The Liger Plague (Book 1) (10 page)

“It’s not safe to travel alone to your house, Mrs.…”

“Waters. Versa Waters. And what the hell do you mean it’s not safe? I’ve got an old Remington stored away that’ll keep those drunken bastards away.” She glared at him through the slit. “So you saying you won’t give me a lift?”

“I was heading out anyway. Sure, I can give you a lift home if you’d like, Mrs. Waters.”

“It’s Versa, and you don’t look too good, mister. Get seasick or something?”

“A bad rash is all.” Tag turned to let her inside for a second. “Versa, I’d like you to meet my wife, Monica, and my daughter Taylor.”

“Please to meet you, folks,” Versa said after Monica and Taylor greeted her.

“Come on, Versa, I’ll take you home,” he said, keeping his distance as they walked out to the car. “The name’s Colonel Tag Winters, by the way.”

“You’re just driving me home, remember. Don’t get any fresh ideas, Colonel.”

Tag laughed despite his illness. “I’m a married man with three kids, Versa. You can breathe easy.”

“That don’t mean a thing these days. Look at that dog Clinton. Married to Hillary all those years and screwing everything that moved. Same with J.F.K. Of course, I was only three when that two-timer got his brains blown out and—”

“Get in the car, Versa.”

Tag limped to the front door with his bag slung over his shoulder. It was a perfect summer day, and he had a magnificent view of the bay. If only he felt better. The water shone bright blue with small whitecaps breaking toward the shore. A Coast Guard vessel cruised just off the rocky section of the beach below. About a dozen people stood onshore, waving to the cutter and trying to entice the captain to pick them up and carry them off the island. Of course, there was no way in hell the Coast Guard was going to do that. The odds seemed greater they would shoot them dead rather than let them ever reach the mainland. The blood pumping through his head pounded, and the intense sunlight hurt his eyes, seeming to stab his brain like an ice pick. Even the blisters over his body stung as if they’d been pricked by thorns.

He clicked the key lock, opened the door, and collapsed in the driver’s seat. Versa settled in next to him. Sweat dripped from his hair, face and down his armpits as he put on his mask. A wave of exhaustion swept over him, and he leaned back on the headrest to compose himself. He tossed the rifle and bag onto the back seat and started the engine, waiting for the air-conditioning to cool his perspiring face. Versa asked about the mask, and he explained it away as having bad allergies.

He navigated the car off Sandy Lane and turned onto Atlantic View Road. A handful of people sat on the beach or were walking along the glimmering flats of low tide. He wondered where all the other folks had gone. Versa directed him to her house. He took a left onto Brook Road and climbed the hill leading to downtown. The nearer he got to Main Street, the more people he saw loitering along the sidewalk and street. Versa pointed to her house, and when he approached it, he saw a man carrying a club and walking up the front stairs. Once at the top he tried to pull open the door. Tag put the car in idle and observed the man’s actions. Unable to open it, he rang the bell in the hopes that someone might answer. When no one did, he swung the stick into the window pane, shattering the glass. The man cleared the shattered glass from the doorframe and started to reach inside to open the lock. Two of the guy’s friends waited for him down below on the sidewalk.

“Those sons-of-bitches are breaking into my house!” Versa shouted.

Tag stepped outside the car and pointed the M4 at the guy. “I suggest you back off from that door and be on your way.”

“Who the hell are you?” the guy said, staring him down.

“Never mind who I am. Just get off that porch, and leave that house alone.”

“Dude, we’re tired and hungry and have nowhere else to go. How the hell are we going to get off this fucking island?”

“Hopefully you’ll be going back to Portland real soon. Now put the club down, and move away from that door.”

Tag saw people everywhere, breaking into cars and checking front doors to see if the homes had been vacated. The situation seemed to be getting worse by the hour. People were scared and desperate, and power to the island had been cut off. All this and the virus had not even begun to affect people’s health yet.

“You still want to go up there, Versa?”

“You bet I do. Once I get my hands on that Remington, I’ll be just fine, Colonel.”

“Okay then. Off you go.”

He stood over the hood and directed Versa to head upstairs. She quickly exited the vehicle and started up toward her house. Almost immediately a group of men started toward her. Tag warned them to back off, but she’d already decided to retreat back into his car.

“Goddamn, Colonel, those scum’ll kill me if I go any farther. I’m going to have to wait for a better time to get in there.” She turned to look at him. “Can I stay at your house for a spell?”

“I suppose,” Tag replied after a pause.

“You won’t regret having someone like me around the house.”

He actually thought he might, and yet he couldn’t just leave this woman to fend for herself.

“Come on, Colonel. Better get moving before these mainland scumbags catch up to us.”

Tag cruised up the street, careful of the mob trudging alongside it. They looked tired, worn out, and dazed. People wandered along the street, moving aside to let his car pass. Once he arrived onto Main Street, he took a left in order to circle back to his home. Many of the storefronts and windows appeared broken, and people moved freely in and out of them, taking whatever supplies were still left on the shelves. Many of the younger people had given up hope that a ferry might come and rescue them, so they sat around on the curbs, drinking warm beer and eating chips or candy out of the bag. Many, to his dismay, were talking on their cell phones or texting, relaying their sorry plight to family and friends back on the mainland. With the power out, these phones would soon run out of juice.

Faces stared at him as he passed. Most visitors to the island didn’t bother to take their cars over on the ferry because of the cost and the fact that it was unnecessary to do so, seeing how a person could easily walk anywhere on the island. The art festival’s main activities took place in the center of town and within easy walking distance from the ferry terminal. Most people came for the day, visited all the art exhibits located around the center of town, and then returned home the same night.

He couldn’t see the police patrol car anywhere. The two cops should have been out maintaining order and having a strong presence in the center of town. The breakdown of the island’s rule of law had been complete, and he knew that even if he tried to take control of the situation, he would have little impact on the angry and confused mob. Dizzy and sick, with these blisters burning his skin, he had little energy to try to compel people to go against their base instincts. He had his own family to worry about. His only hope was to go home and prepare for the worst, and make sure that his house remained safe and secure.

He drove slowly through the crowd, trying to ignore their desperate looks and pleading cries. His natural inclination was to help them, but he had to fight off the urge. Some of them pounded their fists against the car in anger. The mob staggered along the streets, looking for help, reassurance, someone to tell them that everything would be okay.

Right now he couldn’t be that man.

Despite the rush of cold air, his hair dripped with sweat as he navigated the car through Main Street. Gripping the steering wheel, he could barely keep his eyes on the road he was so overcome by fatigue. Once he arrived on Sandy Lane, he took a right and headed toward his house. Thankfully only a few people were walking along the street. He gazed out at the choppy ocean to his left, feeling too sick to appreciate the beauty of this scene. Glancing at Versa, he could see that she didn’t care one way or another about the view or the plight of the people seeking his help, contemptuous as she was against all outsiders invading her turf. He parked in the driveway and sat back in the seat, completely exhausted from the short trip over.

“You going to sit there and admire your big fancy house, or are you going to escort a lady inside?” Versa said, practically spitting out the words.

“Relax, will you? Give me a second to catch my breath.”

“Don’t tell me to relax. This island’s been my home since the day I was born, and I don’t take lightly to being bossed around by an outsider.”

He was about to respond when the car’s Bluetooth started to ring. “Excuse me while I take this,” he said.

Versa got out of his car in a huff. He didn’t want her to hear this conversation. She strolled across the street, disappearing behind a row of tall hedges. Tag pressed the button on the console and answered the phone.

“Hello, Colonel.”

“You!”

“Yeah, it’s me. Your good buddy Lenny. And have I got some news for you.”

Chapter 8

“What do you want?”

“A fine mess you find yourself in, Colonel. A fine mess indeed.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“How about we save that existential question for later? Tell me how you’re feeling instead.”

“How do you think I’m feeling, asshole? You gave me smallpox.”

“Is that the thanks I get for throwing you a bone by providing you with a vaccine? You know as well as I do, Colonel, that with every vaccination comes a modicum of risk. The AMA estimates that 250 out of a million could die from a smallpox vaccine, so count yourself as one of the lucky ones.”

“Boy, am I a lucky guy or what?” He laughed. “Is that what you put inside that glass sculpture?”

“Ingenious contraption wouldn’t you say! Putting it in that glass liger was a stroke of genius and a brilliant Trojan horse,” Lenny said. “I see you picked up a passenger, Colonel. How valiant of you trying to save an old island girl.”

“Are you on this island right now?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Did you know that Cooke’s has more webcams on it than any other island in the country? It’s some kind of scientific experiment to track some stupid bird. All the problems in the world and we waste precious resources on a stupid bird. In any case, I’ve been watching that island go to hell since you arrived yesterday. Fine job disabling all the boats and keeping people from leaving the island. Things are going to get real interesting from here on in.”

“How interesting?”

“You think you feel sick now? Wait until the liger wakes from his long nap. Then you’ll really see an angry beast at play.”

“How long is the incubation period?”

“It’s a very quick turnaround, and that’s about all I’m going to say on the matter. So be prepared for what happens next, Colonel. What you see now is mere child’s play compared to the next phase. And now with the power out, everyone and their sister will be using their cell phones to try to call their loved ones. It might very well be the last call any of them ever makes.”

“Christ! Are you planning to kill everyone on this island?”

Lenny laughed. “Who said anything about killing? Killing is not the end goal, Colonel, which only proves that you’re the one with the sick mind. Just remember, if anyone from the mainland comes on this island to help, I won’t hesitate to release the liger virus into the general population. Only when I give the word can anyone make their way onto Cooke’s. Understand?”

Before Tag could reply, the line went dead. He sat back in his seat and tried to regain his composure. He felt exhausted from driving around the island, and wanted only to return inside the house and rest. There was nothing he could do in his condition but recuperate and hope his health improved. Maybe this virus would wash over him quickly. Or maybe it might take days, possibly weeks to fully regain his health. He struggled to open the car door and push himself off the leather seat. Feeling lightheaded, he rested both elbows on the roof while waiting to regain his balance.

He was about to turn around and head back inside when he noticed a small group of people walking up Sandy Lane and toward the house. Though his vision remained blurred, and even further impaired by the sunlight, he counted six people making their way up the street. They seemed to be carrying sticks and clubs, and they had on leather jackets. Biker gangs had always enjoyed making the day trip to the island and hanging out at one of the few gritty taverns in town, drinking beer, playing pool and listening to country music. And as long as they were left alone, they usually didn’t cause any problems. The group picked up their pace, seemingly in a hurry to catch up with the two of them. Tag tried to move, but his legs felt wobbly. If he headed back up to his house, he might not make it. Instead, he reached in and grabbed his M4, then positioned himself over the roof. A helicopter buzzed over Casco Bay and toward the mainland.

He called out for Versa, who quickly walked back over to his side of the street and stood watching the group hobbling toward them.

“If only I had my rifle, I could have stayed home and taken care of myself. I wouldn’t have needed your help, Colonel.”

“Trust me, Versa, you wouldn’t have made it five minutes there by yourself. You’re much better off here with us.”

“Those bastards had no right breaking into my place like that. Where’s the goddamn Portland coppers when you really need them?”

“Everything on this island has changed now, and it’s only going to get worse from here on in.”

“These morons better not pass that crud onto me,” she said in a disgusted tone.

Tag struggled to keep from throwing up and kept his eye on the approaching gang.

“Who the hell are those meatballs?”

“Go inside the house, Versa. You’ll be safer there.”

“Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? I suppose you have some devious trap inside there to make me your sex slave or something.”

“Sex slave?” Tag looked over at her in disbelief. Having this woman trapped in his house was the last thing he wanted to happen, especially in his condition. In fact, the idea of having sex with her very nearly made him gag.