HOT ZONE: A Post-Apocalyptic Pandemic Thriller (The Zulu Virus Chronicles Book 1)

by Steven Konkoly

  “It won’t be the National Guard. They’re focusing all of their resources on the 465 quarantine. This isn’t confirmed yet, but I heard that a Brigade Combat Team from the 10th Mountain Division is on its way to the Grissom Air Reserve base up in Kokomo. I keep hearing midnight as an arrival time, but I’m not sure if that means arrival here or up at Grissom.”

  “Regular Army units?” said Grimes.

  “That’s what they’re saying,” said Jackson. “Hey, that’s a good thing. They’ll have a lot of experience with roadblocks and containment procedures. When they get here, I’m going to integrate each of you with whatever units they decide to place in Westfield. You’ll help them identify vulnerable approach routes to Route 32 and keep me notified of anything that might impact our neighborhood patrols. Should be easy liaison work. I’d be shocked if you couldn’t find time to catch up on some sleep.”

  “Do we have any information about rules of engagement? Stuff like that?” said David. “It’s a pretty big deal to deploy military units like this. Who do they report to? Are they putting together field hospitals, too?”

  “Dave, you know just as much as I do right now. I’m just trying to get ahead of this a little so we don’t get blindsided when an infantry battalion shows up,” said Jackson. “I’m sending all of you up to the Hamilton County fairgrounds. Everything for the county will be coordinated from there. A sheriff’s department friend of mine said that’s the focal point. FEMA. Homeland. CDC. 10th Mountain. They all have people there right now, trying to sort out this mess. I want you there to make sure they don’t make more of a mess for us in Westfield.”

  “10th Mountain is already there?” said David.

  “Maybe a half-dozen soldiers. Officers and enlisted,” said Jackson.

  David nodded. He was familiar with the concept. “It’s an ADVON party.”

  “That’s it. That’s what he said,” said Jackson.

  “Advanced Echelon. The rest of the brigade won’t be far behind,” said David. “This is a serious combat unit, by the way. We can expect heavily armed vehicles, like uparmored HUMVEEs and MRAPs. They’ll probably come with an aviation element, too. Black Hawk helicopters and Apaches. This isn’t going to be a small presence.”

  “Well, it sounds like you’re the man for the job. You know this stuff better than I do,” said Jackson. “The head wrap might cause a few double takes, but it looks like we’ve found our head liaison. No pun intended.”

  David pretended to laugh, thinking about one thing. How the hell was he going to get out of this? He had no intention of getting roped into this any further. He might be able to get some answers about his ex-wife up in Noblesville, but the trade-off wouldn’t be worth it. Even if he could find her, there was nothing he could do to help her. Time and time again tonight, he’d seen exactly what she’d likely become. A violent, raving lunatic. Her fate was in the county’s hands, or whoever was in charge of this mess now. He suspected the federal government had taken control of the situation through some closed-door session of Congress or some kind of emergency executive order. He might never know.

  What he did know was that the deployment of regular military units on U.S. soil represented a seismic shift in government response, from assistance to containment, and he had no intention of getting caught inside any kind of quarantine zone—regardless of whether he was wearing a badge. Local law enforcement might not even be recognized by federal military units.

  He’d return home as quickly as possible, without drawing too much attention, and get Joshua past the Route 32 containment line before it became impassable. Preferably before the helicopters arrived. Helicopters would be the biggest problem. He knew the area well enough to slip through on foot, but he couldn’t hide from thermal imaging sensors.

  Jackson dismissed the group so they could clean up and grab a few minutes of downtime before heading out. While they filed out of the room, David approached Jackson with an idea.

  “Do you want us to take two cars up?”

  The sergeant winced. “I don’t know if I can spare the vehicles.”

  “We could do one patrol car, so we look official, followed by a personal vehicle,” said David. “We can use my pickup. Plenty of room to haul back some gear if the county’s giving out goodies.”

  “Not a bad idea,” said Jackson. “You’re in charge of this little expedition. Make it happen.”

  “Roger that, Sergeant,” said David.

  Jackson focused on David’s head for a second. “You really got lucky out there, didn’t you?”

  “That’s what everyone keeps telling me,” said David. “I’m starting to believe it.”

  “I wish I had enough ballistic helmets to go around,” said Jackson. “I don’t even have one for each car.”

  “Bower and I left it in the backseat. Figured we’d both take the same risk.”

  “Yeah. That’s what everyone has been saying,” said Jackson. “Maybe the army will loan us some helmets. We are on the front lines, after all.”

  “No doubt about that,” said David. “Sergeant?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What are they going to do with people trying to get past the quarantine line?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but my same contact at county said there’s been initial talk by the FEMA and CDC people about suitable locations for refugee and quarantine camps. This is some serious shit,” said Jackson.

  “No kidding,” said David, nodding. “Well, I’ll get the show on the road, so to speak.”

  “Make sure everyone takes a handheld,” said Jackson. “Cell service is down. We’re looking into that.”

  “We’ll bring radios.”

  He let Jackson walk out of the room, lingering far enough behind to avoid getting caught up with the rest of the newly formed team. Price waited for him down the hallway. When everyone was out of sight, she spoke in a lowered voice.

  “You’re not going to the fairgrounds, are you?”

  He shook his head. “I need to get home. Something is really off with all of this. Cell service is down. We have a combat brigade inbound at any moment. People are going crazy in their homes and trying to kill their own family members. And nothing we’re being told holds water. Pandemic flu, my ass. I’m getting Joshua past that quarantine line before it’s too late.”

  “How do you plan to get out of this liaison detail?” she said, sounding interested in joining him.

  “Jackson wants us to take one police vehicle and one personal car up to Noblesville. I volunteered my pickup,” said David.

  “Well played.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “What about you?”

  “I think I’ll ride shotgun in your pickup if that’s all right with you,” she said reluctantly. “Bill thinks we should pack up Ethan and head to Michigan to stay with his parents. You know my son is in a wheelchair.”

  “No. I know he has muscular dystrophy and had trouble walking, but I didn’t know he was in a wheelchair now. Sorry,” said David.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “It is what it is. He can walk on his own a little bit, but he just recently crossed the line between getting around on his own two feet and needing a wheelchair. He’s safer in the chair, but it complicates things.”

  “I imagine,” said David. “Actually I can’t.”

  “I had thought about sending Bill with Ethan right now, and I’d join them later,” she said. “But now I’m wondering if this might be my last real opportunity to get out of here. Plus, I worry about Bill driving late at night with Ethan. We don’t know if this rage virus is isolated to Indianapolis.”

  “Did you just say rage virus?”

  “Yeah. That’s what I think this is. Like rabies or something similar. I know it sounds crazy, but what other explanation is there? This isn’t just a bunch of people getting freaked out about crowded hospitals and empty grocery store shelves like the news makes it out to be. People are trying to kill each other for no apparent reason, and they’re making no secret of it. I�
��ve worked this job for twenty-one years, and I can count the number of public murders on this thumb,” she said, sticking her thumb toward his face. “Until tonight. By the time the clock strikes twelve, I’m going to need to borrow a hand to keep count.”

  “A disease like that isn’t normally contagious. Not wildly contagious, at least,” said David.

  “I have no idea. I just want to get the hell out of here,” she said. “Get my son and husband out of here.”

  “All right,” he said. “You live in Noblesville, right?”

  She nodded. “I’m southeast of the town center, in a newer development close to 146th.”

  “Which side of 37?”

  “East,” she said, grimacing. “If you get me across the White River, I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

  “I can probably get you farther than that. Would it help if I took you farther south on Allisonville Road?” said David. “Unless something changes, I’m headed in that direction anyway.”

  “I’d go all the way to 116th if I were you,” said Price. “When we break off from the lead car, they’ll report us immediately. You want to be as far away from Westfield as possible.”

  “I live a quarter mile from the Westfield border. They know where to find me. I’m hoping they have bigger fish to fry.”

  “Me too. I live pretty damn close to the fairground,” she said. “I was excited by the idea of heading up there, until Jackson said the 10th Mountain Division was headed our way.”

  “It’s going to get really crowded up there,” he said.

  “We’re heading to Michigan as soon as I step through the door.”

  “Then that’s it,” said David, looking around at the station walls. “All of this for nothing, I guess.”

  “I have a feeling we’ve just seen the tip of the proverbial iceberg out there,” said Price. “In forty-eight hours, nothing will be the same, and all of this will be gone anyway.”

  David didn’t detect an ounce of exaggeration or drama in her voice. She really believed what she’d just said—and so did he.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jack Harper scanned the road ahead of the Jeep, trying not to be lulled into complacency. Their departure from the neighborhood had miraculously gone down without incident. They’d seen a number of inexplicably bizarre things on the way out of the Broad Ripple area, but nothing immediately threatening.

  The number of people outside surprised him, particularly given the ever-present sirens and increasingly frequent gunshots. His first instinct when the gunshots sounded closer was to go inside. He assumed that was pretty normal, but that didn’t seem to be the case on the streets. People were everywhere, like they were headed to a block party or a street festival on Broad Ripple Avenue. Not only that, something felt off about many of them.

  Some people walked sluggishly, like they were in a daze. Others walked fast, but with glitchy body movements. A good number lay on the ground near houses or sat curled up against trees and porches. Some just stood in place, displaying a wide variety of repetitive motions. They saw a few runners screaming wildly as they careened through yards and climbed over the hoods of cars.

  None of it explained what he’d seen in their neighbor’s backyard. That had been the depraved act of a lunatic. He didn’t want to think about it. He especially didn’t want to talk about it with Emma. Mercifully, she hadn’t asked about it again. He had no words to describe what had happened to their dog. For now, it would have to remain unspoken. He needed to stay focused on the task at hand. Once they were on Interstate 65, cruising north at eighty miles per hour, he might have the mental bandwidth and the clarity to discuss it, but only if Emma wanted him to.

  The traffic light down the street turned yellow, and Jack lightly applied the brake in anticipation of stopping.

  “What are you doing?” said Emma.

  “Stopping at the light. Why?”

  “I think you should run this one,” she said. “I don’t like the look of this area.”

  Michigan Road had always looked pretty rundown along this stretch. The road presented one rundown strip mall after another, linked together by a vacant, dilapidated mega-store of some completely defunct brand. Jack couldn’t remember the last time they had driven this way.

  “I’d hate to get pulled over,” said Jack.

  “Are you kidding?” said Emma. “I’d love nothing more than to see a cop right now, even if it means a ticket.”

  “The police have been conspicuously absent from the streets,” he said, speeding up. “Along with cars.”

  “It is close to eleven at night,” she said. “But yeah. It’s a bit creepy.”

  He cruised through the empty intersection, noticing a commotion in the gas station on the corner. About a half-dozen people, men and women both, had gathered around the front door of the station, a similar number of cars stopped at the pumps or pulled into the parking lot facing the door. Emma leaned over to check the fuel gauge.

  “We have enough to make it all the way to my parents’. Barely,” he said. “Plus the half gallon in the lawn mower can. I was planning on siphoning the gas out of your car, but—” He went quiet, realizing where this conversation might lead.

  Fortunately, Emma either didn’t catch on or purposely didn’t pursue it.

  “You were going to siphon gas?” she said, with a joking voice.

  “Yeah. Is that so hard to imagine?” he said. “I’m a regular MacGyver.”

  “Not familiar with that one,” she said. “What were you going to siphon the tank with?”

  “I don’t know. I was going to cut a length of garden hose,” said Jack, squeezing her knee. “Any more questions?”

  “I just never understood how that worked. Seems more like a good way to get a mouthful of gas than anything else,” she said.

  “I honestly couldn’t tell you,” he said. “It just does.”

  They drove in silence for a few more minutes before another traffic signal appeared in the distance. The light turned red as they got closer, a few cars speeding through the intersection. Headlights appeared beyond the intersection. Good. It was actually nice to finally see some signs of civilization. Maybe the whole world hadn’t gone crazy after all.

  “I think I need to stop for this one,” he said.

  “I don’t know. If nothing’s coming from either direction, I’d blow through it.”

  “What street are we coming up on?” said Jack.

  “The last intersection was Seventy-First.”

  “We’re not far at all from the 465. A couple minutes,” said Jack. “The turnoff for Interstate 65 is a few miles beyond that. Keep your fingers crossed.”

  He slowed enough to watch for intersection traffic, seeing nothing that posed even the remotest risk for a collision, before continuing through the red light. The occupants of the car stopped at the light on the opposite side of the intersection watched them speed by.

  “Looked like a family with kids,” said Jack.

  “It was. Not sure why they’d be heading south.”

  “Maybe things aren’t that bad up here,” he said.

  “I hope not,” she said.

  Michigan Road turned into one continuous strip mall after Seventy-First Street, with a stoplight every five hundred feet. The street-side edges of the parking lots became more and more packed with cars and people as they drove north. The east-west roads bustled with a steady flow of traffic, making it impossible to run the traffic lights. Far ahead, a long stream of steady brake lights extended as far as he could see, appearing to take up both sides of the four-lane road. Jack glanced in the rearview mirror, noticing a few headlights farther south. Without knowing it until now, Jack and Emma appeared to be part of a slow dribble of traffic heading out of Indianapolis. Why more people weren’t fleeing was kind of baffling.

  “Looks like some kind of backup,” said Emma.

  “Yeah. I don’t like the idea of getting caught up in that,” said Jack. “We could be here all night if there’s an a
ccident blocking the road.”

  “I’m not familiar enough with this area to come up with a bypass,” said Emma, tapping the phone in her hand. “And my phone is still useless.”

  “Don’t bother with that anymore,” said Jack. “I think I’ll turn us around and take Seventy-Ninth. It has to connect with the 465 at some point.”

  “What about Eighty-Sixth Street? I know that would give us a lot of options.”

  “It looks like that traffic jam extends past Eighty-Sixth,” said Jack. “It’ll take a while to get to Eighty-Sixth. And I’m seeing a lot of people sitting in cars in the parking lots around here. Like they’re waiting for something.”

  “I don’t like this,” said Emma.

  “Me either. I’m pulling a U-turn,” said Jack, easing the Jeep into a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn on Michigan Road.

  They passed two cars headed north before arriving at the Seventy-Ninth Street traffic light. With no cross traffic in sight, he rolled through the red light onto the westbound road, not exactly certain it would lead directly to the 465. Logically, it had to intersect the interstate loop at some point not very far from here, but he couldn’t guarantee Seventy-Ninth Street fed into an on-ramp. A few seconds later, the Jeep’s headlights unveiled a loose line of cars blocking the road. He slammed on the brakes and shifted the Jeep into reverse.

  “What’s wrong!” said Emma, looking up from her phone.

  “Roadblock,” he said before speeding backward and turning the wheel.

  Jack had them headed back toward Michigan Road within moments. He’d caught a glimpse of people lurking off the side of the road near the barricade while he backed up, but the scene had gone dark when he turned. He had no real idea what that had been about. Neighborhood blockade? Trap? Now what?

  “What about the other side of Michigan?” said Emma.

  He needed to think about it, but he didn’t have much time, and there was no way he was slowing down until he got back to Michigan Road. It looked like some kind of setup to rob them. If it had been a neighborhood security checkpoint, the people would have been more visible.