by Hunt, Jack
He might have taken the dog had his mind not felt so foggy, but he was having trouble standing, hearing, seeing, even breathing. “S…er…gio!” Lars said, his voice stretched out. Sergio shook his head again and staggered over to the dirt bike He grasped the handlebars and tried to get on but lost his balance and tipped the whole bike over. Crashing on top he heard Lars come up behind him as he slipped in and out of consciousness.
“Sergio.”
His name was the last thing he heard.
When he came to, he woke up to a rough tongue licking his face.
He swatted at the blurry face above him before the world snapped into view. It was the dog. He was lying on a carpet and staring up at a fan. A light flickered off to the right of him. Sergio turned his head and his gaze became transfixed on a candle before he saw Lars hobble into the room. “Where are we?” he asked.
“Finally, you’re awake.”
“How long have I been out?”
“An hour. I thought you were a goner. You gave me a scare back there. I went back inside and took a look at that syringe. It’s some kind of anesthetic. Probably wasn’t enough to knock you out completely but she gave you one hell of a dose. Enough to put a dog down for twenty-four hours, that’s for sure. I’m thinking your dog over here got lucky.”
“It isn’t my dog.” He sat up and rubbed his forearm across his face to wipe away drool that had trickled out of his mouth.
“Well he sure has taken a liking to you.”
He looked around. “How did we get here?”
“Ah, well we have Arthur to thank for that.”
“Who?”
“Me,” a raspy voice said before he began coughing.
Sergio turned to see an old-timer sitting in a recliner chair, with a beer in hand. He had white wispy hair that looked as if it hadn’t seen a pair of scissors in the last decade. He was wearing a plaid shirt, and a worn pair of jeans. His skin was a pasty white and judging from the large basket of tissues near his armchair, and the hacking cough, he was either a smoker or Lars had just accepted help from someone who was infected. Sergio backed up a little and both of them stared.
“Who have you been around?” Sergio asked as he patted down his own body looking for his handgun.
Lars noticed and handed it over. “I have it.”
As soon as he got a grip on it, he pointed it at the old man. “I asked, who have you been around!”
Lars frowned and got between them. “Steady, Sergio. Are you out of your goddamn mind? Arthur here helped us.”
“He’s sick.”
“You got that right,” he said coughing again.
Sergio’s nostrils flared and he aimed the gun and Lars put his hands up. “Hold on a minute. He’s on a respirator for smoking. COPD. Back off. He’s not like the others.”
“No? And you just bought his word on that?”
“Sergio, put the gun down.”
Arthur reached for a pack of smokes. “If you’re going to squeeze the trigger, son, squeeze it, otherwise I’ll have a smoke. Doctor says I shouldn’t but I don’t have long so I don’t think it matters now.” He started coughing hard again before tapping one out and lighting it. Slowly, Sergio lowered the gun but kept his gaze on him.
“Okay. Okay. That’s good. Here, have a beer,” Lars turned and reached for a can and tossed him one. “The dog. The one you called Baxter. He’s actually called Sonny. It’s his.”
“When the lights went out, and all that rioting on the streets started, I figured I would go get my dog. He was meant to go in and get a chip put in and it should have been a quick operation, like two minutes but the vets screwed up the scheduling and had some other operation booked for that day. So I left him there with plans on picking him up that evening.” He took a hard pull on his cigarette. “Like I said, when all this shit happened…” He started coughing and reached for some tissues, then spat into one and rolled it and tossed it in the can beside him. It toppled over the edge onto the carpet which was caked in them. “I couldn’t get out. So I had to wait until the middle of the night, and that’s when I came across you two asshats.”
“Asshats?”
The old timer chuckled.
“Well seriously? You take your friend to a vet for a bullet wound?”
“There was nowhere else to take him. The hospital’s quarantined.”
He shrugged and took another hard pull on his cigarette. “Anyway, you can stay here the night if you like. Looks like your pal could use some rest and well, you don’t look well yourself.”
“Don’t push me, old man.”
He chuckled. “What, you going to kill me? You’d be doing me a favor, son. Which reminds me. I’ve been looking for someone to take Sonny here. He seems to have taken a liking to you. You want to take him?”
“He’s your dog, grandpa.”
The old man snorted. “I can’t get out like I used to.”
“Do I look like a fucking dog sitter?” Sergio said.
“Sergio,” Lars chimed in shaking his head.
Sergio glanced at the dog then back at Arthur. “You look as if you could live a few more years. I’m sure the dog would prefer to stay with you.”
“Look outside, son, this ain’t no place for an old man and a dog.”
Sergio got up and stumbled into the wall. “Whoa!” Lars came to his aid and he swatted him off. “I’m fine.” He glanced out the window and that’s when he saw what Arthur was talking about. His apartment was located downtown overlooking the main drag. The town was ablaze. Stores, homes, vehicles. There were people attacking one another, hurting themselves and fleeing. “Holy shit.”
Chapter 24
Sorenson got off the phone with clear instructions. He didn’t need to be reminded, he understood the gravity of the situation and the many lives across the nation that were at risk. He let out a large sigh and looked at the group in the kitchen talking — Jenna was upstairs. He wasn’t a violent man by nature but he was prepared to do whatever it took for the survival of his country. If that meant holding them captive, so be it. For that’s what it all boiled down to. The only thing was he didn’t know his location. Without the location he couldn’t call Lynch back to arrange extraction of the immunes.
Of course he couldn’t just come out with it. He could already sense their apprehension with him after all they’d been put through at the hospital. They’d treated them like lab rats, overriding their civil rights and ignoring their protests.
He wandered down the hall towards the front door to check the side table for mail. There had to be something with an address on it — a letter, flyer or newspaper.
“Everything okay, Sorenson?” Liam asked, stepping out into the hallway as Sorenson pulled out a drawer from a small table. He turned and with a nervous tone to his voice tried to act normal.
“Yeah. Fine.”
“Who was that you were speaking with?”
“Just my wife. Back in Chicago. Wanted to make sure she was okay.”
“Huh,” Liam said nodding slowly. “Strange that you managed to get a signal,” he said taking out his phone and holding it up. “As none of us can get anything.”
“Satellite. A satellite phone. Yeah, issued by the CDC. Kind of handy really. Quite often they send us to remote areas that don’t have good coverage and we need to stay in contact with them and loved ones.”
Liam slowly walked towards him, tucking his own phone back into his pocket. He’d been given a handgun by Officer Gottman and told to watch over the group while the officers were away. If anyone attempted to break in, he was to take care of business. Whether or not he could do it was to be seen. The way he’d acted at the hospital hadn’t exactly instilled confidence in Sorenson. It was because of that he had contemplated whether or not he could take him if push came to shove.
“Any movement outside?” Liam asked.
So far they’d been lucky. The street outside was quiet, except for the odd pop of gunfire in the distance. From what he’d been able
to gauge, they were in a small suburban neighborhood, a cul-de-sac, but it was too dark to make out the street sign. Sorenson shook his head.
“What are you searching for?”
“Just curious as to where we are.”
“Alpine.”
“Right. I know that. I’m talking about the street.”
“Why? They said they would return.” Liam got closer. Sorenson closed the drawer and turned to face him. Liam was still wearing his white lab coat. He was around six foot one, and skinny.
Feeling pushed into a corner, Sorenson came up with an excuse. “Just in case we die here, I want my wife to know where my body is.”
Liam’s eyebrow went up. “Yeah, well you don’t have to worry about that. As long as we stay put, stay quiet and wait, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
Sorenson nodded. “Any alcohol?”
Liam looked at him skeptically. “I came across a bottle of bourbon in the living area,” he said jerking his chin over his shoulder but maintaining narrow eye contact. Sorenson could tell he didn’t trust him. None of them did. Gottman had told Liam to keep a close eye on him while they were gone. He expected that was what made this even more difficult. The last thing he wanted to do was find himself wrestling for that weapon. He’d always used communication as a tool for deescalating situations and in his mind this was no different.
“Let’s get a drink, shall we?” Sorenson suggested. Liam nodded and they headed into the living area. It was a typical bachelor pad with black leather couches, a throw rug, a coffee table at the center, and a small makeshift bar in the corner of the room. Sorenson glanced at the 50-inch TV on the wall while Liam went around to the bar and set the gun on the counter. He pulled out two glasses and poured two fingers of amber. Leaving the gun in place he made his way around and handed him one before returning and collecting the gun. Sorenson berated himself inwardly. He should have gone for it while it was on the counter. No, stick to the plan. Get him relaxed and eventually someone would tell him where they were. He took a hard swig on his drink almost downing it in one gulp. It burned as it slipped down his throat.
“Ah, now that’s what I needed. Just a little something to take the edge off.”
Liam pursed his lips and nodded scanning the room. “So you think there is hope for us?”
“Of course. I mean, it’s a bad situation but we’ve seen worse.”
“You have?”
“Not in this country but elsewhere.”
“I guess the government kept that hushed, right?” Liam downed his drink and returned to fill his glass. He set the gun down for a second time, this time turning his back.
“They do what needs to be done to protect the many.”
“Yeah, and is killing innocents included in that?”
Sorenson saw his opportunity. He knew this wasn’t going to get any easier. Liam would be watching him like a hawk. Now if he could get his hands on that Glock he might be able to speed up this process. Time was working against them. Three hours and the military would be wiping this town off the map. He intended to be far, far away by then. Sorenson grabbed a fire poker and held it behind him and approached. Liam twisted and Sorenson reacted fast to deflect attention. He extended his glass. “Mind filling that again?”
“Sure.”
He turned and Sorenson took advantage of the moment. He lashed out, scything the air with the metal poker and striking Liam across the back of the head. He let out a groan and fell forward. Sorenson expected him to drop but he didn’t. Liam’s hand darted to the gun and latched on to it. No, no, Sorenson thought as he lunged forward and slammed into him pressing him up against the bar so he couldn’t turn. He grasped his wrist and they wrestled for control. At some point Liam pushed himself back and they toppled over the couch and crashed into the table. The sound of boots could be heard approaching as they continued to fight. Before anyone could intervene, the gun went off. A loud crack, and then all resistance dissipated. Sorenson pulled back and stared at Liam’s shirt as blood soaked it. A gasp was heard. He looked up to see the group staring at him. His hand was still on the gun, though shaking now. Liam gasped for air, and then clutched the wound, words trying to escape his mouth. Nothing formed except a few final breaths.
“What have you done?” Gina the pharmacist asked. “What have you done!” she screamed. Sorenson reacted fast by raising the gun and telling them to stay back. The sound of feet coming down the stairs could be heard, and then Jenna emerged pushing her way through the group to see what all the commotion was. She glanced down then at Sorenson.
“I didn’t want it to go like this but he gave me no other option.”
He reached into his pocket for his phone and tapped in a number. “Now you’re going to tell me the number and street we are on, or…” he trailed off as the phone connected with Colonel Lynch.
Five minutes earlier one of three Chinooks had landed carrying Mosley’s crew of soldiers, a small elite team of special operatives trained to deal with the worst. Using a beacon from the helicopter Major Brown was on, they were able to pinpoint the exact location of his last known whereabouts.
Colonel Lynch stood looking at the charred wreckage of the helicopter, and the bodies of the fallen. Among them was Major Brown. He’d been stripped of his military fatigues and had multiple stab wounds. The men around him were shot, hacked to death or strangled. It was a brutal sight and one that would stay with her forever. No one deserved to go out that way. Lynch thought of Brown’s family. His young daughters that would never have their father walk them down the aisle or get to hold him again.
The phone in her pocket rang. She let it go to voice, distracted by her thoughts. Mosley and the team of six spread out ensuring her safety. The phone jangled again and this time she answered it. The caller ID was Sorenson.
“Go ahead.”
“43 Turner Avenue.”
“Roger that,” the colonel said still lost in her thoughts. “We’ll be there shortly. Make sure you’re ready to go.”
Sorenson cleared his throat. “Colonel, we are short one. He attacked. I had no other choice.”
Lynch nodded. “Doesn’t matter, all we need is one of them.”
She hung up and updated Mosley. “We leave in five. Gather up the bodies in the other Chinooks. Fly them back to the FEMA camp. Their families will want to know what happened. They died as heroes.”
Mosley showed no emotion. He was used to seeing such horrors. Lynch wasn’t. Sure, she had seen her share of war but not like this. This was vindictive. She turned her head at the sound of gunfire nearby. They needed to move fast. This wasn’t the only soldier that needed assistance. One by one they loaded the dead into a Chinook and it took off leaving the other two. The steady thump of rotors sent waves of wind her way as she stayed low and made her way back to the helicopter. They boarded and took off, this time heading for Turner Avenue.
Sorenson had gathered them all in the kitchen and was keeping the handgun on them. Jenna leaned against the counter unable to believe it had come to this.
“You don’t owe them anything. Why are you doing this?” she asked.
“This isn’t about owing anyone. It’s about the survival of our nation. When I chose to work for the CDC I signed up to protect, just as you signed up to help those in need. This is me helping. You’ve seen it yourselves. We are losing control of this situation. Give it another two or three days and this will extend beyond Texas. Dallas and Houston are already overwhelmed. Military are in the cities now trying to handle this through preventative measures.”
“You mean killing people?” Gina said. She stood with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. Beside her were Pete Douglas the security guard and Jenna.
“If this spreads any further it won’t matter if we have a cure or not. Attempting to get it to those in need will be near impossible. You must understand the gravity of this situation. You are the last hope we have. I cannot allow anything to jeopardize that. Liam would have tried to stop me.”
&n
bsp; “I have kids,” Gina said. “I need to see them.”
“And you will but we need to take samples from you all and use that to create a vaccine for this threat before it gets out of control.”
The sound of gunshots echoed loudly, nearer than before. Jenna thought about Brody and Nick and wished she had gone with her husband.
“Where will they take us?” Jenna asked.
“Chicago. We have the tools, the equipment, labs and team to develop what’s needed.”
“How can you live with what you’ve done?” Pete asked.
“You’ll thank me one day. Look, I get it. This is bad news. I know you don’t understand what we are trying to do here and I don’t expect you to, but if this works then you will one day look back at this and realize that what was done was for the benefit of the world, not just our nation but the world at large.”
“You already took samples of our blood.”
“Yes, back at the hospital, before the breach. We can’t risk going back in there.”
“Just extract what you need here and leave us,” Jenna said.
“While it’s very possible what is needed may be in the blood, it could reside in another area, so we may have to take multiple samples of bone marrow, tissue and blood. We won’t know until we can see how your bodies are managing to resist this—” he trailed off and Gina cut him off.
“This self-made plague.”
He glanced at her and then back at Jenna before taking a few steps back and peering out the window.
“If they’re arriving by chopper, I’d think you’d hear them,” Pete said.
Out the corner of her eye, Jenna saw Gina reach back behind her and take hold of a large bread knife and extract it from its wooden housing. She wanted to cry out and stop her but she realized that if they didn’t do something, all the effort Brody and Gottman had taken to break her out of the hospital would be for nothing. And of course there was the fact that what the CDC had planned for them might not end in a small amount of tissue being taken but a large amount from the brain — as that was the area that was damaged in the infected. If she was going to die, it wasn’t going to be in a lab. She was more than willing to hand over her blood and a small tissue sample but refused to be held captive and treated like nothing more than a rat.