Death of the Republic

by Ken Ward

  This Matthew Gravenhurst that they say has this virus on board Flight 381 to Miami. Do not be fooled, folks. Do not believe them when they tell you that he is a carrier of this disease. For all we know he may not have the virus at all. For all we know everyone on that flight might have been injected with the disease on their way through security. We've shown you before that the Department of Defense has developed tiny, microscopic drones that can deliver payloads completely undetectable to the naked eye. They can inject anyone with anything at any time. Remember the case we documented of that young man in Iraq, in Mosul. Killed remotely, from afar, on the orders of the Pentagon. He'd been injected by one of these micro drones. It's happening, folks. We've been telling you to get ready. And really, for all we know this Gravenhurst character could be completely made up or a false-flag operative for the CIA. So, don't believe the hype ladies and gentlemen. Yes, this virus is real. Yes, it is spreading, and yes it is coming to a neighborhood near you, but don't you believe for a second that this just began out of thin air, because that is a bold-faced lie the media is trying to spin on you as they try to pull the wool over your eyes. Make no mistake, this IGNA-3 was created deliberately, and it will kill millions and the rest of us will be rounded up and put into camps and enslaved. Don't believe the lies. You are being lied to, people. Think about it. We'll be back in a moment.

  CHAPTER 18

  Five attendants in RepublicAir garb, complete with their masks and gloves, marched down the aisle headed straight toward me. My knees buckled slightly, and a screaming voice in my head commanded that I go back to the seat in the corner, but I didn't budge. The five, three women and two men stopped short of the end of the aisle and stared me down through the narrow doorway. I raised my arms out to my side. “What is this?” I said. “The goon squad, I suppose?”

  “We understand you're agitated,” said a male voice, “we would like it if you would calm down.”

  “All I wanted was something for my throat.” I pointed at the set of eyes I thought belonged to the flight attendant I'd yelled at previously without any idea if she was actually the right one. “She was rude to me.”

  “And she regrets that,” said the attendant. “Now, can we expect you to be less hostile for the remainder of this flight?”

  “Less hostile?”

  “You were yelling,” he said, “you were coming across very aggressively.”

  “That's your opinion.”

  “We just want to know if further steps are going to have to be taken here.”

  “Further steps?” I said, moving into full belligerence mode. “Are you threatening me?”

  “That's not a threat,” said one of the female attendants, “we're just trying to maintain some calm on this flight. You can understand these are difficult circumstances.”

  “Try stepping into my shoes,” I said. “You don't have any idea how difficult this is.” I noticed that the urgency in my voice had drawn some looks from the scattered few still seated this far back in the plane as well as some turned heads from the mob of those who'd opted to stand at the front half of the craft.

  “We want to do what's best for everyone on board,” the man said. “Right now that means keeping everyone calm. Including you.”

  “By force, if necessary?”

  “I didn't say that.”

  “Yes, you did!”

  “Sir, if you could keep your voice down. There's no need to yell.”

  “You're the one back here threatening me.” I was bouncing on my heels as I spoke and pointing at the group so hard my finger felt like it might fling off the end of my hand. “All I did was ask for a cough drop and that bitch couldn't even have the decency to look me in the eye. You're all just a bunch of fucking snobs who think that you're shit doesn't stink.”

  I had reached an incoherent pitch where emotion took over and rationality flew out the window. You could always tell when someone had reached that point when the pointless use of curse words and name-calling reared their ugly heads. “I'm so done with all of you assholes.” I kept ranting. “You think you can just treat people this way? Go fuck yourself!”

  One of the male attendants took a step forward. I stepped forward as well. “What?” I hollered. “What are you gonna do?”

  Two male passengers got out of their seats and walked into the aisle a few rows behind the flight crew. “I see you,” I yelled at them. “What's this, you all gonna gang tackle me? You're forgetting, I have the plague from hell, right? You come near me I'm spittin' in all of your faces. I'll fucking kill you.”

  Yep, we've leapt right from emotional venting to uttering threats. I was having a banner day. The male attendant stepped back. The gravity of what I'd just said hit the group and I could tell even through my blinding anger they were contemplating how to deal with this walking bioweapon who was refusing to cooperate. One of the men in the aisle stepped close to the flight crew. He didn't make any attempt to speak to them in a quiet enough tone so that I couldn't hear, so I heard every word he said. “I'm a police officer,” he said, “back in Arkansas. You give me a mask and gloves, I'll take this guy down.”

  His words sent a chill through me. My blood stopped boiling and weakness once again returned to my legs. I was all great guns when I thought I could wield power over a hapless flight crew, but fighting an actual cop? That wasn't something I was prepared for. My formerly shy, introverted self returned with a vengeance and I sunk to the floor, crying and wishing for the sweet release of death, or maybe even a well-timed coma.

  The flight crew seized upon my moment of weakness and pounced. They ran into the back and all five of them placed a hand on me. The man from Arkansas ran back into the room with them. One of the attendants pointed to the cabinet over the sink. “There's a mask in there,” she said, “should be a pair of gloves in there too.”

  The man put on the gloves and donned the mask. He looked at the crew who at this point had taken to sitting on me to hold me in place. “Question,” the man said, “you all have any zip ties?”

  Zip ties was the last thing I'd heard before someone stuck me with a syringe. Next thing I knew I was lying face down on a hard floor in a dimly lit long corridor. As my eyes began to focus however, and the roaring sound of airplane engines fully filled my ears, I realized I wasn't in a corridor, but rather in the baggage compartment in the underbelly of the plane. My hands were zip tied behind me and I found that it made breathing more difficult. I curled a knee under me and managed to sit up and prop my back against a large storage container. I looked to my left and the man from Arkansas was sitting there on the floor facing me, about ten feet away.

  “Hey,” I said, “can you help me?”

  “With what?”

  I held my hands out behind me. “This is really uncomfortable. Is there any way we could have my hands fastened together in front of my body instead of behind?”

  “Doubtful,” he said. His tone was dismissive.

  “I'm having a hard time breathing.”

  “Maybe you should've thought of that before you went off threatening folks.”

  “I was upset.”

  “No excuse.”

  “So, you're going to restrict my breathing over it? Why are you even allowed down here anyway? You're not part of the flight crew.”

  “They trust me, I guess.”

  “Because you're a cop?”

  “Likely.”

  “Are you actually a cop?”

  He reached into his pocket and produced his wallet. He opened it and revealed a gold badge.

  “So, you're not gonna help me?” I said.

  “We'll see.”

  If he was trying to demean me and make me feel like a spoiled child, he was doing a good job. I don't know if I'd ever had a lower opinion of myself than I did in that moment. Then my thoughts drifted to the smoking ruin of what had been my perfectly good life back in Boston and the guilt washed away if only for a fleeting moment, replaced instead by hopelessness.

  We sat for a few m
inutes there in the dark. Our faces barely visible to one another. I couldn't tell if he was staring at me or not, but I felt his eyes piercing my skin all the same. “Don't you have a cell phone or something?” I said. “Aren't you bored.”

  “I'm touched by your concern.”

  “Can I at least have my hands in front of me so I can use my phone?”

  “Why would I let you do that?”

  “Because it'll keep me occupied and I'll stop talking to you. I just wanna browse the internet.”

  “You sure you wanna do that?” He said. “The internet right now is probably all about you.”

  “I know that.”

  “And yet you want to look at that stuff anyway? Why?”

  “Better than just sitting here, staring at nothing, worrying about what's going to happen in Miami.”

  He chuckled. “What? You think they're gonna shoot you or something?”

  I couldn't believe he was making a joke like that. “You think that's funny?”

  “Relax,” he said. “Worst they're gonna do there is put you in quarantine. Me too for that matter.”

  “Didn't you read the news? There's no containing this thing.”

  “I'd heard that, yeah.”

  “There's not even any point in wearing that mask and gloves.”

  “Probably true.”

  “How can you be so relaxed?” I said.

  “It's my nature.”

  “Well, it's annoying.”

  He chuckled at that comment too. His whole nonchalance was irritating, it came across like a put-on. Really I thought he was likely a boiling cauldron of rage on the inside. “This is all just a big waste,” I said.

  “How's that?”

  “I don't have this IGNA-3 thing.”

  “You figure?”

  “Yeah, I think I just have a really bad case of the flu.”

  “Well, here's hopin' you're right.”

  “I'm more hoping that when we land in Miami they don't put a bullet in my head.”

  The man laughed. “I'll see about cutting you loose and tying your hands in front. Alright?”

  “Okay, thank you.” That made me feel bad for judging him so harshly a minute before.

  He got up from the floor and while at first he had come across as dismissive of me now I felt him looking down at me the way a father looks at his hapless child. “I'll be right back,” he said. “Try not to give yourself a heart attack from worry in the mean time.”

  “I'll try.”

  “Gotta say, kid. You definitely have a flair for the dramatic.”

  “Thanks, I guess?”

  He disappeared into the shadows and I drew in a long deep breath, feeling the congestion deep inside. I coughed as I exhaled with bits of phlegm landing on the floor nearby. I paid them no mind. Who cared anymore? If I did have the virus everyone on that plane was doomed anyway. There was no avoiding it. Staring at the darkened wall of the plane I contemplated how long I had left to live.

  CHAPTER 19

  BBC WORLD – LIVE

  BREAKING: IGNA-3 VIRUS REACHES UNITED STATES

  Host: Good afternoon, I'm David Finnock.

  Host 2: And I'm Georgina Rose. We are continuing with our live coverage of the IGNA-3 virus outbreak, in particular the discovery of a carrier aboard a domestic flight within the United States.

  David: For a closer look at the response to this outbreak within America's borders, we have this report from BBC World's Washington correspondent, Sherry Brown.

  Sherry Brown: They've stepped up security around government buildings and landmarks throughout the nation's capital as public alarm grows over the worst viral outbreak potentially in human history. With concern that this health crisis is spinning out of control, the White House, including the President, are holding emergency meetings – they could declare a national health emergency – imposing travel bans and border controls on known effected ports of entry, transport stations and instituting virus checkpoints in effected states and counties. But some say more should have been done earlier. Still, the government says it is in control of the situation. The executive branch has instructed the FAA to suspend all flights to and from the island of Bermuda for a period of one month and is considering doing the same for all flights to and from Europe. In the meantime, officials at the White House are saying that the government is monitoring the situation very closely and the President is expected to address the nation soon. Sherry Brown, BBC News.

  WHITE HOUSE – OVAL OFFICE

  President Frank Howell sat reading a briefing at his desk. A knock came at the door before the door opened slightly and the White House Chief of Staff, Rick Saunders stuck his head through.

  “Yes, Rick?” The President said, “what is it?”

  “Grady's here, sir.”

  “Terrific, send him in. I want you in on this too, alright?”

  “Yes, Mr. President.”

  Grady Marks, the Secretary for Health and Human Services entered the Oval Office along with Rick. Rick closed the door behind them. President Howell rose from his desk and buttoned his jacket.

  “Mr. President,” Grady said, “always a pleasure.” The two men shook hands. President Howell walked around his desk and motioned for the two men to sit on the sofa in the middle of the room. He sat in one of the elegant armchairs across from them.

  “Tell me,” Howell said. “What are you hearing out there, Grady?”

  Grady crossed his legs and clasped his hands over his knee. “It isn't good, Mr. President, I won't lie to you. I assume you've watched some of the coverage?”

  “I have,” Howell said. “Tell me where we are with containment measures.”

  “Unfortunately, and it pains me very much to say this to you, sir, but we have no way – no means or methods of containing this virus.”

  “None?” Rick asked.

  “Not as of yet, no.”

  “That isn't good,” Howell said. “I know you have some of your best people on this, isn't that right?”

  “Of course, Mr. President. We're working very hard with Daniel at the Healthcare Alliance, and I'm sure you've spoken with Juanita at the CDC.”

  “Juanita's a dear friend of mine,” Howell said. “Yes, we've talked. She says the same as you.”

  “We need to formulate a plan, first and foremost,” Rick said. “Grady, we were hoping to hear better news.”

  “I regret the fact that I don't.”

  “Yes,” Howell said, “this is all a shame. It's all just sad. Scary even. How are we going to get a hold on this?”

  “Unfortunately, Mr. President, there doesn't appear to be any way. At least, not right now.”

  “So,” Rick said, “what do you suggest?”

  “I think the President should, when he speaks with the nation tonight, he should project calm.”

  “That goes without saying,” Rick said. “But in terms of our response? Our efforts to quarantine?”

  “That's just it,” Grady said, “there is no way to contain this thing.”

  “So, the flight with the kid, to Miami,” Howell said, “what are we doing there?”

  “It's slated to land in another hour or so,” Grady said. “We have our teams ready on the ground there in South Florida. But I have to be honest, I don't think it's going to do any good. And we're risking the lives of our personnel there who will come into contact with this carrier.”

  “So, it's bad news,” Howell said, applying lip balm to his chapped lips. “Any way you slice it. Bad, bad news.”

  “Yes, Mr. President,” Grady said. “I'll keep working on it.”

  Rick and Grady stood up from the sofa. Howell rose from his chair. The men exchanged handshakes and Rick walked Grady over to the exit. With Grady out of the room, Rick closed the door and walked back to the center of the room where the President held the back of the chair while staring at the Presidential seal on the carpet. “I don't like this, Rick. Not one bit.”

  “Understandable, Mr. President. It's a terrible
situation.”

  “My approval ratings are going to be through the floor on this.”

  “Governor Paulson hasn't helped,” Rick said.

  “He's a lunatic,” Howell said. “Always has been. What's he want? Let me guess, more emergency funding?”

  “He's already declared a state of emergency there.”

  “Massachusetts has been electing Democrats for how long?” Howell said.

  “Centuries it feels like.”

  “That whole state is full of morons. I declare all of Massachusetts its own special state of emergency. It's a shame they're even part of the union,” Howell chuckled at his own comment.

  “What do you want to say to Paulson?”

  “I want to tell him to stick it. You don't see Florida crying for help. They're the one's receiving this kid.”

  “Governor Travers has been a key ally for us. He knows better. He knows we need favorable publicity on this.”

  “Yeah, Bill's a good one. You think he's worried about his people getting sick.”