Containment (25 page)

Gordon felt fear—for the first time in a long time, he felt scared. Not the sort of fear he'd occasionally felt before—it was nothing like the vague sense of unease when he used to think about how the company might fail, or when he worried about what would happen to his son, or when he fretted over his career, the rising national debt, politicians who must have been lobotomized before taking office. This was a primitive, raw kind of emotion, coming from deep inside.

Someone threw a bottle. The liquid spilled out as the glass spun crazily through the air. If the intent had been to hit either Cecily or Gordon it was a bad shot
—with a splattering of glass the bottle landed far away, hitting the front of one of the nearby row homes.

The pickup truck slowly weaved down the road. Its driver, apparently no more sober than the passengers in the back, sideswiped a parked car; the squeal of metal grinding against metal caused Gordon to throw his hands up to his ears.

"End of worlders," said Cecily, watching them go. The truck disappeared down the street. Peace and quiet returned.

Gordon let his hands drop.
"Are there many crazy people like that around here?"

"
You call that crazy? They're just having one last party before they die. Irresponsible, maybe, but not exactly crazy. Those aren't the ones we have to worry too much about." She looked around. "Let's go back home. I think we've done our bit to keep the zone civilized. It'll be dark soon."

"
Wait." Gordon caught a glimpse of a body down the street. "We're not finished yet," he said grimly, and started down the sidewalk.

Cecily followed him. They reached the body sprawled out on the pavement, face up. Cecily stopped.
"Gordon...."

Gordon stared. It was a man about his age, unshaven, unkempt.
"What a way to die," said Gordon, in a disgusted tone.

"
Gordon—"

"
You want to get some more of that blue plastic?" asked Gordon, as he grabbed hold of the arms.

"
What the hell?" said the man.

With a look of horror Gordon dropped the arms.

"I tried to warn you," whispered Cecily. "That one's still breathing. For now."

"
What the...hell?" The man opened his eyes—which didn't seem capable of focusing, but finally one eye, then the other, lit on Gordon. Spittle drooled down the mouth. "What you trying to do, boy? You a faggot or something?"

Gordon held up his hands.
"Sorry."

The man tried to get up.
"C'mere. I'm gonna kick...." He passed out before he could finish. The filthy head slid back onto the pavement and landed with a definite thud.

Gordon felt a hand on his arm.

"We've done our duty for the day," said Cecily. "Let's go."

"
They're all like this?" Gordon couldn't believe it. "Drunk? Drunk to the point of unconsciousness?"

"
Call it self-medication." Cecily pulled Gordon away. "Not everyone is like this. I'm not, you're not. The people back at the gym aren't. Come on, let's call it a day. There's a curfew. The troops will pick this fellow up and give him a comfortable cot where he can sleep it off."

They got only a
block before Cecily said, "Crap."

Gordon looked up sharply.
"What?"

Then he saw them. Five tough-looking young men had strolled out of an alley right in front of them.

Medburg, Pennsylvania
/ 5:00 p.m.

Gary was the one who had to call for the mortuary's carriers. His mother's strength was just about gone, and she couldn't stop crying.

The hazard-suited men and women showed up and Loretta Winters made a scene when they started taking her youngest daughter away.

"She's dead, Mom," Gary had said. He wiped a tear from his own cheek. "They need to take the body, so maybe we won't get sick."

His mother would not be consoled. Finally one of the medical peopl
e sedated her before they left with Yvonne's body. She was now resting in her bedroom; still sobbing, Gary knew, but quietly, softly.

Gary realized that he was now in charge of the household. His first act was to call his father
—but he couldn't get through. Neither the land line nor his cell phone worked.

I
'm on my own, he thought. No one to turn to for advice. No one except Alicia, and Gary was unsure how much help his sister would be.

Gary walked into the living room. Curled up on the couch, Alicia was embracing her youngest brother and gently stroking his hair. They were quiet; both had eerily vacant expressions.

"They took Yvonne," Gary reported. "Mom's upstairs. They gave her something so that she could go to sleep."

There was no response from Alicia, not even an indication that she
'd heard what he had said.

Gary stepped up to her.
"Alicia," he pleaded.

Finally her gaze drifted his way. Alicia had been the one to find Yvonne. The eight-year-old had been lying on her back, her chest heaving up and down and her back arching like a gigantic wave was rolling down her body. Her mouth and eyes were wide open, but no amount shaking and screaming would bring her around. A futile series of resuscitations followed, first Alicia, then Loretta, and finally Gary.

Gary laid a hand on his sister's shoulder. "We'll need supplies soon."

A huge tear rolled down Alicia
's cheek. "Like we're going to live much longer."

Gary set his jaw.
"We will. We'll find a way."

His sister turned her head away from him.

He shook her shoulder. What happened to the boisterous girl who had been his sister? How had she been swallowed up by this pathetic quitter? "Snap out of it, Leesh! You've got to help me, we've got to get through this."

Alicia didn
't answer. Gary resisted the urge to slap her, amazed that the urge came over him at all. He paused to think.

He turned and headed for the stairs. His sister stopped him when she spoke.

"Like rats," she said. "Isn't that what Jimmy told us?"

Gary whirled around, furious.
"I'm not a rat! You're not a rat! Yvonne wasn't a rat!"

Storming upstairs, Gary shoved his bedroom door open. Then, before going in, he quietly padded down the hall and listened at his mother
's door. Hearing nothing, he cracked the door open and peeked in. She was asleep, finally.

As Gary closed the door, a thought struck him that made the hair on his arms stick straight up. He peered at his mother again, closely this time. Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be asleep
—and Gary saw her chest move up and down, rhythmically.

He
sighed with relief. Silently creeping down the hall, he returned to his bedroom.

The government wasn
't telling them the results of the tests. They'd promised, kept promising, a litany of phrases meaning roughly the same thing: "real soon now" and "in preparation" and "putting the finishing touches on it." It was just a matter of time before his mother's breathing would stop, and the same would happen to the rest of them. His brother, and Alicia, and all of his friends. Exactly like rats caught in a trap.

Gary reached under his mattress.

It wouldn't be like that, he vowed to himself. Not
exactly
like rats.

* * *

A few miles from the Winters' home, Abe sat in a house on a corner lot of Glaser Avenue and sipped Barbados rum from a five-ounce tumbler. It was one of the few "vices" that the drug dealer would allow himself.

On television a local news announcer apologized for a lack of updated pictures from the zone.
"Our camera crews are no longer allowed inside the containment zone, and our helicopters are no longer allowed to fly over it."

Yeah, that
's about right, thought Abe. They're worried they might get shot at.

The announcer continued.
"Officials describe the situation in the containment zone is as well as can be expected."

Abe snorted.

"And here with us, live from Atlanta, is one of the country's leading infectious disease scientists...."

Abe
's interest drifted. He poured another shot of rum.

Jimmy walked in.
"Man," he said. "It's getting rough out there."

Glancing over his shoulder, Abe said,
"What you talking about? Ain't nobody rougher than you, dude." Abe's smile vanished when he saw the blood on Jimmy's shirt. "What the hell happened?"

"
Punks jumped me." Jimmy wiped his mouth and looked at his hand. "Cut my lip pretty good."

Abe got up.
"You need help."

"
No." Jimmy put down a sack.

Peering inside, Abe saw some cans and a carton of juice.
"You should have just given them this stuff. No sense fighting over—"

"
They didn't want the stuff. Anyone can get food and supplies just by walking up to the depots they got around the zone."

"
Then what they be wanting?"

"
Hell if I know. A piece of my hide, I guess."

"
Man, it's time to get out of here. People getting crazy."

"
Yeah." Jimmy grabbed a towel and held it up to his mouth.

"
You all right?" asked Abe.

Jimmy pulled the towel away and explored the inside of his mouth with a finger.
"They chipped a tooth. Damn bastards, surprised me. Came right out an alley."

"
Let me look."

"
Forget it. It'll be all right." Jimmy threw away the towel.

"
How'd you get away?"

Reaching under his shirt, Jimmy
pulled out a Kahr PM9. He examined the handgun and the magazine. "I plugged one of them, and the others decided it was a good idea to leave me alone."

Abe eyed the weapon.
"Good thing dudes around here don't have many guns lying around." He smiled briefly. "I mean besides us."

After rummaging in a box underneath the low table Abe had used for a footrest, Jimmy pulled out some shells. He reloaded the magazine and snapped it into place.
"When are we taking off?"

"
I've been talking to some of our little friends. They be ready too."

"
Good." Jimmy laid the handgun gently on the table. "Tonight?"

"
No, man. Not tonight."

"
Why not? We keep waiting and then the first thing you know they got tanks out there along the fence."

Abe gave him a look. Jimmy caught the meaning.

"They already got tanks?" he cried.

Abe nodded solemnly.
"In places."

Jimmy shook his head.
"Man, that ain't good."

The two business partners stared at each other for a moment.

"We're going to die," said Jimmy. He looked as if he believed it.

"
Don't be talking like that. I got ideas."

"
Seems like I remember you were the one that didn't like facing artillery. Now that's just what we've got to do." Jimmy banged a fist into his palm. "We should have gone earlier!"

"
Maybe." Abe was reluctant to acknowledge mistakes, particularly in front of a business partner—even one he trusted. But he regretted not having made a move sooner. "I guess I let myself start to believe in that crap they were saying, about opening the zone and finding a cure or something—"

"
Never believe what the government says!" Jimmy stared wide-eyed at his partner. "Never, never, never! Liars! That's why I didn't go to their damn testing thing—and I'm glad I didn't. Have they said anything about it? Well, have they?"

"
It's too soon." Abe had gone to a testing center—under a false name. The medical people didn't give him any trouble.

"
They'll just keep us here until everyone drops."

Abe saw Jimmy reach for his gun. An instant of panic came over him. His automatic was in its holster all the way on the other side of the room.

When Jimmy laid a hand on his gun, some of the fire went out of his eyes. A measure of calm restored itself. "So you been talking to our young buddies?" He picked up the Kahr, fingered it briefly, then set it back down.

A sense of relief came over Abe. It failed to dispel all his tension but he felt a lot better than he had a few seconds ago. From now on, until they got out of the zone, he would have to be extra careful what he said around Jimmy. He looked up to see Jimmy giving him an appraising look. Maybe Jimmy was thinking the same thing about me, Abe thought.