Altered Genes: Genesis (16 page)

The clerk stared at him.

Does he know?
He felt the sick feeling in his stomach return.

“It’s a library. I’m sure you’ll find something,” the man said in a droll voice and returned to his book.

Simmons nodded weakly and headed to the farthest reaches of the library. He grabbed a random book off a shelf as he passed down an aisle and plopped himself down in one of the tiny study carrels.

The place was dingy and uninviting, he wouldn’t be bothered here—at least not for a while. His mind swirled as he rocked back and forth in his chair.

Raine was wearing gloves. His fingerprints wouldn’t be on the gun. Who would they believe, an outsider or one of their own. The Corporal saw him with the gun. He could tell them about the files but what if Raine got to him first. He had to get off the base, get away and hide until he had time to figure things out.

His throat tightened as he realized just how screwed he was. Frustrated and scared, he slammed the book down onto the desk. The clap of paper hitting the hard surface echoed in the empty library. He glanced at the cover—
Live Green, A handbook on Recycling.

The sound of a siren broke the silence. It was muffled by the building walls and closed windows.

He had an idea but it was time to go.

He rose and walked to the exit. The clerk looked up from his book. “You’ll have to stay here, Sir. That’s the shelter-in-place alert. Something’s going on.”

Simmons forced himself to speak calmly. “No problem. Mother Nature is calling. I’ll be right back.” He pointed at the door and kept talking as he walked out, “Just going to use the restroom.”

The door shut behind him as he walked through it.

He didn’t return.

M
ei wearily pushed
the gurney into the hospital’s loading bay and waited for the soldier to raise his hand. That was the first signal. She knew the drill, had done it countless times over the last week. Hands at her sides to show she wasn’t armed, she stepped back from the gurney and the shiny black plastic body bag that lay on top of it.

She didn’t bother speaking. In the early days of the quarantine, the soldiers were talkative, even friendly. Not anymore. Now they were just scared.

A second soldier garbed head to toe in a protective suit opened the bag and checked it contained a dead body. She handed him a sheet of paper with the patient’s details scrawled on it. He took it and placed it on the body.

He grabbed the zipper with his thick green glove. The
z-z-z-z-z-zip
sound of it closing was the second signal. She pushed the gurney against the wall where it joined another dozen waiting to be loaded into trucks and taken away.

Probably to be incinerated…there had been hundreds of bodies in the last few days.

She had repeated these steps so many times they had become automatic. The first time was the most difficult. The body bag was child-sized and contained the little Latino girl, Blanca. After the girl, it was her brother, the nurse from maternity. There were dozens more and then two days ago, Jason Grant.

Or was it the day before?
She couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter anymore. Her brain was a jumbled mess from lack of sleep and too much death. Death that was everywhere, in the hospital rooms and hallways, in the overflowing morgue, in the countless gurneys she trudged behind.

She grabbed an empty gurney and pushed it out of the loading bay. The once bustling nurses’s station was empty. She deposited the stretcher in the empty hallway below a white hospital phone. The phone was of no use, there wasn’t any service—hadn’t been since shortly after her call with Tony.

I wonder how he’s doing?
She often thought of him, of her dead parents, the people she missed.

“Morning, Doc.”

So wrapped up in her own thoughts, the words didn’t register until she was five steps past the person who had spoken them. She turned to see Charlie Samson standing by the elevators, his leathery old hands on a push-trolley full of linens.

If there was such a thing as a human institution, he was it. He knew everyone and everything at Bellevue. She hadn’t seen him in days, didn’t even know he was still alive.

“Morning, Charlie,” she said apologetically. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“No matter, Doc. I saw you staring at the phone like it was a long-lost friend that left you behind.”

The sadness came in an overwhelming swell of loneliness and the words gushed out. “I was on the phone when we lost service…didn’t get to finish the call.”

I didn’t get to say goodbye.

“Do you want to go?”

His question didn’t make any sense.

“Go?”

He nodded. “Leave the hospital. I can show you a way out.”

She stared at him and he blinked. His lips were pressed together. His head was tilted slightly to the side.

He was serious.

When she didn’t speak, he took a step closer and placed a hand on her shoulder. “There ain’t nothing you can do here. Take that woman you’ve been looking after and go.”

“I can’t do that Charlie, I can’t just leave.” She needed to explain. “The hospital’s under a quarantine. I have patients to look after.”

He squeezed her shoulder and sighed a sad chuckle. “Doc, there ain’t no one left to look after. You’ve been so busy taking care of everyone that you forgot about you.”

He dropped his hand to his side and turned back to the trolley. “Let me know if you change your mind, but don’t wait too long.”

She shoved her hands into the pocket of her scrubs and watched him push the trolley down the hallway. Only when he disappeared, did she return to the second floor and Lucia.

T
he putrid stench
of rotten meat and decomposed vegetables filled his lungs. Simmons nearly vomited as the garbage truck made its way off the base. It had been hours since he climbed into the food recycling bin behind the mess hall, hoping a waste pickup was scheduled and that the truck would be allowed to leave without being searched.

All he could do now was wait until he arrived at his destination, where ever that might be. Fortunately for him, he didn’t have to wait long.

With the screech of brakes and a sudden jolt forward, the vehicle came to an abrupt stop. The truck reversed and its hydraulic system hissed. His heart raced as the compactor plate pushed him backward and crushed him against the garbage.

I’m going to die,
he thought as he tumbled head over heels, pushed along by the giant metal plate as it slowly moved from front to back. The pressure on his chest was so great he could barely breathe. Suddenly, the rear gate opened and he was ejected, half-buried in the pile of waste.

He dug himself out. A massive yellow bulldozer moved back and forth along one side of the pile, its treads clanking against the concrete as its blade pushed the garbage up against a wall.
He half-crawled half-tumbled to the other side of the pile away from the operator’s sightline.

A bunch of old white enamel appliances were stacked haphazardly against the fence that lined the property. He ran towards them, praying he could make it without being seen. The space between a pair of washing machines offered just enough room for him to squeeze into. He crawled in feet first and looked around.

A rusted and broken down chain-link fence surrounded the dump.
It wouldn’t be hard to break through, but where would he go
? He was somewhere outside of the city with no money, covered in stinking garbage. The police and the soldiers on the base would be hunting him. His options were limited.

Over the next few hours, he lay in wait as a handful of garbage trucks arrived and dumped their loads. The sun was still high in the mid-afternoon sky when the weight station attendant emerged from his shack and closed the door. The bulldozer’s operator joined him. Simmons watched the two men leave in a pick-up truck. They locked the gate behind them.

Are they gone for good or just taking a break?

He waited until he couldn’t wait any longer and then scurried from his hiding place to the side of the shack. The door was unlocked. His heart pounded with a mixture of fear and elation as he slipped inside. He grabbed the phone on the graffiti-covered desk and called directory assistance.
Please…please don’t be unlisted.
The automated system gave him the number and he called it.

“
Emma—It’s me, Tony—Professor Simmons. Do you have a car?”

T
he smell
of mildew and wet mortar permeated everything. Mei stooped under the rusted pipe that hung from the ceiling of the tunnel and struggled to keep her footing. With each awkward step, the beam of her flashlight danced on the walls. She looked for the rats she imagined scurried around her feet.

"Another few minutes," the man in front said.

It had been two long days since he had first offered to help her leave. She had turned him down then but now there was no one left. Even the soldiers who ringed the hospital now stood guard in reduced numbers.

”Charlie, how long did you work at Bellevue?” she asked as she brushed away the sweat that beaded on her forehead.

“Long time, Doc.” He stopped and waited at the intersection of two tunnels. The water, or whatever it was, wasn't deep, but she had to stretch to cross it.

"What are you going to do next?"

"Help you get out of here."

"No, I mean after...after we're out of the tunnel."

"I'll go back."

She stopped, frozen in place.

“Go back? I thought you were coming with us.”

”Nothing out there for me, Doc,” he said solemnly. “I’m going back to the hospital—that's my job, my life.”

“What about your family?”

“Ain’t got one and besides—”

She waited for him to finish but he didn’t offer anything more. As his shadow moved further down the tunnel, getting smaller with each step, her sense of guilt grew.

“Come on, Doc. Ain’t nothing for you back there.” His words echoed off the walls.

The sound of footsteps splashing through the water came from behind. She turned to see Lucia emerge from the darkness. The Latino woman brushed past her without a word. Her sunken face covered by the mask she wore.

"We're almost there," he called back to them.

When they caught up to him, he was at the top of a rusted iron ladder in a wider section of the tunnel. The rungs were cemented to the wall and ran to a trapdoor far above.

Using a crowbar, he pried at the lock until it broke. With a grunt, he pushed upwards and the metal door clanged open. A beam of light illuminated a section of the tunnel wall.

“This is Copian’s Territory.” She read the faded graffiti that covered the wall.

"Copians? Haven’t heard that word in a long time," he said as he climbed back down the ladder. "They were a black gang from the 50s."

"Were you in it?"

He laughed, a deep throaty chuckle that made her smile and forget for a minute where she was.

"Do I look that old?" he said playfully, “I was just a boy...They were mainly in Harlem. Don't know what they would have been doing here…Doesn’t matter anyway...you need to get a move on."

"Where are we?"

"South Bellevue Park…a few blocks from the hospital. You'll come out in the park toilets."

"Male or female?"

He laughed again. “Didn't think to check."

The smile on his face gave her pause. All the doubts she had pushed away surged to the surface.

"Go, Doc…go now,” he said before she could change her mind. He motioned towards Lucia. “And take good care of her.”

She nodded and began to climb, blinking away the tears. They dripped down her cheeks and collected on the edge of her mask.

“Don’t stop, keep going. I’m sending her up now.”

The rungs hadn’t been used in years. She tested each one before putting her full weight on it. When she reached the top, she cautiously poked her head out. There was no one around. She climbed out and then reached down to help Lucia.

“Shut it and I'll come up and latch it from this side.”

She peered into the darkness, barely able to see him. “Come with us, Charlie,” she pleaded.

“I can’t,” he said in a broken voice.

“Yes, you can.”

“No, I can’t. I’m sick. Not the bug—cancer. There’s nothing out there for me.”

He made a move toward the ladder and spoke in a stern voice. “Don’t make me climb up there and shut that door myself.”

She fought back the sob that rose in her throat and lifted the heavy steel door with both hands.

“Thank you, Charlie.”

“Go now, Doc.”

She dropped the door. It clanked shut. She sat on the cold concrete waiting for a sign he had changed his mind. When it didn’t come, she wiped the tears away and struggled to her feet.

The light from the midday’s sun shone with an intensity she hadn’t seen or felt in nearly two weeks. It warmed her skin and hurt her eyes. She tore off her mask and then Lucia’s. Her face felt naked without the protective cover. It felt good.

She blinked and looked around.

The park was empty aside from the pigeons that pecked at the ground and nervously cooed when they saw the two women. The city was still, absent of the cacophony of sound that normally filled it at all hours of the day. The faint buzz of traffic in the distance caught her attention.

She took Lucia by the hand and they headed down East 27th street towards 2nd avenue. A taxi was parked by the side of the street, its engine running.

She ran towards it, dragging the other woman behind her. The driver heard the sound of their footsteps and turned in his seat. She watched in bewilderment as his surprise turned to panic. He slammed the car into drive and took off with a squeal.

What the hell?

They continued down 2nd avenue. She was certain they’d find another cab but the streets and sidewalks were empty. The few pedestrians they encountered stared at them and moved to the side as they approached. Everyone wore a surgical mask. She thought about running back to get theirs.

As they passed a deli, she looked at her reflection in the plate glass window. Her scrubs were filthy from the tunnel. Lucia was in the same clothes she had wore when she brought her daughter to the hospital two weeks earlier.

We look like we’re homeless.

“Need a ride?” The voice came from the cabbie who had pulled up beside them and poked his head out the window. A bandana covered his mouth.

“Yes.”

He threw a pair of surgical masks out of the car. "Put those on.”

She picked them up and put hers on first before helping Lucia. Satisfied they had followed his demand, he unlocked the doors and let them in.

She spat out her address. He looked at her in the review mirror as if to assess her trustworthiness. “One hundred…up front.”

"No way, it's a twenty-five dollar ride—including tip," she argued back.

The door locks clicked open. “New rate...catch another cab if you want...It'll be the same."

It was a rip-off, but she had no choice. She showed him her credit card through the plexiglass window that separated them.

He shook his head. "Cash only."

"Do I look like I have a hundred bucks on me?" She gestured to the hospital scrubs.

“This ain’t a charity, Lady.”

They argued back and forth before he finally relented and agreed to accept payment when they reached her apartment, but only after adding another twenty-five to the tab.

“Consider it a payment fee.”

“Okay, but I’m not tipping you," she said defiantly, insisting on getting the last word in. It wasn’t until they had finished arguing that she realized how good it
felt—it felt
normal
.
She hadn’t felt normal in a long time.

As they neared her apartment, they passed a crowd queued up outside the small grocery store just down the street. The owner, a Korean man named Mr. Kang, stood at the door with a rifle, allowing one person in as another exited.

"It's like that everywhere," the cabbie said. “Hope you have food at home."

She didn’t, not much anyway, but it didn’t matter. She was going to Washington. She’d made her decision after reading and re-reading the email from Tony. He was the closest thing she had to family.
It just seemed right to be with family now
.
I hope he thinks the same way.
She glanced at Lucia who stared out the window.
I can’t leave her here.

The cab stopped at the curb in front of her apartment. She yanked at the door handle. It was locked.

"She stays until I get my money," the cabbie said, gesturing at Lucia.

"I'll get the money–"

"She stays.”

His tone left no doubt that it was non-negotiable. She didn't like the idea of leaving Lucia in the car, but her options were limited.

“Okay,” she agreed reluctantly, "but when I get back, you take us to the airport—I’ll give you another hundred. Otherwise, we both stay.”

“One-fifty,” he argued back.

She agreed and raced up the front stairs of the brownstone. She yanked two suitcases out of a closet. She rolled the larger one to her bedroom and tossed it on the bed. She stuffed it full of clothing, paying particular attention to things that would also fit Lucia. When it was full, she rolled it to the door and grabbed the second one.

The scene at the grocery store and the cabbie's words of warning were fresh in her mind as she filled the second bag with what little food there was in her kitchen. When she was finished, she emptied the contents of her medicine cabinet in the small amount of space that remained.

With both bags stuffed to the brim, she went to the bookshelf in the living room and pulled out her dog-eared copy of the Atlas of Human Anatomy. When she graduated from medical school she had cut its middle pages out leaving a nicely formed hiding place in the book. She removed the money and stuffed it into her pocket.

One last thing to do.

She pulled her mobile phone from her pocket and opened the email Tony’s student had sent. She called the phone number in it. Nothing…the phone showed four bars but the call didn’t go through.

I’ll try again from the airport.

On her way out of her apartment, she stopped at the door for one final look. It wasn’t much, but it was home. As the deadbolt clicked shut, she wondered if she would ever be back.

The drive to the airport was tedious and the cabbie's frustration grew as one barricaded street turned into two, and then three. Finally having had enough, he drove around one of the barriers and sped down a side street that housed a mixture of two-story buildings and a smattering of shops.

Mid-way down the street, he slowed to avoid a pile of garbage in the middle of the road. As he drove around it, a bottle struck the rear window of the car with a loud thud.

"Son of a bitch!" he yelled as he twisted the steering wheel and pounded on the gas. The car swerved. She was thrown sideways into Lucia and then Lucia into her.

It happened so quickly, she barely had time to process the handful of men standing beside a broken shop window. She watched as boxes were tossed from inside the store to the group outside. One of the men took a swig from a bottle. He laughed before throwing it at them. It broke harmlessly on the street.

"You okay, Miss?" the cabbie asked when they were safely away. "How about your friend?"

She looked at Lucia, who showed no sign of even being aware of their near miss. “We're both okay, thanks,” she answered.

At the end of the street, a wooden barricade blocked access to the road that would take them to the airport. Cursing, the cab driver slowed and then stopped. He would have to move it himself. There was no other way around.

As he opened his door and placed his foot on the pavement, she spotted two boys on the roof of a nearby building. One of them held a bottle with a burning rag that hung from its neck. He threw it.

"Don’t go out—“ she yelled.

The bottle struck the road in front of them creating a fireball that rained droplets of burning gasoline onto the hood.

The cabbie reacted instinctively and threw the car into gear. It lurched forward, slowly at first, and then faster as his right foot found the gas. When it looked like he’d be dragged from the car, he recovered and yanked his foot inside.

They shot towards the barricade. She grabbed Lucia and ducked. The ugly sound of wood splintering on metal filled the air as they crashed through the barrier. Seconds later the car screeched to a stop and she cautiously raised her head.

"Get out...Get out," the cabbie yelled and glared at her. His eyes were hard and unmoving. "Give me my money and get out!"

"No," she said, defiantly. “We had a deal."

"I don't care about your deal, lady…It ain’t worth it. Pay me and get out. I’ve been driving for thirty years and never had anything like that happen. You’re bad luck.”

Her voice was filled with indignation as she yelled back at him. “I’m bad luck? You're the one driving. I'm just the passenger." They traded insults for five minutes before he gave up and climbed out the car to inspect it for damage.

She watched through the window as he glared and cursed at her every time he discovered a new scratch. When he was satisfied the car was safe to drive, he climbed back in, slammed the door and drove away.

A mile down the road, a pair of National Guard Humvees blocked their passage and herded them away from the airport.

"Jesus...what now?" he muttered as they were forced into a long line of cars waiting to exit the Parkway. They approached a military checkpoint. He slowed at the sight of the soldiers who stood by the side of the road.

“Please stop so I can ask them what’s going on.”

"Lady, are you crazy?...look at those guys, they have guns and don't look very happy."

She watched as one of the soldiers banged the butt of his rifle on the side of the car in front of them. “Okay, just slow down a bit more."

She rolled down her window and the din of yelling and honking horns filled the car.

"Excuse me...excuse me," she shouted to a young soldier who stood by the side of an armored personnel carrier. "What's going on, how do we get to the airport?"

His eyes nervously darted left and right as he stepped towards the car. "Airport's closed, Ma'am...You need to move." He banged once on the roof of the cab with a gloved fist and then stepped back to the safety of the APC. The cabbie didn't need to be told again and drove away from the checkpoint.

Dismayed, she turned in her seat and looked out the back window. The young soldier stepped into the middle of the road. He held out his hand and waved it back and forth, directing an approaching car to halt.