by Bobby Akart
Mac returned to the lab eventually and Barb returned to her husband’s bedside. She refused to return to the house and rest. After yesterday’s unusual wake-up call from a very talkative husband, she knew it was almost time.
“Barb, Barbara, are you awake?” asked Tommy, bringing Barb out of her slumber. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the morning light. Disoriented, she tried to remember what day it was.
Did I simply doze off during Tommy’s rally? Or is this a sign of improvement? Is that even possible?
“What? Yes? Good morning, dear.”
Barb had recovered the full use of her faculties and focused on her husband. He was lying awkwardly in the bed, tilted toward Flatus, who was also awake.
“Would you mind helping me straighten these pillows? I tried to prop up and got a little discombobulated. Would you please bobulate me?”
She tilted her head at him inquisitively. “Sure. But, Tommy, how are you feelin’?” She assisted him in leaning forward and she adjusted his pillows. He hadn’t been able to sit up in four days.
“Not too bad. I think I slept a long time.”
“You did,” said a bewildered Barb. This can’t be happening. Not two days in a row. “Let me check your vitals, okay?”
While Barb checked his blood pressure, which had risen closer to low normal ranges, and his heart rate, which was normal, Tommy had a conversation with Flatus. Flatus, who was normally quiet, responded with his own way of talking. Using his diaphragm to force air through his vocal cords, he created a variety of whining and groaning sounds, which he altered by moving his mouth.
Tommy mimicked the sounds and playfully patted the pup’s head during the entire exchange. Barb shook her head in disbelief. She took Tommy’s temperature. She looked at the first reading. Then she did it again. His fever had broken. It was still one hundred degrees, but that was better than the one-oh-two he’d been experiencing.
Nonchalantly, she turned away from him and beamed from ear to ear. Could it be that yesterday’s rally was not a precursor toward death, but rather, a sign her husband was coming back to life.
She didn’t want to get his hopes up, so she went about her routine. She got Tommy a cup of ice chips to share with Flatus and excused herself for a while. Since he was awake and feeling better, she told him she was gonna run up to the house and freshen up.
“Do you want me to send Janie in to watch over you guys?”
“Nah, we’ll be fine. Right, buddy?” he replied while scruffing on his pal’s neck.
“Okay,” said Barb, holding her excitement, and guilt, inside. During yesterday’s signs of improvement in Tommy’s condition, she and Mac had focused on what the medical science dictated to them in their training. Tommy was simply having a pre-death surge in energy. What they failed to consider as being plausible was that Mac had found a cure for the disease.
Barb quickly and efficiently removed her gear and walked into the cool, fresh mountain air. Despite being slightly dehydrated herself, the cool air forced her to scamper into the bathroom located in a workshop building.
Tommy and Flatus were on the brink of death thirty-six hours ago, and now, after continuous treatment with the vancomycin cocktail, they were showing signs of recovery.
Barb shuddered, but not from the cold air. Rather, she contemplated the magnitude of what was happening. Her daughter might have discovered a cure, and most importantly, she’d saved Tommy. Had they not administered the correct dose in time, even half a day late, Tommy would have suffered from septic shock, pneumonia, and organ failure.
She scrambled toward the checkpoint to find Janie. Mac needed to hear the news.
Chapter 10
Day Eighty-One
Quandary Point Checkpoint
Hunter stood watch while Janie headed over to her picnic table perch at the bedroom window. Barb took a four-wheeler on loan from Doc and rushed to the house to speak with Mac. Hunter resisted the urge to go with Janie and see Tommy’s condition for himself. He wasn’t skeptical of Barb’s revelation. She was levelheaded and not prone to exaggeration. Nor was she a person to allow her emotions to control her decision-making. Hunter believed there was improvement and he hoped for the best. The next twenty-four hours would reveal whether Mac had performed a miracle.
When Mac arrived, she drove down to the checkpoint and gave Hunter a kiss. They had a brief conversation about what all of this meant. While they spoke, they heard the sound of a vehicle approaching from town, so Hunter sent Mac scurrying toward the house to be with her father. He could handle the checkpoint alone.
The grille of Doc’s pickup appeared around the bend and Hunter moved to block him from approaching the house. With Tommy’s improvement, he wanted Barb and Mac to have time alone with their patient to assess his condition. Also, if the antibiotic concoction created by Mac was the real deal, they’d have to discuss what to do with this information. A cure for the plague created a lot of issues that Hunter preferred to address within his new family before announcing it to the world.
Doc’s pickup slowed to a stop. Sheriff Andrews was on board with him.
“Hey, Hunter, do you want me to park here?”
“Yeah, Doc. Come on out and let me explain, okay?” replied Hunter, who then waved to the sheriff.
Hunter turned to look at the house and then casually led Doc and Sheriff Andrews down the road toward the checkpoint. He regretted the need to be secretive, but thought it was best for the group to discuss the ramifications of the morning’s events first.
“How’s he doin’, Hunter?” asked Doc.
“He slept most of yesterday and all night,” replied Hunter. “He had another moment of talkativeness, but then he was out again. Barb and Mac are by his side now, just in case. You know, one of those pre-death rallies you guys talked about yesterday.”
Doc looked toward the house and then over at Sheriff Andrews, who frowned. “No, I absolutely understand where you’re coming from. We’ll give them time alone with Tommy. Based on the timeline, he could pass today or tonight.”
“Thanks,” said Hunter, relieved the doctor didn’t insist upon an examination of Tommy or question Hunter further.
Sheriff Andrews joined the conversation and changed the subject. “I know you’ve got a lot on your minds down here and probably don’t have time to search for news on the shortwave, but I wanted to let you know something major has happened.”
“What is it?” asked Hunter.
“Garcia nuked ISIS,” replied Sheriff Andrews.
“A real nuke? Where?”
“Yup. He blasted them in the mountains between Iran and Iraq. The word is spreading through the ham radio operators around the world. It happened four or five days ago. There weren’t any press releases or statements. I guess the President had had enough and let ’er fly. I say good riddance.”
“I agree,” chimed in Doc. “It’s about time we cut off the head of the snake.”
Hunter rested his arm on the buttstock of his M4. “I can’t imagine the entire leadership council of the Islamic State gathering in one place, or even in one set of mountains. But it makes sense. Prior to the pandemic spreading, ISIS fighters and their families everywhere were going into hiding. Their command and control apparatus went dark on the Internet. I guess they decided to hide in the mountains.”
“Well, we got ’em,” said Doc proudly.
Hunter shook his head. “I hate to put a damper on the enthusiasm, but the head of the snake you just mentioned is more like Medusa’s head with many snakes. The tentacles of ISIS stretch into every corner of the planet. They have active cells all over North America. If the jihadists went into hiding in the Middle East, they went into hiding here as well.”
“To do what?” asked the sheriff.
“Wait,” replied Hunter brusquely. “They are very patient. Their predecessors, al-Qaeda, proved it by waiting for the dust to settle after the first World Trade Center bombing. 9/11 happened years later, after we’d let our guard down. The jihadist
s will wait, safely tucked away from the disease, and come out fighting using different techniques and weaponry.”
“Like what?” asked the sheriff.
“They have a lot of options ranging from conventional warfare to biological and chemical options. The President shouldn’t gain a false sense of security from this attack. For every al-Baghdadi, there are a dozen more right behind him.”
Chapter 11
Day Eighty-One
Quandary Point Checkpoint
A gust of wind blew through the valley, carrying the smell of charred wood and smoke. This served to change the subject to the threats the men faced on a local level.
“Hunter, we haven’t had a chance to talk since the fire was extinguished,” said Sheriff Andrews. “Doc told me what you and Tommy did to help save his place and the lives of the folks up on Mount Argentine. On their behalf, and mine, please accept our thanks.”
Hunter shyly shook his head and smiled. Throughout his years in the service and as an operative for the DTRA, he was used to receiving accolades from his superior officers. Because his work was always highly classified, most of the people he interacted with outside the military didn’t know anything about his service to the nation. This was the first time a civilian had thanked him for his efforts.
“You’re welcome, Sheriff. Tommy and I were glad to help. I take it everything is under control now?”
“It is,” replied the sheriff. “We’ve had a few flare-ups, but the folks in town have been on the lookout by watching over the woods. Now their focus has turned to the how and why.”
Hunter nodded in agreement. “Truthfully, while I’m working the checkpoint at night, my mind has wandered from Tommy’s health to the events surrounding the fire. Clearly, this was the act of several arsonists, right?”
“No doubt about it,” replied Sheriff Andrews. “The fire chief and I have walked through the charred remains of the woods where the fires appeared to have started. We found empty gasoline cans at the three locations consumed by the blazes. He was able to identify the exact locations where the gasoline was used as the igniter for the fires.”
Doc Cooley repeated the fire chief’s opinion. “There must have been at least three people or groups to create the fires in perfect coordination. We also discovered trails that traversed the mountain just above where the ignition points were located.”
“Where do the trails lead?” asked Hunter.
“For the most part, they run parallel to the tree line,” replied the Doc. “However, at Boreas Pass, they run through the woods toward Rulon Snow’s place.”
Hunter motioned for the men to take a seat on the hoods of the vehicles creating the blockade. The sun was out in force and the temperatures were quickly rising toward the upper sixties. Hunter removed a couple of layers of clothing.
“I’ve heard about this character in passing a few times,” said Hunter. “What’s his deal?”
Sheriff Andrews recounted the story of the trial and the plea deal. He was able to connect the dots through his initial conversations with Snow and his recollection of the national news reports during the trial in Salt Lake City.
“Basically, they’re religious extremists no different than the jihadists who prey upon the weakness of others. Snow would send his sister wives into the Breck, seeking runaways or young girls who were disenchanted with their lives. We have no idea what he’s doing up there. I know his numbers have grown substantially and, oddly, unlike what I know of other FLDS compounds around the country, his people appear happy. In the years since his arrival, I’ve never had anybody escape to tell horrible tales like what happened in Texas.”
“He’s tending to his sheep,” quipped Doc.
“I’d be willing to bet his numbers have increased in the last couple of months,” said Hunter. “People were looking for refuge and safety, especially the unprepared. Consider the number of potential refugees you might have turned away at the Boreas Pass roadblock. Most likely, they didn’t trek all the way back to Denver or Colorado Springs. They might have turned to this guy, Rulon Snow.”
“I agree, and that’s why we need to take a renewed interest in his activities,” said the sheriff. “We started to look for a pattern in the disappearances like you suggested. In light of what we just discussed, these disappearances could have a logical explanation. Folks who were outside our protective perimeter may have sought safety with Snow in his compound.”
Hunter glanced at the four homes at the end of the Blue Lakes Road. Some of these people had been murdered while others had vanished. “Yes, or they met a fate similar to the residents who lived here.”
“That’s true,” started the sheriff, adding, “Although this is a little out of their way.”
Hunter thought back to his trip into town with Mac the day they had gone to the builder’s supply. They’d followed a rusted-out pickup truck filled with chickens in the back. When he had been investigating the homes across the road from the quarantine house one day, he’d found empty chicken coops behind one of them. He relayed this information to Doc and Sheriff Andrews.
“It’s possible that Mac and I were following the murderers that day. They were young men, dressed in pressed white shirts. I remember that now.”
“Snow’s sons?” asked Doc.
“Might be, but not his youngest. I had them locked up at the time, I believe,” replied the sheriff. He thought for a moment and then added, “Let me think on that and look at my records. I may have returned them to the compound before that.”
“Have you seen them again, Hunter?” asked Doc.
“Nope, just a couple of wayward hikers,” Hunter replied. “Sheriff, is it possible Snow, or his people, set these fires?”
“I believe it’s a strong probability. The two teens, the firstborn, as they’re called, are wild hellions. They don’t have to work in the Snow compound like the rest of the youngsters. He allows them to roam. I’ve picked them up on several occasions when they wander into town and get mischievous.”
Hunter contemplated this for a moment and stared towards Red Mountain. Now that they might’ve beaten the greatest killer known to man, the plague, was there an equally deadly threat, one born out of evil, a mountaintop away?
As his eyes slowly rose from the road up Hoosier Ridge, the faint, but familiar sound of a CH-47 Chinook tandem rotor helicopter approaching from the south grabbed his attention. The Chinook had frequently been used for troop deployments in Iraq during Hunter’s brief tour of duty there.
The sound grew louder, catching the attention of Doc and Sheriff Andrews, as well as two young men perched high atop Hoosier Ridge—Seth and Levi Snow.
Chapter 12
Day Eighty-One
The Quarantine House
Quandary Peak
Unlike the last seven days in which Mac had tethered herself to the lab at the house, she’d spent a considerable amount of time doting on her father. On her only trip to the laboratory earlier, she’d made copious notes on the condition of the deer mice. All of them had either stabilized or were showing signs of improvement. In order to continue the experiment and provide further confirmation, she infected three more of the tiny creatures with hopes of curing them as well.
“Daddy, I don’t know what to say,” started Mac as she began to cry for the third time that day.
“Okay, allow me,” said Tommy as he raised his hand toward Mac’s gloved hand.
Although the prognosis for her father and Flatus was good, she and Barb would continue to wear protective gear while in the house. The plague bacteria was on all the surfaces in the master bedroom and guest bedroom where Marcus had passed away. The bacteria’s normal lifespan outside a host was seventy-two hours, but there was nothing normal about this particular strain of Y. pestis.
“Please save your strength, Daddy. We have a long way to go before this is behind us.”
“Dear, I know that. I’m not quite ready to go fishin’, but I am strong enough to say thank you.”
&nbs
p; Mac interrupted him. “Daddy, that’s not necessary. I did—”
Tommy interrupted her with a wave of a hand. “Now you listen to me, daughter with the strong will, which must’ve come from your mother’s side of the family.”
“Lockjaw,” mumbled Barb, with a snicker. Mac stifled a giggle.
“Your mother and I have always been so proud of you and your accomplishments. You never gave up on me, or yourself. I firmly believe if any other human being were lying in this bed, you’d do the same for them.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” said Mac through her tears of joy.
He began to shed a few tears. “I only wish we could’ve saved young Marcus. He was such a sweet, innocent child. He deserved to have a full life. I’ve already had mine.”
She squeezed his hand to comfort him. Stretching to bend over and hug her dad risked tearing loose a seam in her protective gear. She spoke in a lower voice as she hovered near his side.
“Daddy, everything happens for a reason. His death and your contracting the disease forced me to work harder. It’s paid off. I couldn’t save him, but he helped me save you.”
Tommy nodded and squeezed her hand. “Mac, you begin saving the world one person at a time. You’ve given me the opportunity to live and now it’s time to save other lives.”
Mac wasn’t prepared to address the issue of curing humanity just yet. There were a lot of factors to contemplate. “Daddy, you’ve inspired me all my life. It’s because of you that I didn’t give up. We’re gonna focus on your recovery and making one hundred percent certain you’ve beat this disease. After that, we’ll focus on everyone else. For now, you are our priority.”
Tommy smiled and patted her hand as he leaned back against the pillows to rest. Before he closed his eyes, he added one more thing.
“I always knew you were destined to do great things. With greatness comes a tremendous responsibility to share your accomplishments with others. I know you’ll find a way to do that.”