Three Miles Out: Book One

by Jacqueline Druga

  A tiny video square in the corner of his screen played the news, while the Colonel had the President on speaker phone, he was on a continuous rant reading her the riot act.

  Brian knew Linda well, he had known her for years, and she probably wasn’t even paying attention. At this point in the game she didn’t care.

  She wasn’t worried about how angry the, Commander-in-Chief was. What was he going to do, fire her? Demote her? She wasn’t focused on him, she was focused on winning. To her, she approached the current outbreak as a phase of war. One she would not lose.

  Brian saw it differently.

  The infection map widened by the day. They weren’t dealing with a germ, they were dealing with a microscopic parasite that had a surface life of twelve hours. Twelve hours to attach to anyone or anything, always planning its next victim.

  They lost.

  They lost the moment those eighteen soldiers returned from Niger, they just didn’t know it.

  It was no longer time to plan the war, it was time to plan for the aftermath. How to set forth a good life for those who survived, those resistant to the parasite, and even those who could spend their entire life with the infection in a dormant state.

  Plan on that and hope those working at four isolated locations with the Nostrum could figure out how to kill it, instead of focusing on killing those infected and not having a backup plan when that failed. Albeit alone and in secrecy, Brian worked on that plan. He wanted it ready for when someone finally asked, “What do we do now?”

  It would get to that point.

  Although there was a part of him that hoped the Colonel was right and her plan to kick the infection’s ass physically, instead of medically, would prevail.

  Footage of Detroit was leaked intentionally, but no one really seemed disturbed by it, because it came across as urban rioting and civil unrest. Yet when overhead images of Fairfield County, Ohio were released showing infected wandering fields, desolate streets and abandoned roadblocks, everyone took notice.

  As his eyes shifted to the corner of his laptop screen to watch the news, he heard the President had stopped yelling.

  The voices lowered to the point Brian couldn’t discern what they were saying. Then finally silence.

  “Brian,” Linda’s voice came over the intercom. “Can you come in here please?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Brian responded, stood and walked to her office. When he stepped inside, she was gathering items and placing them into a briefcase.

  She spoke as she collected folders, “I’m in a rush and I need to brief you.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “We are sending supplies for the long term survival to the Nostrum locations, along with security. I need you to oversee that effort and make sure that reports are coming in hourly from each of them. Keep me up to date.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “I am leaving for Washington. I have a meeting with the Joint Chiefs to give them information and recommendations so they can make an educated decision about this.”

  “Will Doctor Warren be joining you?” Brian asked. “Since he was the one that discovered it.”

  “No. Just me. He’s busy at, Walter Reed.”

  “So this is the meeting about waging war on those suffering from the illness?”

  “Don’t sound so humanitarian, Major, it’s more than that and you know it,” she said. ‘Besides, what other choice is there? If our medical community fails, and it looks as if they will, we need a plan to defeat it. There is no other way.”

  “I beg to differ,” Brian said. “We should also be planning for—”

  “Duly noted,” she cut him off and closed her briefcase.

  Brian clenched his jaw and held his tongue.

  “You’re acting CO.”

  Suddenly his expression shifted to a puzzled one. “What about the General?”

  “He’s at Walter Reed.”

  “Is he ill?” Brian asked.

  “He has PV-1 along with forty others.”

  “Jesus,” Brian gasped.

  “The hospital is closed off and once I’m cleared in about fifteen minutes, I’ll give the order to seal the entire base.” She looked at her watch and swept her briefcase from the desk.

  “With all due respect, if the base is officially contaminated, should you be leaving … Ma’am?”

  “I have to. Should I? No, but I need to be there.” She walked toward the door. “Seal the base. Once that happens no one gets in, or out. Good luck, Major.” She opened the door and walked out.

  Had he been holding his breath? He was certain that unconsciously he was because his entire body felt weak when he exhaled.

  She handed him a few instructions, dropped a bombshell, wished him good luck and left.

  Wishing him luck was laughable. She ran, found her out, Brian knew it.

  PV-1 had resurfaced. She left him in charge of a base that sadly, in a few days’ time, would be nothing more than a dead base.

  THIRTEEN – WAKE AND MOVE

  The town Norwalk may have had only been twelve miles west of Wakeman, but it was in a different county. It had to be safe. It had to be.

  Or so Brady and Jason thought.

  They blamed the emptiness of the street, the dark businesses, on the early, predawn hour. Some homes had a light on, and that was a flicker of hope.

  “What’s going on?” Brady asked. “Where is everyone?”

  As they passed through town making their way to the highway connection, they saw signs posted everywhere.

  Stay alive. Stay Inside.

  Bert leaned forward from the back seat. “I told you, everything in Ohio just fell apart. Now, I’m not saying it’s everywhere, but enough that the state is sealed off.”

  “You don’t think any of those crazy infected people are here, do you?” Jason asked Bert.

  “No. No. Not yet. It took a good twenty-four hours for the assisted living to turn, another day for the rest of the town to start coming down with it.”

  “How did it hit an assisted living so fast?” Brady asked.

  “They quarantined us after Vivian was arrested. She worked at the facility. News said she murdered her family,” Bert said. “I think it was the husband that went raged. He was sick, with some sort of flu, it was real bad. I think he went mad killed the kids so she killed him.”

  “Wow, so you knew her?” Brady asked.

  “Yep, and her kids. They said she killed them, yet one of them was as spry as a spring day, they dashed across the field and jumped on a soldier.”

  “Oh, fuck,” Jason gasped. “The dead are rising.”

  “Some.” Bert said. “I didn’t see the soldiers get up. Then again, there wasn’t much left, and my eyes aren’t very good with distance. Why were you boys arrested?”

  “Detained,” Brady corrected. “We saw them shoot someone and I guess they wanted to keep us quiet.”

  Jason added, “That’s why we were in Wakeman. We saw it had been shut down and we went out there.”

  “Well that was pretty stupid,” Bert said. “I’m old, my brain doesn’t always work the way it should, but I’d be goddamned if I would sightsee a shut down town.” He paused. “Just saying.”

  Jason looked to Brady. “We have to get home. To our families.”

  “What about him?” Brady pointed back.

  “Oh, drop me off,” Bert replied. “Anywhere will do. I move pretty good with my rollator.”

  “No!” Jason barked, offended Bert would suggest it. “No, you’ll stay with us.”

  “And then what?” Bert asked. “Just gonna drag me with you?”

  “I’m sure there’s somewhere you can go,” Brady said. “Until we’re safe, you stay with us.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Almost at the edge of town, Brady suddenly slowed down. While they still saw no traffic on the road, there was an increase in foot traffic.

  “Is that them?” Jason asked.

  Brady leaned in to the steering wheel as if tha
t helped him see better. “No, doesn’t look it.”

  “There,” Bert said. “Up ahead. They’re all headed there.”

  “A shelter maybe?” Brady guessed and slowed down as they passed the well lit volunteer Fire Department hall.

  “No,” Jason said. “It’s some sort of medical set up.”

  All eyes were upon the building as they drove by. People lined up, moving slowly. From the snippet of what they saw, inside looked like some sort of disaster relief center.

  “You can leave me here,” Bert said. “I can help out.”

  “Help?” Brady asked. “How?”

  “I’m a doctor. Or was. Guess by heart I still am.”

  “How long ago did you retire?” Jason asked.

  “Retire?” Bert laughed. “I lost my license shortly before my seventh-fifth birthday.”

  “Well, in all fairness,” Brady said. “You should have been done being a doctor before that.”

  “Why?”

  “You were old.”

  “You don’t say.” Bert grumbled. “Do me a favor, will you. Write a letter to your older self. Keep it in your wallet and don’t open it for fifty years. God willing you’re lucky enough to live that long. In the letter tell yourself to stop what you’re doing, you’re a useless old bastard.”

  “Hey, now,” Brady defended. “That’s not what I was saying.”

  “Yes, it was,” Jason said.

  “Shut up.”

  “Just because we’re old,” Bert said. “Doesn’t make us worthless.”

  Jason turned in his seat. “Why did you lose your license?”

  “Because I was old. That’s what the paperwork said.”

  Brady tossed up his hand.

  “I suppose I should have stopped a few years earlier,” Bert said. “I was a town doctor for over forty years. It’s pride you know. I started making little mistakes. Prescribing wrong medicines. I suppose it was Lefty Johnson who really did me in.”

  “What happened with Lefty Johnson?” Jason asked.

  “I amputated the wrong toe.”

  Brady laughed, “What?”

  “Well, not me, but I was responsible. Lefty was Wakeman’s top mail carrier, had been forever. He had diabetes and developed peripheral neuropathy in his toe. One got real bad and had to go. I was at the ER with him and wrote the order to amputate the left big toe. Unfortunately, it was the right that needed taken. I was confused.”

  “Wait, how is that entirely your fault,” Jason questioned. “I mean, the surgeon should have known.”

  “In his defense,” Bert said. “Both big toes were bad. Only one needed taken at that moment, but he ended up losing both. If you ever want to know how much the big toe controls balance, just ask Lefty Johnson. Bad enough he didn’t have big toes, but he kept on trying to deliver the mail. Problem was he kept on falling. Then one day he broke his hip and he was done with the mail.”

  “Sad,” Jason said.

  “Yep.” Bert nodded. “So if you want to turn around and take me back there, I’ll help out the medical people.”

  Both Brady and Jason replied at the same time and the same way, “No.”

  “No.” Brady repeated. “We’ll just take you with us for the time being.”

  With another, “Suit yourself.” Bert sat back and relaxed.

  Brady picked up the speed a little; they had cleared Norwalk without incident. He was hopeful his home town thirty miles away would be just fine.

  <><><><>

  Vivian was scheduled for a surgical procedure. Nothing life threatening and nothing medically necessary. It was, however, something Aaron thought would be important. They needed a tissue sample, a rather large one and they would retrieve it from her inner thigh.

  She had no problem with it, what else was she going to do.

  The dining trailer was hopping when she arrived, even having to wait a turn for coffee. There were a few people there that didn’t look like doctors or military. Vivian guessed them to be Nostrum, She didn’t speak to them, but she made eye contact as a manner of communication. Simple acknowledgement. Eventually she’d get to know them. They, like her, looked as if they had no purpose. Lost souls trapped in a body. Void of any expression.

  Vivian debated on whether or not to take her bagel and coffee back to her room. She had less than an hour before she had to report to a medical unit, so she sat at one of the empty tables.

  She sipped her coffee and picked at her bagel, she didn’t have much of an appetite.

  “Mind if I join you?” he asked.

  Vivian peered up, the gentleman from the night before stood there. “Sure,” she replied.

  “Vivian, right?” He set down his coffee.

  “Yes, and I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name,” Vivian spoke softly. Her words uttered almost in a daze.

  “That’s okay. Gil.”

  “Gil.”

  “Not hungry?” he asked.

  “Not really. Plus, I’m having a hunk of tissue taken from my leg today,” she said. “You?”

  “Platelets,” he replied. “You got to do what you got to do, right? They have to beat this thing.”

  “How are they testing it?” Vivian asked. “Do you know? Are they sending it across the bay, or are there infected on this island.”

  “I would think the infected are here.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “I don’t know. It’s a guess,” Gil said.

  “Do you know what anyone else is having done?” Vivian asked.

  “No.” Gil shook his head. “No one is talking much. Everyone is really drowning in a pool of loss right now. It’s all too fresh.”

  “How about you?”

  “Me?” he asked. “I’m drowning in an ocean. But I can’t isolate myself, I can’t sit in my room and just think. I can’t. I’ll go crazy. I need to be around people, or rather people who are like me. Going through what I’m going through. They say misery loves company, I was hoping grief would be the same.”

  “People grieve differently,” she said softly. “I think I can’t even register my grief right now. Some moments are is so painful I can’t breathe, other times, it’s surreal because it’s so soon.”

  “I hear you. I do.”

  Vivian took another sip of her coffee and looked down at her watch. “I have to go.”

  Gil nodded.

  She stood. “We’ll talk later.”

  “I’d like that. Good luck.”

  Vivian hadn’t seen it on him the night before, but she certainly did in the light of day. He was as lost as everyone else. The bite mark on his cheek would be easier to hide than the heartache written all over his face.

  She’d make time to talk to him later. Even though it was probably impossible, perhaps together they could find some sense in their tragedy. Maybe he was right. It was better to grieve together than sit in a room alone wishing for death.

  Carrying her coffee, Vivian left the dining trailer and headed toward Medical Unit Four. In the parking lot of the resort there were numerous units that occupied the area. Each spread equally apart. Some were square buildings, pre-fabbed and probably erected quickly. A couple were trailers like the dining one, and a few others were buildings that were more like tents.

  The tent buildings were linked together with a plastic tunnel system, and she spotted workers in biohazard outfits walking between them.

  They were the first ones she passed, and when she did she could hear the beeping of medical monitors with the occasional cough.

  It surprised her. When she first arrived at the island she was led to believe it was indeed a research location, but primarily geared toward working with the Nostrum.

  Common sense dictated there was no way to test any treatment, or find a cure without having actual ill to test it on.

  How many workers, doctors, or ill were actually on the island? She couldn’t see inside the tents to know how many infected there were. She tried to peek as she walked by, turning her body back once more to look
.

  It was then, caught in her curiosity, that the ‘slam’ sound caused her to jump and spill her coffee.

  Slowly, Vivian turned her body toward the direction of the noise.

  She was close to an elongated trailer, one with a large window. Standing at that window was a later stage infected wearing a military uniform. His face pale with purple splotches. Blood laced around his eyes, nose and mouth. He stared at Vivian while he clawed continuously and adamantly at the window’s glass as if he could get to her.

  “Can I help you?” a male voice asked.

  Vivian was startled and jumped again. She looked to her right and to the young soldier wearing a mask. “I’m looking for Medical Unit Four?”

  “Last row, last building on the right.”

  “Thank you.” Vivian took a step and stopped. “Do you know him?” she asked, pointing to the infected in the window.

  “Yeah, yeah, I do. He’s a friend”

  “When did he get sick?”

  “Three days ago. He thought it was a cold.” he replied.

  “So did my husband. I’m sorry about your friend.” Vivian turned and walked away. Focusing forward, trying not to look at things around her, Vivian followed the directions and arrived at Medical Unit Four.

  It was a ground level, square building with small windows near the roof, with a single metal door. A small intercom and buzzer was next to the entrance, after setting down her near empty mug of coffee she pressed it.

  “Yes,” came Aaron’s voice.

  “It’s Vivian.”

  Following a buzz, the metal door slid open. Vivian walked through, the door closed behind her and she found herself in an enclosed four by four area facing another door.

  Immediately, a mist sprayed down surrounding her for a few seconds, followed by a blast of warm air, before the door in front of her slid open and she saw Aaron.

  “I should have warned you,” Aaron said. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, that’s fine.”

  The room was small and looked like a doctor’s office, a glass wall separated it from another room, that one just as tiny. From what Vivian could see it looked like a small lab.

  “Thank you for coming. I have everything ready. This won’t take long,” Aaron said. “I promise.” He handed her a gown. “There’s a small changing room over there.”