Pestilence: A Medical Thriller

by Victor Methos

  Howie changed into a polo shirt and Dockers shorts, then put on Italian leather shoes and no socks. He went to his dresser and chose his watch, opting for the silver Rolex his ex-wife had bought him for his thirtieth birthday.

  His ex-wife. Howie remembered that it was Friday and his one weekend a month to take his daughter, Jessica. He hadn’t seen her for two months. Her mother and her mother’s new husband, David, flew her around the world, took her on cruises, and kept her busy with private schools, cheerleading, and whatever else Jessica was into. David had two boys of his own, and they, from what Howie could tell, were as happy as could be.

  He checked his cell phone and saw a text from his ex. Where the hell are you????

  Replying that he would be right there, he headed to the fridge and got a bottle of cold water before dialing the girl he was supposed to see that night. He’d been dating Brandi off and on for over three months, which was a personal record since the divorce. It went to voice mail.

  “Hey, Brandi. Um, listen, can’t make it tonight. I’ve got my kid. I mean, my neighbor, Sandy, might be able to watch her, so I’ll see if I can dump her off, but if Sandy’s got plans, I’m kinda stuck. If you want to come over here and watch a movie or something, that’s fine.”

  He hung up and headed out the door.

  It was a forty-minute drive to Bel Air, and that was pushing it. Howie didn’t want to rush, but the traffic was actually light compared to how it had been on his way home. Maybe it was just because it was three in the afternoon on a Friday. He called in to his company, an advertising firm, and asked his secretary to clear his schedule for Monday and Tuesday. He was going to take Brandi to Mexico as soon as he dropped Jessica back off at her mother’s on Sunday.

  His phone rang, and it was Brandi.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey. So no show? Sarah’s one of my best friends, and this is her first gallery, Howie.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, but what do you want me to do? It’s my weekend, and her mom said she had something planned that she couldn’t get out of.”

  “This is disappointing. I’m very disappointed right now.”

  Howie thought she sounded like a four-year-old, and he wasn’t sure if he found it cute or stomach-churningly disgusting. “I’m gonna make it up to you. How ’bout we go down to Cabo on Sunday?”

  “Really? You can get out of work?”

  “I own the place. What’s the point of being the owner if you can’t play hooky sometimes?”

  “That sounds amazing. I’ve been itching to get out of the city. I have a shoot on Thursday, though.”

  “We’ll be back before then. Pack that little outfit I really like. The one with the garters.”

  “Oh, I got something new for you. If you’re a good boy.”

  He grinned. “Come over and watch a movie with us tonight.”

  “I can’t. I have to be there for Sarah. She would have a panic attack if I wasn’t.”

  “All right, fine,” he said sluggishly. “I’ll see you Sunday then.”

  “Okay, see you then.”

  The home in Bel Air was immaculate, and a gardener was tending to the rose bushes. Howie pressed on the horn rather than bothering to go to the door. No one came out at first, and he laid on it again. Eventually, the door opened, and his ex, Kaila, was there with ten-year-old Jessica. Kaila kissed her, said something to her, and then shut the door as Jessica walked across the lawn and got into the Jeep.

  She sat in the passenger seat and didn’t say anything.

  “Hi to you, too,” Howie said.

  “Hi.”

  Howie pulled away from the curb and thought to himself that this was going to be a long weekend.

  7

  Howie stayed up as late as he could with his daughter. He tried speaking to her several times, asking about school, but she replied with one-word answers. They simply had nothing in common anymore other than blood.

  Writing her off would have been easy. It should have been easy. But it wasn’t. As he sat on the couch next to her, he looked at her profile and saw himself. On an almost-biochemical level, it seemed, he wanted her approval, and her admiration. But he couldn’t have it, and that ate him up inside. He thought that maybe being a parent was just a means of punishment for the things you did to your parents and that he somehow deserved this for not being a good enough son.

  “I’m gonna hit the sack,” he said at around ten o’clock.

  “Sure,” she said, not taking her eyes off the television.

  As he was heading upstairs, he heard her take out her cell phone and call someone. She spoke a few words softly that Howie couldn’t hear, but he did make out two sentences.

  “I don’t like it here. I want to come home.”

  The words stung Howie more than he would’ve thought they would. He stood looking at her, and he pictured the young toddler that would run up to him, throw her arms around his neck, and kiss him hard. She would wrap her legs around his chest, and he would pick her up and pretend that she was falling. Then she would laugh her sweet laugh. Those times seemed like someone else’s life.

  He went upstairs and lay down in the dark after opening his balcony doors. A breeze was coming through, and he heard the ocean outside. A slit of moon hung in the black sky. He picked up his phone and texted Brandi.

  How is it?

  Everyone’s pretentious and hitting on me. How’s your daughter?

  She hates me. I’ll take the pretention any day.

  Why don’t you bring her down here?

  Maybe another time.

  Suit yourself. Can’t wait for our trip. Bought something new ;)

  That’s—

  Howie’s phone suddenly stopped working and he couldn’t send the text. He chalked it up to just one of those things that happens when technology is involved.

  He reread her last text and grinned to himself. Then he placed the phone on the nightstand before taking in a deep breath and trying to relax enough to drift off to sleep. His eyes darted open, and he got up, got dressed, and went downstairs.

  “Jessica, we’re going somewhere.”

  “Where?”

  “It’s an art showing. You’ll love it. Come on.”

  “Can’t I just stay here?”

  “No, come on, get on your shoes. Let’s go.”

  Once they were out the door, Howie chose the convertible, thinking Jessica might enjoy the warm night air. Instead, she folded her arms and ducked low so that it didn’t touch her.

  “How’s David?” he asked after several minutes of silence.

  “Good.”

  “He treat you guys well?”

  “Yeah. He takes us everywhere.”

  “Like where?”

  “To the movies and to Angels games, surfing.”

  “He seems like a good guy.”

  “He is.”

  They arrived at the gallery on the edge of Malibu next to the Pacific Coast Highway, and he couldn’t find parking, so they had to park at a restaurant. Walking back to the gallery, Howie tried to hold her hand to cross the street, but she didn’t take it. He had forgotten that she was old enough to cross the street on her own.

  The gallery was impressively decorated with garlands, and the dim lighting made nearly everyone appear more pleasing to the eye than they were. At least fifty people were perusing the artwork, the majority of which were photographs of things found on the street. At the entrance, a video of a subway car in New York was playing.

  “What are we doing here?” she asked.

  “I want you to meet someone.”

  Rounding a corner, Howie saw his girlfriend in the middle of a group of people wearing what appeared to be Chinese peasant clothing. They even had the communist hammer and sickle embroidered on their jackets. He walked up to her and waited until she noticed him.

  “Hey,” she said, smiling widely. She came over and kissed him on the cheek. “I thought you weren’t coming?”

  “Changed my mind. Thought i
t’d be best to get out of the house. This is Jessica.”

  Brandi smiled a wide, fake smile. “Hi. Your dad tells me you’re staying with him this weekend?”

  “Yup.”

  “Well, I’m glad you came down here. Do you like art, Jessica?”

  “Yeah. I’ll let you know when I see some.”

  Brandi’s face looked as though someone had pissed in her drink, and though he tried not to, Howie couldn’t help but grin.

  “So show us around,” he said.

  “Sure.” Brandi smiled, stepping between the two of them before taking Howie’s arm.

  For twenty minutes, they went from photograph to photograph to crappy painting and weird video. Howie tolerated it because of the simple fact that Brandi was a knockout, and it couldn’t hurt him later to score points. But Jessica was rolling her eyes and grunting as if she were so frustrated she might have a meltdown.

  At one point, they met the artist, a thin woman with a butch haircut and men’s glasses, and Jessica asked her if she had dropped her camera in New York and then decided to keep the pictures.

  After Brandi had shown them around, Howie could tell she wanted to mingle and introduce him to everybody, which he definitely was not in the mood for, so he said goodnight and forcefully took Jessica’s hand as they walked outside.

  “What’s the matter with you?” he said. “She’s a friend of mine.”

  “She’s an idiot.”

  “She was polite to you, and you responded with nothing but rudeness. Who’s the idiot?”

  Jessica glanced away, her face contorting in anger. “Why do you even have me come over? You don’t like it.”

  “Jessica,” he said, kneeling down, “I love having you over.”

  “No you don’t. I heard you talking to Mom once on the phone, and you told her there was no reason for me to come over.”

  He thought back and wondered if he’d really said it. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “Let’s just go.”

  When they got back to the house, she went straight to her bedroom that he kept for her and slammed the door. Howie felt as if he were living with her mother again, and it brought back bad memories.

  He got a beer and then went out to the hot tub, where he stripped down to his boxers and got in. Leaning his head back against the side, he gazed at the stars and wondered if anybody was staring back at him.

  He thought to the early years, the time when he and Kaila were dirt poor and happy. They were living in a studio apartment where the heater wouldn’t turn off during the summers, so they had to soak towels in cold water and use them as blankets. The walls were so thin that he heard every one of his neighbors use the bathroom, burp, and even the crunch of their breakfast cereal when the TV wasn’t on.

  But he and Kaila had dreams. At night, they would lie awake and talk about all the things they would do once they made it. If they hung on until Howie graduated and got that first job, they would make it.

  Eventually, they made it, but somewhere along the way, they lost each other. The divorce wasn’t messy. Howie gave her everything she wanted. He didn’t fight for custody, and he even sold his Porsche that he loved and gave the money to her. He wanted out and was willing to pay any price.

  He wondered if he’d made a mistake. Maybe he should have brought Jessica to live with him? Her mother shipped her off to boarding school while she and David went off on vacations. She had two stepbrothers, but from what Kaila had told him, they were happy, but didn’t really pay attention to Jessica. She was also hyper-intelligent and was in the gifted program at her school, which didn’t help her win any friends. She was, as far as Howie could tell, almost entirely alone.

  “Hey.”

  He looked over to see Sandy on the balcony next door. “Hey.”

  “I don’t see you out here that much, drinking. Something happen?”

  “That obvious, huh?”

  She went inside and a moment later was out on the beach in front of his balcony. She climbed the steps and sat on the edge of the hot tub, a glass of wine in her hand. “Anything you want to talk about?”

  “My daughter hates me. Same old.”

  “She doesn’t hate you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve talked to her. It’s a defense mechanism. She thinks you don’t care about her, and her defense is to convince herself she doesn’t need you.”

  “I think she doesn’t need me.”

  “Please. You’re Daddy. Fathers are larger than life to their daughters.”

  He exhaled and took a sip of his beer. “What did you do tonight?”

  “Just watched movies by myself. I was hoping you were home and we could watch one together.”

  “Now, what the hell is a girl like you doing home alone on a Friday night?”

  She shrugged and placed her wine glass down. “Sitting in the hot tub with you.”

  Sandy slipped off the clothing she was wearing and stepped into the hot tub, then slid over to Howie. They kissed as some teenagers lit a bonfire farther down the beach.

  8

  General Kirk Lancaster walked down the Hall of Heroes at the Pentagon and stopped a moment to look out the windows. At five in the morning, he’d already been up for an hour. He couldn’t sleep, and he’d thought about taking an Ambien but had heard they can cause psychotic episodes, so instead, he tried warm milk and chamber music. It didn’t work.

  He walked down to a large office, where he sat behind the desk and immediately spun the chair around to look out the windows at the hedges and the lawn. He didn’t feel like staring at walls.

  But the grass gave him an uneasy feeling, too. He had been at that desk on September 11th. He remembered running out of the building and seeing charred remains all over the lawn. He’d thought the entire country was under attack, and his first thought had been that Bin Laden was responsible. He had warned the CIA and the FBI for as long as he could remember, but no one took the threats as seriously as they should have. After all, so many people hated the United States that it was difficult to tell who would actually act.

  “Sir.”

  Lancaster turned around and saw his assistant, Major Martin Boyle, salute.

  “At ease. We’re not on a battlefield, Marty.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said as he sat down across from him.

  “What is it?”

  “Sir?”

  “I assume you have something to say about this morning, so let’s just hear it.”

  He swallowed. “I couldn’t sleep last night.”

  “I couldn’t either.”

  “We’ve closed off the major highways leaving the state, and all the flights out were cancelled about a week ago. Per your orders, we didn’t cancel the flights going in.”

  “Good.”

  He hesitated. “I don’t want to do this, Kirk. This is wrong. There’re less than a hundred infected, and we know where they are. We could just quarantine them and—”

  “Have you seen someone infected with Agent X, Marty?”

  “No, sir. Just photos.”

  “I visited a military hospital up there, Loma Linda. They had a patient behind this huge transparent barrier. Like a bubble. And I went and pinned a Purple Heart to the bubble with tape. As I was looking in, he began to vomit. It wasn’t food, though, it was blood… and organs. The vomit wouldn’t stop, and it exploded out of him so violently, it looked like a grenade had gone off in there. And I saw his brains start coming out of his ears. The virus liquefies the organs, all of them, including the brain and skin. And all it would have taken for me to contract it is a single virus. Just one. If that barrier hadn’t been there, he would have infected a dozen people, who would each infect a dozen more.”

  “But what we’re doing to our own citizens, it’s never been done before.”

  “You kiddin’ me? Lincoln had Confederates arrested and held for years without ever seeing the inside of a courtroom. Korematsu v. United States was the case that decided that Japane
se internment was justified. And guess what? It’s still good law. It hasn’t been overturned. In times of crisis, people always give up their freedoms, and they’re happy to do it.”

  “This is different. This isn’t targeting a group. This is indiscriminate. And we can’t maintain order, General. We’re talking about forty million people. We can’t even scratch the surface.”

  “Use local law enforcement to help you. But, Marty, we’re not letting this thing out. Not at any cost. We’re talking about the end of our nation if this thing spreads. No more America. And if the U.S. falls, you bet your ass the rest of the world is going down with us. We have to do this.”

  “And you’ve cleared it with the Joint Chiefs and the president? The Justice Department?”

  “Who do you think came up with the idea, Marty?”

  They sat in silence a moment before Marty said, “Once we do this, there’s no going back.”

  “I know.” Lancaster paused. “Do it, Marty. Send the order now.”

  He rose. “Yes, sir.” He took the emblems over his heart off his uniform and placed them on the desk. “It will be the last thing I do as Major under you, sir. I’m here voluntarily, and I quit.”

  Lancaster watched him walk out, and he leaned back in the chair. Marty was young and idealistic—two traits he himself might have had at some point. But if he ever did, they were so long gone that he didn’t even remember them anymore. He cared only about pragmatic decisions and didn’t understand those who took any other view.

  He turned back to the window and stared at the lawn.

  9

  Samantha sat in her office around ten at night, scanning the news sites for any information about California, but she found nothing. She checked Facebook and Twitter and found only one relevant post under the hashtag #UFOSRREAL. A person was saying that she had seen a lot of activity at the military base near her house. They seemed to be preparing for war.

  Sam stood and rolled her neck, then raised her arms over her head to stretch her shoulders. She walked to the window looking out over the parking lot and didn’t see anyone out. Pacing her office, she bit her thumbnail.