by William Bebb
Keck stepped over the rusty chain and started to look down in the hole. Bo smiled and said softly “Here use my flashlight it’s kind of dark, but you'll laugh when you see it.”
The sheriff gave one last look around and didn't see any possible witnesses. As Stephen Keck shined the light down the abandoned well he kicked him in his overfed, overpaid, stupid, murderous, pompous, ass.
He looked at Bo, with a grim satisfied expression, when they heard the splash then the snarls and screams that echoed up from the well.
“It was just a tragic accident sheriff. I told him to watch out for the chain, but you know Keck.” Bo said, suppressing a smile with great difficulty.
“Just a damn shame. As if the water wasn't polluted enough down there already.” The sheriff said, as they turned and walked back to the command post.
CHAPTER 18
Dr. David Douglas Peters sat patiently waiting to give final his report on the Keck Virus that had caused the trouble New Mexico. He yawned and fought to keep his eyes open, as the military officials continued their reports on the success of the containment procedures. To him it all sounded like typical Washington bullshit. There were lots of numbers and percentages based on a host of fancy computer estimates and simulations.
The president looked almost as bored as Dr. Peters felt as he listened. Everyone at the table noted the president's gradually more pronounced volume and frequency of his tapping pen on the pad of paper in front of him.
General Whittaker had been speaking nonstop for almost an hour and started to repeat himself as he explained how the incident was effectively one hundred percent contained and no further problems related to the Albuquerque Incident, as it was being designated, were foreseen.
Dr. Peters looked at the president to see how he reacted to the counter intuitive logic of claiming one hundred percent containment corresponded with the general's earlier announcement of having assembled a designated elite special response team stationed in Albuquerque. The antique mantel clock chimed and the president stood up at the end of the table.
“Enough.” The president said interrupting the general, as he started on another issue regarding the Albuquerque Incident. “Thank you general but this is supposed to be a briefing and your reports have been anything but brief. While I appreciate your desire to be as detailed as possible, regarding this tragedy, my time is valuable as I'm sure you all know.”
General Whittaker wasn't sure if he should sit down or not while being addressed by the commander in chief, so he stood uncertain as his face flushed a light pink color.
“I only want clarification on three issues today gentlemen and once that's done this briefing is concluded. Issue one; was containment completely effective did anyone infected by the virus escape the area? Issue two; has a counter drug been developed for this damn thing. And lastly, what is the status of the survivors?” The president sat back down when he finished speaking and looked at the assembled group of experts from the CDC, Homeland Security, ICE, The Pentagon and a host of other agencies.
General Whittaker started to speak while looking through some papers, “Well, um-”
“Please sit down general. I'd like to see if anyone else present can give a somewhat less long winded explanation.” The president interrupted.
The general sat down quickly, his face turning an almost crimson hue, as everyone else looked around the table at each other uncertain what protocol called for.
“Oh, for God's sake.” The president said, clearly irritated. “You there,” he said pointing.“You are Dr. Peters, of the Centers for Disease Control, correct?”
Peters stood up nervously and looked at the President. “Yes sir. I'm Dr. David Peters.”
“Can you address any of the issues I just asked about.” The president asked, looking at his watch and frowning gravely.
“Yes sir, and I will try to be brief.” Peters said.
“Hallelujah!” He said smiling, as everyone present chuckled good-naturedly including General Whittaker.
“I'd like to address your last question first, Mr. President. The survivors were in quarantine for four weeks in one of our remote facilities in Montana. And I'm pleased to say none of them have shown any indications of viral exposure. They were released after their legal status was clarified for them, in no uncertain terms. So they are a non issue regarding the incident, at this point. They are, of course, being monitored regarding possible leaks to the media. However, they all seem extremely reasonable and I foresee no problem with them.” Peters said, smiling.
“I would now like to address your question regarding a treatment for the Keck Virus.” He coughed and looked around the table before continuing. “This particular virus has been exhaustively studied since its discovery. It supplants or replaces, if you will, the DNA of anyone exposed to it. The resultant DNA alterations account for the many disturbing physical and psychological changes that we've seen.” He paused to sip some water, referred to his notepad and continued.
“Typically, various diseases are the result of the introduction of some type of virus. When attacking a host or victim their original cells are altered by the addition of the viral genes. A successful alteration results in a viably infected cell. A viable or sustainable cell will continue to replicate or copy itself until it is defeated by antibodies or overwhelms the host.”
A few whispers from around the table distracted Dr. Peters momentarily. He nodded and elaborated. “This is not an uncommon phenomenon at all gentlemen, so relax. Numerous such viruses have existed before, such as the common cold Rhino virus, Ebola, and even Human Immunodeficiency Virus which leads to AIDS.
During the initial infection stages, the Keck Virus replicates alarmingly fast to moderately fast dependent of the unique physiology of the host or victim. Moderate growth rate is the slowest range we've seen so far. That being the growth rate of hundreds of thousands of cells within ten minutes. Alarmingly fast growth rate has been confirmed at hundreds of millions within the same space of time.”
There was an audible gasp and more intense whispers, when he finished his last statement.
“Yes, it is perhaps the nastiest virus yet discovered but in many ways we've been incredibly lucky. Had this outbreak occurred in a major population area the fatalities could easily have been in the hundreds of thousands. We've had unprecedented cooperation from the Beaumont Bio-Chemical Industries top management, regarding tracing the virus's origin. And have isolated the virus itself of course, but at this point no cure has been discovered to counteract the mortal phase of infection.
The Keck Virus is shockingly fast acting. It has no carrier state that we've been able to determine. After a human is infected I'm afraid the virus can be spread in a host of ways. In addition to blood or bodily secretions, its hypothesized that it could easily be inhaled but since no type animal has been shown susceptible to the virus, other than man, we've had no way to test the theory without a human volunteer- which understandably have been nonexistent to date.
Although certain people feel criminals on death row might be encouraged to participate in such a study, nothing has yet to be decided regarding that.” Dr Peters said, and paused to sip some more water.
“You propose purposely infecting prisoners?” The president interrupted, leaning forward.
“Well sir, it’s more of a test to see if inhalation from an infected person during the mortal or living phase can be spread through shared air.
“How many infected people are there? I've been given two different numbers. So how many are there precisely?” The president asked.
“The number of living infected people is twelve. I believe the confusion lies in the classification of the victims.” Dr Peters said, and cleared his throat. “The mortal phase relates to those people that are clinically still alive. Like I said earlier, there are precisely twelve. They are at the Montana facility, being studied and treated under level four bio-hazard protocols. Of course, there is nothing that can be done in the cases of those indiv
iduals who's metabolic processes have ceased, yet continue to-” he paused, then said “live.” He uttered the last word with a disturbed expression on his face.
“What is that last part supposed to mean? Is that why I have two sets of numbers regarding the infected?” The president asked in confusion.
“Put bluntly, Mr. President once an infected person dies, they reanimate as a zombie. At that point there is nothing that can be done other than destroy the brain. In my opinion, I'm afraid in those cases a bullet to the head is the only humane and certain cure. But there has been disagreement regarding what to do with them.” He looked as if he expected someone to laugh, but no one around the table was even smiling. While many laughed when they first heard the word zombie used, none were even close to smirking after they had all seen the top secret video footage of the reanimated bodies.
“But in summation to your question regarding a cure for infection, at this time the answer is no. No cure or anti-virus has been found although the search continues.” Dr. Peters said, sitting down.
The president slowly shook his head and lit a cigarette. After nearly a minute of smoking in silence he looked at General Whittaker, who was placed in command of cleaning up the Albuquerque Incident.
“That is how to give a brief and concise report General Whittaker. I'm going to ask you to address my first concern again. And all I want to hear is a yes or no. Is the Albuquerque Incident contained and done with?”
The general appeared uncomfortable as he stood and looked at the president. “Yes sir. It is contained and done with.”
“Good. Now if you gentlemen will excuse me I'm running late for a golf game.” The president said, quickly rising and walking out of the room.
As the meeting broke up Dr. Peters cornered General Whittaker.
“General, I think you just lied to the President of the United States of America. If containment was successful why do you have specially trained elite troops on standby in Albuquerque?”
“Dr. Peters, I have one word for you. Contingencies.” He said, then turned and walked out of the conference room.
Boris caught the Frisbee for the twentieth time, and for the twentieth time Billy shouted “Good boy.” Boris trotted over, sat at his feet, looking up with a slobber covered rubber disc in his mouth, tail thumping rapidly as if in complete agreement.
“Billy, come eat lunch!” Cheryl, called out from beside the picnic table. Sitting on a bench by the table, Maria sipped her glass of lemonade and watched as Josey pulled the last of the hamburgers off the grill and walked back to the table.
“Are you ever going to get your nose reset?” Cheryl asked, as he started assembling hamburger bun condiments.
“No onions on mine, please, and if you want to have any chance of romance tonight you'll skip them on yours too.” Maria said, watching as Boris and Billy ran up to the table.
“I would get it reset, but Maria thinks it makes me look sexy. Makes me look dangerous, sort of like an action hero.” He said, striking a heroic pose, while holding a slice of onion and tomato in each hand. “Maybe something like The Undertaker, he deals with the dead so you don't have to.”
Billy laughed as he sat down and wiped his hands on a moist paper towel his mom handed him. “Don't forget your faithful sidekick, Boris The Demon Dog.”
Josey leaned down and put a paper plate, filled with three good size well-done hamburgers on the ground. “He's a heroic dog, that’s for sure.”
Boris wolfed down the first patty within seconds.
“When do you get the cast off your foot?” Billy asked Maria, between bites of his hamburger while ketchup dribbled down his chin.
“Tomorrow. I know it’s only been five weeks but it feels like forever. It itches like a million ants are climbing my leg.” Maria said, between bites of potato chips.
“So, are you really going to marry Mr. Hitler?” Cheryl asked Maria, pointing a dill pickle up at Josey.
“That's The Undertaker, thank you very much.” Josey said, and then bit into his hamburger.
“Well, I'm not sure. Did you put onions on your buns?” Maria asked, suspiciously.
“Young lady, what I have or don't have on my buns is between me and my underwear.” He said, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
Billy burst out laughing and Cheryl and Maria joined in.
Boris wolfed down his hamburgers and turned when a car pulled into the parking lot. He growled, deep in his throat, as he saw Bo get out of the squad car and walk over. They all looked where the dog was staring.
“Easy Boris, I won't cuff anyone today unless Billy has been any trouble.” Bo said, smiling as he looked at the people around the table.
“No, don't tell me, not another briefing. Please not another one.” Josey said, looking nervously up at the deputy.
Bo smiled, “No, I think a month of interviews and official inquiries was enough. I know it was enough for me anyway.”
“Well then, have a seat. We have enough for one more.” Cheryl said, smiling up at Bo and scooting down the bench.
He sat down and they laughed and talked for a while.
Eventually, Bo looked at Billy and said “I bet Boris would like to go for a run and work off some of that food.”
Billy smiled, jumped up and took off running yelling “Come on Boris!”
They all watched them run for a few seconds and then looked at Bo expectantly.
Bo looked back and nodded. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out three envelopes, and handed them out.
Josey looked at his name printed on the envelope. “You got one too?”
Bo nodded and smiled sadly “I deposited it in my bank before I came here.”
I'm still confused. Why is it a check from the federal government when it was Beaumont Industries that caused the whole mess?” Maria asked, putting the envelope in her purse.
“Well you know part of it. You guys and I signed enough waivers and legal papers to last a lifetime while we we're in quarantine. They don't want anyone to ever know what happened out there and frankly I'd love to forget the whole thing too.” Bo said, as he watched the boy chase the dog.
“What's the other part? Why aren't they checks from Beaumont?” Josey asked.
“You didn't hear it from me, but-” he looked around the park in all directions then whispered. “I think they cut a deal, to develop the virus for military applications, and the government paid off Beaumont Industries as well.”
“You have got to be shitting me.” Josey whispered angrily.
“I shit you not and I'd suggest you forgot I even mentioned it. But you people deserve to know the truth.”
“Do you know what happened to the people at that store?” Cheryl asked.
He looked around the park again nervously and decided to take a chance. “The kid in the van was using her video camera and I eventually got to see the footage. Turns out this guy Issac had gotten infected and managed to find his way to the store. The video showed the girl's dad offer him a bottle of water and Issac started chasing him around the parking lot. It wasn't funny and yet the girl holding the video camera can be heard laughing her head off while he's being chased around. It could have been the start of a new nightmare if things didn't take an unexpected turn. The door to the store opened and the clerk came out swinging a baseball bat. She's a big lady and when she hit this Issac kid he was knocked out on the pavement.”
“So, that's it?” Josey asked.
“Almost. They got some duct tape from inside and wrapped him up. After they finished wrapping him up along came another kid who looked like he bought his clothes at the same store. Name was Jeremiah something or other and this kid was just tore all to shit but not infected. Someone said he suffered a concussion and couldn't even remember his name. Anyway, before the Issac kid woke up again the cops arrived, seized everyone and everything including the girl’s camera.” Bo said, sipping his lemonade.
“And that accounts for everyone who was down there. Everyone who made i
t out alive and uninfected?” Maria asked doubtfully.
“Why do you ask, and why are you staring at me like that?” Bo asked, looking slightly red- faced.
“You saw the man with the monkey, when we were in that scary laboratory place in Montana, don't deny it. Who was he? He was involved in it all somehow wasn't he?”
Bo sighed and shook his head. “I was the one who found him. Before the CDC ordered a lid on the whole place, the sheriff sent squads to check for any survivors. There's not much to say really. But, it was the weirdest damn thing I've ever seen.”
“What? What happened?” Josey asked, looking and sounding exasperated.
Bo checked to make certain Billy was still out of earshot and spoke slowly. “I went to the door of this really old trailer. There must have had fifty thousand dollars worth of drying marijuana on the porch outside. The door was locked so, with two deputies on either side of me holding shotguns ready, I kicked in the door. Adrenalin does funny things to a person. Plus, you guys have to remember it was a Hell of a day already for me.” He shook his head and rubbed his chin looking at the people around the table nervously.
Cheryl reached across the table and squeezed Bo's hand.
“You don't have to tell us anymore if it's too hard.” Cheryl said, softly.
“No. It's okay. I still have nightmares about it. Maybe talking it out will help. I sure can't tell anyone else about what happened. They'd think I was nuts.” Bo said, sipped some more lemonade and continued.
“I was the first to go in and I was scared. I know cops aren't supposed to be scared but I was. There was a giant snake in the corner of the room that looked like it was moving toward me. When I say giant snake, what I mean is long and thick like a monster. I freaked out and fired my shotgun at it. The other two deputies moved up and opened fired too. Altogether, we must have shot the damn thing twenty times.”