Contagious (4 page)

“Lots happening this week. More than usual.” Joel shrugged. “One would think we’re getting ready for the freaking apocalypse.” Another laugh by Joel and he walked
away, headed to find Walter who was outside the private dining area of the restaurant.

Joel couldn’t imagine what sort of problem there was with funeral attendees.

Walter had been head of security since that particular hotel opened fifteen years earlier and before that, he ran security for  another. He had been part of the corporate chain for his whole life.

He was a former military man and his age and wisdom showed through not only on his resume, but when Walter talked to anyone, he lectured.

A big guy, with perfectly manicured thick white hair. His face was rough and gruff and no one would believe he was seventy-four. Walter was as serious as they came and Joel could swear he never saw him smile or laugh.

As if he were guarding the president, Walter stood watch, just outside the private dining door.

“How’s it going?” Joel asked. Then turned his head slightly in surprise to a bang that came from outside.

“Sad. Very sad. Although I have to say, people don’t mourn like they used to.  Used to be tears. Now they laugh. I don’t get it. This is sad. Such a young guy that died.”

“Man, a shame. How young?”

“Eighty.”

“Walter, eighty is not young.”

“It is when you’re getting there.”

Again, Joel turned his head to more banging. “What is that?”

“The problem I radioed about.”

“Why didn’t you take care of it?”

“These people asked for security. Apparently, Aunt Leona has had a bit too much to drink
,” Walter said. “The deceased’s wife said she is a nasty drunk.”

“What is that noise?”

“Another reason I won’t handle it. The person making it.”

“Who?”

“Ever want to sing the song, ‘Rain, rain go away come again some other day'?  I do, only I wanna say, ‘go away and come again when I’m no longer working here and retired. Although it doesn’t rhythm or have any rhythmic potential.”

“I’ll handle him.”

“Please.”

The song referred to by Walter only meant one person, Rayne the garbage man.

He had to be banging something loud and hard if it echoed from the back into the hotel. Joel took the kitchen door outside where the noise was even louder.

The refuse truck was parked near the door, and Brad was seated in the driver seat playing with his phone.

Joel banged on his door and looked up. “Hey!”

“Oh, hey, Joel.”

“Can’t you hear that?” Joel asked.

“I kinda blocked him out. He needs to release some frustration.”

“Not in my parking lot, he doesn’t.” A shake of his head and Joel walked around the truck to see Rayne.

His long black ponytail was disheveled and his brawny body looked like it gave all it could as Rayne swing a baseball bat into the sideways tipped dumpsters.

“Rayne!” Joel blasted. “What the hell is the matter with you? Knock it off!’

Rayne stopped, peered over his shoulder. “Hey, Joel. I was … uh getting out the dents.”

“The dents?”

“Yeah, the dumpster was pretty dented.”

“It’s a dumpster.” Joel walked to him.

“At a nice hotel.”

“Yes, Rayne, and nice hotels don’t have garbage men beating the hell out of a dumpster. It’s loud. We have people inside mourning the loss of a young man.”

“Sorry.” Rayne took a step and slowly leaned toward Joel.

“What? You look like you’re gonna kiss me.”

“No. You smell.”

“Stop it.”

Rayne sniffed. “You smell like old people.”

“You smell like garbage.” Joel reached down and swiped the bat from Rayne’s hand. “What’s wrong? Brad said you’re frustrated. Did you lose this weekend? I know you had a big match.”

“No, I won.” Rayne sighed out. “My girlfriend says she’s leaving me.”

“That sucks. But women say that all the time. Probably trying to bargain. What does she want to keep her from leaving?”

“She wants me to quit wrestling.”

“Well you tell her it’s non-negotiable. My wife made me give up softball. I was miserable.”

“Wait. You still play softball.”

“I gave it up for a day. Worst mistake I ever made. She’s not going anywhere. Trust me. You’re a wrestling superstar. Who wants to give that up?”

Rayne smiled. “You’re a pretty cool guy.”

“Thanks.” Joel gave a swat to Rayne’s back. “Come on in. We just took down the buffet and left everything in the back for you and Brad. Come pack up some containers.” He walked to the truck, handing Brad the bat, and informed him that Rayne would be out with some left overs.

Brad gave a thumbs up.

“So, uh, big guy,” Joe said as they walked to the kitchen door, “You have plans for Wednesday through Saturday? You on the card?”

“Not yet, I have to call. What’s up?”

“Ever hear of JJ Wylde? “

“Who hasn’t?”

“Yeah, well, he got a concert here Thursday, and they  arrive on Wednesday. I wanted to hire you on as extra security.”

“I thought he had his own.”

“Not for him,” Joel said. “For us. Just in case he pulls his antics.”

“Sure. For a minute there I was scared you were gonna ask me out.”

“You’re not that hot.” Joel opened the kitchen door.

Typical, especially when they knew it was ‘collection’ day, the kitchen workers had left the buffet tins on the back counter.

They were there, but the workers were all standing around watching the TV.

“What’s going on?” Joel asked the group of five kitchen workers.

Ernie, one of his cooks spoke, “Look at this, Joel. It’s some scary shit. They quarantined a hotel in Paris. Some sort of virus.  They’re looking for planes now.”

“Was it a terror attack?” Joel asked.

Ernie shook his head. “No, an outbreak.”

The newscaster’s voice spoke.
“Government officials are stating that they are erring on the side of caution with what appears to be a singular outbreak of a new strain of flu …”

Softly Rayne said, “But it’s not flu season.”

The newscaster continued.
“However, these cases of new flu fall out of typical flu season.”

Joel looked at Rayne then back to the television.

Ernie said. “The plastic scares me more than anything. Why the plastic?”

Rayne answered. “To seal it in like a baggie.”

The newscaster stated,
“They are sealing the building. The official statement is, that unlike the flu, this strain is more contagious via contact with the infected.”

“Got to be airborne and deadly,” Rayne said. “Otherwise, why seal it?”

“But our newsroom health officials speculate that it probably is an airborne strain and deadly.”

Joel cast another double take look to Rayne.

Another employee spoke up. “All this. Thank God, it’s just that hotel.”

“Can’t be
,” Rayne said. “Bet me it’s elsewhere recently. This is a lot of caution for something they don’t know anything about.”

“While the WHO is stating this is the first suspicious case, inside sources claim this is the fifth outbreak in two months.”

“This whole sealing in plastic thing” Rayne stated, “is based on theory. Seal the building of the outbreak, then wait it out for the quarantine. Leave the sick in there. I wouldn't be surprised to hear they were bringing sick people into the hot zone. Keeps it tight in one place.”

‘There are reports that people have been brought into the hotel along with medical equipment, almost as if they were making it an expedient hospital.”

“Hope the hospitals aren't filled.” Rayne murmured.

“Which leads us to hope this is after all, just caution and not indication that the hospitals are filling up.”

“Rayne,” Joel snapped. “What the hell? Are you psychic? How do you know what they’re gonna say before they say it?”

Rayne shrugged. “I like science and viruses. I read text books. When you wrestle you suffer brain damage and I want to keep my brain working.”

“By studying viruses.”

“Text books. It’s a hobby. Everyone has one.”

“Not reading text books. I’m impressed. Why are you hauling garbage if you know so much?”

“Because I’m not smart
,” Rayne said. “It’s like baseball cards and sports statistics, only I know this stuff.”

“Do you think we should worry about this?” Joel asked.

“How should I know? I’m not a scientist.”

Joel grumbled. “Asshole.” He shook his head. “Well, I’m gonna say we don’t worry about this. We get back to work, then watch the news. After all,” Joel said
, “we’re here. This thing is an ocean away.”

<><><><>

“It’s okay, baby,” Amita said on the phone. “Mommy will be home shortly. Tomorrow. I promise.”

And she wasn’t lying.

Amita had to be where the contagion was or at least follow it, and that was for certain, in the United States.

She would leave Paris the next day and would work from the CDC. More than anything she wanted to be in the lab, hands on with the virus, but instead she was limited to monitoring it on a computer screen.

The last thing they wanted was to have to quarantine Amita in Paris.

Without a doubt it was her BV-1, or at least a variation of it. She knew the second she looked at the blood sample. She felt discouraged. She knew how strong BV-1 was.

It was every virologists’ nightmare.

Randall Howard, a brilliant epidemiologist with WHO had arrived in Paris. It was his idea to test the ‘Sealed In’ theory.

Shut down any building that was a hot zone. No one gets in or out.

Do not bring the infected to a public hospital, bring them to the hot zone to treat them. Unless the hospital was a hot zone.

The less moving around of the sick, the less chance of spreading it.

“It’s back,” Randall stated to Amita. “The zones we deemed clear, aren’t. There are a lot of infected now in Taiwan.”

Amita exhaled. “We have to move to a cure next.”

“Do we have time? The only thing that works in our favor is that it burns out fast. We have to keep chasing it, containing it, until it burns out. Which it will.”

“Now it does. But who knows with the next mutation. This virus is a zoonotic and RNA based virus, which means …”

“It will mutate to survive.”

“Exactly,” Amita said. “We already have nine hotel workers ill with BV-1, even though we haven't yet confirmed it. We have another hotel reporting the illness. That was traced to the same flight as Bella Lorenz. Both coming out of India.”

“The people on that flight?”

“We’re locating them.” Amita lowered her head. “This is a nightmare, Randall. They were ahead of us before we knew they had it. How many of them are ill?”

“We don’t know. At least we’re a step ahead on the
fashion crew.” Randall asked. “Good news is we located them. Bad news is, they were on two different flights and every one of them is sick. Aside from Dilucco, we lost another member from that group. She was in New York. Any word on those flights?”

“The first flight … those people are accounted for. But flight 7430, we’re missing a few.”

“We’ll find them. This virus has gone public. People are aware.”

“Are they?” Amita asked. “How many emergency rooms will recognize or pay attention to this
? This thing infects and kills. Period. I feel as if this containment we’re trying to do is all for naught.”

“Do you have a better idea?” Randall asked. “We all knew one day, something would come along that would kick our asses. This could be it. Then again, we thought SARS was it. We thought MERS was it. We played a game of chase and catch with them until they slowed down. God, willing, we’ll do the same here.”

“This is faster than either of them, and you know it.”

“We need to look at each infected person like an animal loose from the zoo. We just have to catch them all. Once we do, we can contain it.”

Amita nodded. She fought the feeling of defeat. She was a fighter and this virus wasn’t going to get the best of her. Even if she had to continue to play the game of cat and mouse, chasing, catching, and quarantining the infected areas.

She would follow every lead and leave no stone unturned.

Unless of course, they missed a stone. In that case, without even knowing it, they could lose control and the virus, if it continued on its current mutation path, would ultimately prevail.