Cough (9 page)

Chief Wells exhaled as he sat down in his chair and placed his empty beer bottle on his desk. “How long do we have?”

Stokes looked at his watch. “Sixty-five hours.”

“You sound as if it strikes on the minute.”

“Pretty much close to it.”

“No cure?”

“No cure.”

Another exhale and Wells ran his hand over his head. “Here’s what I don’t get. Why didn’t they send a biohazard team in here? If the feds knew, you knew, why is this a secret?”

“Two reasons,” Stokes replied. “They either don’t think anything will happen or if the virus did get out, nothing they can do.”

“What do you think?”

“It got out.”

Wells lowered his head.

“Another reason could be … this was an accident, but there’s a chance the virus was deliberately released elsewhere.”

“Jesus.” Wells stood up. “I need another beer. So what happens?”

“If it hits. You’ll get your first wave of sick. All those exposed at the accident. They’ll go down pretty quick. Over ninety percent of them will die in minutes. Those who get infected from them, seventy-two hours we’ll see another outbreak. This one is less dramatic, people live two days maybe less. It’ll keep going until burns through every single person who can get sick. There will be some who just won’t get it. The outbreak in the Congo … several never got sick.”

“I’m torn between letting people know and just … keeping my mouth shut.”

“Telling them is chancing they’ll leave,” Stokes said. “If they leave and they are infected, they’ll spread it. The best bet is to try to contain it here. That’s just my thought.”

“What do the Feds plan on doing? CDC? WHO?”

“Tomorrow they’ll come in here to collect the remains of the sack, and the antidote and I’m supposed to stay in town to keep watch. They’ll probably roll in with a quarantine when the outbreak happens.”

“Will that work?” Wells asked.

“Probably not,” Stokes said. “It’s pretty much out of control with the first cough.”

“You said … you said antidote.”

“Yeah, there’s an antidote that also serves as a vaccine. But only if given before exposure or within twelve hours. There was a small case of it and the driver of the SUV had an injector syringe with a vial.”

Wells nodded. “How much do you have?”

“Ten vials, hundred doses, plus data so they can create it. They didn’t know about the driver’s injector. I didn’t tell them.”

“Why?”

“I … hit a few people with the antidote while we were moving them. I saw the injector gun, the vial, I panicked, knew people were exposed and I just used the remaining doses on whoever I could.”

Wells nodded. “Do … do they know how much you have?”

“No.”

“So they know you have something and the data.” Wells rubbed his chin. “Could you say ... give them one vial and the data?”

“Why?”

“Ninety doses isn’t much, but it’s ninety people we can save. You said within twelve hours?” Wells checked out the time. “That leaves us a little under five to get the antidote delivered or as much as we can.”

“There were a lot of people in that area. How do you decide?” Stokes asked.

“How did you decide?”

“I was random.”

“Well we can’t be random. We have to think about this town and hit those who were exposed and are gonna be needed when the shit goes down. Essential services.”

“Good thinking, But here’s another problem,” Stokes said. “How are you going to keep the virus a secret while inoculating people at nine at night?”

Wells projected confidence. “Leave that to me.”

<><><><>

Len Hendrix looked exhausted and surprised when he opened his front door at nine o’clock at night. “Chief Wells? Everything all right?”

“Hey there, Len, sorry to bother you. You know Doctor Harmon don’t you?” Wells indicted to the gentlemen with him.

“Yeah, hey, Doc.”

“Len you were at the accident today, right?” Wells asked.

“Of course.”

“Well, and this is hush-hush, apparently those guys in the accident were with the Health Department and they were carrying a sample of the measles. Now, we think it was all right, but just to be sure, we’re hitting essential services with the measles vaccines.”

Len nervously laughed. “You’re joking, right?”

No reply.

“Well, no worries. I had my measles shot.”

Dr. Harmon spoke up. “We checked your records, Len, you’re out of date.”

“Really?”

“Really. And if you’re not, it doesn’t hurt to double up. Can you hold out your arm for me?” Dr. Harmon requested.

Nervously, Len stepped on to the porch and rolled up the right sleeve of his tee shirt.

Dr. Harmon pulled out the air injector gun, placed it to his flesh and pulled the trigger. “Thank you. Have a good night.”

As mysteriously as they appeared, they left. Len watched Chief Wells and Dr. Harmon, turn around and without saying another word walked away. Len stood there for a moment rubbing his arm, watching as the two men headed down the road.

After thinking, ‘that was really odd’, Len shrugged it off and went back inside.

Authorities are still trying to determine the cause of the accident that claimed nine lives and injured forty-two in the border town of Littlefield Arizona. It is suspected the driver was under the influence …

Click. Switch. More news.

‘At this time they are saying as many as thirty cases were brought in with severe flu symptoms,” the reporter stood with a microphone in hand. “There is speculation of a biological attack, but officials are stating that is far from the truth. There is nothing to be concerned about at this time and …’

Click.

Sharon set down the remote.

She wanted to catch up on what was going on in the world, but she simply didn’t have the time. She needed a coffee and would grab a Starbucks before getting a taxi. The late checkout afforded her time to get a nap, which in turn threw her even more behind. Plus, it was the first time in ages she had to check her luggage. Sharon was always a carry own woman, but the extended vacation caused her to have more bags.

She felt so much better and worried she’d still be ill when she returned to work, but when woke in the morning, she was a new person. Sharon even ventured down to the casino and played some slot machines.

But she had to hurry, especially if she wanted to get that coffee.

Gathering her items, her purse tipped and the contents rolled on to the bed. The two bronchial inhalers clanked against each other, Sharon debated on tossing them in her checked luggage but opted against it. She did feel better, but on the outside chance she relapsed, she wanted to have them handy. After shoving them back in her purse, Sharon grabbed the rest of her belongings and lugged them out of the hotel room.

She had a flight to catch and a coffee to get first.

<><><><>

Wally hated being early for his shift. He didn’t mind being on time, but early... he hated it. He wasn’t crazy about his job as a security monitor at the casino, but it paid the bills and had decent health benefits. Plus, they gave him a free meal.

The free meal was never enough. Wally was a healthy build man in his twenties with an appetite of a football team. That was why he also packed a lunch. One he could eat while doing his job.

He knew he was going to be early for his shift, his clock was wrong and he didn’t discover the twenty minute difference until he go into his car. He even stopped at the local gas station for a slushy.

Still he was early.

After saying hello to the guys at the security desk, Wally made his way up to the third floor. He punched in, signed out a radio, tested it and headed to the back room.

“Jesus,” he said, punching in his code to get in. “Seven minutes early.”

At least he was working with John. John was funny. He made the nightshift go fast and did crazy voices to match up what they saw on the monitors.

“Dude, you’re early,” John said.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Totally missed sex in elevator two, tower two.”

“No way.” Wally pulled out a chair. “I never see anything good.”

“Chick is puking in the trash can by the front doors.” He pointed. “Monitor three.”

“Oh man, that’s disgusting. She would be hot, but hot chicks puking are just gross.”

“Ever notice they all wear tight skirts and really high heels. As if that’s the required outfit to blow chunks in Vegas.”

“Let’s call the floor, have them get her.”

John picked up his radio. “Oh, too late, they’re on it.”

Wally glanced up to the monitor, security had made their way to the vomiting girl. He sat back in the chair and placed his lunch sack on the counter.

“What did you bring?”

“Ham sandwich.”

“They have Grilled chicken on the employee menu tonight.”

“I’ll eat both,” said Wally. His eyes were on the wall of monitors. There were twenty of them. He was pretty good at his job, he never missed a trick. He earned a gift card when he spotted a man stealing a woman’s wallet from her purse.

Things were relatively calm, but Wally didn’t expect them to stay that way. It was Friday night.

He was twenty-minutes into his shift and three bites into his sandwich when he noticed monitor nineteen. He sat up.

“What do you see?” John asked.

“Nineteen.”

Wally watched a man at a slot machine, his body jolted and jerked and his hands went out.

“Is he choking?” John asked.

“I think so.” Wally lifted his radio. His eyes staying on the monitor, people gathered around him trying to help. Wally called into his radio. “We have a player in distress. Mega Slots Section A4.”

“We’re on it,”

Wally was about to place down his radio, when his eyes lifted to monitor twelve. A similar scene, only with a woman. “She’s choking too. On twelve.”

“Holy... Look Wally, Monitor Seven.”

Wally’s eyes went to monitor seven, then five, then one … all of them had similar scenes. All of them showed people choking, struggling, holding their throats, reaching out. There was no sound, no way to determine. But within seconds, there was commotion everywhere.

“I wonder if there’s smoke or something down there,” said John.

“I’ll check it out.” Wally grabbed his radio. “Stay here. Keep calling these in.”

“Dude, I think they know.”

After taking, taking a look at the monitors that all showed people in distress, Wally raced from the office, down the hall and to the elevator.

It arrived quickly, and Wally pressed the ground floor.

It arrived in a few seconds, the bell dinged, the door opened and Wally flew out. He only made it a few feet when a woman lunged for him.

“Help …” She coughed and choked. “Help.” She gripped him.

Her body jolted as she violently hacked. It was deep and struggling. Manners were out the windows, she coughed so horrible she didn’t have time to cover her mouth.

“Ma’am, let me get you …” Wall wanted to pull back. Something was wrong, seriously, wrong. Her face was pale except the dark under eye circles and her eyes didn’t water, they dripped bloody tears.

One more hack, her body convulsed forward and she spat a bloody discharge at Wally just before she collapsed to the floor.

He crouched down by her, trying to hold her still with one hand. Her body shook and she continued to choke. A thick bloody substance pooled in her mouth and seeped from her nostrils running down her cheek.

He grabbed his radio, brought it to his mouth. “Lobby tower two. We have a code four. Woman down. Call 911. Over.”

Static.

Wally listened and waited for a response, instead he heard nothing but calls for help.

‘Someone send a med team to Roulette three. We have a Code four.’

‘Section A9, two men are down.’

‘Oh my God, someone help we have three woman on the floor at the Pit Stop Shop.’

Code four. Code four there.

Every voice on the radio was calling for help and no one responded.

Screams carried from the casino, drowning out the usual bells and dings of video slot machines.

Wally didn’t know what to do. How could he? He hadn’t a clue what was happening.

<><><><>

Depending on the situation, no one really pays attention to a cough. People cough. Unless it is in a quiet place, like a church or funeral home, a cough fades to the background like elevator music. People don’t think about them or give them a second thought. Usually the cougher is more self-conscious about it than those around them.

With the exception of an airplane. Even then, someone coughing didn’t register to Sharon. She probably wouldn’t have given much thought to the woman in 2B had she herself not had that bout with a cold that triggered asthma.

She paused in reaching for coffee cups.

“You okay?” Todd asked.

“Yeah, just that woman coughing. Made me think about me being sick this past week.”

“Better than thinking about London,” said Todd.

Sharon smiled. “What?”

“Haven’t you heard? I thought everyone did. Some sort of …”

Even Todd stopped talking when the woman’s cough sounded terribly deep.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Sharon grabbed a bottle of water. “I’ll be right back.” She left the attendant station and walked into first class.

The woman in 2b, jerked in her seat. Her hand was to her mouth.

“Ma’am, here’s some water for you.” Sharon extended the bottle.

The woman couldn’t stop coughing enough to respond.

“Ma’am, are you all right?”

The woman’s face was red and she held out her hand for the water, when she did, Sharon saw it, the blood that laced her fingertips.

Trembling, the woman brought her fingers to her mouth to feel, blood oozed from the corner and the woman began to cough again.

The passenger in 2A, jumped up. “Oh my God, get me out of here.”

“Sir, calm down.” Sharon urged.

“Are you serious? You want me to …”

He froze.

Cough.

Cough-Cough.

Sharon turned around. Not only was the woman in 2B coughing, but so was the man in the next row, within seconds, the person next to him flew into a coughing frenzy.

2A grabbed a pillow and covered his mouth.

“Go.” Sharon instructed him “Up front.”

He jumped over the coughing woman and no sooner did he make it to the aisle, the woman wheezed deeply, inhaling what blood was in her mouth. Her coughing and choking grew violent.

In first class alone there were seven people choking and coughing.

Another flight attendant flew down the aisle toward coach. Sharon turned her head to look. So many passengers were struggling. The sudden onset of coughing and choking, caused panic in the plane and those not affected rushed to the aisle to get away.

People screamed and fought.

Sharon was at a loss at who to attend to. Deciding to help the first woman in 2B, Sharon turned back around. The woman was wide eyed, slumped in her seat and motionless.

She had stopped coughing. Sharon reached down to the woman, she wasn’t breathing. Blood dripped from her nose and ears.

She was dead.

It was all happening so fast, the tight space of the plane was loud with choking and crying. Sharon tried to process her next course of action.

“Todd,” she shouted.

Todd was frozen at the front of the plane. His eyes shifted about in horror.

“Todd!”

He snapped out of it and raced her way.

“Go tell the pilot, contact ground. Tell him the situation. Tell him to manually engage the oxygen masks.”

“You think someone released something?”

“It’s possible.”

“Do you think …?”

“Todd!” Sharon yelled. “Go!”

Todd spun on his heels and ran toward the cockpit.

Sharon wanted to cry. She could hear those around her needing help, their vocal chords drowning while they hacked a cough similar to a bark.

Straightening the dead woman in 2B, someone grabbed her wrist.

Sharon stopped.

The passenger covered her mouth. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Sharon answered and looked around. She was at a loss. “I just don’t know.”