Containment

by Kirkland, Kyle

  Gary knew that the two dealers didn't really live in the abandoned house, although that's what they liked to tell him and Alicia. Gary had noticed them winking at each other when they told him and his sister that they slept on cots in the "back room," and that they were just poor salesmen trying to scratch out a living in the city. Gary also knew they drove expensive cars; once he was walking down Glaser Avenue and saw Abe driving a Mercedes, all decked out with chrome rims and tinted windows.

  Gary glanced at Alicia. Weed she used, nothing more. As long as they didn't give her any hard stuff, it would be okay. He always made sure she never touched needles or pills.

  Another thing that was cool about Abe and Jimmy: their stash of weapons. Not long ago Gary had glimpsed some of them underneath a mat at the house. Fierce-looking automatic weapons, along with hundreds, maybe thousands of rounds of ammunition. But they didn't ever use them, at least not to Gary's knowledge. The guns were just to defend their territory, to show people they meant business.

  Just like cops, Gary figured, who were conspicuously armed but rarely drew their weapons. He couldn't imagine Abe or Jimmy becoming violent, shooting people. They just weren't like that. They were too cool. Nothing wrong with having a stash of guns as long as you weren't a terrorist or anything. Sure, Gary knew that his father and mother—especially mother—and his high school teachers and at least a few of his friends wouldn't approve. But that was because they didn't understand; they just didn't get it.

  * * *

  When Loretta arrived at the wholesaler's, she found everyone crowded into the rear office and watching television. The mayor of Medburg was making a speech.

  "...only temporary," said Mayor Xavia Williams, a small black woman with streaked gray hair and big round eyes. "Please, this is no time to panic. I want to urge all our citizens to remain calm."

  "Yeah," growled someone in the office, "easy for you to say, sitting there in City Hall instead of in the containment zone."

  Loretta gasped. "Containment zone?"

  She was hushed. Someone turned up the television set's volume.

  "I am in constant communication with members of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention," continued the mayor into an array of some sixty microphones that looked like a peacock's tail feathers, "as well as people from the Infectious Disease Unit, the Epidemiology Study Group, and the Micro-Investigation Unit, which is currently in charge of operations. I have spoken personally with the director of the Micro-Investigation Unit, Dr. Chet Vernolt, and he is coordinating the operation with full cooperation of our office in Medburg, along with the Pennsylvania National Guard and the United States Army. I have also personally spoken with the elected representatives of our district, Pennsylvania's two United States senators, and the president of the United States. They have all assured me that the situation is well under control. I repeat, there is no need to panic and I urge all citizens in the containment zone to remain calm."

  "That woman's full of crap," grumbled the office manager. "She ain't talked to nobody, bet you." The pasty-faced man launched himself out of his chair, and his potbelly jiggled. He glared at the television. "That's why I didn't vote for ya, ya black bitch!"

  "Don't you use that kind of language around here," said a woman.

  Loretta leaned toward the manager. Two of my kids are outside, she was thinking, playing around in an epidemic of some sort. "What's this disease?" she whispered.

  The manager shrugged as he sat back down.

  Loretta persisted. "They don't know? Or you haven't heard them say?"

  "Nobody knows, Loretta. Least they won't say. I don't know anybody who's sick."

  On the television the mayor had been replaced by a robust, white-haired man with a large white mustache. "We at the Micro-Investigation Unit are fully aware of the inconvenience and disruption the quarantine will cause in the affected neighborhood. We, along with officials at all levels of the government, sincerely apologize for those of you who must endure this hardship. I wish to emphasize that the quarantine is only precautionary. It does not mean that everyone, or even anyone, in the zone has the disease. It only means—"

  "Liar!" said the manager. "They don't do a quarantine unless people are sick—"

  A red-faced woman turned around and yelled at the manager. "Quiet!"

  "—we do not yet know what sort of thing we're dealing with," said the Micro director. "It is because we are not at this time able to positively identify the disease that we feel it necessary to take what must seem to many people as a drastic step. But this is no indication that we are not in control. The situation is well in hand. There have been five fatalities—truly unfortunate for the victims and their families—but five is a small number, and there are no signs at the present time of increasing incidence of the disease. It is my conviction that the quarantine will last only a few days, and the disruption will be minimal."

  Murmurs erupted in the office. Loretta listened to her co-workers, realizing that they felt the same way she did—like she'd just been kicked in the belly. They were quarantined, contained, imprisoned. Whatever you wanted to call it, it was an outrageous thing to do. They were American citizens. They had rights!

  Displayed on the screen was a map showing the containment zone. The streets and avenues inside the boundary were familiar. Glaser, Adams, Kingway, Chestnut, Highway 63. A good chunk of Medburg along with some of the unincorporated part of the county, and a sliver of Montgomery County surrounding a short stretch of the Moshatowie Creek, totaling in all an area of about eight and a half square miles. The serpentine dividing line of the containment zone had been chosen to follow natural barriers, such as the copse of trees to the south and a park to the north. The division within Medburg ran along the interstate highway, a boundary that had for a long time neatly separated two sections of the town: a small section in which many residents had money and nice houses, and the one in which they didn't—which was the one in the zone.

  "Why isn't any of Madison Township in the containment zone?" asked someone in the office.

  "Because they're in Montgomery County," spat the manager. "You didn't think they'd include the private country clubs along Greenview Avenue, did you?"

  No unauthorized personnel would be allowed to enter the zone. Certainly no one was getting out, and as for getting in, who would want to? The television showed pictures of National Guardsmen standing beside a twelve-foot-high fence that had been erected in the early hours of the morning. Adams Street, thought Loretta. That part of the fence cuts across Adams Street.

  Several announcements repeated that the quarantine would only last until the "disease is identified and its characteristics are understood."

  "What the hell does that mean?" cried the red-faced woman.

  Announcers described the "rules of the zone," and text scrolled across the screen. In one corner of the screen a woman presented the information in sign language.

  "Food and water will be brought into the containment zone and distributed as necessary. Supermarkets and banks are ordered to remain open for business as usual. Prices of all goods and services will stay the same—no increases will be permitted, and any businesses that try to take advantage of the situation will be immediately fined and the managers arrested. The clinics will be manned not only by their resident staff but also by specialists from all over the country. Police will continue to patrol the zone and respond to calls, fire fighters will answer any alarms, the post office will deliver mail. Traffic is to be detoured around the zone in the most strategic manner possible. Anyone who lives or works in the zone but is not currently within may not return. Anyone who visited the zone yesterday on foot or got out of their cars for any length of time within the zone should report to the authorities at once. This is for your own good as well as for the health and well being of your fellow citizens. You will be quarantined in comfortable quarters. People inside the containment zone need not take any drastic steps but should observe normal health precautions, such as careful washing
and hygiene. Further details will be posted."

  "This won't do a bit of good!" cried the manager. "People have been comin' and goin' and have spread this thing all over the state by now."

  "Save your breath," said the red-faced woman. "How many people come to this crummy part of town unless they have to? Almost nobody. People lock their car doors and don't stop, they keep on driving."

  Mayor Williams came back on the screen. She assured everyone that there was no reason to suspect terrorists were involved, and there were no known factory accidents in the area. What was probably happening, she said, was that they were dealing with a new or unusual microbe that affects only a small percentage of people. They did not at the present time believe that the disease was highly contagious, but containment was necessary because of its as yet undetermined nature. She reminded the citizens of Medburg of the hardships their city had endured over the course of the city's long history, from the battles of the Revolutionary War to the shutting down of the factories and mines in the area over the last century, and the mayor was certain that the good citizens of the city would pull through again. She advised people outside the zone to go about their business as best they could, and for people inside the zone to sit quietly and stay inside their residences as much as possible. They should of course report all illness to authorities, although the mayor failed to specify exactly what symptoms the victims of the disease had experienced. On the screen a telephone number flashed. The mayor cautioned that people inside the containment zone would see, from time to time, medical and epidemiological personnel working in protective gear that looked like space suits. People should not be concerned about this because the suits were simply precautionary.

  The manager snorted. "Why don't they give us some of them suits."

  "Masks," said a woman in the room. "We should all be wearing masks and gloves!"

  "That don't matter, those cheap masks don't stop viruses. Only fools believe that."

  Mayor Williams once again asked for the forbearance of the citizens of Medburg. "The light of the whole world is shining on our city at this moment," she said. "Let us show the world how resourceful and intelligent we are."

  The television channel's newscasters then came on and began to summarize. This is not, declared a dark-haired anchorwoman, a drill.

  "No kidding, lady!" said the manager.

  The red-faced woman in the office stood up. "I'm leaving," she said. "I'm not staying around here."

  She was joined by most of the other workers. The manager made no comment as he watched them walk out. Finally only four people remained in the office: the manager and three workers, including Loretta. The workers who most needed the income, low though it was.

  "You's might as well go too," said the manager. "Won't be much going on here. Ain't nobody going to lose their jobs for leaving after what we just heard."

  Loretta gave a sigh of relief. She walked outside. The sky was mostly cloudy, fluffy white clouds drifting overhead. It was cool and pleasant. Almost impossible to believe that the city was in some kind of crisis. Everything seemed so normal.

  Groups of people collected together in the parking lot and on the sidewalk. Loretta overheard some of the conversations.

  "...go to the supermarket before there's a run..."

  "...got enough money? Banks may run out..."

  "Credit cards will still work, won't they?"

  "All of this just had to happen right before Fred and I went on our vacation...."

  Loretta got into her car. She yanked out her cell and punched Gary's number. No response.

  Pulling out onto the street, Loretta noticed that traffic was heavier than usual. To be expected, of course, right after the announcement. Some of the pedestrians walking along the sidewalk had handkerchiefs tied over their faces. Loretta thought about what the manager had said about cheap masks.

  Two blocks down the street something was blocking all traffic. An accident, taking out both lanes.

  Loretta felt a rising sense of panic. Got to stay calm. This is just temporary. That's what the mayor said, isn't it?

  It occurred to Loretta that she hadn't voted for the mayor in the last election. She hadn't voted at all, in fact. And now it seemed that her life, and the lives of her children, depended on the decisions that woman was making.

  Horns started blaring. A couple of people were milling around the wreck.

  Let's see how intelligent and resourceful we can be.

  Loretta looked around. Why didn't somebody do something? Traffic had backed up behind her. She was trapped. With trembling hands she operated the door controls, making sure all the car windows were rolled up and the doors were locked.

  Her phone buzzed. She almost jumped to the roof.

  "Hello?" she cried. "Gary?"

  A woman's voice answered. "Loretta?"

  "Who's this?"

  "Marta. Marta, from across the street?"

  "Yes," said Loretta, remembering. Standoffish woman. "Marta, hi. Look, can I call you back?"

  "Loretta, please—don't cut me off!"

  The desperate plea kept Loretta on the line. But she kept looking around. Traffic was getting more and more backed up. People were standing around, and the ones wearing handkerchiefs on their faces gave the appearance of hoodlums. A dust cloud drifted down the street.

  Dust? What was happening?

  "Loretta, please! Are you still there?"

  "What do you want?" said Loretta, irritated.

  "My dog. My dog is at home, I can't get to him."

  Loretta recalled seeing Marta walking a little beagle puppy every once in a while. That was how she'd met the woman, talked to her briefly a few times.

  "Where are you?" asked Loretta. "Are you in the zone?"

  In the zone. Loretta began to wonder how many times she would be using that expression in the coming days.

  "No," said Marta. "I'm in prison."

  "Prison?"

  "That's what it feels like. They're isolating us."

  "Isolating?" Loretta's sense of panic returned. She was distracted by the sight of a uniformed police officer walking down the middle of the street, headed for the accident scene.

  "They're keeping us in isolation. They won't let us go anywhere."

  "Who?"

  "People from the neighborhood, Loretta. People who live there or have been there recently. I got caught trying to get back into the containment zone this morning, before they made the announcement."

  Loretta watched the cop walk past her car. He wasn't wearing a handkerchief or a mask, and certainly not one of those space suits. She recognized him, he was one of the neighborhood cops. He calmly made his way to the accident.

  "Please, Loretta. I don't know many people on the street and...you seem friendly. Please, I need someone to take care of Alfin. Alfin, that's my puppy. A beagle."

  "Alfin," repeated Loretta dumbly. She watched the cop talk to somebody, apparently someone who'd been involved in the accident.

  "Yes. Alfin. Please! He needs to be fed."

  My God, thought Loretta. What if it'd been a child?

  "Will you do it?" begged Marta.

  "I...." Loretta saw the cop and a couple of other burly men push one of the wrecked cars to the curb. She tried to remember the policeman's name but couldn't think of it.

  "Please!" said Marta.

  "I don't have the key. To your house. I don't have the key, I can't get in."

  "Break in if you have to! I can't let Alfin starve!"

  The policeman and the men pushed the other car off to the side. A woman started directing traffic. She wasn't wearing a uniform but she seemed to know what she was doing. Cars started moving, traffic began to flow again.

  "The post office," said Loretta suddenly. "Send me a key by express mail. They said the post office will still deliver." Of course, that was the solution. And if it'd been a child in Marta's house instead of a puppy, someone would have done something. The car ahead of Loretta slowly moved forward, and she foll
owed.

  "Mail," said Marta. "Yes. I can do that. There was a postal clerk here earlier, I remember now. I...I'm sorry I got upset."

  "Don't worry. And if worse comes to worse, I'll get Gary—that's my son—to climb in through one of your windows. We'll make sure Alfin's okay."

  Loretta cruised by the wrecked cars—the accident wasn't too serious and no one was apparently hurt. She saw the uniformed policeman standing by the curb. She smiled and waved. He waved back.

  Montgomery County, Pennsylvania / 12:00 p.m.

  Gordon Norschalk saw the images on the television but couldn't force his mind to believe them. Fences, checkpoints, members of the National Guard carrying rifles. People standing outside the fence, looking in; people standing on the other side, looking out. A short distance separated them, but it seemed to be a gap as wide as the Grand Canyon.

  The newscasters droned on, repeated themselves endlessly, interviewed anyone they could collar. Everyone at Vision Cell Bioceuticals had heard the news and gathered in the break room near the lobby of the building. Even Burnett Sellás, the CEO, was there.

  Whispers went around the room. Do you know anyone there? Friends, relatives?

  "My wife's family lived there once," one of the scientists said. "They moved away a couple of years before she was born. Neighborhood was going to seed, I understand, and her parents wanted to get out while the getting was good."

  That was the closest connection of anyone in the room to Medburg and the containment zone.

  Gordon felt a deep sense of relief that people in the zone had not panicked. Even so, the images of the fences and soldiers troubled him. This is America, he thought; this sort of thing should never happen here.

  Burnett said, "What a mess. How many people are in the zone?"

  "They don't have an accurate count yet," said Pradeep. "But it must be thousands."