The Rabid Mind

by Bruce Buckshot Hemming

  As Jason was putting his shoes back on, he noticed the conveyer belt had not moved. Fuck! He tried to appear unaffected. Jason observed as the supervisor and agent spoke, but he couldn’t hear the conversation. The agent’s finger pointed to the screen, as if waiting for something to happen. They waited for several seconds, but there was nothing.

  “Must have been a power glitch of some sort,” said the supervisor. “Go ahead and let it through.” The briefcase exited the belt. Jason, who was impatiently waiting for it, grabbed the handle and began to walk away from the security area.

  “Mommy, look. Did you see it?” Said the young boy, who was in front of Jason in the security line. “That box was moving all by itself.”

  Jason didn’t notice the boy, but the agent did. “Excuse me sir, can you please come here,” asked the TSA agent.

  Jason’s hands began to tremble. Crap, was this protocol or did they see something? He thought to himself. The TSA agent took Jason aside to an area for further inspection.

  “Sir, can you please open your briefcase?”

  “Sure, is there a problem?” Jason replied in a calm tone.

  The agent didn’t reply and, after several minutes, Jason was visibly nervous. “There seems to be something wrong with the combination. If you don’t mind, I’ll just take it back to my car and if I can’t get it to open up, I’ll just leave it behind and take a later flight,” said Jason.

  “I’m sorry sir, but we can’t allow that. If you can’t get it open yourself, we can assist.”

  Jason continued to play with the combination as his stomach twisted inside him. One of the agents asked him a question, but he couldn’t hear it over the loud thumping sound of his heart trying to escape the clutches of his chest.

  The security agent grabbed the briefcase and inserted a metal tool in the opening.

  “That’s really not necessary. I can just take it back to my…...”

  Just then, the briefcase flung open as four rats sprung into mid-air in every direction. One rat leaped onto the agent’s shoulder and angrily bit him on the neck. Onlookers began to scream. Parents hoisted their children onto their chests and shielded them for cover. The agent shouted profanities. One by one, the enraged rats jumped around, attacking and biting people. Security agents from various terminals were called into assist.

  Jason was running backwards when Einstein suddenly leaped onto his pant leg. Jason smacked him off as quickly as possible and took off running for the door, screaming “Rats!”. He never felt the one tooth break into his skin. It started a chain reaction, as the infected rats went on the rampage throughout the terminal. Panic and chaos quickly spread as Jason escaped out the door into a cab. He had to get to Becca.

  Jason seemed confused as his mind spiraled into action, laying out a backup plan. How far would it spread? He had a 3-day head start.

  Back at the airport, Director Banks was sat quietly at his gate, waiting for his flight back to Denver, when the commotion began. Minutes later, he felt something pounce on his head. Dr. Banks jumped up, grabbing at his head, when the little creature attacked his hand. He knocked the rat off, thinking nothing more of the event than a nuisance.

  Over the next hour, hundreds of people were attacked as the rats raced around with foam in their mouths. In the midst of shock and confusion, many didn’t notice they were bitten or couldn’t tell if the wounds were related to the incident. Many continued going about their day as they boarded their flights. Others flooded the closest clinics and hospitals, seeking immediate treatment.

  Airport Animal Control eventually captured the rats and handed them over to the Center for Disease Control (CDC).

  The various hospitals were bombarded by victims. Unaware of the nature of the incident, each one was treated with the rabies vaccine and released. Walking out of the hospital, they sighed with a sense of relief, ignorant of the fact that the rabies mutant strain was highly contagious and could be transferred through blood, saliva, body fluids and urine; transmission occurred most when infected secretions came in contact with open cuts, bites and wounds, or was passed through mucosa to mucosa contact, such as during sex. Doctors had no way of knowing that the vaccine they’d administered actually helped the virus spread faster through the body.

  Becca met Jason at home. He sat her down and tried to explain everything that had happened. “Becca, we have to get out of here now! We can go to Mexico,” he said.

  “You’re a fucking idiot, Jason! How could you do this?” Becca’s head was reeling in shock and horror. “I’ve got to call my parents and my brothers and warn them! You just let one of the deadliest viruses known to man, escape……in an airport of all places! For God’s sake, Jason!” Becca was horrified beyond words. “We’ve got to call the CDC! They need to know what they’re dealing with here! They’ll need to sequester the infected and quarantine the entire airport and stop all flights! Damn you, Jason! This may become the next worldwide pande…!”

  Becca suddenly felt her body jerk backwards as Jason grabbed her from behind and twisted her around. “Are you insane, Becca! I’m supposed to just call the CDC and tell them everything? Do you think I’m that stupid?” Jason asked rhetorically. “You know we’ll both be arrested and thrown in jail for the rest of our natural lives!”

  “I don’t care, Jason!” Becca retorted hotly. “We need to do the right thing before this gets permanently out of control! People will die!” She stormed over to the phone, yanked the receiver off the cradle and started dialing. Just then, Jason struck her violently in the back of her head with a lamp, producing a blow that knocked her out cold instantly. He proceeded to bind her up with duct tape, then dragged her into the laundry room, heaving her up into a chair. After duct taping her to the chair, he placed a large strip over her mouth.

  “You’re so stupid, Becca.” Jason yelled. He ran to his closet and pulled a duffel bag out. He quickly jammed clothes and toiletries into the bag, before rushing out of the door. He jumped into his car and gunned the motor, swerving wildly out of the driveway and exploding onto the road. First things first, he thought.

  He drove to the bank and withdrew $2500 in cash. Next, he topped off the tank at a nearby Shell gas station and sped down Interstate 5 toward Mexico.

  He’d been driving for several hours and the bright California sun was giving him a headache. He fumbled for his sunglasses as he raced down the road. Shortly thereafter, he took up a cheap motel room for the night.

  In the room, he was beginning to relax when he realized stress was making his headache worse and he was feeling a cold coming on. Jason slowly laid down in bed thinking about Becca and what he did to her. “Damn you Becca!” He felt a brief tinge of guilt, until he remembered that the cleaning lady was scheduled to stop by tomorrow. She’d find Becca in the morning, just in time for him to reach Mexico safely.

  In Denver, Director Banks was enjoying the evening with his wife. He knew all he had to do was have sex with her and throw her some cash for shopping, then she’d leave him alone for a few days, which would allow him to go into the city to see his sweet, sexy, young mistress.

  Jason awoke at 6 a.m., got dressed and quickly ran out the door. It wasn’t long before he hit the border and crossed into Mexico uneventfully. He drove to Acapulco, where he wanted to relax in the sun and have a well-deserved holiday, but his headache was worse today. He was becoming irate at the smallest of things, almost running down the street kids that rushed the car to beg.

  On the outskirts of town, he grabbed a hotel room. “I should be safe here,” he said out loud, as if talking to someone. The evening rushed in quickly and, once the sun was gone, Jason felt better. “Must have picked up a flu bug from the airport,” he mumbled with irritation.

  The next day, Jason felt even worse. He couldn’t stand to open the motel drapes. The ambient daylight sun triggered an instant, murderous, throbbing headache. He stayed in bed and turned on the news, wondering what had been said about the incident at the airport. Surprisingly, thou
gh, there was nothing, no panic, no concerns, no word of any trouble brewing. In fact, the latest Hollywood scandal was the talk of the town.

  Jason slept most of the day and through the night.

  The third day quickly approached and Jason awoke in a blinding rage. When the hotel maid entered the room hours later, Jason lunged at her, ferociously attacking, strangling, and biting her exposed skin. Her eyes bulged out as she stared at him in terror, thrashing like a rag doll as she tried to breathe. The more she struggled, the harder Jason compressed. He couldn’t help it. He was in excruciating, throbbing pain.

  Two doors down, another maid was cleaning and vacuuming. When Jason was done with his first victim, he raced at the next, covered in blood, screaming uncontrollably in a blind rage. Another guest rushed to the maid’s aid, enabling her to escape, but he wasn’t so lucky.

  What used to be Jason lurched blindly down the hall, grabbing at bystanders. He bit the few who couldn’t pull away from him fast enough.

  It wasn’t long before the police arrived and surrounded Jason with their weapons drawn. Like a statue, Jason stood in front of them. They stared at him in disbelief, revolted at the blood dripping from his mouth and running down his shirt.

  “Seguro que si. Otro gringo colmo en las drogas.” Just one more American high on drugs, said the cop. Jason started towards them, before suddenly jolting involuntarily as his body entered the hail of bullets.

  The maid didn't show up until Monday. When she arrived, she found Becca’s rotting corpse slumped in the chair. Fear had caused Becca to vomit and the duct tape trapped it in her mouth. She aspirated, soiling herself as she suffocated and died, choking in her own puke. Becca took with her any hope of warning others of the looming specter of death.

  It all happened very quickly. The hundreds of people that had been infected at LAX airport unwittingly spread the virus to growing multitudes by open mouth kissing and sexual contact. Within a few short weeks, world governments had totally lost control. As the pandemic raged, two distinct populations emerged: those infected and the survivors. People thought back grimly to the “zombie apocalypse” movies they had seen over the years, but this was no movie.

  Director Banks returned to the city after spending some time with his wife. His mistress was waiting for him. That evening, Director Banks engaged in a series of acts with his mistress and her male companion, thinking that life couldn’t be better. He made arrangements to take his mistress with him to Utah, however his plans were short lived. The virus killed him by the 4th day. He was considered lucky because he never entered the rampage stage. Instead, he died quietly sitting at his desk, leaving behind several infected partners.

  Chapter 11

  Matt noticed a Kenwood semi-cab nearby—the cab interior ransacked and ripped up. “Probably looters,” he said to himself. He threw his right leg over the console to shift into the passenger seat and felt dull pressure followed by sharp pain as his right calf became impaled by the tip of a crowbar. “Shit,” he spat, as he thrust the butt of the AR-7 on the floorboard and used the rifle to twist his body around and look at his leg. One end of the crowbar had an irregular, rusty, jagged tip. As Matt looked at the puncture wound, he struggled to remember when his last tetanus booster had been administered. “Shit, what’s the rule about that?” He yelled out loud. He figured he had about seventy two hours before it was too late. He remembered that if a wound was heavily contaminated by a dirty instrument, the ten year rule about tetanus shots may not apply.

  It was already dark and Matt could hear a commotion outside the semi-cab. He guessed it was the infected roaming the night. It was 7 p.m. Matt knew he had to wait until morning to venture out to the nearest hospital to have a tetanus shot administered. He pulled up his duffel bag and rummaged around, searching for a protein bar and his water bottle. His leg throbbed and burned terribly. He held his leg to ease the pain and tried to prop it up as best he could while staying slumped down in the seat to avoid being seen. He looked in the bottom of his bag and found two Ibuprofen tablets, one partially crushed and the other covered in lint. Matt tossed the pills in his mouth and swallowed them with water, knowing it wasn’t enough to ease the pain. He ate his protein bar and drank a couple more ounces of water, hoping he wouldn’t have to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. These older semi-cabs didn’t have a ‘john’ like the newer ones did.

  Matt settled back into a restless sleep, repeatedly waking up to the dull throbbing pain in his punctured leg. By morning, he was bleary, haggard and desperately needing coffee. Wincing, he moved his leg down from being propped up. He twisted around to look at the wound and noticed his whole calf was bright red and swollen, indicating an infection was brewing. In the back of his mind was a timer ticking down the seventy two hour window he had to get the tetanus shot.

  Looking out the window of the cab, he didn’t see anyone or anything around and decided this was his chance. He swung the big semi door open and lowered himself to the ground, bearing his weight onto his left leg. “Son-of-a-bitch,” he growled as he brought his right leg down. He instinctively shoved his hand into his pocket, looking for his cell phone to search for the nearest hospital. As Matt turned on his phone, he remembered that service had gone down after the virus began. Just then, he heard a siren in the distance and decided to head in that direction. He limped along the side of the road, staying in the shadows as best he could.

  After a couple painful hours of traveling on foot, Matt arrived at a downtown hospital. The emergency entrance of the hospital was choked with cars and ambulances parked haphazardly on the curbs and lawn. One car had even crashed into the “ambulance only” glass doors.

  As he neared the walk in entrance, Matt was dumbfounded to see hundreds of people trying to push and shove their way past the triage desk where two hefty male nurses tried to maintain order. Most of the people Matt could see were agitated, wide-eyed and frantic. The waiting room was full and there was no available floor space. Some people were feverish, glassy-eyed and listless, while others were agitated, jittery and inconsolable. The floor was slick with saliva and vomit. Matt fought his way through it to get to the triage desk.

  He caught the eye of one of the nurses and yelled above the din, “Hey, I need to see a doctor. I need a tetanus shot and somebody to stitch up my leg.” The nurse looked at Matt and shrugged his shoulders.

  “We’re swamped, can’t you see that? You’ll just have to wait.”

  Matt frowned and, as he turned, he was stunned by a young woman he bumped into, who had white spittle frothing at the corners of her mouth. Horrified, he turned to get away, only to see hoards of others confused, dazed and bent over, drooling on the floor. Others were not moving, but staring blankly into space.

  Matt knew this was the same phenomenon he had seen at his apartment and all over town after he had come back home from his camping trip. Fear gripped him as he realized he wasn’t going to see a doctor, wasn’t going to get a tetanus shot or antibiotics for his leg.

  He turned around frantically, looking for a way past the emergency waiting room. Toward the side of the area, there was a door with a window and, beyond that, a hallway. He managed to shove his way past the mob and squeezed through the door. The wall read “x-ray” with an arrow pointed down the hallway. Matt hurried along until he found the entrance to the x-ray department. His hunch was that the x-ray department sat directly behind the ER. He wandered through a maze of x-ray rooms until he found a door labeled “E.R. Authorized Personnel Only Past This Point”.

  He opened the door to a chaotic scene. Writhing, moaning patients lay on gurneys as nurses frantically raced back and forth from bed to bed, trying to carry out doctors’ orders and keep patients calm. One doctor about Matt’s age, fatigued, his white coat dingy and stained, bent over a woman’s arm, trying to restart the IV she had just yanked out of her hand. Blood was trickling down onto the doctor’s shoes and pooling on the floor. The sight caused bile to rise into Matt’s throat.

  “U
m, excuse me, doctor, I….”

  “I what,” the doctor barked at Matt.

  Taken aback, Matt stammered, “I, uh, need a tetanus shot and I think my leg is infected.”

  The doctor threw down his IV supplies and looked up at Matt. The doctor’s expression suddenly changed as he realized Matt was not suffering from the virus, but appeared to be ‘normal’. Matt quickly recounted his injury. The doctor looked around to ensure no one was close enough to hear them.

  “Look, there is some kind of epidemic. We don’t know what it is. We’re short staffed and I don’t have time to help you.”

  Matt looked disappointed, so the doctor pulled him closer, “This is going be totally unofficial, okay? See that small fridge behind that counter?” he asked, pointing with a gloved hand, “Open it and look on the top shelf, for a small bottle labeled Tetanus Toxoid. Grab it and bring it here.”

  Matt quickly walked over to the fridge, opened it and fumbled among some small bottles until he found the right one. He ran back to the doctor. The doctor ripped his soiled gloves off and donned a clean pair. He yanked open a drawer filled with syringes and broke open a package. He deftly cleaned the bottle stopper with alcohol, uncapped the syringe and drew up half a cc of the toxoid.

  “Give me your arm,” he instructed Matt. It stung a bit as the toxoid went in. The doctor looked at the delirious woman on the gurney next to them, then back at Matt. The doctor reached up, swinging the privacy curtain closed. He fumbled in the woman’s purse, looking for something. Finding it, he held up a medication bottle.

  “Are you allergic to any antibiotics?”

  “I don’t think so,” Matt replied.

  The doctor whispered, “She isn’t going to need this. Peel off the label and hide it in your stuff. It’s Cephalexin, an antibiotic for skin infections. Take it for ten days. If you don’t, you’ll just get worse.”