Why isn’t Edward answering his phone?

  “I am sorry, but Dr. Staton is no longer with us. Is there something I can assist you with or direct your call to another member of our staff?” The voice politely asked.

  “What do you mean, he is no longer with you? Did he resign? Is there another way I can get a hold of him? I tried his cell, but he’s not answering. Do you have another contact number for him?” Mara interrogated.

  “May I ask how you know Dr. Staton? Are you a member of his family?”

  “I am a colleague, and a dear friend. I am concerned about him and need to get a hold of him immediately. It’s very, very important that I speak to him. Can you help me?” Mara tried to hold back her panic, but even she could hear the desperation in her voice.

  “Um, ma'am, Dr. Staton had an incident yesterday and passed away. I am sorry,” the voice said softly.

  Mara gasped for air. Feeling as if she may faint, she steadied herself by putting a hand on her desk.

  “Uh, an incident, do you mean an accident?”

  “Well…you didn’t hear this from me,” the woman spoke in a whisper. “The police are still investigating. But they think it may have been a suicide. He shot himself in the head at his home in Blossom Heights, yesterday afternoon. I am very sorry for your loss.”

  Mara hung up the phone and dropped into her mesh chair behind her desk. Frozen in shock, her mind wouldn't work, and neither would her body. It took a few moments to realize that she’d stopped breathing. Exhaling, she closed her eyes and tried to focus as tears poured down her cheeks, slipping off her face and onto her chest. She came to understand that this entire mess seemed like a multi-layered course of dominoes, as though each piece had been strategically placed. Then, at the most opportune moment, the first domino was knocked over, and the plan began to run its course. She thought back to when she spoke with Edward, he had been adamant about keeping the serum confidential.

  Edward is dead. A suicide? Never! He said that it could be more than just his career at stake. He knew. He must have known that he was in danger. James must be working with someone from the institute. What is their ultimate goal? Money. This is a way for Angora's stocks to hit the roof. James mentioned it, himself, that Angora would be the hero and that we would cover it up.

  A chill ran down Mara’s spine, as she realized the precariousness of this crisis. She leapt from her chair and strode toward the steel doors of her lab. Thrusting open one of the doors, she flinched at the sight of Rhino standing in her way. Startled by his stance, she advanced, and he moved into her path.

  “Hey, is everything alright?” She said fidgeting.

  “Yes ma'am. James asked me to stay out here, to make sure that no one disturbs the important work you’re doing,” he stood planted before her, a giant of a man.

  “Well thank you. I am glad that you’re here. I will be back shortly. I just need to take care of something,” she said taking another step, and again, he moved into her path.

  “I am sorry doc, but he wants you to remain in the lab until your work is finished,” Rhino stood firmly in front of her, tightening his lips together, causing the reddish hair on his chin to stick straight out like tentacles.

  She offered a tight lipped grin, before turning around and reentering her lab. Great, now I'm a hostage.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  Roxy paced the length of the conference room. Still fired up about what had happened with Randy and then wi
th Mara, shaking her head, she couldn't help but feel suspicious of this place. Randy was right, Angora is a fortress. Angora definitely had the resources to keep out the infected for the long haul. But she couldn't help this feeling of claustrophobia. Sure the grounds were spacious, and the building itself felt fresh, open and inviting. She couldn't determine if it was the high walls surrounding the property, or if it was the windows throughout the building didn’t open, whatever it was, she felt as if she was trapped.

  “It's been too long. Something has happened. We need to find out where my dad and Kate are, maybe they need help. I can’t wait any longer,” Roxy sighed, rubbing her hands over the front pockets of her jeans. Her eyes swept to Lynn—putting out her third cigarette in a half-filled, plastic cup of water.

  “I'm with you, there. We need to find out what's going on, but from who? Really, who can we trust here? This place is all wrong. As soon as you family gets here, we’ve got to move on,” Dave added.

  “Maybe we should—” Roxy stopped mid-sentence as a phone in the corner of the room began ringing. The ringing phone gave them all pause. She looked at Dave, then Lynn and Mattie. It had been the longest time since Roxy had heard a ringing phone. She walked to the office phone, with the caller ID displaying, Intercom: Dr. Brandenburg. With a shrug, she picked up the phone, “Hello?”

  “Roxy, is that you? It's Mara,” Mara needed no introduction. Even without the caller ID display, Roxy immediately recognized the voice on the line.

  “Yes, this is Roxy. Are the phones working? Did you talk to Randy? What did you find out?” Roxy quizzed.

  “It’s an inter office intercom, hardwired to our phone system. Only satellite phones work within The Port. All other lines of communication are out in the town alone—like we’re cut off from the rest of the world. Listen, I did speak to Randy, and you’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just beginning to comprehend what’s going on here, and it’s not only unethical but the situation is critical. I don't have a lot of time to explain right now. I believe that you’re in danger. I believe that your friends and your family are in danger. You need to leave Angora now,” Mara said, sounding paranoid.

  “In danger? What do you mean?” Roxy asked, looking to the others.

  “I can't explain now. I am on lock down in my lab. I don't think that there’s much time. They’re going to try to cover the whole thing up. In order to cover it up, anyone who knows about how this endemic originated, is in danger. That means you and your friends. Do you understand what I am saying? There are only a handful of people who really know how this whole thing started—by the shots administered at Angora. With the witnesses out of the way and the evidence gone, they could say, that what happened here was anything—and the world would believe it. You are a liability, and so am I.”

  “What are you saying—that they’re just going to come up here and kill us all for knowing about the infection?” Roxy looked around the room.

  Mattie sprang to his feet, as Dave cracked the door and looked out. He looked back at Roxy, shaking his head.

  “I am downloading all the information I have about the serum to my flash drive. It contains all the info about what has gone on here. You will have your answers then, and we will be able to let the authorities know what really happened here,” Mara spoke faster and faster with each breath, as she explained the route for them to take to the garage access.

  “But what about my family? They are on their way here,” Roxy said in exasperation.

  “Once we get out, we’ll figure it out, I promise. But we can’t stay here any longer.” Mara explained.

  “I thought you said you were on lock down, how will you get out?” Roxy grilled.

  “I have a maintenance elevator at the west end of my lab. I have never used it, and I’m sure that James doesn’t have anyone covering it. If I don’t make it to the garage in ten minutes, leave without me. You have to go, now.”

  “Okay, we'll meet you in the garage,” Roxy hung up the phone. “We have to go. When they told you that they were bringing in my family, did they say where they were?”

  “No, they just said that they were about thirty minutes away, that was forty-five minutes ago. If they'd arrived, they would have let us know. What's going on?” Dave asked, as Lynn and Mattie came closer.

  “Mara’s going to get us out of here. She thinks that we are in danger for what we know. She couldn't tell me everything, but she thinks that they’re going to cover this whole thing up,” she shook her head.

  “Come on ladies,” Roxy called in a sweet voice. Her dogs’ ears perked up as they eagerly jogged over to her, tails wagging. “Let's go.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  Hank steered the truck along the outskirts of the downtown area. He had explained his alternate route to Shotgun—a more direct route to the lab, avoiding the crash site—but Shotgun thought it too risky. Accepting the extensive knowledge and experience of the Angora guard, Hank traveled along the route out of town, as agreed by all three men. As he turned the corner, approaching the bottleneck, he half expected to see traffic stuck in a gridlock, but found the road ahead surprisingly clear of traffic. Instead, a series of concrete K-rail barriers blocked the road ahead. A group of military-style, camouflage Humvees and three 2 ½ ton trucks with rear cargo covers were parked a few yards behind the K-rails. A group of people, looking like specks of dust from this distance, stood behind the barriers. Relief came over Hank, sure that the National Guard or some other branch of the armed forces were ahead, likely checking people for bites before letting them pass. A rumbling surged from the roof of the truck cab. Hank could see only the legs of Joe and Shotgun in his rearview mirror. They were standing up leaning over the top of the cab.

  “Hank, it’s the Army,” Kate smiled and leaned forward in her seat.

  Joe swung his head near Hank's half rolled window.

  “It's the military!”

  Hank heard pops in the distance. He tilted his head to the side trying to recognize the sound. Gunfire. He returned his attention to the few, empty vehicles ahead, slowing the speed of the truck. As he maneuvered around the discarded cars, a few infected could be seen nearing the roadblock. One figure seemed to charge at the barrier. After a pop, the figure collapsed to the ground. Close to a dozen bodies were scattered across the pavement and a mound of dead bodies, that reached six foot high, had been piled up adjacent to the roadblock. Hank thought that there should be lines of people if the military were setting up some sort of decontamination area, yet there weren't any normal citizens attempting to leave the city. Instead, the deserted exit to Port Steward remained blocked off by the armed forces. This doesn't look good.

  As Hank neared the block ahead, he could see the men behind the barrier more clearly. They were dressed in camouflage fatigues with matching helmets and were heavily armed. They were still too far away for him to tell what branch of the armed forces they belonged to. Each man appeared to have a large gun, perhaps an assault rifle, he guessed. But from this distance, his sight wasn’t what it once was.

  “You, in the vehicle,” a voice over a bullhorn sounded. “Turn the vehicle around and go back in the direction you came from.”

  “Aren't they going to help us?” Kate turned to Hank with pleading eyes and a sensitive tone.

  Looking into her innocent eyes, he had no explanation for her. In truth, Hank couldn’t be sure what the soldiers ahead were up to or the extremes they might take, to keep them back. He sighed heavily and slowed the pace of the truck even further. Looking down at the speedometer, it registered at about eighteen.

  He could hear Joe and Shotgun shouting, "We are not infected! No one’s bitten here!"

  “Turn the vehicle around and return to your homes,” the voice said.

  “We need help! We’re not infected!” Joe shouted.

  Hank felt torn. The man on the bullhorn meant business, but turning back now would almost certainly be a death sentence. He looked to Kate. She shook her head in a mixture of disappointme
nt and anger, her face pale and mouth hanging open. She couldn’t comprehend the situation.

  “Kate, I want you to get down on the floorboard and curl up into a ball,” Hank said quickly.

  “What?” She shook her head, scrunching her eyebrows together.

  “Just do it. Sit on the floorboard okay. Please,” he requested with an expression of concern on his face.

  “Okay.” She slid down to the floor board and wrapped her hands around her knees. She looked up at Hank with a happy now type expression.

  “Goddam it! Turn the vehicle around right now or you will be shot!” the voice yelled over the bullhorn once more.

  "What do I do guys?" Hank turned his head and yelled out the back window as the truck rolled forward.

  Silence floated through the air as the men had no words. The stillness of the moment was torn apart by the sound of echoing gunshots. Bullets striking the body of the truck pinged, as small flashes of sparks sprayed off the hood. Hank cranked on the steering wheel, trying to pull off a u-turn. Sliding himself as low as possible, bullets tore through the windshield and sidewing windows. Both men in the back came down with a thump. Hank squinted his eyes to try to keep the glass out, as he sank his foot, along with the gas pedal completely to the floor. The engine revved as though it would blow. The shots subsided as they retreated back down the street.

  “You okay Kate?” Hank looked down at her terrified face. She nodded, tears streaming down her dirt-smudged cheeks. “Guys, you alright back there?”

  Hank waited for an answer from the guys in the back, looking in the rearview mirror. He saw Joe lift his head, eyes wide.

  “We need to stop somewhere, now,” Joe said calmly.

  “What's going on back there?” Hank said scanning the street ahead for a place to stop, but runners began to emerge on the road ahead, attracted to the gunfire.

  “Shotgun's been hit.”