Plague

by Victor Methos

  But not today. Today, he was actually glad his wife wasn’t here.

  He sat up, pushing against the bed with his arms, and swung his legs over the side. His chest felt compacted and it was like he was breathing through water. He sat motionless a while, enjoying the lightheadedness that came with a brain that was starved of oxygen and slowly dying.

  He knew what he needed: immediate thoracentesis to remove the fluid that was pooling inside and around his lungs, a blood transfusion, pain medication, preferably Demerol, and supplemental oxygen.

  But he also knew that all these had been applied to the patients in Honolulu, and it had only delayed their pain. Perhaps it had even extended their lives by a couple of days, but no more.

  He stood up and reached for the crutches he kept by his bedside and rose to his feet, his stomach spasming and causing a coughing fit that spewed blood over his carpet. When he was done, he wiped his lips and chin with the back of his arm before hobbling out of the room.

  He headed down to the basement by way of the kitchen. His cell phone was on the table and he glanced at it and then stopped and turned around to retrieve it. He sat down at his table with a grunt, pain shooting through him as if rats were eating his bones and spitting them out in his veins. Every inch of his body was in agony. His eyes were on fire; his heart pounded so hard in his chest he felt it in his throat; his joints felt like they could tear with just the slightest movement. He leaned back in the chair and tried to remain as motionless as possible, but the pain didn’t recede.

  He picked up his phone and dialed a number. It went to voicemail.

  “Sam…I just…I don’t know what I’m calling for. I don’t know what happened. This all went so bad I can’t even remember when it was good.” He paused. “Sam, I killed someone. A young woman that was infected with the virus in Los Angeles. She was going to infect other people…I did it for the greater good. That’s our job. That’s what we signed up for.”

  Ralph began to cry. He let himself float away on a wave of emotion and when he was through he noticed the message had ended and he redialed.

  “I killed her, Sam. And I deserve to go to hell for it. Please let them know. Her family will have a suit against the CDC and the US government; they deserve some sort of compensation. I don’t…I don’t even know if she had children. If you talk…just tell them that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Goodbye, Dr. Bower.”

  He hung up the phone and threw it on the table, getting back to his feet and hobbling down the steps to the basement. He fumbled in the dark until his hand hit a thin metal cord and he pulled it and the lightbulb flicked on. The light revealed several canisters of gasoline and lighter fluid along with stacks of matches. He tossed his crutches.

  The jarring movement of pouring gasoline over the basement and the wooden beams that supported the main floor caused him to begin coughing and this time he couldn’t stop. The blood kept spewing and he noticed that his vision blurred. When he reached up and wiped his eyes his fingers came away stained a dark red.

  He kept pouring as he kept coughing and bleeding. Eventually, he couldn’t see. The blood was pouring so quickly, he couldn’t wipe it away fast enough. His heart was pounding from the exercise and it was causing the blood to shoot out like a fountain. He was eventually left looking at the ceiling but he didn’t remember collapsing.

  He tried to stand but found his legs weren’t responding. His head was throbbing so badly he thought that he had gone blind but realized it was just the pain, searing his vision with white hot flashes. He glanced to the matches on a metal worktable. He could no longer stand or didn’t have the will to so he just rolled over and rolled over again until he felt the metal leg of the table against his ribs. He took a moment to rest and then reached up, gripping the side of the table, and pulled himself up enough to grab a set of matches before falling back down again.

  He was blind now, the blood filling his eyes and not draining. He felt the matches with his fingertips, the grainy surface of the strike pad, the smooth wood of the match. He held them a long time, inhaling the fumes of gasoline that made him feel like he could faint and fall into a deep sleep at any moment.

  He struck the match, and threw it on the floor, the crackle of flames immediately filling his basement.

  CHAPTER 48

  Samantha walked into the first hut through the open doorway. It smelled…like nothing. Dirt perhaps. It was bare except for the everyday items found in any household: dishes, quilts, sandals by the entrance, decorations up on the walls. There was a bed with a quilt over it laid flat. It was just a slab of stone with a few furs and she went and removed the quilt.

  “You see something?” Duncan asked, coming up behind her.

  “No.”

  “I don’t see anything either. Let’s go.”

  They exited the hut and made their way to the next one. There was nothing there. They searched two more and then two more, each one barer than the last. In the center of the village was a large pit that looked like it had been used for fires. It was the village’s meeting place, Sam guessed. Serving the same function as the forums in Rome and the capitol buildings, or maybe the shopping malls, in modern cities.

  “I think there must’ve been a mass exodus,” she said. “Everyone took off in a real hurry.”

  “If Agent X infected this village, there should be bones.”

  “They probably buried them in the jungle and the animals got them after that. I don’t think there’s much wasted here.”

  Duncan glanced around. “We haven’t checked out those huts over there. Let’s hit them and then head back.”

  They went to the first hut and found it just as bare, but the second hut had bowls with food in them lying out on the floor. The food was rotted, maggots finishing off the remnants. There was a quill of arrows in one corner. Sam ran her hand over them; they were sharp and made of smooth iron with jagged edges that made them more difficult to pull out of flesh once they’d entered.

  In another corner was a pile of clay dishes. The dishes were old and cracked and heaped on top of each other. Sam was about to turn away and head out of the hut when she noticed something silver in the pile of clay. She reached down to the dishes and carefully removed a few of them. Underneath was a metal canister. It was about a foot in length with a secure black top that had been opened. The thick, black, plastic bottom had grooves cut into it.

  “Duncan, get over here.”

  He came up behind her and peeked over her shoulder. “Holy shit.”

  “It’s a viral container.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “Hold on.” He reached down and though he had on two layers of gloves, he used one of the dishes to flip the canister over. “That’s not just a viral container. That’s a military viral container. We use the same ones at USAMRIID.”

  “The Russians use the same too. I’m sure the North Koreans and Iranians would as well.”

  “Only one way to tell. On the very bottom we print a series of alphanumeric code. The Russians don’t do that. Neither does anyone else I’ve seen.”

  He hesitated. Holding the dish in his hand, he didn’t make a move toward the canister and neither did Sam. Time seemed to slow and Sam thought she was holding her breath but couldn’t be sure. Finally, he flipped the canister the other way, turning the bottom toward them.

  There were three lines of code.

  “I was really hoping you wouldn’t see that,” a voice said behind them.

  They turned. Standing at the entrance of the hut was Donner. His arms were on either side of the entrance and in his right hand Sam could see a gun.

  “What is this?” Sam said. “This is American. What the hell’s going on?”

  “Balance, Dr. Bower. I told you once. It’s all about balance.”

  Duncan scoffed. “Our enemies have this weapon so our allies should too, is that it?”

  He shrugged. “Or maybe our allies have this weapon and our enemies should
too. Balance runs both ways. Do you know what happens when one civilization dominates the world for too long? Decadence, corruption…evil. Sodom and Gomorrah, Babylon, Egypt, Persia, Rome, the French, British, Germans, Russians, and now us. We’ve learned our lesson. We need balance. It is the only thing in history that matters.”

  Duncan turned and picked up the canister. “Just take it and leave.”

  “I think we’re past that, Dr. Adams.”

  Duncan looked down to the canister and then threw it at Donner. After the throw he rushed him but Donner was too fast. He punched at the canister sending it to the ground and lifted his firearm, getting off two rounds that slammed into Duncan and sent him flying off his feet.

  “No!” Sam screamed.

  She ran at Donner as Duncan got back to his feet. Donner fired off a round and missed as Sam threw her entire weight into him. He easily twisted to the side and sent her flying off her feet and onto her back. He smirked as he raised his weapon to fire.

  Duncan slammed the canister into the back of Donner’s head. He toppled over and Duncan jumped for the gun in his hand. The two men started wrestling on the ground, each dazed and bleeding.

  “Run!” Duncan screamed. “Run, go!”

  Samantha got to her feet and sprinted out of the hut. She stopped at the entrance, unsure whether she should leave Duncan. She decided she couldn’t do it and started to run back as Donner elbowed Duncan in the jaw, knocking him unconscious with one blow. Sam froze as Donner pulled up the gun and fired two rounds, the slugs embedding first in the dirt and then in the hut behind her. She screamed and ran, heading to where she had left Benjamin and Cami.

  She ripped off her suit and faceguard, tearing off her gloves and throwing them. She sprinted so fast she hit something that was sticking out of the ground and fell flat on her face. She sat up, glancing back at what had caught her foot. It was long and off white with a bulbous end and a thin middle. She thought perhaps it was a root and then recognition rang in her mind: it was a human femur bone.

  Sam was up on her feet again and running before she had time to process what she had seen. She ran until her legs burned and realized she had already passed where they had left Benjamin and Cami. She stopped and looked behind her. There was nothing but jungle.

  She jogged back a few paces and saw something in the road about ten feet up. It looked like some garbage drifting out from the bushes. As she got closer she saw the brown leather boots and the white socks that went up past the ankles.

  Reaching the spot, Sam bent over the body. It was Benjamin. He had a black wound in his eye; a large hole where his eyeball had been. The round hadn’t exited and she checked his pulse, but it was too late. He had bled to death just moments ago. She quickly scoured the bushes and vine and weeds for Cami’s body. But she didn’t see anything.

  There was a buzzing sound by her ear and she thought it was an insect. She glanced up to see Donner down the road firing at her. Another round whizzed by her head, closer this time, and she screamed. She turned and started running again.

  CHAPTER 49

  Samantha ran for over an hour. By the time she stopped her lungs burned and acid rose in her throat. She fell to her knees, her hands buried in the soft dirt, gasping for air. She knew it wasn’t a good position for deep, heavily oxygenated breaths so she slowly rose and held her arms above her head, stretching out her lungs as far as she could.

  It took almost ten minutes for her heart rate to slow to the point where she felt comfortable walking and she held her hands to her hips and looked around. There wasn’t a single thing she recognized and she didn’t know whether it was because she hadn’t paid attention as they came up this road or because she was somewhere new. Either way, from the position of the sun, far west on the horizon, she could tell it was late afternoon. Night would fall soon and unless she could make it to a town she would be camping out here. Aside from the local tribes who might view her as an invader, she would be exposed to jaguars, snakes, venomous insects, and poisonous fire ants. Without something to keep her off the ground and a fire, she might not make it through the night. She checked her cell phone; no reception.

  There was only one thing to do: she had to go back to the infected village. She had to check on Duncan and find their other cell phones. If she could find Cami they would have a much better chance of survival. Donner would be on the road. She glanced to both sides and chose east, going off the road about twenty feet. Enough that she could see her tracks but could duck under the jungle’s vegetation if she had to.

  She took a deep breath and started walking.

  Every few minutes she looked back over her shoulder and looked down the road. She would stop and listen to the jungle but it was such an alien environment she didn’t know what she was listening for. Someone could be walking right behind her but the noise of the insects and animals and river drowned everything else out.

  Though the shrubbery wasn’t thick it varied from razor sharp to blunt and sticky. It tore at her clothes and the exposed skin on her ankles and arms. She tried to distract her mind from the itchy, burning pain by thinking about home and what she would do first thing when she got back. She thought about her relationship with Duncan and whether…

  The thought of Duncan pounded in her head. She shouldn’t have left him. But what could she have done?

  She thought of this and other things; her career, her relationship to Ralph, anything that would take her mind off the idea of reaching down and tearing at her flesh to relieve the pain.

  By the time she looked up she was in familiar surroundings; the clearing right before the village where she had left Benjamin and Cami. The sun was setting but it was still light and she crouched down and watched the sunbeams glisten off the leaves and grass.

  She wasn’t sure how long she stayed there or what she was even looking for, but after a lengthy time she felt comfortable enough to get up and start making her way into the village.

  It was as quiet and empty as it had been before. As she walked toward the hut she had left Duncan in, she kicked herself for not checking Benjamin for his cell phone as hers would soon be out of power.

  The hut was right in front of her and she froze. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but when she did move her heart was beating so fast she felt like it might tear out of her chest.

  Samantha made her way to the hut and looked in. Duncan sat up, holding leaves to his shoulder just above the acromion bone. She ran in and threw her arms around him.

  “Easy easy easy,” he said, grimacing from the pain. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes as she cupped his face in her hands. “I’m so sorry. I never should’ve left you.”

  “It’s okay. It’s okay. We’re okay now.” He pulled himself up a little stiffer, glancing down to the wound and then back up at her. “I need stiches, Sam. In Benjamin’s bag I had a med kit. Can you get it?”

  “Yeah, wait here,” she said, wiping the tears away from her face and taking a deep breath.

  “Wait, where’s Billy? What happened?”

  “I don’t know. He came after me.”

  “Forget the med kit, we should get outta here. He’ll be back.”

  She helped him to his feet and wrapped his arm around her neck. He didn’t need stitches, Sam knew. She could see that the wound was only lightly bleeding now but he appeared ghostly white and was trembling; he was bleeding internally. Something had been nicked or punctured.

  She stepped out of the hut and was startled by an image next to her. She saw Cami standing next to the hut, her face red and caked in sweat. Before Sam could say anything, Cami raised a small, black Beretta handgun and placed it against Sam’s temple.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Duncan said.

  “Both of you back in the hut, now.”

  “Cami—”

  “Right now or I finish the job.”

  They stepped back a few paces as she entered the hut with them
. Sam noticed the quill of arrows and walked in front of it.

  Cami kept the firearm away from her body and up at shoulder height, not low. Sam leaned against a wall of the hut and kept Duncan’s weight on her.

  “He’ll be back soon,” Cami said. “We’re all just gonna wait right here.”

  “Who are you?” Sam said.

  “You don’t need to know.”

  Duncan said, “There’s no need for this. Just let us go. We won’t tell anybody anything. We don’t know anything. We don’t even know your real names.”

  “And you guys will just go back and not tell anyone that your own country gave a biological weapon to our enemies? You’ll be able to keep your mouths shut, huh? You must have some serious self-control ‘cause I couldn’t do that.”

  “Cami, he’s going to die if we don’t get him to a hospital.”

  “He’s going to die anyway.”

  “Fine, but he won’t die here because of me. I’m taking him to a hospital.” She took a few steps toward the door and Cami put the gun to her forehead.

  “Then I guess you die with him,” Cami said.

  “You first.”

  Sam swung out with the arrow she was holding behind Duncan’s back. It jammed into Cami’s neck up to the shaft. Sam grabbed the gun and lowered it to the ground as Cami screeched. Sam ripped out the arrow, tearing away a large chunk of flesh, and lifted it above her head. She swung down and slammed the arrowhead into Cami’s eye. It went through it like a knife into a tomato and the blood began to pour as Sam took the firearm and stepped away.

  Cami fell to her knees, screaming as she frantically pulled at the arrow, causing more pain as it tugged at the flesh and arteries. Sam aimed the weapon at the back of her head. One shot to the back of the head was instant death, but she couldn’t do it. She lowered the weapon.

  Duncan had fallen on the ground and Sam rushed over to help him up and out of the hut, the screaming from inside fading in the distance as they hobbled down the road.