Sick (18 page)

“And Ash?” the DOP asked.

“As you know we traced the original car to a parking garage at a casino in Nevada. I then gave a team instructions to trace the paths of every car that left that garage in the following four hours.”

Shell’s face was replaced by a thermal satellite image. Along the left side was a busy freeway running basically from bottom to top. It was covered with dozens of bright, warm blobs indicating vehicles.

“Please notice the spot near the midpoint of the picture. This is the most likely candidate.”

The spot in question was down an empty road that led off from the freeway. It was faint, but definitely warmer than the surrounding area.

“We were able to trace this car from the casino to this point. The heat signature you are looking at was generated by a person sitting inside a car. When it arrived here, there were two people, one up front, and one lying in the back. The driver got out, walked to the road, and was picked up three minutes later.” He then explained how the person in back got out, and eventually took a seat up front. He showed another picture. In this one, a larger vehicle was parked next to the smaller one. “The man transferred to the new vehicle and they left.”

“Were you able to follow it, too?” the DOP asked.

Shell hesitated. “We were able to follow them south for about twenty minutes. But we experienced a transmission problem that took us off line for an hour. In that gap, we lost them.”

“So you’re no closer to finding him now than you were earlier.”

“We are very hopeful that Dr. Karp’s suggestion of exposing Ash through the media will work,” Shell said, surprising Karp with his implied praise. “At the very least, it will be a long time before he can ever show his face again. Which means he’ll be unable to cause us any problems.”

“We don’t want that to be a reason for you to stop looking, though,” the DOP said.

“Of course not. It’s a top priority.”

“Have we figured out yet who was behind his escape?”

“By the level of organization involved, I think we’re dealing with the same people who aided Lauren Scott last year.”

Lauren Scott?
The doctor hadn’t thought of her in a while.

“Thank you, Mr. Shell. You and Major Ross are excused.”

“Yes, sir,” Major Ross said.

“Thank you, sir,” Mr. Shell replied.

A moment later,
Connection Terminated
appeared where both of their faces had been.

“Dr. Karp,” the DOP said.

The doctor straightened in his chair. “Yes, sir?”

“First, progress on the vaccine?”

“As I’ve stated before, these things take time, but we feel like we’re getting very close now.”

“And the problem with the different reactions between the sexes?”

“We’re confident that we’ll have that solved shortly.”

“Good. See that it is,” the DOP said. “Now, about the virus. I do not want Mr. Shell privy to any of the…safeguards. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” the doctor said, a bit unsure. “May I ask why, sir?”

There was no response for a moment, then, “Let’s just say that your virus is not the only thing that’s being tested.”

Before Dr. Karp could say anything else, the black screen that represented the Director of Preparation was suddenly replaced by the words
Connection Terminated
.

25

The orderly was glad that they’d finally decided to room his two patients together. It had decidedly improved both their spirits, and made keeping an eye on them easier for him.

He watched them in the monitor, talking to each other.

The boy was sitting on his sister’s bed. He usually did that. The girl, while markedly improved, was still taking her time fully recovering. She tired easily, and still wasn’t eating enough to remove the IV from her arm.

The orderly turned up the volume so he could hear.

“…mise?” the boy asked.

“Of course.”

“Then I promise, too.”

She held out her arms and he fell into them, letting her hug him tight.

A few tears rolled down the boy’s face, but the orderly could see that he was attempting to be strong, attempting to be an adult years before he should even think about it.

“If they try,” the boy said, “I won’t let them.”

“I won’t let them, either,” his sister told him. “We only have each other now, so we have to stick together.”

The boy nodded. Several moments passed, then he said, “Do you really think there’s a heaven?”

She stroked his head. “Yes, of course.”

“So Mom and Dad are there? Thinking about us?”

“I think they’re thinking about us as much as we’re thinking about them.”

“I’m thinking about them all the time.”

“Exact—”

The orderly turned the sound down, wishing he had done so sooner.

• • •

Paul Unger and Nick Regan were half-brothers and best friends. Paul was a year older than Nick, and though he had an on-again, off-again relationship with his birth father, he really considered Nick’s dad his, too.

While they lived in Randsburg, California, Paul and Nick attended high school twenty-five miles away in Ridgecrest. That meant they had to get up earlier every morning than most people in town so they could catch the bus.

The morning of the quarantine, their mom, as she always did, flipped on the TV to catch the news while they ate breakfast. Even at that early hour, the quarantine had already been enlarged.

“Sarge!” their mom had yelled. “Sarge, quick! You have to see this.”

Their dad—Nick’s biological and Paul’s chosen—rushed into the kitchen, pulling a robe over the gym shorts and T-shirt he usually slept in.

“What is it?”

She turned up the television, and the four of them watched with growing horror as the news reported the expanding outbreak and the new quarantine zone. When a map showing the actual boundary lines of the zone appeared on the screen, the true realization of their situation hit home.

“That’s us, Dad,” Nick said. “We’re in the zone.”

On the screen, the anchor said, “The CDC is asking all those in the Sage Flu quarantine zone to remain in their homes, and to avoid contact with anyone else. If you have questions, or are in need of medications, medical attention, or do not have enough food in your house, an 800 number has been set up to provide assistance.” The promised number appeared on the screen.

Nick smiled. “I guess this means the bus isn’t coming.”

“Even if it does, you’re not getting on it,” his mother said, taking him more seriously than he meant.

Paul glanced at his stepdad. “The people who are sick are a long way away from here. Why are they making us stay inside?”

Sarge had come into marriage and family after spending twenty years in the Army, so he was a bit older father than most of the kids had. He was also a bit more experienced, having traveled the world and worked in, among other places, several base hospitals. So although Sarge didn’t have a medical degree, Paul knew his stepdad might actually know the answer, or at least have an educated guess.

But if he did, he kept it to himself, because he only said, “They’re probably just being cautious.”

In a way, that answer scared Paul more than something concrete would have.

With little else to do, they, like most of the people in the zone, stayed indoors glued to the television. So they were all sitting in the living room in the early afternoon when the video of the Tehachapi roadblock riot was played. As soon as it ended, Sarge picked up the remote and turned the TV off.

The others looked at each other, confused, then Nick said, “Dad?”

Sarge stared at the television screen, saying nothing.

“Dad, what is it?”

After another moment, Sarge took a deep breath, then looked around at his family.

“Boys, can you give your mother and me a moment, please?”

“Why?” Paul asked. “What is it?”

“Please,” Sarge said again.

“Sure,” Nick said, standing. “Sure. No problem. Come on, Paul.”

Paul hesitated a second, looking at Sarge, then rose and followed his brother into the hallway that led to their shared bedroom. Nick was going to head all the way back, but as soon as they were out of their parents’ sight, Paul grabbed his brother’s arm, put a finger to his own lips and said, “Shhhh.” He pulled Nick down to the floor, and they crawled back to the open end of the hallway to listen.

“You can’t know that,” their mother said, sounding scared.

“Vonda, this is going to get worse before it gets better, maybe a lot worse. They want us to stay in our homes, but we’re still sitting ducks here. The only way we can insure the boys don’t get sick is to get them out of here, out of this zone.”

“They’re shooting people who were trying to get
in
. They won’t even think twice about doing the same to someone trying to get out.”

“I’ve been thinking about that, and I think I might know a way.”

“What
way
are you talking about?” she asked.

“Better if I tell them at the same time.”

“I don’t know. I’d rather they just stay here.”

“Sweetheart, we can’t argue about this. It’s our boys’ lives we’re talking about. If they stay here, I think there’s a good chance they’re going to die.”

There was silence for a moment, then, “Okay.”

Sarge suddenly raised his voice. “Boys?”

Paul motioned for Nick to crawl back down the hallway with him.

“Boys! Come back out here!”

Once they reached the door to their room, Paul said, “What?”

“Come out here,” Sarge said. “Your mother and I need to talk to you.”

A few seconds later, they were all sitting around the living room.

“I think the news people aren’t telling us everything,” Sarge began. “My guess is they probably haven’t even been told themselves. Here’s the thing. I think this illness is a lot worse than they’re making it out to be. The reason we’re in the zone now is because someone who was sick must have passed through this area at some point. That means there’s a chance someone right here in town is infected, maybe more than one.” He looked down at his hands for a second, then back at the boys. “The bottom line is, you can’t stay here. If you do, you might die. Part of our jobs as parents is doing everything we can to keep our kids alive. So I want you two to get out of the quarantine area.”

“What about you and Mom?” Nick asked. “You’re coming with us, right?”

“My hip would never make it,” Sarge said. It was something that had bothered him for years. “And your mother…”

He seemed unable to finish, so their mom said, “I’d only slow you down.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Nick argued.

But they all knew she would. Their mom had put on some weight over the years. Not enough to be called fat, but enough to make her winded after a long walk.

“She’s staying with me,” Sarge said. “That’s not open for discussion.”

He pushed himself out of his recliner and went over to the desk in the corner. He searched through several of the drawers before he found what he was looking for and came back.

It turned out to be a map of Eastern California. He unfolded it and spread it out on the coffee table.

“You’ll take your dirt bikes. We’ll top off the gas from the tank in the car. Then you’ll head out this way.” He drew a path east across the map, toward Nevada.

“There’s no road there,” Nick said.

“I think that’s the point,” Paul told him.

“They’ll be expecting people to head west or south,” Sarge said. “That’s where the cities are. And you can’t go north because China Lake’s right up there. The Navy will have that whole area blocked off. They’ll never think anyone would go east.” He tapped the map. “When you get past this point, you’ll be out of the zone. Get on the first road you see, and keep going into Nevada. When you get there, keep a low profile, and don’t let anyone know where you’re from.”

“I’ll put some food together,” their mom said, already heading toward the kitchen. “You can carry it in one of your backpacks.”

“You’ll need some money,” Sarge said. “I got about five hundred dollars stashed away. I’ll give that to you. But I don’t know how long you’re going to be out there on your own, so make it last.”

“We will,” Paul said.

Nick stared at his brother. “We’re really going to do this? We’re going to leave them?”

“Yes. You are,” Sarge said before Paul could reply. “Now go get changed. You’re going to need some warm clothes. The nights still get cold.” As they headed toward the back, he added, “And bring your sleeping bags.”

• • •

Sarge decided they should wait until just after sunset to leave. When the time finally came, the boys rolled their dirt bikes out of the garage. Paul’s was an old Honda, while Nick’s was an even older Yamaha, both 125s. Each boy was wearing two T-shirts, a sweater, a jacket, a pair of jeans, and long johns.