Independence Day Plague

by Carla Lee Suson

  “Killing others won’t bring them back.”

  “I know.” He said quietly. “But when you or the federal people begin checking into the deaths of those that’ll die tonight, they’ll check these recordings. The world will demand an investigation and nothing will be swept away. Everyone’ll know our government’s dirty little secret.”

  He heard Dorado forming a reply as he hit the exit toggle. He moved towards 17th Street against the crowds. At the corner of 1st and 17th, he stood surrounded by the crowds coming out of the Farragut Metro station. The com-unit screen blank, now message finished. He bent and pushed it into the top of the overflowing garbage can. As he stood, he noticed a Metro police watching him and moving forward. Mitchell nodded, pulled his cap further down over his eyes, and crossed 1st street heading east with a large group of noisy, boisterous teenagers, each wearing a “Thank Jesus for the Day” shirt. They turned towards Constitution Gardens but he kept moving along 1st street. He noted the fewer police presence here with the crowds lowered down to a more manageable level.

  The event was still hours away but he resisted the temptation to ride the trains, checking on the remaining systems. Ten stations surrounded at varying distances the area from the Capitol to the Lincoln Memorial. Only four suited his purpose and one, Navy Memorial/Archives had worked beautifully. However, now stations probably crawled with police. No, he thought. It was time to stay on the edge. He'd walk the streets outside of the festival area, move through the stores and cafes until time came to reappear again.

  By nine, darkness crept across the sky yet ever held at bay by the city glow of streetlights, cars, and path lights. The collective humanity on the Mall area ceased to move like a writhing animal and settled down into a blanket of people across the grounds. Walking near the monument became a constant motion of weaving and overstepping blankets, baskets, and legs. Taylor stood on the path near the top of Washington Monument Hill off side of the speakers that blared out twenty-year old rock and country music. Taylor looked over the sweep of humanity that flowed without break down the hill and out of sight along the tree lined horizon. Dorado easily spotted him outlined in the monument lights, being taller and bulkier than most of the folks that flowed around him. Dorado waved as he crossed the last picnic blanket obstacle.

  Together they moved behind the obelisk, using it as a block against the speaker noise. The noise from the crowd was loud but not uncomfortable. Then men bent heads together in order to hear each other without using their radio mikes.

  “Any more news?”

  Taylor smiled white, perfect teeth against dark skin. “No. We had that one incident of the two gangs fighting around six. Arrested twenty then. Later we hauled off seven more punks showing gang signs. When we searched them, we came up with knives and a plastic manufactured snub-nose up one guy’s sleeves.”

  Dorado nodded, “Good.”

  “Any more threats from the subway perp?”

  “We got the last message at seven.”

  “Yeah, what was it?”

  Dorado turned his head and looked straight into his eyes, “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yeah,” Dorado rubbed his eyes with one hand. “We’ve worn out the dogs checking the subways, the tents, the museums and came up with nothing.” He frowned, watching people continue climbing up the hill from the street. “Shit, they’re still coming in.”

  Taylor glanced behind him. “Yeah, the crowds are monstrous this year but I guess the organizers predicted that.”

  Dorado studied the man for a moment. “Have you worked many of these festivals?”

  Taylor grinned again, “If I don’t work 4th of July, I usually bring the family out. I love the fireworks and it’s usually a peaceful party.”

  “The subway trains were still packed at seven even though the museums closed at six.”

  The tall man nodded, “Yes, People come out for the fireworks. It’s supposed to be particularly grand this year.”

  Dorado nodded. He thumbed his radiophone on again. “Gate one: anything to report?” He ran one by one through the list of ten gates, each reporting a negative. “Patch me back to headquarters… Sherrie, any more notes? Okay. No, there’s no sign of activity.”

  Both men jumped when the first rocket rose in the air and exploded above him. Taylor grinned and Dorado shook his head, scanning the crowds. The faces looked peaceful, all eyes turned upward to the brilliant color display exploding over their heads. Ooohhs and aahs rang out as a collective sigh and the speakers around the monument blared out a deafening musical tribute.

  Taylor and Dorado moved down the thinly cleared walking path to the opposite hill towards 14th Street weaving around the people who stood watching.

  Once away from the speakers, Dorado spoke again. “I don’t get it. That bastard had us hopping all day and then nothing happened. Something's wrong here.”

  “Maybe the second mechanism failed.”

  Dorado nodded, “Yeah that’s possible but we can't assume anyone's safe until we find it. We found three mechanisms under chairs and in signs at the Metro Center but they only contained water too."

  “The bastard’s playing with us for the attention. His broadcasts are all over the news.” Taylor replied. “I’ve gotten three calls since 1:00 from my wife asking about it.”

  Dorado nodded. “We tried to have the festival shut down and evacuated. The control board said there wasn’t enough evidence to support evacuation.

  “The bombs at Navy/Archives?”

  Dorado grimaced. “Said it proved the guy wasn’t serious. Besides, they’re worried about how it looks to our Chinese delegates. We’ve got to pull off a perfect 4th despite all the protestors.”

  “Politics.”

  “Yep fucking politics. Can’t make a move without the stink of politics.” Dorado rubbed his face. “It has been too long a day.”

  They watched the multicolored starbursts and streamers fill the sky above. The collective sighs and aahs almost drowned out the booming of the fire cannons.

  “Going to be a long night still. The roads are going to be packed when everyone tries to leave.” Taylor turned back to Dorado.

  Dorado froze. He scanned across the vast people-carpeted field ahead of him and then turned around and looked at the sea of humanity that flowed around the monument and down the valley past the WWII memorial. The rockets screamed and exploded overhead. He pictured them all rising as a wave of bodies in the dark. He murmured “the crowds.” The color drained from his face. “That’s it,” he said. “The bastard never said it would be before the fireworks show. He only said when the crowds are at their highest. Son of a bitch!”

  Taylor eyes went wide as he scanned the crowd again, but Dorado already put his earpiece back in. “Computer Control, Emergency patch through to operator Sherrie Olsen.”

  After a moment, Olsen’s voice came on the line. “Information Control.”

  “Sherrie, the bombs are scheduled to go off after the fireworks." He turned, mike still on to the dark man beside him. "Taylor, how much time do we have left.”

  “Show’s been going on for about twenty-five minutes. Twenty minutes left.”

  Dorado nodded. He tapped the big man and together they moved towards 14th Street. “Sherrie, He’s hit Navy/Archives and Metro. What is the next biggest station on the list in this area?”

  “Metro and Gallery Place both service three train lines. L’Enfant services four train lines over two levels.”

  “It’s L’Enfant. Call for a Code Red, all officers on L’Enfant. Shut the damn trains down!”

  “Roger.”

  Even along 14th, the crowds sat packed, all faced upward watching the show. The men’s dash slowed to a crawl as they forced their way through. As they reached the edge of Independence Avenue, the explosions overhead tripled and the sky became fiery with light robbing the men of their night vision.

  “The finale!” shouted Taylor, pointing to the sky.

  “Com C
ontrol. This order is for all officers." Dorado yelled into his mike. “Code Red for all officers in the vicinity of Independence Avenue, Georgia Avenue heading towards L’Enfant Plaza. Secure a perimeter and stop anyone from entering the L’Enfant Plaza Metro station.”

  Dorado redoubled his efforts to push through. As the show ended, the crowds rose and shifted, blocking paths and filling the streets. Although, everyone moved now, Dorado and Taylor’s progress slowed even more. The two men took to shouting and shoving in order weave through the tourists.

  As they reached the station twenty minutes later, they saw one lone officer attempting to stop people but the huge wave of people split and flowed around him. The entrance doors and stairs downward were already packed with people. Dorado turned towards Taylor and the three other uniformed officers that trotted up. “Get these people off the stairs and stop anyone else. Use force if you have to. Tell Charro to get to the other entrance with men and guard it. When you can spare them, send down four more men to help clear people out.”

  Taylor immediately sprung into action. “Okay folks off the stairway. We have a situation and we need you to move on to another station.” A few people turned and grumbled moving back upwards. Taylor’s voice amplified again, drill-sergeant style, “This is the DC Police. I need this stairway cleared now!”

  Dorado flattened himself against the railing and forced his way downward throwing elbow jabs and body bumps. Once towards the bottom of the stairs, more people lingered. He flashed a badge and barked orders and they too reluctantly moved up the stairs. The first landing of ticket area of the station was a sea of humanity, pressed tightly and unmoving. He shouted again but the sound dampened out quickly as those closest to him turned to stare.

  “Get out of the station!” he shouted. “Central!” he yelled into the earpiece again. “Patch me through to Metro Station Manger in L’Enfant Plaza.”

  Sherrie’s voice cut in. “Don’t worry Mike, I’m on it,” as the fifty year old station speakers came to life.

  “May I have your attention please? This station is closing and everyone must exit immediately. No trains will run through here tonight.”

  Curses and groans filled the air as people slowly turned and began filtering back up the stairs. The human knot loosened and Dorado moved forward. He thumbed his earpiece again. “Central, patch me through to all units.”

  “Roger, go ahead Lieutenant.”

  “The units guarding L’Enfant station. Until further notice, evacuate the station. No exception. Continue moving them out until you hear from me. Remember what our perp looks like. He's down here somewhere and will try to slip out in the crowds.”

  “You’re wrong.” The unfamiliar voice sounded close behind him.

  Stunned, Dorado whirled around, his eyes scanning the crowds. It took a moment for him to realize the voice came through the headset. “Officer, identify yourself.”

  “My name is James Mitchell and I’m near you. I won't leave until I’ve done what I planned to do. The gentleman at the entrance loaned me his com-unit, you might say. He may not have noticed it is missing yet. Too many people were bumping into him.” A dry chuckle followed. “It's truly amazing what technology you can obtain if you know the right person and have enough money.”

  Dorado growled, “If you set off that bomb, you’ll leave in a body bag.”

  “So be it.”

  Sherrie’s voice cut in again, “Mike, the transmission is coming from upper train level, Green and Yellow platforms near the stairway. He’s right ahead of you.”

  Unholstering his gun, Dorado moved out towards the ticket gate area and flashed his badge at the stationmaster in his glass booth. He pointed a finger at the man and the exit. The worried old man nodded once before joining the few still moving towards the stairs. Once through the gate, Dorado pressed his back against the cement wall. The platform was still filled with humanity. A few looked at him with alarm and moved away back into the entrance. The announcement to evacuate continued overhead. Slow to respond, hundreds of people milled about near the inner stairs and towards the train platforms.

  Taylor’s voice came across the open channel. “Mike, I’ve got two men on their way down to you on the east side.”

  “Roger.” Then he saw the profile of Mitchell ahead through the crowds, waiting near the glass map stand that stood dead center on the train platform. “Mitchell, freeze! DC Police.”

  A few startled screams filled the air as people pushed and ducked to get out of the gun’s path. A baby started to cry. Mitchell stood still for a moment, his back to the officer and arms loose at his side. He slowly raised his arms straight out and turned around.

  “It's not wise to shoot me.” The calm voice came through the com-unit earpiece.

  As Mitchell turned slowly, arms outstretched, Dorado saw the black box in his right hand. Mitchell had two fingers pressed tightly down across a white bar while the other three were splayed open. A deadman switch. “They’re armed already.”

  Dorado felt his chest tighten. “You don’t want to do that. I’ve been listening to you all day. You’ve been dealt a bad hand. I get that. I understand but you’re not a murderer. Look at these people. We’ve got young kids down here. You want them dying the same way your wife did?”

  Mitchell looked pale and sweating. His right hand shook a little as he held the detonator high. “I didn’t want my family to die that way either. We weren’t given a choice.”

  “You have a choice now. We got a lot of kids down here. They don't have to die. Disarm the bomb and I’ll take you somewhere safe. I guarantee we'll take care of you. Your message is out now. No one can stop it. But these people don’t have to suffer.”

  “But they must know. We’ve got to stop the other weapons.”

  Dorado stepped closer, gun held along his line of sight. “We need you to help us find the other vials. Think about it Mitchell, you’re the only expert left. We won't even know what we're looking for without you.”

  Indecision crossed the man’s pale face. The hand with the trigger dropped a little. “You don’t understand. I’m one of their weapons…”

  More muffles screams filled the air as two more men burst through the crowds. “DC Police. Put your hands up!” Cardell screamed.

  Dorado shouted, “Cardell, no. Wait!” as Mitchell turned slowly towards him, extending the switch box.

  Three shots caught Mitchell in the shoulder, chest and stomach. The man swung around with force of the impact, the box flinging out across the tracks. He fell against the bloodied map stand, then rolled onto the ground.

  Within seconds, mini explosions fired off across the upper and lower platform as each ten-foot air handler blew out its grating. Bits of plastic debris rained down across the shrieking, panicking crowd followed by a fine mist spray shooting out from every air handler in every direction. The screams and crying became deafening as people stampeded away from the air handlers. Some dashed back to the ticket gates while others pushed away from the air handlers towards the train rail openings, pushing others down into the five-foot pits.

  Dorado shouted into his com unit. “All units, we have a biohazard incident. Close the station down! No one leaves the station! Everyone is assumed infected. Do you have that? No one leaves the station!”

  Taylor’s voice replied, “Roger, boss. We’ll stop them.”

  Charro responded. “South entrance secured.”

  After fifteen seconds, the sprays stopped. Dorado holstered his weapon and looked around. He tapped off the earpiece and swore, fighting down the rising panic. Marburg killed by bleeding out. For a second he pictured that the sticky wetness that dripped down the walls and drops gleamed across the red brick floor was turning black eating away the stone. In his head, the screaming frightened people turned from white face to red bloody masks, to blackened corpses. They were all infected. Everyone around him was destined to bleed out and die in a matter of days or weeks. “Oh God help us.” He whispered. He shuddered and forced himself
back to the reality of the here and now. He started to shout, to gain control of the situation. With their routes blocked, the crowd slowed, turning around again, wiping fluid out of their eyes and mouths. Cardell, back soaked with spray, moved towards Dorado, gun still out and pointed down. “I got the bastard. You saw. I got him.”

  Dorado growled at him, “You fucking idiot. Right now that’s not the only thing you got. Everyone’s infected. You, me, everyone. And there’s no cure.”

  Cardell’s eyes went wide. “What do you mean?” he asked querulously. “What in hell do you mean?”

  Dorado turned away.

  “What have we got, you son of a bitch.” Cardell screamed. “What did he do?”

  Dorado snarled, “Get control of yourself and then calm those people. Get the fuck out of my face.”

  He walked over to Mitchell’s body. People cleared a circle around them, pressing back away from Mitchell. The dying man's blood mixed with the spray fluid and spread over the platform. Dorado stood, looking down at him. Mitchell’s eyes fluttered open. He gestured with one finger for Dorado to move closer. Dorado squatted down, trying not to touch the wet concrete. The blossom of redness was bright against the man’s white shirt.

  Mitchell coughed and redness appeared on his lips, “The people are safe. I couldn’t do it. Too many innocent dead already.” He tried to rise up. “It’s just salt water. I had to make you believe…” He coughed again and grasped his bloodied chest in pain. “You had to know it could happen and will happen soon.”

  “Don’t talk. We’ll get some help for you.”

  “No, too late.” Mitchell smiled. “I’m joining my family.” He wheezed and continued. “This is important. Burn my body. Don’t let people touch the blood. The infectious agent is in there. I am a survivor of Marburg. It didn’t kill me but…” he coughed again, wheezing now. “It may kill them.”