Eximus

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Eximus Page 15

by Marcus Wearmouth


  Logan paused a heartbeat to do the math. “One hundred and eighty. That’s all you brought?”

  “I told you,” Rich shouted. He glanced at Cate and the boys then his face paled. “I needed power for refrigeration. Been trying to explain that since you arrived.”

  “So potentially we could have ninety two people ill with a virus?”

  “We have antibiotics and other meds. I’ll write up care plans for those who haven’t had a shot,” Rich said, as he gave the boys their doses.

  After their shouts of pain, the nurse rubbed a swab on their arms then produced two lollipops.

  “I’ll wait until you’ve done all the kids,” Cate said.

  “We have enough for the kids,” Logan said.

  Cate shook her head. “What about others, the old and people already sick?”

  “We’ve been just inoculating kids so far,” Logan said, looking to Rich for confirmation.

  Rich looked at his clipboard and lifted a sheet. “You don’t understand how disease prevention works.”

  “I told you to give it to the kids.”

  “Apart from the children,” he said, pausing for effect. “I’m vaccinating the strongest then we quarantine the rest. We have to ensure the highest survival proportion.”

  “We can’t quarantine in here, it’s not possible with our air circulation. Kids only for the moment.”

  “A Doctor doesn’t take orders from an engineer.”

  “There it is,” Logan said, crossing the room in three strides. “Do you want my job? Well have it with my thanks.”

  Rich pushed back his glasses, returning Logan’s stare. “This is about disease prevention,” he said, emphasizing each word.

  Logan spun away to open the hospital door. Outside, stood the family whose kids had played with Adam and Gregor. “Children first, we need to prioritize.”

  The woman seemed about to protest, but was nudged into silence by her partner. She pushed three children forward and they entered the hospital, nervous and wide eyed. Behind the couple, others were passing on information back down the line. There were murmured protests, then shouts back and forth. The whole line of people bent forward towards him. He held up his arms to placate them.

  “There’s a problem with the number of shots we have. Kids first then the rest,” he shouted.

  “I bet you’ve had one,” a voice from the crowd shouted.

  “Before I knew what it was for. Trust me, I’m trying to do everything I can to resolve this. Those without shots can be given other medicine and we’ll start a quarantine to prevent infection,” he shouted.

  “Why haven’t we got enough?”

  “Who decides who gets a shot?”

  “Let’s go outside and get some more?”

  The questions were fired at Logan from the line. He couldn’t make out who had said what. “Please, just stay calm, we’re working on it.”

  “Bloody typical, here comes the army.”

  Logan turned to see Ortiz leading two ranks of armed soldiers. He breathed a sigh of relief. The soldiers halted and Ortiz detached to approach Logan.

  “We need to keep everyone calm. Flu shots are running out. Kids first then we decide who gets the others,” Logan said.

  Ortiz nodded then turned back to his men. “SO2, along the line, bring the children forward for their shots. SO3, deploy around the hospital.”

  Cate emerged from the hospital, holding both boys by the hand. She walked up and kissed his cheek. “I’ll take them out of here, be careful,” she whispered.

  The boys kept close to their mum. Both quiet and wide eyed, reading the situation.

  “Did you get a shot?”

  “No, I’ll get mine later.”

  Logan grabbed her shoulders and looked down into her eyes, a rising tide of noise escalated from the crowd at his back. He glanced across to see crying children led by armed soldiers filtering into the hospital.

  “Take the boys to my office,” he whispered. “Stay there until this blows over.”

  Cate held each boys hand and frog marched them away from the hospital. Gregor looked back and Logan offered him a wave, chewing his lip as they disappeared around the corner of a tunnel.

  There were seventy three children below the age of sixteen on the mine register. He didn’t know how many had already been vaccinated. They would have to wait until Rich confirmed all the children were done.

  “Ortiz, send a few men to collect the rest of the kids.”

  The crowd swelled and rippled. Raised voices and screams rose above the agitated hum. Two men burst out and rolled on the sandy floor, their arms pumping so fast they could barely be hurting each other. Five soldiers detached to break it up. The subdued men eventually lay restrained on the ground.

  “He sneezed on me,” one screamed.

  Children were running out of the hospital as they were vaccinated, rejoining worried parents. He lost count of the number going in, too unsettled by the ticking time bomb. He knew they couldn’t control this mob for much longer. Finally, Rich confirmed that all children had been treated.

  Logan leaned in close to him. “How many left?”

  “Eighty five,”

  Shit

  Rich closed the hospital door as if to disassociate himself with what happened next. Behind him, a crowd of people buzzed like an army of bees.

  “Move to the main Cavern,” he shouted. “We draw names for shots.”

  Ortiz repeated his words and they were soon being repeated by others. Logan threw open the hospital door, slipped through and closed it behind him. Blowing out a breath and rubbing his head.

  “Essential persons and soldiers should be given priority,” Rich said.

  He was sitting on a stool, equipment laid out in front of him and peering at Logan over his glasses.

  “If that’s how we run the mine then we’re no better than the people who put us here.”

  “Wake up Logan,” Rich said, standing and throwing down a plastic lid. “We have to decide what is best for the whole community.”

  “We write all names on paper then draw them out of a hat in front of everyone.”

  Rich shook his head and walked from the room.

  #

  Ortiz’s soldiers and runners ensured all miners gathered in the central cavern. An hour later, in very different circumstances, Logan climbed the platform steps.

  “As many of you know, we have a flu outbreak,” he began. “Some of those suffering symptoms have been vaccinated, and confined to their rooms. All children under sixteen have received shots. However, we only have eighty five left.”

  Logan paused as the crowd began shouting amongst themselves. Soldiers dotted in the crowd stood silently, all looking at him with grim expressions. The workshop group also stood quietly at the front left hand side.

  He remained silent, palms facing out until the rumble began to die down. “The shots left will be fairly distributed.”

  “How,” a loud voice shot back.

  “All names are on pieces of paper in this bag. Sergeant Ortiz will pull names out and hand them to me. If your name is read out, then walk forward to Doctor Sarin at the foot of this platform. There can be no debate. This is the fairest way to proceed.”

  He let the crowd absorb the information, offering them gentle nods and holding a steady gaze. Ortiz pulled out a folded paper, showed it to the crowd then handed it to him.

  “Leonora Clarke,” Logan said, looking up.

  A large woman pushed her way through the crowd, smiling gratefully up at Logan. She was met by Rich, who administered the shot.

  “Next, Bailey Davies.”

  The list of names continued and gradually the crowd thinned. Cate remained amongst the workshop group and his stomach flipped. He hesitated over the next name. “Adele Smith.”

  The paper was handed around for inspection by those closest to the platform. There were ten shots left and over a hundred people in the crowd. Logan looked to Jarod for support, mentally asking him for
a plan.

  “Sharon Wright.”

  “David Meakin.”

  “Anita Fox.”

  “Mike Berry.”

  Cate stared back at him from the crowd. She shouldn’t be there. He was in charge of the whole place. He could just read out her name and accept the consequences.

  “Arlene Walker.”

  “Tom Ortiz,” Logan said, glancing at the sergeant holding the bag.

  “Rob Marsden.”

  “Andy Cole.”

  “Rafferty Davies.”

  The last name was handed to him by Ortiz. He took it slowly and prayed for her name as he read it out loud.

  “Kevin Tweedle.”

  The remainder of the crowd erupted in fury, shouting and pointing at Logan. Those at the back pushed forward in a bid to reach him. Fights broke out and soldiers rushed in. Cate was knocked to the side, as a group surged towards the platform.

  “What about me?”

  “You fixed it.”

  “He’s had one.”

  Logan couldn’t react to the accusations, turning and stepping down to the ground. Jarod and Sean grabbed his arms, guiding him away. The angry buzzing crowd noise dissipated when the air lock door slammed shut behind them.

  #

  Over the next few days all vaccinated miners were forced to take on additional duties due to quarantine. This extra work put a strain on previously amiable relationships. Ortiz dealt with fighting in the kitchen between two families. Even their children joined in until they were all restrained.

  Logan drafted a notice about sneezing in public. The first incident in the dining area led to an angry exchange and the sneezer being dragged to the hospital. Then a group decided they would enforce a sneeze police, causing further ugly scenes.

  Sean took over Jarod’s duties when the big man was quarantined. His wife, Demi, dragging him from the workshop when he refused to leave.

  Logan kept busy by engaging with every part of the mine. Pitching in where there was a gap and offering encouragement. Otherwise, he concentrated on his absolute failure to keep his wife and friends safe in the mine.

  The quarantine seemed to be working, but Rich warned about incubation periods. His nurses and volunteers worked around the clock visiting people. Ortiz stationed four soldiers on rolling paramedic duty at the hospital.

  Four days after the medical lottery, Logan accompanied Sean to check on Jarod’s condition. There had been a complaint from Rich about Jarod after his last visit.

  A sour smell attacked his nose and mouth when he opened the cabin door. It was dark inside and Sean clicked on a torch. Jarod sat wiping a dry towel mechanically across Demi’s head.

  “Fuck,” breathed Sean.

  Logan moved forward and placed a hand on Jarod’s shoulder. He gently took the cloth from his friends’ hand. Jarod crumpled to the floor and lay unmoving.

  “Find Rich,” Logan whispered to Sean.

  He turned to leave then remembered his torch, balancing it on a table. Logan glanced between Jarod and Demi. There were no words he could use. He couldn’t think of a thing to do apart from to close the dead woman’s eyes.

  Jarod groaned and groped for her hand. Logan reached down with a bottle of water and pushed it against Jarod’s lips. He took a swig then batted it out of Logan’s hands.

  “I don’t want fucking water,” he shouted.

  “Hang in there,” Logan said. He flushed at the emptiness of his words.

  The outer door banged and Sean swore at someone. The cabin door opened and two men appeared, carrying a stretcher.

  Jarod roared at them and lurched to his feet. Logan grabbed an arm, Sean raced in to grab the other. Jarod bucked and kicked but his strength was gone. He sank to his knees with an anguished cry that turned to a gentle sob.

  Rich pushed his way into the room and injected Jarod with a sedative. He tried to fight the effects but rolled backwards like a felled tree and lay still. There were tears in Sean’s eyes, his mouth turned down as he shook his head.

  “Take care of him,” Logan whispered. “Move his things into my old pod.”

  Jarod wouldn’t be the same man again after losing Demi. They had no children and doted on each other with more affection than any other couple he knew.

  “How’s Cate?” Sean asked, his voice cracking.

  #

  Cate was asleep when he returned to the cabin. Face flushed and body limp. Used tissues dotted the wooden floor like feathers. There were too many variables involved for him to reason out the virus. He was good with tangible problems of an electrical and mechanical nature. But Rich had been right. He shouldn’t interfere on medical matters. One sincere decision can adversely affect the lives of so many.

  “How’s Mom?”

  Logan looked up to see Adam in the doorway. Gregor peeked through a gap behind him.

  “She’s getting better. Look, your gramps want to look after you while Moms ill.”

  They followed him from the cabin and along the tunnel to Cates parent’s block. He dropped them off with two rucksacks of clothes and packets of cookies. Their cries to return with him echoed in Logan’s head, like a song he couldn’t shake.

  Their dream of a safe haven was dying. Logan’s own spirit was cracked, battered and chewed. He stared at the swirls of dust in his cabins window light, a reminder of the germs floating around their mine. There was no escape for anyone. The lights held back darkness but eventually they would wink out. The mine would consume them all in time. A voice in his head shouted to go back to the surface and find help. Feel the wind on their faces, rain, sunshine, fresh air and miles of open sky

  Shaking off the feelings, he walked inside the cabin to find Cate asleep in bed. He wiped her brow and she opened her eyes.

  “Turn the light off,” she said.

  He obeyed, returning and pulling off her sheet. “You have to stay cool.”

  She pulled weakly on the sheet then laid back, breath rasping.

  Logan gave her antibiotics to swallow then smeared vapor rub on her exposed chest. She dozed for a time and then asked for the toilet. He carried her outside, her body as light as a child. Back in bed, she shivered and complained of cold, reaching again for the blanket.

  “No, that's what the virus wants. Fight it.”

  He kissed her hot salty head, wiping her with a towel as she lay wheezing.

  “Stay with me,” she said.

  “I’m here.”

  There was nothing more he could do other than wipe and keep her cool, while her body burned energy fighting the virus. She fell back to sleep and he slowly released her hand.

  He straightened the covers and wandered to the kitchen. Rifling through cupboards until he found a tin of ham with a ring pull opener. The greasy coated meat slipped into his mouth in chunks, barely chewing it before swallowing. He made a cup of tea then returned to the bedroom. Cate was awake, staring up at the ceiling.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She reached for his hand. “If you could see what I can see. You’re ball of light. A brilliant ball of light.”

  “Go to sleep, save your strength.”

  She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep again. Logan wiped her down, feeling the need to be close to her. He lay on the bed, lifting her head, so she could rest it on his shoulder.

  He woke hours later, arm sore from the maintained position. Easing Cate from his shoulder, she fell motionless onto the mattress. There was no ragged breathing or movement of any kind.

  He swallowed hard and blinked away a tear.

  Reaching out with a shaking hand, he pushed Cate onto her back. Her eyes were closed and seemed relaxed. He searched for a sign of life. Thumb on her wrist, neck and behind her ear. He listened to her chest and opened her eyes. Each check told him the same thing over and over again.

  Cate was dead.

  Chapter 15

  In a shadowy bedroom, Avery stirred and stretched. Cotton sheets hissed against naked skin as she arched her back. Dimly aware her
shorts and vest were gone, she curled up to search for sleep.

  Naked again.

  Her eyes opened.

  She pushed back the covers and a chill air raced over her bare skin. The clock display by her bed read zero five hundred. The time echoing in her mind and she whispered it aloud.

  Padding to the kitchen to make coffee, she stretched her neck and rolled her shoulders. Tonguing her dry mouth and blinking to focus on her surroundings. She switched on the machine and yawned.

  Like an icy water bucket over the head, she suddenly remembered.

  Images and sounds forced themselves into her mind. She squeezed her eyes closed as sharp pains stabbed at her temples. Memories of the bunker, Cain, Ringo, Kaya and Matos. A torrent of information that overloaded her consciousness. Cupping her ears and screaming until there were only two spots of blazing light.

  She gasped and flopped to the ground, her back sliding down a kitchen cupboard. Shaking her head, heart bouncing in her chest, she forced her eyes open and tried to bring the room back into focus. She sagged on the floor with her head resting against a cupboard door, breathing loudly in and out.

  The memories popped like bubbles as she relaxed, disappearing back where they belonged into her sub conscious. Crawling to the sofa and climbing onto the soft cream chair, she reached for her flexi. The date and time appeared in bold white figures.

  Four months had passed since the combat drill.

  The screen dropped from her hand and landed gently beside her. There was no other explanation, she was going insane. This was the end of her career and the beginning of a new life. A life on the outside, filled with tests, therapy, drugs and ridicule.

  The aroma of coffee anchored her back to the world. She followed the scent like an invisible trail. Below the machines nozzle, an espresso cup sat steaming. Before picking it up, she made a fist and squeezed to regain some control.

  Coffee. The cure for all good nights and bad mornings. The bitter black brew gently scalded her throat as she swallowed. Her stomach growled in thanks then added another growl for food.

  Nano injections and the neuro lab floated up to her consciousness. The injection she received on her test. Cain’s NDCC. The strange behavior in the bunker and missing memory. It all added up to an experiment of some sort. Another test.

 

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