The Doomsday Infection (11 page)

CHAPTER 14

12:00 MIDNIGHT

President Hamilton Parker slouched back in his chair and put his feet up on his desk, behind him the Washington skyline. He offered a Cuban cigar to General Malloy who took it gratefully. He lit the Cohiba and puffed on it lustily. “Outstanding!” He blew out a plume of blue smoke when a thought struck him.”You sure we’re allowed to smoke in the White House?”

“Hey, I’m the acting
President; I can do what I like!” he grinned from ear-to-ear. “Now, to business, we’ve implemented road-blocks, we’ve blockaded the ports and grounded all aircraft. Nothing’s coming in and nothing’s going out. That’s the official line. But we’re still getting reports of people trying to escape and even some half-wits trying to enter the exclusion zone.”

General Malloy said. “What else can we do?”

“I’m going to escalate this mission, we going to be proactive, take control and wipe out this pestilence.”

“What are you suggesting?” the general asked slyly.

“The medical reports are claiming a ninety-nine percent death toll, so let’s speed that up to stop the disease spreading. We go in, kill the contagious, save the healthy.”

“That won’t go down well with the voters.”

“That’s why we’re not going to tell them.  We’ve declared martial law, we can pretty much do what we what.”

The general slapped the desk. “Now
you’re talking my language. This is what I’ve been waiting my entire life to hear. But logistically it’ll be problematic.”

“I’ve thought of that, we’re
designating sports-grounds and other such venues as refugee camps, for the diseased to go to voluntarily, we’ll step that up and give the troops orders to round up undesirables, take them to the camps and we will take care of them in one fell swoop.”

“You, sir, are a genius,” said General Malloy. “What about President Burgess?”

“What about him?”

“He’d never go for it. If he gets better and comes back . . .?”

“Then we will stop him from getting better, won’t we?” The vice President grinned.

“We?"

“Well,
you
actually. There’s a helicopter waiting for you.”

He grinned slyly. “I would enjoy that very much, Mister Vice Pres - or should I say Mister President?”

00:15 AM

Quinn Martell stomped down the echoing corridor from the war room, entered his temporary office and slammed the door. He searched through the papers on his oak desk, found his i-pad and connected with President Burgess.

James Burgess’s pale face filled the screen almost immediately. “Good evening, Quinn, what can I do for you?” The
President heaved himself up into a sitting position in his bed, the effort tiring him.

“It’s Hamilton, sir. He’s drunk on power and making all sorts of crazy decisions.”

“Aw, he’ll get over it. It’s all new to him. I’ll soon be better and when the Bubonic Plague has blown over, I’ll be back.”

“That’s just it, Jim, word has reached me that he’ll do everything in his power to stop you ever com
ing back. He has extended the exclusion zone further north to include your summer residence. Effectively you are now trapped in the Bubonic Plague exclusion zone.”

“What! That’s outrageous! I’m the
President and -”

“You gave him the power, sir, to make such commands.”

“But we’re twenty miles north of the previous zone.”

“It’s legitimate, Jim, I’ve checked.”

“Goddamn him, that slippery snake. I’ll get him for this you see if I don’t,” he raged, his face flushed red, he clutched his heart and flopped back on his bed,

The surgeon g
eneral leaned forward towards the screen, reaching towards it wanting to help somehow from his great distance. “Jim! Jim, are you alright?” He watched his life-long friend clutching at the sheets in agony. The monitors beside his bed went haywire, alerting the crash-team who rushed in to attend him. “I’m OK, I‘m OK, stop fussing me,” He waved the medical staff away. “I thought about this, there’s no one here at my compound that’s disloyal to me. Not one person would try to confine me here if I chose to return.”

“He’s thought of that, Jim. He’s sending General Malloy down there to enforce the quarantine.”

“Jumpin’ Jack, that sonofabitch? I’ll sort him out don’t you worry.” His face flushed an angry red.

“I thought you two had history?” Quinn reminded his friend.

“Don’t sweat it. That’s old news,” the President said, then calmed. “I blocked his promotion to a four star General a couple of times, but he got there despite me. That’s water under the bridge.”

“My information is, and I quote, ‘he’s going to make you see the error of your ways’ should you make an effort to return to DC.”

“Ha! What’s he going to do – shoot me?” 

Quinn switched off his
i-pad. He turned to look out of his office window at the pitch-black sky above the Washington skyline. He sighed heavily with a sense of foreboding. He would not put anything past General Malloy.

CHAPTER 15

00:30 AM

Sophie slowed the Jeep and approached the guardhouse at the President’s summer residence north of Palm Beach. She could see that the two young guards were staring at her incredulously. One rapidly raised his rifle to his shoulder and aimed at her as she approached, driving what was clearly a military vehicle. 

She showed her identification and the documents the sergeant had been carrying and after a few telephone calls
was permitted into the compound.

It was still a stiflingly hot night and Sophie found herself feeling anxious as she prepared to meet the President of the United States. She composed herself, and breathed deeply. It seemed so surreal to her, that she, of all people, should be having an audience with the
President! She swallowed down her anxiety, when the guard accompanying her, knocked on the door and after being granted access, opened the door for her. “Doctor Sophie Garcia, Mister President.”

Sophie’s mouth dropped open when she saw the
President lying in bed wired to monitors. “It’s erm, I had no idea . . .”

President Burgess waved his arm around the room as if it was nothing. “Don’t let all this high tech gadgetry fool you, I’m fighting fit, and fit as a fiddle. This stuff is my doctor over-reacting, as usual.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Mister President.”

“Doctor, the honor’s all mine, I’ve heard nothing but high praise from the surgeon general of you
and
of your work. He tells me that you are an expert in the field of the plague this great country is facing. Now, please sit.”

“Thank you,” she sat next to the bed and quickly scanned his medication, noting the drip in his arm and knew that he was far from all right, and was indeed, an extremely sick man.

“Is it bad out there, doctor?” he asked her.

“Both of my escorts succumbed
to the plague on the journey here,” she said gravely. She remembered them and shuddered.

“My god. . .” he said deeply worried. “I thought they were wearing protective suits?”

“They had each taken off their helmets momentarily -”

“It’s that quick?”

“They must’ve passed a carrier while their helmets were off. Just unlucky, I guess.”

“There’s no time to lose,” he said. “Bring me up to speed. I need to
know everything you know about the Black Death.” He pointed to solemn men hovering nearby. “These are my advisors and are privy to everything you have to tell me. I can’t be shocked, so hold nothing back and be as candid as you like. Let’s see what we are up against. Take us back to the beginning I’m a little rusty on my medieval European history.”

“I’ll start back in the mid thirteen hundreds, but interestingly the Bubonic Plague has reappeared regularly in small doses even as recent as 2012
, Madagascar off the African coast had an outbreak. Here in the US there were outbreaks in San Francisco, and New Orleans in the early part of the last century, and a one-off death of a park ranger in California, who’d contracted the disease from an infected squirrel.” The President paled, taking in the news. Sophie continued. “The Black Death reached Sicily in October 1347 and by January 1348 it had reached Venice and Genoa, a few weeks later Pisa in northern Europe, then France, Portugal, Germany, Scandinavia, and England and by the fall London had succumbed.

As communication was virtually nil, mainland Europe was ill prepared, having no knowledge of the pestilence that was about to wipe out one third - some experts say half – of the population.” The men sucked in breath. “It was particularly virulent; striking indiscriminately from the lowe
st to the highest in the land, dukes, duchesses, even a member of the Spanish Royal family succumbed to the awful disease, which had a fatality percentage of ninety to ninety five percent of all who came into contact with it.” Sophie noticed the President shiver, not sure if it was from the news or from whatever he suffered from.

“The clergy,” she continued. “Immed
iately stepped up their sermons and blamed the Plague upon unhealthy living. They begged their parishioners to turn to God in their time of need. But many found God wanting and oddly enough blamed the Jews. Persecuting and slaughtering them particularly in Toulon, France, and Barcelona, Spain. In Strasbourg, Germany, they burned nine hundred Jews alive on Valentine’s day, even though the plague hadn’t affected their town.”

“You
may have heard of the flagellants?” The men shook their heads collectively. “They were a highly religious order who went from town to town whipping themselves hoping to rid the great pestilence by their penance, but of course their efforts were useless.”

“That plague changed the sociology of Europe, as the workforce was decimated there weren’t farm laborers to gather the crops, which in turn failed
, leading to famines, and it took one hundred and thirty years for the population to get back to its pre-plague days.

That plague would rear its ugly head another six times before the end of the century.”

“Three hundred years later the Black Death, the Bubonic Plague, cut a swath through Asia followed by Europe once again. The Bubonic Plague carried by ship rats, quickly passed to their land-bound cousins and in turn to the human population via fleas.”

“The Black Death, although occurring nearly four hundred years ago is well documented. In England for example, they knew that it arriv
ed near Weymouth, on the south coast and in less than a month it had marched unstoppable to London, and this virus was even more deadly.”

“The symptoms being fever, chills, swellings, nose bleeds, vomiting blood, blood seeping from the eyes, ears, nose even from the rectum. Buboes like giant boils under the arms and around the groin. These would burst, and worst of all the skin would rip.”

“My God!” exclaimed President Burgess. “While the victim is alive?”

“I’m afraid so, s
ir. I witnessed this happening on the way here.”

“And which plague are we dealing with? The
1300s version, or 1600s one?” the President asked.

“Both. In addition, possibly the
septicemic plague mixed in. All the worst parts of the plagues, and this time it’s airborne.”

“Right,” said the President turning to his aides. “We must act immediately; we need to get the cure to the infected on a scale that the world has never seen -”

Sophie cleared her throat. “Erm, Mister President?”

However, the Chief Executive was on a roll. “The military can corral the masses on the ground, the Air-force to airlift in the cure -”

“Mister President,” Sophie said louder, the men turned to her, “Excuse me, but there is no cure.”

CHAPTER 16

00:45 AM

Luke stood with his hands in the air. He watched while the soldiers in the camouflaged hazmat suits unloaded the dead from the airplane. It was a slow process as the cumbersome suits hampered the men. The heat made the temperature inside the suits unbearable, so much so, that several men fainted.

Luke, Sheila and the Asian man had rifles aimed at them, while the soldiers checked and double-checked their credentials and they repetitively answered the same questions. Sheila’s nostril started to run with thick, black blood. The soldiers stared at her aghast. The Asian tried to distance himself from her but
was quickly made to change his mind by one of the soldiers prodding him with his rifle. Sheila fell to the floor, and vomited. The soldiers were helpless to offer her assistance and she sneezed again.

“Shoot her!” said the Asian. “She has the plague,
please
, before she infects us all,” he begged, when to his utter horror he sneezed too, and instantly knew the significance. “Oh no . . . please God, no . . .”

The sergeant major had difficulty in receiving a radio message as the hazmat suit’s helmet prevented him holding the walkie-talkie close to his ear. He barked orders and men scattered in all directions. He jumped down from the
Humvee, and manhandled Luke towards a covered wagon. “You. Follow me.”

“Where we going?” Luke asked, but the soldier ignored him. “Answer me,
Damnit; I have a right to know.”

“Southern Florida is under martial law, which means you no longer have any rights. You’re to follow military instructions to the letter, or else.”

“Or else what?” Luke asked with a flinty tone to his voice.

The soldier stopped dead and eyeballed him menacingly. “You do not want to find out, sir, believe me.” He waited until Luke got the point and then dragged him towards the wagon where Luke caught a glimpse of other civilians inside.

“You’re being taken to an encampment, where you’ll be assessed and depending on your state of contagion, will be treated.”

An explosion rocked the night sky as another missile launched from the warship off the Mi
ami coast, and moments later, Luke saw it strike its target and another civilian airplane shattered into a million pieces. He gasped and watched appalled as the debris fell into the ocean. Even the sergeant major winced, before saying. “Tough times call for tough measures. Now get into the truck.”

Luke moved to the rear of the truck, “What about the others?”

“They are clearly in an advanced state of the virus -”

“What’ll happen to Sheila and the -”

“You’re being separated purely on symptoms. Two batches. Those that can be saved and those that can’t.”

“But -”

“There’s no time for, ‘buts’. You should be thankful you’re in the, ‘can be saved category,’” the sergeant major said trying to keep his voice even as he slowly lost patience with Luke.

“Sheila had the plague for sure, but the Asian man?”

“As skin color is the most obvious visual sign that’s our starting point for segregation.

“That’s his natural skin color.”

“That’s too bad,” the sergeant major said nastily. “Now get in the truck. It’s not your concern.”

Luke clambered into the back of the truck and turned. “Why
ain’t they coming with us?”

“They will be processed, dealt with by, ah, a different department,” he replied, when Luke heard two sha
rp rapports from a pistol echo around them.

The
significance of the two shots hit Luke like a thump to the chest. He glanced back to see Sheila and the Asian slump to the ground in slow motion, after being executed. The sergeant major locked eyes with him and said. “Tough times, sir. Tough times.”

Luke flopped heavily onto a wooden bench betwe
en Jake, a sun-bleached surfer dude and an elderly, hefty African-American woman who shifted her bulk to make room. He finally spoke. “They . . . they executed two Americans in cold blood.”

Jake
chuckled. “Duuude,” he made the word last three syllables, “Where have you been? This has been going on all day.”

Luke reacted doubtfully. “It’s tru
e,” Winnie said. “It’s been escalating since it got dark – they’s killing on color. You can imagine they don’t gonna argue that. They came into the neighborhood ‘bout six just shooting randomly.”

Luke
shook his head trying to absorb all the facts. “This can’t be happening? Word must be getting out, telephones, e-mail, twitter, they can’t possibly contain this monstrous news.”

“Jammed it all,” said Jake. “Something to do with th
e Patriot’s Act. We’re in lock-down, roads, airports, seaports and you’ve seen what they’re doing to the incoming flights.”

“Sure, I landed one of them.”

Jake eyed him doubtfully. “You’re a pilot?”

“It’s a long story.” He rubbed his aching arm and th
ought about the recent events. “How deadly is the contagion?” Luke asked.

Jake said. “From my own experience it’s one hundred percent.”

“Shit. . .” He looked at Winnie who nodded slowly.

The truck’s diesel engine rattled, and the wagon vibrated as it started. The driver crunched it into gear and pulled away.

“Still, we’re considered savable, ‘cause, you know, “Jake said. “They’re taking us to a, like, one giant refugee camp, where they’re gonna to treat us.”

“You’ll be lucky.” Luke scoffed.

“What do ya mean?” asked Jake.

“There is no cure, man.” He shrugged and let the message sink in. “So, why are they rounding us up?”

Luke heard rapid gunfire and saw from the back of the rumbling truck yet another execution squad dispatching more victims and his spirits sank.

Winnie said. “Why are they saving some and killing others?”

“Beats me, although. . .” Luke tailed off, not liking the thought, then continued. “Let’s say this disease is ninety-nine percent fatal. In this part of Florida we’re still talking about hundreds of survivors trying to escape. They can’t protect the borders indefinitely, and if word gets out about the indiscriminate killing, then there’d be mass panic and everyone left would try either to escape, or hide. My guess is they’ll act all friendly, make out there’s food and shelter and a cure at these refugee camps and, well, kill us all at once in a convenient, enclosed venue.”

“
Duuude,” drawled Jake, “that is so sick.”

“It makes sense logistically. It’s what I’d do. And of course they need to consider the disease ridden corpses, how do you get rid of hundreds of thousands of dead bodies.”

Winnie snorted. “So you reckon they’ll take us to their version of a concentration camp where they’ll kill us systematically?”

“Yep, that’s about the truth of it,” Luke told his dazed companions.

01:30 AM

General Malloy’s entourage motored down the freeway unhindered. Although dark, he wore aviator sunglasses, sat up front of an open top jeep at the head of a procession of heavily armored vehicles. The convoy chugged from the freeway and approached the gates to the President’s summer residence, they slowed at the gatehouse that appeared un-manned and the entrance barrier pointed straight up in the air letting anyone into the President’s compound. “Sloppy,” snarled the General, “Very sloppy.”

The armored vehicles trundled under the barrier unchallenged. “This is the goddamn President’s home, and it’s been left unguarded.” He snatched a walkie-talkie. “Sergeant, ta
ke some men, find those damned sentries, and bring ‘em to me – no, scrub that - line ‘em up against the wall and shoot ‘em for dereliction of duty.”

“But, General...” came a hesitant reply.

“That’s all, Sergeant.” He switched off the walkie-talkie before further protest. He smiled when he saw in the rear-view mirror that a jeep near the back of the convoy veered off, performed a k-turn and went back to the guardhouse.

The sergeant yanked the jeep to a stop, by the illuminated guardhouse, “Serge, shouldn’t we be wearing one of those hazard material suits?” asked a nervous rookie.

The sergeant grinned. “Not this far up-country, soldier, we’re twenty miles north of the previous exclusion zone which was already fifty miles north of the outbreak, don’t sweat it, we’re safe.”

They strolled towards the guardhouse taking their time. “Serge, we got time for a quick cigarette?” asked the rookie.

The sergeant watched the general’s tail-lights disappearing down the avenue leading to the President’s home and nodded. “Make it quick, and I’ll have one.” He lit up and inhaled deeply, pondering the general’s instructions to shoot the errant guards. It sure was one major fuck-up to leave your post when you’re guarding the most important person on the planet, but to do it when a four star general is due to arrive? Jesus, that has to be the dumbest thing he had ever heard. He couldn’t wait to meet the pair of numb-nuts who were playing hooky. He took another puff on the cigarette keeping his eye on the brightly lit guardhouse.

Nope, still no sign of the idiot guards. T
he more he thought about it, the less bothered he felt about executing the fools. He ground out the cigarette butt underneath the sole of his heavy boot and marched towards the guardhouse. “C’mon, let’s go find these dopes.”

“You’re not really going to execute these guys, Serge?” Queried the rookie.

“Not me, Soldier, you are.” He grinned in the dark and watched the boy pale at this instruction. “These guys are too stupid to live. We’ll be doing them a favor, putting them out of their misery.” He booted open the door to the guard house and drew his weapon. The other soldiers did likewise. “Yo! Anybody here?” He waited for an answer then pointed at two of his colleagues and signaled for them to go on ahead.

Their training kicked in and they slinked on ahead hugging the walls, taking it in turns to cover open doorways, until they were in the co
ntrol room, the rookie gasped as he saw the two blackened guards on the floor laying in a pool of thick blood and vomit. “Holy shit.”