“Hey there! Could you go ahead and load four of those bottles here in my cart? I’ll pay for it in the store. Thanks!”
Inside she grabbed another cart and filled it up with soups, canned vegetables, dried fruit, powdered milk and soup, and, why not, all the Little Debbie goodies that she usually kept out of the house. Quick energy can be good and these things have enough preservatives to last five years, she thought. Praying her credit card wasn’t over the limit, she made her way back to the front of the store picking up a couple of packages of diapers on the way. She met a wave of shoppers just entering; many with disheveled hair and appearing hastily dressed. The cashiers (there were only two on duty this early) watched open mouthed as people continued to stream into the store and begin frantically loading their carts. Just as she reached the checkout a man approached and tried to remove one of the bottles of water from her cart. Moving quickly, Virginia positioned herself in front of the cart and scowled, “Back off or I’m calling the police. There are plenty of bottles in the back of the store and more are still being delivered.” The man gave her an anguished uncertain look but stepped away. She made it back to her car without further incident.
The streets were still in good shape until she reached the corner of Stuyvesant and Meeting; she found the road completely blocked by an overturned jeep and a delivery truck. She made a u-turn, backtracked to Loblolly Point where she cut through the subdivision, and went home past the golf course.
Arriving home, she pulled the car into the garage and lowered the door. She left some of the ready to eat food in the car and unloaded everything else. What looked like so much food in the store didn‘t even completely fill her cabinet shelves and she wished she had gotten more. She called her mother but got the “all circuits are busy” message. It was snowing even harder and the clouds still looked heavy and dark. Hoping to find information on road closings, she tuned to the local news on Channel 6 and saw a female reporter broadcasting from the entrance of a hospital emergency room, showing a chaotic and noisy crowd of people waiting in a ragged line.
“… virus since yesterday. Authorities are asking that you, please, stay away from area hospitals unless you have absolutely no other option. All health care facilities, including doctor’s offices, are completely overwhelmed with wait times beyond calculation at this point. As we reported earlier, there is a winter weather advisory posted for Wells and surrounding counties with predicted snowfall amounts of up to 6 inches in our area with more for higher elevations. This will exacerbate an already…”
So the snow was not going to end today. Virginia channeled to the local NBC affiliate where they were replaying an interview recorded earlier. A male reporter started the segment.
“We obtained a brief interview with Dr. Patrick Sandys, head of infectious disease here at East Beaumont Hospital. According to Dr. Sandys, Monday morning, members of Meeting Street Baptist Church, which has a mission outreach in Haiti, returned home bringing with them five orphans whose parents were killed in the earthquake. The children fell ill shortly after they arrived.”
Dr Sandys: “The children were brought in Monday evening. All had been vomiting for several hours and presented with subnormal temperatures as well. We set about getting the vomiting under control as they also showed signs of dehydration. All our efforts failed and the children lapsed into coma as their temperatures continued to fall. They were declared dead Tuesday morning at 4:10 a.m. We’d never before seen a pathogen that acted so quickly.”
Reporter: “But that was not the end of the story. According to hospital spokesperson Martin Dean, the bodies of the children were taken to the hospital morgue, awaiting autopsy. At approximately 5:15 a.m., morgue attendants heard loud banging noises. Upon investigation, they found the “dead” children, not only mobile but making every effort to force their way out of the room. When the morgue attendants, along with an ER nurse, entered the room, they were attacked and bitten several times before they were able to restrain the children. The attendants and nurse received treatment for their wounds and went home after their shift was over. Later efforts made to find those employees and bring them in for observation, failed. As far as we know, they have still not been brought in, in part because of the enormous strain at present on police, fire, and social services.”
Dr. Sandys: We want everyone out there to be aware of the symptoms of this virus and to watch for them in their families and neighbors. Signs include copious vomiting of thick black bile along with subnormal temperatures. There may be other symptoms of which we are currently unaware. Isolation of the patient is extremely important as the disease is highly contagious. Please check media reports throughout the day as the CDC will issue updates and warnings as they gain more information about the virus.”
Reporter: “We will be breaking in live with updates as they become available. Jim Wold Action 8 News, reporting.”
She muted the TV. The morgue at the hospital. Hadn’t her client Carson told her his cousin worked at the hospital? Could he have been one of the morgue attendants? What if the story Carson told her was true? She placed a call to the jail but got a busy signal.
Virginia tried to call her in-laws again but couldn’t get through on the landline or the cell. She remembered September of 2001 when all lines were jammed just from the sheer volume of people trying to call loved ones and make sure they were alright. Her stomach twisted with worry and fear. Dan and Carolyn would lay down their lives for their grandchildren but she had to know they were safe. She needed them with her. She tried again to call Ian but had no luck with that either.
She looked outside. The snow was piling up in drifts across the lawns. The Eberhardts from two doors down were in their driveway, loading suitcases and boxes into their Denali. Their youngest daughter came out the front door, holding the cat in a carrier. They looked like a typical family packing up to go on vacation until Keith emerged with a rifle in each hand. She found her jacket and ran down the street.
“Are you guys leaving town” She had to shout over the blustering wind.
“Yeah. We’re trying to get on the road before this weather gets any worse.”
“Do you know if 531 is open?”
Keith finished loading a cardboard box. “Don’t know about 531. We’re going in the other direction to stay at Diane’s folks ‘til this virus thing blows over. Did you see the news? We‘ve already got cases here in Wells.”
“I saw it. Be careful out there.”
“Will do. Be careful here too.”
She headed over to Portia and Bill’s. The snow was now so deep she couldn’t see where the curb ended and she stumbled off into the street, lost her balance and almost fell. Walking more cautiously she passed under the wisteria arbor that framed their front door and rang the doorbell.
“Virginia? Get in here, your head is covered with snow,” Portia said as she opened the door.
She took off her shoes before walking into the living room where Bill had a fire roaring in the fireplace. The TV was on and tuned to CNN.
“Have you guys heard anything new? What’s happening?”
Bill answered, never looking away from the screen. “They torpedoed a cruise ship close to Charleston Harbor.”
Portia gasped, “Were there people on board?”
“They didn’t say. Just that it was done to ‘minimize the risk of further spread of the virus.’ I’ll bet there were people on board if that’s the case. They also said all their local affiliates from Miami have gone down. CBS said the governor called in the National Guard and the city will probably wind up under martial law since they’ve already got some looting going on. We still haven’t been able to reach Jen.”
Jen was their daughter who lived in Port Saint Lucie, just above Miami.
Virginia looked around the comfortable room. Artwork from local artists decorated the walls and side tables held silver framed pictures of smiling children and grandchildren. Bill opened a manila envelope and arranged the contents in stacks on the cof
fee table. The documents looked older, like they came from a typewriter. He put on his reading glasses and shuffled through the papers.
“I dug out some of my old journals I kept when I traveled for TI back in the 70’s. I spent a few months in the Caribbean and explored a little in my down time. Met a lot of really sharp people. One of the professors at the Pontifica Universidad Catolica had some incredible documents dealing with what Columbus found on his second voyage to the region-“
“Second voyage? I thought he came here once in 1492.”
“What are they teaching in schools nowadays? Columbus sailed here four times. The second voyage in September 1493 was destined for Hispaniola where he’d left a group of 39 men manning a fort built from the timbers of the wrecked Santa Maria. Hispaniola, of course, later became Haiti. When Columbus arrived in November; only a few of the men were still alive. It’s believed they were attacked by a tribe from farther south that periodically raided and terrorized the locals.”
“The first ‘pirates of the Caribbean’ but without the eyeliner?”
“Maybe no eyeliner but probably body paint. They were called the “Carib.” Our word “cannibal” is a somewhat scrambled version of the name. A friar who stayed with the men at the fort left a written account of the time he spent on the island. Dr. Pinochet was kind enough to allow me to copy the documents in the University archives and these (he spread the documents on the table) are my translations. I‘ve researched and added some of my own findings over the years. My goal was always to write it all up and publish someday. Some of it is unbelievable but I think-” Portia interrupted. “Bill thinks some of the friar’s experiences might shed some light on what is going on down there and maybe here too, now. The documents mention a disease that infected one of the tribes at the time. Not to change the subject Virginia, but have you heard anything from Ian since this started?”
Deliberately not mentioning the emails and her fears she said, “Not exactly, no. I’ve tried to reach him but the phones are messed up. I’m guessing that all planes will be grounded soon if they haven’t already so it may be a while before he can make it back to Wells. Why?”
Bill said, “Well, knowing what he does for a living, I thought he might be interested in seeing these documents. The authorities are short on information about this virus. There might be something here they can use. Could you get these to Ian?”
Virginia hesitated. How many times had Ian told her about the hundreds of “leads” phoned or mailed in every day by well meaning citizens convinced their neighbors or the IT guy at work were terrorists? Homeland Security didn’t have enough agents to investigate all of those calls although they didn’t let that information out. Would they have the inclination or time in the midst of a global pandemic to evaluate information from late 15th century documents sent to them by a small town college professor? She looked at their earnest, kind faces and knew she would try.
“Of course. I’ll scan the documents and email them today.” They looked relieved.
Virginia asked, “Do you have enough food? I made it to the grocery store just before the run they had this morning. I bought plenty of canned stuff and I can share.”
Portia said, “We’re fine. Both pantries are full. Bill took the jeep out for gas and went to the drugstore for a few extra things before the snow got bad. At the gas station he got into a little scuffle with another customer who told him he could only get five gallons at a time. She was furious. The clerk said there was no rationing that he had heard of. We’ve already filled the bathtubs with water in case it shuts down for a little while.”
“I didn’t think of that. I’ll fill mine too. I came over to tell you that I’m leaving today to go get Anna and Greg. Ian’s parents came over and picked them up to spend a few days with them before all this started. I can’t reach them on the phone. You already have a key to the house if you need anything. I should be back late tomorrow.”
Bill turned and looked out through the French windows leading to the patio in back. Snow covered the ground and the tree branches with a sparkling crust of white. She saw the gauze bandage on his cheek from the gas station incident. He looked at her.
“Virginia, I don’t think you’ll make it. They closed 531 up at Chapel Croft; it’s impassible. Your car would have a tough time even getting up there in this. We can loan you the jeep but that road is the only one that will get you over to Springfield.”
“Did they say when it would reopen?”
“This storm should leave us with a foot or more of snow but it isn’t going to warm up enough to melt things for a few days. We’ll have to wait and see.”
Turning away so they couldn’t see her tears of anger and frustration she said goodbye and stepped out into the storm. What the hell happened to global warming? Wasn’t this supposed to be the south?
She carefully crossed the street through the icy swirling flakes holding the manila envelope containing Bill’s documents under her coat. The wind shrieked in her ears- or was that sirens? She almost made it to the front door when a hand came down heavily on her shoulder.
Chapter 6
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
and then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot;
and thereby hangs a tale
-William Shakespeare
She turned and kicked out wildly at the parka shrouded figure, but her foot met only vinyl and down and, losing her balance, she fell backwards into the snow. He laughed, an ugly, snorting laughter and she recognized him. It was her neighbor, Larry.
“Whatcha kicking me for? I come over here to see if you need anything and you try to kick me? That’s not neighborly.” She could smell alcohol fumes coming off him as he spoke. “Do you need anything?” He leaned in closer and leered at her as she struggled to get back up. “I’ll bet you need something, don’t you? I haven’t seen that husband of yours around in a while. You might need someone to look out for you.”
She made it to her feet. She was afraid but determined to hide it. He had always seemed annoying to her but now she saw a creepy side. Maybe it was the alcohol.
Keeping her voice calm she said. “I didn’t know it was you Larry. You frightened me and I just reacted. I’m cold and I need to get inside. You probably should too.”
His expression faltered for a second, then he sneered at her, shook his head, and walked away. Virginia watched him for a moment to be sure he kept going then opened her door (oh great, she had forgotten to lock it) and slipped inside, this time locking the deadbolt, the knob, and sliding the chain. It was time to stop being so careless.
Scanning the documents then emailing them to Ian only took a few minutes. She wondered if he would even get them, let alone persuade someone higher up to look at them. She wanted to sit down and read them but she had something more important to do first.
It took some time to find the guns. She had never taken any interest in them before today. She remembered seeing a handgun as well as a shotgun or rifle when they packed to move into this house three years ago. She tried the locked drawer in the desk first. Birth certificates and documents for both of their life insurance policies but no gun. She found a metal crate in the back of the bedroom closet, full of ammunition. Good. It was heavy though. She dragged it into the family room in front of the TV only belatedly noticing it left a long trail of dark grease marking the antique Tabriz rug that had been a wedding gift from Ian’s grandmother. Well, crap. Leaving it there she went upstairs and, unfolding the stairs from the trapdoor, ventured into the attic where she found a set of Encyclopedia Britannica from 1985, the rollaway bed, a broken sled, a rocking chair with no seat, and, oh good, a KA-BAR knife that belonged to her grandfather when he was in the Marines. It was to be Greg’s when he was old enough. It still would be, but it might come in handy now. It had a nice weight to it and felt good in her hand. She put it back in its leather sheath and backed down the ladder, folding it up into the ceiling. Still no guns.
Restless, she paced the house
, assessing the rooms and layout in a way that she never had before. Here on the first floor, most of the windows were at ground level and all the rooms flowed into one another. The windows were almost floor to ceiling, letting in lots of light throughout the day. French windows off the family room gave access to a flagstone terrace in the back. As she had thought from the first day they found it, it was an inviting, happy place. It was also, she realized now, completely indefensible.
Her eyes fell on the crate of ammunition on the floor and she remembered something. When they first moved in, the area under the staircase was unfinished. They wound up getting a contractor to finish it for them but he left an unfinished area all the way in the back accessible by moving an unsecured panel. She went into the kitchen and got a flashlight. Opening the closet door, she turned on the light and got down on her knees, scooting to the back of the closet. Using both hands, she pressed hard against the back wall until she felt the panel give a little and she lifted it to one side. She shined the flashlight back into the aperture and there they were, one shotgun and a handgun. She pulled them out and found 6 boxes of bullets behind them. Carrying everything out of the closet, she took stock of her newfound arsenal with satisfaction.
1 shotgun
4 150 boxes of shells
1 38 caliber handgun
6 boxes of rounds
She added the KA-BAR knife, a small first aid kit, a flashlight, and found the hand cranked emergency radio she had bought after 9/11. She then spent a couple of hours watching You Tube videos showing how to clean, load, and fire the weapons.
By nightfall both guns were cleaned and loaded. She still didn’t feel entirely comfortable with them and knew she was unlikely to hit any challenging targets. Both were under the bed and the knife under her pillow. She was on the phone trying once again to reach her in laws when the doorbell rang. Peering through the sidelight she saw Portia standing on the porch. She opened the door and pulled her inside, out of the cold.
The Living Dead (Book 1): Contagion Page 4