Pestilence: The Infection Begins (10 page)

“I don’t—don’t think so, I—”

“Check yourself over, Isaac.”

He felt the top of his forehead and his thick dark hair as Delaney suggested. Both were wet.

“Jesus!” he pulled his hand down and looked; there was no blood but his fingers were damp. “Saliva. She dribbled like a newborn infant.”

Delaney thought his memory may have been impaired when his head was squashed by Childs giant breasts.

“Here, wash it off!” Sanders tossed him a bottle of water.

Tilford caught the bottle and wasted no time. He screwed the top off, then poured the contents all over the top of his head. He rubbed energetically with both hands but soon started to shudder all over.

“What’s wrong? The water isn’t cold.”

“No, no… it’s not that, it’s just what happened to Childs. All the blood, and the spittle, and, and… ylech!” He screwed his face up in disgust before turning suddenly into the corner and heaving up the contents of his stomach. It was all too much.

“Oh my God!” Sanders muttered between sobs.

Delaney wasn’t all that impressed with Tilford’s display but understood. If her head had been wedged between Childs melon-sized tits like that she be throwing up too. Delaney brought her bottle of water over to Tilford. “Here, wash your mouth out.”

Tilford had struggle for air when Childs held him to her massive breasts and rocked back and forth, but that wasn’t the reason for his revulsion nor was her changing into one of the blood—seeking ghouls. No, it was during this encounter with death and over—sized tits that he had got a hard-on, the most arousing cock—throbbing hard—on ever. But he wasn’t going to own up to that. Not to anyone.

D
elaney had never shot
anything other than paper targets, but she was aware she had no choice, and couldn’t afford to concern herself with the moral complexities of taking another life, even one that was as far removed as Jenny Childs’ was. It had to be in order to save another.

“Oh, oh… oh my God, I can’t—”

“Look away, Beth, look away now!” Delaney ordered Sanders, who couldn’t stop staring at the twitching fingers of Nurse Childs.

“If anything’s going to bring those things back, that gunshot will do it.” Tilford at last was able to say.

“Agreed. We’re going to have to make a run for the roof. It’s our only choice. You sure you’re up for it?” Delaney double checked. Sanders, Delaney saw, might present a problem. She was going into shock.

“How do we get there, Isaac?”

“Back the same way we came into the stairwell and go through the door on the left that takes you to the third floor and the stairs to the roof landing.”

“Ready?” Delaney received a nod from Tilford but nothing from Sanders.

“Beth, Beth?” She called twice without a response.

“Nurse Sanders! Are you with us?” The firmness of Tilford’s stronger voice got her attention.

“Ah, sorry, what did you say?”

“We’re going now. Are you coming?”

Sanders looked at Tilford, then Delaney; she didn’t ask any questions but didn’t look quite with it. She finally moved toward the door where Tilford stood, ready to open it.

“Okay, we go straight out here, through the office, then back to the main corridor to the nurses’ station, got it?” He explained to Delaney. Sanders was unresponsive. All they could hope for is that she would follow, without hesitation. “Hope you’re ready to shoot that thing some more.” he said to Delaney.

“I won’t have any choice if we run into any of the infected, will I?”

Tilford nodded, reached over and took her forearm. She understood when he mouthed the words thank you and gave him a warm smile in reply. Together they took a deep breath, then he yanked open the door and stepped to one side as she raised her gun in a combat stance just as she’d been taught.

That grumpy old Marine would be proud of me now, she told herself.

“Let’s go!” she called on Tilford to come forward. In one hand he held his mop aloft, in the other he led Nurse Sanders along.

B
efore Moya left
for the United States he was given details of the hospital in Des Moines. This included the exact location, floor plan, emergency procedures and security codes. The NSA were able to monitor movement inside via high—tech thermal imaging satellites and this information was passed onto Calgleef who passed it onto Moya. It was only a hunch but he played it anyway and called Delaney. He may have sold his ideals out for money but he wasn’t a killer and gave her the access code to the security storeroom.

Once he received confirmation Delaney made it into the storeroom alive and well, Moya decided it was time to vacate the premises—the whole state of Iowa in fact. He first thought of Chicago, but if the pestilence broke out in Des Moines in such a virulent manner that a curfew was placed on travel between major metropolitan centers, then being stuck in a city of nearly three million would not be a good idea. Kansas City then, became his first stopover. He had no idea whatsoever of who or what it was that attacked Delaney in the hospital, but obviously it was linked to the vaccine. The vaccine made by the company that he represented. The vaccine that he promoted and championed.

“They showed symptoms of the Baltic, flu at first she said, but then they attacked others.” He muttered to himself as he lined up to board the next flight to Kansas City. He had no corroboration of these claims, but Delaney’s manner on the phone suggested she wasn’t faking her terror.

After arriving in Kansas City he took a room at a nondescript three-star hotel, then checked in with Calgleef for any updates. “What’s happening at Riverside?” he asked after a short greeting; the two men had never met but a mutual dislike was apparent.

“Well you’re not going to like this… the media have arrived and—”

“WHAT?” Damn right I’m not going to like it. “As their trucks pulled up, they began filming right away. Before they could be moved on, several staff members crashed through the windows—must be a dozen or more.”

“They escaped from the lockdown, you say?”

“Yep, that was exactly what happened, and it was filmed by TV news. Surprised you haven’t seen it actually.”

“I’ve been traveling, don’t want to be too close to the hospital, for reasons known to both of us.”

“You need to make your way to Atlanta to the CDC building.”

“Yes, I thought that would be best. Now tell me what the plans are for those who have escaped.”

“We’ve rounded them up taken them into custody and—”

“Into custody? Where precisely would that be?” Moya was shocked. He had a fair idea of the game plan now, or assumed he did, but another flare-up in a location not directly under any control could be disastrous. The contagion could spread at a rate faster than they could possibly manage.

“At the Polk County prison. Is there something wrong with that?”

“Wrong, you imbecile! You’re the director of the CDC. You’re supposed to know about contagious diseases, and you’ve put people who have been in contact with possibly the most potent virus on the planet into a state penitentiary?”

Calgleef understood his mistake. With all the effort spent on micro—managing the CDC response, as per Thorncroft’s instructions, the cloak and dagger stuff with the NSA and the false reports to the White House he’d forgotten the mandate of the very organization responsible for controlling contagious disease of which he happened to be the director.

“Yes, yes I’m sorry I was—”

“Never mind that now Clagleef, they must be placed in quarantine, in a secluded building sealed off with no chance to escape. Surely you can understand that?”

“Yes, yes I do, but at the time I was fazed by the media and the filming. I just, just panicked… sorry.”

“We’re all in new territory here. But we shouldn’t allow ourselves to become complacent we have to maintain our positions as we would in any other situation of similar circumstances. Do you understand? All the authorities know is it’s an outbreak of Legionnaires Disease, right?” He paused while he received a grunt of acknowledgment, “Then we should be safe.”

“Now you get busy organizing the quarantine for those people. And one more question. Have any more escaped since then?”

“No, they’ve been the only ones.”

“Good. Was that woman who worked for you among them? What was her name, Grace, err, somebody—”

“Delaney, Grace Delaney. No she wasn’t among them, why?”

“Just wondered, that’s all. Now you get that done, okay, and you might want to get a direct line with the ranking police and National Guard officer at the scene just in case there are more breakouts, okay?”

“Yes, I’ll do that…oh, and by the way.”

“Yes?” Moya raised his eyebrows, not sure if it was to be good or bad news that was about to be delivered.

“The broken windows were repaired and reinforced.”

“The what?” Moya didn’t grasp what Clagleef told him.

“The windows. At the hospital, they’ve been repaired.”

“Oh Good, that’s good.” Said then pushed the button to end the call. “Perfect damn idiot is what he is!”

It appeared obvious that none of Delaney’s attackers were among those that had escaped. Calgleef would have mentioned if they had, if any were so infected and had become raving mad that they attacked on sight…

“Holy sweet Jesus… what if the disease spreads inside a prison?” The thought of being without any avenue of escape terrified him. He remembered that sound in Delaney’s voice it was anger sure but also fear unmitigated fear.

He didn’t want to think of the ramifications as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He’d have to do his level best to prevent the Baltic flu from breaking out across the United States before the new serum was produced. If it got out of control beforehand, there would be no use for a vaccine. And the only money-making enterprises would be morgues, funeral homes and cemeteries.

* * *

“
W
ait here
,” Delaney said to Sanders, then pointed to the doorway which led to the stairs. “Isaac, get the door!”

Tilford nodded, rushed forward and flung the door open, then jumped back. Delaney stepped directly in front of the open door. When she saw it was clear, she moved forward and looked inside the stairwell, to the left, then right, then up the stairs.

“Okay, we’re good. Let’s go!” Her voice echoed in the concrete and steel cavern.

Tilford followed with Sanders in tow. “Come on, Beth, come on.” He pushed the door shut behind him, then tried to lock it without success.

“Isaac, what are doing?” Delaney called from the third step up.

“Trying to find a way to lock this door, but I—”

“Smash the keycard number pad.” It was Sanders who spoke up, her voice still ghostly, distant.

“What?”

“Try it, Isaac, try it!” Delaney urged.

Tilford took the end of his mop and wielding it overhead in both hands jammed it into the keycard control like a knight of old would use a spear against a fire-breathing dragon. After several hearty blows, he gave the door a tug.

“It works. There’s still a bit of give, but it appears to have set the latch in place. Good thinking, Beth!”

Delaney noticed that Tilford’s commendation put a smile back on Sanders face, however slight. Satisfied the door was locked they continued toward the third floor without a word said; time was not on their side for any of this. With blood-eyed ghouls seeking to drain them of their blood and undoubtedly an infectious disease running rampant throughout the hospital, they had to keep moving until they found a way out. Delaney because of her position intelligence, knew they shouldn’t even consider leaving the hospital. Not until they’d been quarantined and checked. But this was no longer a functioning hospital, it had become a blood bank to bunch a crazed ghouls infected with the flu. They would die inside one way or another. She wasn’t confident of surrendering to the authorities outside either, not after her conversations with Calgleef and Moya. They might shoot first—indeed, it might even be their standing orders.

But why, then, did Moya give us the combination to the storeroom? It saved our lives but, but why? Delaney couldn’t explain it nor was she of a mind to, not at this moment, not right now.

“No, not that door!” Tilford called to Delaney, who was about to go straight out into the third floor. “Keep going right. The blue door at the end will take us to up to the roof.”

Delaney got halfway up the stairs when she heard a clanging sound below her. She skipped—two steps at a time—down to the landing, gun drawn, expecting the worst, but was relieved to found Tilford slamming his mop into the number pad of the keycard lock.

“You’re getting pretty handy with that,” she said.

“I’ve always been pretty handy with tools.”

“I bet you—”

“
I
don’t mean
to interrupt your tête-à-tête, but what if there’s more infected on the roof and we have to run back down?”

It was a good question and one that neither of the two most cognizant of the group thought of. Delaney paused before answering her, she wanted to appraise Sanders’s condition. Her pupils had contracted to normal and she didn’t seem as hyper. Good signs to have, good signs indeed.

“Well I’m going to go out on a limb here,” Delaney began. It was far from a perfect answer and that bothered her. “I would presume all the interest for these infected would be patients and staff members, none of whom would be on the roof. And I’ve got a whole box of ammo here!”

“I’d agree with that assumption, but let’s get up there. I can hear some banging on the door below.” Tilford motioned below with a flick of his thumb. No one needed to take a second guess as to who it would be, and they headed for the rooftop door. At the top of the stairs was a small landing that led to a red door with roughly a two-foot-thick window in the center.

“Let me look…” Tilford ran to the side, thrusting his shoulder into the frame before taking a peek. He ducked his head out, looked then pulled it back just like he’d seen in the movies a dozen or more times. Bending over, he skirted to the other side of the door and did the same. “I can’t see anyone at all, I think we’re good.”

“Okay, you ready, Beth?” Delaney waited until she received a positive acknowledgement. “Let’s go then!”

As before, Tilford pushed the door open and let Delaney burst through. She held the revolver in a two-handed grip, her elbows slightly bent and level with her shoulders, ready to fire.

“Clear!” she called. A combat veteran would have been proud.

“You look pretty comfortable with that thing.” Tilford.

“Are you two at it again? For God’s sake, we’ve got uncontrolled beasts roaming the hospital and all you two are concerned with is getting laid?”

Delaney didn’t think their conversation said anything obvious, but according to Sanders it was.

Delaney avoided the comment and concerned herself with the rooftop. The only sight was the of Des Moines skyline that surrounded them and the river of the same name, barely visible in the distance. The brightness of the midafternoon sun took them by surprise in more ways than one. First, their eyes weren’t used to the light after the low-level emergency lighting inside. Secondly, they’d forgotten about the time. From the first attack on Dr. Tilford by the patient with the enticing tits to their escape to the roof, less than four hours had passed.

“Okay, what now?” Sanders looked around the desolate rooftop, which seemed as barren as the Sahara.

“Can that door be locked?” Delaney asked Tilford.

“Not from here, no.”

“Okay splinter off that mop handle and jam it into the door crack. Keep doing it until you run out of handle.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“Nurse Sanders and I are going to figure out a way of getting off this fucking roof, unless you’d like to stay here?” She gave Tilford a “play along” wink, which he did. Delaney deliberately mentioned Sanders. She believed including Sanders in more decisions—or at least giving her the impression she was included—would benefit the morale of the three, otherwise it could lead to a division; and that usually spelled trouble.

“Right then, I’ll leave you to it…” He made it appear as if he’d just been given an order he didn’t like but wasn’t about to question, either. He began breaking the mop handle in a way that would leave it sharp and pointed at one end.