by Hunt, Jack
“What kind of virus are you looking at?” she asked as he turned his back to jot down a few notes.
“The kind that requires shutting down an entire town,” he said. It wasn’t his position to explain to her what was happening. The whole project was shrouded in secrecy and he reported to the CDC and Lynch, that was it. Yet on the other hand, he wanted her to understand that it wasn’t just the hospital that had been quarantined. At the bare minimum he could offer her that kind of information.
Four hours later, Colonel Lynch was getting an update from one of the soldiers on the situation inside the town when Sorenson approached her. “A moment of your time.”
“Certainly.” She turned back to the soldier and told him to keep her informed of any changes. As it stood, things were quiet at each of the checkpoints and locals were taking it all in stride but that wouldn’t last. If they didn’t get on top of this fast, determine who was infected and isolate them, they would have a war on their hands. Citizens wouldn’t put up with being held prisoner in their own town without just cause, and as they couldn’t say much the situation had the potential to get volatile.
Lynch jerked her head towards an empty office and Sorenson followed her in.
“Close the door behind you.”
She took a seat and pulled in close to the desk.
“How have the tests been coming along?”
“Slow. You are aware of how many patients and staff are in this place?”
“What have been the results so far?” she asked without answering his question. She wasn’t going to get into it with him. They had a job to do and that was it.
“Based on the blood samples taken from the deceased soldiers we’ve been able to compare that with those here and determine who is and who isn’t infected but again it’s a slow process to get through everyone. It appears there are signs of it showing in the bloodstream within the first few hours of infection, and by the twelve-hour mark you are looking at external signs — flu-like symptoms, thickening of skin and mucus etcetera. Strangely enough I have managed to find six people who are showing signs of infection in the blood but aren’t showing any symptoms, which could just mean they are immune. I won’t know without at least another twenty-four hours of observation.”
Lynch nodded. “Well that’s at least promising. And if they are immune?”
“We would go about making an antivirus.” He paused and stared at her. “Colonel, may I speak straight with you?”
“Feel free,” she replied leaning back in her seat.
“What is going to happen to those who are infected?”
“They will be isolated until they die.”
“And what of those in the town? The ones we aren’t going to be able to test? People who might be infected. You can’t honestly think that the military can hold all of them with those checkpoints.”
“Daniel, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Daniel, you stick to running tests and leave the rest to us. This isn’t our first rodeo and I doubt it will be our last.”
Chapter 10
Sergio and Lars had managed to elude the soldiers using ATVs. It took them a good fifty minutes to arrive at Viola’s burial site. The plan was to dig up her body, and haul her carcass up to the mountains where they could find a more discreet and less obvious final resting place. He couldn’t have anyone stumbling across it. His DNA was on her and that’s what had given him cause for worry over the past five days. What if someone found her? What if they managed to get him on DNA? Why hadn’t he worn gloves? He’d thought of everything else except that. He hopped off the bike and turned on a bright flashlight. Lars arrived a minute after him. He killed the engine and pulled down his American flag bandanna that was covering the lower half of his face.
“Did you see how many soldiers there were?” Lars asked.
“Don’t worry about that and just give me a hand.”
They trudged down into the valley, scanning the terrain and washing the light over the landscape. As it was now nighttime it was harder to locate her but he’d set down a reflector nestled into the rocks to use as a guide just in case he had to come back at night. He kept raking the flashlight until he saw it glimmer.
“There we go. Up ahead.”
“Sergio, I don’t like this. Why don’t you just get out of town? Go visit your brother in Mexico.”
“Yeah, and how that’s going to look? Hell no, that cow might have screwed up my life while she was alive but she’s not doing it now she’s dead. I’m staying put.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Why, you thinking of leaving?”
“It’s crossed my mind,” Lars replied. “I just want to put this all behind me.”
“And we are. Tonight we’ll bury her and no one will find her.”
“What about the town?”
“What about it?” Sergio said without looking at him and trudging on.
“If the military is stopping people, maybe we should just lay low for a while. Head up to El Paso. My sister is up there and we can spend a few weeks kicking back.”
“Be my guest. I’m not leaving. I don’t have the time to—” Sergio suddenly went quiet. “Shit. Shit. Shit!” he cried out, his voice getting louder by the second. He sprinted forward to the area where they’d buried Viola only to find a hole in the ground. “No. No. This can’t be right. She was right here.”
“Are you sure this is the hole?” Lars asked scanning the dark landscape. “I mean it’s dark out here. Perhaps you got it wrong.”
“I know this is.” Sergio dropped down to his knees and began digging with his hands, throwing back large amounts of loose desert sand. “She was right here. I know it.”
“Sergio,” Lars said shining his light a few feet away. “There are boot prints leading in and out of this place.” Sergio scrambled up and followed the path up and out of the valley, his mind rushing with thoughts of the worst. What if it was the cops? Would they come searching for him? No. It would take them time to do an autopsy but…he trailed off thinking about all the scenarios. It only ended one way and that was with them finding his DNA and then wanting to take a swab.
“I said we shouldn’t have buried her here.”
Sergio spun around, rage getting the better of him. He grabbed Lars and shook him like a rag doll. “This is your fault.”
“Mine?”
“I wanted to head out here earlier this week but you wouldn’t go.”
“I had work. I’m sorry my life prevented you from covering your tracks to a murder but maybe you shouldn’t have killed her in the first place.”
“What?”
“She hadn’t done anything wrong, Sergio.”
“She was going to cheat on me. She was cheating on me.”
“You’re deluded, man.”
Sergio pushed him away and took out his Glock and aimed at him. “What’s that? Huh? What did you say?” He pressed the gun against the side of his head and dared him to say another word. Lars remained quiet. Just as he thought, all mouth and no action. Seeing Lars wasn’t going to be a problem he pulled the piece away from his head and continued on trudging up a steep incline following the tracks.
“What if it is the cops?” Lars asked.
“If they found her today, I hardly think they are going to have a chance to do an autopsy, with what’s going on in the town and all. So we have a window of opportunity.”
He didn’t need to explain to him what he meant by that, he knew.
Sergio wasn’t going down for this.
Devan’s father lived in a dated shack at the far end of North Gonzales Street. It was literally on the perimeter of the town. Beyond that was the desert plains, nothing but miles of grit, dust and sand for as far as the eye could see. After the sun had set, Emerick had driven with his lights off to avoid military patrolling the streets. Before Devan’s mother had run off with some sleaze ball she’d met in a bar in Marfa, they’d lived in a fairly decent neighborhood — North Gonzales
didn’t even come close. On either side of the road were trailers. Barring one modern adobe-style house close to Emerick’s, the whole neighborhood looked like a run-down trailer park. It was cheap, and his father had bought the place after some old-timer passed away and the trailer sat on the market for the better part of a year.
Emerick parked the Chevy under a carport beside a busted-up Jeep Wrangler that had the rear wheels off. It was a work in progress, something that he was planning on passing down to Devan, at least that’s what he said but he’d never really got around to doing anything except take the wheels off. It was quiet when they got out. A glow of yellow emanated from the neighbor’s trailer across the road as Emerick fumbled with the keys before letting them inside.
Nick had been there countless times over the past six years. It always had this unusual dank smell to the place because Devan’s old man would smoke weed. It was for his back, Emerick would say but that was bull crap, he just enjoyed getting high.
Inside it wasn’t fancy. A worn brown leather couch set back against the far wall, a thin coffee table, one IKEA chair that they’d picked up at a yard sale and a round table in the kitchen. The counters were dated, the linoleum flooring warped, and the paint was peeling but it was home and better than being on the streets. Emerick tossed his keys into a brass holder to his right as he entered and made a beeline for the fridge. He peered inside, flooding the room with light before Angela turned on the main switch. Emerick took out a beer and cracked it open, chugging it back fast before crushing the can and tossing it into the trash.
Angela slumped down on the couch and put her head in her hands. Callie stood there looking out of place. Nick followed Emerick down the hall into the bedroom where he rooted through his closet and pulled out a duffel bag. His bedroom was a mess. It was just a mattress on the floor with a duvet cover thrown on top, and two pillows. Covering the single window was an American flag, and at the far end of his bed was a sofa. Beside his bed was a waste paper basket full of used tissues, and a half-open car magazine just visible beneath a pile of clothes. He began tossing in clothes haphazardly, and slipped by him only to return with toiletries. All the while he was muttering to himself as if trying to keep track of what he was there to do.
“I knew a day like this would come,” Emerick said.
“I’ve been telling you that for years,” Angela replied from in the living room
Emerick reached under his bed and pulled out a small black case, he unlocked it and inside was a Glock 19. He then got down real low and reached under and retrieved two boxes of ammo. He stuffed all of it inside his duffel bag, zipped it up and headed back into the kitchen. Emerick dropped the bag and continued on through to another area. Nick heard him jangle some keys and then a moment later he emerged holding a Winchester rifle.
“Holy crap, Emerick, we aren’t going to war,” Angela said.
“You heard what Nick said. If these soldiers are killing people, the line in the sand has been crossed.”
“Look, maybe we should stay here the night,” Callie said. “Things might be better in the morning.”
“Better? Better!” he bellowed.
“Emerick,” Nick said noticing that he was scaring Callie.
“It’s not going to be better only worse. If we don’t move now and use the night as cover, we don’t stand a chance tomorrow.”
“And what’s your plan, huh?” Callie asked.
“We’re heading to Alpine,” Nick said. “To speak to my father.” Angela nodded in agreement thinking of her mother in the retirement home.
“I didn’t say we were going there,” Emerick said as he brushed past him and scooped up the bag and began filling it with bottles of water and several cans of food.
“But—” Nick said before Emerick cut him off.
“My main concern is Devan. Once I have him back, we’re getting out of here.”
Nick crossed the room and pointed towards where he imagined the school would be in relation to the trailer. “Devan is locked up, under the watchful eyes of soldiers. What are you going to do, go Rambo on them?”
“I’ll figure it out when I get there.”
“Don’t be stupid, Emerick,” Angela said rising to her feet. Nick was glad to have her there as a voice of reason as right then he wasn’t thinking clearly. He was being driven by the pain of losing his kid. “You go charging in there, you’re only going to get yourself in trouble. Hell, they might even shoot you. You want that?”
Emerick looked down at the ground as if he was contemplating. He opened his mouth to say something when they heard a commotion outside. It sounded like someone screaming. Emerick shot over to the window and pulled back the drapes to see. Again, another scream.
“What the hell?” Emerick muttered.
“What’s going on?” Angela said.
“Stay here,” he said grabbing up his rifle and heading for the door. Nick wasn’t far behind. Emerick glanced at him but for whatever reason chose not to stop him. They headed out into the night. Emerick told Nick to stay behind him. “If I tell you go to run back, you do it and lock those doors. You understand?”
He nodded. As they came around the corner of his trailer, in the middle of the road was a man without a shirt, or socks, straddling what appeared to be an unconscious man.
“Gary?” Emerick said. No response. “Gary?”
The man’s head turned and light from a floodlight revealed the true horror. Gripped in his hand was a 10-inch carving knife, and all down the front of Gary’s chest was blood. His victim, an elderly man in his seventies, had a massive gash on his throat and multiple stab wounds to his chest. Gary got up and without saying a word started heading towards them.
“Now Gary. Stay back,” Emerick said, beginning to raise his rifle.
Gary ignored the request and charged forward, his eyes wild and the knife raised in the air. Emerick didn’t hesitate. A crack echoed, followed by another and Gary hit the ground. They stood there in silence and shock.
Nick was the first one to get close but he didn’t go too close.
“Holy shit,” he muttered. “That really happened.”
It was like something out of a movie. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “We need to call the ambulance.”
“No ambulance is coming,” Emerick said. “Only the military.”
Several neighbors came out and stared, some placed hands over their mouths. Emerick walked over to a trailer across the road. “Emily?” he called out but there was no answer. He approached the door and used the end of the gun barrel to pull the screen door open. Nick could see him out the corner of his eye.
“Emily?”
He turned his head and saw Emerick push the door open, then he stumbled back. “Dear God.”
“What is it?” Nick asked.
“We need to go.”
“What?”
“Now.”
Emerick came down a few wooden steps and made his way back.
Nick was frozen in place unable to believe what he’d just witnessed. He’d seen people killed on TV but this was the real deal.
“Nick. We need to go. Now!”
He backed up slowly then broke into a jog hurrying back to the trailer.
Back in Alpine, Brody had been trying to get an update on the situation at the hospital. Even though he and Jenna weren’t on good terms, he cared for her dearly and this whole event had driven that home even more so.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m sorry, sir, no one goes in or out. Strict orders.”
Brody pointed to the main doors. “But I’m a cop. My wife is in there.”
“I’m sorry, sir. No exceptions.”
Gottman raised a hand to the soldier. “It’s all good. We’ll wait until the quarantine’s lifted. C’mon, chief.” He guided him away and they returned to Brody’s truck. As soon as they were inside, Gottman said, “I know you want to see her but we got to face reality here. If there is some kind of pandemic, do you really want to g
o in there and expose yourself to that?”
Brody gripped the steering wheel tight and glanced at the hospital.
“I mean, I thought things between you and her were over?”
“I never said that.”
Gottman groaned and ran a hand over his face while looking out the window. “Look, you would need some kind of respirator and goggles if you went in there. I think I know how to get some.”
Brody shot him a sideways glance and Gottman’s lip curled up at the corner. Gottman had always been a wild card. How he had ever made it through police academy was anyone’s guess. It came as no surprise to Brody when he told him what he had in mind.
“Are you kidding?”
“How bad do you want to get in there?” Gottman asked.
“You know they could throw our asses in jail for that.”
“I’d like to see them try.”
Brody frowned. “Why do you want to stick your neck out for me? I know you wanted this position.”
“I did. You’re right. I was pissed you got selected over me but that was then. I’ve come to realize that you have to put up with a lot more shit than I do, and let’s face it, you don’t get paid much more than us.”
“Ah, you would be surprised at the Christmas bonus,” Brody replied.
“Asshole,” Gottman said before laughing. Brody backed out of the lot and onto Fort Davis Highway. Before heading south he looked towards the north where another checkpoint was stationed. A big rig had been moved across the road, and it appeared from looking into the distance that the entrance points to Alpine weren’t the only areas they were beginning to patrol. He saw several Humvees and an M117 Guardian roaming the perimeter of the town, shining a large spotlight across the homes. He drove south back into town and continued on Highway 118 following Gottman’s directions.
“Take a left onto 223.”
“But there isn’t much out here.”
“That’s right but for where we’re going it will get us there.”