“Looks like you gave us a Buick,” he said with a smile.
She turned, smiled, and looked back at Rob. “Rob, this is Sheriff Dawson.”
“You must be the man she did all this work for,” the sheriff said. “Nice to meet you.”
Rob gave him a handshake, threw an arm over his shoulder, and thanked him, and thanked him again.
“Not a problem. Couple of my men got hit, but we’re dealing with it. Looks like ol’ Carlos took a bullet too.”
“He’ll be okay,” Rob said. “He’s a fighter.” He wanted more than anything to believe it.
The sheriff cocked his head back and noticed Arthur slowly crawling away and trying to get to his pistol.
“Hey, I know him,” he said, pointing.
Rob and Mila turned to look. Rob took a step forward, only to have Mila grab his arm. “No,” she said as he turned to look at her. “I want to have a word with him.”
She stepped past Carlos and approached the mayor while pulling out her revolver.
“Hey!” Rob said, running over to them.
Mila kicked Arthur with her boot. He grunted and fell on his back, spitting blood. Mila stood directly over him, her legs straddling both sides of him. She raised her gun and aimed at his face.
“All the pain you’ve caused. All the lives you’ve destroyed. I can only think of one thing to do with you.”
Rob slowed his pace and approached her cautiously with his hands up. “That’s enough, Mila. He needs to answer for his crimes.”
She looked over at him. “In what world will that happen?”
Rob delicately touched Mila’s arm, pulling the gun down. “Don’t give him an easy way out. He doesn’t deserve it.”
Clearly conflicted, Mila’s shoulders shook as tears streamed down her cheeks. “He deserves to die, just like his horrible gang.”
“No, Mila,” Rob said. “We can’t decide that anymore.”
She lowered the gun completely as Rob wrapped her arms around her and squeezed. “Those days are over.”
American Epidemic
Prologue: Quarantined
These are the facts: There have been several reported Ebola outbreaks throughout Africa, from the late 1970s to the present. The disease was first identified in 1976 in tropical regions of Nzara and Yambuku, where two simultaneous outbreaks occurred. Yambuku, a small village in the northern Congo, is known primarily as the center of the 1976 outbreak and the place near the Ebola River, from which the virus draws its name.
The first reported Ebola outbreak killed an estimated 600 people, many of whom were medical personnel trying to treat the disease. From 1976 to 2013, twenty-four outbreaks occurred involving more than one thousand cases, with mortality rates as high as 90 percent.
From 2013 to 2015, the largest Ebola outbreak ever recorded spread and ravaged West Africa at unprecedented levels. As of March 2015, there were twenty-four thousand reported cases, resulting in over ten thousand deaths. Researchers believe that the outbreak had originated in a young boy who died in December 2013 in a village in Guinea. From there, the disease spread to his family and to others, already gaining ground throughout the region before experts recognized the illness as Ebola.
Since its initial outbreak, medical teams, intensive care units, and World Health Organization officials have established prevention, treatment, and control measures that have successfully contained the spread of the disease in the past. These measures largely involve quarantine facilities, monitored treatment, and enforcement of proper sanitation procedures. Medical personnel often take an inherent risk providing care to patients infected with Ebola, and their selfless dedication to combat the disease often leads to their contracting the disease and joining the body count.
Research today explains the ways in which Ebola can spread. There are also specific times when a patient is believed to be contagious. Researchers say that the virus spreads only when the person is exhibiting signs and symptoms of the disease, which usually occurs eight to ten days after contracting the disease. In the past, quarantine facilities have always been places where people go in order to protect themselves from a deadly virus hell-bent on their destruction. Protecting against Ebola has been no different.
To date, there has been no documentation of airborne transmission, which is to say that the disease cannot be transmitted through air. In fact, the spread of the disease through the air has not been documented in either laboratory or natural conditions. Experts say that this has a lot to do with Ebola thriving in mucus, bodily fluids, and blood, while having no real presence in the air or lungs. The immunity of the human respiratory system against Ebola is believed to be due to low levels of virus in the lungs, insufficient to cause new infections. For over thirty years, that has been the conventional wisdom about Ebola and how it spreads.
Ebola first entered the United States when a Liberian man infected with the disease came to the US desperate for treatment. He lied about his condition in order to gain entry to the country, but didn't make it far before the disease consumed him. He later died in a Dallas hospital, while his extended family was kept in government quarantine within their own cramped apartment. But the man from Liberia wasn't the only one to carry the virus across borders. The CDC regularly flew American health care workers who had contracted the disease in West Africa back to the US for emergency treatment.
In all instances, the health workers survived after being administered experimental drugs and treatments. Bringing infected patients into the US proved to be very controversial, but the CDC insisted that the patients posed no threat. They were, after all, Americans who had dedicated themselves to providing humanitarian aid in countries overwhelmed with the disease.
The president then authorized over three thousand military service members to support the West African nations rampant with Ebola. Doctors, soldiers, and humanitarians went to ground zero in rotations in an attempt to halt the outbreak. It was business as usual, however, and the 2014 Ebola outbreak became old news. It soon lost the public's attention, and it appeared as though the government had everything under control. But something happened. An oversight that proved devastating in the end. For no one could predict the patterns of a highly contagious and unpredictable disease in a new environment.
This is the story: What experts failed to realize was the indigenous nature of the disease and how it singularly operated in its subtropical and often rural environment. Once the disease entered the United States, something changed: the disease grew more resistant and found ways to became more lethal than ever before. It spread first through medical personnel, then through their families, then through schools, taxis, subways, restaurants, airports, theme parks, movie theaters, and anywhere else.
But its spread was gradual, building and building, until one day it was too late. In attempts to control the outbreak, the government set up mass quarantine facilities all throughout the country. They were most predominant in the major cities, and they soon became the only hope for containing the disease.
Several places designated as quarantine facilities in infected areas had been set up in haste. They used hospitals, government buildings, and other times, public schools. Nothing was off limits, even homes and businesses. One such military base outside Reno, Nevada, had its hands full and was particularly crowded with many local and out-of-state residents, looking for sanctuary from the deadly outbreak that had consumed the entire state. Inside the base, the government had constructed several Ebola treatment centers; all of them highly secure with a large military presence. New arrivals stood outside a hangar in a line at least a quarter of a mile long for in-processing. Before being directed to one of several medical examination stations, every person had to first go through decontamination.
This was an official HAZMAT operation. Individuals were brought in, hosed down, and sanitized with cold pressure washers and disinfectant. Once inside, disoriented groups were herded into the various medical posts labeled in numerical order with big white signs and
red numbers. Families were split apart and individually processed through. The environment of the hangar was cold and sterile.
Doctors and administrators questioned, prodded, and examined a convoy of confused residents, who stood nervously under the glare of low-hanging fluorescent lights set up at every section. It was going to be a long night for the one hundred medical personnel, 175 National Guard soldiers, and two thousand quarantined individuals.
In a relatively short time—by government standards—the southern and northern borders of the state were sealed off in an effort to keep the disease from spreading. The president, in conjunction with Homeland Security, the CDC, and US Customs and Border Patrol, implemented the highly controversial measures amidst an already-volatile political climate. For the first time, it seemed, the government was taking the Ebola crisis seriously after months of downplaying the outbreak. It seemed, however, too little too late. The CDC scrambled to update its advisory warnings and procedures, as no one seemed immune to the disease, no matter their age, gender, or health.
Ebola was all the more terrifying due to the manner in which it ravaged the body unlike anything seen before in America. Its contagion rate was on par with the infamous 1918 flu pandemic that infected five hundred million people across the world. Though Ebola casualties hadn't reached anywhere near the numbers of the influenza outbreak, widespread panic was no less pervasive, and with access to instant information, people were not so easily left in the dark.
The bureaucratic screening process was grueling for all involved, as they were subject to a series of medical tests in order to advance from one section to the next. A long line of cots awaited all those admitted into quarantine, and from there, their fate was largely unknown.
Soldiers were positioned everywhere throughout the base, dressed in protective gear. They remained quiet and indifferent as it was deemed best not to talk with the quarantines. Screenings moved at a monotonous place. Due to the size of the crowd and the uncertainty in the air, fear and tension dominated the environment as people were understandably eager to get within the facility and be cleared for infection.
A long line of people stood inside the entrance of the hangar, ready to get their checkups after undergoing the invasive decontamination section where they were stripped and sprayed down only moments ago. It was the middle of the night, and everyone was tired and hungry, including the military and health personnel. There seemed no end in sight to the influx of people.
In-processing had become an endless task ever, and the personnel had become accustomed to working in twelve-hour shifts. There were several HAZMAT and chemical teams on hand to deal with possible compromises to the highly controlled areas—overall, a massive team, working together in thankless roles each and every night.
Suddenly, a man slouching in line began to cough, causing the people near him to turn around in a panic. They immediately backed away and accused him of being sick. The man vehemently denied this, but all eyes had already turned on him in fear. The damage was already done, and panic leaped through the crowd like wildfire, with people pushing each other and trying to flee through the narrow exits, away from the coughing man. As several soldiers in protective gear approached him, the man also tried to flee but was tackled and delivered a series of shocks from a stun gun.
Chaos continued to escalate through the entrance area, and people trampled over each other to run back through the decontamination section and back outside. The only choice left to the soldiers for restoring order was brute force. They began hitting men in the back of their legs with the buttstocks of their rifles, just to send a clear message.
Women screamed and clutched their children. Children cried and desperately tried to find their parents. Shots were fired, people were subdued, and a full-fledged riot soon broke out, which traveled throughout the hangar, section by section. Somewhere in the madness, a lost child ran under his cot and hid, waiting for the uproar to subside.
Carson City, Nevada: Before the Outbreak
Far from the quarantine outpost, Greg Atkins stood in the kitchen of his quaint, two-bedroom home, brewing a cup of coffee before going to work. The television was on in the living room, and he had the volume up loud enough to hear the local morning news as he downed a series of vitamins together with a small bottle of water he pulled from the fridge.
The Ebola outbreak in the US was in its early stages, and though news of the disease was disconcerting, there were plenty of other troubling matters to occupy the media. There was fear of Iran acquiring nuclear weapons. There was Russia's unprecedented expansion into neighboring sovereign countries. And there was the growing Middle East turmoil and the fall of Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria, and Libya. Talks of World War III were becoming more commonplace as of late.
Terrorism and genocide were consuming several impoverished countries in Africa, while the international efforts were united at combating the Ebola outbreak in West Africa, where it had already claimed over ten thousand lives. But there were some bright spots here and there. Infections had been going down, and two of the three main outbreak countries, Liberia and Sierra Leone, had recently reported an end to the crisis. Much of this was due to the outpouring of support from nations like the US, which maintained a humanitarian and military presence in the region.
As Greg poured himself a cup of coffee, he tried to clear his mind of the troubling news on TV. He could easily have changed the channel to a superficial talk show, but he liked to stay informed. It was part of who he was, or who he aspired to be: a man in the know. As a prepper, staying informed was at the top of his list.
He washed out his coffee mug and placed it in the sink. Looking at his watch, he saw that it was almost time to go. Monday morning meant the start of a long work week. Now in his forties, Greg's body was starting to feel its age, and he was growing tired of crawling through attic ducts to install security alarm systems. Before this, he had worked for the phone company. No matter his occupation, he always found himself working with wires. It was what he knew.
Prepping, however, had become much like a second job: something he did in his free time that proved both productive and fulfilling. There was little question in his mind of impending disaster right around the corner. With many of the world's economies in shambles, including the US, and with war, disease, and famine spreading, Greg wanted to be prepared for the worst. But he knew that it was impossible to be equipped to handle so many different doomsday scenarios all at once.
He had to prep practically and be prepared for the most realistic and impending crisis. This, he believed, involved the dwindling of resources caused by hyperinflation and food shortages. It seemed to Greg that the government had been propping up the economy with debt it could never repay. Once the debtors stopped paying and the lenders came to collect, the crash would be triggered. He, like most Americans, had experienced the housing crash and subsequent recession of 2008. Now he believed something ten times worse was imminent. However, Ebola wasn’t among the threats he truly suspected.
There had been routine news reports about the disease, but nothing matched the level of concern caused when Ebola was first carried into the country by an infected Liberian man in 2014. Since then, the influx of medical and military personnel had become a common presence, and any incoming aid worker showing symptoms was immediately treated and oftentimes cured. The virus didn't seem to pose any immediate danger to the public. For most Americans, no news on Ebola was good news. It seemed like everything was under control.
Greg was an alarm system technician or "field service representative" for Red Alert Home Security. He had his house, his work van, and a dog named Captain, a German shepherd. Captain was running around in the back yard as Greg got ready for work. Outside time was limited, as his dog was notorious for digging holes when Greg wasn't around and had to be kept inside during the day.
Captain knew this and made the most of his morning routine by rolling in the grass, barking at birds, and chasing squirrels. Prepared to start his day, Greg
opened the door leading to the back yard and called Captain inside. It usually took some coaxing, and he had to shake a bag of dog treats, which lured Captain into the house in a matter of seconds.
"Good boy," Greg said, feeding the dog a bacon treat and patting him on the head.
Greg closed and locked his back door and walked back through the dining room. He checked the kitchen to make sure Captain had enough food and water in his bowls and then grabbed his keys and wallet. Before leaving, he walked into the living room to shut off the television. The news caught his eye again: reports of more corruption in Washington. Another day, another scandal. He flipped off the TV and bid farewell to Captain.
There wasn't much he could do about anything going on in the world, or the country for that matter. At the very least, he wanted to ensure that he was prepared for disaster. But prepping took planning, and planning took work. Greg lived in a tight-knit suburban neighborhood in Carson City. He had come to Carson City looking for a fresh start, a place he could call home after so many years of running from a past known only to him.
He opened the front door and then pushed open his screen door. After locking up, he moved down the steps of his wooden porch and onto the short, narrow sidewalk leading to his company van in the driveway. He buttoned the top of his red polo work shirt and tucked it into his black slacks. The shirt bore the Red Light logo over his chest. He straightened his ball cap and knelt to lace up his suede work boots, long broken in for the past three years.
Greg was tall, nearing six feet, sporting short dirty-blond hair and a light stubble on his cheeks. To his neighbors, he seemed quiet and preoccupied, but was also known to offer assistance whenever needed. The neighbors trusted him, it seemed, though no one knew much about him beyond his reputation as a cordial man who kept mainly to himself. When word spread that Greg was some kind of "Doomsday Prepper," it only added to the mystique. But it was something he always said little about.
End Days Super Boxset Page 75