Deep Down (Sam Stone Book 1) (7 page)

A cold December wind buffeted the mobile CDC command center, setting it to rocking slightly on its wheels as it sat in the small parking lot of the Strata museum.

Logan Stanley ignored the rocking motion under his feet as he stood rigidly in front of his boss.  Anger flared through every bone in his body and he strained to keep it in check.

“You’re not serious, Sir?” Logan asked, staring hard at his superior, unwilling to believe that the man was so incredibly cold-hearted.

Dennis Malnon didn’t even flinch at his tone.  The man seemed either not to notice Logan’s anger, or he simply did not care whether Logan was angry or not.  Either way, what he was proposing was astounding, and Logan couldn’t let it go.

Slim, bordering on emaciated, the CDC supervisor was also overly tall, giving him a stork-like appearance.   His long, beaked nose accentuated this resemblance, as did his beady eyes, slightly stooped shoulders and a head full of white hair that had been cut short, combed neatly and plastered to his skull with lots of hair product. The man’s angular, avian face showed no emotion as he gazed back at Logan.

“I’m completely serious, Logan.  In situations like these, when you’re dealing with an unknown, a hundred or so lives is an acceptable loss when compared to a global pandemic.”

“But, Sir, these people have families, loved ones.  They are not meaningless.  They’re human beings and they deserve our help,” Logan argued, his gut churning at the thought of simply allowing all those who were under quarantine down in the  museum to die, as his boss had just suggested they may need to do. 

“And we will give it our best effort, Logan.  Our very best.  But should that fail, those people are not coming out of the mines so that they can infect others.  Our primary mission here is containment.”

Logan shook his head, disgusted.  He’d come to work for the CDC to help people and save lives, not end them. 

“Sir, I must protest.  This isn’t right. Our primary mission here should be to save lives.  Every life. All of them.”

Dennis Malnon frowned at him, “Protest all you like, Logan, it won’t change the outcome.  We’ve got a specialist in infectious bacteria on the way.  Hopefully he’ll arrive before they run out of oxygen down there, because I’m not turning the air back on without his assurance that we will not be releasing a contagion into the air.  Water either.  That’s standard protocol in quarantine, you know that.”

“But, Dennis, this is a completely different situation.  There are no protocols for this.   These people are 640 feet below ground!   How many quarantine areas have you worked when that’s been the case?   Zero, because there haven’t been any to my knowledge.  This is a special circumstance.  Those people will die without air!”

Dennis’s expression grew stonier, and he all but glared at Logan.  “My orders stand, Logan.  Don’t cross me on this.”

Logan glared back.   “Sir, please make sure that my protest of your actions goes on record then.  I want no part in the death of these people.  They don’t even know what they’re up against, and you’re depriving them of even a chance at surviving it.”

Chapter Eleve
n

The dim cavern practically hummed with the tension of the visitors trapped under its carved, merrily sparkling ceiling.  Murmured words of agitation floated on the still, stagnant air, creating a soft susurration of anxiety.

A woman near Jenny’s table stood up suddenly and motioned for the doctor to come closer. 

The man did, moving across the room in an unhurried stride, his white suit crackling quietly.

“I’m not feeling well at all,” the woman said when the doctor stopped at her side.

“What are your symptoms?” the doctor asked.

“My head hurts and my chest feels tight, like I can’t draw in enough air.  Also, my thoughts seem to be fuzzy and jumbled,” she said, her hands fluttering nervously at her waist.

Jenny looked more closely at the woman.  Tall and slightly pudgy, with smooth, dark ebony skin and pretty brown eyes, the woman appeared to be in her mid-forties.  Though her skin was not fair, Jenny could see a slight yellowish tone to it that looked unhealthy.  Small beads of sweat were forming on the woman’s upper lip, despite the cool temperature in the cavern, adding to her unhealthy appearance.

“Those are all symptoms of lack of oxygen, and, in this situation, do not seem to be out of the ordinary.  Please sit down and remain calm,” the doctor instructed in a bland monotone, turning to move away.

“So I don’t have the bacteria?” she asked, no longer fluttering her hands, but wringing them together tightly in a silent, telltale sign of anxiety.

He turned back to her, his voice neutral and uncaring, ”Ma’am, everyone down here, with the exception of myself and my two men wearing quarantine suits, is assumed to have the bacteria already in their systems.”

The woman gasped, looking stricken, and Jenny could see her face blanch visibly in the dim light, her dark skin taking on a chalky tone.

“Everyone?” she asked, voice trembling, hands now clutched together at her ample bosom in fright.

The doctor nodded, his enormous hood moving slightly to the affirmative, still seeming unperturbed by the woman’s obvious distress.  Jenny thought that the man would do well to improve his doctorly manner, as he seemed to have none at all, appearing as though he didn’t really care whether they all lived.  Or whether they all died.

He said nothing to calm the woman’s nerves, cruelly unmoved by the horror expressed in the woman’s voice.  “Yes, until proven otherwise, everyone is assumed to have it.  We will begin blood tests shortly to rule out those who may or may not be infected. Until then, as I said, please take your seat and remain calm.”

“Calm?” she asked. “You’re not serious, are you? You’ve just told me that I have symptoms of oxygen deprivation when there’s supposed to be plenty of oxygen in here with us, and, in addition to that, you say that this entire group of people is suspected to be infected with some unknown bacteria, and you’d like for me to remain calm?  How can I sit and do nothing when I’m slowly suffocating?”

The lady sitting next to the woman giggled, then, looking horrified at her own outburst, quickly covered her mouth with both hands.

The woman glared down at the giggler. “This is not funny, Sadie.  There’s nothing funny about this situation.”

Sadie giggled again, then guffawed loudly.  She caught her breath and gasped, “I couldn’t agree more.  Nothing funny here.  However, I can’t seem to stop laughing!”

The doctor stepped closer to Sadie, his manner now intent.  Interested, even.

As the woman laughed, he bent down to examine her face through the clear plastic face shield in his suit. 

“Please open your eyes very wide for me,” he instructed, peering closely at her.

Sadie did as he asked, opening her eyes wide as she laughed and laughed, clutching her stomach.

“I can’t stop laughing,” she gasped.

“Fascinating,” the doctor said, resuming his standing position.  “Sadie, I’d like for you to step out to the exit, where one of my men will escort you to a different area.”

Sadie stood with difficulty, still laughing uncontrollably and clutching at her own heaving sides, but the other woman stopped her from moving toward the exit with a hand upon her shoulder.  “Just a moment. Doctor, where will they be taking her?”

Even in the bulky suit, Jenny could see the man shrug his shoulders, “This woman needs to be separated from the rest of the group. Her behavior is obviously aberrant, which could signal infection. Her uncontrollable laughter is a sure sign of neurological instability.  This could mean that the bacteria is able to affect its host neurologically, and we will need to run a battery of tests if that is proven to be the case.”

The woman removed her hand from Sadie’s shoulder, her face a mask of fear and anxiety, and Sadie stumbled toward the exit, her uncontrollable guffaws echoing off the glittering walls of the cavern.

The woman watched her go, once again wringing her hands.

When Sadie stepped out of the cavern, still laughing, supported almost entirely by the two other men in quarantine suits, the woman stepped closer to the doctor. 

“That’s my baby sister,” she said.  “I want to know what you’re going to do to help her. And, I want to know what you’re going to do about the lack of oxygen down here.”

The doctor took a step back from the woman, “Dear lady, at the present time there is nothing that I can do to remedy either situation.  I’m simply here to determine infection and, if possible, symptoms that signify infection.  Nothing more.”

The woman looked as if the doctor had just delivered a hard punch to her midsection.  She gaped at him for a silent second before once again finding her voice.

“Nothing more?  You’re not here to help?”

“Sadly, no,” the doctor said, then turned to walk away.

Jenny felt anger begin to roil within her stomach as she watched the woman sink back into her chair, looking shocked, and more than a little afraid.   At that moment, it was apparent to Jenny that the worst was yet to come. 

If the doctor’s statement was to be believed, and she did believe him, then no efforts would be made to prolong their lives.  The quarantine was not a quarantine at all, but a death watch.  The doctor and his men were simply there to run some tests, observe the infected, and watch them until they expired.  Or didn’t.

If it was not the doctor’s job to try to save them, perhaps that duty fell to the specialist who was en route, but, based on what measure of assistance the CDC had provided so far, Jenny held out little hope that this was going to be the case.

In the mean time, the doctor had little to worry about. He’d avoid infection because of his quarantine suit, and, also thanks to the suit, he wouldn’t have to worry about the lack of oxygen in the mines either.  He was safe, no matter what happened to those who were exposed and vulnerable. 

Jenny snorted as she watched the doctor amble away.  Something had to be done and soon. This situation was looking dire, and they could not just let it progress.  If the doctor and the CDC were not there to help, then they needed some outside assistance.  But without cell service, with the quarantine in effect, how would she contact anyone on the surface to get this assistance?

Across the cavern, a young woman stood up and began screaming uncontrollably.  Jenny jumped at the sound.  Just like with the boy, the woman was screaming for all she was worth, her neck muscles straining, her mouth wide open, her voice at full volume.  The young woman had her head tipped up to the ceiling, screaming wildly, as if she were a dog howling in misery, crying out helplessly in despair and anguish so deep that it could not be contained any longer within her body and had to be let out in the form of an unending scream.

The doctor turned from his course toward the exit and moved closer to the young woman, taking her by the arm when he got to her side and then dragging her toward the exit as she screamed and screamed.

At the sound of the woman’s screaming, gooseflesh again prickled on the tender flesh of Jenny’s arms and she half rose out of her seat, but Stone’s hand on her arm stopped the motion before it could be completed.  He shook his head at her, silently cautioning her to do nothing.   And, in that moment, Jenny realized that there
was
truly nothing she could do for the woman.  She had no treatment against the bacteria.  She could do nothing to salve the woman’s misery or her pain.

Jenny slowly settled back into her chair, the bitter taste of helplessness settling in at the back of her throat.  She badly wanted to ease the woman’s suffering. Placing her hand over Stone’s where it rested upon her arm, Jenny took what comfort she could in the warmth of this touch, even as the woman’s pathetic screams echoed harshly inside the cavern.

Knowing that the doctor would do nothing at all to ease the woman’s suffering was almost more than Jenny could bear.  The thought fanned her righteous anger, urging her silently to
do something.

Several people from the woman’s table protested as the young lady was rudely manhandled by the doctor, but the man pushed their clinging hands away and motioned for the security guards.

The two remaining armed guards, Stan and John, approached quickly at the doctor’s summons and the people backed down immediately, obviously afraid that they might become another murder victim if they should happen to protest too much. It was this fear that kept the people in check, allowing the doctor to hustle the girl over to the exit, where he turned her over to his two companions.  She was still screaming as they led her out of the cavern.

As the young woman was being led off down the tunnels, her shrieks still audible as she grew farther away, the man in one of the chairs next to Jenny’s table began to cough violently. 

The doctor made his way over to the man’s side, yet he did nothing to help as the man wheezed and gasped for breath.  He simply watched, as if the man was an interesting specimen that had been positioned under a microscope for the sole purpose of being studied.

“Damn it, man, do something,” Stone said, shooting to his feet, his fists balled tight with ineffectual anger. 

“As I said, there is nothing that I can do for him,” the doctor said, seemingly unperturbed that a man was possibly dying right before his eyes.

Stone stormed over to the table, ignoring the attention of the guards, and wrenched the inhaler from his pocket.  “We’ve stopped other coughing attacks with an inhaler, but this one is empty.”

“I don’t have an inhaler,” the doctor told him.

Jenny felt a sudden, extreme urge to kick the man.  How could he remain so dispassionate?  Where was his human kindness?  Why did the suffering of these people do nothing to stimulate a sympathetic response?  Surely, in his calling to become a doctor, he had, at one time, once felt the urge to help the sick and suffering?   It took all of Jenny’s willpower to remain in her chair.  To do nothing, for there was
nothing
that she could do.

The man’s coughing turned to wheezing and he slumped back in his chair. The doctor reached out dispassionately to lift one of the man’s lids and look into his eye, then he muttered something to himself that Jenny couldn’t quite make out, although it sounded like he said “
very interesting”.

Stone turned to the other visitors. 

“Does
anyone
have a rescue inhaler?”

There was a pregnant pause.  No one volunteered an inhaler.

“Damn it!  He’s dying!” Stone shouted.

The other remaining visitors all stared at him like frightened sheep.  There must not be another inhaler amongst the lot of them.

Jenny could stand it no longer.  She leapt from her chair and moved to Stone’s side.  The man in the chair was barely breathing now. His stocky body was slowly going limp, but the lines of anguish on his face expressed his silent agony.

Jenny’s heart squeezed in empathy.  She
knew
how he felt.

“Try it anyway, Stone.  There might be a tiny bit left in the inhaler.  Even a little might help,” she said, shouldering in front of the doctor before gently reaching out to draw back the man’s head as it lolled on his shoulders.

Stone shook the inhaler vigorously, then cursed. 

“It feels totally empty,” he said.

He put the inhaler to the man’s lips and depressed it.  Jenny heard a hollow hiss, then a wet sputter, much like the sound a can of Ready Whip makes just as the last of the cream is ejected.

“There was a little.  He got just a little. I just hope it was enough,” Jenny said, her voice seeming to be overly loud in the hush of the cavern as all waited to see if the man had drawn his last breath.

A tense second passed.  Then another.  Jenny held the man’s head in her hands, willing him silently to breathe.

When there seemed to be no reaction, she used one hand to pat the man’s cheek gently. 

“Breathe,” she urged quietly.  “Breathe it in!  Try!”

The man’s eyelids fluttered and she thought that she heard him wheeze in a slight breath.

Jenny stared down at him intently, heart pounding, waiting to see if he was able to draw in another breath.  Her heart broke for the man as he struggled.  She knew well the pain and fear that accompanied the feeling of not being able to draw in life-giving oxygen.  It wasn’t a sensation that she wouldn’t wish upon anyone.