SurviRal (4 page)

The person in front of Clint in the store threw his arms up. “Seventy thousand! How did it get to be so many, so fast?” He turned, looked at Clint, and then suddenly ran out of the electronics department. Clint stepped closer to the TV.

“And now,” the Secretary of Health said, “I give you the Vice President of the United States.”

She stepped off the platform. Murmuring could be heard every bit as much as applause when the Vice President came forward. He was a tall man with a big stride. Once in front of the microphone, he didn’t mince words.

“The President is ill,” he said. “We’re not going to keep the country in the dark. The doctors have confirmed he has contracted the newly-identified H5N1 flu strain.”

The crowd buzz grew louder.

“This is not a time to panic,” he continued. “It is a time for Americans to pull together and address the situation with composure, and apply the workmanlike resolve which made this country great. All state health organizations are now working with the CDC. We must band as a people—a great and studious people. Together we can defeat this.”

“What about the President!” several reporters yelled. The rumbling before him rose to a high level. The Vice President held up his hands until they quieted again.

“Rest assured the President is in the best hands possible, and is being properly treated in every conceivable way. We are confident of his recovery. But, under the circumstances, and being as he is now under quarantine himself, he has relegated Presidential powers unto me. I am now acting President.”

The Vice President suddenly sneezed. The crowd of reporters reacted with a collective gasp. Flash bulbs went off.

“That was a normal sneeze,” the Vice President said with a smile. “Someone’s wearing too much perfume, like my wife does.” Polite laughter erupted in places. He continued speaking.

“I just came from a thorough examination, where I was given a clean bill of health. I’m perfectly prepared for performing my duties as my job requires—which includes seeing to the safety of the American people. I’m asking all Americans to refrain from unnecessary travel of all types, and to use diligence when visiting public places. The Senate and House of Representatives will no longer physically meet in their normal buildings, but will now hold special videoconferencing sessions. Details about that are forthcoming. That’s all for now. Thank you and God help us.”

The reporters yelling for more failed to slow the Vice President’s exit. The television station, however, immediately broke to an anchor desk. The anchorman talked rapidly.

“If you’ve been watching, you know we’ve just received confirmation that the President is indeed sick with the deadly avian flu strain, and the Vice President is now acting President. Our political commentators are standing by with their reaction to this disturbing news—but first, we’re getting word of a breaking story in the Netherlands that may be connected with the terrifying outbreak. Dr. Bart Fecher, the famed virology researcher, has apparently committed suicide. We take you now to our correspondent station in Rotterdam.”

A new scene with a different podium now showed. This one was indoors. A dark-skinned man slowly walked up to the microphone. He appeared to be sulking, and wiped his eyes with a handkerchief. He then began talking in Dutch. A translator relayed what was said. A transcript in English also scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

“I …I …this is the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do. I’m only speaking to you now because I know Dr. Fecher would want me to. I was his trusted assistant for the last nine years. We worked together in the secure virology lab at Erasmus Medical Center. He was …a brilliant man.”

A name now also showed on the screen: Dr. Andries Koning.

“He only ever wanted to protect the world from this. He felt he failed. Worse, Dr. Fecher believed his actions were responsible for helping bring about the very thing he wanted to protect us all from. He simply could not live with this knowledge. That is why he’s …gone.”

A long moment of silence followed where Dr. Koning attempted to re-gather himself. Finally, he continued.

“We hoped beyond hope the infection would not further propagate in the wild once it escaped our facility. I now confess to you what we were afraid to admit before. The plane crash last December breached the secure viral science laboratory, and infected polecats were removed by birds of prey. The experiment we were working on was a heretofore undisclosed sixth mutation of the H5N1 virus. Dr. Fecher wished to form a strain that would mutate to a safer, non-life threatening variant. Instead, what we ended up creating was the opposite—a weaker strain now converts itself into this sixth mutation variant. Infection of the human population with this virus is an unfathomable nightmare. It’s an indiscriminate killer, more resilient than anything we’ve seen or worked with.”

Absolute silence at his next pause, both in the building he was talking from and in the store where Clint and a small crowd had assembled around the television.

“We are turning over all research data to the World Health Organization and the respective health agencies of all countries who request it. Perhaps we can collectively discover a way to stop it, before… before…”

Dr. Koning couldn’t finish. He stepped down. The TV station went back to the anchor desk, but Clint had heard enough for the day and went to find Jenny.

She was at the register making a purchase. They decided to leave the mall and pick up something special from the grocery store to cook at home. Clint relayed everything he learned to her as they drove.

“Can’t say I’m surprised by any of it,” Jenny said. “I sure hope the President recovers. Did they say anything about the outbreak spreading to any new states?”

“No. But I left to find you, so I don’t know.”

“Well, last I saw it was in fifteen states, only those near the Atlantic and Pacific coasts. As difficult as they’ve made travelling, I’m not that worried about it coming to Colorado. Especially with the CDC now controlling the National Guard. Shouldn’t you be turning here?”

“Huh?” Clint glanced at her. “Oh, no—not Sam’s Club. We’ll just pop into Safeway. It’s only a few items, and they have fresher meat.”

“All right. If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll model my new outfit for you when we get home.”

The Safeway parking lot was a flashback to the Home Depot lot—but even worse. People had carts loaded with toilet paper and canned food. Some of them were packed ridiculously high, including one couple who each pushed an overloaded cart. Everyone was hurrying and looking around as if they were worried about being mugged.

“Oh no,” Jenny said. “People are hoarding! God, this is ugly. I don’t want to go in there. Let’s go back to Sam’s Club, honey.”

“Yeah… yeah I think you’re right.”

As they left the parking lot, Jenny rolled down her window, stuck her head out, and screamed.

“What the hell is wrong with all you stupid people!”

Clint chuckled. He looked at his wife, smiled, and fell in love with her all over again. For a moment he was taken back to their college days together.

Sam’s Club, fortunately, wasn’t as crazy. But there was still more parking lot activity than usual. Also, a team of seven or eight employees were blocking the front doors checking membership cards, versus the usual one person who did it from just inside the front door.

“It’s pandemonium out here,” the girl checking their card said. “Lots of non-members trying to get in, most of them saying they want to open a membership. We have to tell them Sam’s Club is no longer accepting new members. Some of them get quite angry.”

“When did you stop taking new members?” Jenny asked.

“Two hours ago. Thanks for shopping at Sam’s Club.”

As Clint and Jenny strolled through the front doors, they heard tires screeching in the parking lot followed by a voice shouting from an open car window: “Fuck you Sam’s Club!”

Clint and Jenny looked at each other with big smiles. Jenny laughed. But then she grabbed a cart.

“Maybe it’s not such a bad idea to stock up on a few things…”

Chapter Three

Fifth-district Congressman Wade Bennett wasn’t all that impressed with the interior of the Boeing C-17. But then he was used to first-class pampering on commercial passenger jets. His contemporaries, however, all seemed thrilled at being taken home on an Air Force craft. Especially second-district Congresswoman Carol Belcher, sitting next to him. She was an attractive woman, but Wade didn’t care for the scent of her cologne today.

“I’m soooo glad to be going home,” Carol said. “Aren’t you?”

Wade managed a smile. “Always nice to be home, especially when you live in our state. But I was all set for a good long session this year. Had my hat in the ring on two bills, and ready for a fight. So I’m disappointed work-wise.”

“We’re still working. Our first videoconferencing session is in less than a week. You can fight for your bills then, if the docket ever gets to them. It’ll be interesting to see how this works.”

“I’m guessing not very well.” Wade fished through the bucket of booze mini-bottles and found another bourbon before continuing his rant.

“And the docket is out the window. We’ll only be talking about emergency measures now—assuming we actually get this contraption working, and then some semblance of order established. Hmm. Maybe I can get the marijuana-growing contract tacked on to an emergency medical supply bill.”

“Your compassion for humanity is matched only by your faith in modern technology, as usual. Is there a gin in there?”

Wade handed Carol the bucket. She snatched it away from him and shook her head full of auburn hair in disgust as she dug for her own bottle. Eventually her hand came out with a Tanqueray.

“Technology,” Wade grumbled as he poured the whiskey in his tumbler of half-melted ice. “This country may be about to discover firsthand that all solutions depending on it are fickle at best. What’s everyone going to do if the grid goes down? How many congressmen besides me have a backup generator? Not enough for a quorum, I’ll tell you that.”

“We’ve all been told to get them,” Carol said. “Or have the National Guard deliver one if necessary. And our network is satellite-linked. Just plug the little antennae they gave us into a USB port and install the software. You obviously haven’t read your adjournment instructions.”

“No. Been busy reading the damned newspapers. Whole mother-loving country is in an outright panic. Looting, robberies, hoarding, running to the hills. Businesses shutting their doors. And the stock exchange closed! Now they’re doing all trading electronically. Tell me that isn’t an invitation for disaster.”

“The overwhelming majority of stock transactions have been done that way for more than a decade now, Wade. The exchange floor is a relic, something for tourists to go see. You need to get with the times.”

“My constituency doesn’t want a man who gets with the times. They want a man who holds to the tried and true, and, most importantly, keeps the potheads and gun control freaks up in your district.”

“Man?” Carol said.

“They haven’t elected a woman yet.” Wade tossed back his drink. “As I’m sure you’re aware. All you liberals up there know better than to set foot in my town.”

“Don’t look now but we’re coming.”

“Only if you’re fleeing the big city in a panic. Otherwise, no one’s going anywhere until this thing plays out.”

Carol sighed. “How do you think it will play out?”

“They’ll come up with a vaccine. If you can vaccinate one kind of flu, you can learn how to do it for any of them. But it takes time to develop. The question is how many people are going to die first. And what will happen to our country’s infrastructure in the meantime.”

“I don’t know why I ask you those kinds of questions.” Carol took a swig of gin directly from the mini-bottle. “You never know what you’re talking about.” Her voice was suddenly raspy.

“That’s just an act, sweetheart. I know more than I let on.”

The pilot announced they were on their final approach to Buckley Air Force Base. The passengers, mostly air force officers with a dozen or so legislators mixed in, fastened their seatbelts.

“Poor Phil,” Carol said. “I’m going to visit his family. I’d ask if you want to come along, but I already know—”

“Wait a week,” Wade said. “By then you’ll probably know whether to bring a casserole or not.”

“You really are an ass.”

“Sorry. No disrespect intended. I love Phil, you know that. It’s a good thing we all got the hell out of Washington, or the virus alone would have taken us below quorum. We’re damn fortunate our ranks weren’t reduced by more than ten or twelve percent, whatever it is.”

“Thirty-eight from the house and twenty from the senate, last I heard.” Carol turned on her iPad and started playing some stupid-looking game that involved matching up pieces of candy.

Wade only shook his head. Technology. In the end, that might prove to be all it was ever good for—playing stupid games.

* * *

Jenny turned on her iPad. Clint expected her to start playing the candy-matching game, but instead she opened Facebook.