“What’s going on? Do any of you know what this is about?” I heard myself saying.
Harley began chewing on her nails and briskly shook her head. I looked at Jordan, and he nodded at Matt.
“Matt? Do you know anything about this?”
He beckoned me closer, and I stepped in to listen. “I think it has something to do with the army depot. I don’t know for sure what’s going on, but I know they keep secret biological and chemical weapons there.”
“What?” I squawked louder than I’d intended to, and several people turned to look at me. Matt held up his hands, fingers crooked in a shushing motion. “Keep it down. We don’t want to cause a panic,” he said. “I don’t know for sure if that’s what’s going on, but it looks like they’ve activated the ESIP system.”
I thought about what he’d said. ESIP… “Yes, Matt. That’s what I heard Mr. Woods doing in the front of the building. They were chaining the doors. “What’s an ESIP system?”
Matt looked about before speaking, and when he did, it was barely a whisper. “It stands for Enhanced Shelter-in-Place system. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this building has one. It’s like an internal air filtration system that requires you to seal the building so chemicals or biological agents can’t get inside. The filtration system cleans the air inside to ensure –or attempt to ensure—that the inside air is sterilized and free of toxins.”
My skin tightened with tension at the way Matt hedged on how effective this ESIP system may or may not be. “So, are you saying they don’t know for sure this will work?”
Matt shook his head. “Well, of course, the military develops these systems and tests the models during manufacture. Technically, though, none of the systems in public locations have been tested with an actual chemical release. That’s just not feasible. It would have required a planned, intentional use of chemical weapons,” he said.
“So, the system could fail?”
“Well, it hasn’t failed yet. I mean we’re all still alive.”
If Matt was trying to help me feel better, it wasn’t working. “Are you saying that it might still fail?”
“It is an electro-mechanical system, so sure. Any number of things could go wrong. The equipment itself could fail due to manufacturing flaws. A power failure could cause the system to shut down completely. If the components haven’t been adequately maintained, they may not function at optimal levels or could stop working. But chances are, the chemical cloud will dissipate quickly, and we’ll be okay. These substances don’t typically have a long active period.”
I felt nauseous. “Gee, thanks for giving me a full accounting of all possible ways this could go wrong.”
The sarcasm was apparently lost on Matt as he continued, “I didn’t cover every scenario. Just the ESIP-related ones.”
“Great, there are more ways we could die?”
“Oh yeah,” Matt said with a mirthless smile. He swept his arm across the room. “By my estimate, about two hundred different ways. Any of these people could lose it and try to get out of the building by breaking a window. The system is really just a sophisticated vacuum, and it would pull the chemicals into the building. It would take just seconds to fill.”
“Matt?” I asked.
“Yes?” He was all serious and focused on his analysis.
“That’s all I need to know. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” It seemed to escape his awareness that what he said would be disturbing to hear.
The room was nearly full, and people were beginning to shift about the room. Some stood around talking in small groups while others sat at the benches along the sides of the tables. The room felt tense. People were talking in hushed, almost conspiratorial sounding whispers. There seemed to be something about crisis situations and tragedy that had such an effect on people. They appeared afraid to speak their fears aloud, almost as if doing so might make things worse.
Ms. Sutton was standing on a riser at the opposite end of the cafeteria. She held a long clipboard and braced it against her hip. Mr. Haus, the custodian, was carrying a portable sound system in her direction. He placed the heavy-looking speaker on the floor in front of her and handed her a wireless microphone. I watched as Mr. Haus plug the amplifier’s cord into a wall plug. He flipped some switches on the unit and said something to Ms. Sutton, who turned her microphone around as she looked at the base. A loud pop and hum sounded as she pushed a switch on its side. Mr. Haus motioned her to move away from the speaker, and the hum subsided.
“May I have your attention, please?” She waited while conversations faded off, and the room fell silent. “Thank you. I have a number of announcements that will take several minutes, so would those of you who are standing please be seated?” The room filled with sounds of scooting tables and movement. When everyone was settled, Ms. Sutton continued. “First, I would like to thank all of you for your cooperation and ask that you continue to work with us to ensure your safety. As you may have heard, several explosions occurred at the Tri-State Army Depot a short time ago, and some chemical substances have been released. At this time, we do know a plume cloud is moving through the city, but we do not know exactly what chemicals it contains.”
A woman near the center of the room stood up. “What do you mean?” Her voice quivered. “Are these military chemicals—like weapons?”
“Whatever it is, it kills people.” someone yelled.
“Please, you must remain calm. I have more information to share, and I need for you to listen quietly. I understand many of you feel frightened and uncertain, but again, you are safe inside this building.” She withdrew what appeared to be a pamphlet from her clipboard and opened it. She cleared her throat and began to read. “The United States military is working closely with BioGenetics, to ensure your safety at this time. Although no biological elements are stored at the depot, and chemicals released will not cause infections, they can affect persons with suppressed immune systems, such as people with chronic illnesses, autoimmune deficiencies, young children, pregnant women, and the elderly.”
The principal began to cough, and nervous murmurs swept through the crowd. “One moment, please,” the principal said, her voice rough and choking. Someone handed her a bottle of water, and she took several drinks before continuing.
“Excuse me. As I was saying, individuals who are already vulnerable may become ill, or experience worsening illnesses. For this reason, you are urged to take extra precautions to avoid contact with blood saliva or other bodily fluids of anyone. Practice hand washing and precautions to prevent the spread of illnesses.”
“Yeah, but what about our families that are out there?” a man near the front said, his voice harsh and challenging.
A nearby girl who appeared to be about eleven years old began to wail and clung to the man standing beside her. He lowered his arm and held her close.
“Again, I must ask you to please listen quietly,” Ms. Sutton insisted. “When we’re finished with announcements, I will stay behind to meet with you privately to answer your questions. Remember there are children present, and we do not want to unnecessarily frighten them.”
Principal Sutton fumbled with her clipboard and flipped a page over the top. “While we are here, sheltering-in-place, authorities are working in the city to perform tests to determine what chemicals were released. The National Guard is working with the Tri-State Army Depot to ensure your safety. Specially trained first-responders are working with local hospitals to ensure that anyone exposed to chemicals receives necessary care. When the cloud has dissipated, and no detectable levels of chemicals remain in the air, we will be given permission to open the building, and you will be free to leave.”
“How long will this take?” someone asked.
Ms. Sutton paused. “We do not have an estimate at this time. We do know it will be a minimum -that is a minimum- of twenty-four hours.”
Concerned and angry voices erupted from the group, and I could see stunned looks on many faces around me. The woman with t
he baby that I’d seen earlier was crying and shaking.
“Quiet, please.” Ms. Sutton spoke into the microphone. “Quiet. The sooner we’re finished, the sooner we will be able to help you with any special needs you may have.” She paused. When the room became still, she continued. “We have adequate emergency food supplies to ensure three meals daily for everyone here, and we will provide cots and mats. Our school nurse is on-duty and can assist with many minor medical issues. Our building has WIFI, and showers, as well as restrooms, which are located near the gymnasium. We understand that no one wants to be here, and we will make every effort to meet your needs. That said, we do expect everyone here to abide by our rules. Here to discuss those with you, is officer Brad Rivers.”
The same uniformed officer who dragged me into the building joined Ms. Sutton on the risers. “Thank you, everyone.” I would like to direct your attention to the six other members of the Ft. Wayne PD who are currently here in the facility and will be responsible for maintaining security. In addition, a school-based resource officer, Mr. Woods, is on duty. Officers, please raise your hands.” The uniformed men and women raised their hands. “I urge each of you to communicate with any of these officers should the need arise. During this emergency, the school building is on lock-down. That means, no one can leave, and no one can be admitted to the building. The doors have been padlocked, and most windows do not open. Those that do have been secured.”
He paused and swept the room with an intense gaze. “Under no circumstances are you to open doors or windows, even in the event of an emergency inside the building. To be clear, doing so would risk the lives of everyone here. The police officers will maintain order at all times, and there will be no tolerance for illegal behavior or disobedience of official directions.”
A woman I recognized as a clerk from the administrative office entered the room and moved through the crowd toward the front. She carried a stack of papers and approached Officer Rivers. The two exchanged words, and she moved through the crowd, handing stacks of papers to each of the officers.
“The officers will be handing out copies of rules you are expected to follow during lock-down. I will not read through this entire list, but I will draw your attention to the first five items on the list. Number one: No smoking is allowed in this building at any time. This is to prevent accidental fire and to maintain air quality for the closed ESIP system. If you are a smoker and need cessation assistance, please see the nurse. A station will be set up in the gymnasium, and Mrs. Hoffstedder will keep hours around the clock.” Number two: Anyone carrying weapons of any kind must relinquish those to the FWPD, who will secure them on site. This includes guns, knives, tasers, and any type of chemical spray. These items will be returned to you when the all clear order has been issued, as you leave the premises.”
A murmur swept across the crowd, and I noticed several individuals appeared uncomfortable. “Number three: No drugs or alcohol are allowed in the facility. If you have drugs or alcohol in your possession, you must surrender those to the FWPD. Alcohol will be returned to you upon release. Any street drugs will be disposed of. Understand—if you are found to have street drugs in your possession during this lockdown period, you will face criminal charges for not surrendering those drugs.”
I wondered if Trey Bronson was still in the building, and I scanned the crowd. Bodies were packed into the area, and I couldn’t tell for certain.
Officer Rivers continued. “Number four: You are strongly urged to surrender any cash or other valuables to the officers to secure for you until release. Neither the public school nor FWPD is responsible for loss or theft of any valuables you choose to keep on your person. Number five: You are to obey all laws of the State of Indiana, and any violation of those laws while in this shelter will be prosecuted. All officers on duty have the authority to detain you should you commit any crime.”
“I suppose this should make me feel safer, but it doesn’t,” Harley whispered, leaning close to my ear.
“Me neither,” I admitted. I glanced at Jordan and Matt. “I think we need to stick close together.”
“You think?” Jordan said, his voice had a slight hysterical lilt.
The officers were passing out copies of the rule sheets as they circulated through the crowd. I heard Ms. Sutton’s voice come over the speaker system.
“Thank you, Officer Rivers. Now, we will be releasing you in groups to go to the gymnasium where you will be assigned to areas that will be your temporary shelters. School staff is on hand to take your personal information. We will submit that electronically to Ft. Wayne emergency response so you can be reported as safe in this facility. You will also have the opportunity to meet with officers to surrender any restricted items. Nurse Hoffstedder is available in the gym to assist you. We have a large number of people to take care of, so please be patient. Also…very important. Emergency meals are being prepared as you go through this process, so once you’ve been checked in at the gym, we will begin calling groups for the evening meal.”
I noticed the officers had moved to the head and foot of each row of tables in the cafeteria. Ms. Sutton began releasing rows to go to the gym. Ours was the second group to be released.
When we reached the designated area, I was surprised to see how efficiently things appeared to be going. Custodians and office staff were directing the flow of people into and around several stations where they signed in. We were able to bypass tables that were set up for individuals surrendering restricted items. Coaches Jensen and Russell worked with some members of the basketball team to spread out exercise mats in small groups. Someone brought in a trolley cart with what looked like a stack of 50 or so low-profile cots.
By the time most of the crowd had been processed and assigned to various areas of the gym, some were being released to return to the cafeteria for food. As our group was okayed to leave the gym, I was relieved to feel a small measure of normalcy at the idea of getting dinner, but it was only a small comfort. I looked at my phone, and there was still no message from my mom. I thought about Derek. “Matt, does the junior high school have an ESIP system like Carver’s?”
“Which junior high?” he asked.
“Eaton. It’s the one about five blocks from here.” I explained.
“I’m not familiar with it,” Matt said. “When was it built?”
The question puzzled me. “I don’t know. Why?”
“Well, not all public buildings were suitable for retrofitting when the military began installing the systems. The older the building, the less likely it would have an ESIP system. Like if it had a steam heating system, it wouldn’t be likely to have one. Do you remember anything at all about the building that might be a clue about when it was built?”
I felt my throat tighten, and for a moment I couldn’t speak. “I don’t…I don’t know.” I’d only been there a few times, and Derek attended a different junior high than I had because of his placement in special education.
“Did you see any radiators?” Harley asked.
I closed my eyes and tried to picture the building interior to no avail. “I don’t think so, but I just don’t remember. I was so focused on Derek this morning that I didn’t pay attention.”
“Casey, I know you’re worried, but even if there isn’t an ESIP system at Eaton, that doesn’t mean Derek isn’t safe,” Jordan reasoned.
“Right,” Matt said. “It’s possible to shelter without a system like this. The school probably has a plan of some kind.”
“Besides,” Harley chimed in, your mom may have picked him up. They could be there together.”
I doubted that was the case. “She would have messaged me,” I said.
“Her phone might be dead,” Harley offered.
“Either way,” Jordan said, draping one of his long arms around my shoulder, “You have to stay positive about this. You can’t worry about things that might happen because we have to focus on what we can do.”
I nodded. He was right, of course. I knew this in my
brain. I just wished I could convince my heart.
We entered the serving line, and I noticed the steam tables that normally contained trays of food now held trays of drab-looking taupe colored packets of food. Dinner consisted of what Matt described as civilian versions of military MREs, or meals-ready-to-eat. Servers placed steaming hot packets appealingly labeled entrée or side dish onto our trays. Cracker and dessert packets followed. Bottles of water and packets of electrolyte fruit drink mix were also provided. It wasn’t what I’d expected, but the entrée of chicken and noodles in vegetable sauce was, perhaps, tastier than today’s fish square sandwich. The side dish was green beans, and the dessert tasted like pound cake.
After dinner, we returned to our area of the gym and took our places on exercise mats on the floor. I watched as people huddled about. Some were settling down to sleep. Others were busy on their phones, apparently trying to reach friends and family. As my gaze drifted across the area, I noticed the curtain moving on the stage located at the far end of the courts. Trey Bronson’s face emerged as he stepped out from behind the black velveteen panel. As he released the curtain and allowed it to fall back into place, a translucent ribbon of smoke blew out from behind it. He looked from side to side with a suspicious expression on his face and then walked down the steps at the side of the stage. I saw a smile crawl across his face as he disappeared into the crowd. I guessed at least one of us was feeling no pain.
A quiet tension remained in the air, and it looked like most people were worried. I recognized the homeless man who’d entered the building just before the lockdown. He was sitting on the bleachers, rocking slowly back and forth. His lips moved, and then he paused and cocked his head as if listening to someone who wasn’t there.
Some of the children in the group seemed unaware of the seriousness of the situation, and I was glad for that. Wherever Derek was, I supposed that’s how he would be feeling, blissfully unaware. I wondered if my mom was okay. She was a workaholic. That much was clear, but even she would check in from time to time—something she hadn’t done. A sick feeling settled in my stomach as I realized that by now she would have messaged me or called if she could have. I pulled out my phone and thought about aunt Janine. She would be back home in Chicago, and I wondered if she knew what was happening here. Did anyone know? I noticed my battery was at about 50%, and I decided to text Janine in the morning if I hadn’t heard from Mom by then.
Viral Series (Book 1): Viral Dawn [Extended Edition] Page 6