by C. M. Fick
"Daddy?" Stevie's scared voice came from beyond the bathroom door and Powell's heart restarted.
"Stevie? Are you okay? Is your sister with you?" Powell turned the knob but the door was locked. "Open the door son," he said in a calm tone; what he really wanted to do was break the door down.
"Is mommy still out there?" he asked, almost too quietly for Powell to hear.
"She is, but she can't hurt you or Gillian anymore. Open the door Stevie." The lock clicked, and the door swung wide, revealing his frightened children. He stepped into the bathroom wrapping them in his arms, not caring that they saw the tears streaming down his face. When he saw the nest they'd made in the bathtub with towels, he realized they'd spent the night trapped in the bathroom by their dead mother.
"I'm so sorry I couldn't come home sooner." He placed one hand on Stevie's face and the other on Gillian's, looking at one then the other as if they were miracles. Gillian, who was eight and had grown out of the thumb sucking two years ago, now had her thumb placed securely in her mouth. Stevie's eyes looked like he'd grown into an old man over night; the boy was only twelve. "Can you tell me what happened?"
"Gilly hasn't said a word since we locked ourselves in here," Stevie started.
Powell looked at his daughter and asked, "Why don't you want to talk baby?" She only shook her head and buried her face into his shoulder, thumb still in her mouth. He turned back to his son. "What happened Stevie?"
"We came home and mommy pulled into the garage as always. She closed the door but didn't see that someone came in before she closed it. We got out and went inside while mommy was getting the groceries from the trunk. She screamed..." Stevie got a distant look in his eyes as he trailed off and Gillian trembled in Powell's arms.
"Go on," he urged gently. Not wanting to, but still needing to hear the story.
Stevie swallowed, and glanced over Powell's shoulder to where their mother lay on the floor. Powell kicked himself for not having the presence of mind to cover her before opening the door. "She came running into the house; the side of her head was bleeding and her arm was too. She slammed the door and told me and Gilly to go upstairs and lock ourselves in the bathroom. That she was going to call you and not to open the door unless she told us to come out or you did. A little while later, it was after dark by then, something started banging on the door and I said 'mommy is that you?' but she didn't respond, so I made a bed for Gilly and me and we stayed in here until you came home."
Powell swallowed another lump in his throat and pulled Stevie into a tight squeeze. "I'm just glad you two are safe." His voice was tight with a flood of emotions.
There was a shout from downstairs and after a moment the shotgun went off, making them all jump. "You two stay here." He looked back at the body of his wife and changed his mind. He scooped up his children and hurried to the stairs, setting them down halfway down the stairs. "Stay here," he said again. "If I tell you to run, go back up and lock yourselves in the bathroom again." Stevie wrapped his arm around Gillian trying to look brave, although Powell could see the fear beneath the façade. In that moment he was so proud of his son.
There was a second blast from the shotgun and Powell jumped down the remaining stairs, running to the back hallway. "What the..." he slid to a halt when he saw Marcy standing over two bodies - one was his neighbour and the other was Thomas' - Marcy held the shotgun in trembling hands.
"He attacked Thomas when he opened the door to the garage. By the time I got here it was too late for Thomas." Powell could see the old man's neck was torn open. "He'd set the gun by the laundry so I shot the zombie and then I had to shoot Thomas in the head when he bled out." Her voice trembled as she spoke.
"You did the right thing." Powell gently peeled the gun from Marcy's fingers. "My kids are on the stairs. Do you think that if I get these bodies moved to the side of the garage, you can get them and load up the food and water? I need to get the guns loaded and I want to sweep the garage." Marcy nodded and went back towards the kitchen as Powell dragged the bodies back through the garage door, depositing them unceremoniously on the cement floor. He cleared the garage and grabbed the duffle, listening to Stevie chatter away to Marcy as he carried the heavy bag to the back of the SUV.
The kids screamed and Powell rushed back into the kitchen noticing the banging on the patio door. "What's wrong?" he barked; his gun already drawn. Marcy stood with the kids protectively behind her, facing the back patio door as it shook from the force of each blow. He didn't need to look to see what was in his backyard - he knew that another zombie had been attracted by the gunshots. "Okay, Stevie, I need you to go upstairs with Marcy, pack a bag of clothes for you and your sister and get my shave kit and all of our toothbrushes from the bathroom. Do you think you can do that quickly?"
Stevie looked frightened, but nodded. Marcy grabbed his hand and turned towards the stairs. "Marcy, you can grab some of my wife's clothes, they will be a little big, but they should work until we can get more. Do you think you can pack a bag of my clothes as well?"
"Sure thing," Marcy called over her shoulder.
Powell scooped up Gillian, who stood stalk still, staring at the door. "I won't let anything happen to you," he told her, grabbing several of the grocery bags Marcy pulled together. After securing Gillian in the SUV, Powell went back to the kitchen for the remaining bags and containers of water. The glass of the patio door gave a loud crack and he knew he didn't have much time left. He ran to the bottom of the stairs. He was about to shout up, when Marcy and Stevie barreled down the stairs, loaded with bags.
"Let's go!" He grabbed the bag Stevie was struggling with, pushing the boy past the door and down the hall to the garage. Just as he swung the door closed behind them, Powell heard the glass in the kitchen shatter. While Marcy helped Stevie into the back, he shoved the remaining bags into the back and closed the hatch. Jumping in the SUV, he hit the door opener and started the engine. As soon as the door was clear, he backed out onto the road that looped around the complex.
"Where are we going?" Marcy asked from the seat beside him.
He put the SUV in gear, suppressing the urge to tell her to be quiet, but also knew that by talking he'd calm his children. "Our cabin in the mountains. It's not far from Cripple Creek. We have a seventeen hour drive ahead of us but we'll be safe there." Or so he hoped.
Volume 4: Confessions, Quarantines and Cover-ups
Investigative Journalism...
By the age of forty-two Allegra Lozano of Austin, Texas had won a Selden Ring Award, a Worth Bingham Prize, a Pulitzer Prize, and two IRE Awards for her Investigative Journalism works. She'd recently wrapped up two years of research on the true cost of the Iraq War and its effects on the US economy; she hoped to earn at least one more award for the piece. Initially, she'd wanted to research pharmaceutical companies, specifically a large company named Synergy and their processes for testing and pushing drugs through the FDA, but was immediately blacklisted by Synergy's legal, public relations, and communications departments.
Allegra's most promising insider had been a young woman named Sabrina Manahan who was the administrative assistant of Synergy's R&D department head. Sabrina had initially been eager to work with Allegra but after the legal department issued a warning to their employees about the ramifications of giving her information, Sabrina stopped responding to all correspondence. When Allegra hadn't been able to find another reliable source within the company, she'd moved onto the Iraq War while keeping tabs on the pharmaceutical giant. So when an email from Sabrina appeared in her inbox with the subject 'URGENT', Allegra opened it with both apprehension and excitement, knowing this could be her opportunity to root out and expose the unethical practices of Synergy Pharmaceuticals.
The email was short and included three video files; Allegra read with growing unease.
Dear Allegra,
I'm sorry, but this email isn't what you're expecting. I don't think anyone expected what's currently happing in San Antonio and I don't believe it can
be stopped. I'm sending you this, in hopes that you will be able to spread the word to the American people so they can prepare themselves for what is coming.
Enclosed you will find three videos; the first is titled 'Confession' - Hugo Farner's confession. The second is a recording taken in our primary quarantine lab two days ago, titled 'QUAR-04-23'. The third, titled 'Sab', is a video from me attempting to explain the events that led up to the first two videos. I fear that by the time you read this, I will no longer be alive and so I leave it to you to warn people of what's coming.
Sincerely,
Sabrina Manahan
Administrative Assistant to Hugo Farner, Director
Research & Development Department
Synergy Pharmaceuticals
San Antonio, TX.
Encl: Confession.avi, QUAR-04-23.avi, Sab.avi
After reading the email several times over, Allegra prepared herself to witness whatever story the videos were going to tell. She clicked on the file titled 'Confession' and sat back to watch with her trusty notepad and chewed-on pencil at the ready.
Confession...
Hugo Farner sat at his desk with a look of utter defeat; his complexion, which normally held an unhealthy red hue from high blood pressure, was pale and drawn. He looked into the camera with empty, bloodshot eyes.
"This is my final confession because I fear that my actions have doomed humanity." Perspiration stood out on his balding head and he wasn't wearing his usual round glasses, possibly because he kept rubbing at the bridge of his nose as he spoke.
"First off, I want to apologize to Clifford Holborn and his wife. I can only hope and pray that you are safe Helena, and that somehow, you will escape the city unharmed and find a safe place for you and your child. I am sorry the baby will never know its father, and for Cliff who will never see the birth of his child if you are fortunate enough to survive." Hugo chuckled mirthlessly and a distant look unfocused his eyes. "Perhaps he or she will be smarter than Cliff, and one day, be able to figure out what we've been unable to. I suppose that will depend on if people can succeed in halting the spread of the virus. If life, as we know it, goes on."
Hugo's eyes refocused on the camera, not caring or unconscious of the tears streaming down his face. "I also want to apologize to Tyrone and Maggie - if they can hear me from whatever afterlife they are in." Hugo lifted his hands to cover his face and choked back a sob. "Oh God! I hope they aren't trapped in this hell we've created." He sniffled, wiping the back of his hand under his nose. "I should have never let you leave Tyrone. I should have never let you out of that quarantine unit; I knew better but didn't want to deal with the additional paperwork and for that I'm sorry.
"If I'd only taken the time, Maggie wouldn't have gotten sick. She wouldn't have been taken to the hospital, where my wife sat on the board of directors, and they'd both still be alive." Hugo's head dropped to his chest and his shoulders heaved in silent sobs.
After a minute, Hugo straightened, with sad determination in his eyes. "I'm sorry for what we've unleashed. I'm sorry we haven't been able to find a cure. We didn't know what we were doing... We didn't know how virulent the virus would be... I'm sorry Arlene; I'm sorry our children are gone, but I thank God they will never know what I've done."
Hugo reached his hand out, grasping something on his desk. He lifted the gun and put it in his mouth. He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.
The sound of the gunshot made Allegra jump and she watched in horror as the window behind Hugo's head was splattered with gore.
"Is everything alright Mr. Farner?" a female voice came from the speaker of the phone on his desk. "I thought I heard something that sounded like a gunshot." There was a long pause. "Mr. Farner?" the female voice sounded worried and a little frightened. "Mr. Farner!" the voice barked his name but of course he couldn't answer. "This isn't funny Mr. Farner. I've just received word that the second and third floors have been breached from lobby level - I need to know what you wish for me to tell the employees." There was another long pause before the phone clattered and fell silent.
The door opened and a gasp came from behind the camera then footsteps could be heard clicking across the floor. Soon a young woman with dark skin, wearing a brightly colored dress came into view. With trembling hands she pressed her fingers to Hugo's neck.
"God damn you Hugo. I hope you rot in hell," she spat venomously. Something on the computer screen caught her attention and with a look of disgust, she rolled Hugo's slumped body away from the desk. Turning back to the computer, she leaned down and clicked the mouse; the video ended.
Allegra sat in shock in front of her own computer, staring at the black screen as the image of Hugo blowing out his brains replayed over and over in her head. She didn't realize that she was breathing heavily or that a light sheen of sweat now coated her skin. She wasn't sure if she wanted to watch the next video.
"Allegra," she told herself, "You are an investigative journalist. You deal with shocking shit all the time. Just open the file." She inhaled deeply, slowly blew out the breath and clicked on the second video.
QUAR-04-23...
The handheld video camera focused on a woman strapped to a gurney as she was being wheeled down a long stark hallway; her eyes rolled with fear as she struggled against her bonds.
"Hugo? Hugo!" she cried, trying to catch a glimpse of something just above her line of vision. "Why are you doing this? Where are you taking me?" she screamed, as she pulled against her restraints.
The camera swung up when a man shouted, "You have to let me talk to her. At least let me hold her hand until we get her into quarantine." One orderly pushed the gurney, while walking behind him were two others who held Hugo Farner's arms ten paces behind, red-faced and kicking. "I am the head of the R&D department. I sign your paychecks and you need to listen to me."
"Mr. Farner," a calm voice interjected, "your judgement in this crisis has now been compromised. You can no longer make unbiased decisions and therefore do not need to be included in this study." The camera panned to a short waif of a man wearing a lab coat and a stethoscope. He trotted along beside the gurney making notes on a clipboard. There was a shiny bald spot on the top of his head and his skin was deeply tanned. "I do not wish to remove you but that can be arranged if you do not allow me to do my job." The man smiled at the camera, pleased when Hugo's protests became muttered curses.
"Dr. Alvarez?" A female voice spoke from behind the camera.
"Yes, Dr. Nguyen?" The short man with the clipboard responded without bothering to look up.
"Besides running the blood work on Mrs. Farner, is there anything else you'd like me to do?" The camera zoomed in on Dr. Alvarez's clipboard, but the notes were scribbled in too small and tightly spaced words to read.
"We will need to hook her up to an EEG, a monitor for her vitals, and get a saline drip started. It's unfortunate that there is no medication to treat viral meningitis, not that we can treat the effects produced by Obsepire either." He made a few more notes on his clipboard before hanging it on the rail of the gurney. He looked up, staring at the camera in grim resignation. "All we will be able to do is monitor the levels of the virus in her system until she succumbs and then when she reanimates, she will need to be observed before being put down."
Mrs. Farner began to scream incoherently and thrash about while Hugo shouted in the background. "You will do no such thing! You will find and synthesize a cure before that happens," Hugo raved.
The procession abruptly stopped in front of a set of double doors. Dr. Alvarez, ignoring Hugo, pulled a key card from his pocket and swiped it at the key card lock to the right of the doors. The doors slowly swung open, revealing a large room filled with medical equipment, an observation window, and a sterile white room beyond the glass. The orderly wheeled a still screaming Mrs. Farner through the doors, but Dr. Alvarez stopped the orderlies holding Hugo.
"I will give you a choice Mr. Farner. You can either come in and observe quietly, or I can seal the door w
ith you out here where you can scream and shout until you give yourself a heart attack." The doctor's eyes were suddenly filled with a dark fury. "Need I remind you that this virus is of your making? That if you hadn't pushed Cliff so hard to complete Obsepire, that perhaps he would have realized what he'd created before it got out into the general population?" Hugo's jaw dropped open and his red face blanched at the doctor's words.
"Or perhaps I should remind you that without Cliff we have no hopes of developing a cure. The best we can do at this point is pray that Cliff pulls through and with enough antibodies for us to synthesize a vaccine - so others do not succumb when bitten. Mind you, by the time that happens it will be too late for most people. The spread of this virus has already gotten out of hand and all of our lives will never be the same."
Hugo spluttered but Dr. Alvarez went on. "I could tell you the chances of Cliff recovering; I have seen his charts. I could also tell you the rate at which this will spread throughout the world, killing billions of innocent people all because of your greed. I could give you statistics that would leave you with nightmares until the day you die by the teeth of one of those abominations your drug created." The doctor's tone changed and his voice became light; the venom gone. "But I suppose you'll behave yourself and allow me to do my work, won't you Mr. Farner?"
Hugo visibly swallowed and nodded his head slowly. Dr. Alvarez waved his hand in the air, giving Hugo a cold smile. "Good!" He said in a cheery voice as he entered the room followed by Hugo, his two large escorts and finally Dr. Nguyen, who turned and swiped a key card over the inside lock. "Dr. Nguyen, I need your assistance please," Dr. Alvarez called from deep within the room.
"Coming doctor," Dr. Nguyen replied before turning off the camera.
Allegra had chills. What's happening? What does the virus do to people? Was whatever was going on in San Antonio really as far out of control as the doctor suspected? Was this the end of modern civilization? Is that even possible? Other questions began to surface in her mind, but her computer screen flickered and a new image flooded the screen, chasing all thoughts from Allegra's mind.