Chang opened it. A golden Westfield Police Department badge on one side, David’s police department ID card on the other.
“Three NevoTech employees, a Homeland Security agent, a local cop and his son. Makes a respectable group.”
“I don’t know about this,” said Jack Harper. “Why don’t we stash the weapons in a bathroom or something and get them later?”
“Not happening,” said Larsen before lifting his rifle. “This is the only thing standing between me and whatever is out there.”
“Aside from an eight-foot iron fence,” said Jack Harper. “Plus a reinforced building.”
“Let me rephrase that. This is the only thing I trust that’s standing between me and whatever’s out there.”
“Us and whatever’s out there,” said David.
“Right. Us,” said Larsen, giving David an approving nod. “Plus we have no idea if the rest of the perimeter is fully intact.”
“And we’ve all seen The Walking Dead. They always get in,” said Joshua Olson.
The group simultaneously nodded, like they all knew what David’s teenage son was talking about.
“I’m sorry,” said Chang. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“You’ve never heard of The Walking Dead?” said Larsen, winking at the group. “Jesus. Even I’ve heard of The Walking Dead, and I don’t even watch TV.”
“It’s a zombie show. A little too scary for me,” she said, sharing a grimace. “At least it used to be.”
“Interesting,” said Chang. “Unfortunately, what we’re facing here is far more insidious than the mythical zombie. In many cases, infection won’t be obvious.”
“Like when they run at you with a machete?” said David, weakly chuckling at his joke.
“Exactly. If my suspicions are correct, temporal lobe damage caused by this virus could run the gamut of behaviors, from simple confusion and disorientation all the way to the run at you with a machete level.”
“Or the shoot at you from a window level,” said Larsen.
“That’s the intriguing part,” said Chang.
“I’d call it terrifying,” said Emma.
“Same thing at this point,” said Chang. “New behaviors not previously observed in patients infected with similar viruses. Working together is another example. A mob rush is one thing. Timing an attack is another.”
“Felt like a bum rush to me,” said David.
“It was and it wasn’t,” said Larsen, nodding at Chang. “Right?”
“Most of the people had clearly lost any sense of inhibition and attacked on sight, but a small percentage appeared to have varying degrees of higher-level functioning.”
“What does that mean for us?” said Jack.
“It means you shouldn’t make any assumptions out there,” said Chang. “I think it’s fair to say that the vast majority of infected will show obvious and outward signs of a problem. Torn clothing. Dried bloodstains. Weapons. Disheveled appearance. The longer they’re out there, the clearer it will become. But some won’t be so easy to detect.”
“What about in here?” said Emma.
“We keep our distance from anyone inside,” said Larsen. “And our weapons close by.”
“I guess that’s all we can do,” said Chang, stepping through the open door. “I know where we are. The security hub is just a few more doors away. There should be a break room or lounge right before that, where Larsen and the Olsons can wait. They have some nice vending machines in the lounges.”
“I didn’t bring any cash,” said Larsen. “Or a wallet.”
“They take credit cards,” said Chang.
“I’ll spot you,” said David. “My guess is you’re good for it. If we survive.”
“I’m a lot more interested in taking care of this gunshot,” said Larsen. “I’m bleeding, in case nobody noticed.”
“We can head to medical after I square things away with security,” said Chang. “Maybe the cafeteria after that if it’s not too crowded.”
“No cafeteria. Vending machines will have to do,” said Larsen. “We need to avoid contact with other employees. On top of the obvious reasons, we can’t afford to add anyone to this group and expect to fly out of here.”
“The vending machines have sushi,” said Emma. “At least they do in my building.”
“Sounds like we’ll survive,” said Larsen, patting Chang on the shoulder. “As long as I don’t bleed to death.”
“Are you bleeding?” said David, grinning.
“Just a little,” said Larsen.
“We’ll be right back,” said Chang. “Then we’ll head straight to medical.”
Chapter 7
Emma Harper got an uneasy feeling as soon as she stepped through the door leading to the security area. Three security officers outfitted like riot police approached them immediately, holding rifles similar to Larsen’s. They kept their weapons pointed down, but the nervous looks on their partially hidden faces gave her the sinking feeling that they would shoot first and ask questions later. Chang pushed in front of her.
“Gentlemen, I’m Dr.—”
“We’ll get to that in a minute,” said one of the security officers. “Close the door behind you and don’t take another step.”
Emma raised her hands slowly, her husband and Chang doing the same a moment later.
“We’re not infected,” said Chang.
“One thing at a time,” said the officer. “Where did the other three members of your party go?”
“How did you—”
“We registered your access through Gate 15,” said the guard. “And every door after that. Where are the armed members of your team?”
“The employee lounge a few doors back,” said Chang. “We thought it would be better to keep the weapons out of sight until I could explain what happened.”
“We almost got killed out there,” said Emma. “We’re all NevoTech employees.”
“Emma Harper. Jack Harper. Dr. Eugene Chang,” said the officer. “Facial recognition confirmed your identities. I’m far more concerned with the others.”
“May I show you something?” said Chang. “Two of the three people back in the lounge are law enforcement officers. One is a federal agent with Homeland Security. The other is a local police officer. I have their badges. The police officer’s son is the third.”
“Are any of you carrying a weapon?” said the officer.
“I have a revolver tucked into my waistband,” said Jack. “Right hip. My right.”
Emma sensed motion in her peripheral vision and turned her head in time to see another body-armor-clad officer appear directly to their right, near the corner of the room. Unlike the other guards, he pointed his rifle directly at them.
“Dr. Chang, walk forward until I tell you to stop. Everyone else remains in place with their hands held high.”
Chang complied, stopping when directed.
“Slowly retrieve and place their badges on the floor at your feet. Raise your hands when you’re done,” said the officer. “No fast movements.”
One of the guards in the group raised his rifle, pointing it at Chang. NevoTech must have seen some problems already. The guards weren’t taking any chances. When Chang finished placing the badges on the floor, the guard instructed him to step backwards. The third guard quickly grabbed the badges, handing them to the leader, who took a few moments to examine them.
“Stay right there,” he said.
“Where is he going?” said Jack.
“Jack,” said Emma, trying to quiet him.
“What?” said her husband.
“You can talk,” said the guard before disappearing behind a secure-looking door. “Just don’t move.”
They spent the next few minutes in silence, nobody keen to talk with guns pointed at them. When the security officer returned, he signaled for the other guards to stand down.
“Everyone checks out. Sorry about the drama,” he said, returning the law enforcement badges. “Why don’
t you grab your friends, and we’ll check your temperatures before we head to the food court. We do a temperature check every four hours, just in case. Can’t be too careful. We’ve had a few cases of the infection develop during the night.”
“I’ll grab them,” said Chang. “What about the weapons?”
“I’m a little leery about mixing weapons with the employee population,” he said. “But we are talking a federal agent and a police officer—so I don’t see a problem.”
“Thank you,” said Chang. “Be right back.”
“Oh, Dr. Chang? You’ll need this,” said the officer, offering him a security badge. “This gives you access to all rooms in this building except the security hub, plus any areas you were cleared to enter under your previous clearance. I have passes for everyone else, including the nonemployees.”
“Perfect,” said Chang, disappearing through the door.
He returned less than a minute later with the rest of their bedraggled crew. Larsen handed Chang the spare rifle, leaving Emma wishing she and her husband hadn’t left their weapons on the ground outside the gate turnstile. They’d likely need those when they returned to the plane later tonight, if they even left. Things seemed to be under control on the NevoTech campus.
“Now that we’re all here,” said the security officer. “I’m Dan Howard, head of NevoTech tactical security. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take your temperatures.”
Emma nodded, along with the rest of them, and one of Howard’s security officers started moving among them with a digital thermometer, pressing it against each of their foreheads.
Larsen scanned the security team and smiled. “Maybe this is the safest place for us.”
“I didn’t know we had anything like this,” said Chang.
“Nobody knows,” said Howard. “We’re entirely invisible to the employee population.”
“How big is your team?” said Larsen.
“When fully staffed, a four-person team rotates through the research cluster twenty-four hours a day, three hundred and sixty-five days a year. A second rotating team is situated here during working hours.”
“They’re all normal,” said the security officer with the thermometer.
“That’s great news,” said Howard.
“I mean now?” said Larsen. “How many do you have on the tactical team now?”
“You’re looking at it,” said Howard.
“Shit,” muttered Larsen. His smile evaporated.
“It’s not as bad as you think. I have a dozen or so security officers positioned in the food court area, where we keep the entire evacuee population. Everyone is in one place, so we can focus our limited security resources on their protection. I also have three two-person teams roaming the campus perimeter, looking for external problems, and a three-guard detail at the research center. We’ve cleared this entire building. Easier to detect a breach that way. Anything moving outside of the food court or medical is considered a potential threat until proven otherwise. We’ve been watching your group since it arrived at the gate.”
“We could have used a little help,” said Larsen.
“It would have been over by the time we arrived, exposing us to gunfire,” said Howard. “We’ve been down that road before—unsuccessfully. I cut my losses at two security officers. One killed. One lying in medical with a bullet lodged in his thigh.”
“Sorry,” said Larsen. “It’s crazy out there.”
“Have any of the buildings been breached?” said Chang.
“No. But we’ve had a few outer perimeter breaches. Given what we’ve seen outside, it’s only a matter of time before one of those mobs gets inside the fence. Compartmentalizing in one place is the only way we can protect this many people.”
“How many people are here?” said Jack.
“Two hundred and thirty-eight. Employees and family. Some friends. We averaged about ten to fifteen arrivals an hour during daylight hours and the early evening. That slowed to two or three an hour until…” he said, uncomfortably glancing at the guard next to him. “You’re the first group to make it inside the gates since around two in the morning.”
Emma caught his meaning immediately.
“How many have tried?” she said, not sure she wanted to know the answer.
“Fifty or so, from what we can tell,” said Howard. “Most of them never made it close to one of the gates.”
“Without these,” said Larsen, lifting his rifle, “we would have joined them.”
“We barely made it with the rifles,” said David.
“Perimeter sentries have reported sustained automatic fire throughout the night and heavily armed helicopters passing over the city,” said Howard. “My guess is the National Guard will clear the city by the end of the day.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” said David. “They’ve set up two federal quarantine boundaries. The National Guard is set up along Interstate 465 around the city. The other is set about ten to fifteen miles beyond the interstate—in every direction. The 10th Mountain Division has been called in for that one.”
“Based on what I know about this kind of emergency-response scenario, the government will initially focus on quarantine,” said Chang. “They won’t clear the city until they are one hundred percent certain that the virus has been contained. In a case like this, we could be talking weeks.”
“Shit,” said Howard. “What the hell happened out there? First we heard it was a pandemic flu, but that doesn’t come close to explaining what we’ve seen.”
“Bioweapon. Terrorist attack. It’s a long story,” said Larsen. “Which I’m sure Dr. Chang would be happy to shed some light on—after I get some medical attention.”
The tactical officers shared uncomfortable looks that Emma immediately deciphered. Until just now, they thought this was a short-term problem and that they’d be home with their families by tomorrow at the latest. Possibly even tonight.
“Let’s keep this under wraps for now. All of our families are safe,” said Howard.
“Stuck inside the secondary quarantine boundary,” said one of the officers.
“Things are relatively calm in the suburbs,” said David. “Most of the violence is within families, which I know doesn’t sound good, but as long as none of your family members are infected, they should be fine.”
“And none of our families showed any signs of fever before we lost communications,” said Howard before turning to Larsen. “Let’s get you to medical. It’s close to the food court. We can get the rest of you something to eat.”
“I think we might be better off keeping our distance from the rest of the evacuees. We won’t be staying very long,” said Larsen. “In fact, a few of us will be heading back out into the city as soon as I clean this up and apply a compress.”
“What? Wait. Back out there?” said Howard before shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Neither do I, but this is going to require a little more than a compress,” said Larsen, pointing at his leg wound. “Dr. Chang is in contact with an emergency room doctor holed up a few blocks from here. My plan is to bring her here.”
Howard considered Larsen’s words for a moment.
“Man, I hate to sound excited about sending you back out there, but we could really use a doctor here. Especially an ER doctor,” said Howard. “At least a quarter of the people here are injured—some quite severely. We have some nurses in the group that are doing one hell of a job keeping the wounded stable, but the most critical patients are running out of time. We looked into transporting a few of them to one of the hospitals, but the emergency rooms have stopped accepting patients. I’d be willing to come with you.”
“And I’d be happy to take you up on that offer,” said Larsen. “If all goes well, you should have a doctor on staff within an hour.”
“I’ll go, too,” said the youngest-looking security officer.
“I appreciate the offer, Mitch, but the tactical team can’t afford to lose more than on
e officer,” said Howard.
“Count me in,” said David, immediately turning to his son. “Don’t even think about it. You’re staying right here.”
“Come on, Dad,” said Joshua. “I can handle myself.”
“Josh, you’ve handled yourself extremely well tonight, but three is the best number for this. Fewer moving parts and enough firepower to get us out of a sticky situation.”
“You can barely run,” said David’s son.
“I can run if I need to,” said Larsen. “And I make up for any loss of speed with my shooting. I’ll get your dad back in one piece. Promise.”
“Dad,” started Joshua.
“The decision is final, buddy,” said David. “I can’t be worrying about you out there, too. I need to focus on getting back safely.”
“I don’t want to lose you,” said Joshua.
“I won’t let that happen,” said David.
“Neither will I,” said Larsen. “Your dad will be in good hands. No risky shit. Pardon my language.”
“He’s heard worse,” said David.
Joshua didn’t look convinced by his father’s argument, but he let it go, which relieved Emma. She couldn’t imagine how Larsen was going to pull this off during the daytime—or any time for that matter. As soon as one of those lunatics spotted them, all bets would be off. Three guns or a hundred wouldn’t make a difference against one of those mobs.
Chapter 8
Larsen pursed his lips while he wiped an antiseptic sponge across the surface of his wound. It stung like hell. The bullet had creased his leg, taking a two-inch-long, half-inch-deep slice out of his thigh muscle. When he finished with the iodine sponge, he unwrapped a square piece of hemostatic gauze and placed it over the wound, keeping it in place while he tightly rolled an Israeli bandage around his thigh, securing it in place. A minute later, he was back on his feet, his thigh holster back in place over his bloodied pants.
“Good as new,” he said, wincing a little as he took a few steps.
The wound needed stitches. Deep stitches that he couldn’t do anything about—but they didn’t have time for that. He’d done more with worse injuries. He could do this.
KILL BOX: A Post-Apocalyptic Pandemic Thriller (The Zulu Virus Chronicles Book 2) Page 3