Pestilence: A Medical Thriller Page 5

  12

  Samantha sat on top of that hill for several minutes. She could just go about her life as if nothing were wrong and wait for her sister to contact her. That would probably be best. She had her mother to look after, and the nurses could only do so much. But it wasn’t like Jane to not contact her; whatever the government planned to do had already begun.

  She bit her thumbnail as she stood up. She paced for a moment before pulling out her phone.

  She tried to book a flight to LAX or John Wayne in Orange County, but no airline would allow her credit card payment to go through. She kept getting an error message and being redirected to the main site. Flights must have been cut off. She checked the clock on her phone, then dialed Duncan’s number.

  “Hey,” he said, out of breath.

  “Hey. What’re you doing?”

  “Elliptical. What’s up?”

  “Sorry. I know you hate people interrupting your workout.”

  “No biggie.”

  “So, you get access to military flights, don’t you?”

  “Sure, all military employees do.”

  “Could you book passage for someone else?”

  “Only if I went with them. Why?” A pause. “Oh. Oh no, you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

  “She’s in trouble, Duncan. I know it.”

  “Sam, it’s not going to be like that. At least, I don’t think. She should be fine. They just want to make sure people are safe. And besides, you haven’t heard anything on the news yet, right?”

  “It won’t be on the news this time. In Oahu, they made it public, and the virus still made it to the mainland. They’re going to keep it as quiet as possible.”

  “Well, I haven’t heard anything, and there’re at least twenty high-ranking army guys in my building.”

  “Duncan, I know she’s in trouble.”

  “Well, look, we’ll book a flight out there on Southwest or something, and—”

  “You can’t book a flight. You can’t call anyone. All the communication lines are down.”

  “What? Hold on a sec.” He paused again, much longer this time. “That’s weird,” he finally said when he got back on.

  “I have to get out there.”

  “Why? What could you even do?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve dealt with this virus before, and—”

  “And it almost got you killed.”

  Flashes entered her mind of a man inside her home—flashes of pain, motion, and blood. The trauma hadn’t fully settled in yet, and it still stung as if it had happened just the day before. She suddenly grew uneasy, and her finger traced the outline of the mace in her pocket.

  “I know. But I need to get out there.”

  Duncan mumbled something under his breath and then said, “Fine. I’ll get us passage tomorrow on the next plane going out.”

  “I’d like to go tonight. Right now.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s going to be chaotic at first, and there won’t be any precedents. It’d be good just in case we need to pull some strings to get back out.”

  “Get back out? What do you think’s happening there, Sam?”

  “I don’t know. But I have a bad feeling about it.”

  13

  Howie sat on a cot with his daughter lying down behind him. She was listening to her iPod and falling asleep. Kids seemed to have an amazing ability to sleep through almost anything. He glanced at her and then back out over the men. An uncomfortable thought came over him. She was the only female he’d seen on this side of the fence.

  Guards walked the perimeter and were stationed on makeshift towers that seemed to be rising higher as time went on. But the crowds were so dense, they weren’t able to pay attention to everything.

  The man in the cot across from him was also sitting down and nervously rubbing his hands together. He smiled at Howie. “You ever been through something like this?”

  “No,” Howie said. “I don’t even really know what this is.”

  “I was talkin’ to some o’ the other guys, and they said it had to do with the sickness.”

  “What sickness?”

  “That flu or whatever that was in Hawaii some time back. You remember when they had to shut down the airport and all that?”

  He did remember hearing something about it on NPR. But the public was so jumpy that anything unusual would set off a panic, so he hadn’t paid attention to it. Avian flu, one of the most ridiculously docile viruses in history, had caused an enormous panic that triggered a drop in commodity and stock prices as people were anticipating Armageddon-like devastation. And of course, nothing happened. He had thought the virus they were reporting on in Hawaii had been something similar and that some doctor working for the government would come out and say it was nothing.

  “I do remember that,” he said. “What does this have to do with it?”

  “It’s here, man. At least, that’s what they say. That it’s on the mainland, and they’re closin’ off California.”

  “The entire state? That’s impossible. The border’s hundreds of miles long.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, man. That’s just what they sayin’.”

  Lighting was sparse, but out of nowhere, the entire beach was engulfed with illumination. Massive floodlights connected to generators turned on. The lighting was harsh and felt like the sun. A crowd entered both the men’s and the women’s sides, and couples spoke to each other through the chain-link fence, calming crying spouses and children.

  “This is monstrous,” Howie said. “They can’t do this.”

  “Already did it, man. It’s done.” He put out his hand. “I’m Mike, by the way.”

  “Howie.”

  “Well, Howie, I wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you, but this is about the craziest thing that’s ever happened to me. Damn near shit my pants when them guardsmen broke inta my house.”

  Howie glanced around the space. He recognized only two ways to get out: the entrance he had come through and an entrance at the back that was sealed with a massive steel lock. Howie rose and said, “Mike, keep an eye on her for a second, would you?”

  “No problem.”

  He walked past Mike and across the sand to the other entrance. A floodlight was directly on it, so he didn’t go near. The lock was at least five inches thick. Howie glanced back to make sure Jessica was all right, and Mike was sitting in the sand next to her, anxiously glancing around at the other men who were pouring in.

  “Keep moving.”

  Howie turned around and saw a guardsman staring at him through the fence. “Excuse me?”

  “I said, keep moving. We don’t want any guests near the entrances.”

  “Guests? Is that what we are? ’Cause I certainly don’t feel like a guest.”

  A crowd of several men was gathering behind him, some shouting things. Others stood quietly by and eyed the guardsman. The guard seemed to notice, and he puffed out his chest, a steely resolve in his eyes.

  “I said, get back,” he shouted, pulling the semi-automatic rifle strapped to his back.

  “What are you going to do? Shoot us?” Howie asked. “For what? Why are we even here?”

  “I won’t ask you again. Get back!”

  “I want a lawyer,” Howie said.

  The men behind him were shouting, and several guardsmen had run over. The first one bit his lip, glanced around, and opened the door. When the lock was off, Howie rushed in, several guardsmen behind him. Howie thought he might be arrested, but the guardsman raised his rifle, and he realized that wasn’t what was going on.

  The butt of the rifle hit his nose so hard that he flew off his feet. Men were shouting, and fists were flying before he heard shots and screaming. As he tried to get up, a guardsman slammed his rifle into him, and he fell back to the sand, staring up at the moonlit sky through a fog.

  14

  Ian leaned the seat back in the Audi and glanced over at Katherine. She had cried for nearly fift
een minutes straight and then sobbed a few more before quieting down. When she was calm enough, he asked, “You hungry?”

  She looked at him in amazement and then back out at the road.

  “Well, I’m hungry. You know anywhere good around here? I feel like Mexican.”

  She was quiet a long while and then said, “Paiso is good.”

  “Paiso it is. Let’s go.”

  She got off on the next exit, and they headed through a somewhat rundown part of the city Ian wasn’t familiar with. The addresses had only street names instead of numbers, and most of the stores had bars on the windows.

  “How’s a good girl like you know about this part of the city?”

  “I used to work here.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Delivering meals.”

  “To who?”

  “Homeless youth.”

  He laughed. “Really? Wow, what an incredible waste of time.”

  “They’re kids,” she said quietly.

  “Let me tell you something, Katherine. I’ve been everywhere in the world and met all kinds of people, and you know the one principle that applies to all of them? They are in their life exactly where their past thoughts have brought them. Our thoughts are what make us who we are. You keep thinking negative thoughts, and that’s all you’re going to bring into your life. Bailing out those that haven’t mastered themselves doesn’t help either person. It’s actually an embarrassment to both.”

  “What about you?” she asked. “Did your thoughts bring you here?”

  “They did,” he said, looking out the window as they passed dimly lit liquor stores and fast-food restaurants with thick, bulletproof glass in the drive-throughs.

  “So you thought about killing people?”

  “No, I thought about efficiency. That’s what I do. I’m an efficiency expert in an industry where that is sorely lacking.”

  After turning into a lot filled to the brim with cars, Katherine parked in back near the dumpsters and they walked to the entrance. A line stretched in front of the restaurant, and they were told it would be a half-hour wait. Ian checked his watch.

  “Do you want to find somewhere else?” she said.

  “No.”

  He took out a wad of hundred dollar bills and went to the hostess. He whispered, “Beauty is a terrible thing not to reward.” Then he slipped her three hundred dollar bills. She took two menus and, without calling any names, sat them by the window.

  “You paid three hundred dollars to eat here?” Katherine asked when the hostess had left.

  “You can’t put a price on quality,” he said as he opened the menu and looked over the items.

  After he ordered a chimichanga with spicy mole, he handed the menus to the waitress and asked Katherine, “You sure you don’t want to eat anything?”

  She shook her head.

  Ian smiled at the waitress and told her, “Just me today.”

  When they were alone, Katherine looked around, and Ian noticed.

  “You could scream your head off right now. But that wouldn’t change anything.”

  “They would call the police.”

  “Eventually, yes, they would. But this is Los Angeles in a shitty part of the city. The police will take at least ten, maybe fifteen minutes to respond. And what do you think will happen in that ten or fifteen minutes?” He glanced over at a fat man in a suit who was accompanied by a woman dressed like a hooker. “You think he’ll come to your rescue?” He looked at another young man of about twenty on a date. “Or how about him? Or maybe you think these poor waiters earning two bucks an hour plus tips are going to run over here and risk their lives for a customer?”

  “Maybe.”

  He grinned, glancing back at a child at the table behind them. He leaned back in his chair, partially exposing the holster with the pistol inside. “I’ll tell you exactly what would happen. Nothing. Not a single person in here would do anything once they saw this gun. I would pull it out, shoot you in the head, and then again in the heart to make sure you were dead. I would take the keys out of your pocket and then find someone else to drive me. Maybe the hostess.”

  She shook her head, her eyes on the table. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “I’m not doing it to you. You were brought here by your choices. The choices you’ve made in life brought you here, and the choices I made in life brought me to this side of the table.”

  “You’re not making sense. You said our thoughts bring us where we are.”

  He smiled. “Thoughts make our choices, and our choices make our actions, which make our lives.”

  The food came out a short while later, and he ate with gusto, then chugged a full glass of water.

  “You were absolutely right about that,” he said. “That was delicious.” He wiped his lips with a napkin. “So have you made your decision?”

  “About what?”

  “About whether you’re going to scream or not.”

  She didn’t say anything, and he rose from the table, leaving a hundred dollar bill next to the plate. He took her arm and dragged her out of the restaurant, and she didn’t protest much.

  Once they were on the road again, he pulled out his phone and checked the next name before he said, “Head to the 405. We got a thirty-minute drive ahead of us.”

  15

  Dobbins Air Force Base was the closest air base to Samantha, and she sped down the interstate to get there in time for her flight. She wouldn’t arrive in California until early the next morning. But she was too wired to sleep on the plane, so she’d brought her iPad, which had several movies on it she hadn’t watched yet.

  When she arrived, the flight wasn’t scheduled to leave for another forty-five minutes, so she waited by the gate since they wouldn’t let her in without proper clearance. Duncan had forced himself onto the flight and demanded that he go with her. She protested, saying he should be on the flight for purposes of getting her there and then fly right back after dropping her off. But he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and she didn’t fight hard. The truth was she could really use someone with her.

  Within minutes of her arrival, Duncan appeared at the gate in a cab. He paid before getting out, then hugged and kissed her.

  “You sure about this?” he asked by way of greeting.

  “She’s my only sister. And she’s in trouble. I know it.”

  He nodded. “Okay. But we’re going there as part of the military. I only got you clearance by saying the CDC needed access as part of a study I’m doing and that I couldn’t do it without you. You cannot go anywhere without me. I’m serious, Sam. You have to stick by me once we’re there.”

  “Why? What did they tell you was going on?”

  “I’m not entirely clear on the details, but it sounds like they’ve shut the entire state down, and no one can leave. I don’t know how they intend to enforce that, but that’s their plan.”

  She shook her head. “I thought we were done with this. I thought the agent had died out in South America and Oahu.”

  “Nature doesn’t know how to give up. But I think it’s contained. Just under a hundred known infections, every one of them quarantined in a hospital. Hopefully, this will be over once no more cases appear.” He looked at the guard at the gate and then back to Sam. “You certain?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  16

  Dr. Aneil Deluge walked down the corridor of Saint Anthony’s Hospital in Napa, California. Under his arm, he carried a clipboard with two intake sheets attached. He took the elevator to the quarantine unit on the top floor, which was really nothing more than a portion of that floor cut off from the rest.

  The elevators dinged and opened, and he stepped off. The nurse behind the desk smiled at him, and he smiled back without greeting her. He walked the length of the corridor to a room separated from the others. He looked in on the patient through a glass viewing window.

  Candice Montgomery was a twenty-four-year-old student at
Napa Valley College. She was studying communications and had been a cheerleader for the football team. Deluge hoped she had not been to a game or practice before she’d been admitted to the hospital.

  Her symptoms were, at first, indicative of the flu—fever, rashes, headaches, and vomiting. But, in a progression so quick that Deluge was left wondering if she’d been poisoned, her condition deteriorated.

  First, she developed small pustules on her skin. Little bumps that looked like kernels of corn had popped up on her flesh. Then her eyes, throat, and nose became irritated and swollen. These symptoms were not entirely alarming to Deluge or the ER staff, but what happened next, they had never seen before.

  She broke out in pustules so severely that they covered nearly ninety-five percent of her body. They even broke out inside her throat, on her tongue, and over her eyes. She had gone blind as the pustules ruptured the conjunctiva, iris, and pupil. Heavy scarring had occurred afterward, and he guessed she was permanently blind.

  But a more alarming symptom had developed that morning. Her skin appeared to be black. Though full barrier nursing was in place and the risk of infection from an airborne pathogen was low, two nurses and a phlebotomist had turned down his requests that they tend to her. Since he had to suit up and withdraw the blood himself every time, running many tests was difficult. The pustules had made injections extremely painful for her, as well, and she would thrash about whenever the needle went into any part of her body.

  The blackness underneath her skin had spread over her entire body, and she appeared as though she’d been charred. One nurse, brave enough to examine her, had revealed to him that Candice’s membranes in her orifices were disintegrating. The soft tissue at the opening of her nose, anus, vagina, and eyes was slipping off her as if they had rotted away.

  Candice had been at Saint Anthony’s for eight days, and it only took one day of her symptomology for Deluge to notify the Centers for Disease Control. They had flown out, improved the barriers to prevent further infection, and then left. The man that had been sent, a doctor by the name of Cheney, told Deluge that she was too far gone for treatment and that they should keep her comfortable for the next few days. Nothing else could be done.