The Plague Years (Book 1): Hell is Empty and All the Devils Are Here (9 page)

“You’re just afraid to fight me!”

“Nobody is fighting anyone!” said Ms. Crowley forcefully. She was the English teacher of the class Amy had just left. She looked like everyone’s favorite grandmother and so the commanding tone in her voice surprised everyone save those who had her in class. She had appeared from her classroom door at Jerry’s elbow. Before anyone could do anything, Jerry pulled a flip knife, opened it, and buried it to the hilt in Ms. Crowley’s solar plexus. She was too surprised to make a sound but just slid to the floor as he withdrew the knife. The hall emptied of students amid screams and running feet.

“Get behind me, Amy,” said Connor as he slipped into a front stance. He still kept his hands at his sides and determinedly open. He was scared of the knife, but still thought he might be able to talk Jerry down or something.

“Jerry, this is serious, but no one is dead yet. It will get much worse for you if we don’t get help for Ms. Crowley.”

“I don’t give a shit! I am going to cut you, cut off your dick, and feed it to the slut behind you!” Then he Slashed with the knife, the blade actually catching for a second in Connor’s clothes as he backed away. Connor couldn’t move as freely as he wanted as he tried to keep himself between Amy and that knife.

“Amy, run! Get someone!” said Connor.

Amy took off and Jerry lunged clumsily after her.

Connor side stepped Jerry and tripped him as he passed. Then Connor shifted so he was again between Jerry and the hallway that Amy had disappeared down.

“Jerry! Stop this!” said Connor. It didn’t help that his voice cracked so it came out in a squeak. He was scared.

“Scared, momma’s boy?” said Jerry with an eerie light in his eye. “You should be, I see clearly now. This knife will make things right. I can cut you, I can cut anyone I want, and they will run, just like Amy. You want to know why we aren’t hanging out, Amy and me? She wouldn’t blow me or nothin’, but you …” and then he Slashed again at Connor’s face. Jerry wasn’t as tall as Connor but he was heavier, stronger, and even sick, he moved really fast.

Connor took the blow on his book bag, the tough canvas cover took most of the blow, but his books spilled out all over the floor. He snap kicked Jerry in the groin and stepped back. Jerry just looked at him and leered at him.

“You kicked me in the balls and it didn’t hurt. Nothing hurts, watch this,” said Jerry as he stuck his knife slowly through his forearm. You could see now that he had cut himself several times. He wasn’t bleeding very badly but it had to hurt and yet he was just standing there, dripping blood onto the floor and smiling. Connor was now very scared. Whatever Jerry was on was seriously bad.

“So come on momma’s boy, use that funky foreign fighting shit. Kick me, punch me, I don’t care. Sooner or later, you will fuck up and I will cut you,” and then Jerry cut down low at Connor’s legs.

Connor countered with a gedan braai sweeping low block and followed it a side thrust kick to the knee. He could hear the bone crack in the knee and it bent at awkward inside angle. Jerry laughed and lunged again.

Connor was desperate to stay outside of the bigger, stronger boy’s grasp. Jerry’s dislocated knee slowed him somewhat. Connor continued dodging and kicking trying to stay as far from the knife as he could. A lucky snap kick caught the hand with the knife and the blade flipped out of Jerry’s and slid under a locker. Just then, Mr. Leiland, the six foot four inch physical education teacher and football coach came up behind Jerry and clamped him in a bear hug. Mr. Leiland had played for the Philadelphia Eagles for three seasons and tipped the scales a shade over 300 lbs. The intervening years had converted some of it to fat but at 42, he could still straight arm a twelve pound sledge hammer.

“Whoa son, simmer down,” said Mr. Leiland in his southwest Texas drawl as he picked Jerry up off the ground and held him there. Jerry screamed in rage and tried to kick him with his good leg but Mr. Leiland was the veteran of many school yard scuffles and kept out of the way of Jerry’s awkward kicks. He also began squeezing Jerry and the screams got quieter and quieter as the air left his lungs without replacement.

Connor looked over at Ms. Crowley who looked very pale but was conscious. The school nurse arrived and was just easing her into a prone position when the police and the ambulance came.

Just as Connor started to relax, two policemen tackled him and took him to the ground. He was startled and surprised as they read him his Miranda Rights.

May 9
th
, Monday, 3:35 pm PDT

Chad was at his desk when his cell phone rang. It was Connor and he sounded very stressed. His boss, Dr. Jurgen was in Chad’s office and they were going over the latest estimates from the European epicenters as he talked and only heard Chad’s side of the conversation.

“Yes Connor, this is dad.”

“Police station!? When?!”

“Are you hurt?”

“What about the other boy?”

“Under arrest? What is going on?”

Hello, hello, Damn cell phone coverage!”

“Sir, this probably not a good time, but I have to go downtown,” said Chad closed the phone and looked at his boss. “My son was involved in some sort of fight at school and he is under arrest. Apparently, the other boy is injured or something.”

“I understand,” said Dr. Jurgen. “But just a minute before you go.”

Dr. Jurgen opened his own phone and selected a number from his contacts, and initiated a call.

“Clinton, this is Dr. Jurgen. Can you break away for the rest of the day? I have something a little out of the ordinary.”

It took Clinton five minutes to get to Chad’s office. Those five minutes dragged out for an eternity while Chad, who desperately needed to get to his son, waited.

“Ah Clinton, thank you for coming so promptly,” said Dr. Jurgen. “Chad’s son has had an issue with the law. I need Chad back in the office with all of his faculties focused on our problem. Could you please go with him to the police station and help him straighten this out? Do whatever legalistic voodoo you have to but get Chad back here tomorrow with no concerns, got it?”

“Of course,” said Clinton. “Dr. Riley said I might be on tap for something like this. I have met your young man Chad, and I find it improbable that he has broken the law in any serious way. We will take my car. It’s a bit more impressive than your old Subaru and in this case, appearances will matter.”

“One moment,” said Dr. Jurgen who handed Chad a new ID. “I was going to give you this after our meeting but this seems appropriate and you might be able to use it to your advantage. You have been recalled temporarily to active duty. So has Colonel Taylor here.”

Chad looked at the ID. It said Captain Strickland, Special Agent OSI. The photo was current.

“Who did this? And ‘Colonel’ Taylor?” Chad said.

“Yes, apparently you have a friend. Colonel Antonopoulos cooked this up with General Buckley. You are going to need access to military data to keep doing your job. This is a neat way to reactivate your clearance. Colonel Antonopoulos said you weren’t to worry, there was no additional commitment and the term of service is at his discretion.”

“But Colonel Taylor?” said Chad who could only picture the corporate counsel as legal eagle.

“Lieutenant colonel actually” said Clinton with a smile. “It will interest to you to know that back in Desert Storm, I was a young major and the Executive Officer of the 1
st
battalion, 505th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 82nd Airborne Division. I retired and went to law school. I get bored easily.”

“OK, sure,” said Chad who was still in shock. “We still do need to get to my son.”

May 9
th
, Monday, 4:05 pm PDT

Chad and Clinton arrived at the police station and headed inside. Chad had spent little time dealing with the police and was unfamiliar with the procedure but Clinton knew just where to go. They walked to the information desk.

“Sergeant, my client is Connor Strickland and I am here to meet with him,” said Clinton in a friendly and confident voice.

“We don’t have any record of …”

“Young man, I have been retained by the boy’s father, Captain Strickland, as his attorney. He called Captain Strickland,” said Clinton gesturing towards Chad, “in my presence. I further took the liberty of calling Lieutenant Davis, who is in your juvenile division. He is in custody. Chad, show him your ‘military ID’.”

Chad flashed his new credentials.

“I’ll have to call …” began the man behind the desk.

“Don’t bother, I will,” said Clinton as he pulled out his cell phone and punched up number he had on quick dial. “Lieutenant Davis, Clinton Taylor here. I have Connor Strickland’s father, Captain Strickland, with me and we are downstairs. We would like to …”

“No we won’t come back later.”

“I don’t care if Homeland Security is involved …”

“Please put Mr. Macklin on the phone. If he says he is too busy, then tell him my next call is to General Buckley.”

There was a short wait.

“Mr. Macklin this is …” said Clinton but apparently he was cut off.

“Actually, it is Colonel Taylor now,” he continued.

“Given five minutes, we can call your bluff on any national security clearance you care to trump up.”

“He hung up on me!” said Clinton with a look of disbelief. “Chad, call your friend Colonel Antonopoulos and tell him …”

“There is no need for that,” said Macklin obviously hurrying around the corner. “I know we don’t get along, but what we are doing is absolutely vital to …”

“Ah, Lieutenant Davis,” said Clinton completely ignoring Macklin. “I would like to see my client.”

“Mr. Macklin here says that he can question a minor suspect without an attorney or parental permission,” said Lieutenant Davis who was following the Homeland Security Agent.

Clinton looked over at Davis and said, “I would like to see my client please. I have been retained by his father and he has yet to give his permission for you to question his son …”

“We don’t need that in this case …” began Macklin.

“I may be just a country lawyer from rural Washington,” said Clinton talking, loudly over Macklin, “but in this state, when a minor is in custody, the parents should be notified. In this case, he was allowed to call his parents but the call was interrupted …”

“We follow proper procedure here despite …” began Davis.

“We needed to question him without …” said Macklin.

Clinton put two fingers in his mouth and whistled loud enough to burst eardrums.

“I will see my client now,” said Clinton into the silence that followed.

“I can’t allow it,” said Macklin recovering first.

“Mr. Macklin,” said Clinton in a low menacing voice, “it will be my happy privilege to sue you, pro bono, for every dime you have once this is over.”

“You can’t sue me, I am working for the Department of Homeland Security,” said Macklin gloating.

“On the contrary,” said Macklin, “I am absolutely certain that the Department of Homeland Security has very clear procedures that you must follow when questioning anybody. As soon as you exceed those procedures, and it is my opinion that you have, I can and will sue you personally, not the Department. I may not win, but you will be in court until you retire or I die. Your department may hire counsel for you, but they might just throw you under the bus and call you a rogue operator. It’s been done before. Do you want to try me?”

The silence stretched out. You could almost hear Macklin sweating. Clinton never blinked and his cold blue eyes never left Macklin’s.

“Nobody is suing anybody,” said Davis breaking the spell. “As I was trying to say before I was so rudely interrupted, we follow proper procedures here despite what some people would want.”

Davis glared for a moment at Macklin and then continued, “If I read this correctly, Captain Strickland, your son was arrested as part of the standard response to an altercation with a deadly weapon. Both parties are always arrested. He was read his Miranda Rights and offered a phone call which I understand he made to you. Mr. Macklin then took the phone from your son before the call was complete and we were discussing ‘proper procedure’ when you arrived. Your son is unharmed and he has not been questioned.”

“Thank you Tom,” said Clinton looking gratefully at Captain Davis. “I know you run a good shop. I will see my client now.”

Lieutenant Davis led them to the holding area. Before they got there, they could hear someone shouting. They weren’t using any words, just a primal scream followed by ragged breathing and then more screaming. There were a number of cells in the room they entered. To Chad’s relief, his son Connor was in the nearest one. His nose had been bloodied and poorly cleaned up and there was blood on his shirt but he looked OK. He smiled when he saw his dad.

In the next cell was a young man in a straightjacket and he was the one screaming. Chad was alarmed when he saw the blood seeping through the jacket. His skin was pale and he was sweating profusely.

“Connor, are you OK?” asked Chad nervously as he got close. There was blood on his shirt and his lip looked somewhat swollen.

“Yeah, getting arrested hurt more than the fight,” said Connor ruefully.

Just then an ear piercing scream came from the next cell. Two EMT’s were trying unsuccessfully to treat the young man in the straightjacket.

“That’s Jerry Kirkland,” said Connor answering one of his dad’s unasked questions.

“Is he always like that?” asked Chad.

“He’s a stoner and a bit of a bully but not like that.”

There was a crash as Jerry had apparently used his legs to push himself up against the bars and then had lunged at the EMTs, attempting to bite them as he went down. Something clicked in Chad’s mind.

“Get out of the cell!” shouted Chad.

The EMT’s looked at him with alarm and confusion.

“Clinton, this guy has it. He has AH10N3.”

“Now we can’t be sure …” began Macklin who had trailed along.

“You bastard!” shouted Chad at Macklin. “Were you born this dumb or did you have to study?! How did you know the boys were here? There is blood and all sorts of other bodily fluids all over the floor and his straight jacket is soaked. He is a huge infection risk!”

  “We have to keep this quiet!” shouted Macklin as he grabbed for Chad’s shirt. Chad grabbed Macklin’s index finger and twisted it in a direction it was not meant to go. Macklin howled and then with an ugly smile, tried to punch Chad. Chad easily blocked the punch and stepped past the Homeland Security Agent placing his foot behind Macklin’s and then just pushed with his hand in the middle of Macklin’s chest. Macklin’s smile turned to alarm as he stumbled back. Chad grabbed Macklin’s throat and jacket and slammed him hard against the concrete wall opposite the cells.

“I should just toss you in there with him! You knew he was infected didn’t you? You’ve got some sort of deal to be called when anyone comes in with symptoms don’t you? Don’t you see that you are risking everyone else’s life here?”

Chad tossed him aside and looked at Lieutenant Davis.

“Davis or whatever your name is, this kid is infected with AH10N3. The disease is one hundred percent fatal. Please, clear this place out and boil it. I can’t guarantee that there haven’t been any secondary infections even with those precautions.”

“Macklin said it could only be transmitted by bodily fluids, we were using standard AIDS protocols …”

“You should be beginning to realize that Macklin is a horse’s ass!” said Chad hotly. “Current infection vectors include skin to skin contact and contact with surfaces previously touched by infected individual’s bodily fluids which appears to be most of that cell. I should know, I am the guy on TV, the one they call the ‘Dead Head’ remember?”

“Lieutenant Davis, I want that man arrested for …” began Macklin.

“Mr. Macklin, I would be quiet were I you,” said Davis evenly. “Based on your actions and if what Captain Strickland says is true, I can think of half a dozen charges to bring you up on. Then there is the little matter of assaulting a federal officer if I heard you correctly referred to as Captain Strickland? It’s out of my jurisdiction but I would happily be a witness in such a situation.”

Davis turned away from Macklin, effectively dismissing him and spoke to Chad’s lawyer.

“Clinton, I seem to remember this gentleman on TV, is this true?”

“Well, he is the analyst whose work initiated the current travel restrictions,” said Clinton blandly, “but far be it from me to tell you what to do in your shop.”

“Right, Mr. Macklin, please wait in my office, I am not finished with you,” said Davis

“And I’m not through with you either Strickland!” said Macklin and he was gone before Chad could frame a reply.

Davis turned to the EMTs who were now out of the cell watching events unfold. “Gentlemen, I suspect this is above your pay grade. Perhaps you should call it in?”

One of the EMTs began fumbling with his radio.

Then Davis looked over at the jailer who had come from behind his desk with a Taser.

“Sam, put that away and get some help down here. We need to start moving the prisoners over to county. Follow the new infection protocol; strip them all down and put them in coveralls. Then boil everything like Dr. Strickland says.”

He then turned to Chad.

“Dr. Strickland, I am sorry, but I still have to question your son. You and Clinton are welcome to be present but I must ask that only your son and Clinton be allowed to speak.”