Sealed In (9 page)

The journal started …
‘December 17
th
, Midnight. There are two patient zeros, both present at the time of release. Nine hours post exposure. Steady fever of 103. Vomiting has lessened, but now consists of bile laced with blood. Patients complain of severe skin discomfort. No visual lesions other than self inflicted. Both patient one and two are alert and conscious of what is occurring. I am positive there are no contact victims connected to these two patients. However, I have accounted for twelve individuals who were in the vicinity in the post release of EPV-571. I am confident that patient three, Vivian, will experience the same within twelve hours. I will visit her in a few to check.’

Edward wanted to highlight a few items, but the notebook was sealed
, and he’d have to take it into the lab to do so, so he jotted down his thoughts and dropped his pencil.

“Anything?” Harold asked when he walked on.

“Other than this goes to prove you never know who your neighbors are?” Edward replied. “We have a title on the germ. EPV-571. We’ll start there. Have CDC and WHO run it. If it’s in the database, then it may have a cure or antidote. Obviously, this is an experimental germ that someone in this town was working on or had in their possession.”

“Who the hell would do that?” Harold asked.

“Scientist. Doctor. Lab worker. Stole it. Hid it here. This is cowboy land. They could have put on their best hat and pretended, for all we know. But Vivian’s name is mentioned. She was at ground zero after the release.”

“That’s something to go by.” Harold pulled up a chair. “Check this out. Martha and I were hitting up the social media sites.”

“And?”

“Apparently this wasn’t all that hush-hush. We did a public post search, hashtags, were able to find about a dozen posts about the quarantine. Sent the links to headquarters for them to dig deeper; we can only see so much because we don’t have a ‘friend’ connection.” He pushed papers forward. “I printed them up.”

Edward read a few of them.

‘Sealed in Hartworth. Scary shit. I’m not coming out.’

The other posts he read reiterated that sentiment.

Harold said, “
Right now, Martha is working with the basic white pages to get an address on some of these names. Maybe we can check the houses.”

“Good call. How the hell do people post on social media and this thing not get out?”

Harold shrugged. “My best guess would be that the people in the three towns that posted were just a handful of people. They were probably told to keep quiet. But they posted anyhow, and you’re talking a combined population of less than three thousand people. A dozen or so important posts buried beneath and lost under stupid cartoons and everyday garbage. These people cried out. No one heard them. When they did … it was already too late. Last posts by these people were days ago.”

Edward looked down
at his watch. “Okay, we have about four more hours until this whole area is overrun with CDC, WHO, military, you name it. Then after that, maybe another two hours before this thing goes public, no matter how hard we try to keep a lid on it. Hopefully, headquarters will nail what it is by the slides I sent and this code … EPV-571. Until then, we need to come up with viable answers as to what happened here. Those answers all start here.” He pulled forth the notebook.

Val barely slept, but he supposed that was nothing compared to what Roman and Heather were experiencing. Around three in the morning he delivered a strong sedative to both of them. He stashed away what he had at the clinic. He’d save it for them so they could sleep through most of what they endured.

He prayed. Val hadn’t done that since his wife passed away, yet he pulled out his rosary beads and prayed for them. He knew there was no saving the young people, he knew he was going to lose his son, but he prayed for a quick end and for minimum agony.

It was just about time to begin. He heard Larry out earlier, preparing the streets. Val recorded a new voicemail, because if all went the way he envisioned, he’d have a clinic full by late in the day.

The flyer would be passed out to every single home. They were already posted on the telephone poles.

They were playing the role of reverse psychology on people, telling them through the flyer that there has been unconfirmed rumors of a horrible outbreak outside of Hartworth, and to keep everyone safe from infection, they were shutting down the town for three days. Asking everyone for their cooperation.

Of course, they would tell the ill a completely different story. Val knew the ill wouldn’t be able to do much after a day. Also, Val and Larry figured, by the time everyone started to get sick, they’d be far too sick to leave or even worry about it.

Scare them into staying put, not wanting to leave, and keeping people out.

Val imagined several of the town’s men hooting out an excited, ‘Hell yeah, we’ll take post and guard our town,’ unaware of the truth.

Would it work?

It only remained to be seen.

Just before five, the designated kickoff time, Val checked on Roman and Heather once more. He grabbed a clipboard and left.

He and Larry were starting the daunting task of going door to door.

<><><><>

There were pretty much only two ways into Hartworth. Every other road, including the dirt roads from the ranches and the highway exits, emptied on to that four-lane, state-maintained road that went straight through town..

Larry had doubled up on things. He placed two roadblocks a half mile outside of Hartworth on the east and west side, then a second truck only fifty feet inside the city limits.

Shutting down Hartworth was easy. Keeping people calm wouldn’t be a problem, as long as they were scared and followed the rules.

Hartworth residents were isolated as it was.

The problem was with the ranchers. Larry paid a visit to those six homes before he started the roadblocks. He informed them to stay put, not let anyone on their property, and if they could, just avoid town for a few days.

They seemed, to him, to be more than willing to listen. Not much interested in the
internet, they took his word of the brain virus as gospel.

After informing his men on post on what to do, Larry resumed his door to door task.

He didn’t expect much traffic coming into town, but the most would come from the east, and Larry himself would take that post once he was finished with the houses. He’d take the busy time, as he called it, when traders came though along with deliveries.

Larry would divert them and hopefully do so without word spreading.

<><><><>

Vivian couldn’t breathe though her nose. It was the worst cold she ever recalled having. It wasn’t even slurpy sluggish when she breathed, it was hitting a brick mucus wall.

Nothing.

She ached, and she knew she had a fever. She hated the fact that she promised Roman she’d fill in for him and now she was going to have to call in sick.

Vivian probably would have stayed in bed had it not been for that knot in her stomach.

She tried to vomit, but it was futile; she only gagged. The skin on her right hand was burning as if it were in the beginning stages of a rash.

She hated to do it, but she had to call off of work. She could barely make it to the stairs, let alone the office. She paused by the door of each of her children’s rooms. Her daughter slept soundly, but her son was restless, tossing and coughing.

Poor thing, she thought, they must have both caught it from the same source.

As she headed to the stairs to retrieve her phone on the first floor, her husband, Darrell, called to her.

“Viv? You okay?”

“Yeah,” she coughed. “Really sick. Go back to sleep. I’m gonna lay on the couch.”

“You need anything?”

“No. Just sleep. Thanks.” She walked slowly down the stairs. Her plan was to get a drink and call the doc, but she only made it to the bottom of the stairs when she heard a knock on the door.

It wasn’t even six in the morning; who would be knocking, she thought.

She peeked through the drape.

Doc?

Vivian opened the door. “Doc?”

His eyes cased her up and down. “Oh, Vivian. Are you ill?”

“Yes, I was just getting ready to call you. What’s going on?”

“Vivian, the town is under quarantine,” Val spoke softly. “We believe a man from Omaha brought something into the town, so we are taking precautions.”

Vivian’s hand shot to her mouth. “Do I have it?”

“You may. I’ll need to examine you,” Val said. “We are asking all those who may be infected to come to the fire hall and stay clear of those who are not ill. Can you do that?”

Vivian nodded. “I’ll get my things and be right there. Should I be worried?”

“No. No, not at all.” Val waved out his hand. “It’ll be over in a few days.”

Vivian thanked Val. He turned and left and she closed the door. She felt horrible, and a quarantine in town was frightening. But Vivian felt better knowing she only had to suffer just a couple of days.

<><><><>

Heather had never been so sick in all of her life.

She vomited the last bit that was left in her stomach, and it felt as if there were a hole in her abdomen, a vague nothingness that knotted and pulled.

Her skin hurt, worse than any sunburn she ever had in her life.

Choking on something, Heather woke from a sound sleep. She didn’t know what it was that choked her, but it was gone. She was groggy but managed to roll out of bed. Standing was a chore. She had to hold on to everything to stand and balance. Roman was still sleeping in the single bed next to her.

Heather wasn’t a doctor, but she was smart enough to know something was wrong. Dreadfully wrong.

Why did Val not take them to a hospital? She looked down at her forearms. They were black. Not purple or splotched, black as if they were rotting. Roman was worse. His face was black, his neck swollen.

She was certain, without a doubt, that she’d vomited blood, but it was dark. Surely, Val had to see the severity in that.

About four steps from the bed, Heather started to cry. She could barely walk. Her thoughts were on her daughter. Her baby girl. How she wanted to see her and hold her again. And Heather thought of her mother. Even though she was a woman, she felt like a little girl, so desperately needing to hear her mother’s voice, to feel her mother’s arms.

Where was she? Did she not know she was ill?

Maybe not.

Maybe Val never told her mom.

A noise outside caught Heather’s attention, and she weakly made her way to the window. She parted the drapes to peek out. It was barely light out yet the street was busy.

The second story window allotted her the vantage point of seeing the fire hall two streets over. People walked slowly in there. A fire truck flashed its light as if it was a beacon.

Heather didn’t have much energy left in her. What she did have she was going to use to the fullest extent.

She had to find the phone and call her mother.

“How in the world does a town just shut down?” Edward questioned as he sat with Harold, going through the journal.

“This is something we can’t put together before everyone arrives, you know that,” Harold said. “We can try. But it’s a lot.”

Edward shook his head. “They lied to the people of this town. Half the people thought some brain virus making everyone crazy was infecting the world, and the other half knew there was an illness in Hartworth. How did they pull it off?”

“The ill were too sick to care, and the ones hiding didn’t believe anyone,” Harold guessed. “Martha finished the fire hall body count.”

“And?”

“Two hundred and twenty.”

Edward rubbed his eyes. “Which means that people are in their homes.”

“There are a lot of gunshot victims, self-inflicted as well.”

“This man … or woman,” Edward pointed to the journal, “is the one we need to find. Who wrote this?”

“He’s more than likely dead.”

“I know. Any word from Martha on the last phone call? It was placed on the 20
th
.”

“She’s looking for him now. We don’t know this town. She and Dickson should have some answers soon,” Harold said.

“Maybe our caller was the journal keeper,” Edward guessed. “He or she thought they were saving the world. They believed the quarantine would work. Listen to this …” Edward read. “
December 17
th
, four p.m. We have secured perimeters. No one has entered or left town. I believe this is contained. At this point we have checked in over one hundred people at the fire hall. I believe these are initial ground zero release victims. As long as no one at ground zero left town we are good. Like the measles or conjunctivitis, EPV-571 is not contagious until the onset of symptoms. Problem is, when do the symptoms actually start? What is the initial symptom? It could be a sneeze, a cough, or a chill. That is the scary part.
’ Edward stopped reading.