Contagious (8 page)

“Oh, he better not be showing his drawers here in our hotel. We have a strict no walking around in your underwear policy.”

“Please enforce that.”

“I will.”

There was a knock on his door, then Melissa, the food and beverage manager poked her head in. “Hey, Joel. Felicia just told me that JJ and his crew only drink fresh squeezed orange juice. I don’t think we have enough oranges. Should I run down to the store?”

“No. Joel snapped. “You aren’t running to the store. He’ll drink what we have or he doesn’t drink.”

“Okay, just checking.” Melissa started to close the door and stopped. “Oh, by the way, thanks for hiring Rayne.” She giggled like a teenager. “He’s so hot.”

The door closed.

Joel’s head lowered to the desk and gently he tapped his forehead against the surface a few times.

“Ben Gay won’t help that kind of headache
,” Walter said.

Joel lifted his head an inch and peered up at Walter.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s only Wednesday.” Joel sat up. “Can this week possibly get any worse?”

<><><><>

The images on the screen in the meeting room were grainy. Amita supposed they were probably grainy to begin with, and when enlarged to fit the flat screen, they became even more distorted.

They were simple surveillance videos of JFK airport, with no sound. But she didn’t need sound to decipher what was happening

It was one of the visual aids for those attending the emergency meeting that thankfully was coming to a close. Despite the fact that it was a packed room, her eyes went to her notes and to the screen while her mind screamed, ‘where did we go wrong?’

Taiwan was unofficially closing its borders.

The Plaza Hotel in Paris was filled to capacity with ill. Almost all the original one hundred quarantined were symptomatic.

Heathrow started showing virus effects as well.

Amita looked at the footage. She watched a man on the video cough and sit down.

She was glad Randall had been moved there. He would be a liaison for the WHO in the United States working in what would be a cross agency effort to contain the virus.

More than anything, Amita wanted to cry out once more that her place was in the lab or with patients, not playing virus P.I., but she knew that would be futile. She and Randall were, without a doubt, the chase and catch people.

“Incubation period is three to four days
,” Randall said. “Then there are four stages once they became symptomatic. Stage one is the onset of typical flu like symptoms. Stage two is full blown symptoms resembling that of pneumonia. Stage three is brain hemorrhage and the final stage is death. All of which take place in an unbelievable time frame of eighteen to twenty four hours.”

“Has it mutated more?” A man in a dark suit asked. He was from the government, a Senator or something, Amita didn’t know his name, she just called him the government man.

“Not since Taiwan. So we’re hopeful. It has all the same markers though. This…this virus … is brilliant. It is Mother Nature’s masterpiece of population control. It's just amazing. It was as if nature designed it to clean house and waited until now to release it.”

“Can you curb your enthusiasm some?” Government man asked.

“My apologies but I am just blown away by this. We have teams working on a cure. Even outside agencies are working around the clock. There are positive aspects. One, it looks as if it has an eighty percent communicability rate. This is judged by our Paris Hotel and Heathrow first contact victims.”

“That’s positive?”

“Could be a hundred percent, so you see it’s vital,” Randall spoke, “each person we quarantine, remembers every single thing they did since exposure. From stopping for gas to going to the store. We get everyone we can.”

“And how does this play out with your
‘sealing’ procedure?”

“Less symptoms, less contagious. If we get them while they are symptom free, they infect less people. Eventually we’re gonna find the end of the line.”

“And if we don’t find the end of the line or we miss one of these gas station stops, what then?”

“Then …” Randall exhaled. “We pray it burns itself out, because if we miss something or it gets even more ahead of us, then Nature will win this one.”

When Amita cuddled with her husband, not long after midnight, she told him two days’ time would let them know if they had to prepare for Uncle Bruno’s birthday. She dozed off and didn’t expect her phone to ring  less than three hours later, but it did.

It was Randall, and he sounded distraught, “We lost control.”

“What?” Amita sat up. “What happened in three hours?”

“Our loose end
,” he said. “I’m on my way to your house. Pack a bag. I’ll be there in twenty.”

Pack a bag?

Where was she going?

Randall’s big thing was always finding the end of the line. Find it, contain it, stop it.

That was if the veins of the monster hadn’t already moved in so many different directions they could never technically find an end.

Amita was barely dressed when he arrived at her home. Her head spun trying to take it all in. “Where am I going?”

“On site. To work on this. Ground zero just expanded. This is about to explode and we need to be there.”

“How?” She asked. “How did it happen so fast?”

“It didn’t happen fast. It just happened under our radar. This is big. It may be to the point where we’re not just shutting down buildings, but
cities
in the U.S,” Randall said. “Like you, I was watching that surveillance footage of JFK. I was hoping that some of those who looked ill were just coincidences.”

“There’s no such thing.”

“Exactly. Seventy-nine symptomatic people. But this one …” he produced a still photo, “bothered me. Look at her. What is her uniform?”

“Samson Budget Rental Car.”

Randall then pulled forth a map. “Samson is on the other end of the airport. This woman is confirmed stage one. Which means she had to be a first contact victim from a carrier from Flight 7430.”

“We ran cross checks on all those rental places. No one from flight 7430 rented from that place.”

“So we thought.” Randall held up a finger then slid a map, pointing to each location he described. “An emergency room doctor in Wilkes-Barre PA reports a case of BV-1....or so he believes. Not an hour later, at State College, we get another report. An hour later … three ill in Erie, PA. They were all hotel workers.”

“All a direct route from New York.”

“None of these are confirmed through testing. But … our missing passenger wasn’t just a traveler. She was a traveling bio bomb.”

“But there was no car rental from that missing passenger.”

“Ah...but there was. Here’s the connection. There were four car rentals in that immediate time frame after Flight 7430 landed. We made an error. One of the cars was rented to Semora Love. Semora drove to Erie PA., and she did a seminar for fifty or so people.”

“Semora isn’t our missing passenger.”

“Yeah, she is. I did an internet search. It’s an alias for Caroline Grimly.”

Amita’s hands went to her face. “She drove across the state and stayed at a hotel, doing a conference for fifty people.”

“But we believe we know where she is. Unfortunately, she did another seminar yesterday.”

“This is a nightmare.”

“Oh, yeah, it is,” Randall said. “Because our little woman who innocently trots about trying to save the world, may have started the end of the world with her first cough.”

<><><><>

It wasn’t even five in the morning and Joel wondered why  he
was even awake. The arrival of JJ Wylde and crew was nothing short of pandemonium, with JJ throwing a hissy fit because he didn’t have screaming fans outside.

“Someone get him a chamomile tea. Hurry!”
Some assistant shouted out. “There’s no chamomile? My God, what kind of place is this?”

Thankfully, Bianca always had her Chamomile bags and Joel snatched one up for the prima
-donna singer. Joel’s stress headache started and it ended with him sleeping on the couch in the suite because Bianca couldn’t take the ointment smell.

All well and fine, until he got a call from Walter.

There was a problem in the kitchen.

“Problem in the kitchen at 4:40 am?” Joel asked. “I’ll be right down.”

Joel tossed on a tee shirt and pair of jeans and headed down. Walter was standing outside the kitchen door. Clearly Joel could hear banging.

“Do we have kitchen staff on this early?” Joel asked.

“They come in at five. This isn’t the kitchen staff.”

“Who then?” Joel asked.

“One guess.”

“Our little pop star?”

“You got it.”

“Have you tried to handle this?” Joel asked.

“Oh, yeah, he got smart with me and before I lost my temper I called you.”

“Swell. Okay, stay here, call Rayne. I’ll handle it.” Joel pushed open the swinging doors and followed the sound of banging.

Sure enough, wearing shorts that were too big and rested just below his buttocks, exposing his boxer shorts, was the young JJ Wylde. He was moving pots and pans, opening cabinets.

“Don’t you sleep?” Joel asked.

“Sleeps done.” JJ turned around. His blonde hair was tucked under a backwards baseball cap. “Yo, you people don’t have Fruity Mashers? JJ been looking everywhere.”

“Fruity mashers?” Joel asked.

“Yo, yeah, it’s a breakfast cereal. JJ put it on his list.”

“Well we don’t have it. And I’d appreciate if you and your …” Joel waved his hand around and pointed to the average height, yet, heavily muscled man behind JJ
, “henchman would leave my kitchen.”

He swayed his head as if he had a muscle disorder. “Well, dog, looks like you gonna have to go and get some. JJ Wylde needs his Fruity Mashers.”

“Well, puppy, looks you’re out of luck and gonna have make do with Cheerios. Sorry about that. Joel Carson needs his kitchen back. ”

JJ’s arms went out. “Who?”

“Me. I’m Joel Carson. I thought we were all talking third person, here.”

“JJ wants Fruity Mashers,” JJ said. “And JJ …” Suddenly the young man’s eyes shifted out then up.

Joel smiled. He knew what that meant. He looked over his shoulder to see Rayne had walked in. “Oh, this my hotel special detail guard. Meet Rayne. Four time wrestling champ and a large man who is pissed off at the world right now. Rayne meet JJ Wylde and henchman.”

Rayne nodded. He towered over both of them.

“Now,” Joel said. “What were you asking for?”

JJ kept his eyes on Rayne. “Um, nothing. Cheerios sounds great, sir.”

“Ha.” Joel reached out with a slap to JJ’s arm. “That’s the spirit.”

“Joel!” Walter spoke rushed as he raced into the kitchen. “We have a problem.”

“Another one?” Joel asked. “But JJ and Rayne are here.”

“This is … this is big
,” Walter said. “Please.”

“Rayne, help him find the Cheerios.” Joel instructed, then left the kitchen and followed Walter. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, Joel, we’re in trouble.”

Just about to ask what Walter meant, Joel slid to
a stop when he arrived in the lobby. It looked like a spaceman invasion. People in white bio hazard suits moved about the lobby.

One in particular approached Joel. “Are you the hotel manager?” He spoke through the radio in his suit.

“I am.” Joel replied. “What … what’s going on?”

“My name is Daniel Hasbro from the CDC,” he said. “If you and I can speak in private, I need to get information and names from you. This hotel is shut down. Quarantined. No one gets in. No one gets out.”

<><><><>

Ava always set her alarm for at least  half an hour before she had to wake up. That way she could keep hitting the ‘snooze’ button. But as she silenced the first round of beeps, she jolted awake when she heard not just a knocking, but a steady banging on her front door.

She hurriedly grabbed her phone and looked. No missed calls.

The banging was steady and loud and seemed to set off every barking dog in the neighborhood.

In case of problems, she held her phone and stepped from her bedroom.

The pounding reverberated through her house.

Cassie came from her room at the same time as Calvin.

Cassie asked. “What’s going on?”

“I haven’t a clue,” Ava headed toward the steps. “I’ll go see.” She prepped her phone to dial 911 in case there as a problem and yelled out, 'I’m coming' as she made it down the stairs.

It was still semi dark and she turned on the living room light before opening the door.

Her heart pounded. Something was wrong. She was scared it was the police and perhaps it had to do with Rosie or that maybe Darren had been in an accident.

All those thoughts raced through her mind just as the door flung open.

She expected the police or a frantic neighbor.

Not a sight that made her scream out the breath she held.

His face was distorted in the bio hazard suit, and three more men were behind him.

“Ava Mason?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Were you at the Ambassador Suites Hotel yesterday afternoon?”

“I was.”

“We need you to come with us.”

“What? No.” Ava backed up as the man stepped into the house. The man reached for her arm. “Kids!” She cried out. “Call your dad!”

“There are others here?” the man asked, then signaled the man behind him.

Like soldiers they stormed into her home.

Cassie was already half way down the stairs and they grabbed her.

The other two rushed up the stairs.

“No!” Ava fought. “The kids weren’t there. Leave them alone.”

“Ma’am, you need to come with us.” The man took hold of her arm. “Now.”

“Can I take my purse? Please, I need it.” Ava asked frantically. When the man nodded. She reached for her purse on the coat tree and slipped her phone inside.

Cassie cried out ‘no’, fighting the person that held her around the waist.

“Put her down.” Ava demanded

“Mommy!” Landon’s voice rang out. “Mommy, help!”

Two more suited men came down the steps. One escorted a reluctant, Calvin, the other carried Landon kicking and screaming.

It was mayhem. What was going on? Ava’s head spun. She was barely awake, not even dressed; they didn’t allow them time to process what was going on or why they were being taken. They rushed in and grabbed them. Within two minutes, they were dragged from their home.

All three kids cried and verbally fought.

Ava was just in shock and clutched her purse as they pushed her toward a van.

“Clear,” she heard the one man say. “No one else in the house.”

“Shut it down. Seal it.” Another said.

The back doors to the white van opened and they nudged Ava inside. She climbed up, tripping when her bare feet caught the metal step. She landed face first on the floor of the van.

Calvin helped her. “You ok?”

Ava nodded.

They pushed Cassie in forcefully, but were a bit
gentler with Landon.

The doors slammed closed and within seconds the van started moving quickly.

No windows. No way to see. Just a dark tin box. There were two bench seats in the van. The twins sat on one. Ava, still off balance, feeling her way, sat down on the other and lifted Landon onto her lap.

She wished she could see her family. She could only hear them breathe and sniffle as she wrapped her arms tightly around Landon.

The child curled into her and cried. “I wanna go home.”

“I know,” Ava said.

In a quivering voice, Cassie asked. “What’s going on? Why did they take us?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m scared, Ava, I’m really scared,” Cassie said.

“I know.” Ava reached out her hand in the darkness trying to grab a hold of one of them. She didn’t know who she grabbed, but she connected with a hand and desperately clutched it. “I’m scared too.”

In the back of that van, as they moved toward an unknown destination, encompassed by darkness, fear and confusion, they held on to each other as best as they could.