Jake Cooper sat in his
recliner with a soreness deep in his bones. He’d ran a jackhammer all day,
something he had not done in years. As the owner of a small general contracting firm he often filled in – and not without some relish – when one of his essential
workers failed to show. He was a man who wore many hats. But, today he’d led a
wrecking crew. It was fun, but he was feeling it. He was not twenty years old
anymore, that was painfully obvious.
Then, as he was clicking
through the channels, something caught his eye. A news report. The flu was
spreading.
The first reports, days
ago, had said that it was just another in a string of pneumonia-type diseases. SARS,
avian flu, H1N1. Sensationalized news reports and blathering government
officials had calloused most of the country to any sense of urgency in
preparations. Everyone in the world had seen a number of diseases touted as
“the next super plague” in the past few years. None of them had spread very
much, and those that had were responsible for only a few deaths, despite all
the media hype.
But now he sat stunned as
the first clear CNN reports were coming out of India. Hundreds dead. Thousands
in the hospital. The day before, Nepal, and the day before that Bangladesh. It
was spreading.
He sat upright and leaned
forward to listen. The journalist confirmed that this was worse than had been previously
reported. It was a hemorrhagic fever, a slow burning type that began with
flu-like symptoms. Over the course of several days it would turn the victim’s
body upon itself through something called a cytokine storm. The hosts own
immune system attacked healthy cells until the victim became so weak he was unable
to care of himself. The process was nasty, something called septic shock
syndrome: hemorrhaging, multisystem organ failure, and cellular death. Once bedridden,
the victim would then succumb to the final stage – drowning in their own blood
and phlegm.
It was the killer plague
the world had been expecting.
He clicked the TV off and
sat in the dark silence of his home.
His wife and kids had long
since gone to bed, but his mild insomnia had kept him up again. It was three in
the morning. He took a drink of ice water and exhaled slowly.
He knew how the scenario
would play out; he’d been trained on FEMA and CDC response when he was an
emergency room manager. He knew what the TV people had said. By conservative
estimates the airliners coming out of India in the past few days had carried
the disease worldwide within hours. In the next few days, perhaps hours, reports
would surface about cases cropping up everywhere. America already had it, that much
was certain. There were probably people carrying the disease in a couple of dozen
of U.S. cities right now, spreading it by coughing and shaking hands, touching
doorknobs, shopping carts, you name it.
He started to panic and
considered briefly that he should wake his family and drive madly into the
night. He could make it to his hunting cabin in the Ozarks. It was very remote,
far off the beaten path. There’d be plenty of fish in the lake and game in the
nearby woods. He could live there for months, maybe years. He’d chop wood for
the cabin’s little potbellied stove, and it might even be a good thing, the
forced isolation in the woods, time together to get to know each other again .
. . except, they’d never make it. He took another drink of water.
By the time they’d driven
to the cabin everyone in the family would be exposed. He’d have to fuel up the Suburban
with gas. They’d have to buy food, clothing, equipment, and carry it with them.
He’d risk infection each time. There wasn’t enough room in the SUV for his
whole family and all the stuff they’d need to survive the long stay in the
cabin.
He stood and gathered his
wallet and keys and walked through the house and down to the basement. Downstairs
he rummaged around until he found the dust masks left over from a painting
project. He climbed the stairs and went back to the kitchen and found the
medical kit and a single pair of latex gloves. Back in his den he retrieved a revolver
from the gun cabinet and slipped it into his jacket pocket.
The government would be no
help either. At first sniff the government would quarantine, at the borders and
probably in areas close to international airports, but this would be too slow.
And so as the outbreak gathered momentum, more and more of the country would be
subjected to a “shelter-in-place” plan, wherein citizens we would be ordered to
stay in their homes or risk arrest and relocation. Previous warnings had
mentioned lengthy quarantines, from weeks to months if necessary.
The disease, he knew, was
not the only threat looming on the horizon. People were going to go crazy. The
human problem was just as deadly as the disease. There’d be religious crazies
in the street, gangs poaching on the weak, and then the mentally ill, unable to
handle this one last blow, would simply fall apart. No one could predict how a
large population would react under stress. He was taking no chances.
Like many of his neighbors,
Jake had stockpiled some food for the heavy snow and ice storms, but there wasn’t
enough food in the house for such lengthy quarantines. In fact, he knew there
wasn’t enough food in the whole United States for that type of scenario.
Most retailers “ran lean”
on stock, with no more than three to five days’ worth of supplies on hand. He’d
seen the drained shelves after just the mere prediction of severe weather.
Large retailers would have more in regional warehouses, of course, perhaps a
thirty day supply at most. But these would have to be distributed, and riots
would be likely before that could occur. When dawn came and the news spread
people all over the city would panic and hit the stores, just as he was now,
and by the next day there wouldn’t be a single crumb remaining for sale
anywhere in the country.
He hopped into his SUV and
headed down the street and out of his neighborhood. They way he figured it, he
had one chance.
He made his first stop at
the nearest all-night big box supermarket. He donned his mask and gloves, and
strode in fast, pushing one flatbed cart and pulling another. It was mostly deserted.
Jake relaxed a little. By sheer dumb luck his insomnia had given him an
advantage.
The bored cashier smiled
weakly and went back to her romance novel. She didn’t seem to notice his mask
or bright blue gloves. He smiled and laughed to himself. She’d probably seen
far stranger things while working the late shift.
He rushed straight to the
staples isle. To the comforting tunes of Musak he loaded the first cart with
all the rice, dry beans, and powdered milk they had. He switched, pulling the
monstrous weight of the full cart, and pushing the lighter one. He next found
the canned foods and loaded the second empty cart with fruit– pineapple, pears,
peaches – plus all the Spam he could find. Next he loaded up on bags of sugar
and salt and cases of vegetable oil. In essence, on the fly, he was creating
for his family a simple yet filling ration of the type issued by the United
Nations during mass hunger emergencies. He also grabbed several large bottles
of vitamins. On his way to the checker he made one other purchase: several bottles
of spray bleach.
He grunted as he moved the
carts to the checkout line.
“It’s for our soup
kitchen,” he offered. He pointed to the mask and held up his hands. “I’m
allergic.”
The elderly woman at the
register didn’t seem to notice. She just smiled. “That’s so sweet that you take
care of the poor. Not enough people care like this these days.” She motioned at
a stack of coupon papers. “If you will hand me that sale paper, I can get you a
discount on some of this.”
Jake shook his head no. She
shrugged and went back to checking, but never raised an eyebrow.
Just as she finished the
last item and rang up the sale, the power went off. The store was pitch dark,
and quiet as a tomb. Then the emergency lighting kicked on and bathed the whole
building in a dim aura.
They looked at each other,
and Jake produced his check book, filled it out, and handed the check to her.
“Oh, dear. What a night,”
she said looking around. “I hope my cats are okay.”
“Ma’am, you take care,” he
said. He walked off pushing the carts, and then stopped and walked back as a
rotund office manager emerged with a flashlight.
“Lucille, you okay?” he
asked with barbecue sauce on his chin.
“Oh, yes, Harold, I’m fine.
I was just checking out this last customer here.”
“Alright then. You can pack
up and go home. I’m going to shut the store down in a minute.” He waddled off,
back to his pork ribs no doubt, Jake thought.
“You’re Lucille, right?”
Jake asked.
She nodded. In the dim
light of the store he could see that in days long ago she’d been a real looker.
High cheek bones, slight frame, a bright, intelligent gleam in her eyes. She
was waiting for him to speak, and listening intently.
“Lucille, you need to get
everything you can right now and get home. Lock the doors and don’t let anyone
in. There’s some bad stuff coming down the pike.”
Lucille smiled and said
“Mr. Cooper, if what I think is happening is happening, there’s nothing you or
I can do about it.”
She’d remembered Jake’s name
from the check, and she had an inkling of what might be happening. Jake nodded
in approval.
“Just the same Lucille, you
need to get out of here. There’s going to be a very mean crowd coming in here shortly,
whether the doors are locked or not.”
Lucille nodded and simply
said “Thank you” in a soft voice as she pulled the cash drawer from the
register.
Jake managed, by pulling
both carts and walking backward, to make it to the Suburban. Before he started
unloading the carts, he got out the bleach and disinfected his hands.
He was sweating a little after
loading the truck, but he felt better. He had a purpose now, a plan. He guessed
the food would last his family quite some time, maybe weeks. Long enough,
perhaps, to make it through whatever might happen.
He quickly drove to the
next supermarket, and the next, until when he finally returned home, his vehicle
was straining under the load, every amount of space packed with
food and medicines, even ammunition for his guns.
He worked fast and had the
whole lot unloaded on the garage floor by the time the first rays of the sun
were thinning the darkness from the skies. Before he shut the garage door he
could feel something. Maybe it was his imagination, but he could feel a tension
in the air. He noticed traffic was picking up earlier than normal and the main
streets were already looking busy. He suspected that by noon it would be complete
pandemonium.
Thank you for reading. If you will indulge me, I ask a favor or two. Please Like my page using the Like button at the upper left. Follow me on Twitter at @liamkfisher. I would also love to hear your comments, if you are in a chatty mood. Please post them below. Thanks!
interesting read and unfortunately not much of a stretch of the imagination required to visualize this as a real situation
ReplyDeleteYes, sadly, I think we underestimate the destructive capability of a biological based terror attack.
DeleteEnjoyed this very much. This genre of writing is one of my favourites. Unlike the previous comment, I found the detail to be excellent, and not overly done. I would definitely recommend this read.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Carrie-Anne. We are working bringing it into publication. We'll keep you posted!
DeleteGood so far! Excited to read what happens next. Unfortunately this scenario is so possible and most people have no clue what to do. All we can do is prepare!
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteIm already imagining the dreaded road to the ozarks, the pandemonium, the fleeting desire to escape the twisted hell of reality that's about to grip society as known. I enjoyed this read very much and look forward to more. Nice work.
ReplyDeleteVery Nice read indeed. Im not much of a reader but this does put you on the edge as to 'What happens Next?'. Thanks for the post!
ReplyDeletestuff like this is why i already have a years supply of food stored and trying to get more. i think the world is going to hell in a handbasket real soon. danno the fish
ReplyDeleteMakes me glad I have some food stored. LOL But seriously, good writing. You totally have me hooked.
ReplyDeleteGreat job. Looking forward to more.
ReplyDeleteNot a stretch at all, only surprised we haven't seen this scenario already. Excellent writing btw, very realistic and way too believable.
ReplyDelete