Influenza: Viral Virulence (29 page)

Krank remained standing on top of the ruined car. The fifty-caliber sniper rifle that he had just fired was still in his hands. The body of his inept sharpshooter was lying at his feet. After three missed shots, he had let his drug-induced anger gain control, and he had broken the sharpshooter’s neck, snapped it like a twig. Taking the gun from the lifeless body, Krank himself had shot the gasoline bomb on his first attempt. Holding the sniper rifle triumphantly above his head, he spat on the motionless body.

“No one can mess with King Krank,” he smirked. For a moment he had even forgotten about the searing pain on his face. But he didn’t forget about the body of his woman lying dead back at the gas station. She had been one of the casualties of the exploding tanker truck. He wished the kid who did it was alive. He wanted to rip the skin from his body piece by piece and eat it in front of his dying eyes. As he watched the diminishing fire from the gasoline bomb in the middle of the bridge, he lowered the sniper rifle. Then, he rubbed his eyes as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

With growing rage, he watched that blasted green truck return and pick up the body of the kid that should have been blown to pieces. He reached up and touched his blood-soaked cheek. The gash on his face was a result of shrapnel from the exploding gasoline truck. His eyebrows were singed from the fiery blast. But high on meth, Krank hadn’t felt anything except for the seething anger burning inside him.

Shaking his fist at the truck, he screamed curses at the top of his lungs and vowed that he would utterly destroy the kid and whoever was driving the truck. Maybe he would cut them up just enough so they were barely alive and then burn them inside that forsaken vehicle. He kicked the sharpshooter’s body, and it rolled off the top of the car and thudded on the pavement below. He hoped the stupid kid wasn’t dead yet, because he wanted to make him suffer for a long time before he finally killed him.

Chapter 32

Michael was back
under the water again. This time, he felt he was running out of air. The current was starting to win, despite his constant struggle against the downward pull. He was exhausted and about to give up. His hands were still reaching for the surface, but he was beginning to believe that they would never break free of the suffocating water.

Sandy was watching him from along the bank and barking furiously for someone to help him. But he couldn’t hear Sandy’s barks, nor could anyone hear his frantic screams for help. He was so tired. He wanted to give up. If he would just close his eyes and surrender, he could let the dark undertow take him down into the darkness.
Just close your eyes
, he thought.

Suddenly, a hand was thrust into the water, and fingers closed around his hand. Opening his eyes, he looked upward, and Lorie was there reaching for him. She was bending over the water from the bank, pulling him up. With a new vigor rising inside him, Michael struggled hard against the hungry current. Lorie’s hand continued to pull. Finally, his fingers broke the surface of the water. Next, his whole hand and then his arm were above the water. Now, he was out of the water and lying on the bank face up. Lorie was bending over him, smiling. He looked at his rescuer and gratefully returned her smile.

As he came to, his first sensation was his warm, wet fingers on his right hand. He forced his eyes to open a little, and the sudden influx of light was blinding. His head throbbed like crazy. He could barely make out vague shapes but not any details, as his eyesight was extremely blurred. As his eyes gradually adjusted, he saw Sandy’s happy face. She had propped herself up with her front paws on the cot, and she was licking his exposed right hand like it was a tasty treat.

“Welcome back,” Lorie said, walking into his field of vision. “You really had me worried there.”

“I was worried too,” Michael managed to say. His voice sounded strange and different.

“Shhh, don’t talk. Save your strength,” Lorie instructed him. “And never, ever scare me like that again!”

“What happened?” he asked.

“I told you to save your strength,” she admonished.

He could tell from her voice that she was more relieved than angry.

Lorie ran her fingers through his hair. “I had just reached the other side of the bridge when the explosion happened. I instinctively knew that you were in trouble. Despite the protests from our new friends, the Kentucky National Guard, I drove the truck back as fast as it would go. I almost passed you. I would never have seen you by that wrecked car unless Sandy here hadn’t started barking her head off.”

She rubbed Sandy’s ears, and Sandy looked proud of herself.

“Somehow, I got you into the truck…”

“You picked me up by yourself and put me in the truck?” Michael asked, amazed.

“Not just me. You half stumbled with me. But you were totally out of it. Once I got you in the truck, I raced back to the Kentucky side of the bridge, and here we are. Oh, and you’re not supposed to get up, according to the squad’s medic. He says you probably got yourself a nice concussion. But otherwise, except for a few minor burns, cuts, and scrapes, he says you should be okay. I told him that you were never okay to begin with, but he didn’t listen to me.” She smiled down at him.

“How long have I been out?”

“Almost forty-eight hours…”

“Forty-eight hours!” Michael exclaimed as he tried to sit up. A sudden, crushing pain shot through his head. He cried out in agony and put his hands on his head, as if pressing on it would help relieve the stabbing sensation. He dropped back down onto the pillow.

“Are you okay?” Lorie asked, suddenly very concerned. “I told you not to move!”

“No, you told me not to talk.”

Lorie suddenly bent over and kissed him on the lips.

Michael, for the first time, had no words. Her lips against his felt so soft and warm. The sensation drowned out any pain that he might have been feeling.

Sandy whined from the side of the cot.

“Am I interrupting something?” a new voice asked.

To Michael’s regret, their lips parted suddenly. He looked in the direction of the man’s voice and saw that someone dressed in full military gear had entered the room. Not knowing much about the ranking system in the armed forces, Michael sensed that this man was in some position of authority. He had straight, dark hair and stood about six feet tall. His nose came to a sharp point over his clean-shaven face. Carrying only a sidearm, the man crossed the room to Michael’s cot and peered down at him.

“I see that you woke Prince Charming with your kiss,” he said to Lorie.

Blushing, she smiled and stepped back. “He just woke up,” she explained. “Michael, this is Corporal Brett Framer. He leads the Kentucky Guard.”

“Well,” Corporal Brett corrected her humbly, “I lead this particular unit of the Kentucky Guard. Not the whole Guard. It’s nice to meet you, Michael. You really made an impression on everybody when you came barreling across the bridge.”

“I hope it was a good impression,” Michael replied hoarsely.

“What you did was really dumb,” Corporal Brett exclaimed, “but you managed to pull it off. You’re the first to make it across the bridge alive since Krank’s group shut it down. I still can’t believe that you two actually made it. And from the radio chatter we’ve been monitoring since then, it seems that Krank is extremely upset with you. He wants your head on a plate.” Then, he smiled. “Nice job!”

“We watched that jerk burn two people alive the other night,” Lorie said. “A bullet in the head would be too good for him.”

“I know,” Brett sighed. “Unfortunately, they weren’t the first victims that he’s tortured. He likes to burn people for us to watch. I think he fancies himself a modern day Nero. Remember the Roman emperor? Nero burned bodies in his garden at night so that he could have light to eat his dinner. This leader, Krank, is worse. He’s a lunatic…a serial killer…a mass murderer. But we don’t have the personnel to take out his heavily armed gang of psychopaths. We can barely hold our own.”

“How did your unit survive the…?” Michael began.

“Epidemic?” Corporal Brett finished. He sighed and said, “Really, by pure luck. Probably the same kind of luck that got you over the bridge.” He pulled up a chair and sat down by the side of the bed. “My squad was out in the deep woods engaged in a two-week tactical and survival training against Corporal Manning’s squad. It’s really just like a group of grown-up kids playing war games. Like a serious game of capture the flag for adults, except we carry guns and can’t go home for dinner. Radio silence was mandatory during the whole training, so we didn’t even know the flu virus was starting to destroy the country. I guess our superiors were so busy dealing with the situation that they completely forgot about us.

“When we hiked the long miles back to base,” he continued, “we were forced into quarantine. They feared that we would bring the flu virus into the compound. Unfortunately for them, the opposite happened. The military base was wiped out, and only Corporal Manning’s and my squads were spared, because we were kept in isolation. We had just enough food and water left in quarantine so we could stay until most of the danger had passed.”

“What happened then?” Lorie asked. “How did you end up here, guarding the Ohio River?”

“We moved what family we had left to Lexington, just south of here. We recognized the growing threat posed by Krank’s gang of meth addicts and wanted to protect this side of the Ohio River. We figure that once Krank is done looting and wreaking havoc in Cincinnati, he’ll want to expand his reign of terror. My squad and Corporal Manning’s squad take turns guarding the bridges. We switch out every week so we have a chance to be with our families. If you stay a few days, you’ll get the chance to see Corporal Manning’s squad come and replace us.”

“But are we safe from Krank here?” Lorie asked.

“As safe as you could be. I don’t think Krank and his jacked-up gang of psychopaths would dare attack us here. Even though they might have the numbers, we have a good, defensible position with highly trained soldiers and equipment. I wouldn’t trade one of our soldiers for twenty of Krank’s men.”

“Thanks for taking us in,” Michael said.

Brett smiled at him. “No problem. I would have paid to see the look on Krank’s face when you broke through his blockade.” Brett laughed. “Oh, I almost forgot. You know that little explosion that you set off? Well, not only did you take out Krank’s main fuel supply, but you also managed to blow up his meth lab in the resultant explosions. So, I think you’ve earned your keep here. I’m the one that has you to thank.”

Corporal Brett stood up from the chair. “Anyway, I have to run. Duty calls.”

“It was nice meeting you,” Michael said.

After he left the room, Lorie turned to Michael and said, “Now, you need to rest.”

“What about that kiss?” Michael asked, grinning at her like a little boy.

“You need to be quiet and rest if you ever hope to get another one,” Lorie said as she turned to leave. As she walked out, she looked back at him, smiled, and then turned out the light and left.

Michael did rest for the next few days. He spent only one more day in the infirmary before the squad’s medic let him get up and leave the room. Together, Michael and Lorie walked around the camp and watched the men work on the defensive fortifications. All the soldiers greeted them like they were heroes. They all congratulated them on breaking through Krank’s blockade. They introduced themselves to Michael, but after so many “Private This” and “Private That,” Michael couldn’t keep their names straight. When engaged in conversation, he had to rely on glancing at the name tags on their uniforms.

They all took a liking to Lorie. It wasn’t often that a petite, beautiful blonde showed up in their camp. But they treated her with dignified respect. The soldiers also loved Sandy. She would run up to them, smiling and wagging her tail, and gratefully accept any petting or treats they offered her.

The camp had a supply of jeeps and other military vehicles which they used to patrol the bridges. The vehicles also transported the soldiers back and forth to Lexington to see their families when their weeklong shift was over. Corporal Manning had acquired an ample supply of fuel for both the vehicles and the generators. As a result, not only did they have running cars, but they also had lights, hot meals, and showers.

Michael and Lorie were given a small tent to stay in, and Michael brought in two cots for them to sleep on. They ate meals with the rest of the squad, and Lorie got to know the cook. She and the cook would often talk about food, especially about the art of making dehydrated food edible and even tasty.

For their part, the squad made Michael and Lorie feel at home and comfortable. They would often ask Michael to recount the story of his and Lorie’s bridge crossing. They never seemed to tire of hearing how he “accidentally” blew up the gasoline trucks and meth lab. They laughed hysterically when Michael told them that he didn’t even know about any drug lab being there. On the other side of the bridge, everything remained quiet, or so they thought.