by Barry Napier
And it was all just enough to make her think that somehow, things might be as okay as they could be in the end.
***
The interior of the first building was very much like the inside of a large tent or canopy—the sort of things outdoor wedding receptions were held under. But the cloth walls were reinforced with a tough plastic that had been sewn into it. Those walls had then been bolted into the ground, creating a rigid structure. There was no floor, just grass that had been pressed down by countless footsteps. Sitting in the center of the room was a large folding table, adorned with several laptops. Olivia tried to make sense of the set-up but all she could tell for sure was that a few of them were all connected to a large black rectangle that sat at the end of the table. Two people stood behind the desk, one man and one woman, both dressed in the creepy Hazmat-style suits.
At the back of this room, breaking through the cleverly enforced walls, two holes gave way to tunnels that were just barely tall enough for someone to walk through. From what Olivia could see, these tunnels were made of some sort of metal. She again thought of coffee filters, but also of the annoying connector pieces behind a clothes dryer that allowed the heat to escape.
The woman at the desk in the center of the room regarded them with a smile that was muted by the plastic screen of her head covering. “My gosh,” she said, her pitch a little too cheerful to be genuine. “I’m so glad to see all of you!”
She then focused all of her attention on Joyce, stepping around the table and kneeling down to meet her at eye level. Joyce backed away, still clutching Olivia’s hand as she stepped behind her.
“I know the mask can be scary, sweetie,” the woman said. “And I wish I didn’t have to wear the stinky old thing. But it’s to keep both of us safe. Would you like me to step back a bit? Is it scaring you?”
Joyce nodded as the woman looked up to Olivia. The look they exchanged was the sort that parents usually passed back and forth when they were trying to get a bashful kid to come out of their shell.
The woman backed away but stayed at Joyce’s eye level, still smiling. “My name is Samantha,” she said. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Joyce.” Her voice was quiet and almost distant. Olivia could hear her trembling.
“That’s a very pretty name,” Samantha said. “You guys have been driving a pretty good while, huh?”
Joyce nodded again. “It’s kinda boring,” she said. “And scary. Everyone is dead.”
If Olivia had any doubt that Samantha was genuine, it was dashed when she saw the look of absolute heartbreak on her face at Joyce’s last statement. Still, she moved on expertly and Olivia found that she liked the woman quite a bit.
“Things certainly are rough out there,” Samantha agreed. “But if you’ll let us just look you over and ask you some questions, I can make sure you get into a room with an iPad and maybe even some shows to watch. Does that sound good?”
Joyce nodded for the third time in a row, now slowly stepping out from behind Olivia. At the same time, one of the soldiers from outside approached Paul. He did so with a bit of caution, making Olivia assume they still didn’t quite trust him to play nice.
“We can play it how you want,” the man said, putting in a diplomatic voice. “But we’d prefer to have the men checked out in there,” he said, pointing to the tunnel behind them on the right, “and the women there,” he said, pointing to the left.
“Is a woman looking the ladies over?” Paul asked.
“Yes, of course,” the soldier said. His tone and facial expression made it clear that he was offended that they’d even ask.
“You good with that?” Paul asked Olivia.
“Yes.” She looked to Samantha and asked: “Will the three of us meet up after the medical stuff?”
“Yes. I don’t believe the shelters are large enough for all three of you to stay comfortably, but we can make that call when we get there. So…care to come with me, ladies?” Again, she was focusing mostly on Joyce, making sure to make her as comfortable as possible.
Samantha led them around the table and to the back of the room. Before they entered the tunnel, she looked over and saw that Paul was indeed following behind one of the soldiers. Another followed behind him, as if making sure he didn’t change his mind and try to make a run for it. Olivia then entered the tunnel on the left side of the room and lost sight of Paul. Her heart seemed to drop for a moment, trying its best to panic, but Olivia held strong.
When they entered into the tunnel, Olivia found that it was thinner than it had looked from the outside. She started to feel claustrophobic, but it helped to see that Joyce was looking around with wide eyes. As far as she was concerned, this was all just part of the adventure that Olivia and Paul had promised her all the way back at Little Learners. She reached out and touched the side of the tunnel experimentally.
“Sort of cool, huh?” Samantha asked her.
“Uh-huh,” Joyce said.
The tunnel was rather short, coming to an end in a room that looked much more stable than the tent-like entrance to the place. The walls were made of either plywood that had been painted white or some other building material she knew nothing about. It looked more official, more together. It was divided up by transparent walls of what Olivia thought might be some sort of fiberglass, reaching almost to the very top of the short structure. The sheets were set up so that there were five individual little spaces. Each space contained a chair, a small side table, and a tray of medical equipment.
Right away, another woman approached from the side of the room. Her uniform was slightly different than the one Samantha and everyone else was wearing. Hers wasn’t quite as bulky and the head covering looked more natural, almost like the hood from a bulky sweatshirt. It still had that same plastic face covering though.
“Okay, Joyce,” Samantha said. “This nice lady is Doctor O’Neil and she’s going to look you over while I check your mom here.”
“No,” Olivia said, a spike of odd shame slamming her in the chest. “No, I’m not her mother.”
“Oh, I see…”
Joyce seemed saddened at the mere mention of her mother, but said nothing. She was too concerned with the stranger giving her so much attention. She had stepped back again, shaking her head. Olivia placed a protective arm over her and looked pleadingly to Samantha.
“You can look us both over. She’s too scared to just go somewhere alone with a stranger.”
“I get that,” Samantha said. “But as you can see, the walls are all clear. You’ll be able to see her.”
“No.” It was a simple statement, but it made Olivia feel like she was spitting nails.
“What’s your name, ma’am?” Samantha asked.
“Olivia.”
“Olivia, you have no reason to—”
“With all due respect,” Olivia interrupted, “you have no idea what sort of hell this young girl and I have been through in the last few days. I don’t care if Dr. O’Neil has rainbows and pots of gold and free-roaming unicorns over there. You’re not separating us.”
For the first time since they met, Samantha’s face showed the slightest signs of frustration. “You have to understand that we have a job to do here,” Samantha said. “A very important job that we hope will help to curb or even stop this virus. We have certain protocols in place and we—”
“I don’t care,” Olivia said. She felt fury and fear thrashing within her like a dying animal and she could not keep it back. “If you attempt to take this girl from my side for so much as a single second, I will find a way to tear a hole in your suit. And if it happens to be somewhere around your face, I’ll scratch your eyes out. You will not take her from me. Not. For. A. Single. Second.”
Samantha raised her hands in defeat and then looked back to Dr. O’Neil. “I’ve got them both,” she said. When she turned back to them and headed for the closest examination space, the smile and joy was gone. “This way please,” she said with no emotion at all.
Ol
ivia followed her into the little rectangular space that had been created by the clear partitions. With only one available chair, she allowed Joyce to have it while she remained standing. Samantha took a moment to go through the medical equipment sitting in the tray on the little table. Olivia gave it all a once over and found it mostly harmless. From what she could tell, there would be blood drawn and a basic lung and heartbeat check.
As Olivia looked over the equipment, Samantha picked up a digital thermometer from the tray. Without a word, she scanned Olivia’s forehead, waited a beat, then read the results out loud. “Ninety-eight point four.” She then did the same to Joyce, no longer taking the time to look at her when she scanned. She did the same as before, reading the results out loud: “Ninety-nine point one.”
She set the thermometer down and then picked up an altered-looking pen, slightly larger than a typical finger-pricking device. Olivia then saw the tubing and the vial Samantha was collecting and realized it was going to be more than just a finger-prick.
“Right arm, please,” Samantha said. “Extend outward so I can see the inside of your elbow.”
Olivia didn’t want to do it at all because something in Samantha’s tone indicated that she was going to enjoy collecting her blood a little too much. But because Joyce was watching closely and she wanted to be a good example, she obeyed and offered up her arm. And as it turned out, she was right; Samantha looked her dead in the eyes, a tight little smile on her face as she slid the needle and started to draw her blood.
Chapter 9
“Ninety-eight point eight,” the doctor said as he set the digital thermometer back on the table. Paul knew he wasn’t sick but there had been a moment when he was expecting the doctor to read out a much higher number, somewhere around one hundred and four or so.
“No symptoms at all?” the doctor asked.
“None,” Paul said.
He watched the doctor with great interest as he recorded the temperature results into a little handheld device. The doctor had introduced himself as Thomas Jolly. He was a short, squat man but had the sort of presence that made up for his small stature. Paul had about six inches on him, but it didn’t feel that way. He was wearing a less bulky version of the protective gear everyone else was wearing, but the plastic screen around his face was pretty much the same.
Paul was sitting on a chair behind a transparent wall that looked to be made of strong plastic or fiberglass. He was already starting to worry about Olivia and Joyce, wondering how things were going over on the other side of the tunnel he’d come through. How a four year-old girl was managing to make it through all of this without becoming a catatonic mess was beyond him.
Jolly used a stethoscope to check Paul’s breathing and heartbeat. He was very mechanical about it all, only speaking when it was necessary. Paul did his best to get a read on the man but it was hard to do through the plastic screen in front of Jolly’s face.
“Now,” Jolly said, reaching for a pen-shaped device. Paul wasn’t sure what it was called—a lancet, maybe, or something similar. There was also a loop of tubing sticking out of the pocket of his little coat. “I’d like to get a few samples of your blood.”
“For what, exactly?” Paul asked “You can clearly see I’m not sick. And I sure as hell am not here for a check-up. So, no…you won’t be getting a sample of my blood.”
Jolly sighed and took a step back. He gave Paul a frustrated look and then turned to look behind him. There were two soldiers there, one of whom had come in from the front check-in room with Paul. The soldier seemed to stand a little more rigidly. Paul saw his fingers flex a bit against the stock of the rifle he carried across his chest.
“Mr. Gault, why are you being so difficult?” Jolly asked.
Paul hated the way the doctor was using his name. It made him wish he had never formally introduced himself. He supposed it came down to the sense of safety and relief he had felt around the military. But now, separated from the girls and getting a weird vibe from the armed men in the corner, that sense of safety was quickly fading.
“I’m not being difficult,” Paul said. “Not intentionally. But I see you here, ready to stick me and take my blood, and I’ve seen at least fifteen different armed men in Hazmat suits since we pulled up to the barricade. We weren’t given much of a choice but to come here with you and now you want blood. I just don’t know why. I need some answers before I just let you stick and probe me.”
“You came from New York, correct?” Jolly asked.
“That’s right.”
“So, then you’ve seen firsthand how fast this virus moves, right? You’ve seen how it kills and how quickly it spreads. As you can imagine, there has been very little that any medical organizations have been able to do. People die too quickly for them to get a proper study of the virus in a living host. So drastic measures have been taken. We, as a collective unit, have been tasked with setting up roadblocks to locate those that seem to be immune to the virus and to try to understand why they are immune. The quickest way to start studying that sort of thing is with blood samples.”
“How many others have there been? Immune people, that is?”
“From our roadblock, there have been three. Six including you and your travelling companions.”
“And they went through this little check-up?” Paul asked.
“They did,” Jolly said. “I promise you, Mr. Gault…we have only your best interests at heart. Once you and I are done here, you will be escorted to a room where you will be fed, clothed, and well taken care of until we can figure out some other long-term solution. You’re welcome to meet the three other people we have here. They’ll tell you the same thing: we are here to help.”
Paul understood the cause behind it all and agreed that it did seem productive and somewhat efficient, given that it had all been thrown together in just a few days. But there was still the feeling of being taken in—of being captured—that did not sit well with him. Once they took him to his room, then what? Were they prisoners here?
“After you and I are done here, what happens if I don’t want to stay?” Paul asked. “What if I want to get back on the road?”
“That would be your decision, of course,” Jolly said. “But based on what we’re hearing, the news is only getting worse. Have you heard about Richmond, Virginia yet?”
“Heard something about it on the radio,” Paul said. “But we didn’t really get details.”
“Earlier today, sometime just before noon, there was a nuclear explosion. From what we can tell, we were not attacked or bombed from afar. It was a bomb that was already in place, much like the smaller explosion in Destiny Ridge, Texas and New York. Only this one…yeah, this one was bigger. Nuclear in nature.”
Paul opened his mouth to call Jolly a liar, but he could see the truth in the man’s eyes, even through the plastic. The small explosions and the virus were one thing…but now a nuclear explosion? What in God’s name was going on out there?
“Once you and I are done here, you can do what you like,” Jolly reiterated. “But between you and me…I don’t see you abandoning your friends. And if you want to keep that little girl safe, do you think your best bet is out there on the roads of a country that is being destroyed from the inside, or here, where there’s a safe and strong military presence and plenty of medical aid?”
Jolly was right. Paul hated to admit it, but it was true. While there was something certainly off around this makeshift sanctuary, it was easily the safest bet for Joyce right now. Rather than saying anything, Paul simply held out his arm and flexed to help the veins pop up a bit.
“Thank you,” Jolly said. He slid the needle and then the tube into his vein and took a few small vials of blood. He then bandaged the pricked area with the care a pediatrician might show a spooked child.
“Now, do you mind if I ask you a few basic questions? This isn’t part of the process we’ve been using so far, but the fact that you came out of New York…that’s a new one on us. I don’t believe anyone
on this site has had the opportunity to speak with someone that came out of the core of it all.”
“That’s fine,” Paul said, “but I won’t be recounting every single event. That first morning…I’m still not done processing it. It was hell. And I don’t care how many guns you have in this place…I’m not delving into it all.”
“That’s fine. Just some very basic questions.”
Paul crossed his arms, looked to the two armed men in the back of the room, and said: “Go ahead.”
Jolly remained true to his word. He did not ask for explicit or detailed accounts. He asked questions about how long he thought they’d been in the exposure area, and how much of the damage he’d seen had been the result of the explosion and how much had been from the virus. He seemed rather surprised to find that Paul hadn’t dealt with any of the fallout from the explosion, which made him think that even the military was having to go on best guesses in regards to some of the details.
The only place during the entire line of questioning where Paul shared any unnecessary details came when he started answering questions about their time in Brownstone, West Virginia. He mentioned the cop shooting the sick man that had come crawling out of a parked car. He talked about his grandfather dying in the night and how the town had seemed like a totally different place less than twenty-four hours later.
When he was done, Paul looked from Jolly, to the two armed men, then back to the doctor. “I suppose you guys have some sort of way to communicate with other teams, right? You have a line on the latest developments?”
“Yes,” Jolly confirmed. “It’s a little delayed, but we do have open lines of communication.”
“So how bad is it now? How far has the virus reached?”
“The latest reports say it’s started showing up in northern Virginia. In terms of a northward expansion, it’s devastated everything and has popped up in Canada. The border between the US and Canada are basically warzones at this point with Americans trying to get in and Canadians doing what they can to keep them out.”