The hospital hallways were noisy and crowded. Ahead, we spotted Susan’s gurney down
the hall, and we hurried after it. The EMTs wheeled Susan into an open station in the emergency room. We went in after them.
A nurse appeared, blocking us. “Are you family?” she asked.
“Friends,” Kyle answered.
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait in the waiting area.”
Darrell came toward us and spoke to the nurse. “We wouldn’t have made it without them. It’s okay with me for them to be here,” he explained.
“That’s not possible,” the nurse said. “Because of the virus and possible contamination, we can only allow the patient inside the emergency room and other treatment areas.”
“You mean I can’t be with Susan? I’m her husband!” Darrell exclaimed.
“You’ll have to leave, or I’ll call security,” the nurse said sternly.
Darrell’s jawline pulsed, and his brows furrowed with an indignant scowl. He took a step toward the emergency room entrance, but Kyle pulled him away.
“Look, Darrell” Kyle spoke in a quiet, serious tone, “We don’t want them throwing us out of here. Let’s just go to the waiting room like she told us.”
Darrell nodded in a way that looked painful for him and turned to follow us into the waiting area. His shoulders slumped in defeat as we stepped into the packed room. All the seats were filled, and families were grouped together standing in groups and sitting on the floor. Everyone looked exhausted as they talked among themselves in hushed whispers and worried tones. Apprehension hung heavy in the air. We found an opening in the crowd and formed our own circle. For a long moment, we just stood there watching the others and saying nothing.
I was painfully aware of how much time was passing, and while I was concerned about Susan, I worried more about Harley and how we had to reach the safe zone. Even though Susan’s situation was serious, Harley was in danger too. My throat constricted with fear, and I felt the sudden need to get away. “I’m going to look for a drink of water,” I announced.
“Bring me a drink if you can,” Jordan called after me. “I’ll stay here with Darrell.”
“I’ll go with you,” Kyle said, following me out the door.
In the hallway, I turned to Kyle. “What are we going to do? We’ve got to get back on the road.”
“Yeah, I know,” he answered. “I hate to just leave them here though.”
I tossed my hands up in exasperation. “I get that, and I feel the same way, but if we don’t get to the safe zone soon, it will be too late for Harley and the others. I’m worried they won’t survive.” I looked up and down the hall. There was no sign of water or a vending machine. I stopped a hospital worker and asked where I might find some water. He directed us to the cafeteria where he told us emergency rations were being distributed.
“Just follow the blue line on the floor,” he directed.
Kyle and I found that the cafeteria was much like the rest of the hospital. Crowded. I saw several giant bins with wheels positioned along the wall. They were stacked high with piles of bottled water. I handed one to Kyle and picked up one for the rest of us. We headed back toward the waiting area.
“Let’s just stay long enough to see what’s going on with Susan,” Kyle suggested. “Then we can leave.”
Back in the waiting area, I handed water to Darrell and Jordan. We stood waiting and watching as hospital staff came and called groups of people out of the room by last name. After about an hour, a doctor carrying a clipboard appeared in the doorway and called out, “Gordon? Family of Susan Gordon?”
Darrell bolted toward the doctor. “I’m Darrell Gordon, Susan’s husband.”
“I’m Dr. Adams,” she said. “First, your wife’s condition is serious, but her condition is treatable. Your daughter is healthy and is being taken to the nursery. Susan has suffered from a ruptured uterus, and you were very lucky that the baby was born without injury,” the doctor explained.
“Mrs. Gordon is going to need surgery to repair the rupture. Depending on how bad the damage is, we may have to perform a hysterectomy. Unfortunately, we won’t know the extent of the damage until we are in surgery, and I will have nurses keep you informed during the procedure.” The doctor flipped a page on her clipboard. “I’ll need your signature giving us permission to treat your wife and to do whatever is necessary to save her life. We must start right away.”
Darrell looked like he was going to be sick. “Are you telling me she’ll die without the surgery?”
“Mr. Gordon, the surgery is medically necessary to stop the hemorrhage. There is no other option.”
Darrell’s lip trembled as he took the clipboard and signed the permission sheet.
“This is the right decision for your wife,” the doctor said. “While you’re waiting, you’re welcome to visit your daughter.” The doctor withdrew a paging device from her pocket and handed it to Darrell. “Keep this with you, and we will page you if we need you or if there are updates on Susan’s condition.”
Darrell took the pager and thanked Dr. Adams. She shook his hand with a firm, confident grasp.
As Darrell and Dr. Adams concluded their conversation, I pulled Kyle and Jordan aside. “We’re going to have to leave before they do surgery!” I insisted. “We can’t lose any more time.”
“But what if they need us?” Jordan asked, nodding toward the emergency room doors.
“I don’t know,” Kyle said.
I hated having to say it, but it had to be said. “Look, they’re safe here. This is the best place for them, and there’s nothing more we can do. The longer we stay here, the longer we’re leaving Harley, Mrs. Hofstetter, and everyone else in danger.”
“Susan is going to need to stay here for recovery anyway,” Kyle said. “They could be here for days.”
“It’s settled then,” Jordan said. “How are we going to break it to Darrell?”
“Tell me what?” Darrell said, coming back into the waiting room. He still looked shaken. “We’re going to have to leave,” Kyle said calmly. “We’ve got to get to the safe zone.”
“Our friends back home are running out of food and out of time,” I said. “They won’t survive if we can’t get help back to them.”
As I watched Darrell’s face, already slack with worry, a look of helpless resignation flickered in his eyes.
Darrell rubbed his face. “I understand,” he said. “I don’t expect you to stay when other lives are at stake. You’ve done enough. We’re safer here than at the truck stop. Susan will have all the care she needs, and the baby is safe. I can’t ask for more than that.”
I reached up and gave Darrell a hug. “Tell Susan we’ll send help,” I said.
Darrell nodded and shook hands with Kyle and Jordan. “Thank you for everything,” he said. “I guess I’ve got a little girl to go see.” His expression brightened, and he turned and headed toward the elevators.
“They’ll be fine,” Kyle said, placing a hand on my shoulder.
We walked back to the emergency room doors. The armed guards were still there covering patients who were being admitted and released.
“Where’s your car?” one of them asked.
Kyle pointed to the Volvo a few parking spaces away.
“Come on quickly,” the guard said. They formed a group around us and escorted us to the car. We climbed in quickly, and Kyle started it up. We pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.
“We’ve got to backtrack to reach the interstate,” Kyle said, steering the car back the way we came. “At least it’s not far,” Jordan said. It was still dark outside, and the roads were mostly deserted except for the traffic around the hospital. I was bone tired, and I knew Kyle and Jordan had to be tired too.
“Are you okay with driving?” I asked Kyle. “You’re not too tired?”
He gave a humorless chuckle. “Who isn’t worn out? I’ve got this for a while,” he answered.
I got what Kyle
meant. Our sleep schedules had been off ever since the outbreak of the virus. It made it difficult to function normally. Most of the time, no one got more than a few hours of sleep a day.
“I’m going to catch some Zs,” Jordan said as he stretched himself out in the back seat.
“Why don’t you get some sleep too, Casey?” Kyle asked. “We can drive in shifts if necessary.”
“Okay,” I agreed. I adjusted my seat into a semi-reclining position. I curled up on the
seat and drifted into sleep.
I awoke feeling uncomfortably hot. The morning sun streamed into the car windows, which intensified the heat. We were still driving west on the interstate, but Kyle was slowing down. “Is something wrong?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Kyle said. He gestured with a finger as he clutched the steering wheel. “There’s a block up ahead.”
I looked out the windshield. For as far as I could see, a sea of cars was stopped in the roadway. Kyle pulled the Volvo to a halt, its nose flush with the bumper of a truck in front of us. I reached around into the seat behind me and shook Jordan’s shoulder. “Wake up.”
Jordan groaned and then sat upright. “What I wouldn’t give for eight uninterrupted hours of sleep,” he whined.
“Something’s wrong,” Kyle tossed over his shoulder toward Jordan. We all shifted in our seats, attempting to look around the cars to get a better view of what might be going on down the road ahead of us.
Jordan looked all around the outside of the vehicle before shifting the automatic window lever and lowering the glass in the door beside him. He raised up and stuck his head and shoulders out, craning his neck to see. After a few moments, he slid back into his seat. “I don’t see anything but cars, man. What do we do now?”
“Do you have any idea how much farther we have to go to reach the safe zone?” I asked.
“It can’t be more than a few miles up the road,” Kyle answered. “My guess is that’s why all these cars are stopped here. We’ll walk it.”
Jordan and I exchanged wary glances. “But what will we do if this leads to nowhere? We don’t know why the cars are here.” I said.
“Look, we don’t have much choice. We can’t stay here, and if we go back, it will just be a matter of time before we run out of food or we become food,” Kyle reasoned.
Jordan nodded. “Frankly, none of the choices sound good to me, but yeah, I say we go on.”
We gathered the duffle bags from the back seat, Kyle slung his gun over his shoulder, and we started walking down the interstate. On both sides of us were abandoned cars. The doors on some gaped open as if their occupants were running for their lives and were unconcerned about their vehicles. “What do you think happened here?” I asked.
“Maybe there was a traffic jam, and people had to walk because the cars backed up,” Jordan suggested.
“Maybe so. This has to be the way to the safe zone. There’s no other logical explanation,” Kyle suggested.
As we walked, I noticed an occasional single shoe or article of clothing abandoned on the pavement. A child’s doll was trampled on the asphalt. “From the looks of things, they were in a hurry,” I shuddered. I tried not to think about the hordes of people trampling over each other as they ran. Were they being chased? Were they just trying to escape the cloud? All around, the air was eerily quiet. I didn’t like it. Neither did Kyle, apparently, because he held his gun at the ready. We continued on with our senses on high alert, expecting a zombie attack at any moment. We had walked just over two miles when a roadblock came into view ahead of us. As I watched the activity ahead, I somehow felt less safe than I had at the school. I could just make out the forms of armed gunmen lined across both sides of the interstate. “So this is the safe zone?” I asked Kyle.
“Must be,” he said, still holding his gun ready to shoot.
As we walked closer, a voice came over a loudspeaker, “Lower your weapon!” a voice boomed. I glanced at Kyle. He stood motionless.
“Lower your weapon, or you will be fired upon!” the voice echoed.
“Kyle!” I said. “Put the gun down.”
He hesitated, and his eyes met mine. I wasn’t sure what emotion flashed behind his gaze. He lowered his rifle, but the gunmen ahead held their weapons steadily trained on directly on us.
“Continue forward!” the voice sounded.
We were several yards away when the voice commanded us to get down on our knees and place our hands behind our heads. “Why are they telling us to do that?” Jordan asked. I glanced at Jordan and tried to give him an encouraging smile, but I could feel that it just came off as a quivering mess. I didn’t care if the soldiers were on our side or if they were just doing their jobs, it was damned unnerving to have automatic weapons aimed with the intent to kill with just one wrong move. Sweat rolled down Jordan’s temple, and his jawline flexed. I looked at Kyle for direction. Something didn’t feel right, and yet my rational brain told me I was overreacting. These people would help us, right? I fought the urge to run.
“They probably want to make sure we’re not infected,” Kyle said. “Just do as they say. Don’t make a single move unless they tell you to. Got it?”
“No crap,” Jordan said. “I was gonna break into a dance here in a minute.”
One by one, we dropped our bags, which fell to the pavement with successive thuds. We stooped to our knees and put our hands behind our heads. Kyle placed his gun on the road in front of him and shoved it forward. The weapon skidded across the asphalt. A jarring metallic scraping noise broke the stillness.
“Just don’t make any sudden moves,” Kyle urged.
I didn’t like being out in the open like this in a defenseless position. We were just zombie bait. The armed men moved forward, and others without guns emerged from behind them. They walked slowly and deliberately, carrying what looked like chains.
“Remain still,” the megaphone blared. “Do not attempt to stand or run, or you will be fired upon!”
We knelt and stayed motionless as we waited for whatever they intended to do with us. The hard, rough asphalt caused my knees to ache. One of the men picked up Kyle’s gun and pointed it at us. The soldiers without guns circled around behind us and began slapping handcuffs around our wrists. Two arms reached under my arms at my midsection, and I felt a rigid band being slipped around my midriff. I glanced down without moving my head, and from over the bridge of my nose, I saw what appeared to be a thick rubber belt being positioned around me. Chains rattled as I felt it tighten. My arms positioned at my sides and chained to the band around my waist. I felt my ankles were shackled, and I couldn’t take it anymore. “Why are you doing this to us?” I cried.
“Standard procedure,” one of the men answered in a stereotypic monotone. “Cooperate, and you won’t be harmed.”
They pulled us to our feet and instructed us to walk forward. A double-walled chain link fence topped with coiled razor wire loomed ahead. The entrance had two gates, and when we reached the outer one, it crawled to the side, its wheels squealing as it moved. The guards ushered us through the opening, and the gate closed behind us. We stood inside the cage-like structure waiting. looked up and saw the gate before us was flanked by turrets on each side that resembled fire watch towers you might see in a national park. Each structure housed an armed watchman with weapons trained on us. “Kyle,” I whispered.
He shushed me with a look. “Don’t talk. Just do what they tell you,” he mumbled under his breath. I could feel him beside me, stone still and impassive. My eyes drifted to my left, as I struggled to stay still. I watched his chest rise and fall in measured rhythm. Maybe he was used to this kind of treatment from being in the military, but I wasn’t. Anxiety rose inside me, making it harder to breathe with each passing second. Beyond the gate, a group of people in white biohazard suits appeared. Shaded masks obscured their faces. The effect was stark and intimidating.
The gate opened, and the group walked in our direction. They separated us and guided Kyle, Jordan,
and me toward a row of white, unmarked trailers on wheels that resembled temporary offices common on construction sites. “What are you doing with us?” I asked, turning my head toward the white suits. “Why are you taking me away from my friends?” I felt panicked at the thought of being moved somewhere without Kyle and Jordan.
“We’re taking you to decontamination,” one of the suits answered me. Its voice was female. She guided me to a ramp that led up to the back of the trailer. I looked to my left and right and saw that Jordan and Kyle were being walked up the ramps of two other trucks. I stepped into the back of the unit, followed by three of the suits. They closed a door behind us. Inside, the trailer was appointed with medical equipment and laboratory supplies. The interior was all white and stainless steel. An examination table, blood pressure cuff, and other medical equipment loomed ahead of me, and I felt my pulse quicken. One of the suits picked up a camera and took a shot of my face. “Why are you taking my picture?” I asked.
“For identification,” the female voice said. “We’re going to remove your clothes.” “What? Are you serious?” I asked.
“I am afraid we are serious,” another female voice said.
Viral Series (Book 1): Viral Dawn [Extended Edition] Page 22