The Doomsday Infection

by Lamport, Martin

  He dabbed his neck with the brush, turned his head and saw another blemish, under his chin. He arranged the mirrors to focus on the unusual place to received a hickey, goddamn her. For Christ’s sake, he cursed and attacked the second blemish with the powered brush.

  CHAPTER 36

  18:07 PM

  The United States Navy is the largest fighting force in the world with over four hundred thousand men, nearly four thousand aircraft and over three hundred surface and under water vessels, seventy-five nuclear powered submarines and the world’s largest fleet of aircraft carriers. Right now the USS Thomas Jefferson was part of the Atlantic fleet guarding the east coast of Florida and was fighting an unseen enemy of devastating proportions.

  The aircraft carrier was like a small floating city, with up to six thousand personnel living aboard. They had access to all the mod cons of a land-based city, cinemas, bowling alleys, doctors and dentists, even a McDonald’s.

  It was in the doctor’s surgery, that seaman Gomez found himself, in sickbay fighting for his life. He had blood trickling from his ears, nose and most distressingly his eyes. Yet no amount of medication eased his pain. He thrashed his head from side to side in agony.

  The hazmat-suited doctor took a sharp breath aware of what Gomez was suffering from and was apprehensive of what it meant for the rest of the ships contingent, crammed together in their tight quarters breathing in the same air.

  The captain had already issued out the hazmat suits to himself and other high-ranking officers, but they did not have enough to go around, none for the lower ranks, and this caused much consternation, as the men became aware this virus meant certain death.

  There were rumblings in the ranks and it was a somber and menacing atmosphere aboard. The men with symptoms were reluctant to come forward as it meant isolation and inevitable death. A large number of men were missing at the last head count, and it was assumed that they had jumped overboard, either in a vain attempt to swim to shore and distance themselves from the noxious pestilence, others no doubt, preferring to drown, than to face the slow, agonizing death brought on through contracting the Black Death. The doctor sighed knowing attempting to escape was futile, as the sailors were already infected. A virus as virulent as this had already passed from man-to-man, as they lived in such cramped quarters.

  The doctor was morbidly fascinated to watch the effects of the plague taking hold of Gomez. He’d been sent details of what to expect if they came across a victim, which he’d had a cursory glance at, but to be an eye-witness to this ancient disease up close and personnel was truly fascinating, just as a grimly detached individual might glance at a auto wreak.

  He noted the bleeding from the orifices, they had had to put Gomez in an adult diaper early, as thick, black blood oozed from his rectum, and he was now into the secondary stages of bleeding from his facial orifices. He had the telltale swelling of the lymph glands, his body covered with the dark rings of pus-filled buboes, and his skin had darkened even further. By all accounts, Gomez had succumbed in less than three hours. Captain Phillips had accompanied Gomez on the USB to find their fallen comrades, but he had worn his helmet at all times, as had the lieutenant. Neither man saw him remove his helmet, but it was plainly obvious that he had done, the evidence lay dying in front of him. The doctor sighed feeling helpless in his inability to help Gomez or even ease his suffering. He would go and speak with the Captain, as they had to isolate the infected men ASAP. Even while he thought this, he recognized the fact that it was probably too late for this ship’s complement of six thousand.

  18:08 PM

  On the bridge high up in the conning tower, an impromptu meeting convened with the high-ranking officers, who looked truly bizarre in their hazmat suits. Feelings ran high, as two opposing factions were battling it out for the best way forward. Captain Phillips was all in favor of dumping the plague-carriers overboard at the first sign of the infection, while his second-in-command, Commander Roscoe opposed this, declaring that the humane decision would be to try to save every soul onboard. The doctor sided with the commander in his wish to save the men, aware of how outrageous it was to have such a conversation about disposing of potentially thousands of American naval personnel in such a brutal fashion and in such a casual, cavalier manner. The notion would have been not only abhorrent, but also unthinkable just a few days ago.

  “What does Washington say?” asked the doctor finally joined the affray.

  “I haven’t alerted Washington yet,” Captain Phillips answered. This caused more muttering around the room. “This is my ship, my problem, I’ve told you what I think, and ultimately my decision is final.”

  “I thought the instructions were quite clear, Captain,” ventured Commander Roscoe, “We were to notify Washington the first moment we detected the virus on board.”

  “What do you think Washington would do, hmm?” he said quickly with venom injected into his voice. “We’ve all seen first-hand what we do with the general public suffering from the plague, kill them all without question. Damnit, even we’ve been ordered to kill every living thing in southern Florida. Do you think I’m going to tell them that we’re a floating time bomb waiting to explode? No sir, not me, they would blow us out of the water. We would not have a moment to defend ourselves; they would instruct all the other vessels on the Atlantic seaboard to annihilate us. Is that what you want?”

  “Of course not, Captain. But I think your prediction is far-fetched.”

  “Oh, do you? Well, I’m reading each and every bulletin as they come in and I’m telling you that the future of Florida is bleak to say the least. They are butchering all the humans they can find, why do you think we would suddenly be singled out for preferential treatment?”

  The Commander could not think of an answer but looked uneasy.

  “Exactly,” the captain sneered in contempt. “So, we’re going to do this my way and then tell Washington after we’ve contained the disease. Now, we’re going to search this ship from top to bottom with small groups of armed men. We’ll need to be armed, as this is not going to be popular with the men. They already resent us for having the protection of the hazmat suits, while they’re left exposed to the deadly contagion. But once they’ve had chance to absorb the facts I think they would prefer to have a ship clear of the plague carriers, doesn’t that make sense?” he asked rhetorically. “We shall sweep through the craft, and our speed and guile will see us victorious before there is any subverting resistance to our plan -”

  “Our?” the doctor asked indignantly.

  “OK - my plan.”

  “It’ll be a logistics nightmare, captain,” Commander Roscoe said. “How are we going to dispatch the victims without other crew members getting wise to the plan?”

  “No one said it would be easy, Commander. We’ll isolate the men with tasks and exercises to keep them busy and to stop the spread of rumors.”

  “Now,” he continued. “It’s up to the individual to come forward and tell us honestly if they think they have contracted the Black Death. They should come forward if they have any of the following ailments, aches, pains, headaches and other flu-like symptoms. How honest they are going to be knowing that in all probability they have caught the plague and are going to be incarcerated until their painful death, is anybody’s guess. They’ve no doubt heard about Gomez so they know the disease is on board and that they may be contaminated as we speak.”

  “Is there anything we can do to contain the spread?” asked the Commander reasonably. “Containment must be the sensible way forward.”

  The captain fumed. “Do you think that I would not have done my research? Do you think that I’m that much of an idiot? Let me tell you, an infected carrier can sneeze the tiny droplets twenty feet easily, can you imagine how quickly that would spread around this ship? It’s my thinking that it already has. Worst scenario is that all the men not wearing these suits will be dead or dying within the next twenty-four hours, Am I right, doctor?”

  As much as h
e loathed the captain and his vile plan, he could not fault his thinking and nodded his assent. “Thank you. So, as you can see, we will be lucky to have enough crew to man this vessel back into a non infected port, and -”

  “You cannot take this ship into port that would be disastrous!” exploded the Commander. “We must stay away from populated areas. It would be utter madness!”

  “You will not speak to me in such a manner or I’ll have you charged for insubordination!” The captain’s face flared red and angry. “I’m the Captain and you will follow my orders. You’re dismissed, Commander, confine yourself to quarters.”

  “But -”

  “I said dismissed!”

  The commander turned and shuffled from the bridge. He was devastated, not for himself and the public humiliation that he had endured, but for the safety of the men on the ship and the public at large. If they were to dock in a safe port and if just one man had a microscopic amount of the contagion upon him then there would be another outbreak. No, the captain’s plan appeared absurd, he thought. He clambered down the metal stairway with difficulty as his bright orange hazmat suit filled the gap. He sweltered inside the suit, but understood that it was his only protection from the infectious crewmen. He passed some seamen who glowered at him and half-saluted him. He felt their hatred and ill-disguised contempt.

  18:11 PM

  On the bridge, the captain’s mood hadn’t changed. “Does anyone else want to countermand my orders?” He looked around his fellow officers, weaklings to a man, he thought. He despised every one of them. None were career sailors, all having gone to university, paid for by the navy, living the life of luxury. The taxpayers financing their higher education, while they learned a trade that would set them up for life back on Civilian Street, doing the minimum time allowable then off to rake in the dough.

  He shook his head in disgust. Was he the only one who could see what the useless layabouts had planned? The flyboys were even worse. They cruised through college, got to tear around the skies in the high-powered jets, and had the pick of the females at any port they visited - the pilots being the elite prize for the girls ever since that stupid film, ‘Top Gun’. No, the lazy pilots would do the barest minimum to keep up their flying hours, while performing the least amount of service to their country in return for their top class education, and then stroll into a plumb job with any major airline, who were always desperate for the navy-trained flyers for their lucrative pilot jobs. It made him sick, he looked around the room and could not see one officer who had ever seen any action and in all probability had signed-on, not expecting to. They too wanting the free board and lodgings, three square meals a day, that the navy offered, then they too would walk into high paying jobs back in civilian life, as corporations loved having high-ranking navy boys on their staff.

  He abhorred the men who’d faint at the first sign of any real trouble, who preferred to be behind the scenes on the aircraft carrier, instead of being in the thick of the battle like he had. The atrocities he had witnessed first-hand, the awful inhumanity man could inflict upon fellow man had left him doubting even God. If any of them had seen the cruelty he’d witnessed, it made his proposal look like a walk in the park.

  He saw that all eyes were upon him, awaiting his next order. “Doctor, some help here, if a man is not going to willingly volunteer that he has the plague, what visible signs should we be looking out for?”

  “Well, obviously the sub epidermal hemorrhaging -”

  “In English, doctor,” cut in the captain.

  “The darkening of the skin. It starts in the extremities, so you may be able to detect darkening of the finger-tips, possibly the end of the nose, and the tips of the ears.”

  “Good, good, anything else?”

  “Sneezing, of course.”

  “Yes, yes, anyone that is seen sneezing will be detained and put in isolation, anything else?”

  “Swelling of the glands particularly the neck and under the arms. Anyone seen scratching or agitated by these areas of their bodies ought to be suspected of incubating the plague.”

  “Good, there’s a list to be getting on with, gentlemen, go to it, let’s clear this old tub of the virus and if that means destroying the host, so be it. I’m the one issuing this order, so any fallout will come down on my shoulders. But you’ve heard the doctor, we will not have enough men to sail this boat to safety within the day. So let's get rid of the chaff and get this tub back on course, back to a ship-shape fighting machine. And if you need any more motivation, your reward will be your own survival, dismissed.”

  18:14 PM

  Commander Roscoe entered his meager quarters wearily. He pondered on the captain’s orders; the indiscriminate killing of fellow crewmen was unthinkable. They should quarantine the men, sure, that would be prudent, and it would be nigh on impossible to man the ship with so few able-bodied seamen left to help, but they would manage, they could call upon Washington to bring in re-enforcements.

  Of course, he’d heard the rumors of what the captain had done earlier that day when they went ashore to find the missing crew; apparently he’d ordered the murder of a crewman that was still alive - not the behavior of an officer and a gentleman, and not the sort of man he wanted to command him. He dwelt on his best course of action. He felt anguish in the pit of his stomach and realized there was only one thing he could do, and that his actions would put him in danger like never before. It was only his good conscience, and for the men and the safety of the country that he loved and had sworn to protect that he was even contemplating such a terrible plan. There was only one thing for it, he was going to have to relieve the captain of his duty. He was talking about mutiny . . .

  CHAPTER 37

  18:15 PM

  Sergeant Gruber choked on his cigarette at the startling sight of the furniture truck and spluttered; “Get after them.”

  The driver started he engine and gave chase. The Humvee lurched from the side street and was hot on the heels of the furniture truck, although the driver had to swerve around the objects of furniture ejected from the back.

  A bullet cracked Luke’s side-view mirror. “Shit.” He saw the army vehicle trying to pull alongside him. He swerved taking evasive action and the enormous furniture truck sent the smaller vehicle spinning off the road.

  He put his foot down, but knew deep down that they could never out run the faster Humvee, which zoomed up his inside. He lurched to the side, but this time the driver expected it and took the necessary action to avoid a collision and as Luke straightened the truck, the Humvee slipped through the gap and got ahead of them.

  “They are not wearing helmets,” Sophie gasped. Worried for the danger the soldiers were in. Luke stared at her incredulously, fearing she had lost her mind, fretting for the well-being of the men who were about to kill them.

  The Humvee got ahead of them and the machine-gunner slowly stood as if he had all the time in the world while he organized the roof-mounted machine gun and got ready to aim at them. Luke spotted a turning to their right going over a canal and yanked down hard on the steering wheel, but because of the furniture truck’s huge bulk, instead of taking the turn, it rose into the air as if it was about to topple over, “Argh!” Luke screamed out as the rear of the truck caught up with the front and the wheels on one side started to rise.

  The soldiers laughed as they saw the furniture trucks predicament, “What an ass-hole,” the driver laughed. “What a boner.” He watched awestruck as the beast finally overturned and screeched along the street amid a blast of sparks.

  Luke gasped, badly shaken as the truck ground to a halt. He quickly cleared his head, and he saw fuel pooled in front of the cab and spread over the street, knowing the smallest spark could ignite it. “Are you OK?” he asked Sophie.

  She nodded. “I’m OK,” she said and saw the army vehicle turning a circle up ahead. She released her seatbelt, climbed up the interior of the truck, and pushed up the heavy door. She crawled out onto the side of the truck and b
alanced on the wheel before dropping down onto the bridge. She noticed the pool of fuel, and recognized the danger; she promptly made her way to the back of the overturned truck hoping that it would give her some protection from the inevitable bullets. Luke emerged from the cab, and crouched down, rushing along the side of the truck as the Humvee completed the circle and now faced them. He did not hang around and leaped down from the back of the truck making Sophie jump.

  The machine-gunner saw the upturned truck laying in the intersection like some sort of dinosaur, smoke streaming from the engine compartment. He spotted Luke and Sophie hiding at the back of the truck. “This’ll be like shooting fish in a barrel.” The driver laughed and picked up speed, enjoying the first action they’d had in days, and headed toward them.

  Luke gulped, they were sitting ducks as the armored vehicle rushed at them. He took the pistol from the front of his pants but knew it would be hopeless. Even the machine-gunner on top had armor shielding around him. He could try for a head shot, but he was too far away and a moving target, but he lined up and aimed anyway.

  The machine-gunner saw Luke and chuckled. “What a boner.” He laughed and swung the heavy machine-gun around to face him. Steadied his balance and readied his aim.