The Reaper Virus (6 page)

I took a short nap. My new trend seemed to be
getting a restless few hours of sleep followed by more fully
conscious worrying. I spent the rest of that afternoon playing in
the backyard with Maddox and Calise. The boy had become quite the
little soccer star. We kicked that ball back and forth in the grass
for a couple hours with Calise in a giggle-filled chase after it.
Enjoying myself made it a little easier to hide my inner worry from
the kids. With so much worry everywhere we looked, they didn’t ever
need to know their daddy was feeling it too. For a little while
there, I almost forgot the world was basically tearing itself
apart.

A few years before that, when Calise was two,
I fenced in the backyard so the kids could play a little more
safely. Most of it was already fenced in from other people’s yards;
I just finished the job and fixed up what was already there. In
hindsight, it was the best home improvement I ever made. I was
actually able to relax… some. It was nice just enjoying the moment
without having to look around in a paranoid search for a danger
that would probably never come.

Mom called again to check in. She stressed
her wish that we were already on our way down there. I assured her
that we would leave after I got home from work that morning. At
least that got her to back down. She handed the phone over to my
dad after that and I went into the other room. I told him what I
knew, all of it. He was silent for a minute or two. In reality I
knew he was debating over talking to me like I was eighteen years
old. You know, the “I can’t tell you what to do because you’re an
adult, but you should really consider doing this” talk? But he
didn’t. Instead he told me just to be careful and to use my best
judgment. I could hear it in his voice; he knew this was going to
get real bad, real quick.

He changed the subject as soon as he could
and started talking about the farm and what he had been doing to
prepare for the long haul. Disaster or not, I wouldn’t be surprised
if they stayed down there indefinitely.

After all the time spent on the phone I
needed to get out. It was time to start boarding up windows. Five
or six other houses in the neighborhood had already been sealed
tight, so I wouldn’t feel too odd doing it as well. If I involved
Maddox in the handiwork it would look even less strange. The boy
loved helping me build things; I loved spending the time with
him.

I devised a way to secure the house, but also
make room for an emergency exit. Directly beneath our bedroom
window was a metal stand for the garden hose. It was solidly
mounted in the ground and could make for a good step up/down to the
window. My plan was to put the lower boards on a hinge to make it
so they could swing out. That way we could get out into the
backyard pretty discreetly. I had some old hardware that could be
used as a locking mechanism from the inside. If it worked, it’d be
like a secret door but still strong enough to fortify the window.
After that was sorted, I loaded up the car. The year before, we
bought a little hatchback suitable for a family of four. I packed
as much as possible inside and on the roof rack. If we had to go in
a hurry, I didn’t want to stop to pack the damn car. We were
stocked up enough that loading the car wouldn’t take away from
supplies in the house.

* * *

2140 hours:

Normal Sunday night Fox shows were
interrupted for a breaking news conference from the White House.
Immediately my heart sank. Any breaking news at that time had about
a 99% chance of being bad news.

The screen went to a shot of the president
standing next to the CDC director at a podium stamped with the
White House seal. It was like watching a horrendous car wreck – I
couldn’t look away. I could almost hear my heart palpitating.

The president spoke first, briefly. He
introduced Dr. Thomas Frieden, director of the Centers for Disease
Control and Prevention. He then prefaced that there would be no
questions following the good doctor’s update or any final remarks
made by himself. Silence fell over the crowd of reporters as he
stepped aside and Dr. Frieden took the podium.

I felt like I was going to vomit… even the
butterflies in my stomach were nauseous.

“
Laboratories around the
globe have made combating the R33PR “Reaper” virus their main
priority. Regrettably, I must announce that little to no progress
has been made in combating the voracious spread of this pandemic.
The purpose of this press conference tonight is to address recent
claims and rumors spreading worldwide. Our understanding of the
virus thus far has been that symptoms increase in severity before
leading to extremely violent behavior in the infected.”

Sarah was snuggled on my left side,
practically fused to me in her typical sweet cuddly way. The more
the news conference progressed, the less blood circulated in my
hand currently entwined within hers.

“
We previously believed
that this violent behavior was possibly the result of increased
adrenaline production in afflicted subjects or even purely
coincidental. However, it is now believed that such outbursts are
experienced in all subjects infected with the Reaper strain. Unlike
its predecessor, mortality rate is one-hundred percent for this
mutation. Recent outlandish claims are that the infected subject
succumbs to the virus, and then engages in violent behavior after
death. It must be noted that the only reason this is even being
discussed is because this rumor has been circulated from
independent sources around the world. ALL current medical data
concludes that such a thing is not possible after death. The only
reason it is even being investigated is because of the unusual
nature of this virus.”

Dr. Frieden quietly stepped aside as the
president moved back to the spotlight.

“
It goes without saying
that we are all affected by this pandemic. I ask all citizens to
remain calm and avoid panic. Federal agencies are working
diligently to support local hospitals and enforce containment. As
difficult as it may be, it is vital that anyone exposed to an
infected subject proceed with caution.”

He talked a little longer but we didn’t
listen. Sarah gripped my hand tighter and looked me in the eyes.
For a second I had to fight a smile – even with such a worrisome
expression on her face, I was struck by her beauty. She told me she
didn’t think I should go to work that night. I told her I had one
more night to get through and we could either leave town or enjoy a
campout in the house.

She backed down after I showed her my
survival pack – Kukri included. It also helped that she knew I was
going to a building filled with trained marksmen. I’d decided to
trade in my shiny dress shoes for my police-grade combat boots. I
loved those things and I’d barely worn them. They were an
unreturned leftover from the police academy. Call it a consolation
prize if you must.

* * *

2334 hours:

Every mile that brought me closer to work
made me want to turn around a little more. In fact, I probably
would
have if there were fewer cars going
the other direction. The unusual thing about the traffic wasn’t
that there was a lot of it, but that it was going in
both
directions. It gave me the impression that
everyone was trying to run away – yet no one really knew where to
run.

Even though traffic was moderate around the
parking deck it was fairly barren on the inside. It reminded me of
parking over a holiday weekend. I parked at my preferred spot on
the Academic Parking Deck, without incident. For years I’d always
parked my car on the second level, far northwest corner, with a
good view overlooking Broad Street. The deck was six levels and
backed up to our building with an alley separating the two. We had
three back doors leading to the various sections of our department,
all sealed with a maglock backed by a generator. Our door wasn’t
labeled and was easy enough to sneak in and out of - assuming there
wasn’t a line of patrol cars parked in the alley.

After surveying the area I decided things
looked active, but not violent or anything. It reminded me of Broad
Street on New Year’s Eve. I debated bringing my survival pack
inside. It was usually frowned upon to bring a large machete-style
knife into a police station, employee or not, so siding with my
responsible side, I left the pack in my trunk. I hoped it was the
right decision this time around.

Walking down the twenty-eight concrete steps
and the hundred feet or so to the back middle door I took a moment
to observe my surroundings. Looking around at the moderate activity
I tried to put myself at ease. I didn’t see any obviously infected
people. There had been days with busier traffic than this. Then I
walked inside.

Think of a hornets’ nest after some kid poked
it with a stick. It was a flurry of activity, none of it as
organized as a para-military organization should be. My stomach
sank for the second time in as many hours. Both doors to the
read-off room were closed, always a sign that something big was
going on. Walking down the long hallway to dispatch I expected to
hear more activity. After going through the thick wooden doors I
was perplexed to find things more on the quiet side.

The student escort service, which was
essentially a free taxi for ungrateful students/staff, had been
suspended indefinitely. I’m told it was an order that came from the
university president in an attempt to quell any spread of the
virus.

On top of that, all classes had been
cancelled. The university was locked up tight; essential personnel
were the only employees required to report. This of course meant
us.

Day Seven.

November 16th – 0019 hours:

I was feverishly going through every news site I
could find, hoping and praying that what I was reading wasn’t true.
It was breaking news – no pictures, at least none discernable.
Direct from the Louisville, Kentucky NBC Affiliate:

“
We’re still waiting on
final confirmation from the FAA, however, preliminary reports
indicate that a Delta Airlines Boeing 747-400 has crashed. The
plane has engulfed the downtown business district immediately south
of the Ohio River. Unconfirmed sources state that the aircraft was
attempting to make an emergency landing at the Louisville
International Airport located almost seven miles south of downtown.
These reports state that the plane issued a mayday minutes before
the crash. It is believed that the mayday was in reference to an
outbreak of the Reaper virus from within the cabin of the aircraft.
It is too early to ascertain how many may have been killed in this
tragedy.”

All the pictures showed a city on fire. It
looked almost like a scene from any disaster movie. A silhouette of
what remained of downtown Louisville was backlit by a hellish
glow.

Was this really happening?

* * *

0050 hours:

The White House released a statement to all
major news outlets saying that the FAA had grounded
all
flights to prevent another Louisville from
happening. People were advised to stay indoors until the National
Guard could be mobilized in all metropolitan areas.

Outside, people weren’t being quite as civil
as they were when I came in. There were fights breaking out all
over the place. I wouldn’t have been surprised if all the officers
had run out of OC pepper spray by sunrise. Phones had lit up, but
with escorts being completely shut down it could be worse. We had
plenty of people working, but I didn’t think patrol was as
fortunate. I was seeing officers from other shifts that never
worked midnights too, so things had to have gotten bad out in the
streets of Richmond.

The hospital area went into total quarantine.
Richmond Ambulance was all over the city doing their best to treat
people on scene, but there were only so many people that were able
to help. Truth be told, we simply didn’t seem to have the manpower
for this pandemic.

I needed to get a look outside. If there was
a chance I could get out, I was going now. Going in to work that
night was a bad idea, which I didn’t realize until that moment. I’d
have given anything to be home listening to Sarah lecture me about
her being right. Maybe it’s true that women
are
always right.

* * *

0100 hours:

I stepped out front onto Grace Street to
assess any chance of getting home. The answer became abundantly
clear in the two minutes I was outside. In front of the 7-Eleven,
half a block away, five guys were in a nasty fight. Two of the guys
were covered in blood, one with a gaping wound on his right
forearm. I heard maybe half a dozen gunshots; didn’t see any muzzle
flashes, but they sounded close. Everyone around ducked in response
to the booms. The group fighting didn’t seem to take notice,
probably distracted by the knife the guy with the open wound was
waving around.

There were a lot of people out, cars backed
up, and the air was thick with a palpable panic. Looking around, I
didn’t see anyone in uniform, and I felt like I had a target on my
back. It didn’t take any more convincing; I practically jumped back
inside. A magnetic door and bulletproof windows had never felt so
comforting.

I didn’t have to explain the situation to my
coworkers. My expression must have said it all. Not to mention the
gunshots were plenty audible from within our brick tomb.

My mind raced over everything it had seen. I
had to call Sarah immediately. That was all my brain could think to
do.