He felt the lightheaded feeling accompany that headache. His stomach started to feel sick again. He knew it couldn’t have been those five apples, because he picked them straight from a tree. Even though the creamed beef from the MRE tasted nasty, Frank had eaten enough of those that they would never bother his stomach. Frank knew the reason had to be his head. That and the fact that he really felt bad was how Frank justified to himself stopping for the night.
He found a spot in a thick grassy area off of the highway. A car was parked there and that was where Frank dropped his stuff. He had barely set down the knapsack, unrolled the sleeping bag half way, sat down and leaned against the car, and Frank, M-16 still gripped in his hand across his lap, fell fast asleep.
June 1st - 9:12 p.m.
Ashtonville, Connecticut
“Thank you for going up there,” Joe told Ellen as they walked slowly down the street toward her house.
“I needed to. I really did. And ... I’m glad I went,” Ellen said.
“We’ll get through this. You know that, don’t you?”
“I know.” The words barely crept from her mouth. She saw Joe slow down as they passed the tent where they had isolated the twenty-nine injected with the serum. “How are they?” she asked.
“Just about the same. They aren’t progressing quite as fast, but they’re still progressing.” Joe turned to face her. “Ellen.” He laid his hand on her face. “I want you to know how grateful I am that I still have you. Very, very grateful.”
The slightest of smiles escaped Ellen because that was all she could give. She reached out, wrapping her arms around Joe and held on to him.
Joe backed up and he peered outward. “There’s Miguel. Did you want to speak to him?”
“Yes. Thanks.” Ellen looked to see Miguel heading toward the isolation tent. “Miguel,” she called out to him, waited for him to stop. She needed to speak to him about what he had done on his own. “Miguel.” She walked up to him. “Joe and I would have done it.”
At first Miguel looked confused then horror struck his face. “No, Ellen. I meant no harm.”
“Harm? No.” Ellen held up her hands. “I’m not scolding or yelling. I’m ... I’m thanking you.”
“Thanking me?”
“Yes. For taking the time and care to bury my son for me. I wouldn’t have been able to. I don’t think Joe would have either.”
“When Mr. Slagel tell me to take your boy up to that hill I could not leave him. I thought it best.”
“I saw the cross,” Ellen spoke softly. “Thank you. You don’t know what that means.”
“I was hoping you weren’t Jewish. I did not think it good time to ask.” Miguel smiled fast then erased it. “I pray for you and your children.”
As Ellen opened her mouth to thank him, a frightening shock went through her when she heard Jenny’s voice, not only calling, but screaming her name.
“Ellen!” Jenny extended far from the upstairs bedroom window of Ellen’s house. “Ellen! Come up here!”
“Oh my God.” Ellen’s hand ran over Miguel’s arm as she fled to the house. “Taylor.”
Joe heard the scream for Ellen also, and watched her fly into the house. He took off running.
Ellen’s heart pounded. It seemed like a long journey making it into her house and up the steps. She even stumbled turning the corner upstairs, but she didn’t miss a beat. She kept going straight into her bedroom. “What happened?” she asked panicked, her eyes moving to Taylor on the bed then to William.
William smiled. “We had a drop in temperature.”
Ellen gasped loudly then raced to the bed. “What is it?” she asked.
“An hour ago she was at 106. Two minutes ago,” William smiled again, “102.”
“Oh my God.” Ellen was frightened, scared to death that William was wrong. But she had to know. She didn’t want to fully believe it until she knew it for herself. She spoke rapidly. “Let’s take it again. Take it again to be sure.” Ellen took the aural thermometer that William handed her. Her hands shook violently as she reached down, tugged on Taylor’s ear and prayed as she inserted it. A few seconds later it beeped. Ellen looked. When she saw the reading she shrieked and dropped the thermometer, “101.” Nearly jumping she lunged for William and tossed her arms around him in her enthusiasm. “Thank you.” She kissed his cheek at least ten times. “Oh, thank you.” She turned, and just because she was there, Ellen hugged Jenny as well. “Thank ...” In her embrace she saw Joe standing in the door. “Joe ...” Ellen flew to him grabbing his hand. She pulled him so fast to the bed. She laid her hands on Taylor. “Her fever dropped, Joe. Feel her. Oh, feel how cool she is now, Joe. Feel how cool.”
Slowly and apprehensively Joe walked to the other side of the bed. He reached out his hand laying it on Taylor. When he felt her skin, he exhaled loudly and his hands moved about frantically taking in the feel of the cooler skin. “Oh my God.” Joe raised his head and laid his hand firmly on Ellen’s cheek. “It’s ... it’s a miracle.” Ellen nodded at him and a tear seeped from the corner of her eye, gliding down her face and over Joe’s fingers. “See, Ellen.” he moved her head as he spoke emotionally. “This shows that you were wrong. We haven’t been abandoned yet.” Joe looked down to Taylor then back to Ellen with a smile. “Not just yet.”
DAY FIVE
Tuesday, June 2nd - 7:00 a.m.
The White House - Washington, DC
A barricade wall of fence and trucks kept safe the occupants of the White House, at least while the soldiers holding post were still alive or on duty. Bodies of the diligent protectors lay right where they once held their posts. Normal city sounds were absent in the country’s Capitol. It wasn’t a typical Tuesday. The world around may have stopped functioning, but the sprinkler system for the front lawn of the White House didn’t. They rose up in their normal routine, spraying and ‘cheeing’, keeping that lawn green and alive while everything else died.
Corporal John Matoose just thought he was lucky. Three soldiers were chosen to protect the shelter where President Hadley was housed, two for outside the door, one for inside monitoring the computer system. John went inside. He really thought that was the reason he was sitting there alive, in that monitoring station sporting a ‘life’s a bitch’ tee shirt over his camouflage pants. He knew the two outside had died. He saw it with his own eyes when he peeked. At twenty-three years old, he had a certain ‘dumb innocence’ about him. He truly believed that he was spared of the plague because he made it into the airtight shelter quickly enough. Of course, he was at a loss as to why everyone else in there wasn’t spared as well, everyone else but the president. It was just he and the President. John was still getting used to calling the President ‘George’ as he requested. Perhaps if ‘George’ spoke to John more often, it would feel comfortable. But George kept his distance from John. Not because George felt John wasn’t worthy of his company, but because the President was consumed with the death of his wife.
John thought it a noble gesture on the part of the President, a move of marital dedication along with twinge of masochism. Because George would not leave his wife’s body’s side no matter how badly she began to smell.
John wouldn’t go into the other room. He was invited, but he declined, having gone in there enough during the past twenty-four hours when all forty-eight people in there had dropped dead, going through the pandemonium of being vaulted in with the plague, helping the ill that wouldn’t get better. When it was all said and done, John resumed his post in the other little room. He had his little supply of food. He could see through the glass window just fine as George sat beside the bed his sheet-covered wife still lay upon. John was just fine.
But he knew the time was nearing that they would leave their airtight shelter. He could tell by the numerous times George had checked on the strength of the life signals they monitored and by the fact that George gave him something described as ‘vital’ reading material.
John could see for himself it was classified.
The word was printed right across the front cover. But vital? Ludicrous and boring is what crept through John’s mind as he tortured his way through it. He would have lied and said he finished it, but he feared, knowing the way the president was, there would be a verbal pop quiz following his completion. So between the shifting of his eye watching the life signals dwindle like sand through an hour glass, John slowly read through The Garfield Project.
June 2nd - 8:00 a.m.
New York City, NY
“Andrea, Andrea, wake up.” Denny shook her as she lay on the couch.
Andrea opened her eyes. “What is it, Denny?”
“Listen.”
Andrea tuned in and sprang to her feet at the scratching sound at her front door. “Sit with the baby, Denny.” Andrea walked slowly to the front door; she looked through the peephole and saw nothing. She grabbed the knob and slightly opened the door--not much, but just enough for her eyes to focus in on the carpet of rats that engulfed the hallway. She quickly slammed the door. “Oh, my God.”
“What is it?”
“We have to get out.” Andrea began to gather up the stuff. “Here, Denny, put your backpack on.” She ran over to the window. “Fire escape.” She looked out, the fire escape was clear, but the street below was moving. “They’re everywhere.”
Denny stood beside her. “Rats? Where did they all come from?”
“The sewers. They came up for food.”
“So all we have to do is get out of the neighborhood, huh?”
“Just to my car and that’s a block up the street. I’ll drive over the sons of bitches to get to the police station. Then we can try radioing for help.”
“Are we going down the fire escape?”
“Yes, but I have to figure out what to do when we get to the bottom.” Andrea turned to the front door as the scratching got louder.
“That’s easy; we’ll walk across the top of the cars.”
Andrea smiled at Denny’s idea. “Oh, honey, what would I do without you?” Andrea grabbed the baby carrier and strapped it to her chest. She placed Katie in, put on her backpack, and grabbed her keys. “Wait.” Andrea ran into the kitchen and grabbed a frying pan. “Carry this, Denny.”
“What for?”
“We may have to break the back window to get in the car.”
Andrea and Denny went over to the window with the fire escape. She opened it and they carefully climbed out. She held Denny’s hand as they made the way to the ladder at the bottom. “There’s a car, Denny, but it’s a good four feet from us.” Andrea lowered the ladder and looked around. “I’ve got an idea. How fast do you think you can make it down this ladder to that car?”
“Real fast.”
“Denny, you have to be really fast. When I yell go, you go as fast as you can and try not to fall, ok?”
“Ok, but what about the rats?”
“I hope this works.” Andrea grabbed a planter that was sitting out on the fire escape. “I’m gonna drop this. I need you to climb down as far as you can, ready?”
“Yep.” Denny climbed down to the second rung.
“Watch out!” Andrea pushed the three foot planter over the side, sending it crashing to the ground and sending the rats scurrying. “Run!”
Denny dashed to the car still clutching the frying pan as Andrea awkwardly climbed down and ran to the car barely escaping the thousands of rats racing for her.
“Come on, Denny, quickly.” Andrea ran ahead of him to the next car, reaching to him and helping him across.
They ran across the roofs of ten cars until they reached Andrea’s. As they stood on her car roof, Andrea, with Denny behind her, dropped the frying pan, shattering the rear window.
She climbed down carefully, avoiding glass and moving it with her foot. She held Denny’s hand and with the other clung tightly to baby Katie, who was still strapped to her chest. She climbed though feet first.
Once safely inside the front seat, Andrea handed Katie to Denny. “Hold her tightly.” After starting the car, she pulled from the space and drove down the road slowly. The compact car bounced up and down as the weight of the vehicle crushed the rodents that dared to cross its path.
June 2nd - 8:05 a.m.
Fairfield University - Stanford, Connecticut
Dean realized it was his first ‘real’ shower in days, and he felt better. Hair still wet, wearing clean clothes, he carried a box to the truck that Carl was loading.
“Anything else besides the serum?” Carl asked.
“Just the equipment that’s mixing the last batch. It should be done in an hour. The lab’s empty.”
Carl looked into the back of the truck. “I’d say.”
“Hey.” Dean shrugged. “Trust me; I’ll need that equipment later.” He helped Carl lower the tarp and he looked back to the silent camp. “As for now,” Dean let out a breath. “Our work here is done.”
June 2nd - 8:35 a.m.
Ashtonville, Connecticut
The smaller bedroom was all girl. Taylor’s room. Ellen had decorated it storybook perfect. The pale pink carpet that matched the ruffled curtains on the window. White walls with print border wallpaper. A canopy bed with the most expensive of spreads. And Taylor had her toys, which were never out of order, and that was Taylor’s doing, not Ellen’s. A big, obnoxious doll house sat next to shelves that lined one wall; Taylor’s dolls sat neatly on the shelf as if they’d never been touched. And her little table was in the corner, completely set with a miniature tea service for four.
It was the perfect bedroom and Taylor loved her room, which was why Ellen put her there in her own room, her own bed, so Taylor could be comfortable while she got well.
In her bed Taylor lay with her covers to her chest, still pale and still fevered. Ellen stopped above her, checking the intravenous tubing that flowed from where the bag hung on the headboard down to Taylor’s wrist. She untangled the twist, lifted a clipboard by Taylor’s bed and made a notation. After kissing her daughter and whispering she loved her, Ellen grabbed the small tube of Taylor’s blood from the night stand and left the bedroom.
^^^^
“My son will be here today.” William stated as he stood at the medication table with Joe and Henry. Joe listened. So did Henry, but Henry stood with one arm crossed over his waist and the other brought to his face, hand covering his nose.
“That’s good.” Joe said. “We’ll need him. Things are progressing fast. They’re getting bad. They way I see it, with Taylor stabilized, we can pull Ellen to help.”
“We can have Maggie sit with her.” William suggested. “She’s wearing down.”
“I can see that. It will be the rest she needs. We can put us three, Ellen and Jenny on patients, and your son of course, when he gets here. Keep Mike and Jonas on moving bodies. If they keep that up it helps us keep up.”
William nodded in agreement.
Henry spoke up, muffled and nasal. “I can move the bodies, Joe.”
Joe looked at Henry, turned away then looked again quickly and crossly. He pulled Henry’s hand down from his face. “Quit that.”
“I can’t help it, Joe. It smells.” Henry complained.
“It’ll smell a lot worse if it gets hot.”
“Or rains.” William added.
“But it shouldn’t get hot,” Joe said.
“Actually.” Henry held up a finger. “For this time of year, I was noticing the barometer pressure is extremely ...”
“Henry.” Joe halted him.
“Yes, Joe?”
Joe didn’t say anything, he just shook his head ‘no’, picked up the medication tray, and handed it to Henry. After grabbing his own tray, Joe moved on with William right behind him.
Ellen pretty much noticed Johnny playing with the short wave radio at the kitchen table, but she didn’t notice Jenny crying until after she placed Taylor’s blood in the refrigerator. Maggie comforted Jenny at the kitchen table. “Jenny?” Ellen called out softly. “What happened?”
Jenny shook her h
ead and buried it in her hands.
Maggie looked up to Ellen. “Her parents just passed away.”
Ellen’s eyes closed at first then she made it to the table standing on Jenny’s side. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Ellen laid her hand on Jenny’s back. “Do you need ...” Ellen looked up when she heard the static and crackling coming from the radio. “Johnny, please don’t touch that. If you break it Pap will have a fit.”
As Johnny retracted his hand, Andrea’s voice, a little broken up, came over the airwaves. “Hello? Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me? I need help. Hello?”
Ellen slowly stood up, eye transfixed upon that radio. “Johnny, go get Pap-pap.”
Johnny jumped from his chair, raced from the kitchen to the hall and bolted out the door calling as he did. “Pap! Pap!”
Joe turned from his patient as he heard the call and saw Johnny running his way. “What’s wrong?” Joe stooped down to Johnny’s level fearing something had happened.
“Pap.” Johnny caught his breath. “There’s a woman on the radio. She needs help.”
Shock was the first thing that hit Joe. He wasn’t expecting to hear that. Mouth open, he stood up straight, then almost in a daze he moved quickly back to the house with Johnny.
Henry was close behind.
“Here,” Johnny said out of breath and pointed to the radio.
Joe waved out his hand to hush everyone who muttered questions as he picked up the microphone. “This Joe Slagel, Ashtonville, come in.”
Static.
“Sweet Jesus. Thank God. My name is Andrea Winters. Can you help us?”
“We’ll try,” Joe said. “Where are you radioing from?”
“New York.”
“City?”
The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series Page 19