by J. D. Bishop
Patricia didn't believe a word of the teens' story. It was too ridiculous. But this Gestapo bullshit had always pissed her off. She hated seeing big government, big corporations, big everything shove people around just because they had muscle and money. She was just calling the men's bluff.
The highest-ranking official glanced at his companions, stroking his chin. He looked unflappable while the men returned uneasy looks. If it wasn’t for them looking worried, Patricia’s guts would be in her throat. As it was, her stomach was roiling inside as the senior man sat forward, staring a hole in her. “Miss Oakley, I think that—”
Right then, a nurse came barging in the room, gasping for breath. “Dr. Humphries, we've had several patients go into cardiac arrest in the treatment room.”
A look of alarm came over the men's faces. Whatever was happening wasn’t what they expected. In a rush, Dr. Humphries left with the nurse. Two of the military men got up and began to follow them, leaving just the one in a doctor’s coat behind. The eldest of them, the one with steely hair and steely eyes, paused in the doorway. “Don't let them leave,” he ordered the military doctor. “That’s an order, Major.”
The Major nodded, and the other men left the room. Patricia could hear cries of grief coming from down the hallway and more footsteps running. Strangely, she didn’t hear the sound she expected, the alarm that says there’s a cardiac arrest on the ward. She decided to press her luck. She didn’t know when the hard-eyed man might be back, but the Major looked scared.
“Get up, guys. You're coming with me.” Patricia motioned for the teens to follow her. The teens were quick to rush for the door as Patricia backed up, reaching for the door handle.
“Not so fast,” the Major said. He stood up and tried to put every ounce of sternness he had in his voice. “You are under orders to stay put.”
Greg and Jeff crossed their arms and advanced menacingly toward the man. They were two teenaged boys in the prime of their physical lives, strong and sure. “Who's going to stop us?”
The man reached into his jacket, and from his hip, he drew a gun. The gun was ugly, all black and gleaming deadly in the overhead lights, the end of the barrel a gaping maw that stared at them with evil intent. “This will.”
Greg and Jeff drew back with alarm, raising their hands in caution. They were boys, full of more testosterone than brains, but they weren’t stupid. Jeff kept his voice mostly calm, but there was still a quaver in it as he spoke. “Whoa, now. Come on, man, you don't want to do anything stupid.”
Patricia was scared too, but she saw the gun waver, and she clamped down on her fear to look at him, unafraid. “Put that down, sir. You know as well as I do that something is going on here. You might be a Major, but you’re a doctor and a man first. If I remember right, you took an oath to treat the sick and do no harm. That doesn’t include pistols. You're better off helping those poor people who are sick in the waiting room. Just let us go.”
The Major’s eyes tried to harden, but then they softened, and he cursed softly before putting his gun away and looking down. He looked like he was aging by the second, and his sigh sounded like that of a guilty, condemned man. “Fuck it. I'm probably going to get my ass kicked for this, but you're right. Get out of here. Get somewhere safe.”
“Where’s safe?” Jeff asked, and the Major looked back with haunted eyes that told him the truth. Perhaps nowhere. With that, he rushed out of the room, the door sighing closed on its pneumatic arm.
The teens looked shaken, and Patricia felt her stomach unknot as she looked around, but she didn’t have time to let it go just yet. Grabbing her brother's arm, Patricia said sharply, “Now let's get out of here. We can figure the rest out when we get away from this shit.”
They ran down the hallways avoiding the doctors, nurses, and patients. There was a crowd of commotion around the main room, but they didn't stop to see what was happening. Finding an empty elevator, they slid inside and hit the button for the lobby, taking a side door out. The morning light hit them like a dagger, and finally, Patricia felt like maybe they were in the clear . . . sort of.
Outside the hospital, Patricia turned on her brother in a rage. “What the fuck do you think you were doing out late driving drunk? Do you have any idea about the major problems you have caused for me? Whenever this shit is over, they’ll be coming to take you and your friends to jail!”
Warding off his sister's rage with raised arms, Greg protested, “Trish, please. There's something going on here. And it's not what you think.”
Pat rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Do you honestly expect me to believe that ridiculous story y'all are spewing? Men dying and then jumping on your car only to be put down with enough gunfire to stop a small army? Give me a damn break.”
“But—” Greg began.
Sharply raising her hand to silence her wild brother, she snapped, “What I'm going to need you to do is go to your school and warn everyone to go home because there’s a nasty outbreak going on. From what I saw, this is some serious shit, and we need to get the warning out to people. The government’s playing this too close to the vest. Then I want you to go pick up your niece from school and take her home and stay in the house with her and hope the police don't come looking for you.”
Greg was shaking his head. “I don't want to go anywhere near my school. After what happened? The cops are going to be waiting for us there, Trisha.”
Cutting her eyes, Patricia threatened, “Well, you’re going to. This shit’s going to require you to cut the bullshit and man up for real, not just posturing.”
Before Greg could protest, she turned, sizing up and looking over Greg's friends. “Which one of you has a car at home since my brother trashed mine?”
With a solemn glance toward the hospital, Becky raised her hand. She hadn’t said anything yet, but in her eyes, Pat noticed that she was perhaps the calmest of the whole group, like there were wheels spinning inside the head of the pretty girl, but so far, not everything had lined up.
She didn’t have time to wonder though. Nodding, Pat said, “That's it then. I'm going to drop you three off at Becky's house. You three are going to go warn everyone, including your parents, and get my baby from school. Make sure you stop and get some germ masks and gloves. I don’t know if they’ll do dick, but they can’t hurt either.”
Tossing a glance at the hospital building in worry, Greg asked, “But what about Wesley and Christie? They're our friends. We can’t just leave them there.”
A look of sympathy flashed across his sister's face. “The doctor said they were in serious condition, which means they can’t go anywhere even if we knew where they were. There's nothing you can do for them at this point but hope they pull through. Just pray they don't get that virus that's going around.”
The three teens glanced at each other sadly. They hadn't meant for anyone to get hurt when they had gone out partying. It was all the crazy clerk's fault.
“What are you going to do?” Greg asked. “I mean, we’re going to school, getting Nattie, and all that. What are you going to do?”
“I'm going back to work.” Patricia looked straight ahead as they quickly walked to her car. “I’m a reporter, and this is a public health crisis. I have a story to report.”
Chapter 4
Natalie had just put on her backpack when someone rang the doorbell. Grabbing her cheap tablet—she was hoping her mom would get her an iPad this Christmas—Natalie raced down the stairs. She glanced at the clock. It was past the time she normally went to school, but she’d still make it on time if that was Granny.
“Who is it?” Natalie asked when she got to the door. She received no response. She climbed on the stool and peeked out the spy hole. It was Granny Oakley. She was fanning herself with a paper as if she was hot, even though to Natalie, it was still chilly for New Orleans. She could still see dew on the windows.
Natalie quickly got down and opened the door for her testy grandmother. She hadn’t had a lot of time with her, but she kne
w not to keep her waiting.
“Hi, Granny,” Natalie said as cheerfully as she dared, hoping this was one of the days her grandma was nice. They were rare, but they did happen.
“Hello, little Nat,” her grandma said absently, fanning herself. She was sweating as if she had run around the block, her grey hair in disarray. Which was strange, because from what Natalie knew, her grandmother never exercised, unlike her Mom.
“Grandma, what's wrong?” Natalie asked, worried but still slightly relieved. It looked like her grandma wasn't going to be mean today.
Unfortunately, she was wrong. Annoyed by her granddaughter's question, Granny snapped, “I'm burning up, that's what's wrong. Your grandfather was sick, so sick he couldn't get out of bed, and now it looks like he got me sick. The bastard.”
Natalie didn't know what to say to that. She didn't like when her grandma called her grandpa names. She knew that Grandpa Joe and Uncle Greg had their issues, but he was nice to Natalie almost all the time.
“Would you like a cup of water?” Natalie asked, trying to be helpful. If she was helpful, maybe Granny wouldn’t grump at her so much this morning.
“Why, of course, dear.” Her grandmother stepped inside the house and closed the door, her scowl lessening a little at least. She went over and plopped down on the couch while Natalie got her a glass of water, running it for a second before filling the glass. She’d gotten herself a glass of milk with her own breakfast, so she wasn’t thirsty. Also, she hated tap water. It always tasted funny to her. She preferred the bubbly stuff that her mother bought.
“Thank you, little one,” her grandmother said in relief when she returned with a tall, cold glass of water. Natalie thought that this was the nicest her grandma had been to her in a while.
“So what happened to your uncle Greg?” her grandmother asked, taking a long sip before sighing and sitting back. “Thank you, sweetie.”
Natalie sat down on the chair across from the couch, shrugging. Other than being sleepy since she had to wake up, she didn’t really worry about it. She knew her Mom thought she was innocent, but Kelly Slater’s sister was sixteen, and Kelly had told Natalie all about what she and her boyfriend did together. Kissing and stuff. Whatever. Boys were gross. “I don't know. Mommy said he didn’t come back home last night and that he probably stayed at his girlfriend's house.”
Her grandma shook her head and began coughing. “That's a darn shame. Your uncle doesn't get along with your grandfather because he doesn't want to obey rules, so he comes here where he gets free rein to do whatever he wants. Your mother needs her butt whooped for allowing this to happen. I swear, I don't know where I went wrong with that girl.”
Natalie said nothing. She liked her Uncle Greg. Granny was probably just mad she couldn't make him do whatever she wanted and call him names all the time. She had heard Uncle Greg tell her mom about some of the things that happened at Granny’s house, and of course, when he’d shown up, he’d had that broken cheekbone too. It was because of Greg that Natalie never complained when her Mom was strict with her. She knew it could be a lot worse.
“Are you taking me to school?”
Her grandma began coughing violently, gasping for breath. “Does it look like I'm in a position to take you?” she gasped. When she regained control, she said softly, “I'm sorry, little Nat. I don't mean to be so cruel. I just feel very sick right now. Let Granny go to the bathroom, and hopefully, I'll feel better when I'm done, and then I'll take you.”
Nat glanced down at tablet. She really wanted to play her Barbie game so she definitely didn't mind. Barbie was a lot more fun than announcements and the Pledge of Allegiance. “Okay.”
Her grandmother went down the hall and into the bathroom. Natalie could hear retching sounds shortly after she was inside, and she worried for a minute before shrugging. Her grandma must be really sick, but she’d call if she needed help. Maybe she would ask Natalie to stay home and take care of her and she wouldn't have to go to school today. Natalie was definitely fine with that. That meant she could have fun for the rest of the day. Taking care of sick people was easy—get them some soup, a little juice or water, and stay quiet.
Natalie sat back on the couch and began playing a Barbie game on her tablet. The objective of the game was to play dress-up and match clothing and accessories for her Barbie. The more she matched, the higher her score got. She liked it. The clothes were so pretty, and they looked a lot like what her mom wore for work too. Thinking of her mom as Barbie made Natalie giggle. Her mom would like that, she thought.
As the game continued, she was having so much fun that she forgot all about her grandma. It was only after a long time had passed that she noticed the silence in the house. It was very quiet. Something was wrong. Natalie put down her tablet and got off the couch.
“Grandma?” Natalie called.
There was no response. Natalie walked slowly down the hallway toward the bathroom. She knocked on the bathroom door. There was no sound at all inside, not even the shuffle of someone trying to be quiet like Uncle Greg sometimes would do when he went into the bathroom and didn’t want anyone to know it for some reason. That usually happened after dates with his girlfriend. She must not let him pee at her house and he felt bad about it.
“Grandma?” she repeated. No answer. She slowly turned the knob and opened the door wide. Grandma was still in there . . . but she wasn’t moving, and she didn’t look like Grandma anymore.
Natalie screamed.
Chapter 5
“We need a gun.”
Jeff, Greg, and Becky had just been dropped off at Becky's house by Patricia, who drove off with a determined look and a warning to do exactly what she’d told them. They were sitting around Becky's large kitchen table, bottles of Coke in their hands from the fridge. Her parents weren’t home, leaving the teens looking at each other fearfully. They were debating on whether they should go to their school or not, none of them wanting to get the virus that was going around.
Jeff had done all he could to convince Greg's sister to stay with them and not go back to her job. He told her that being outside right now was a danger. That everyone who was sick was going to turn into some sort of monster. She didn't believe a word he said and had told them they needed to accept responsibility for what they did instead of making up stories. What she would do, she had said, was make sure she didn't get sick. Jeff hoped she didn't.
He had a crush on her. As hot as Becky was, Patricia was the older woman who drifted through most of his late-night jackoff fantasies, her lean body and beautiful lips whispering pleasures that even Becky had never even thought of. More than that, though, Jeff would dream of being more than just a boy toy for Patricia, a fantasy that he knew was stupid by the light of day, but late at night would creep back to worm its way into his thoughts again. She was thirty, after all—not that much older.
He shook his head, focusing on the moment. There was a cover-up going on. That, they could all be sure of. The military presence at the scene of their accident made Jeff think that it was something they’d known about for a while. Then, when they tried to get them to change their story for an entire night instead of taking them to jail, it had only served to further confirm Jeff's suspicions. If the military was just responding to something, they’d have listened and maybe called them crazy, but not gotten them to change stories. Whatever was going on, the military knew something about what was happening to the people who were getting sick.
What worried Jeff the most was that Greg's sister had left with the intention of telling this on TV, but she would only be telling part of the story. The most horrific part of the story was that the people who died with this virus came back. It was insane, but Jeff had touched the man. He’d felt his skin and seen the lack of breath. Hell, he’d seen the man’s eyes literally go white. She didn’t believe them, but it was true, and it scared Jeff more than anything else.
“You know Wes and Christy are doomed,” Becky said quietly, staring into her bottle before upen
ding it and draining it in a long, deep pull of the sweet drink. She burped softly, sighing as she looked at the now empty bottle. “All those people there at the hospital . . . they're going to turn into what that man turned into. They're going to come for them.”
“You know, maybe you guys really didn't see what you thought you saw and I just saw what you guys wanted me to see. There is such a thing as mass hallucination,” Greg said, sounding unsure of himself. He seemed to be trying to convince himself after his sister's pep talk. “Why are we drinking this shit so early in the morning anyway?”
“Water’s busted. My folks said not to drink it,” Becky said quickly, her eyes sliding down. Jeff wondered why and guessed that something was going on in her family that she didn’t want to talk about. He let it slide. He didn’t have a personal problem with Coke in the morning.
“We need a gun,” Jeff repeated, bringing the discussion back to what was immediately important. He turned to Becky, ignoring Greg as he started to protest again. “Isn't your dad like a gun collector?”
Becky nodded. “Yeah, but he keeps them locked up. They’re in a safe, and I don't know the combination.”
Jeff scratched at his arm, trying to think. He guessed it depended on the safe, but knowing what he knew of Becky’s dad, it wouldn’t be something stupidly simple like his birthday. “He's got to have some lying around that he has easy access to. Doesn’t he?”
Greg interrupted, trying to gain control of the situation. Now that he was firmly in the denial camp, his natural macho levels were coming back up and he wanted to be the alpha male in the situation. “Wait a minute, guys. We're already in enough trouble here.”