Contagious

by Druga, Jacqueline

  Calvin groaned. “This is insane and immature.”

  Then the doors to the van opened.

  Ava felt like the ‘people under the stairs’ because a huge burst of sunlight blasted into the van, causing her immediately blindness.

  “You will exit the van and follow us in.” A voice called out. “As you pass us, you will be handed clothing. Each of you will go through a disinfectant room, prior to entering the quarantine zone. You will submit to a blood test and then you will be fed.”

  Like a dog having to do tricks to get a treat, Ava and her family had to complete a hellish ritual before even getting a drop of water. They were treated as if they were criminals or had done something wrong. She wondered if it could get any worse. Little did she know, it had only just started.

  <><><><>

  Rayne opened his eyes to a world of hurt … literally. His face felt ten times bigger and a blinding pain radiated across where he was struck. . His nose was numb, but he was afraid if he touched it, it would no longer be that way.

  He was on his back. Of that he was certain. Rayne began to assess the situation. Breathing through his nose was impossible, it was sluggish and thick. His hand reached out blindly and he felt carpet. He was on the floor. With a roll of his body, he brought himself to his knees. His hair dangled in his eyes and he tried to ‘flip’ it back.

  Mistake.

  The pain was horrendous and with a grunt and groan he grabbed his face.

  How long was he out? He didn’t know. He looked from left to right at the empty room. Directly before him were a set of closed double doors. He stumbled to a standing position and staggered to the doors. Grabbing the door knobs, he pulled.

  Nothing.

  He then tried to push. Again nothing.

  “I wouldn’t keep trying that.” the younger voice said. “It’s useless. They’re locked tight. I tried.”

  Slowly Rayne turned around. His eyes needed to focus, but even through his slightly blurred vision he saw JJ Wylde sitting in the corner of the large room.

  “What … what happened?” Rayne asked, walking to him.

  “Well …” JJ stood. “You wanted to be a hero. I wanted to get some good pictures of them shooting you, and they assumed I was helping you. Go figure.”

  “Did you get pictures?”

  “Did you get shot?”

  Rayne looked down. “Unless they hit my face, no.”

  “Oh, they hit your face all right. It’s screwed up,” JJ said.

  “I still don’t understand how you ended up in here.”

  “I told you, I followed to get pictures. And when they nailed you. I kinda felt bad and ran over. That’s when they nabbed us both and threw us in here.”

  “Where is here?” Rayne asked.

  “I guess a smaller ballroom.”

  “What about your body guard?”

  “Shep?” JJ asked.

  “Your bodyguard’s name is Shep?”

  “Yeah and I don’t know where he is. When they brought me down here, he stayed back.”

  “Some body guard.”

  “Tell me about it. Hey, if we survive this thing, I’m gonna hire you.”

  “I’ll think about it. I have a good career right now,” Rayne said. “But … is there any water?”

  JJ shook his head. “None. I’m dying of thirst.”

  “Yeah. How long have I been out?”

  “Over an hour.”

  “Man.” Rayne tossed his head back and when he did, he felt it.

  “You ok?” JJ asked.

  “Yeah, I just …” Rayne’s sentence was interrupted with noise. A cross between a gag and his tongue hitting the back of his throat.

  “What the hell?” JJ asked. “Are you throwing up?”

  “It’s the …” Rayne choked on the word and made the sound again. “clot.”

  “What?”

  “The c …” Even making the sound gagged Rayne. He held up one hand, turned his head slightly, pushed and blocked one nostril then began to blow as hard as he could through the other side of his nose.

  “Dude, what are you doing?”

  It was there. Rayne could feel it. Lodged somewhere between his sinus cavity and his throat. He didn’t want it to slip into his mouth, so Rayne fought to bring that monster of a clot out his small nostril.

  It was like giving birth to the product of an injury.

  “Please stop.” JJ pleaded. “Quit…. Uh!” He shrieked.

  Finally, Rayne could feel the clot slip from his nostril. It dangled for a while, trying to stay inside and then finally, the force of blowing and gravity took over and the clot plopped to the floor. Rayne felt a sense of immediate relief.

  “Oh my God” JJ walked over. “Did that come from your head?”

  Rayne took a breath. “Yeah, I feel so much better.”

  “Dude, you sure that’s not a piece of your brain?”

  Both of them paused and stopped to take a closer look. JJ pulled out his phone and took a picture.

  Immediately, Rayne felt for his pockets. He wanted to text Ava, to see if she was free. “Where’s my phone?”

  “They took it.”

  “Why didn’t they take yours?”

  “Oh, they did,” JJ said. “The one from my right pocket. This one is my left pocket phone.”

  “How many do you have?”

  “Enough.” He fiddled with the phone. “No worries, I’ve been posting everything. Seven thousand people have chirped the picture of you unconscious.”

  “Great.”

  “It can’t hurt your wrestling career.”

  “You should be using that phone to get us out of here,” Rayne said.

  “Who am I gonna call, Dude?” JJ asked. “We’re under quarantine. That Semora Love has something that’s deadly and we aren’t getting out until either we’re dead or it runs its course. Until then we’re prisoners.”

  At first Rayne started to get angry about that. He wasn’t a prisoner...or was he? Thinking about it and the reasoning behind any incarcerated criminal, their detention made sense. They were in close contact with Semora Love. They had touched her. She was sick. And like it or not, because of that, they were without a doubt a threat to society. Like any threat, they had to be locked up.

  Rayne could argue his treatment, but he couldn’t argue his captivity.

  <><><><>

  Joel looked down to the dot of blood that formed in the bend of his arm. Why didn’t he get a band aid? They took his blood and didn’t even give him so much as a piece of cotton. His eyes lifted to the television in the small back office.

  A teenage girl was on the news. She sobbed uncontrollably. “I don’t know what I’ll do if he dies. Someone save JJ!”

  “And this young woman seems to encompass the sentiments of everyone right now.” the reporter stated. “We were able to obtain the footage JJ uploaded to his chirp account before it was removed. It was disturbing to say the least. Innocent men beaten, being held prisoners. Which leaves this reporter to the question...how bad is this virus if they are going to such extremes?”

  Joel squeezed the corners of his eyes. “I’m getting a headache. Where the hell is my Ben Gay?”

  He noticed Melissa and Katie backing up.

  “What?” he asked.

  ‘You have the virus.” Melissa said. “A headache is always the first sign. You have the virus.”

  “I don’t have the virus.” Joel argued. “Tell them Walter.”

  “He might,” Walter said. “I’d say not, though. More than likely he has a brain tumor with the amount of headaches he gets.”

  “Thank you,” Joe said. “I appreciate …”

  The office door opened and a man in a bio hazard suit stepped forward. “You folks can come out to the courtyard. I need to speak to the manager.”

  “That’s me,” Joe said walking to him. “Can you tell me where my employee Rayne is?”

  “He and the pop star are detained and will be released shortly. We asked you
to stay put while we initiated things.”

  “It’s eleven in the morning. This thing started six hours ago.” Joel argued.

  “We are on minimal staff.”

  “Yeah, well we’re on minimal patience,” Joel said. “You come in here, tuck us away, secure our guests and take over the hotel. Not a word or a peep as to why.”

  “I understand. But we’re set up now and hopefully we can work together. My name is Dr. Randall Howard. Any questions you have can be directed to me. We have redirected all outside lines. Simply pick up a phone it will ring to us.”

  “And where will you be that I’m calling you?”

  “Outside. Walk with me, Mister?”

  “Carson. Joel Carson.”

  “You’re in charge now.”

  Joel laughed. “Of what?”

  “The detainees and inside procedure. I need a ‘go to’ person and a person to take control, you’re it.”

  “Thanks.” Joel followed him. “I’d like to know what we’re dealing with.”

  “How many rooms are in this hotel?” Randall asked.

  “Suites.” Joe corrected. “Two hundred and fifty five. At capacity we hold over a thousand people.”

  “Right now thirty-six guests are here in quarantine. There are also twenty-four employees along with two hundred and twenty-two close contact victims and their families. I need you to get them into rooms. Close contact will be on the first floor. We are hopeful, but not optimistic that Semora Love stayed in this hotel. If that is the case, after one week this virus will work its way through. If she left the hotel, we will be bringing the infected in here. This will be an aid station.”

  “Whoa. Whoa. Wait.” Joel held up his hand. “So you are putting those who aren’t sick at risk. You need to take the infected to a hospital.”

  “Mr. Carson. Anyone at this hotel, or around a contact victim is at higher risk than someone sitting in General Hospital. If we take the ill there, we expose those who weren’t exposed at all. Understand?”

  “No, but do I have a choice?”

  “No.”

  Joel sighed out. “Aside from rooms, what else?”

  “FEMA will be delivering rations today. Water and food. Get a team to distribute. I don’t care how you do it, that’s for you to decide.”

  “And exactly what will the CDC or whatever you guys are, what will you be doing?”

  “I’m going to be honest and I hope you will let the pop star chirp this.”

  “You have my word,” Joel said.

  “This virus is deadly. It’s bad. Each outbreak is worse than the one before. That is why we’re limited. We are spread thin. We can only hope, that when eighty percent of the people in this hotel right now get sick, and they will, we can only hope that we have the people to care for them. This is the pivotal site. The make it or break it. What will we be doing? We’re trying our damnedest to beat this thing, Mr. Carson, because if we don’t …” Randall said, “quarantine lifted. White flag goes up. The fight is over.”

  <><><><>

  “Can I have a pair of shoes?” Ava asked. “Socks? Flip flops? Something?”

  She was ignored. It was as if she wasn’t even a person. Just an object going through the motions on some sort of conveyer line.

  She was stripped of her pajamas, scrubbed down, walked through some sort of steam, then afterward, she was not only scanned but blood was taken from her.

  Ava hadn’t a clue what they did with Cassie, Calvin or Landon.

  Her child, her son was ripped from her arms. He screamed her name with his hands held out to her as the military took the children in a different direction.

  “I want them back! Where are my children?” Ava cried.

  No one gave her an answer.

  She hoped that after she was through whatever processing they did to her, she’d see him. But Ava wasn’t the only one separated from her family. Every person that was at that seminar was pulled together.

  For the longest time, she swore she could hear Landon crying. Was it her imagination? He had to be scared. Ripped from his bed, from his home and then his mother’s arms.

  Ava was cold, her hair was wet, her body squeaky clean and her toes were tingling numb. She thought of the kids. “Can you get my children shoes or something for their feet? Please?”

  Each and every soldier or health worker she passed she asked and they looked through her as if she were a pane of glass.

  Finally she broke and Ava couldn’t stop sobbing. They didn’t return her purse, and without that she didn’t have her phone. How was her husband supposed to know about her and the kids?

  After one metal mobile building to the next, Ava finally discovered where she was when they led her through the revolving doors of the Ambassador Suites hotel.

  For hours she was only eight miles from her home.

  She carried in her arms a plastic bag with toiletries. She wore only hospital scrubs.

  Her eyes felt swollen from all the crying, and when she walked through the lobby she recognized the hotel manager. People approached him and it appeared as if he were directing them. .

  “Joel.” she whimpered his name. “You probably don’t remember me.”

  “I gave you pizza,” Joe said. “You’re Ava. You were with Rayne.”

  Ava sighed out with a whimper. “Yes. Joel. My children. Have you seen my children? They took them when they were disinfecting us.”

  Joel sighed out. “They’re making me separate people. Those who were in contact with Semora and those who are family members. I have several children I put on the second floor.”

  “Is that where I’m going?”

  Sadly, Joel shook his head. “Like me, you have to stay down here.”

  “But I want to see my kids.” Ava pleaded. “I need to know they’re all right.”

  “I’ll have someone check on them. But for their wellbeing, understand, you have to keep your distance.”

  Ava sniffled. “Does it make a difference now?”

  “Any chance they have of not getting sick is one we have to take.”

  “I understand.”

  “I’ll make sure I find them and you talk to them. Right now … you’re in room 124. Okay?”

  Clutching her belongings, Ava nodded.

  “Someone will be by to drop off rations. But there is water in the rooms.”

  “Thank you.” Ava took a step. “Joel, can you find my children shoes? They took our clothes. I know they’re cold.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Joel said. “Ava, I know this is tough, but this is for the good of all.”

  Ava started to walk; she had to find her room. She was lost and confused, her body numb and stomach churned from hunger. A part of her felt violated and she wanted to just curl up and cry.

  It wasn’t like her not to be strong, and Ava knew she’d find her strength again. But at that moment she felt beaten from lack of knowledge and lost without her kids. Ava couldn’t help but blame herself. It was her fault. If she hadn’t gone to that seminar, they wouldn’t be there.

  If the kids got sick, she would never forgive herself.

  When she arrived at the empty room, exhausted both physically and emotionally, Ava sat on the couch in the suite and just broke down again.

  <><><><>

  Joel had enough.

  He kept up his professional exterior, but deep inside he was folding. He was all right at first. He had his clipboard and room numbers. The first people that came through were, as Randall called them, Contact B.

  Children, family, spouses and friends of those who were in immediate contact with Semora. They came through the line as families, and he assigned them rooms. No one really looked distraught, just tired and confused.

  But when the Contact A people came through, Joel felt their pain.

  Each of them looked lost. Each of them somehow carried blame for being there. It was then he realized that they were made to feel responsible for all that was happening to their loved ones. Ripped from
their families, tucked aside.

  Not a single person knew where their families were. Ava wasn’t the only one to ask where her children were.

  Joel was asked by everyone.

  “Where is my wife?”

  “Where is my child?”

  “Where is my mother?”

  Enough.

  Joel had seen enough desperate faces for one day. He didn’t know what to tell them. Truth be known, Joel had enough. His hotel taken over, his wife locked away, Rayne was somewhere and to top it all off, a deadly virus was seeping its way through the air. Joel couldn’t help but wonder as he looked at each person: Will she die? Will he get sick?

  Every person was a possible victim.

  Joel handed the clipboard to Walter and walked off.

  He just needed some time to absorb all that was going on. He also needed to get in contact with his wife to make sure she understood why they had to be separated.

  He went to the lounge to steal a quiet moment. As he reached for a bottle of bourbon, he smelled it.

  Something was cooking.

  Joel knew nothing should have been cooking considering he placed all employees on the third floor. The kitchen was shut down and food was going to be distributed.

  Bottle in hand he followed the scent to the kitchen.

  He heard the clanking and the sizzling and Joel walked around the line.

  His heart sunk. He recognized the dark blonde hair. She had it pulled up in a ponytail and she moved about naturally, grabbing ingredients and tossing them into the pot.

  Joel sighed out and set down the bottle. “Bianca, what are you doing? You’re supposed to be upstairs.”

  Bianca set down a wooden spoon and turned around. “I’m making soup.”

  “That’s not what I mean. Please go back upstairs.”

  “No.” She turned back to her kettle. “There are a lot of people in this hotel and they are hungry and scared. I’m making soup. They can have soup.”

  “Bianca, do you understand what is happening?”

  She ignored him, adding her ingredients.

  “Bianca … there is a virus. A deadly virus. One of our guests had it. I was in close contact. Eighty percent of us in close contact will get sick. Do you know what that means?”