H7N9: The Complete Series [Books 1-3]

by Campbell, Mark

  “Will I get more troops to accompany any new civilians?”

  “If research needs more people, let us know and we will send more trains,” liver spots repeated.

  If the work was so important, then why were they upsetting the status quo? He needed more soldiers and food, not more fucking civilians to feed. He thought about pointing that out, but he didn’t think it would do any good.

  “Speaking of the research,” the stony-faced general with the crewcut interrupted. “Has there been any progress to report to that end?”

  Hammond tried to recall what that researcher with the annoying nasally voice had tried to impress him with over the phone in the morning, but he could not remember anything that made sense. He had been too drunk and too busy wallowing in his own sorrows to pay attention to a bunch of science jargon. “None that I know of.”

  The room fell silent at the news for several moments as the grandfather clock ticked on unabated.

  “In any case,” general crew-cut said, clearing his throat. “You have your new operating orders. Advise your security operations lieutenant…” He looked down at a piece of paper, reading a name. “Lieutenant Hock.”

  As if he didn’t know who his own fucking security operations lieutenant was, Hammond thought angrily. “When will they come to pick up the food surplus?”

  “They’re doing it right now,” liver spots quickly replied.

  Hammond looked at the screen, mouth agape.

  No notice?

  No anything?

  “Gentlemen,” general crewcut said before Hammond could cut-in. “This meeting is adjourned.”

  One by one the monitors went black and Hammond was left sitting alone in a dark room.

  Hammond gave a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose with his boney fingers. Another migraine was coming fast—he needed a drink. Groaning like a man twice his age, he forced himself to get out of his seat and step out into the hallway.

  His security detail followed.

  Hammond, shoulders drooping, slowly made his way across the hall towards one of the windows

  He placed an open palm against the chilly glass pane and peered out towards the camp.

  As if on cue, two Boeing CH-47 Chinook transport helicopters ascended from helipads located behind the camp’s central storage building.

  “Bastards,” Hammond whispered.

  Both helicopters banked away from the camp and headed west.

  Seconds later, one of the camp’s vehicle gates opened and a Humvee sped furiously along the dirt road headed towards the farmhouse and left a large plume of dust and bits of gravel in its wake.

  Hammond couldn’t make out the face of the driver, but he was sure it was Hock coming to express his displeasure about the matter. He really didn’t feel like dealing with Hock or anyone else for that matter—he just wanted a drink and to be left alone.

  He turned away from the window, yawned, and started shuffling back towards his chambers. He tightened the knot around his robe as he walked with all the grace and poise of a corpse.

  The two agents followed.

  Hammond stopped, and turned towards one of the men. “Go get me a drink,” he ordered with surprising robustness in his voice.

  The agent stared at him with an indignant expression. His job was security—not concierge-service. He opened his mouth to object, but there was a hard look in Hammond’s eyes that made him fall silent. “Yes, sir.” He turned and abruptly retreated down the hall.

  Hammond continued forward once more. His frustration with the generals, his anger about the food situation, and his annoyance with Hock’s impending arrival faded into a mental haze. Slowly and insidiously, thoughts about Laura started to swim up from the murky depths of his subconscious.

  God, he needed a drink to drown the thoughts.

  He winced and turned towards the man in the suit who was already well down the hallway.

  “As a matter of fact,” Hammond called out. “Bring me the whole goddamn bottle.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Hours passed, yet, remarkably, the cheap plastic flashlight that sat in the middle of the table still emitted a soft, flickering glow.

  The light was dull and fading fast, but it lasted long enough to allow Teddy and Roger to play their gin rummy marathon uninterrupted.

  Teddy never was much of a card player, but he discovered that he caught on pretty quick. He grinned when Roger was taken aback after he beat him somewhere around the second hour.

  It was well past noon and they had long since stopped taking score, but both men were cracking jokes and chitchatting about the most trivial things—as if they were unwinding at some rundown speakeasy after work with a drink in one hand and a cigar in the other.

  It was a welcome change for Teddy.

  He had been able to get his mind off of Ein, the virus, the camp, and even Jane—if only for a little bit.

  Then, like a shrill alarm clock intruding on a pleasant dream, a burst of gunfire and distant shouting brought Teddy crashing back to reality.

  There were no drinks nor were there any cigars—just a dusty old building full of molding corpses.

  A burst of gunfire echoed from what sounded a few rooms over and caused both men to jump.

  Roger folded his hand on the table and looked over at Teddy. “Sounds like they’re getting close… I figure we better cut this short and go pretend to do some work somewhere.”

  “I reckon you’re right,” Teddy tossed his cards on the table and shrugged. “I didn’t have anything good anyway.”

  “It didn’t matter if you did,” Roger said with a grin as he scooped up the cards and started putting them back into the case. “You wouldn’t know how to play them!”

  Teddy leaned back in his wooden chair and crossed his arms over his chest with a smug smile. “I beat your crusty ass a few times, didn’t I?”

  “You got lucky,” Roger quipped as he tucked the deck back into his pocket. “In fact—” He was interrupted when the storage room door flung open and sent the doorknob crashing against the wall.

  Both Teddy and Roger jumped off of their seats, stood, and spun towards the door in shock.

  A middle-aged woman and a young girl bolted into the room, breathing wildly.

  The woman wore a tattered, dirty dress and a man’s leather jacket. Her unkempt blonde hair was wild and her bloodshot eyes were full of fear. Her unnaturally pale face was covered with droplets of sweat.

  The young girl standing next to her looked no older than eight and appeared just as dazed and disoriented as the woman did. Droplets of sweat ran down her chubby cheeks.

  Teddy’s heart sank at the sight of the two wide-eyed strangers and a hard knot formed in his throat—he couldn’t help but see two familiar faces in theirs.

  The woman slammed the door shut behind her and pressed her back against it, holding it shut.

  Roger leaned closer to get a better look. “Lady, what are you—”

  “Please,” the woman said in a raspy voice. “Help us… The soldiers are chasing us.” She erupted into a coughing spasm.

  “Jesus, Teddy!” Roger exclaimed. He quickly put his mask on and stepped back. “She’s sick.”

  “Please,” the woman begged weakly as the little girl looked up at her with concern.

  Roger studied the little girl’s feverish face and took another step back. “The girl is sick, too… they both are.”

  Teddy had been on death’s door himself not too terribly long ago back in Tucson, yet there he was—alive, ducking work, and playing gin rummy with some old Midwestern rancher who had a penchant for trying to palm cards under the table. The fact that the woman and child were sick didn’t mean very much to him. The chances were slim, but they could recover.

  “They’re both sick,” Roger pointedly repeated as if the message had not gone through the first time.

  Teddy turned and glared at him. “I can see that,” he said with more frustration than he intended. “What do we do?”


  Roger looked over at the woman and child, thinking.

  They stared back at him with fearful expressions—waiting.

  Teddy’s anxiety rose as he heard the chatter of police radios approach closer. “Well?” he asked impatiently.

  “If the cops get them, they’re goners,” Roger said with a frown.

  “Where would they take them? What’s the nearest quarantine center?” Teddy asked.

  Roger gave him a sorrowful look and shook his head. “There are none for the sick anymore… They don’t deal with folks showing symptoms. They… take other measures.”

  “Then we have to do something,” Teddy announced, nervously glancing around the room.

  “Do what?”

  “Anything!” Teddy bellowed. His eyes latched on the door marked with the ‘35mm slide storage’ placard.

  “Come on,” Teddy told the woman as he hurried towards the door. “Follow me and stay quiet.”

  The woman nodded and hurried behind him holding the little girl’s hand in tow.

  Roger picked up the flashlight and focused the dying beam on the storage room. “I don’t like this, hoss.” Beads of nervous sweat formed across his brow.

  “Yeah, well I don’t like seeing innocent people get mowed down,” Teddy said as he opened the door and swung it open. “They deserve a chance. I mean, shit, we had one, right?”

  Roger didn’t argue.

  Teddy ushered the woman and the small girl into the dusty storage room and had them crouch down between stacks of moldy old cardboard boxes that appeared to have been untouched long before the virus struck. “Stay here and keep quiet until I get you. You’re going to be safe. I promise.”

  The woman nodded, tears gleaming in her eyes. “Thank you,” she responded weakly.

  Teddy shut the door, put on his mask, and went back out to Roger.

  “Now what?” Roger asked.

  “We wait.”

  The main door swung inwards and two FEMA officers wearing riot gear and gasmasks peered into the room. Their stenciled breastplates read Topeka Federal Police across the front along with their unit number.

  The officers pointed the tactical lights attached to the barrel of their carbines into the room. Two dazzling white rays pierced through the semi-darkness of the room.

  Both Teddy and Roger squinted and shielded their face with their palms. The yellow strips on their reflective safety vests shimmered under the light’s bright beams.

  “Why are you two hiding out in here?” one of the officers asked through his respirators in a husky voice.

  “Working, what else?” Roger asked as he pointed aimlessly towards one of the corners of the room. “These plowfucks left shit plugged in just about everywhere… Gotta check every nook and cranny, dontcha know.”

  Neither officer bothered to check in the direction that Roger pointed at—they clearly had more pressing concerns. “Did you see a woman come through?”

  “Yeah, and a girl,” Teddy answered. He pointed a thumb over towards the right. “They panicked when they saw us and ran out towards the front.”

  The officers sprinted away in the direction Teddy indicated, breaths labored through their restrictive masks.

  “That was too close,” Roger said with relief as he clutched his chest with one hand and wiped his forehead with the other.

  Teddy waited for a few seconds. Then he went to the open door and stuck his head outside to peer into the darkness.

  The records department appeared clear. Only the scattered trinkets of the dead occupied the countless cubicles.

  Teddy hurried back inside and opened the storage room.

  The little girl sneezed.

  “Are they gone?” the woman whispered.

  “They’re gone, but you need to hurry before they circle back,” Teddy said. He led the woman and the girl out of the room. “Sneak out the back—if it isn’t safe, then just hide and wait. I don’t think these cops are going to search all night for you. Rest, if you can, and drink lots of water. You can beat this flu.”

  “I can’t thank you enough,” the woman said as tears welled up in her eyes. Her rheumy look reminded Teddy far too much of Jane’s sobs during her final moments.

  For one brief moment, he saw Jane in the stranger’s face.

  Pain needled at his heart.

  “Just go!” Teddy ordered curtly.

  The woman and the child took off running and disappeared into the darkness.

  Teddy turned to face Roger.

  “Took a big risk,” Roger said, studying his face.

  “I’d do it again, if I had to.”

  “If they searched the room…”

  “They didn’t though, did they?” Teddy asked sharply. “Besides, now those two have a chance.”

  “Nothing good lasts for long in this world anymore, hoss,” Roger said with a frown.

  “There has to be some good left out there,” Teddy said as he stared at him. “Otherwise, what the fuck is the point of moving forward?”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Roger said with a thin smile.

  An old-fashioned air raid siren went off and made Teddy jump.

  “That’s our cue,” Roger said as he brushed past Teddy. “Quitting time.”

  A faraway voice shouted through a loudspeaker: All civilian work details report back to your bus at once! You have five minutes!

  Roger whistled behind his paper mask, sauntered out of the room, and passed along the empty cubicles. He kept the flashlight’s failing beam pointed at the floor taking care not to trip over the mess left behind.

  Teddy adjusted his mask and followed. He kept glancing uneasily over his shoulder as if he expected to see the woman’s face emerge out from the shadows. “Is all of this what you’d call a normal day?”

  “You betcha,” Roger answered with a nod. “Aside from that little sideshow at the end, that is.” He adjusted his pants as he kept walking. “When we’re outside clearing roads or digging ditches, we have to do some work, but it’s easy breezy when we’re assigned inside.”

  Teddy couldn’t picture himself ever getting accustomed to it. As far as he was concerned, he wouldn’t have to worry about it—as soon as he found Ein he planned to make an escape.

  The details of the yet-to-be-concocted escape weren’t coming together in his head.

  They couldn’t.

  He was too tired, too hungry, and too damn thirsty to do much thinking.

  The two men left the records department and followed the others down the main corridor towards the exit.

  A few FEMA officers stood in sentry positions against the wall with rifles across their chests, watching.

  Rubber flaps covered the exit doors and sheets of plastic were stapled along the walls. The worn plastic was marked with faded CDC logos and had its many rips and holes sloppily patched with duct tape. A string of halogen work lights dangled from the ceiling.

  The people at the front of the line dropped their flashlights into waiting plastic crates and then raised their hands as the passed through the flaps.

  “What’s this about?” Teddy asked.

  “Decontamination,” Roger explained as he dumped his flashlight and raised his hands over his head. “Get used to it… They do it every time we leave to go back to camp.”

  “Great,” Teddy muttered as he slowly brought his hands up.

  Roger passed through the plastic flaps. “Remember not to—” His voice was drowned out by the generator nearby.

  “Not to what?” Teddy asked, unable to understand him. He passed through the flaps and found himself in a makeshift plastic tunnel that led down onto the courtyard.

  Two people wearing sealed white biological protection suits stared at him through their mirrored visors. Both of the white-suits had chemical foggers attached to their backs and kept the device’s nozzles pointed at Teddy as he stepped through.

  “Move forward!” one of the white-suits ordered in a garbled voice through a speaker attached to its chest. “Arms up!” />
  Teddy kept walking and was inundated by a thick white mist that burned his eyes and stole the air out of his lungs. He gasped ineffectively for air and staggered forward through the next set of flaps, snatching his mask off in the process. After he emerged outside, he nearly collapsed.

  “You alright?” Roger asked

  Teddy slouched down and placed his hands on his knees with wide-eyes. He wheezed and gasped as he slowly caught his breath.

  Roger extended a hand, chuckling. “I told you not to breathe.”

  Teddy weakly grabbed his hand and stood back up. “You didn’t tell me shit,” he managed to say in a hoarse whisper.

  “You just didn’t listen.” Roger shrugged. “I’m beginning to think that’s half of your problem, hoss.” He followed the others across the street and out into the courtyard. He crumpled up his mask and tossed it inside a waiting trash bin.

  “My ears aren’t the problem,” Teddy said as he followed after him. “It’s your accent—nobody can understand that shit.”

  “You’re one to talk,” Roger said with a grin. “That Texas twang takes some getting used to.” He looked off into the distance and his grin immediately faded. He turned his attention back to the road ahead and began walking away quickly. “Just follow me. There isn’t nothing to be done now…”

  Teddy coughed into the crook of his arm and followed him. “What are babbling on about now?”

  A drone buzzed low overhead, and Teddy followed it with his eyes. His attention was pulled towards the street and he quickly realized what Roger must’ve seen.

  Teddy stopped walking, dropped his crumpled mask, and stared down the street in a dazed stupor. The other workers did not pay him too much attention, and simply walked around him when he got in the way.

  Down the street, three idling prisoner transport wagons were crammed with frightened men, women, and children that had been plucked from inside the building.

  Officers gathered around the back of the vehicles, stuffed a final few inside, and then locked the doors.

  Drones hovered overhead.

  What horrified Teddy though, lay further in distance.

  Past the wagons, at the far end of the courtyard, stood a line of sick people with their eyes blindfolded and their hands bound behind their backs. They were coughing and hunched down—cowering before a line of officers who had their weapons pointed at them.