H7N9: The Complete Series [Books 1-3]

by Campbell, Mark

  Lance Corporal Devin Reyes sat on a wooden crate behind him and read by grace of the moonlight. He was a tall, lanky Hispanic man who kept his wool hat pulled down tight over his bald head. His weapon lay across his lap, and he held a weathered old bible open in his hands. “You need to relax—shift change is in two hours.”

  “Relax, my ass!” Kirton spun towards him and gestured around at the darkened port. “We’re sitting out here in the open!” He paced, shaking his head. “They can’t keep me out here in the cold like this! I’m filing an official grievance with command the first chance I get!”

  Reyes calmly turned a page without looking up. “No enemies are operating in the area. We’ll be fine.”

  “According to who—Command?” Kirton sneered.

  “Thermal imaging showed no large groupings, no?”

  Kirton snorted and shook his head. “I don’t trust a word that comes out of Cheyanne Mountain.”

  “Truthfully, nor do I,” Reyes said as he scanned the page. “I put my faith in God, not man.”

  “I don’t have a problem with mankind, but I do have an issue with the snakes that we call leaders.” Kirton lit his cigarette and turned to stare back out at the river. “They’re the ones responsible for this, I bet.”

  “Responsible for what?” Reyes glanced up at him.

  “The virus,” he explained in a muted tone. “This wasn’t like any flu virus I’ve ever seen before… I bet they cooked this up in the same lab where they made AIDS and Ebola.”

  Reyes chuckled and shook his head. “Man didn’t do this… It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

  Kirton took a long drag and blew the smoke up in the air before turning to face Reyes. “What’s obvious?”

  “The one who did this isn’t a man at all.” Reyes closed his bible and waved it in the air with a maniac’s smile. “Read Revelations, my friend.”

  Kirton waved a hand at him. “Get out of here with that fundamentalist garbage! If God wanted to kill off most of the population, he’d find a better way.” He flicked what remained of his cigarette on the ground and stomped it out. “Our government made a superbug that accidentally got out… It’s that simple.”

  “Believe what you want.” Reyes shrugged and went back to thumbing his way through Luke.

  “I believe in the fact that it’s as cold as a witch’s teat and that they didn’t issue us proper winter uniforms.” Kirton rubbed his hands together again and shivered. “I’m filing a separate grievance on the uniform issue, believe me.”

  “We’ll be inside where it’s warm, soon enough,” Reyes assured him.

  “Not soon enough.” Kirton sighed and glanced down at his watch again. “What time is the team from Atlanta supposed to be here?”

  “Sunrise, according to what I heard.”

  Kirton cocked a brow and looked at him. “Heard from who—God or an actual source?”

  “Always mocking…” Reyes shook his head and turned a page.

  “I’m just saying, that’s all.” Kirton held his arms out at his side. “Sunrise isn’t a clear ETA. That’s the best they could give us?”

  “Sunrise,” Reyes repeated. “That’s all that the captain told me.”

  “I’ll be dead with pneumonia before then,” Kirton grumbled. He crossed his arms over his chest and peered out at the water.

  The dull hum of an engine downriver was growing louder with every passing second.

  “I hear something!” Kirton exclaimed.

  Reyes dropped his bible, grabbed his weapon, and got on his feet. His hands shook as he squeezed onto the riffle, and his eyes widened with fear. “Where?!”

  “Out on the water!” Kirton picked up his rifle, clicked on the tactical flashlight, and scanned the dark Mississippi’s muddy water.

  An airboat drifted aimlessly along the surface, bumped against the dock, spun around, and drifted out into the open water once again.

  Kirton relaxed once he realized that the controls were unmanned. He lowered his rifle and turned off the flashlight. “False alarm… Current must’ve pulled one of the boats from the dock.”

  “Thank God.” Reyes put his weapon down, picked his bible up, and took a seat once more.

  A voice came over their radios: Lemma Station to perimeter security points, status report.

  Voices sounded off in sequence.

  Northern Point is clear. Nothing to report.

  Lemma, all is quiet at Southern Point.

  Control, no disturbances at Western Point.

  Kirton keyed his mic. “Eastern Point is all-clear.”

  Lemma Station copies all. Shift rotation in two hours—over.

  “Two more hours…” Kirton groaned in aggravation and glanced impatiently at his watch.

  “It’d go by a lot faster if you stopped complaining,” Reyes said as he turned a page.

  “If you got your nose out of that book and were capable of holding a normal conversation, maybe I would stop griping so much.”

  “You should pull up a seat and read a bit yourself,” Reyes said, tapping the bible. “You might just learn something.”

  Kirton leaned his rifle against one of the dock’s concrete pillars. He pulled a can of chewing tobacco out of his vest’s pocket and shoved a wad of it in his mouth. “Is that a direct order, corporal?”

  “Just a friendly suggestion for your eternal soul, private.” Reyes traced a finger down the page and continued reading without looking up.

  “My soul is just fine.” Kirton stuffed the snuff back in his pocket. “My ears and sanity are what’s in jeopardy.”

  Reyes frowned and turned a page. “Mind the rank, private. If you have nothing positive to say, then maybe it’s best if we spend the next two hours in silence.”

  “Yes, sir, corporal,” Kirton said mockingly. He pointed over at a stack of cargo containers. “May I be excused to take a piss over there, corporal?”

  Reyes nodded and waved one hand dismissively in the air.

  Kirton shook his head, hiked his pants up, and marched past Reyes. As he passed, he spat his wad of tobacco on the ground. “Stuck-up prick.”

  He walked in-between two cargo containers, unzipped, and started urinating in the shadows.

  A figure emerged out of the shadows behind him.

  Just as Kirton zipped up, a jagged sliver of glass cut across his throat.

  Kirton hastily turned to face his attacker with wide, dying eyes as blood gushed out of his gaping wound. He grasped his bloodied throat, gurgled, and collapsed face down on the asphalt.

  Ein looked down in abject horror at what he had done. His face was colorless, and his hands were trembling. He bent down and took the dead man’s radio as well as his belt.

  He patted him down for a weapon, but there was nothing—the rifle was still propped against the pillar by the river.

  Instead, Ein took off the man’s belt and pulled it taut between his hands.

  Reyes sat slouched on the crate as he finished flipping through the Gospel of Luke and moved onto the Gospel of John.

  Heavy, rapid footsteps approached Reyes from behind.

  Reyes didn’t turn around.

  “Kirton, listen, and you might learn… In the beginning, was the Word,” Reyes read aloud. “The Word was with—” His words were snuffed out as the belt wrapped around his throat.

  His panic grew as his body jerked helplessly.

  The rifle that had been lying across his lap went tumbling to the ground.

  Ein pushed a knee against the man’s back, pulling back as hard as he could.

  Reyes’ eyes grew bloodshot and bulged out of their sockets as he clawed at the belt, and desperately tried to suck in air. Despite his fanciful speeches of life after death, he dug his fingernails into Ein’s hands and drew blood as he fought for each second with the ferocity of a man who, in fact, feared his own mortality very much indeed.

  Ein didn’t relent and kept the belt pulled tight even as tears ran down his cheeks. He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted h
is teeth through the pain.

  Finally, Reyes succumbed.

  Ein let go and stepped back as Reyes’ limp body fell off of the crate and sprawled atop his open bible.

  He picked the rifle up and scurried away from the corpse as if it were going to reanimate at a moment’s notice.

  A part of him expected sirens and spotlights, but all the fanfare that he was greeted with was the constant hum of the diesel generators that powered the trailers.

  Ein stared wide-eyed at the trailers as he held the rifle shakily in his hands.

  Was Teddy even inside?

  It was one hell of a question to ask himself after killing two men.

  Teddy had to be in there, Ein figured—it was the only place around that even had lights.

  The better question was if Teddy was still alive, but Ein didn’t dare try to tackle that one just yet.

  He had to get inside.

  He had to find Teddy.

  Ein steadied his hands, fumbled with the weapon’s safety, and hurried towards the trailer’s entrance.

  CHAPTER 24

  The trailer reeked of strong chemical disinfectant, and the high-powered LEDs on the ceiling bathed the narrow room in a harsh, clinical light. Yellow hazmat suits and army parkas hung on both walls. Sealed pressurized doors were on opposite sides of the trailer. A placard on the wall read in silver letters: U.S. ARMY RAPID MEDICAL RESPONSE MOBILE FIELD UNIT.

  Ein stood in the middle of the room and looked at the doors, unsure of where to go next. He kept an unsteady finger wrapped gently around the trigger—ready to squeeze at a moment’s notice.

  His eyes shifted from one door to the other.

  Two doors and no idea which way to go.

  A gnawing sensation ate at the pit of his stomach.

  A part of him felt like a detached spectator who watched helplessly at the horrific works his hands seemed to perform on their own accord.

  He wanted to turn and run away, but something even stronger than fear goaded him to continue onward—he felt beholden to the man.

  After all, it wasn’t long ago that Teddy had risked everything to free him from that lab.

  Ein believed that Teddy would do it all over again if he had to.

  The least—the very least—that Ein could do was to get him out of that place.

  He owed him that much.

  Ein took a right and headed towards one of the doors.

  The door had a narrow window down the center of it and a keypad lock.

  Ein pressed his face against the glass and peered inside.

  The room had four small steel desks in it and a card table in the middle. An old Dungeons & Dragons gameboard sat on the card table along with a plethora of homemade game pieces. A chubby man with long dark hair and wearing a laboratory coat lay with his feet propped up on one of the desks, fast asleep.

  Ein frowned and backed away from the door. There was no way he could sneak through without waking the man up and rousing unwanted attention.

  He turned and headed across the room towards the other door.

  Footsteps approached.

  Ein snatched one of the army parkas off of the wall, put it on, and pulled the hood over his head. He looked down and kept his rifle close. All he could do was pray that his hastily put together disguise was convincing enough to avoid further scrutiny.

  The door slid open with a hydraulic hiss, and Dr. Lance Jones walked into the room.

  Jones wore a white lab coat and was speaking into a digital recorder. “—is stable for transport. Detected unusually high levels of globulin. Recommending a secondary liver function test to confirm initial findings.”

  The doctor brushed past Ein without a second glance and headed towards the office.

  Ein let out a sigh of relief as he hurried through the open door and passed between two rows of refrigerated cases. He glanced anxiously over his shoulder, but nobody was following him.

  He heard voices approaching.

  Ein ducked between two of the refrigeration units and hid in the shadows.

  Three FEMA officers carrying submachine guns walked past him on patrol. They laughed and joked as they passed through to the next section.

  Ein emerged from cover and continued on.

  Inside the next section, Ein squeezed by two scientists who were standing next to a water cooler and chatting.

  Ein kept his head low and hurried through the gangway into the next trailer.

  The room had rows of protective suits and surgical smocks hooked on one of the walls, while a glassed-in laboratory took up the other half of the room. Rows of centrifuges and powerful microscopes sat neatly along the center of a silver table in the empty lab.

  A voice came over the radio in his pocket: Lemma Station to perimeter security, what’s your status?

  Other voices responded.

  Northern Point is still clear.

  Southern Point has nothing to report.

  Western Point is clear.

  A pause.

  Lemma Station to Eastern Point—report.

  Silence.

  The voice became louder, urgent: Lemma Station to Eastern Point, report!

  Still, no response.

  Lemma Station to Southern Point, get a visual on Eastern Point.

  Southern Point copies and is en route.

  Ein came to a windowless steel door with a biohazard placard on it. He pressed a hand against the sensor and waited as the sally port depressurized.

  The light above the door turned green, and the steel sally port doors slid open.

  Ein cautiously entered the room. It looked like some sort of surgical suite. He pulled his parka’s hood back as he stared ahead at the body on the gurney. “Teddy…?”

  Teddy was wearing a hospital gown and was strapped down to the gurney with an IV line fed into each forearm. Wires were attached to his body and were hooked up to monitors that surrounded his bedside.

  A surgical light hung overhead and threw a spotlight down on his unconscious body.

  “Teddy!” Ein ran towards him and pushed the light aside. He started shaking him by the shoulders. “Come on, man… Snap out of it—wake up!”

  Teddy’s puffy lids fluttered open, and his dilated pupils turned towards him. He mumbled incoherently.

  “We have to get you out of here,” Ein urged as he unfastened the nylon straps. “Can you walk?”

  Teddy started to close his eyes…

  “Hey!” Ein shook him again, harder. “Stay with me!”

  Teddy mumbled and opened his eyes. He looked around the room with a confused, delirious gaze. “Where… am I?”

  “Somewhere bad.” Ein finished unfastening the straps, and started ripping the wires and electrodes from his body. “We have to go.”

  The monitoring equipment started beeping and chiming urgently with alarms.

  “Can you sit up?”

  “I think…” Teddy managed to get halfway up and then fell back onto the gurney. He groaned and shook his head. “Goddamn body… feels like jelly.”

  Ein grabbed one of the parkas off of the wall and handed it to Teddy.

  Teddy managed to rise slowly and put the parka on. He swung his legs off of the gurney and slouched down, breathing heavily. “I… need a moment, kid.”

  A voice started screaming over the radio: Southern Point to Lemma Station! Eastern Point is down. I repeat, Eastern Point is down! Two men are KIA!

  Suddenly, the overhead lights turned red, and an alarm started whooping throughout the facility. An announcement echoed from the overhead speakers: attention—security breach—lockdown in effect—please shelter in place immediately.

  “No time! We have to go.” Ein brought Teddy’s arm around his neck and helped him stand.

  Teddy staggered drunkenly and slouched against Ein. His knees shook and started to buckle.

  Ein laboriously led him towards the sally port doors on the opposite side of the room. He carried the rifle with one hand and kept it pointed at the doors as he app
roached.

  An order came over the radio: Sweep the trailers and secure the perimeter!

  Teddy stumbled alongside, his feet floundering with each step.

  Sweat broke out across Ein’s forehead as he neared the sally port. He pressed the button with his elbow and waited as the pressurization level cycled.

  Behind them, the light above the sally port on the opposite side of the room turned green, and the doors slid open.

  A group of officers started to enter the room.

  One of the officers keyed his mic. “Hostiles are in the central sterile room!”

  Lemma Station to all security units! Selective-fire only—do not harm Atlanta’s test subject!

  Ein pointed his rifle at them and pulled the trigger.

  Bullets flew wild and shattered the monitors that surrounded the gurney. They ricocheted off of the tiled floor and struck the oxygen canisters. Ruptured tanks skittered across the room like rockets as they bashed into walls and knocked over storage shelves.

  The officers ducked and dodged out of the path of the flying projectiles.

  The sally port doors opened.

  Ein carried Teddy through, turned, and pointed the rifle back into the room as the doors started to slide close once again.

  The officers got off of the ground and ran towards the sally port, but they were too slow.

  As soon as the doors shut, Ein fired at the control panel until his magazine was spent.

  The control panel threw a shower of sparks, and the mechanism spritzed out a hydraulic fluid.

  Ein heard banging coming from the other side and listened to the men working to pry the doors open. He dropped his empty rifle and put his other hand around Teddy’s waist to support him. “That won’t hold for long. Let’s keep moving.”

  The longer Teddy walked, the stronger his legs seemed to grow.

  They walked down the middle of another glassed-in laboratory.

  Two scientists fell to their knees and ducked behind tables as they passed.

  When they arrived at another rubber gangway, Ein stopped in the middle.

  “What are you doing?” Teddy asked in a weak, slurry voice.

  “Wait.” Ein let go of him.