by Mark Tufo
Hitting the guard building did nothing to the plane’s momentum or angle, insignificant as it was in size and construction. Hemp and I had dropped down onto our stomachs beside the truck, our necks craned as we watched the plane rocket overhead slanting to a greater and greater degree. The whooshing jet blast kicked a torrent of dust and gravel up into our faces, sandblasting the truck, and nearly blowing us beneath it, even as it rocked the entire vehicle on its suspension. Then, within an eighth mile, the tip of the huge wing punched into the paved drive about three hundred yards ahead of us, sending chunks of asphalt that looked nearly as big as Volkswagens flying into the air.
The huge plane with its nearly 200-foot wingspan cartwheeled three times before exploding in a ball of flame and searing heat that blasted our dazed faces even from that distance. Its velocity ensured forward momentum, though, and as the fuselage broke in two, the smaller tail section slammed into the solid concrete CDC building identified with a large sign as Building #1. The walls collapsed into a fiery mishmash of stone, metal and bodies as the rear of the aircraft came to rest, now unrecognizable in its complete destruction.
The other half of the airplane had broken into a thousand pieces, devastating every structure in its path.
Hemp and I waited for any massive explosions that might result before we shook off the dust and dirt and slowly got to our feet. We stared at the devastation before us, and I was thankful that most of the CDC was still intact.
Then I thought of the girls.
“Holy shit,” I said, hurrying over and pulling open the door of the SUV. “You guys okay?”
“Had to happen,” Gem said. “Pilots aren’t immune, are they?”
“He was probably headed to land at Hartsfield-Jackson,” said Hemp. “Didn’t quite make it.”
We all knew, but didn’t really discuss the fact that there was more than one possibility. Either the pilot had become infected or the co-pilot had metamorphosed and had attacked him. The other scenario is that while the flight attendants were accessing the cockpit, multiple passengers overtook him or her, and all hell ensued.
“Well, we can scratch that building off our list,” I said.
“Not too big a deal,” said Hemp. “It’s mostly administrative. I mean, it would not be where people would go if there was an outbreak of some kind. The buildings with secure airtight bunkers are deeper within the complex.”
“Did you spend a lot of time here?” Gem asked.
“Absolutely. I did quite a bit of work here during the swine flu scare, as well as some pretty intense research on some other viruses that were never shared with the public.”
“Doesn’t keeping epidemics from the public defeat the purpose of the CDC?” I asked. “Aren’t they supposed to tell the public how to avoid contracting diseases and viruses?”
Hemp looked somber. “Flex, there was no preventing the ones I’m referring to. It only would have served to send people into a panic. But that said, the one that seems to have gained a footing – this one – is more devastating than any I saw. If not for us, I’d call this one a world-ender.”
“If not for us?”
Gem interjected. “I think Hemp means that with us alive and uninfected, there’s a chance this thing runs its course. People like us will be left to repopulate and rebuild.”
“It remains to be seen how long these people last once they’ve become infected. I won’t know anything until I’m able to study some of them; learn about their new physiology, heart, lungs, brains, motor skills, communication skills, if any.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think there are any communication skills. Just body language, and that’s always the same. I’m hungry, and you’re food.”
Gem smiled at me. “Flexy, was that a joke?”
“Fuck, don’t I wish,” I said. “Let’s get through this barrier and past that mess and see what we find in these other buildings. Hemp, lead the way, brother.”
“First things first,” he said. He walked over to the automatic barrier and analyzed it for a moment. Then he removed a plastic cover, pulled a lever, and the gate unlatched. A moment later he was rolling it open.
“You are an engineer,” Gem said.
It had taken him under sixty seconds.
“Yes, I am,” he said, smiling.
The heat from the blazing aircraft could be felt through the side windows of the Suburban as we drove past the tangled wreckage. There were torsos, trunks, arms, legs, and various other unidentifiable body parts strewn among the seats, metal and burning plastic chunks. We had to skirt over a hundred and fifty feet to the left just to get the Suburban past the debris.
“That was close,” Gem said, hugging Trina to her side. “You okay, baby?”
Trina looked up at her and nodded. “Yeah. But I’m hungry.”
“We’ll get some food when we stop. Want more Cheerios?”
“I guess. Do we have any milk and sugar?”
“I’m afraid not, sweetie. Maybe Gemmy will stop and get us some. It might not be that cold, though.”
“Okay,” Trina said.
I was a bit worried about her. She seemed to be in shock. I was no expert, but wouldn’t be surprised. I was even happier to have Gem with her. Trina loved Gem.
“Pull up here, to Building #3,” Hemp said. “If their emergency systems are up, then they’ve got cameras and should be able to see us at the entry. There are two large bunkers beneath this building, with storage garages, and laboratories are on the upper levels. We should be able to achieve whatever we might expect right here.”
“And what do we expect?” I asked. “I don’t think I really had any idea. Just seemed like the place to go.”
“Equipment, maybe some explanations, too. If anybody here is still . . . well, human.” Hemp shrugged. “And you’re right. It’s our best bet.”
We got out of the Suburban and Gem scooped up Trina and carried her in her arms. We relegated the dog to the vehicle for the time being – there was not much sense in having her running around in her condition, not sure exactly what might come around the next bend.
There were no abnormals around – at least not yet – so we felt relatively safe, what with the tremendous firepower we’d obtained, now strapped across our shoulders. Gem, holding Trina, had settled for the Glock tucked into her waistband, her precious Uzi left behind for the time being.
The door looked secure. The camera was there as Hemp said it would be, and we all looked up at it and waved our arms. Gem had had an idea for a sign, which we made in the truck before coming out. It said:
* * *
UNINFECTED.
NEED HELP!
* * *
I had a black Sharpie in the glove compartment and we’d used the inside cover of the old Suburban’s maintenance record book. It wasn’t that big, but it should do it if anyone was inside to read it. While we realized it would be clear we were not one of them, we wanted to stress the point that we were well aware of them.
“Do you hear that?” I asked.
Everyone was quiet for a moment. “Yes. Sounds like a generator,” said Hemp.
“Then somebody’s alive?” Gem said.
“Here’s hoping.” I pounded on the door, and we stood back and looked again at the camera. I thrust the sign right in front of the camera again.
An intercom clicked. “Dr. Chatsworth, is that you?”
Hemp’s eyes brightened. “Uh, yes, it is. Who is that, please?”
“It’s Max, Dr. Chats – I mean, Max Romero!”
“Max, God it’s good to hear your voice. Can you allow us to come in? What’s the situation inside?”
“Jesus, Dr. Chatsworth. I can’t tell you how happy I am you’re here. I’m . . . well, I’m locked inside one of the labs right now. Some of our people were infected, and I barely made it in here. Jesus, Dr. Franklin Lang – or what used to be Dr. Lang – attacked me. And what the hell was that noise? About ten minutes ago I heard a loud rumbling sound and the ground actually shook b
eneath my feet!”
Gem spoke up. “A passenger plane crashed outside and slid into your building number one. It was an enormous explosion.”
“Jesus. I was on the phone with Dr. Snipes and Dr. Wilder. They were in building one working on some documentation. I guess they’re . . .”
“They’re gone, I’m afraid,” said Gem. “That building is rubble, and what’s not destroyed is burning. I’m sorry.”
The smoke was beginning to build where we stood, and it was getting thick and hard to breathe. There was a light breeze blowing the smoke and fumes in our direction, and along with the wind created by the fire itself, I knew we couldn’t stay out here for long. I tried to be tolerant as Hemp got a feel for the landscape of things.
Hemp looked at us and shook his head. “They weren’t exactly friends, but I did work closely with Dr. Lang. He was an excellent scientist. Max, do you have control of the door switch from there?”
“Yes, Dr. Chatsworth, I can buzz the door from here, but you have to be careful. I see you’ve got weapons, and that’s good, because at this point, I have no idea what you’ll find in the unsecured areas of the building.”
“What of the EIS staff?” Hemp asked. He turned to us and said “Epidemic Intelligence Service. These are the ones to get busy when a new threat appears.” He looked again at the camera. “Have any of them been able to initiate an analysis of this?”
I was getting impatient. “I hate to interrupt Hemp, but would you mind if he buzzes us in? We’re pretty exposed out here.”
Gem spoke up. “Flex, we’d better get as much information as we can before we go inside. Hemp’s talking to him now, but once we gain access, we have no idea what we’re going to run into or if we’ll ever get to him at all.” She looked up at the camera and shrugged. “Sorry, Max, but there’s no guarantee we’ll make it to you or that you’ll be alive if and when we do get there.”
“I understand,” Max said. “What else can I tell you, Dr. Chatsworth?”
“Can you tell me if the abnormals – that’s what we’re calling them for the time being – are concentrated or more prevalent in a particular area of the building? So we can avoid it if possible?”
The click came again. “This started yesterday evening,” said Max. “I was having some dinner in the cafeteria, and it seemed as though after some initial complaints about headaches – severe, migraine-type headaches from what I understand – those who had them just dropped. Like they passed out. When they got back up, they’d . . . well, they’d just changed. Eyes, skin, motor skills.”
“That fast,” said Hemp. “Reminds me of what I saw in the Tallahassee police station. I’d seen some of them farther along outside, which is why I went in for help. But inside the police station, everything was chaos. I went in for help, and ended up . . . well, you know.”
Max came on again. “Two of the cafeteria staff attacked Dr. Hanzek, and I sat there holding a sandwich in the back of the room, not sure what was happening. Then I saw they were trying to eat him, and he was screaming. But Dr. Chatsworth, they weren’t just trying. They were eating him.”
Max spoke rapidly, and I felt for him. He was the first uninfected we’d come across, and this is what we were all feeling. A sense of dread and confusion about what was happening to the world as we had known it.
“I just got up and ran. That’s when I almost collided with Dr. Lang, who looked the same as the others. I didn’t notice at first, I was so in shock from what had just happened. I started to say something to him, but it was clear he was gone. He grabbed my shirt and I tried to pull his arm off me, and his skin . . . it was mushy or something. His eyes were vapid, nothing there, but I got the impression he could still see me. I was able to fight my way free of him, and I just ran in here and activated the lock.”
Hemp looked worried. “Max, how long has the generator been running?”
There was a click, then, “About sixteen hours now. But it feeds from multiple huge underground LP tanks, so it can literally run for a couple of weeks.”
“Good,” Hemp said. “If it shuts down, the door locks release. Max, when’s the last time you heard noise from outside the lab where you are?”
“Not since about six hours ago. There’s a small refrigerator in here, so I’ve got some food and water, but no weapons. I wasn’t willing to venture outside here and check the status.”
I spoke. “There’s evidence that some of the abnormals made it outside, but we don’t know where they came from. Hemp? Do you think you have everything you need for now?”
He nodded. “Yes, I believe so. Max, we’re going to come in now, so activate the lock release. Which lab are you in? We’ll try to get to you first.”
“Second level, lab 202. I don’t think I’d recommend taking the elevator. You won’t know what you’ll be facing when the doors open, but I’ll leave that to you. Top of the stairs, right hallway, 2nd door on the left.”
“Okay, hit it. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
The solenoid hummed and the bolt retracted. We pulled the door open and went inside.
We stepped inside and looked in both directions. I felt better with a death grip on one of the several Daewoo K7s we’d confiscated, and Hemp was trying out one of the three Heckler and Koch MP5s we’d nabbed.
The H&K was the most widely used submachine gun among law enforcement, and looked pretty badass besides. Nice and compact, with a 30-round magazine and a 2-round burst setting, Hemp had a full magazine installed and two jammed in his belt.
Gem brought up the rear with Trina in her arms. She looked exhausted, and I knew she’d never say anything. I knew from experience that Trina, despite weighing only about 40 pounds, could start to feel very heavy after hauling her around for just a short while.
“Baby, are you okay with carrying her?” I asked.
Gem nodded, but pulled back and looked at Trina. “Trini, baby, do you think you’d like to walk and hold Gemmy’s hand for a little while?”
“Uh huh,” she said. “I can walk. Where are we?”
“We’re in a big building, and we’re going to a laboratory to see friend of Hemp’s.” Gem put her down and she looked up at us and held out her hand. Gem took it.
“I’m not tired,” she said, yawning.
“I know you’re not, baby. You don’t get tired because you’re a big girl.”
I smiled at Gem. “Stay about eight to ten feet behind us. If anything’s up here, we’ll dispatch it before you two know what happened.”
“Stairwell’s on the left here. Or do you want to take the elevator?” asked Hemp.
Unlike most buildings with backup power systems, this facility had a large generator capable of running nearly every piece of powered equipment that might ordinarily operate, with the exception of some minor, non-essential devices. As Hemp told us on the road, they could have to survive in this building for some time, and the capability to continue the experiments necessary to find an antidote to any given virus or infection was crucial.
“I think your friend might be right,” I said. “Let’s forget the elevator. We can push the doors open and get the lay of the land. That way we can avoid the ‘Here’s Johnny!’ factor and enter at our own speed.”
“This is the place,” Hemp said. He pulled open the door to the left of the entry. Steel corrugated steps led up to the second level in two flights. Hemp craned his neck, pointing his gun up the well. We could see through the steel stair treads, and it appeared to be deserted. Hemp confirmed it and waved us onward.
“Hemp, you go first. I’m bringing up the rear. Gem, you and Trina between us.”
We got organized and headed up. It was a quick trip up the 20 steps to the second floor landing. Hemp held his MP5 pointed upward, and his hand on the door. “Everyone ready?” he asked.
We nodded. He pulled. It didn’t move. Our eyes fell on the card reader mounted on the wall to the left of the door and all of us groaned at once.
“Fuck. I forgot about this.”
Hemp looked guilty.
“I see our vernacular is catching on. Don’t worry about it. We’ll just take the elevator,” I said.
“That won’t work, either. We’re going to have to get a card off . . . well, a body, if we can find one. The elevator will open, but you won’t be able to make it go anywhere unless you’ve got a swipe card.”
“Well, to be fair, Max might have reminded us of that,” I said.
Gem sighed. “I think we can chalk it up to a bit of stress and give him a pass on that oversight.”
“I’ll go back down and find something somewhere,” I said. Hemp waved his hand.
“Nope. Me. I know where to look, I know how to handle this weapon, and I should’ve thought about it. You three stay here, and I’ll be right back. I don’t think this will take too long.”
“Okay, buddy. Be careful,” I said. “If you’re not back in ten, we’re coming after you.”
“I’ll be back in five,” he said, smiling. He trotted down the stairs with more energy that I was feeling, and Gem and I watched him disappear down the stairwell and around the corner.
“Bollocks!”
I looked at Gem and shrugged. She smiled at me.
“What’s wrong, Hemp,” she called.
“I can’t get out.” His voice echoed up the concrete and steel stairwell.
“That door’s locked too? I thought this was a fire escape.” Gem looked confused.
“Hold on,” Hemp called up. “Okay, okay. I got it. The doors to the interior levels lock automatically. There’s another door down here that leads outside, so I just have to go out and have Max let me in again. Sit tight. Start your ten minute counter.”
But I didn’t have to wait ten minutes. We heard the door click open and Hemp screamed. Just as we heard the first rounds explode out of the barrel of his MP5, the door clicked closed and we heard nothing but silence again.
“Hemp!” I yelled. Nothing. He was outside with whatever had caused him to discharge his weapon.