Vaccination (23 page)

“…reports are coming in from Africa that infected people are reportedly falling into deep comas, then reviving and getting up.  They are allegedly attacking anyone around them, except for other victims.  We have heard reports of horrific violence, and the entire continent seems to be on the verge of collapse.  For exclusive videos and uploads, please visit our website for the latest information.”

I turned the radio off as I sped down the back roads to the last gun shop I wanted to visit. I felt an almost overwhelming urge to get back home as quickly as possible.  Every warning bell I had, was clanging as loudly as possible that if I did not take this seriously, there would be no second chance.

I stopped at the gun shop, which happened to be on my route home.  It was more crowded than the others were, and several people were trying to buy more guns than they had money for.  One guy, who came in to sell his gun, received four offers from other customers.  I watched as two men nearly got into a fight over an AR that one wanted to see, and others wanted to buy, right then.  Everything was selling, from .22 pistols to big 7mm Magnum rifles.  Ammo was flying off the shelves, and I was relieved when I saw that no one had picked up the 30 Carbine ammo yet.  Pays to have an unusual caliber gun, I thought.

I signaled the man behind the counter who was waiting for a customer to make up his mind on shotguns.

“Can I help you?”  He asked.  I noticed he was wearing a .45 on his hip.  Prudent, I thought.

“I need to get some .30 carbine ammo,” I said.

“Right.  You want it by the box, or case?”  He asked, reaching behind him.

I was surprised. “You have cases?”

“Sure thing.  Cheaper to buy a case than to sell it piecemeal, but we just got an order in yesterday, so if you want a whole case, I’ll sell it to you discounted.  Bigger discount if you pay cash.”

“Deal,” I said, reaching for my checkbook.  I kept emergency money there and something told me this was definitely an emergency.

“Let me go get it.”  He walked off to a back room that had a large padlock on it.  As the door opened, I could see stacks of varied ammo in a wide range of calibers.  Bet a lot of people would like to see that room, I thought.

As I finally headed home, I thought about what I had seen and heard.  I thought about what I had in the trunk and hoped to God that I was wrong.  If I was, I was going to have a hell of a shooting day at the range, the next time I got out.  If not, well, I did what I could to protect my family.  I just wish I had a clue as to what I was protecting against.  If the virus was airborne, I could do little.  If it was spread by contact, that was something else.

A raindrop hit my windshield and I looked at the darkening sky.  Storm.  Great.  Maybe I’ll get home before it hits. With any luck, it’ll all blow over.

3

“…in related news, the Enillo Virus has claimed millions of lives worldwide, and scattered reports of victims returning from the comatose state and attacking their caregivers are on the rise.  In Africa, a veritable army of infected people is slowly marching their way across the continent, ravaging every village and city they come across.  Their numbers seem to swell from each attack, and nations across the globe are scrambling to counter what many have called the worst crisis mankind has ever faced. Infected individuals seemed to be impervious to pain, or even what some might consider, debilitating injuries.  New reports coming in from New York and Chicago and Los Angeles, indicate a heavy population of infected individuals.  Official reports are debunking the somewhat popular notion that the dead have come back to life.  YouTube videos abound on the Internet and officials warn self-styled “Zombie Hunters” that they will be prosecuted within the fullest extent of the law. Anyone caught looting will also be prosecuted.  Individuals are urged to stay in their homes and avoid all contact with infected individuals. They are to be considered extremely dangerous. If a loved one or family member exhibits any symptoms of the virus, they are to be isolated immediately, and the family is to place a white cloth on their mailboxes to alert emergency personnel to the presence of another victim.”

I switched off the television and looked out my front window.  I could see three houses with white towels on their mailboxes, and I wondered how many more, will there be?  Will there come a time when all the houses have white flags on them?  If your house doesn’t have a white flag, will the officials think you’re immune and want to take you away for testing?  Who knew?

The last week was a blur.  I went to work and tried to keep things as normal as I could, but the kids were scared.  Some were talking about how their mom, dad, or sister was sick, and they didn’t know what to do.  Many of my students were absent, their parents taking them to relatives in Mexico or to other states, trying to get away from the large population center of Chicago.  I worried about my brother, who lived downtown with his family, but I spoke with him the other day and he seemed fine.  I called my parents in Virginia, but was only able to leave a message.  Their house was fairly isolated, and my father was an ex-marine, so I figured they would be all right.

Two days ago, the governor of the state called for a suspension of attendance of public schools, the thought being that if a student were infected, he could easily spread it to many families due to the close nature of classrooms. For once, the governor actually had a decent idea.  So, for the last two days I have been busy reloading ammunition, cleaning my guns, and stocking up on foodstuffs. Pickings were getting a little slim at the grocery store, as people began to see the wisdom of hunkering down and waiting out the storm.

I was very grateful Ellie had managed to get to the store before the real storm of public awareness hit, and I managed to make a few runs myself.  I had gone to the bank and withdrawn as much as I could; figuring to replace it should the worst pass.  I didn’t want to be caught up short without cash, and yesterday they announced on the news that credit cards are going to be suspended, to try to prevent people from going overboard and end up losing everything when the crisis passed. I bought everything I could think of, and my basement was pretty well stocked. I was going to feel like a class A fool if this thing blew over quickly, but the little voice in the back of my head said we were in for a rough ride.

Ellie was working today, and since I was home, I was doing the house thing with Jacob.  He was such a little joy to have around. All smiles and not a worry in the world.  His eyes, the little, “chocolate browns,” as Ellie liked to call them, just sparkled and when he looked at you, it was if he was saying “I trust you with my world.” More than once, I found myself just looking at him for a long time, wondering how in the hell I got so lucky.

Jake was playing in the living room when I got a call from Ellie.

“John?”

“Yeah, babe.  What’s up?”  I moved over to the kitchen table so I could keep an eye on our little one.  He couldn’t crawl yet, but he was pretty good at a military crawl and rolling got him into trouble more times than not.

“Not a whole lot.  We’ve been seeing a lot of patients today, and I might be later than usual.” Ellie sounded nervous. 

“All right, I’ll feed Jake and get him bathed.”  I tried to sound nonchalant, but inwardly my concern just skyrocketed.

“Thanks.  And John?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“Are your toys loaded?” Ellie asked.

That sent my concern into the stratosphere.  Ellie never asked about my guns, letting me have my little hobby as long as I didn’t advertise it, and kept my guns in a safe away from Jake. “Not yet, why?” I asked.

“You might want to think about having them handy,” Ellie said cryptically.

“Ellie, what is going on?” I said, more forcefully than I intended.

“John, just do it.  Please.  There’s more to this virus than people have been told,” Ellie said.  “I gotta go, they’re paging me to the O.R.  Love you!”

“Love you, too,” I said, but the line had already cut out.

I wondered what the hell was going on, but I didn’t question Ellie.  She had sources of information that did not have anything to do with the media.  Such as, the cops that brought the victims in, to the EMT’s that treated them at the scene, to the victims themselves.  Ellie often knew days before anyone else about things that were happening.  She knew about a tuberculosis outbreak three days before the news reported it.  However, in all our years together, she had never told me to load my guns and have them handy.  I decided that maybe this event was prickling my senses

I went down to the basement, after putting Jake in the Pack ‘n Play and putting on a baby video for him.  Gotta love the electronic baby-sitter.  I went down to my secret room, an area that was an expanded crawl space under the garage.  It was large enough to stand in, and it was there that I had my gun safe and reloading equipment, and various other supplies and things. A casual glance would never reveal that there was anything there at all.  Since no one ever expected there to be any usable space under a garage, if at all, it was the perfect hiding place.  So I went down there and surveyed what I had and what I might need. 

I had a modest firearm collection, around ten handguns and rifles.  I didn’t have any theme to my collection, just bought what I wanted at the time, selling it when I wanted something else.  I also had a few guns that I inherited from my Grandfather, so that added a bit.  I had played at Cowboy Action Shooting for a while, owning a couple of six-guns, a lever-gun, and a pump shotgun.  After that, I got into IDPA, which was a lot less equipment oriented, and owned a Springfield XD in .40 and a SIG P226 in .40 caliber as well.   I reloaded for a number of calibers, and lately had been reloading for .40 S&W.  On the rifle front, I had an old Enfield No4 MkI, and a couple of .22’s.  I had an Auto-Ordnance M1 Carbine replica that I had recently purchased; this was the one, which I had stocked up on ammo for.  I had three additional 15-round magazines and two 30-round magazines for the little carbine, so that gave me 105 rounds without needing to reload a single mag.  Thanks to the case and extra boxes I bought, I had 2000 rounds of ammo for the M1.

I took the two semi-auto pistols and grabbed all the extra magazines I owned for each.  I grabbed four boxes of ammo and put all of this in a little backpack I had.  I put all the magazines for the carbine in the bag, and put in three boxes of ammo for it.  I put a box of .22 ammo in the bag and grabbed the carbine and one of the .22 rifles. At the last minute, I threw in a box of .380 ammo and the extra clip for the Walther PPK.

Slinging the now very heavy backpack on my shoulder, I ran upstairs.  I checked on Jake and went into the office.  I needed to think about what I was doing and where would be the best placement for armament.  My IDPA days were serving me well at this point.  I was looking at my home with new eyes.  Where were the weaknesses, where were the bottlenecks?  Where was the best place to store a gun for easy access?  Do I shore up the windows or do I block the stairwells?  If I were determined to get in, what would stop me?

I sat at the desk and decided that the best way to ensure a forceful response to a crisis was to be armed at all times.  I loaded my SIG and put on my competition holster.  I placed spare magazines in the kitchen and in the front room for the gun.  I went back and forth, as to what rifle I wanted on the ground floor, and decided on the .22, figuring that if things got bad on the ground floor, I wanted superior firepower in my back up locations, which were my basement and my bedroom.  The basement had the shotguns and the Enfield, so anything coming after me down there was going to earn it.  I loaded the magazines for the M1Carbine and inserted a 30-round clip into the gun.  Best to start with a hail of withering fire, as my dad used to say.  I loaded the .22 next, having only two magazines for it, but each magazine held 25 rounds, so I did not feel under gunned.  The .22 rifle I had was a GSG-5, an MP5-looking .22.  Mostly for plinking, but as I loaded the hollow points, I found myself hoping it would be enough.  I placed the rifle on the top shelf of the pantry, figuring it was the most central location and gave me access to the hallway and basement stairs if needed. 

I took the XD and carbine and brought those upstairs, placing the pistol on a shelf in the hallway linen closet.  The door of the linen closet swung outward, effectively blocking the hallway if needed, but only as a temporary measure while the pistol was retrieved. I placed the two extra magazines on the dresser near the door of my bedroom and two more in the master bathroom; the final stand, if it came to it.  I prayed it never did, but I did the best I could think of. 

I went back downstairs and looked at my doors and windows.  If I had to hold up here, how would I block them?  What would I use?  I figured the first floor being brick was very comforting, and I needed to think of some way to board up my windows and doors. I needed to go to the home improvement store. 

I packed up Jacob and started out to the store.  Immediately leaving my driveway, I felt something was wrong.  It was in the air, something out of kilter with the world.  It didn’t feel bad or scary, but my senses were on alert.  Maybe I was just reacting to what Ellie had told me, but as I drove through my neighborhood, I began to see signs that things were not right.  Doors to some homes were open, and there was a large stain on the porch of another home, as if something had been killed there.  I saw several families packing as if to leave on vacation, putting as much in their cars as they dared.  In each case, the mailbox had a white flag on it. Were they taking their sick with them?  I couldn’t tell, and I really didn’t want to stop and ask.  One house had the garage door wide open, belongings scattered around, and the door to the house open, as if they just ran in the middle of packing up the car. I wondered if the city was the same way.   If this virus was that bad, was anywhere safe?  Were these people just running to bigger problems? 

I thought about these things as I made my way to the home improvement store.  There were a lot of cars on the road, and many of the ones I saw had a lot of belongings in them.

Turning onto the major road, I was stunned at the amount of traffic.  At this time of day, there should not have been the hundreds of cars I saw.  I joined the southbound lane and noticed that the northbound lane was heading south as well.  Everyone was heading south.  I began to wonder what the hell had happened to the city, and whether or not my brother was safe. Every business along the road was closed, and I seriously doubted I was going to find any store open. As I slowly passed a parking lot, I saw two men arguing over a water jug, and just as they passed out of my line of sight, I saw one man take a swing at the other man’s head.  People were going nuts.

I pulled off the main road into the drive of the home improvement store, and I immediately saw it was the wrong thing to do.  The store was a madhouse, with people rushing in and rushing out, grabbing supplies from each other and racing off without tying down their loads.  There was no way I was bringing Jacob into that mess, even being armed as I was.  I had forgotten to take off my gun when I went out, so my SIG was still with me, under my coat.  I pulled out of the parking lot, narrowly missing an elderly woman rushing out with what looked like fifty feet of heavy chain.  Weird.

I headed west to a street that would take me to a road back north, and it was packed as well.  It took me twenty-five minutes to go two miles, and everyone was on edge.  I decided to get off the main road, head through the subdivisions, and get home that way.  I wound my way through the first subdivision, noting once again the signs of hurried leaving.  Jake was starting to act up, not liking being in his car seat for any length of time.  I reached around, trying to find his binky, and managed to poke him in the eye while I searched.  Naturally, he hated that, and let me know it.  Good set of lungs on that little guy.  I looked back and found his binky between his legs, so I grabbed it and placed it in his mouth.

WHAM!  The car jerked and slid sideways, and I fought to control the vehicle as I brought it to a stop.  I checked my rear view mirror and saw a body lying in the road.  Oh God. Oh God, No, no, no, no, no…not good at all.  I got out of the car and ran back to the body, a middle-aged man who was lying on his face in the street.  “Help!” I yelled, hoping someone in the houses would hear me.  “Somebody call 911!”  I yelled to the unresponsive houses.  I kneeled down and turned the man over, hoping he was still alive.  I immediately stepped back, as the man had a gaping hole where his throat used to be.  His shirt was covered in dried blood, and his face had dried blood all around the mouth.  His eyes were closed, as if he was sleeping, and his left leg looked broken at the ankle.  What the hell was this? Did I run over a dead body in the road?  If I had, how the hell could he be there without any police or ambulance? I started to walk back to the car, and I saw another man approaching the vehicle from the passenger side.  I shouted at him.