Wild Surge

by Tripp Ellis

  "I just spoke with Dr. Page, and she confirmed you are infected."

  My brow lifted with surprise, then I grimaced. I think I may have grumbled mother fucker under my breath.

  "Infected with dipshit-itis," JD said with a chuckle. "What were you thinking boarding that vessel?"

  "I didn't know the crew was dead or dying," I said, defending myself. "And it's not like you recommended against it."

  JD frowned. "It's not like you’d listen to me, anyway."

  I rolled my eyes. "Are you here just to harass me?"

  "I don't have anything better to do,” he said.

  "They say I might be in here for up to 3 weeks.”

  Jack's face crinkled. "Sucks for you."

  My eyes narrowed at him.

  "Maybe I can sneak in a pint of whiskey?"

  "Something tells me that kind of thing is frowned upon around here."

  "Hey, a hot toddy is supposed to be good for a cold. Something about the ellagic acid. Whiskey is a health food,” he said assuredly.

  "What about the surviving crew member?"

  A grim look twisted JD's brow. "I don’t think he’s looking to do shots of whiskey. And I don't know if I would refer to him as surviving any longer."

  I sighed.

  "When did he die?"

  "I think it just happened."

  I grimaced again. "That's unfortunate. He was our only shot at determining how the crew may have become infected.”

  "I can tell you this, something funny is going on. I did some digging. According to the manifest, the Intrepid is a British ship. But I made a few phone calls. Things don't match up. Apparently, the real Intrepid is currently off the coast of Japan."

  "You think it's a fake manifest?"

  Jack nodded. "The description of the two ships are similar, but not quite the same. I think everything about that ship is fake. They were trying to smuggle something into the country."

  "Well, if they were trying to smuggle in a pathogen, they may have succeeded," I said with a grim tone.

  JD shook his head. "No way. It's contained. You're the only living soul that has been exposed to what was on that ship. Everyone else had protective gear on. And you’re gonna be just fine.”

  There was that statement again. You're going to be just fine. I never liked reassurances like that. They were usually false encouragements said to doomed persons. I'd seen plenty of medics in combat situations tell dying men that they were going to be just fine.

  "Any word on what the hell we're dealing with?" I asked.

  Dr. Joanna Page entered the room. "I see you have a visitor," she said in a tone that was indicative of her displeasure.

  "Dr. Page, this is Deputy Donovan. A close colleague."

  The two exchanged pleasantries.

  "So, how's my blood work?" I asked.

  "So far, so good. Everything looks fine."

  "Are you sure he’s not brain-damaged?" JD asked.

  Dr. Page shot him an annoyed glance through her clear goggles.

  "Have you identified the pathogen?" I asked.

  She paused for a moment, then let out a heavy breath. "No. And that's what troubles me. I've never seen anything quite like this before. I consulted with an epidemiologist from the CDC. They are stumped as well. It has qualities similar to a hemorrhagic virus, but this is an unknown variant."

  That hung there for a moment.

  "You mean, this is a new virus?"

  “New is a relative term. It’s new to us. This could be a mutation of an existing pathogen, or something entirely novel.”

  "Is there any treatment?" I asked.

  "At the moment, we would follow the standard protocol for other hemorrhagic viruses. But in regards to a specific treatment, no."

  A grim silence filled the room, and JD’s eyes drooped.

  I forced a smile, trying to cheer up the atmosphere. "Well, I'm not infected. I’m not going to become infected,” I said, my voice full of optimism, trying to manifest my own destiny. “So, there's really nothing to worry about."

  "Exactly. You’re going to be just fine," Dr. Page said.

  I cringed again.

  6

  Every cough, every sneeze, every tickle in the back of my throat sent waves of dread through my body. Quarantined in this room and treated like an infected lab rat was enough to make even a healthy person sick.

  I’d been in for a day, and so far, I was holding steady. My temperature was normal, so was my oxygen saturation. But I wasn't out of the woods yet. I couldn’t remember the last time I'd been this sedentary. I needed to get out and go for a run, lift weights, do something! Anything!

  Teagan was looking after Buddy and Fluffy for me, making sure the little fur-babies were fed and watered. There was nothing to do but watch the news, watch soap operas, and screw around on the Internet.

  Two men stepped into the room, wearing protective gear. They weren’t hospital staff. I knew right away they were Feds. They had that demeanor.

  "Deputy Wild, I'm Special Agent Bradley, this is Special Agent Gibson," he said pointing to his colleague. "You were the first to board the Intrepid, correct?"

  I nodded. “You both know it's not really the Intrepid, don't you?"

  The two agents exchanged a glance, then said nothing.

  Bradley was short and stocky. Gibson was tall and thin. That was all I could really tell about them, except for their eye color. Gibson had brown eyes. Bradley's eyes were a hazy gray.

  “Did you come into any contact with bodily fluids from any of the crew?" Agent Bradley asked.

  "No,” I replied. “What can you tell me about the pathogen?"

  Bradley ignored me and continued asking a series of standard questions. How long was I aboard the ship? How many crew members were there? Did I remove any cargo or other items?

  The mundane questioning continued for nearly 20 minutes.

  “What were you doing when you discovered the Intrepid?” Bradley continued.

  “Fishing.”

  “Catch anything?”

  “No.”

  “Did you have any contact with any of the crew members prior to making the discovery?”

  I looked at him like he was crazy. “No. How would that be possible?”

  He shrugged.

  “And you didn’t know any of the crew members personally?” Bradley asked.

  I rolled my eyes. “No.”

  “What prompted you to board the ship?”

  “It looked dead in the water. We narrowly avoided a collision. My sense of curiosity got the best of me.”

  “And you’re sure you didn’t remove anything from the vessel?”

  I stared at him blankly, incredulous, my frustration growing more and more apparent. "I've answered all of your questions, how about you answer some of mine?"

  Bradley stared at me for a long moment. "What do you want to know, Deputy Wild?"

  "I'm concerned that this may be some type of terrorist operation gone wrong. Surely you two have considered that?"

  Bradley took a deep breath, puffed his chest, and put his hands on his hips. "I can assure you, Deputy Wild, the FBI has taken into consideration all possible scenarios. Homeland Security is aware of the incident. The CDC has analyzed the pathogen. We have concluded this was not a terrorist attack, nor an attempt to smuggle in a biological weapon. Our agents, along with Customs and Border Patrol, the Coast Guard, the CDC, and Health and Human Services have gone over all available data and found nothing of concern."

  The muscles in my jaw tensed, and my hands balled into fists. "Nothing of concern?”

  Bradley sighed and exchanged a glance with his partner. Then his eyes found me again.

  "What about the fake manifest? An entire crew decimated by an unknown pathogen? That doesn't strike you as a little odd?"

  "It's not an unknown pathogen. The CDC has identified it. It's nothing more than an influenza variant. The crew probably died from dehydration and lack of proper medical care."

 
My eyes narrowed at him. "Bullshit."

  "I'm not here to argue with you, Deputy Wild, only to collect information."

  "I hope you’re taking this threat seriously."

  "Right now, we don't see a threat. Except for you, of course."

  My eyes narrowed at him. “All of my blood tests have been clear to this point.”

  "Let's hope it stays that way."

  “I get it,” I said snidely. “This is some classified shit, and you guys are keeping quiet.”

  “Thanks for your time, Deputy Wild,” Bradley said.

  "If it's just a flu variant, I can leave, right?"

  The two agents left without another word. They were either ignoring the situation or weren’t willing to discuss it.

  Dr. Page entered the room shortly after the agents left.

  "Have you had any other symptomatic cases?" I asked.

  Dr. Page shook her head. "No. Just the man evacuated from the ship."

  "The FBI is saying this is some type of flu. They said the CDC confirmed the identity of the virus."

  Dr. Page’s brow crinkled. "I've seen a lot of flu viruses, and what I saw on the specimen slide wasn't the flu."

  "Are you sure?"

  She hesitated. "It's possible that I made a mistake. I don't want to contradict the FBI or the CDC."

  It was a political answer, but we both knew this was no flu.

  "When can I get out of here? I feel fine."

  "A few more days," she said in a comforting tone. "The incubation period for the flu is 24 hours. If you haven't shown symptoms in 3 to 5 days, you should be fine."

  "That's assuming it is the flu. Which we both know it's not."

  "I'm just doing what the CDC tells me. Look at it like a vacation. You get to lounge around, watch TV, and have people wait on you.”

  "No offense, but this isn’t my ideal lounge environment."

  She chuckled. "I'd worry about you if it was."

  "What if I want to leave right now?" I asked.

  “This is a public health concern. The FBI has left explicit instructions that you are not to leave the facility until you are cleared of any infection.”

  "In 3 to 5 days."

  "Yes. Then I would advise you self quarantine at home for two weeks, just to be safe."

  She made some notes in my chart and said she would be back to check on me later.

  I watched the television mounted on the wall. The mindless drone of a 24-hour news channel filled the room. Nothing was ever reported about the cargo ship or the dead crew. Nothing about the incident made the local or national news.

  The Feds had managed to keep this quiet.

  My phone buzzed with a call from my sister, Madison. "What's the holdup?"

  I took a deep breath. "Unforeseen circumstances have arisen."

  "What do you mean?" she growled. "You promised me we would have this deal done, and I would have cash in hand by now.”

  "I'm working on it.”

  She huffed. "I swear to God, Tyson, if you screw me on this deal, I will never speak to you again."

  "Relax. Everything's fine. You'll have the funds soon." I had no idea how I would come up with the funds to purchase Diver Down.

  "You keep saying that." She paused. "If we don't close the deal in the next week, I'm putting the place back on the market and I'm selling it to the first buyer."

  "After I get out of the hospital, I can make arrangements."

  She gasped. "You're in the hospital?"

  "It's no big deal."

  "What are you in for? Are you hurt? Did you get shot again?"

  "No," I sighed. "Nothing like that. I'm fine. It's just a precautionary measure."

  "Precaution for what?"

  "I'll tell you about it later."

  "Good Lord, is this another one of your clandestine operations?" she asked in a mocking tone.

  I started to say something, but she cut me off. "You know, I don't want to know. And, honestly, I don't care anymore. You’ve got till the end of the week. That's it."

  "Two weeks. I need two weeks."

  She let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine. But that's it. No more extensions."

  "Not a problem. You’ll have the money. I swear."

  She hung up, and I exhaled a deep breath. At least there was a bright side. If I had contracted the pathogen, I'd be dead in a few days and wouldn't have to worry about any of my financial issues.

  7

  "Check this out," JD said with a grin. He held up two tickets. “VIP passes to the Coconut Key Open."

  “So you want to sit around and watch a bunch of guys chase a little white ball?"

  "Premier seating. Access to the VIP lounge with complimentary beverages and food. You know there's gonna be a ton of hotties running around. Rich hotties. I could be a kept man for the right price."

  I rolled my eyes. "Doubtful."

  "Woody Cougar is playing. He's a living legend. It's a once in a lifetime opportunity to see the master of the game."

  "Woody Cougar has a home here, you know? He's out on the club golf course all the time," I said, deflating Jack's bubble.

  He frowned at me. "Yes, but this is an opportunity to see him in a tournament setting."

  "I could turn on the TV and see that every weekend."

  "I think your brain is infected. You’ve become quite the downer since you've been in here."

  "Excuse me. I've been cooped up in here for five days. What do you want from me?"

  "A little enthusiasm. A little zest for life.”

  I caved in. “Okay. Okay. I'm down. Providing I survive."

  "We can hit the tournament during the day, and the Fusion Fest at night. It will be one long party. The band is headlining Sonic Temple again during the festival, and you know what that means… groupies! I'm telling you, this week is gonna be off the chain.”

  “I said okay.”

  “Besides, you're gonna be getting out of here soon." Jack puffed his chest up, confidently. "I’ve got inside information."

  "What information?"

  Before Jack could expound on the details, Dr. Page entered the room. "I've got good news, Deputy Wild. Looks like your latest blood test is clear. There are no antibodies to the pathogen, and no viral DNA. I know you’ll miss us, but you're free to go. I'll get your discharge papers ready."

  I grinned and howled for joy. "Yes! What about the 14 day self-quarantine?"

  "We've used highly sensitive DNA testing on your blood. We looked specifically for this strain. There's no trace of any pathogen. I can say with confidence, you're not infected or contagious."

  "What did I tell you?” Jack muttered.

  “Any word on the Stalker’s victim?" I asked JD.

  "Heather Newman was reported missing a few days ago. The family ID’d the body."

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “Because I know you. You’d want to run out of here and start working on the case. I didn’t want to get you all worked up.”

  I scowled at him. “And you’ve spoken with the family?”

  "What do you think I've been doing while you’ve been sitting here on your ass? I've been out there working!”

  I rolled my eyes again. Jack's idea of working was moving to the cooler to get another beer.

  "What have you been able to find out?"

  "Heather was a sophomore at the community college. She lives with her roommate, Abigail Fountain, on Moray Drive. Got a boyfriend named Colin Everett.”

  "Have you spoken with either of them?"

  "I wanted to save a little bit of excitement for you. We'll do that when you get out."

  "Thanks for thinking of me," I said dryly.

  When I finally escaped the dungeon, I stood on the sidewalk and let the brilliant rays of sun bathe my face in its rejuvenating light. I’d been cooped up in that room for so long, I felt pale and sickly.

  I breathed the fresh air, filling my lungs. A smile curled on my lips, and I was ready to get back to my daily routin
e. I hopped into the passenger seat of Jack's lizard-green Porsche, and we sped across the island to Diver Down.

  I was sick of processed chicken with peas and carrots. I wanted real food. A greasy burger to fill my belly. An ice-cold beer to wash it down. I had all I could take of the reconstituted scrambled eggs, flimsy bacon, and stale muffins for breakfast. The containment unit rotated between tasteless meatloaf, processed Parmesan chicken, processed grilled chicken, and a hamburger that may or may not have been made from actual beef.

  We pulled into the parking lot and strolled into the restaurant.

  Teagan's eyes went wide as I took a seat at the bar. "Oh my God! You're out!"

  I smiled.

  She bounced up and down and squealed with joy. She ran around the bar to give me a hug, which I was eager to accept. But she stopped just short of throwing her arms around me. "Wait a minute. I'm not going to catch anything from you, am I?"

  “That’s debatable,” Jack muttered.

  I shot him a look, then reassured Teagan. “No. I'm certified disease-free."

  I had to admit, I wasn't totally sure about that. If the pathogen was a hemorrhagic virus, I was still within the incubation period. But I felt fine. Dr. Page had cleared me, and I was going to go with that.

  Something was strange about the way the whole thing was handled, and I was sure the FBI knew something they weren't telling me.

  Teagan flung her arms around my neck and gave me a hug. "I'm so glad you're okay!”

  Her steamy breath tickled my ear. The scent of her fruity shampoo filled my nostrils. It was a far cry from the antiseptic, sterile smell of the containment unit. She squeezed me for a long time, and I didn't mind. I didn't mind at all. Her body was warm and firm and soft all at the same time—all in the right places.

  The teal-eyed beauty broke free and started back around the bar.

  Jack's face twisted with disappointment. "What about me? Don't I get a hug?"

  She tilted her head and shifted onto one hip, her sassy eyes blazing into him. "You weren’t in quarantine."

  "So, what, I have to go to the hospital just to get a hug? Because if that's what it takes, I'll do it. I’ll go step in front of a bus right now.”

  She let out an exaggerated sigh and stomped around to JD. “You don’t have to get into an accident just to get a little attention.”