Quarantine: A Pandora Novel

by McCrohan, Richard

  As the final couple of guests seated themselves in the lecture room, the featured speaker, Vernon Knox was introduced. A thin, neatly dressed, intense and bespeckled man strode out. Taking his place behind the podium he immediately started to speak.

  “Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. I’m so glad to be here today. I’ve just come from the WNEW television station where I must say I had a very unpleasurable discussion with a certain doctor on their news show. It seems that what should be very obvious and incontrovertible facts are not taken as such by our medical and governmental agencies.”

  Mr. Knox went on about an argument between him and a Dr. De LaRosa about the actual existence of zombies. From there, he continued on about zombies, the Pandora virus, rogue comets and alien viruses. Rick and PJ were fascinated and on the edge of their seats rapt with attention. Eileen, for all of her previous disinterest, was looking uncomfortably affected by the speaker’s material. Mora had already left the room after getting a text message from a friend.

  Rick looked around the room as Mr. Knox continued on. He had really expected to see the usual geek contingent seated around the room but was very much surprised by the age and apparent erudite countenance of the people in the audience. These were not the usual fringe and true believer crowds.

  Fifteen minutes later, Mora returned and leaning down nudged Eileen. Mora had a very frightened and concerned look on her face. Eileen looked up in puzzlement and Mora nodded her head for her to get up and join her. She was holding her phone in her hand. As Eileen got up and left with her friend, Rick nudged PJ and shrugged his shoulders in question. PJ, barely taking his eyes off the stage, waved his hand in disregard of Mora’s actions. He quickly glanced at his friend and then shook his head dismissively. The two settled back in their seats although Rick glanced nervously behind him. The two girls had already left the lecture hall.

  When the lecture was over and everybody was starting to leave, an announcement came over the speaker system stating that the museum would be closing early due to unforeseen circumstances. The departing buzz from the audience increased in volume after this as the paranoid atmosphere of the crowd was further fueled by this event. Rick looked around for the girls and found them seated together at the end of the hallway. Upon seeing Rick and PJ they quickly got up and walked over.

  “You really missed a great lecture, Mora,” PJ started,” it was--”

  “Guys,” Mora blurted out interrupting her boyfriend, “my roommate Emma texted me. She said that there was this riot or something at one of the shopping malls in Paramus.”

  “What?” said Rick stunned.

  “Yeah,” joined Eileen, “some people started attacking everyone at one of the stores and soon it spread to other places.”

  Is Rick and PJ looked at each other in almost comic disbelief, Mora, thumbs rapidly moving over her cell phone keypad said, “Here, look,” and pointed the screen in their direction. The phone was now connected to the web and a nauseatingly jarring video showed the inside of the shopping mall and people running around screaming. The camera moved slightly to the entrance of a LensCrafters optical store. As a woman ran out the door, the young man in a black shirt followed, jumped on her back and brought her down to the tile floor. He seemed to be thrashing his head back and forth and gnawing on the nape of her neck. Just then a chair crashed through the plate glass window and several people ran through. At this point the video stopped.

  “See,” said Eileen, “something bad is happening.”

  The two men just stood there aghast, not knowing what to say or do.

  “Emma’s friend who works in the mall sent her this video,” Mora said.

  “This really doesn’t look good,” mumbled PJ.

  “Come on,” said Rick, “let’s get out. The museum’s going to close anyway. We’ll get outside and then decide what we want to do.”

  The four of them passed through the magnificent central lobby and joined the other visitors heading for the exit doors. There were a lot of hushed conversations around them. Rick was able to pick up the words Boston, Pandora and Columbia/Presbyterian several times. However, once they emerged back into the sunlit streets and heard the usual cacophony of traffic noises and pedestrian conversation, the almost claustrophobic doom and gloom they felt inside seemed to lift off of them in the open air.

  PJ looked at his watch then turned his head and scanned the streets ahead of them. Pointing to the next block parallel to them, he said, “Hey look, there’s a little café there. It’s already 1:30 so why don’t we grab a little lunch and a few drinks. I think we could all use them.”

  “Good idea, PJ,” announced Rick. “Let’s walk over there.”

  “Now you’re finally talking some sense,” Mora said gamely although the tension was still evident on her face. She was still trying to convince herself that the video they saw was in New Jersey and they were in New York, so don’t worry about it now. So far, the self-delusion wasn’t working too well.

  Crossing over Columbus Avenue the foursome took seats around an outside table. There were two other tables occupied by couples having lunch. A waiter appeared and they ordered wine and light luncheon dishes to eat. Rick noticed that everyone passing by, the couples seated near them, and even the waitstaff were glued to their cell phones. He even chuckled when two men in business attire, noses stuck in their phones, collided into one another across the street.

  “So,” PJ started. “What did you think of Vernon Knox?”

  “Please PJ, said Eileen, “can we just discuss something else for now? I think I’ve had enough troubling images for one afternoon.”

  Not wanting to get the rest of the day ruined by an argument brought on by already frayed nerves, Rick said, “Yeah, let’s lighten this up. We did the lecture thing and now it’s the girls’ time to have some fun. What you think you two want to do now?” Rick looked to Eileen and smiled.

  “Well,” she said looking at Mora, “I think we should walk around Columbus Avenue a bit and window shop. Then, maybe we could move the car back downtown to Times Square and have an early dinner and a couple of bottles of wine at The View.”

  Mora nodded. “Sounds right to me,” she said smiling.

  Comfortably relaxed now, the conversation became animated as the four discussed their plans for the rest of the day. While they were laughing over something PJ had just said, Rick noticed a Jamaican looking woman slowly walking their way. She was pushing an expensive stroller in front of her that contained a beautiful little girl with bright blonde curls falling to her shoulders in long ringlets. But it wasn’t this gorgeous child that attracted Rick’s attention, it was her dark skinned nanny behind her. The Jamaican nanny slowly plodding behind the stroller had a faraway look on her face. Her eyes were so rheumy and bloodshot that they almost glowed red, yet somehow had a hazy, dull appearance. Her dark, chocolate skin also had chalky cast to it like an old, stale candy bar. That unhealthy looking flesh was stretched over a bony face that looked as though the skin was actually shrinking. The young child smiled and looked around innocently, unaware of the passing pedestrians that were warily avoiding the oncoming duo.

  Rick couldn’t seem to take his eyes from her as she drew near. As if suddenly gaining some momentary awareness, the nanny turned her head and looked directly into Rick’s eyes. As she passed, pushing the beautiful blonde child ahead of her, her lips parted in a smile. Rick could feel the wine curdle in the pit of his stomach as her grin widened. Her teeth gleamed pink in the sun as streaks of blood stained their veneer. Then in an instant she was gone. Rick looked at Eileen but she was engaged in conversation with Mora and PJ. Turning around in his chair he caught sight of the nanny as she turned the corner into one of the brownstones on that block. Her focus now seemed to fall on the child in front of her.

  Rick turned back toward the group and tried to concentrate on his companions’ conversation but he couldn’t shake that bloodstained smile from his mind. Finally he gamely pasted a weak smile on his face and a
nnounced, “Say gang, why don’t we start walking and looking around. I think I’m growing roots.”

  Eileen looked at him with a slightly puzzled expression, but a quick kiss on her forehead ended any hesitation on her part.

  “I want to check out that sweater store on the corner first,” Mora said excitedly. “I thought I noticed a pretty teal crewneck in the window.”

  Rolling his eyes as he smiled, PJ said, “And so it begins.”

  After paying the check, the four friends strode off arm in arm. Right before they walked on, Rick nervously looked behind him. The nanny and her charge were long gone, much to Rick’s relief. He really didn’t want to see her again.

  While Mora and PJ were in the women’s clothing store she saw, Rick took Eileen next door to a chocolatier for a dark chocolate covered strawberry each. As they stood in front savoring the treat Rick became aware of the large number of ambulance and police sirens sounding from the surrounding streets. They were always a ubiquitous part of the soundscape of the streets of New York City, but today they seemed to be everywhere.

  PJ and Mora emerged from the clothing boutique with PJ laughing as Mora grumbled. Rick and Eileen looked at them and at the same time asked, “What?”

  “Do you know how much they wanted for that teal sweater?” Mora said in a stage whisper. “Six hundred bucks! My God, that’s robbery!”

  “No,” snickered PJ, “that’s Upper WestSide prices.”

  More of a Macy’s girl at heart, Mora mumbled, “Still and all…”

  They continued on for another fifteen minutes or so of ever increasing prices before turning around. On the way back to the parking lot they saw a police car double park in front of an apartment building and the two officers quickly get out and run inside of the entrance doors. Walking back to West 77th Street they turned the corner and ten feet in headed down the ramp to the underground lot that they had parked in. Reaching the attendant’s booth at the bottom of the driveway they saw that their car was parked off to the side almost where they had left it. Once again, as before, they were left standing around waiting for the ever tardy attendant.

  Rick glanced in the open driver’s side window of his red Juke and saw that the keys were dangling from the ignition. He reached in and blew the horn.

  As PJ looked in also, he said, “Just take it. The keys are right there.”

  “No,” said Rick, surprised at his friend, “I can’t do that. It’s not right.”

  Blowing out a long gust of air, PJ shrugged, “Whatever.”

  When still no attendant had shown up, Rick walked to the alcove to see if maybe the guy was in the bathroom again. He really hadn’t looked well. Noticing the door was ajar, he hesitantly walked over. He was about to push the door open slightly, but as he neared and could smell the stench coming from that room he thought better of it. Man, that reeked. It smelled like something curled up in there and died.

  Walking back and trying to decide what to do he saw the others looking at him questioningly. Rick shrugged his shoulders and was about to say something when a noise in the darkened rear of the basement lot made him stop short. It was an odd, guttural sound.

  Still looking toward the back of the lot, he motioned to his companions. “Wait here,” he said.

  Rick started to make his way down the aisles of parked automobiles. Nearing the darkened rear of the lot he heard the same sound again.

  “Hello?” Rick called again. “Are you okay?” He glanced back across the underground parking structure at the other three, and then turned again toward the noises.

  He thought he heard a soft voice groan “Help me.” Now very afraid, Rick gingerly sidled forward. From around the darkened corner of a navy blue Acura, the slightly hunched figure of the Hispanic parking attendant shuffled forward. Ryan opened his mouth but didn’t know what to say next.

  As the attendant made his way into the light of one of the working fluorescents, Rick felt his blood freeze. The man’s eyes, though still very bloodshot, had glazed over with a milky haze. Fresh blood was drenched across the front of his attendant’s uniform shirt and was dripping heavily from his opened and gaping maw. His head rotated on his neck as he scanned the lot. It stopped as he located and focused in on Rick. To what seemed to Rick as an excruciatingly long moment, they both stared at each other. Then, with his bloodied, red lips curling in seeming contempt, the man growled at Rick with a rising voice. Placing one hand on the automobile’s hood, he leaned closer toward Rick snarling even louder, blood hanging in long runnels from his chin. Rick took two shaky steps backwards. When he moved, the attendant started a stiff- legged walk toward him, all the while swiping his hands in the air at his intended victim. At this point Rick turned and broke into a run back to his car.

  “Get in the car, get inside now,” he yelled out.

  At first they stood in confusion, but upon seeing the terrified expression on Rick’s face they quickly jumped inside. Rick came up and grabbed the door handle, opened it and jumped inside also. He swiveled his head to look out of the window as he turned the key in the ignition. The bloodied attendant was nearing the car now, snarling furiously. The engine started with the roar. Throwing the shift into drive, Rick stepped on the gas as the car leapt forward barely evading the grasping attendant. The Juke tore up the narrow ramp almost losing both fenders in the process. He reached the sidewalk while lying on the blaring horn. A passing man quickly dodged aside as the red car flew out into the street, spun into a turn, and then with tires screeching, sped off. Angry and cursing, the startled man stood at the entrance shaking his fist and screaming obscenities at the disappearing brake lights. A growling noise caught his attention and as he turned to the sound, the quickly moving attendant exited the lot and attacked him. He brought him down, biting and clawing.

  3

  “What the hell was that?” PJ yelled from the back seat.

  Rick gripped the steering wheel tightly with whitened knuckles. He was breathing in short, rapid pants and trying to calm himself down. Eileen had one hand on his arm and the other over her mouth as she stared wide-eyed at him.

  PJ turned to Mora who had her face pressed up to the window looking back, “He looked sick. I mean, more than sick… he looked like a fucking zombie.” Not getting any response from her he turned back to Rick, his mouth opening and closing silently. For the first time in his life he was actually bereft of words.

  Seeing a long strip of empty curb along a No Parking Zone, Rick quickly pulled alongside and stopped, letting the engine run. He needed to calm down. He was getting lightheaded and had to control his breathing or he would pass out. Opening his car door, he got out on shaky legs and stood up. Draping his arms across the roof, he rested his head against them and slowed down his breathing. The cool metal felt good. Eileen opened her door and stood up to look at Rick with fear and concern. Hearing her exit he glanced at her and gave her a feeble smile.

  “I’ll be okay,” he said, “I just need some air.”

  Rick turned his head and looked back in the direction from which they had just come. It all looked relatively normal. He could see a block away where the police cruiser had pulled up when they were walking. There were now two more squad cars parked alongside; their red and blue lights flashing rhythmically. A small crowd had gathered. At first he wasn’t sure, but when he observed the crowd start to scatter, he knew that he could hear shots being fired. He turned his head and saw Eileen staring at him.

  “This is it, isn’t it?” she said softly.

  Rick just looked at her; he couldn’t seem to find the right words.

  “This is what Knox and all those TV newscasters were talking about. Whatever was happening with the Pandora virus is now happening here isn’t it?” she continued.

  Still staring into her eyes, Rick nodded his head, “Yes, I think so.” A tear ran down Eileen’s face as she helplessly dropped her eyes and gazed absently at the red roof of the Juke.

  When an ambulance raced around the corner and disappeared i
nto the increasing amount of traffic and the shouts and sounds of a scuffle started from diagonally across the street, Rick said, “Come on Eileen. Let’s get back home.”

  As the day lengthened and the hours passed, the cases of the Pandora 2 Mutation continued to exponentially increase. The previous victims of the first Pandora virus epidemic all started to relapse. Like a slowly building tsunami this new viral mutation started on the East Coast of the United States after decimating first Asia, then Europe and Africa. Following the path of the comet’s drifting dust cloud as the earth rotated in space, it rolled across the continent in a deadly wave of infection. When the first effects of the mutated virus began to make themselves known, it took less than two hours before the symptoms ran their course. The first inkling the infected people noticed was a headache that increased in intensity. That was quickly followed by lassitude, fatigue, nausea and a pronounced pallor. The skin took on a pale, white, almost translucent effect heightened by the darkening of the veins beneath as the blood below darkened in color. The face became very drawn as the flesh seemed to almost shrink on the skull, making the cheekbones, eye sockets and teeth seem more prominent. The victim’s eyes seemed sunken as the skin around them attained a bruised look. Once the mutation reached this stage, muscle pain and stiffness occurred. The sclera of the eye turned bloodshot as the tiny blood vessels burst. At this point, the nausea that they experienced increased and led to severe vomiting. Regurgitation turned deadly as the vomitus by then consisted mostly of dark, blackish blood and tissue. Debilitation, by now, was almost complete and the victim soon fell into a coma and died. The virus however was very much alive and continuing to replicate and mix with human DNA to achieve its final stage of maturation. Within fifteen minutes after bodily death, Pandora had effectively reanimated the corpse. The mutated virus, having lodged itself earlier in the brainstem and now taking over all brain and cellular function, restarted, so to speak, the human machine and charged to it one function. And that was to spread the Pandora 2 Mutation to as many victims as possible. As the disease was only spread by blood to blood contact, this was achieved by biting and chewing. The zombies, as the victims now were, didn’t necessarily want to consume the victim’s flesh, but just cause enough damage to achieve infection and death. This was their goal. And this alien Pandora virus was very good at it.