Sealed In

by Druga, Jacqueline

  Everything was so gray.

  A text message from his wife made him think of his children and how in two days they would scurry about the house jumping for joy over Santa’s recent visit. And then he thought of the children of Hartworth who wouldn’t get to see Christmas, whose presents were probably tucked away and hidden, while their parents anxiously awaited putting them out.

  A Christmas that would never happen.

  In the midst of prepping the lab to search for answers and analyze samples, his phone rang.

  Edward took the call and accepted the information. Little did he know how vital that information would end up being.

  The Centers for Disease Control were calling to tell him that the last phone call was placed three days earlier, and it was one call. Before that it was two whole days. One call to a small town forty miles away called Lincoln.

  Edward wrote down the caller’s name and address. He would seek the person, dead or alive, and hopefully find answers. He didn’t want to send a team to Lincoln, not yet, but he would have to soon. They needed to find out if someone from Lincoln had been in Hartworth or knew of the virus.

  The phone call was brief, but while he was on the phone, he heard two assistants enter in the back. He knew why they had returned.

  They were bringing Edward a body. One to examine to get a sample, to start learning the virus.

  After ending the call, Edward was ready to suit up again. A glass wall separated him from the lab and another window from the autopsy room. He signaled that he would be right there. One of his assistants, Harold Daily, waved his arm and indicated to Edward to lift the interoffice phone.

  “What’s up, Harold?” he asked.

  Harold spoke through the radio system in his suit. “We saw some weird shit out there.”

  “So weird that you couldn’t wait until I came in there?” Edward asked.

  “Actually yeah. Megan and I have to prep the body. While she starts, I’m gonna upload the photos I took. The body needs to warm up some.”

  Edward nodded. “Upload them.” He hung up the phone, walked to the coffee pot, poured a cup of coffee, then made his way to the computer.

  He lifted the phone once more. “They uploaded?”

  “Yeah,” Harold answered.

  Edward clicked on the folder. The first picture was of the young man in the pickup truck holding the shotgun. “What am I looking at?”

  “The first house.”

  Edward clicked the picture. “Ok. What about it.”

  “Empty.” Harold said. “Next house, empty. We hit about fifteen houses in the main portion of town. All empty. Population 843 and the first batches of houses were empty.”

  “Did they leave? Oh, God. ..”

  “Wait. Click the fire station.”

  Edward stared at a picture of the building’s exterior. “What about it.”

  “The sign on the door.” Harold explained. “It reads ...”

  The next photo zoomed in.

  “Stay out. Infected!” Harold recited. “And then we went inside.”

  Edward’s stomach dropped when he looked at the first picture. Inside the fire station were hundred of bodies. People were lying on blankets and sleeping bags. It appeared they tried to set up a medical area.

  “And this is one of three we found so far,” Harold stated. “We’re going to keep checking houses, but my guess is we’ll find more spots like this. Dead men in pickup trucks with guns were placed on all access roads in and out of this town.”

  Edward sat back, took a deep breath, and rubbed his chin. “So basically they shut the town down and quarantined themselves.”

  “Yes,” Harold said. “Looks that way. Something horrific ravished this town quickly, but not so quick that they couldn’t take time to set up medical aid stations.”

  “They knew it was coming,” Edward stated.

  “That’s my guess.”

  “Wow.” Although not a medical word, it was the best Edward could muster. “Wow. They knew it was coming. Locked down tight to keep it in. Yet they didn’t tell a soul…” Edward’s eyes shifted to the information he received from the CDC regarding the last phone call. “Or did they?”

  Chapter Four

  Lincoln, Montana

  November 28th

  His father was an idiot.

  That was what Richie thought as he kicked back on the couch replying to his father via text message. He didn’t mean to disrespect the man who was a vital part of his creation, but his father was clueless. How he acquired any kind of fame was beyond Richie. He played guitar well and sang even better, but somewhere people had to notice he wasn’t bright.

  He sent the word, ‘sure’ in reply to the question, ‘Can we text?”

  The texting question wasn’t about communicating on a regular basis, it was a request for when his father stopped by. Del stated he didn’t know the sign language thing.

  It cracked Richie up to think his father was so naïve that he could stumble into town nearly a decade later and all would be fine. Richie wouldn’t be mean, not at all, but he certainly didn’t hold a candle for his father. Heather did, for some odd reason.

  “Daddy is famous,” she’d say.

  Yeah, well, Dad’s been on the cover of every tabloid for cheating on his last two wives.

  Heather didn’t notice.

  Richie didn’t want to text anymore. He wanted to get back to his word game, so he sent his father a message that he’d see him when he got there and returned to his game. No sooner had he done that, his mother laid her hand upon his shoulder, and when she drew his attention, she signed, “Can you get the door? My hair isn’t done.”

  “Ok,” Richie signed. “Who is it?”

  “Andy.”

  Richie nodded and got off the couch while his mother scurried away and up the stairs. He opened the door.

  Andy smiled as Richie opened the door wider.

  “Come in,” Richie signed. “My mother is doing her hair. She’ll be right down.”

  A nod and Andy closed the door.

  “So you guys are hanging tonight?” Richie asked.

  That was when Andy returned the signing and did so smoothly. “Actually, we have a date.”

  “No way.”

  “Yes, your mother asked me out.”

  “Cool. It’s about time.”

  “I agree.” Andy raised his eyes when he heard footsteps on the stairs, and Emma raced into the room.

  “I’m ready,” she said and signed.

  Andy spoke, “D … did … y … you … hungry?”

  “Oh, yeah, I can eat. I’m starved. I’m in the mood for ribs. They have the rib special at Bronco’s tonight. Unless you don’t like ribs.”

  Andy shook his head. “No that … s … sow …s.”

  “Salmon, you want salmon? Hmm.” Emma scratched her head. “We may have to go outside the county for good salmon, but I’ll put it in your hands. Surprise me.”

  Andy chuckled. “K … K … ok. Hey …” He reached out. “Pur … pur …”

  “My purse. Thank you.” Emma spun and hurried away.

  Richie who had witnessed it and was pretty good at reading lips, tapped Andy’s arm for attention. “Does she interrupt everything you say?”

  “She always does,” Andy signed. “She tries to guess what I am saying so I don’t have to struggle. She guessed wrong.”

  Richie laughed. “Oh my God, that’s so funny yet so wrong.”

  Andy shrugged.

  “You should just sign.”

  “No, she doesn’t know I sign, and it’s more entertaining this way.”

  “Ready,” Emma announced, entering the room. “Oh, look, you were signing. I didn’t know you signed.”

  Andy held his fingers an inch apart.

  “A little is better than none,” Emma said. “I’ll teach you. Especially if we make this a regular thing, this dating. Wait. Too forward?”

  Andy shook his head.

  “Good.” Emma leaned over a
nd kissed Richie. “Feel free to lock the door, not answer, or even call the cops when your dad shows up.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Richie replied. “Have fun.”

  “Don’t wait up,” Emma said as she walked to the door and paused, looking at Andy. “Wait. Was that forward?”

  Andy held up his fingers again to signify ‘a little,’ and then with a smile, he opened the door.

  <><><><>

  They really had a date?

  They called it that?

  Did they say where they’re going?

  Thanks.

  Stew got the information he wanted; he was curious, because he saw Andy drive through town in a clean pickup truck and combed hair.

  So he called his grandson, Richie.

  Richie gave him all the information he needed, and Stew, just to be ‘that kind of guy’, went to Broncos to watch his daughter.

  Not to make her nervous or embarrass her, but to make sure she didn’t screw up. The last thing he wanted was for Emma to be alone. She hadn’t dated in years. She went to have drinks with Andy often, but it was never a date.

  Stew knew Andy was a good guy.

  He also knew Andy was the only man in town or in the state of Montana that could deal with Emma.

  His daughter needed that, and Stew needed someone to keep her in line.

  Andy had the potential to pull her from her insane world into a semi-insane world, because Emma would never be normal.

  Dinner was excellent, and Emma wasn’t really surprised that conversation didn’t fly; she didn’t expect it to with Andy. Typically, they just met for drinks, played pool or darts, and talked very little. But it was a pseudo date and Emma was making the best of it, especially since not only was Andy paying, he decided on ribs for her when he was in the mood for salmon.

  Since he was communicating with Richie, Emma decided to teach him some sign language over dinner. Andy picked it up pretty quickly. She felt guilty about one thing she taught him, and eventually she would tell him that when he thought he was signing, ‘are you having a good time?’ he was actually saying, “You’re the coolest chick I know.”

  Emma snickered at that, but Andy kept signing it and grasped it like a pro.

  There was something different about the night. Andy looked different. It wasn’t just the hair cut he got for the occasion. Emma couldn’t place her finger on it.

  They headed to the Tilt and Twist, an earthy bar just on the outskirts of Lincoln. It was pretty busy, but it was Friday, the closet bar to town, and karaoke night. She wasn’t surprised to see her father at the bar when she walked in. Of course, he would be there, spying. Stew merely waved, lifted a drink, and commented that her hair looked better and that she should have worn something other than jeans.

  She dragged Andy from the handshake to grab a pool table while one was open. Andy quickly placed down a few games worth of quarters.

  “You’re so on,” Emma told Andy. “And I am not taking it easy on you because it’s date night.” She chalked up her stick.

  He found the one he would use, looked at Emma, and signed. “You’re the coolest chick I know.”

  Emma laughed. “I am having a great time, thanks.” She paused and lowered her head. “Can I tell you something?”

  Andy nodded.

  Emma walked to him. “You’re the coolest guy I know.”

  Andy laughed with a throw back of his head.

  “I’m serious. Don’t make fun of me. Why are you laughing?”

  Andy shook his head. “Not … not used to c …. c …”

  “Compliments?”

  He gave a thumbs up.

  “You should be; you are a great guy, Andy. And can I tell you a secret?”

  “Y … yes.”

  “I’ve kinda always liked you.”

  Andy moistened his lips, moved closer to Emma, leaned down some and said. “I .. k … k ..kind of ….” He struggled with a twitch of his head.

  “Have a girlfriend?”

  Andy’s head cocked.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Andy facially ridiculed.

  “What?”

  “No. I l … l ….”

  “Left your wallet in the car?”

  “Em …”

  “Look at me like a sister?”

  “Em …”

  “Like us better as friends? I’m going through all the ‘L’ words here, help me out.”

  Immediately his hand shot to her mouth and he shook his head. He stepped back, held up a finger, and then signed to her. “No, I’ve kinda always liked you, too.”

  Emma’s mouth dropped open. “You learn really fast. Holy crap. I never knew anyone to pick up sign language that quickly.”

  Andy shook his head and signed. “I have known it for years. You of all people should know it’s the first thing they teach you in speech therapy. I’ve been going since the accident.”

  “Then if you …” she gasped. “Oh, you dick.” She swiped playfully at him. “Then you knew I taught you wrong.”

  “Yes,” Andy said.

  Emma laughed. “You are so getting beat tonight for sure.” Suddenly the smile dropped from her face.

  Andy looked over his shoulder, then back to Emma with a roll of his eyes. “Ig … ignore him. P … play.”

  Emma growled and racked the balls. “Why is he here? Oh, great, he’s coming over. Hey, he doesn’t sign, we can talk about him, and he won’t know what we’re saying.”

  Andy snapped his finger and pointed to the pool table, then lifted the rack. “B … B .. break.”

  Emma did. It wasn’t a very good break, more than likely because she wasn’t concentrating. Especially because she saw Del walk to the pool table.

  “I didn’t cause that, did I?” Del asked.

  “No,” Emma answered. “Why are you here?”

  “It’s the only kicking bar around.” Del replied. “And I’m being friendly. I bought you guys a drink. Your next round is on me.”

  “Wow. Cool. Thanks. Wondered what you did with all that money,” Emma said, watching Andy take his turn. She winced when he made his shot and seemingly just played as if Del wasn’t there.

  “You’re getting your ass beat,” Del said.

  “I see that.”

  “Em, come on, be nice. I’m gonna be in town for a while.”

  “Why is that?” Emma spun to him. “We haven’t seen you in years.”

  “I’ve been busy,” Del replied. “Your turn.”

  Emma grunted. She just knew any shot she took wasn’t going to be her best. She lined it up, aimed, revved back, took a shot, and missed.

  Del snickered. “Sorry. Hey, I’m not interrupting date night. Andy seems pissed you aren’t talking.”

  “You are interrupting date night,” Emma said, “and he’s just concentrating.”

  Andy looked around the table for a shot. “Em,” he called then signed what he was going to shoot for.

  “Really?” Del asked. “He signs?”

  “Yes, so he can communicate with your son,” Emma said smugly.

  “What did he say?”

  “He said he’s a big fan of you on YouTube.” She shook her head. “None of your business what he said.” She watched Andy take a shot.

  “Sign language is good. For him. At least,” Del said, “he won’t stutter that way. Unless he gets a twitch in his hand.”

  “Oh my God.” Emma grunted and spun to Andy. “For the love of all that is good will you please just deck him. Hit him. I won’t say a word. Go.”

  Andy just laughed. He shook his head, kissed Emma on the forehead, and took another shot.

  “Cute,” Del commented. “Anyhow, I’ll let you guys go.” He turned, stopped, and looked at Andy. “I’m gonna sing Karaoke tonight. What do you say, Andy?”

  Andy gave a thumbs up.

  “Good. I’ll put you in, too.” Del turned.

  “Whoa!” Emma hurried to Del. “What the hell is the matter with you?”

  “What? I’m gonna
put Andy in to sing.” Del shrugged. “What’s the big deal?”

  “He didn’t say he would.”

  “Actually, Em, he didn’t say anything.” Del choked out a laugh. “This will be interesting.” Del waved to Andy. “See …see… see you A … A… A.. Andy.”

  “Asshole,” Emma commented as Del walked away. She returned to Andy. “He’s putting your name in.”

  Andy shrugged. “It’s ….so ….so … kay.”

  “Really? You’ll sing?”

  Andy nodded. “You … you .. lost.”

  Emma looked at the empty table. “Shit. I’ll rack.” She walked to the table. “You don’t have to sing.”

  “So…so… Kay. I sing.”

  “Oh. You never did before.”

  Another shrug from Andy.

  “Are you any good?”

  “I’m okay.”

  Okay.

  Andy said he was ‘okay’. Admittedly, Emma was nervous for Andy when he got up to sing. Del had just done a karaoke version of his own song, rocking the house, getting a standing ovation, and then Andy stepped up.

  He whispered to the DJ what he wanted to sing and never took the microphone off the stand.

  Emma downed a shot.

  Her own father stood with her, telling her that, after Andy was done, he was going to personally take Del from the bar.

  Emma felt relieved by that. The last thing Andy needed was to be even more humiliated by Del. After all, Del was an awesome singer.

  But in actuality, Del couldn’t hold a candle to Andy.

  The song was slow, but not so much a ballad as an inspirational tune. At the first note, the first word, Emma stumbled back.

  There was Andy. Tall, fit, rough around the edges, yet the smooth, tenor voice with emotions just blew her away. An occasional rasp crept in as he sang, but Andy didn’t look at the words on the screen, he just sang.

  More than anything, Emma wanted to take a picture of Del’s reaction. Obviously, Andy was a better singer. Hands down. But she didn’t look at Del; she couldn’t take her eyes off of Andy.

  ‘Good Lord,’ her father whispered beside her. “Is that our Andy singing?”