Influenza: Viral Virulence

by Ohliger, Steven

  “Were you stationed here?” Michael asked, indicating the armory building behind him.

  “Yes, and then when the virus came through and everything went to hell, I made the decision to bring my family here to keep them safe. It seemed to be the most secure place available.”

  “Good thinking,” Michael said.

  Lorie broke in. “Do you happen to have a picture of your wife and baby with you?”

  Zach grinned and said, “Sure do, ma’am.” He reached into his jacket pocket and handed her a photo through the chain-link fence.

  “Oh, how beautiful,” Lorie said honestly as she examined the picture.

  Her comment made Zach beam even more proudly than he had before. “Thank you. They’re both the best things that have ever happened to me.”

  “How old is she?” Lorie asked, pointing to the baby in the picture.

  “Fifteen weeks,” Zach answered. “She’s growing up so fast.”

  “She’s precious,” Lorie said, handing the picture back.

  Zach gratefully took the photo and put it back in his pocket. Then he turned to Michael. “I can’t believe you brought so much. I only asked for some formula, but you two not only brought back cases of formula, but a ton of baby food as well.”

  “How did you know…?” Michael started to ask.

  Zach lifted up the binoculars that had been hanging around his neck. “I watched you the whole time. It’s wonderfully refreshing to know that there are still some good people remaining out there. Men of honor. And women,” he added, quickly looking at Lorie.

  “Thanks,” they both said at once.

  “Do you want me to help you carry the food inside?” Michael asked.

  “No, I’ll do it after you leave,” Zach replied. He was still cautious about them being strangers. Michael didn’t blame him, especially with a family to protect. Then there was a moment of silence as he seemed to be thinking about something. “Can you stay right here for just a few minutes? There’s something else I’d like you to have.”

  “Okay,” Michael answered. He wasn’t too sure about what Zach, the armory guy, was up to.

  Smiling, Zach took a few steps backward, still facing them. After a few more steps, he turned around and trotted back to the building. He disappeared into the green armory door while Michael and Lorie waited. After a few minutes, Zach reappeared and walked back to them. Michael noticed he was carrying three cardboard boxes in his hands. Two boxes were small and about the same size. The third box was a little larger.

  “If you could just step away from the gate,” Zach said and pointed to where he wanted them to go.

  Michael and Lorie complied obediently.

  Zach unlocked the gate and slid the three boxes out. He then closed and relocked the gate. “Since you went above and beyond to help out my family, here’s a little extra something for you.”

  “Thanks,” Lorie said.

  “The two smaller boxes have night-vision scopes for the rifles. The other box has a pair of night-vision goggles. They’re all third generation.”

  Michael’s mouth dropped open. “Wow!” was all he could manage.

  Lorie looked puzzled.

  Still in shock, Michael explained. “Gen-three is state-of-the-art night vision. You can’t even buy this on the open market without dropping at least seven thousand dollars for each.”

  Zach laughed at Michael’s amazement. “It will definitely give you the advantage at night. These scopes make pitch-black darkness seem like the middle of the day. You can see everything. You’ll have more than just a fighting chance out there.”

  “Thanks,” Michael stammered.

  “No, thank you,” Zach repeated, “for all the baby food. By the way, where are you all heading? Or are you hunkering down near here?”

  “My parents have a retreat down on the South Carolina-Georgia border,” Michael replied.

  “I’m glad you have a place to go, but the journey may be more difficult than you might imagine,” Zach said with a little concern.

  “Why?” Lorie asked.

  “I have limited radio contact with a few local groups around here. One of the groups is part of the Kentucky National Guard. From what I understand, you’re going to have a lot of trouble crossing the Ohio River into Kentucky.”

  Michael waited for him to continue.

  “It seems that a large, organized group from the inner city has decided to block off the bridges on the Cincinnati side of the Ohio River. They’re extremely violent and won’t let anyone cross. You need to stay far away from them. They’re cold-blooded killers.”

  He continued, “The Kentucky National Guard is stationed at the other end of the bridge. They’ve had multiple skirmishes with each other, but no one has been able to get the advantage over the other. It’s a stalemate at the bridge.”

  “But doesn’t the National Guard have access to heavy weaponry?” Michael asked.

  “Yes, but these nut-job killers have obtained weapons equal to our own. They’re using people they’ve captured as human shields,” Zach replied. “I would suggest you avoid that area entirely and go west into Indiana until you find a better bridge to cross. This group has also managed to block all the other bridges out of Cincinnati. They’ve made travel over the Ohio River to Kentucky virtually impossible. The only bridge open is the John A. Roebling Bridge. They use that one for periodic raids to test the National Guard, but it’s heavily guarded by their own gang members.”

  “And what if we travel hundreds of miles east just to find that the other bridges are blocked by local gangs, too?” Michael asked.

  “Anyone else would be better than these thugs at the Cincinnati bridges. If even half of the reports I get from the Kentucky unit are true…trust me; this gang is bad news.”

  “Okay,” Michael said.

  “Changing the subject,” Zach continued. “Do your parents have a shortwave radio?”

  “Yes, I think they have one at the retreat,” Michael said, a little confused by the question.

  “Would you like me to try to get a message to them?” Zach offered.

  “Can you do that?” Michael asked, surprised. “That would be great! I haven’t been able to get a hold of them. They’re probably worried sick about me. I’m sure they think I’ve gotten into trouble or, even worse, that I’m dead.”

  Zach nodded. “I can get a radio message down to the Kentucky group, and they should be able to pass it along. What would you like the message to say?”

  Michael thought for a second. “If you can send it, say that we’re okay and on our way. We don’t know when we will arrive, but we’re taking our time and being careful. And please tell them I love them.”

  “You got it,” Zach said.

  “Thanks again,” Michael said. He held on to the boxes of night-vision lenses like they were his own baby. He was about to turn and leave when Zach started to speak again.

  “If you need it, there’s a small shooting range behind the building. Just follow this dirt road that goes around the outside of the fence. You can’t miss it.”

  “It was nice meeting you,” Lorie said as they said their farewells.

  Michael, Lorie, and Sandy headed back to the truck and climbed in. Zach watched them as they drove off. Michael checked his rearview mirror and saw him open the gate and begin carrying the cases of baby food into the complex.

  Chapter 28

  Later that evening as the sun dipped below the city skyline, and the evening stars were starting to shine, Michael’s truck barreled down the street. Small bits of newspaper fluttered about in their wake. The headlights picked up ruined, charred buildings, broken windows, and trash strewn all over the sidewalks and street. Multiple columns of black smoke rose in the distance, indicating that downtown was on fire.

  As they drew to within a few miles of the bridge, Michael rechecked his map and slowed the truck to a stop. He switched off the headlights. Lorie handed him the night-vision goggles, and he placed them on his head. He took
a moment and looked around, completely amazed at what he could see in the dark. It was almost as clear as looking around during the day—that is, if it was cloudy outside, and all the light filtering through the clouds was green. But it was still incredible what he could now see in the dead of night. “This is fantastic,” he exclaimed, looking down one of the many alleyways.

  Lorie took out one of the rifle scopes and also started looking around. “Wow!” she said in amazement.

  Michael drove the truck slowly forward. The city of Cincinnati was also known as “the city of seven hills” because the original city had been built on the hillside next to the Ohio River basin. They were traveling downhill toward the river.

  “Is that the bridge up ahead?” Lorie asked, peering through her scope.

  The top of a large suspension bridge loomed ahead of them. “Yep, that’s it. We should probably park here and go the rest of the way on foot. Don’t want to risk anybody hearing the truck engine.”

  He turned the truck around in case they needed to make a quick escape and parked it along the curb. Opening the door and climbing out, Michael reached back inside and got both the .308 and the SCAR rifle. Best to be overly prepared, he thought.

  On the other side, Lorie got out, holding her assault rifle in one hand. Michael knew she had the pistol tucked away at her waist for backup.

  Using their newly acquired night-vision gear, they quietly moved down the street, hugging the side, trying to blend in with the buildings. At every open intersection, they bent down and checked in all directions before continuing to move forward. After a few blocks, they began to notice a light ahead. Finding a good vantage point from behind the half wall of a small garden, Michael removed his goggles and got the rifle scope out.

  As the road continued downward, he could see the beginning of the bridge. To his dismay, the entrance to the bridge was completely blocked by a large, yellow school bus parked across the road. It looked like cars were strategically parked on either side of the bus, blocking anyone trying to drive onto the bridge.

  On this side of the bus, a fire had been lit in a large garbage can. Two men were walking back and forth, guarding the entrance to the bridge. It was an impossible situation. They would have to find another way across the river.

  As they sat there watching the thugs, Michael caught a slight movement to the left of the bridge. He swiveled his scope over and saw a jeep, followed by a Humvee, emerge from a side street. Several other cars appeared behind the Humvee, as they all headed to the bridge entrance. As Michael looked closer, he spotted two people tied up in the back of the jeep. “This can’t be good,” he muttered to himself.

  The procession of cars stopped directly in front of the bus. The two guards approached the Humvee, and after a brief discussion with someone inside the vehicle, one of them walked back to the bus and boarded it, cigarette in hand.

  A minute later, the bus’s diesel engine sputtered to life, and it backed up, revealing a pathway onto the bridge. The cars drove through the opening and then parked in a rough semicircle on the other side. It was difficult to see, even with the night-vision gear, what was going on in the darkness beyond the bus. He could see a large gathering of rough-looking people, both male and female. This must be the group Zach had warned them about.

  As he and Lorie watched, the two bound individuals were brought out from the back of the jeep. Then, Michael watched in horror as a very tall man with a shaved head and pointy goatee doused them with gasoline.

  The captives, a man and a woman, appeared to be begging and pleading with the tall, bald man. After a signal from him, some of the gang members appeared and tied long ropes to the captives. After tossing the free ends of the ropes over the high bridge strut, they hauled the screaming couple up in the air. Michael could hear their desperate cries for mercy.

  “What are you doing?” Lorie asked him.

  Michael had taken out his .308 rifle and was loading a round into the chamber. “We can’t sit here and do nothing.”

  “We can’t shoot them all. There are too many of them.”

  “We don’t have to shoot them all. If I can hit just one or two of them, it may be enough to distract them. By the time they realize where the shots came from, we’ll be long gone.”

  “And then?”

  “Then, they’ll know we’re out here. And we’ll have to find another way across the river.”

  “Well, I agree with you. We can’t sit back here and let them hang these poor people,” she said.

  As Michael steadied the rifle on the wall, he said, “I don’t think they intend to hang them…”

  Before he could look through the scope, the first captive, the man, erupted in an inferno of flames.

  “Oh my God,” he heard Lorie cry softly beside him.

  With more urgency, he brought the rifle to his shoulder. Through the scope, he could see the first victim writhing and screaming as he burned. The group of thugs was laughing and cheering. The bald man, whom Michael presumed to be the leader, started toward the woman dangling from the rope with a lit torch in his hand.

  Trying to calm his nerves, Michael got his breathing under control. He centered the scope on the bald leader who was within seconds of lighting the woman on fire. Lining up the crosshair with his head, he inhaled slowly and steadily. The leader was reaching up with the torch toward the second captive. Michael let his breath escape through pursed lips as he gradually squeezed the trigger. The rifle fired, and as Michael watched through the scope…nothing happened. Quickly chambering another round, Michael tried to find his target again.

  Unfortunately, he was too late, and the second captive was engulfed in flame. Ashamed of his failure and disgusted with himself, Michael turned away from the horrible scene and sat down with his back against the wall.

  “What happened?” Lorie asked.

  “I missed,” Michael said, slamming his hand against the pavement.

  “It’s okay,” she tried to reassure him. “You tried your best. And you’re allowed to miss.”

  “But my screwup just cost the life of another.”

  “You don’t know that,” Lorie said.

  How could he have missed? He berated himself. He’d had the leader’s bald head directly in his sights. Then he realized that he had never fired the .308 before tonight. He should have checked the rifle out at the firing range behind the armory when he’d had the chance. Throughout his journeys, since recovering the rifle at the department store, the gun had been banged around. The scope may have gotten knocked off center. If the scope wasn’t accurate, the rifle was useless at a distance. He would have to fix that as soon as he got a chance. He couldn’t believe his own stupidity—another mistake. He couldn’t afford many more.

  Thank goodness the psychotic gang was so involved in torturing the captives that none had heard the crack of his rifle. Either that, or if someone had heard, they mistakenly thought it was just a piece of wood popping in the fire in the garbage can.

  “They’re moving again,” Lorie whispered. She had gone back to watching the group of thugs through her scope.

  Michael turned around and peered over the brick wall. She was right. They had gotten back in their vehicles and were driving away. After the last car passed, the bus pulled forward, reclosing the opening. Then, the line of cars disappeared behind the building from where they had come. Although dead, the two burning human torches were still dangling from the bridge.

  “Come on,” Michael said as he got up.

  Lorie followed him as he ducked into a nearby alley and started walking. “Where are you going?” she asked as she tried to keep up with him.

  “They have to be staying close by,” Michael replied. He put the goggles back on and guided them both down one alleyway and then the next. After they’d walked five blocks, another flicker of light appeared ahead of them. They approached the next street. Directly in front of them was an old blue Plymouth. Michael recognized the car because it was just like the first car his dad had ev
er let him drive. He had some good memories of that hunk of steel. Rounding the corner of the alleyway, Michael removed the goggles and looked down the road in amazement.

  The desolate street sloped toward the river. At the bottom, where the street ended and intersected with another, was a gas station. In contrast to all the gas stations they had passed in the last few weeks, this one had all its lights on. The abandoned cars had been cleared away, and the pumps looked like they were on. But this station was not empty. Some of the gang members who had murdered the defenseless couple were hanging out, drinking beer, and smoking cigarettes. It seemed like they were having a great time after the evening’s festivities. They were sorry excuses for human beings.

  As Zach at the armory had warned them, they were all heavily armed. Most had rifles, but some also had assault rifles. Over the laughing and partying, Michael could hear the loud sound of a generator powering the station.

  Lorie tapped him on the shoulder. “Look there, just to the left of the station. See that?”

  A huge, eighteen-wheeled tanker truck was parked there. This gang had somehow managed to secure an almost unlimited supply of fuel. Large hoses from the bottom of the tanker truck ran into dark holes in the concrete. And if they ever ran out of fuel from this tanker, they would just go out and find another. In fact, Michael spotted another tanker truck parked just behind the first one.

  Watching the happy gang, Michael was physically sickened by what he had witnessed in the last half hour. Less than a mile away, two tortured bodies hung dead on a bridge. The victims had experienced an unjust, excruciating death that Michael couldn’t even imagine. “I’ve had enough for one night,” he said to Lorie.

  “Me too. Let’s get out of here. I don’t like being too close to these lunatics.”

  They walked quietly and carefully back to the truck. No one spotted them. When Michael started the engine and put it in gear, they sped away. He wanted to put as much distance between them and the Cincinnati gang as he could.