Nadine was Liz's sister who lived in Manhattan. She was married to a trader or banker or some other financial type who Mike didn't care for the moment he'd met.
“You should call her, see what she's heard. You could ask her if they're seeing the army guys around New York like we're seeing here.”
Liz thought for a moment while chewing her food.
“Yes, I'll call her after dinner.”
They finished eating and then Mike took care of the dishes. As he loaded the dishwasher Liz walked into the kitchen with her cell phone.
“I can't reach her, the line is busy…” She said, not exactly concerned but more than casually.
“What about a text message?” Mike suggested.
“Yeah, I tried that, it looks like it went through but she didn't reply.”
“Oh it's probably nothing, it's New York, she's fine… Probably a problem with a cell tower in her neighborhood that's all. Try her again later Liz.”
Liz looked at Mike and then smiled. “You're right, it's nothing. I'll try later.”
She walked out of the kitchen. Mike paused his loading of the dishwasher to consider what could be going on in New York. He didn't think it was just a cell tower outage.
The next morning greeted Mike with the piercing shrill of Liz's alarm clock. As was usual when Mike was wrenched from his slumber, he stretched out one arm and attempted to swat his own clock to silence the loudness.
The alarm continued and Mike began to regain spatial awareness. He glanced at his clock and seeing it was only 5:15am he rolled over and closed his eyes for a few more precious moments of sleep.
The alarm went off again, this time it was Mike's. He hit snooze and began the ritual he followed each morning, allowing himself three snoozes to give himself the illusion he had some control over his day. Of course, it was just that, an illusion. Mike had to get out of bed, he had to go to work. He would spend the next nine or ten hours at work before coming home and getting ready to do it all again the next day.
Then the weekend would come and the money Mike and Liz earned could be spent. Not all of it of course, just enough to perpetuate another illusion, that they were living the American Dream and anything they wanted was within their grasp if they worked hard.
It wasn't that Mike wasn't paid well. He was paid more than most he thought at least. It was just that he'd come to the realization that all businesses were run to make money. Mike was paid just enough to make him come back the next week.
The people that made the widgets and the people that pushed the buttons on the computers that designed the widgets were just tools in a toolbox. Ready to be replaced with something newer and cheaper if they wore out or lost their edge.
The clever organizations used a sort of brainwashing. They groomed their employees to believe they were part of something bigger than themselves, that their collective was what made the company succeed. This would be reinforced by throwing some crumbs in the form of profit related bonuses. It was all so much bullshit you could smell it from the parking lot, but it was what it was.
The days of man being able to plant his flag in a patch of dirt and claim it as his homestead were long gone. Sometimes Mike felt like he were born in the wrong century, but he enjoyed so much that only the 21st century had been able to offer.
Right now the 21st century was offering up a fresh slice of Wednesday. Mike hit the snooze for the last time, then turned off the alarm clock. He methodically, robotically went through his morning autopilot, kissed Liz goodbye and was soon in his car heading to work.
An hour later he was at his desk. His desk was unremarkable except for the clutter. He tried to keep it organized but work got in the way. It amazed him how some of his coworkers had desks that perpetually looked ready for the inspection of a mother-in law.
Email was the first order of business, after coffee. Mike sat down and began working his way through the thirty or so messages that had somehow arrived between 6pm last night and 8am this morning.
Most of the messages were irrelevant. Spam and junk mail for the most part. Company-wide announcements and some messages from his boss made up the rest. One item that caught his attention was a Google news alert he'd subscribed to. It sent him a daily email any time ECD reports were found in Michigan. Mike clicked on the mail and it opened up on his screen.
The report wasn't about an infection in Michigan, it was an interview with a professor from the University of Michigan. He was talking about how the threat of ECD was being deliberately understated. Mike read further.
Professor Miller was pressed on his claims that the CDC is withholding key information from the general public. “I cannot reveal who within the CDC has given me this information. Suffice it to say they have risked their career in reaching out to me with this. Look, all I can tell you right now is there is much more going on with the ECD infection that we are being told.”
There was more in the mail, background information about the professor and then a response from the CDC.
”The mission of the CDC is to collaborate to create the expertise, information, and tools that people and communities need to protect their health. We have been working with medical experts around the country and the world to combat the ECD infection. The infection is serious, but it is contained. Updates are always available at our web site or by calling our office on 800-CDC-INFO”
Mike stopped reading and considered the report. Why would a professor make such a claim? Especially one from the prestigious U of M? Mike was a State guy but he respected the credentials of a U of M professor.
His cell phone rang and he saw from the caller ID that it was Liz.
“What's up?”
“Mike, I still can't get hold of Nadine. What do you think? Should I call David?” David, yes that was the name of Nadine's husband Mike remembered.
“Well, sure, I mean it can't hurt right? Ok, let me know what happens? Love you.”
Liz ended the call.
Chapter Four
Elizabeth Landis was 24 years old when she met Mike. They'd been married almost ten years now and they were genuinely happy together. While many of her friends had started a family, Liz had not. She and Mike wanted children but so far it hadn't happened.
Liz had met Mike through her sister Nadine. At the time Mike was working for the same company as Liz's sister. Mike was an investigator at Nadine's firm. He and Nadine had shared a cubicle wall and over time had gotten to know each other.
Always the matchmaker, Nadine had suggested the two of them meet over a dinner party at her apartment. These were the days when Liz worked in New York, fresh out of college and eager to start paying off her student loans.
She and Mike had immediately hit it off. Two years later they were married and had moved to Michigan, where Mike had grown up.
Liz scrolled through the contact list on her phone and picked David Montrose from the list. Liz had never understood what attracted her sister to David but she was supportive of her, plus Nadine was clearly very happy with him. Liz recalled Nadine telling her how she had met David at some corporate event, how she'd turned round and accidentally knocked a glass of white wine over him. It was only later that Nadine learned David was an important client of her law firm.
They'd dated and were married within six months, Liz still thought that was too soon, but now it was five years later and they were still together.
David's phone gave a busy signal just like Nadine's.
“Shit. Shit shit shit.” Liz assessed her options. Her cell phone worked fine, Mike's phone too. Like she and Mike, she knew that Nadine and David gave up maintaining a land line years ago. Then she remembered the video chat Mike had set up on his laptop. They'd used it at Christmas.
Liz went downstairs to Mike's small office in the basement and turned on the laptop, then loaded the video conferencing software. She saw David's name on the contact list with a green dot next to it indicating he was online.
She double clicked David's name and waite
d.
“Hello? Mike?” David's voice came through the speakers before his image appeared on screen. “Oh Liz, hi. This is a surprise.”
“David, hi, how are you?” Liz was suddenly so very relieved to speak to David.
“I'm fine, what's going on? Is everything OK with you and Mike?”
“Yes, oh, sorry, yes. Everything is fine. I was actually trying to get hold of Nadine. I can't reach her, is her phone broken?”
“Can't reach her? She's fine, her phone is fine. I'm actually at home today, some idiot called in a bomb threat on the Williamsburg bridge and the Queens Midtown tunnel. It's a damn mess trying to get out of Manhattan this morning, I'm working from home. Hang on and I'll get Nadine.”
David walked away from the computer and through the Manhattan apartment, a few moments later Liz saw Nadine as she sat down at David's laptop.
“Hey sis, what's up?” Nadine asked.
“What's wrong with your phone? Did you get my text?” Ironically Liz was a feeling pissed now at the realization her sister was fine.
“My phone's fine. I didn't get your text. I have my phone here, it's got signal and I was using it this morning, I called David’s office to tell them David wouldn't be in today, then I called my office and told them I’d be out.”
“Then what the hell? Most coverage in the USA my ass!” Liz mocked the tag line of her cell phone provider. “Ok Nadine, now I know everything is ok with you I’ll quit bugging you. Enjoy the working from home.” she laughed, someone had once told her there were lies, damn lies and working from home.
“Wait, why the urgency? What was so important you had to get hold of me?” Nadine asked.
“Oh that’s right, god, I can’t believe I forgot the reason I was trying to reach you. It’s probably nothing, it’s just I thought I saw a story online that ECD was in New York City? Did you hear anything?”
“Here? No, I didn’t hear that. Trust me, I’d call you if I heard that.”
“Ok, I know, I’m being silly, but you’re my favorite sister.” Liz smiled.
“I’m your only sister!” Nadine laughed.
“Whatever. Later sis.”
Liz disconnected the video chat and turned off the computer. She was late for work.
Chapter Five
Colonel Karen Moriarty looked at the map on the computer screen in front of her. It displayed the continental United States as a composite of satellite imagery. She clicked on the Eastern seaboard and the map instantly zoomed closer, the details of the coastline now much clearer.
She clicked on the area of New York and the map zoomed once more, this time showing New York, Connecticut and New Jersey. Visible on this level of the map were several red dots. Each dot indicated a possible ECD infection.
Suspected ECD infections were immediately reported to the CDC through the CDC's National Environmental Public Health Tracking Network. Any time a doctor saw a patient in the ER or clinic and they suspected ECD a quarantine protocol was immediately activated. The patient would be held in isolation and the CDC was notified.
A blood sample would be taken from the patient and it would be transported under security to Atlanta where CDC scientists would confirm the presence of the virus. The CDC had classified the ECD as a Category A agent. While it was not suspected that ECD was a form of bio-terrorism, the potential existed for terrorists to spread the virus further.
Colonel Moriarty was forty-seven but her athletic build and smooth complexion made her appear considerably younger. She was a tall woman at 5’ 10” and she wore her blonde hair short. She had been told that it was widely assumed, by the men at least, that she was a lesbian. Despite being a career Marine she had never felt the need to complete with her male colleagues and she felt comfortable as one of the few female senior officers in the Corps.
Moriarty lead a battalion of 1,200 Marines that was responsible for the security of the blood samples being transported to Atlanta. She had organized her Marines into rapid response 'Go teams', with no more than twelve troops to a team. This unique structure meant that Moriarty had around eighty teams ready for deployment at any time, with on average another twenty teams deployed on security operations.
Moriarty looked away from the map and out of the window of her office. She had been stationed in an office on the 8th floor of a building in the Northeastern area of the sprawling CDC campus. From her perch she could see Candler Lake. The lake wasn't large but there was a trail that looped it and on the few occasions she was able to get away from her post she would walk the trail and try to process what was happening.
She enjoyed the trail because it was simple. It was exactly as it appeared. She loved the smell of nature, the occasional glimpse of a chipmunk darting between trees or the squirrels that would dash across the path ahead of her. All of it was exactly as it appeared, there was no bullshit, no agenda, it was tangible.
So much else in her life was unclear, orders that bore no resemblance to obeying the Constitution, civilians calling the shots on operational matters that made no sense. Moriarty smelled CIA on some of the crap she’d been handed, but she couldn’t understand why they’d be involved in a domestic incident.
Moriarty knew that Los Angeles was gone, what a goddamn mess that had been. By the time the CDC had figured out that they had an epidemic on their hands it was far too late. The infected had moved in and out of LA and the virus had spread like a cancer. When the order was given to secure the City of Angels Moriarty had been one of the first on the scene.
She remembered watching truckloads of Marines arriving from Camp Pendleton, each dressed in full Chemical / Biological / Radiological / Nuclear protective suits. The Marines had filed out of the trucks and secured highways and bridges. Blackhawks circled overhead, utilizing FLIR to identify any civilians trying to flee the lockdown.
The hardest part was giving the order to the troops to stand their ground and to prevent the civilians from escaping. She knew, well she suspected, that many of those people weren’t infected but those were the dark days of the infection when little was understood and chances just couldn’t be taken. They didn’t even fully understand the incubation period of ECD or fully comprehend how it was being transferred. So Moriarty had locked the city down and imprisoned those who were inside.
She remembered the first few days of the lockdown, how families had driven to the checkpoints and been turned away. Everyone was turned away, city officials, police officers, even National Guard who’d been caught in the quarantine area. It had been brutal. An imaginary line drawn in the sand decided who lived and who died. If you were on the other side of the line you could walk away.
Moriarty had sent in patrols with supplies but eventually that became too dangerous. The residents of LA realized they were being left to die and they fought back. Moriarty lost five Marines in a single day. That’s when she realized there was nothing left to do there but let the virus burn itself out and then move in with cleaning crews to remove the dead. Air drops continued, there were still some people holding out according to the drones and the Blackhawks but they numbered only in the hundreds now.
It chewed her up inside that Americans were dying and she was doing nothing to help but she knew the sacrifice was necessary to protect the 300 million Americans outside of Los Angeles.
So far the American public had been kept in the dark as to how serious ECD really was. Sure they knew about LA and China, but the American press was prevented under a Presidential order from reporting anything related to ECD without prior clearance from the Pentagon.
Blissful ignorance, Moriarty thought. Sometimes the public had to be protected from reality because they couldn’t handle truths so brutal. When ECD cases were detected her team would take steps to prevent not only the spread of the virus but also of information. It was standard operating procedure to disable cellular and landline communications.
No one outside of her team and her direct chain of command to the White House had any idea about Carlin, Nevada.
> Located in northeast Nevada along I-80 Carlin was a tiny community, remarkable only in it's anonymity. It's two thousand high desert residents lived normal lives until about two weeks after the first case in LA appeared. That was when Abigail Williams arrived in town. Abigail had been driving to Boise, trying to escape the madness in LA but had pulled off I-80 at Carlin after feeling too ill to drive further.
Abigail checked into a Comfort Suites hotel. As she talked to the young woman at reception she left a colony of ECD on the counter. With every word leaving her mouth she projected the virus into the air where it hung briefly, swirling in the cool air conditioned room before being inhaled by the receptionist, Rachel Connor.
When her shift ended Rachel went home and over the next few days she passed the virus to her family, who in turn gave this deadly gift to their friends.
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