by Bobby Akart
“I think this mic is a little too much, considering the size of our group, don’t you think?” asked the President with a laugh. He had dressed in a suit and tie for the occasion but immediately felt out of place. This was not a campaign address. It was a conversation with his top subordinates about the future of America.
He removed his coat and tie before he stepped off the stage. He walked around in front of the first row and hoisted himself up to sit on the stage with his legs dangling.
“Now, that’s better,” started President Garcia. “We’ve had a rough few months. By we, I mean all of us in this room. I’ve not been a very good leader, which is part of my job. My judgment has been clouded by fear of contracting the disease, among other things. That has changed and I’d like all of you to accept my apologies for being a less-than-stellar president.”
“We’re with you, Mr. President,” responded his Secretary of Health and Human Services.
“Soldier on, sir,” added one of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
“I will, and thank you,” the President responded. “My daily briefings will resume and all of you will be a part of them as we move forward. In fact, I’ve asked Mr. Morse to make these happen twice a day. The morning brief will continue to focus on international and defense issues. The afternoon briefing will focus on domestic issues and the challenges we face in rebuilding the nation. All of you will be required to attend rather than sending a subordinate. Our daily routines are much different than they were in Washington. Coordination and transparency within the Executive Branch will no longer be compromised.
“Let me begin by providing you an abbreviated State of the Union. First, on the foreign policy front. I made the decision to launch the nuclear attack against the Islamic State to send a message, but more importantly, to annihilate the enemy. I realize they have foot soldiers and sleeper cells around the world. But we believe their leadership council has been destroyed, and hopefully, their will has been destroyed too. Further, if our intelligence is correct, sadly, their wives and children would have perished as well. This will have a profound effect on the enemy. If they react in anger, they’ll make mistakes and we will be ready for them.
“Second, while Russia and China have issued their—quote—strongest condemnations of the attack, it doesn’t appear they intend to start a nuclear war. I’ve spoken with both Presidents and assured them our attack was both warranted and a onetime occurrence. Let me recognize the Secretary of State and his department for insuring that cooler heads prevailed throughout.”
The group applauded as the Secretary of State nodded and waved his hand. The President knew the Secretary was one of the most vocal opponents of his decision to launch the Minuteman III. Recognizing him publicly was a way to give him credit for diffusing the situation while reminding the Secretary that the attack was a success.
“Domestically, I’m pleased to announce the safe-zone policy has worked with only a few exceptions. What happened at Fort Bliss was tragic and, in hindsight, avoidable. Tempers have calmed, potentially infected individuals have been quarantined, and order has been restored.
“Outside our military installations, the confiscation of private property, while unfortunate, has proven successful. Tens of thousands of community leaders have been placed under the protection of local law enforcement and the military. They will form the nucleus when it comes time to rebuild our nation. Which brings me to our final topic.
“Around the globe, the world’s population has dwindled to a small percentage of what it was before the plague spread. The United Nations estimates seven billion people are now infected or dead. That leaves seven hundred million who can be saved absent a cure for the disease. Other sources, namely world governments, estimate the death toll to be even greater with survivors numbering under one hundred million.
“I don’t want to come across as callous, but at this point in time, we have to focus on our own. I have no way of stating definitively what the population of the uninfected is in America. I can say we are going to use all of our efforts to find them. If the total is ten percent, as the U.N. suggests, then we have thirty million survivors to find and protect.
“The first challenge we face is where to protect them. The neighborhoods in the immediate vicinity of military installations like Star Ranch here in Colorado Springs have been a success. I think we need to start thinking bigger. Let’s consider finding towns that can be easily defended and cleared of the infected. Once these small towns can be identified as safe zones, then we’ll tackle the issue of finding the uninfected and relocating them.
“I’ve tasked DHS with creating a plan of identification of potential safe zones, as well as a method to locate survivors who have avoided the disease. The Interior Department will assist in this endeavor as well.
“Lastly, there are numerous minor tasks to be assigned to each of you. I know all of you have questions, comments, and suggestions. Rather than voice them now, please see Mr. Morse after this meeting and schedule a time to sit down with me on an individual basis, even if it’s for just fifteen minutes. I want us to be transparent, but we also have to be efficient. I will share my conversations with you during the morning and afternoon briefings, which will start tomorrow.
“Again, please accept my humble apology for the rocky start during these perilous times. Know that I have every confidence in your abilities to bring our nation back to her feet and follow our new policy of America First. Thank you.”
Chapter 7
Day Eighty
The Quarantine House
Quandary Peak
Barb was like so many family members before her, sitting by the side of their dying loved ones, sometimes for days, processing the impending loss of their physical presence from their future. Then, the ill patient suddenly rallies, becomes more stable and even talkative.
It’s human nature to grasp at what seems like a turnaround with a sigh of relief. Barb did not wake up on her own this morning. She woke up to Tommy’s voice as he chatted with Flatus. Startled out of her sleep of just a few hours, her first thoughts were that her husband was going to hang on for a while. But is he?
“Tommy, are you feeling better?” she asked.
“Yeah, a little bit,” he replied. “In fact, Flatus and I were just talking about it. I’m sorry we woke you. He said he feels about the same. I, on the other hand, have regained a little of my strength in my lungs, it seems.”
Barb wanted to be jubilant. She wanted to sing from the mountaintops and call everybody into the quarantine house to witness the miracle. Then her medical training took hold and reality set in.
More often than not, a rally such as what Tommy was experiencing was actually a signal death was imminent. When working with the Ebola-stricken patients in Sierra Leone, she had experienced this before. Some patients wanted to talk, as Tommy was now. Others simply became more relaxed, yet tuned in to their surroundings and their fate.
On rare occasions, patients showed signs of physical stability where hours before they seemed on the edge of letting go. The rallies were momentary, or could last for days, depending on the timeline of the disease.
As she listened to Tommy speaking to Flatus, Barb recalled the effect these rallies had on the loved ones sitting vigil. She remembered one situation in West Africa where a man had withdrawn into himself, shunning the family members who gathered near him daily. They’d accepted that his time was coming soon. Then the man appeared to recover. He was even able to sit up and talk with them. There was a renewed spark in his eye.
He told his family to leave and get something to eat. He even asked for a bowl of groundnut stew, his favorite, which consisted of chicken and vegetables, flavored with groundnuts like cashews and peanuts. During the time it took the family to walk to the local restaurant and back, the man had died.
Barb’s experiences with pre-death rallies in Sierra Leone had taught her to cherish those moments. She looked at it like a moment of clarity for someone who had dementia. A pre-death
rally was one last time to connect with Tommy before the end, which loomed large on the horizon.
She stood and approached his bedside. He’d pushed off the heavy covers meant to slow the progression of sepsis and to help with his feverish chills. Tommy easily lifted his hand and reached for Barb’s mask.
“I’d give anything to touch you one last time,” he said as he rubbed her mask.
Barb welled up in tears. “Me too, dear. You seem to be feeling better. Yesterday, you could barely talk.”
“Yeah, I got a good night’s sleep. It must be the mighty morphine.” Tommy laughed and coughed a little, which brought a frown to his face. The congestion in his chest was a reminder of the plague bacteria that invaded his body.
Barb was checking his vitals when she saw Doc Cooley position himself in the front yard where she could see him. He wisely didn’t shout to her, but he held up a ziplock bag with several vials, reminding her of why he was there so early in the morning. Doc Death had arrived and she didn’t want to dampen Tommy’s good spirits.
“Dear, are you up for a visit from Mac?” asked Barb.
“Of course,” replied Tommy. “Why don’t you run get her and bring back some blueberry muffins. I think I could have one today.”
Once again, Barb recalled her experience in Sierra Leone. There was no way she was leaving his side, especially to get food.
“No, I see somebody out front. I’ll have them get her so you and I can visit some more. You stay put; I’ll be right back.”
“Ha-ha, very funny. I feel pretty good, but I’m sure not runnin’ off anywhere.”
Barb hustled out of the room and went onto the front porch. She waved Doc over to the west side of the house, where Tommy couldn’t hear their conversation.
“How is he?” asked Doc.
“Actually, he woke me up,” replied Barb. “He seems to have gained some of his clarity and strength to talk.”
“Now, Barb, let me caution—” started Doc before she cut him off.
“I know, I know, Doc. It’s just a pre-death rally, which is why I need your help. Would you please get Mac down here as quickly as possible? I’d like her to enjoy these few moments with her dad while he is talkative. It’ll be a better way to remember him, you know?”
“I’ll take care of it right now. Barb, I have the, um, the medicine we talked about yesterday. If Tommy is clearheaded, perhaps it would be a good opportunity to confirm his wishes.”
Barb considered Tommy’s suggestion. She knew in her heart what Tommy wanted, which was why she’d asked Doc about their options. She hated to ruin their final moment with Tommy while he was in this short spurt of energy to discuss whether they should hasten his death or not. This was a tough call that required Mac’s input.
Chapter 8
Day Eighty
The Quarantine House
Quandary Peak
Mac and Hunter arrived within minutes after being raised on the radio by Doc and Janie. Doc met them in the yard and gave Mac the medicinal compound to be injected into Tommy’s IV line. When Doc had prepared the compound at the pharmacy, he found some written instructions as well as notes on what to expect after the assisted-suicide drug was administered. He provided it all to Mac in a plain brown paper bag, together with some new syringes.
Hunter promised to wait on her to escort her back up to the house. He gave her a kiss, a few words of encouragement, and dutifully took a seat in a lawn chair outside the screened porch. Mac suited up and gave him a final wave before she went inside.
She found her mother in the dining chair at Tommy’s side. He certainly looked better than yesterday. He immediately noticed her when she entered.
“Hi, dear,” greeted Tommy as she came into his view. “Your mother and I were just talking about the time we were stationed in Heidelberg, Germany.”
“You, you remember that?” Mac asked hesitantly. She looked to her mother, who shrugged.
“Of course. Barb had just taken over command of the 30th Medical. We went out to celebrate at a bräuhaus for some schnitzel and bratwurst. You insisted on buying a German dirndl to wear because you wanted to look like the Oktoberfest girl. Remember?”
“Wow, Daddy, that was a mouthful,” Mac mused. She approached him and touched his face. Even through the antimicrobial gloves, he was still warm to the touch. “Of course I remember that. That was the first time you let me taste a beer.”
“Yes, indeed,” he added. “You said it was yucky.”
“It was too strong,” said Mac. “Speaking of strong, it appears you’ve found your voice.”
“I got a good night’s sleep, thanks to the drugs.”
“He calls it mighty morphine,” quipped Barb.
Mac checked his vitals again. She grabbed the spiral notebook she and her mother had been using to record his condition. The vitals were the same as yesterday, only he was more energetic.
Mac walked around the bed and examined Flatus. She opened his eyes and mouth. She then examined his lymph nodes for swelling. They were located at the back of the leg, near the leg joints at the hip, and at the side of his neck. They appeared to be the same as the day before.
Barb watched Mac’s every move while Tommy appeared to remain in the euphoria of feeling somewhat better. The Hagan women caught each other’s eyes and nodded. Mac turned her attention to her dad.
“Mom and I are going to put this fresh batch of vancomycin in the refrigerator. Would you like something to drink? I could have Mom crush some ice and feed you chips.”
Tommy looked over at Flatus and smiled. “Yes, the gentleman and I will have some ice chips, please.”
Barb and Mac exited the bedroom and pulled the door closed, leaving a slight crack. They overheard Tommy speaking to Flatus.
“This is where the Hagan doctors go and commiserate about us, buddy. They’ll leave with a gloomy look on their faces, and when they return, they’ll be all sunshine and rainbows. You’ll see.”
Barb and Mac looked at each other and smiled, shaking their heads in disbelief. Barb couldn’t restrain herself.
“You do remember when I suggested the lockjaw option, right?”
“Hush, Mom,” started Mac with a chuckle. “I remember. I’m gonna miss his jokes.”
Barb took her daughter by the arm and led her into the kitchen. They put the vancomycin in the refrigerator and set the vials of compound created by Doc next to them. The two of them stared at the contents for a moment.
“Ironic, isn’t it?” asked Barb rhetorically. “On the left side, we have the possible cure for the plague. On the right side, we have the cure for the pain and agony. Frankly, I don’t know which is the right choice.”
“He’s improved, Mom. I think we should wait on the death option for now.”
“Dear, you know not to get your hopes up. You’ve seen patients rally just before death during your time in the field.”
Mac walked to the back door and stared off into the woods. Two deer were grazing on the uncut grass, but raised their heads and looked in her direction when they sensed her movement. She turned back to her mother.
“Doc suggested we talk to Daddy about the death-with-dignity option while he’s having this moment of clarity. What do you think?” asked Mac.
“That makes sense, but he’s having such a great morning, I hate to ruin it with talk of his demise. I know in my heart that’s what he wants, Mac. I wouldn’t have allowed Doc to go through the effort if I didn’t.”
Mac agreed with her mother, but she also recognized the clock was ticking. She opened the refrigerator again and stared at the vials of medication.
“Okay, let’s not address it. I say we continue the vancomycin and the morphine drip. Mom, I have no illusions as to what happens next. If he continues to rest, maybe we’ll get lucky and we’ll have another opportunity to enjoy him like this one. We both know the clock’s running out.”
“I agree, dear. Let’s give him his morning dose of antibiotics and painkiller. Maybe he’ll hav
e some more to say before he rests.”
Mac grabbed a vial of vancomycin and a fresh syringe. She and Barb started back down the hallway when Barb grabbed her arm.
“Wait, I forgot about his ice chips. Help me, dear. It’ll be faster to crush the ice together. I wish this fridge did it for us. We’ll have to pound it in the sink to break it up.”
Mac hesitated, looked toward the bedroom door, and turned to help her mother. A few minutes later, they returned to the bedroom.
Mac pushed open the door with her toe and immediately called out, “Daddy!”
Tommy was lying perfectly still, eyes closed, arms crossed across his chest as if he was hugging himself, his mouth gaped open, and drool was covering his pillow.
Chapter 9
Day Eighty-One
The Quarantine House
Quandary Peak
In the eleven days since Tommy had been infected with the disease, much had happened around the planet, but Tommy was the center of everyone’s universe at Quandary Peak. When Tommy had rallied yesterday morning, Barb admitted to having a glimmer of hope. They knew they were correct in their diagnosis, but perhaps the strain was different, or even the bubonic form of the plague. Maybe, as Mac suggested, the medication was working.
Both of them felt guilty for panicking when they’d come upon Tommy in the bedroom—sleeping. When you’re on deathwatch, your mind tricks you into false hope when there is a rally and confirmation of your expectations when your loved one appears to take a turn for the worse.
After Mac administered the vancomycin and morphine, the Hagan doctors returned to the living room and broke down emotionally. They cried for almost an hour, allowing their suffering to come to the surface. They took turns periodically to check on Tommy’s condition. Both felt a sense of guilt in doing so. Barb and Mac were truly on deathwatch now.