“Karen!” he repeated.
He spotted two guards approaching and ducked through the double doors into the treatment area, ignoring the nurse’s warning. “You can’t go in there.” He looked around, but saw no sign of either Josh or Karen. What he did see sent cold chills racing through him. Sheets covered at least two dozen dead bodies on gurneys pushed up against the walls of the corridor of the makeshift morgue. As he stood there in shock, he felt hands tighten on his arm. He glanced at the two guards flanking him. Each wore disposable masks over their mouth and nose.
“My wife and son,” he said numbly.
One of the guards looked at him with obvious sympathy and said, “Anyone coming here in the last few hours has been sent directly to the FEMA camp in Marana. We’re way past capacity.” He looked around and leaned closer. “There’s talk of transferring most of the worst cases to Marana soon.”
Jeb’s initial resolve to storm through the hospital searching for his family dissolved. He knew he wouldn’t find them here. He stared at the corpses, nodded meekly, and allowed the guards to escort him back outside. Trying to decide what to do, he sat in his truck for a few minutes. As he sat there, two canvas-covered, five-ton army trucks pulled up. A captain jumped down from the cab of one and spoke briefly to the guards. The guard who had confided to Jeb, glanced in his direction, and shook his head slowly. Taking it as a warning, Jeb pulled out of the drive slowly and headed towards Marana. He only hoped he wasn’t too late.
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