by Jeannie Rae
“Thanks Mara,” Walker said over his shoulder.
Mara switched off the lights to half of the room, before shutting the door behind her and swinging closed a newly installed latch on the outside of the door. Feeding the arm of a padlock through the latch, she inserted it into the base and squeezed it closed.
James waited in an adjacent room. She made brief eye contact with him, before approaching a sink and scrubbing her hands vigorously. He remained silent while watching Mara wash her hands for two minutes, and keeping her eye on the clock the entire time. It seemed like a lifetime to her, as she could feel James’ stare piercing a hole through the back of her skull. When finished, she dried her hands with a paper towel, and looked at him with a grim expression. Walking over to the glass wall, standing next to a video camera aimed at the room, she looked at Walker lying on the bed.
“The preliminary inoculation that I have created from Edward’s email will not work for Mr. Walker,” she said with a sigh. “The infection is too advanced. His temperature is one oh-four point six. The area around the wound is massively infected. To be honest, it would be a waste of the inoculation. I would say from his pigmentation changes, temperature and heart rate that he is going to turn in less than thirty minutes.”
“Dr. Brandenburg, you really do not think that it will work at all?” James said clearing his throat and straightening his tie, while eyeing his reflection in the glass.
“No. It will only have a chance of working, if the wound is fresh and not too severe. His hand is missing a sizable piece of tissue. The infected saliva went straight into the blood stream through a relatively large area. That, combined with the fact that adrenaline flooded his body, and his heart pumped vigorously—only helped the infection to spread.”
Mara looked through the glass at Walker lying on the bed. He laid with his head still tilted away from the bandaged hand. As he adjusted his head, small patches of his dark hair detached from his head. A portion of it dusted down to his shoulder while the rest clung to the table paper beneath him. He thumped one of his blue sneakers against the end of the bed, the orange laces swaying as he shook his foot.
“Do you think he may be of value for you and your research? Should we keep him inside this room?” James asked.
“Are you suggesting that,” stunned, she furrowed her brow, searching for the right words. “That is unethical. We cannot keep him contained to study. We have to call the authorities, and contact his family.”
“I am not quizzing you on ethics here. I am simply asking you, could you gain valuable knowledge for your research, by keeping him locked in this room?”
She looked down and began to nod her head, “Yes, we could benefit by observing him, but—”
“Very good then, since there is nothing that the authorities can do at this point to save his life, I think it would be a wasted call. We will keep him under quarantine until further notice. I will take care of contacting his family. Do we have an understanding Mara?” James raised an eyebrow.
Mara felt torn at the idea behind James’ words. While, of course, it would be valuable to study Walker, it would be unethical. The CDC should be in here examining him and his family should be at his side. That is the right thing to do—the humane thing to do. But bringing in the CDC to this would raise many questions—questions that could put an end to not only her career and possibly her freedom, but to Edward’s as well. And all of that is aside from the ramifications that could sink the entire Angora Corporation.
“We do,” Mara confirmed, with a weighted sigh, “What about the Bishops and the Swicks? What are we doing with their remains? I’d like to examine them. Have we contacted their families?”
“I’ve involved the ninth floor on this. Their bodies have been moved up there, they are performing autopsies as we speak and will include you on the results. You simply do not have the manpower to do four autopsies and to continue your current research. It is the most efficient way to handle this situation. I have explained to them that your team is conducting research to create a cure and that is all that they need to know at this point. And you needn’t concern yourself about contacting any families. I have everything in order,” James said with authority.
Mara nodded, it would be futile to argue with him about it now, after already involving others. The ninth floor is a restricted access floor. Even she did not have clearance to the ninth floor. It’s a biogenetics floor. No one, including herself has any idea what goes on up there, except James and the scientists up there. An element of relief fell over Mara, as she knew that their findings would stay within Angora and remain confidential. Her thoughts went to Edward and how out of control this whole thing had become.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
From the bed of the fast moving truck, a blanket of gloom felt as if it were suffocating Joe as he witnessed the chaotic scenes in the area. As they drew closer to his neighborhood, it seemed to worsen. He’d seen two homes on fire, several stalled cars and all the while, maniacs were everywhere.
The two door truck was not much to look at. It appeared as though the paint had originally been a deep shade of red. It had now become a combination of rust, primer, spray paint and even a dab of household paint. The body of the vehicle looked as if it had been used in a wrecking derby, having minuscule and massive dents, scratches and the like. Deep grooves scraped from bumper to bumper on the passenger side and the side mirror was missing, looking as if it had rolled over and slid on its side at some point. The interior of the truck revealed its age, with a bench seat up front, which looked as if it had once been a red tone, but now appeared almost peach in color from sun discoloration. The back of the pickup had a scuffed, black bed liner and the tailgate was completely gone. Despite the appearance of the truck, it had a sturdy body, with next to new thirty-five inch tires, and the engine roared like a beast.
Hank sat up front with his wife Mary. Wearing brown Dockers with a white collared shirt, beneath a black blazer, he looked to be an older gentleman with salt and pepper colored hair, late fifties. His wife’s youth showed, looking to be in her late twenties, with short blonde hair that reached down to her chin. She wore a black, pink and white dress with black sandals. The form fitting dress came down to her mid-thigh and had the skinniest shoulder straps. From their attire, Joe had a feeling that they had been or were going out to dinner when the chaos began.
In the back of the truck, Joe and Kate sat cross legged with their shoulders up against the cab. A fellow rescuee sat in the back with them, who had introduced himself as Jake. Mary had explained that she and Hank rescued the twenty year old firefighter over on Starling about thirty minutes ago. He sat quietly near the rear, his white tee shirt and blue jeans were filthy with soot and smoke. He had taken off his gear, leaving it wadded up beside him. His young face had a fresh shave, and his light brown hair with blonde highlights stuck up all over the place like porcupine needles.
To Joe, the kid looked as though he were on the verge of a complete breakdown. It wasn’t hard to believe that this kid’s life could be on the brink of destruction. After introducing himself, he hadn’t said a word, just starred off into the night.
“Joe, we’re not gonna make it any closer than this,” Hank said turning onto Westgate Avenue.
Joe surveyed the road ahead, craning his neck around the side of the truck. Congested vehicles made the road ahead seem impenetrable. Dozens of crazed townspeople ran wildly in and out of businesses. Making it through this street would prove impossible. It pained Joe to see this area in such distress, after having traveled through it daily to get to work. The hardware store, Nana’s Fudge Factory, and his late wife’s favorite spot—The Sun Ray Café were now in ruins. His heart sank as Hank took the next turn off the Westgate.
“Is there another street we can take to get you home?” Hank asked.
“No, our track is a series of cul-de-sacs that all dump out on Westgate. Damn!” Joe slammed his heel down on the bed liner.
Panic filled Joe as he
thought of Roxy. If there’s no way to get home from Westgate, then there’s to get out either.
“Listen Joe, I’m sure your kid is safe, either locked up tight in the house or maybe she already made it out. But there is no way to get down that road—in the truck, and especially not on foot. The best I can do for you, is offer you and Kate a safe place for the night. I can take you guys to our General Store and we’ll see how things are going in the morning. I swear I’ll bring you back here Joe, but you have to think about Kate and keeping her safe,” Hank fathered.
Hank’s levelheaded plea made sense, but Joe felt like he would be abandoning Roxy. Leaving her all alone to fight for survival in a town filled with death and destruction, weighed heavily on Joe. He couldn’t just desert her.
A lone woman stood in the road ahead. Tilting her head, she released a piercing battle-cry as she raced toward the truck. Suddenly more of her kind flooded the street in an ambush of sorts, surrounding the truck. Jake and Mary began to fire their handguns at the approaching crazies. Hank accelerated, running down the ones out front.
A man dressed in a stained suit and tie latched onto the side of the truck. He extended his arm toward Kate, pawing at her shirt. Pulling his daughter close, Joe kicked the man’s arm—just as another man clung to the side of the truck.
“We’re getting boxed in Hank,” Jake shouted.
Hank picked up the pace, as even more and gunshots echoed down the street. Jake turned his gun on the two men attempting to climb into the truck. As Jake pulled the trigger, the gun made a faint click sound. He was out of bullets. He scooted himself toward the men and kicked them off the side, one at a time.
Hank made three quick turns and came out on a straight-away. He sped away from the mob, as Joe’s hopes of getting to Roxy faded.
“Dad,” Kate’s eyes widened. “I’m gonna try Roxy again.”
Kate reached into the back pocket of her jeans, her hands returned empty. Rubbing them across her front pockets, slipping out her iPod and returning it to her pocket, she looked up to Joe with an unsettling expression.
“I don’t have the phone,” she whispered shaking her head. “Did I give it back to you?”
Joe thought back to when they fled the scene of the motorcycle crash and remembered the plastic and metal pieces he’s seen on the ground.
“I think it fell out of your pocket when we ran,” Joe said, closing his eyes and shaking his head.
“What’ll it be Joe? We’ve got a phone that’s all yours to use. And you’ve got Kate right here safe and sound, come with us to the General Store and let’s keep it that way,” Hank said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Dust filled the air as the Ford pickup pulled onto the gravel and dirt driveway, parking in front of a garage, next to a building with a wooded exterior. The building resembled a log cabin, with a huge sign atop that read, GENERAL STORE. As the vehicle came to a stop, Mary quickly hopped out of the truck, unlocking and removing a padlock from the garage door, by the light of the exterior motion lamps. She yanked on the handle, pulling up the aluminum door with small, squared windows near the top. Hank accelerated into the garage, while Mary closed the door from the outside. Sounds of metal scraping against the door could be heard as she replaced the padlock.
Hank turned off the engine, as the passengers exited the truck. They were in a dual purpose garage and storage area. Boxes were neatly stacked against the far, left wall. They had name brands on them, cases and cases of canned and dry goods, sodas, fountain drink boxes, and so much more. The area was about double the size of a three car garage, with an eighteen foot refrigerated room along the back wall.
“Well folks, welcome to our General Store. This will be a safe place for us to stay for the night. Once the sun comes out in the morning, and we’ve gotten a little rest, we'll get you and your kid back home Joe. We’ll figure it out. And Jake, you can stay as long as you'd like. Let's get inside. It should be nice and cool in here,” Hank announced, wiping sweat from his forehead and cheek with a handkerchief, as he hurried toward the wall on the right and unlocked the dead bolt to a heavy, wooden door.
Upon entering the store, a blast of brisk air enveloped them. The hum of the air conditioner could be heard as they all walked around in silence. Hank flipped a switch on the wall, illuminating the storefront. It was a modest convenience store, with a small coffee counter, fountain drinks, a warming station and five isles of chips, candy bars and similar goods. There is only one cash register. It’s a dinosaur of a register, where the prices are keyed in manually—no barcode scanner here. Above the register, is a handmade wooden sign that reads: Smile you're on video. Although the camera located above the sign has never been connected to any power, Hank thought it would make people think twice about robbing the store. Surprisingly, in the ten years of ownership, he had never had a robbery, even though this place is out in the country. The only lights that illuminate the area at night are the ones mounted to the building. Hank, having installed the six motion sensor halogens himself, during the first week of ownership, knew that they were a necessity, as the closest lamp post had to be at least a half mile down the road. With the General Store being situated on a desolate street, amidst corn fields and grape vineyards on the outskirts of town, decent lighting at night has always been one of Hank’s highest priorities.
“Okay folks, I want everyone to be comfortable. Eat and drink what you need. Please do not waste, though. I don't mind helping out, we’re all in a bad way right now, with what’s going on out there. But please be respectful. This is our business, our livelihood,” Hank announced.
“We should make a list of what we use, so we can pay you back,” Jake declared.
“Nah, that's not necessary. We'll take inventory when this is all over and just write it off. It's not a big deal. But I do appreciate the thought,” Hank smiled, rubbing his hand over the stubble on his chin and cheeks.
Kate walked to the glass front doors. A metal gate, just inside the doors, was closed and locked with a padlock, while the glass doors themselves, remained locked as well.
“Even if those things were way out here, and even if they could somehow break the glass, that gate is top of the line sweetheart. Nobody’s getting in unless we open it for them. So don’t you worry,” Hank said taking notice of Kate’s concerns.
“Good,” Kate nodded with a half-smile at Hank, her face then falling to a more puzzled look. “Where’s Mary?”
“Good question Kate, she should have come in through the back door,” he trailed off as he turned and made his way to the back of the store.
He opened a hollow cored door that led to another much smaller storage area and a kitchenette, with the survivors following close behind. Just inside the small room is a door on the right, marked with another handmade wooden restroom sign. A sink, stove, and refrigerator are lined along the right wall, with a small dinette set near the middle of the room. Boxes of paper cups, plastic cutlery, napkins and such are on the left side of the space. Straight across from where the group had entered, is small window next to another door. Hank hurried to it and turned the knob, finding the door unlocked. He glanced back to the group behind him, with a look of apprehension upon his seasoned face.
“It's unlocked. I'm gonna check, and see if she went back out for some reason. You guys stay back just in case. Jake, you still have that gun I gave you?” Hank asked pulling out a silver and black pistol from his belt.
“Yes Sir, I do,” Jake yanked out a similar gun from his waistband. He moved closer, standing behind Hank, like a shadow on a sunny day.
Joe gently moved Kate behind him, backing away from the door.
Hank twisted the knob slowly, then flipped the switch to the porch light. He slowly pulled the door open, the halogen bulb on the exterior wall illuminating the entire back side of the building. He paused for a moment to listen, but nothing could be heard. Poking his head out the doorway, he quickly looked to the right, then to the left around the door. Peering back at t
he Jake and Joe, he shook his head, as if to say that there hadn’t been a sign of Mary or anything else. With his gun raised, he tactfully stepped outside. Jake grabbed the door behind him, holding it open and keeping his eyes trained on their rescuer.
Six feet of powdery grained dirt extended from the back of the store to a cornfield at the edge of the property. The neighboring land is owned by Jameson Thacker. The land being in the Thacker family for generations, corn has always been their crop. The Thackers are regular customers, visiting the General Store several times a week.
“I see just one set of prints leading to the door, none away from it,” Hank whispered, shaking his head as he examined the prints left behind in the soft earth.
Just then, a rustling could be heard from the corn field before Hank. Both Jake and Hank pointed their weapons in the direction of the sound. Hank could feel his heart pounding so hard, he thought it may burst through his chest. He held his breath as the sound drew nearer and nearer to the edge of the field. Now, some of the corn stalks were visibly quivering as whoever moved through the field came even closer. His eyes widened as the figure finally emerged from the corn, a great big, grey and white tabby cat. The armed men both let out a sigh of relief.
“Chubby! Where is Mama?” Hank said scooping up the cat into his arms. He flashed a toothy grin at Jake, who tucked his gun back into his pants.
“Ahem. What are you guys doing?” A soft voice from behind Kate sounded. The four spun around in unison.
“Mary, where were you?” Hank said, holstering his gun.
“In the restroom Hank. Did you want me to announce it to all of our guests?” She asked bashfully.
“Babe, you left the door unlocked. We thought you went back out,” he stepped back inside the doorway.
“Did I? Oh my god! I didn't mean to worry you. Come inside Hank and we'll lock it up. It makes me nervous to have that door open,” she waved him in.