The Liger Plague (Book 1) (7 page)

“Multiplier effect?” Silva said, turning to look at him. “What in the world is a multiplier effect?”

“The rate at which this disease will spread from person to person. The multiplier effect will depend heavily on the way in which the virus is contracted. If it’s a blood-borne agent, it will spread slowly, but if it’s spread by airborne transmission, which I believe might be the case here, a mere cough will be enough to pass this disease from one person to the next.”

“Mister, you’re really starting to scare the hell out of me,” Silva said.

“It’s Colonel Winters, Officer Silva, and trust me, if this threat is real, you haven’t even begun to be scared.”

The SeaRay slowed upon reaching the patrol vessel. The illuminated police boat bobbed in the swells, its strong beam pointed directly at the escaping craft. Despite the noise from the patrol car’s air-conditioning unit, he could hear the captain of the police boat over the loudspeaker ordering the
Funny Lady
to turn back to dock. The
Funny Lady
didn’t move, its powerful twin outboard motors still roiling the water around it. Cameron was known on the island as an arrogant bully and agitator, demanding and gruff, and a renowned supporter of the campaign to allow Cooke’s to secede from Portland, primarily to reduce his monstrous tax burden, which even Tag admitted was absurdly inflated. Cameron had even sued all his surrounding neighbors to gain sole rights to the one shared access road that led to the beach. Fortunately, he lost the case, and all his neighbors had a huge block party to celebrate his defeat. One of the cops moved to the stern of the patrol boat. To his dismay he saw that the cop onboard was dressed from head to toe in a white hazmat suit.

“Holy shit!” Silva said. “Maybe this guy is telling us the truth, Mikey.”

“Why’s he wearing a hazmat suit? And what’s that jerk in the powerboat waiting for?” Mueller said. “Why don’t he turn around and head back to the dock?”

“Can’t blame him for wanting to leave, Mikey, if what this guy says is true,” Silva responded. “Guy probably wants to get the hell off this island and away from the threat.”

“Maybe that’s what he
wants
to do, but he’s not getting very far with an armed police boat blocking his path.”

The stand-off seemed to take forever. Tag felt anxious having to sit in the back seat with his hands cuffed behind his back while valuable time passed. He thought of all the things he should be doing as he watched the two boats floating alongside each other, caught in a brief stand-off. He could hear the cop’s voice echoing over the loudspeaker. The police made no move to board the vessel, however, indicating to him that the chief had stressed the importance of having no contact with the islanders. At least the chief had taken the threat seriously, which was one good sign. The cop in the hazmat suit repeated his instructions, but the
Funny Lady
refused to move. It almost seemed as if Cameron was debating the matter before deciding on what action to take. Tag couldn’t see the lawyer, who was locked away inside the cabin and out of the light.

“We’re wasting valuable time here!” Tag yelled at the two cops.

“Yeah, Mikey, let’s check out this guy’s ID so we can start formulating a plan in case he’s right.”

Mueller turned to head back inside the squad car when the
Funny Lady
suddenly accelerated past the patrol boat. Spray kicked up, and the
Funny Lady
headed straight toward the Portland waterfront. The patrol boat immediately spun around and gave chase. Mueller jumped into the car and sped to the top of the hill to better see what would happen. Once they reached the top of the street, Tag could clearly see that the patrol boat had overtaken the
Funny Lady
.

An officer stood behind a machine gun and sprayed the boat’s fiberglass hull with bullets. The twin motors of the
Funny Girl
sputtered, and flames shot out. It quickly took on water, the stern starting to sink from the waves lapping over it. Cameron and his wife moved to the bow, put on their life jackets, and waved their arms at the patrol boat, hoping to be picked up. The patrol boat did not move, instead bobbing in the swells and watching them. The
Funny Lady
slowly sank in the bay, the bow rising up out of the water. Cameron snatched his wife’s hand, and the two of them jumped into the cold, choppy waters before it went down. One of the officers on the boat tossed them a lifesaver attached to a line, and Cameron and his wife grabbed hold of it. Once they had a firm grip on the orange raft, the patrol boat pulled them through the three-foot swells until they reached shore. The couple dragged themselves up onto the beach, their clothes soaking wet, and collapsed on the sand. Then the police boat sped off and resumed its patrol of the island.

“Holy Christ!” Mueller said, slapping his forehead in shock.

“Now do you believe me?” Tag said.

“Hurry up and drive over to this guy’s house, Mikey. I have a gut feeling he’s telling us the truth,” Silva said.

The cop car turned and sped down the hill, taking a sharp right onto Sandy Hill Lane. Tag directed them to his house, and the cop parked in the driveway. Mueller got out of the vehicle and dragged Tag out the back door, bumping his forehead against the metal frame. He had a good mind to punch this arrogant cop in the nose once they cut him loose.

“Nice pad,” Silva said, whistling in admiration. “Wish I could afford a summer home on Cooke’s Island instead of the crappy ranch I own in Westbrook.”

“Can we please get this over with?”

“Come on, then, pal, let’s hurry up and check you out. I got a feeling this is going to be a long fricken night,” Mueller said, reaching under Tag’s armpit to escort him to the front door.

“There’s one slight problem,” Tag said as they walked over the stone path.

“Suppose you’re going to tell us that you don’t have an ID inside the house, right? Who knows, maybe you’re the one who planted this bug here in the first place.”

“Are you losing your mind?” Tag responded. “Or just plain stupid?”

“What’s the problem?” Silva asked. “We’ve got a shit-storm going on here during the busiest time of the year, and now we find out you’re jerking our chain. Me and Mikey here are the only two cops assigned to Cooke’s Island, and we’re going to have our hands full until things are under control. I suggest you stop bullshitting us and get to the point.”

“Look, I’m not bullshitting either one of you,” Tag said, turning to face them. “Yes, my identification is inside the house, but the two of you cannot, under any circumstances, come inside.”

“Why the hell not?” asked Mueller.

“Because my wife and daughter are in there. That’s their golf cart and our BMW parked in the driveway. I told them to wait in the basement and stay put until I returned.”

“Who cares if your wife and kid are in the house? We go inside, you prove to us you are who you really say you are, then we’re all good. If not, we take you down to the station and book your sorry ass.”

“You don’t understand, officers,” Tag said. “My wife and daughter have probably become infected with the virus. If the two of you go inside, then there’s a good chance that you’ll both contract this infectious disease as well. And trust me, this is not something you want to catch.”

The two cops stared at each other, unsure of what to say.

“You’re going to have to trust me, officers. Please release the cuffs and let me go inside.”

“No can do, pal. We can’t take the chance of releasing you and then finding out you’re some kind of domestic terrorist or serial killer.”

“This whole island could potentially be destroyed and all you’re worried about is me escaping into my own home? Check my shorts. The house keys are in my left pocket.”

“Let him go, Mikey,” said Silva. “We got nothing to lose.”

“No, Peggy, I will not let him go.”

“If this thing spreads like he’s saying, Mikey, then I’m holding you personally responsible.”

“And if he escapes and blows up another building on the island, then it’ll be your ass on the line.”

“Don’t be such a goddamn asshole. Let the man go inside and get his friggin’ ID.”

“I promise I won’t run out the back door,” Tag said, shaking his head in frustration. “Besides, where am I going to go? The ferries have been shut down and the island’s in chaos.”

“C’mon, Mikey, we have more important shit to take care of than to stand here screwing around with this clown.”

“Fuck it,” Mueller said, removing the plastic cuffs from Tag’s wrists. “I suppose you couldn’t make things any worse than they already are.”

“Trust me, officers, things can and will get
much
worse than this. You two stay put until I return with some hazmat face masks and my ID.”

Tag unlocked the door and ran inside. Before he retrieved his license, he went downstairs and unlocked the basement door, relieved to see Monica and Taylor resting comfortably on the sofa and watching the news. Monica looked as if she’d been crying. Taylor lay sprawled with her head on her mother’s lap, watching the TV stoically.

“Please tell us what’s happening on this island, Tag.”

“I don’t quite know yet, but I’m working on it,” he said, kneeling next to her on the sofa. “I can’t stay with you right now. I’ve got to go out there and help take care of the situation on the island, which has gotten a lot worse. People downtown are panicking.”

“Have we been attacked? Please be honest with me.”

“I can’t be sure if it’s a dangerous virus or a well-planned hoax. My guess is that it’s just a scare, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“Come on, Dad,” said Taylor. “Why else would they spread a virus on the island? To give us the flu?”

“If a terrorist released a virus, they’d most likely do it on the mainland so that they could maximize death rates. It doesn’t make sense. There’s something else going on here that I can’t quite pinpoint, but I doubt that whoever did this would choose to release a lethal virus on such a small island off the coast of Maine. There’s nothing to be gained from it. Besides, to develop such a hybrid organism would be extremely difficult, if not virtually impossible,” he lied.

“Let’s pray that you’re right.”

“What they’ve managed to do is create chaos, and that’s often a more frightening and effective tool than the actual threat.”

“So what’s next, Dad? Do we stay down here in this basement and chill?”

“For the time being. I’ll be back shortly when I can better figure things out. Whatever you do, neither of you use your cell phones. I’ve disabled the ones I’ve found inside the house. If anyone rings the bell or comes to the door, don’t answer it no matter what they say or how desperate they seem. Understand?”

They nodded their heads in agreement. He kissed Monica and Taylor on their foreheads and headed back upstairs. Once in the kitchen, he grabbed the Stinger combat knife, his Glock pistol and his military ID. It seemed like such a small arsenal in the battle against the coming tide of a biological event, but he supposed it was better than nothing. Of course, he knew that if he couldn’t help these people, then no one else could. He’d been a combat vet and had run a multi-million dollar agency as efficiently as any of his predecessors. Not to mention that he’d been vaccinated against the plague soon to hit the island. Either that or else the vaccine was merely a ruse used to help perpetuate this giant hoax. He couldn’t take any chances. He went to his workshop for his portable drill and replaced the bit with a half-inch bit. The drill roared to life once he squeezed the orange trigger. He replaced the battery with a freshly charged one and headed back upstairs with his arms full.

The two cops! He’d almost forgotten about them. He went out the front door and saw them leaning up against the hood of the patrol car, smoking. Mueller tossed his butt to the ground and pulled out another. To his horror Silva was talking on her cell phone. Tag sprinted down the steps and pulled it away from her ear, tossing it far down the cliff below and into the thick vegetation.

“Hey! What the hell’d you do that for, asshole?”

“I told you to stay off your cell phone!”

“You ain’t my boss!” She took out her revolver and pointed it at him. “I’ll put a few holes in your army ass, Colonel, if you don’t chill the fuck out. Now put the gun down.”

“I knew we shouldn’t have trusted this asshole, Peg.”

“I’m sorry about doing that,” he said, dropping everything to the pavement.

“I was talking to my husband and kid, you son-of-a-bitch!”

“Your phone is infected, officer! You ever want to see your husband and kid again, then you better put all calls on speakerphone from now on,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Too late for that now!”

“My ID fell to the ground.”

“You losing your mind?” Mueller said, laughing bitterly. “How can her cell phone be infected? She’s had it in her pocket the entire time.”

“It’s the radio frequency waves,” Tag said, watching Silva walk over and pick up his military ID. “The waves coming out of it may have the potential to activate targeted cells in the brain and cause damage to the basal ganglia region.”

“What the hell are you talking about with that gibberish?”

“He is who he says he is, Mikey. Says here he’s Colonel Taggert Winters of the United States Army. Got a driver’s license from Maryland as well.”

“How come I’ve never seen you on this island before, Colonel?”

“Because I’ve never gotten into trouble with the law.”

“Okay, Colonel, we know you’re the real deal. Now what?” Silva said.

“Here,” he said, passing them the hazmat kit. “Gloves, disinfectant spray, and face masks that you should wear at all times.”

“You mean this flimsy little face mask is going to protect us from catching the crud?”

“That’s a certified AVAB face mask. Antivirus and bacterial. Stops 99.9% of all organisms that you might come in contact with. So wear it with confidence if you want to stay healthy.”

“Kind of like safe sex, huh, Colonel?” Mueller said, wrapping the rubber band around his head. “Little snug but not bad.”