The Last Outbreak (Book 1): Awakening (3 page)

The ground was still wet with what remained from the previous evening’s snow when she and the others made their way through the gates and down to the loading area. It was cooler than she anticipated and although they were each allowed to wear a coat, the one she brought was dreadfully insufficient.

Tilting her head skyward and pushing her breath out into the morning air, she smiled as it momentarily crystallized and then drifted off into nothing. Being out of the building, while only for a few hours, changed her perspective. Having given up more times than she cared to count, today she wanted to be happy, to be like everyone else. Even if she wasn’t. Something was happening and although no one was talking, she knew it was bad.

As the forty-five-foot bus rolled to a stop, Cora Adams looked up and down the line. The count hadn’t changed since she’d checked it six times before. Having only heard rumors about where they were headed, the change in location was less exciting than it was unnerving. After what she’d seen before walking out into the cold morning air, she was almost looking forward to the trip.

Twenty-five passengers on a bus that was built to hold over four times that amount seemed like a waste. She wasn’t about to question the directive handed down, although she had no idea why she was here or exactly what had taken place behind those gates she’d just walked through.

And as the line began to move forward, the images from the last few hours again played in her mind.

.      .      .

There were no specific instructions as they called out for her this morning. None that gave Cora any clue as to what was happening anyway. No one spoke, at least not to her or any of her friends. They only came, told them they were being transferred, and then gave them less than five minutes to get ready. Enough time to get ready, not enough to actually be ready.

Ms. Former Bodybuilder appeared out of the darkened hall. She asked that Cora and the others grab what they wanted. They were told to move as quickly as possible and be ready to board the bus in twenty minutes. No showers, no brushing your teeth, and if the bathroom was an absolute requirement, they’d better go now.

They were told to head toward the eastern end of the facility and not to stop for any reason. If the person in front of you or the person behind you moved out of line, you were simply supposed to keep moving forward. “We wait for no one.” According to Former Bodybuilder, their mass exit wouldn’t be pretty, but it sure as hell was going to get the job done.

Tossing the only three items she still cared about into the plastic bag, Cora moved out into the hall and called for Trish. “Hey, let’s go, I’m not sure what this is, but I don’t think we want to stay around to find out.”

The only friend she’d made since arriving here less than three months before sat frozen on her bed. She didn’t respond. She didn’t look up. She didn’t move. She only clutched her left arm to her chest and cried. Trish never cried.

.      .      .

They met in the kitchen on Cora’s second day. They worked side by side for three hours before Trish tossed a plate to the tiled floor and smiled. “Oops.”

Cora raised an eyebrow and grinned.

“There are a set number of mistakes allowed from this kitchen before we have to answer for them. I haven’t made one since last Monday and you seem to have your area under control, so I think we were due.”

Back to the sink in front of her, Cora pulled out a short stack of three identical serving plates, raised them overhead, and slammed them to the ground. She turned back to her new friend and said, “I guess we may have something to answer for.”

“I’m Trish, and I have a feeling we’re gonna get along just fine.”

Cora leaned back, brushed a long strand of hair away from her face, and checked both doors. “I’m just wondering what they’ll do if we go beyond that number? What if we break ten plates, what about twenty? Who’s gonna come ‘talk’ to us if we break every damn thing in this kitchen?”

“Well,” her new friend said, “looks like someone’s trying to get rid of their rookie card.”

“Rookie card?”

“Yeah, happens to everyone when they first get here. Trying to prove you’re something more than you were out there. Attempting to keep the others away. Hoping they’ll see you as the little girl who isn’t really a threat, or on the opposite end, someone who shouldn’t be screwed with. Either way, they leave you alone.”

Shaking her head, Cora said, “Just when I was starting to like you.”

“Only trying to help.” The woman roughly ten years her senior continued to smile. “I figure you’re what, about five-foot-two and no more than a hundred pounds soaking wet? You’ve gotta admit the tough girl role is a bit of a stretch. Maybe you should just go with the innocent little girl thing. It’s a bit more believable.”

Cora began to respond, but was cut short as Trish added her final thought. “I like you, but you need to know where the line is.”

“I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”

Back to the work staring her in the face, Trish nodded. “Yep, that’s for sure, but just in case, I want you to know you can come to me if you need help.”

.      .      .

The last few hours went by in the blink of an eye. The voices. The groans. The growls. The pleading. The crying. The distant sound of gunfire and finally the silence. Since arriving, she hadn’t strung together more than three hours of sleep at any one time, although last night’s foray into insomnia was much different.

Forced out into the hall and hurried along the dimly lit corridor, Cora was only able to catch quick glimpses of the sixteen silhouetted bodies lining the east wall. Laid head to toe and then again head to toe, they covered the length of the entire block wall. She turned away, moved closer to the women three feet ahead and didn’t ask, mainly because she couldn’t think of a single appropriate question.

Continuing through the set of double doors near the Control Center, Cora was overwhelmed by the distinct aroma of antiseptic spray and gauze bandages. Just on the other side of the inch-thick shatterproof glass stood four large men dressed in brightly colored hazmat suits and blacked-out masks. They paused as Cora and her group entered, but only for a brief moment.

The yellow suited men held back a separate line of women. One by one they placed a digital thermometer to the foreheads of the woman. They paused, holding the readout to their masks, and either let them through to meet up with the others or pointed them back to the room they had just left. Each was given a temporary branding by way of permanent marker along their right hand.

As Cora’s line slowed at the next set of double doors, she turned to see her only friend in the world. Six feet away, and on the wrong side of the inch-thick glass, Trish moved to the front of the line and waited as they scanned her forehead.

Cora’s line was again on the move as the masked man in yellow held up the digital readout for his next in command. Both men looked around the massively overcrowded room as another row of women pushed inside. They nodded to one another and as the first man lifted Trish’s hand and quickly scribbled out his conclusion, he pointed toward the door nearest Cora’s group.

As Trish moved out of line, held her hand up, and started for the door, Cora began to sweat.

One-hundred-one degrees. “
Trish, what the hell did they do to you
?”

It definitely wasn’t a bar fight. Hell, it really wasn’t much of a fight at all. It wasn’t a brawl or a skirmish. Neither would anyone confuse what happened before the sun came up as anything resembling an altercation. Griffin Ford laid stretched out across the third row seat and was having trouble even recalling exactly what happened.

Aggressive avoidance, yeah that’s it. If he absolutely had to put a label to it, that would be the one. He couldn’t remember exactly how the whole thing got started as he was the last to leave the diner, however that man was headed for trouble long before he ran across Griffin and his new co-workers. This was undeniable.

The events that took place shortly after five in the morning still had the SUV buzzing with half-truths and foggy details. Each of the four men had a slightly different interpretation of what took place and also what the bewildered man’s motivations actually were. Through the varied stories, one thing remained constant—had the police sirens come even five minutes later, they would have killed that man.

“Okay,” Griffin said, to no one in particular, “we all get that he was crazy, or homeless, or whatever. But you’ve got to give it to the poor guy, his determination was something they write books about.”

The man in the passenger seat turned to face the others. “I hit him square in the chest with that two-by-four and he didn’t even look like he felt it. That’s when I thought we may actually have to kill this dude.”

The driver, with thick rows of perspiration now forming along his brow and above his upper lip, turned to the passenger, but didn’t speak. He blinked a few times, but didn’t join in the conversation. Before turning back to the winding highway, he smiled and tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

The last man, seated along the middle row, noticed the odd exchange and turned back to Griffin. “What’s with him?”

Whispering, Griffin said, “Not sure. But he was the first to tangle with that guy, and he did take him to the pavement, I think more than once. Maybe he thinks we should have went easier on that dude. I don’t know.”

The driver, who was only known to Griffin as Joe M. took his right hand off the wheel, held it skyward, and extended his middle finger. He said nothing to the men, but began to cough. Joe’s body convulsed as waves of uncontrollable tremors forced themselves up through into his throat and out through his mouth.

Given that the sun had yet to make its way into their world, the four lane mountain road they traveled remained mostly empty. It had been more than ten minutes since Joe had cut off his high-beams as a courtesy to the passing delivery truck. As he continued to succumb to his involuntary coughing fit, the others took notice when Joe crossed the double yellow line for a second time.

“Hey,” Griffin said, “get it together my man, or at least let me drive.”

Through his next coughing fit, Joe again saluted the men with his right hand.

Swerving back into the right lane, Joe lowered the driver’s window and spat into the pulsing wind.

“Joe, pull it over.” Griffin’s sat up and leaned into the second row. “We’re way ahead of schedule. There’s no need to take any chances.”

Joe shook his head as the convulsions began to subside. He again held his right hand in the air, this time extending his index finger and calling for the others to give him a minute to compose himself.

Gaining speed as the SUV charged down the next descent, Joe cleared his throat and said, “I’m good, y’all, it’s just that breakfast comin’ back around on me. That’s all.”

The man in the passenger seat shook his head and laughed. “You look like ten miles of bad highway, Joe. Your face is the same color grey as your jacket and what’s with all the sweat? I’ve known people in a sauna to perspire less. I think Griffin might be right. Why don’t you let one of us drive?”

“Really,” Joe said. “Why don’t you mind your own business; you know kind of like when you decided to let the rest of us handle that vagrant back in the parking lot.”

“I didn’t leave. I mean, I just really didn’t know what to—”

Griffin interrupted, “Admit it, that guy scared you, didn’t he? I’m sure if I’d gotten any closer, I would have run too.” Nodding his head, he started to smile. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, just admit it—you left us there to fend for ourselves.”

“Yeah right, you have no idea what you’re talking about,” said the man in the passenger’s seat. “You were just coming through the doors when Joe tossed that guy into the dumpster. You missed the entire thing.”

Griffin again nodded. “True, but someone had to pick up the tab. You degenerates left the booth before I even had a chance to look up.”

“You’re the new guy Griffin, and the new guy always—”

“I’ve known the three of you for less than forty-eight hours, but I can already tell you’re all gonna be a pain in my ass… one question though. How did Joe manage to toss that guy into the dumpster on his own? He had to weigh at least two-hundred pounds.”

“He had help,” said the man in the second row. “That dude came stumbling in through the front doors and right away grabbed at Joe’s face. When Joe turned and pushed him backward, out onto the walkway—that guy slammed his head on the concrete. He slammed it real good. We were all surprised when he got back up on his own.”

“Then the manager came out?” Griffin said.

“Yeah, I guess he’d been bugging some other people in the parking lot. He just kept coming, really drunk. He even tried to bite Joe’s face.”

“What?” the man in the passenger seat asked.

“Yeah, that’s when we came over. He just kept coming back after Joe. We’d push him away and he’d just get up and come back. He never said a word to us.”

“So, you tossed the poor drunk bastard into the dumpster?”

“Yep,” Joe said. “I grabbed his arms and he grabbed his legs. We shoved him inside and then watched him try to climb out. It was actually kind of sad. When he wakes up tomorrow—” Joe was cut short as he again started to cough.

Shoving his right foot down on the brake and leaning out, Joe vomited out a mouthful of blood, the other men wincing as it blew back and covered the driver’s side of the SUV. Finally, careening into the opposite lane, the SUV slowly came to a stop.

“Joe, get in the back,” Griffin said. “You’re done.”

Joe nodded. “Yeah, whatever.”

“I’ll drive,” Griffin said as he began moving toward the second row. “You get in the passenger seat and give me directions to the building. I don’t really care how you feel, we’re getting this done today. You can take a sick day tomorrow, once we’ve all gone our separate ways.”

Joe pushed open the driver’s door before turning back to Griffin and the others. “Just don’t forget who put this thing together. It was my information that led us here. My contacts. My idea. No one else. You’re all here because of me.”

“Joe, you need to—”

“Don’t tell me what I need, I’m giving you more money than you’ll see in ten lifetimes. And for what, a few hours of doing what you’d do for free?” Now looking directly at Griffin, he continued, “You got it?”

“Hey, I’m extremely grateful for you letting me in on this job. I just want to get us there in one piece. So let’s agree that it’s in everyone’s best interest for someone else to get behind the wheel.”

“Eighteen million dollars,” Joe said. “Yes, I know how careful we need to be. I also know that I’m taking the biggest risk. When my brother-in-law finds out that its gone, he’ll be looking for me. Only me.”

“I thought he and your sister split before the actual wedding?”

“Why do you think we’re doing this? My sister is every bit as malicious as the rest of us, she just carries it better. This is her little payback for all his cheating. She’s the real reason this is happening. That poor bastard won’t even know what or who hit him until I’ve dug my toes into the sand—” With the others looking on, Joe was hit mid-sentence with another coughing fit and before they could react, he fell face-first onto the asphalt.

Griffin and the man from the passenger seat quickly exited the SUV, made their way over to Joe, and dragged his limp body up onto the rear seat. Two quick slaps from Griffin and a small trail of blood ran from the corner of Joe’s mouth. “Come on, wake up.”

Nothing.

“JOE, LET’S GO BUDDY!”

No movement.

The man from the passenger seat stepped away as he stared down at his chest, arms, and hands. Slowly walking out to the middle of the roadway, he stood illuminated by the SUV’s headlights. “Griffin, who exactly does all this blood belong to?”