The Dead Don't Bleed: Part 1, The Outbreak (5 page)

"Carl, are you still with us?" Dr. Woods asked.

Clearing his throat and doing his best to sound
as professional as possible he replied, "Yes doctor, I am still here. I should also report that it looks like the amount of material shooting from the mine is starting to dissipate, in the last few minutes the volume of material has decreased by at least half and it seems to be growing smaller by the minute. I think that it is starting to run out of steam."

"Yes, very good, we are seeing the same thing with satellite imagery. Carl, how are you feeling at this point?" Dr. Woods asked.

He knew that was coming, he felt like the human guinea pig in some bizarre experiment. He just wished this doctor would be straight up with him about what was going on.

"Still the same, but, I could use a bathroom break pretty soon, my stomach is still upset." He thought that would get the point across without having to get into the specific details that he was about to shit his pants.

"That’s fine Carl, and actually I am going to recommend that you turn around right now and make your way back to Browns Mills. There is a clinic as well as several doctors’ offices in town where you can go. They will be able to give you something to help with your fever and settle your stomach. It is important that you head straight back to Browns Mills until we have this thing totally contained, do you understand?"

The tone in the
doctor’s voice had turned from the carrying and worried kind to an authoritative and demanding one. Carl understood loud and clear the meaning of 'contained'. There was going to be some type of quarantine in place waiting for him in Browns Mills. That meant locked down and restricted to a bed while they ran test after test on him, his personal well-being not being their primary concern. He had a feeling that the last thing he needed was to be was involved in whatever form of containment this doctor had in mind. He had seen movies where the government dealt with uncontrolled illnesses by bombing towns full of sick people in the name of containment. He wasn't about to test those theories to see if they applied in real life.

"Ok doctor, if you think that best. I am turning around now and should be there in a few minutes. Is there anything else you will need from me? The charge on my phone is running low and I will need to shut it down and recharge it for a while."

"No, you've done a wonderful job so far, I plan on giving the director of your agency a report on how helpful you have been during this crisis. Just get to a doctor in Browns Mills and you will be fine. Thanks for all your help." Carl could almost hear the mad scientist cackle that he thought should follow such statements.

"Thank you doctor, I will head right to a
doctor’s office," Carl replied.

With that
, the line clicked off and Carl shut down the power to the phone. It still had more than three quarters of a charge left but he remembered when they first called him they were able to tell in a few seconds exactly where he was located from the transponder built into the government issued phone. Since he had no intention of going anywhere near Browns Mills again he didn't want that same transponder giving away his location. He flipped his GPS back on and searched for the quickest route to Camden, New Jersey. He had several friends that lived there and he also knew of a large community hospital where he should be able to sneak in and out for a prescription or two without attracting a lot of attention. Any closer to the scene here and he was reasonably sure his presence at a hospital would be noted as related to this event. He figured that Camden was far enough outside of the affected area that showing up in an emergency room sick like he was would not be suspicious. His decision made he also plotted the closest destination along his route that might have a public restroom he could use. That necessity was quickly becoming his number one priority as he felt his stomach knotting up and he was forced to clench his ass cheeks tightly together to prevent any possible accidental leakage.

#

The drive back to his Virginia apartment after the solitude of several days alone in the woods with just his thoughts and a few wild animals to keep him company was starting to tempt him to turn back around and head straight back. The closer he got to the Washington, DC corridor the more congested the roads became. Impatient drivers would whip in and out of traffic crossing inches in front of his bumper
. It just reminded him of how little he missed the grind of civilian life. For a distraction he turned the radio on and tuned it into a DC classic rock station. The DJ was just finishing some tirade about a local politician who was lobbying for more tax increases while also working hard to limit funding for public work projects that would help improve roads and bridges throughout Northern Virginia. Garrett was only half listening to the political dribble, the radio was just background noise for him to drown out the growing cacophony of honking horns, revving engines and the occasional blasting bass of ghetto music from young hipsters trying to look cool in their pimped out rides. He kept thinking about his pending interview the following day, he wasn't exactly excited to return to the civilian work force after so many years of regulated military life. The job itself didn't sound very difficult and he was very adept at picking things up with only little instruction. What really bothered him was the life style, a regulated lunch hour, board room meetings, water cooler gossip and dealing in general with civilians. Soldiers speak a language that is completely different than their civilian counterparts, their language is laced with acronyms and foul language, it was something burned into their very being starting in basic training. He knew it was going to be a challenge for him to keep his language in check while at the same time relearning some rudimentary social skills to enable him to fit in with an office environment. He was going to have to learn patience with people and above all he needed to constantly remind himself to keep his temper in check. When a soldier under his charge stepped out of line it was a natural and ingrained reaction to tear him up and down until he shook with fear and Garrett was confident the same mistake would never be repeated. Threatening a colleague in an office setting with having their head torn off while he shit down their neck would probably not result in the same outcome.

As he merged onto Interstate 95 at the Virginia/Maryland border
, he was happy to see that traffic was flowing at a steady pace close to the maximum speed limit. By timing his return to put him along this stretch just after the lunch hour rush and well before end of the work day grid lock he was now facing a smooth ride of only twenty five more minutes of drive time until he was home. The radio was still spitting out mid-day news stories and he had yet to hear a single song from the radio station that advertised hours of uninterrupted classic rock. An announcement of a breaking news story caught his attention and he turned the radio up a few notches expecting to hear about another senator caught with his pants around his ankles and a female staffer bent over his desk. What the story was actually about wasn't as sensational but he found it interesting nonetheless. A collapsed mine shaft in south central New Jersey had resulted in an unusual earthquake. What made the story interesting was the report from a local affiliate who was conducting a phone interview with a local witness reporting a dust cloud that had risen high into the sky over the site of the earthquake. The entire scene was being compared to a volcanic eruption as the report described that an area stretching several miles was completely covered with a cloud of ash like debris.  Garrett remembered the last time he had heard about an earthquake on the east coast. He had been stationed down at Fort Bragg at the time and was between deployments when an unusual earthquake rocked the Washington, DC area. There were no injuries reported but it caused quite a bit of damage throughout DC and Virginia. The Washington Monument had suffered the most publicized damage and had been closed for safety reasons ever since while the park services department investigated restoration options. He made a mental note to check out CNN later that evening to see if they had any video footage of the scene in New Jersey, it might be an interesting segment to watch.

His apartment complex was not the
most stylish place in town, but it was within easy walking distance of shopping malls, restaurants and a local gym. The price of rent was not bad for the area and if he landed this job he was interviewing for, he had a pretty easy commute to work each day compared to a couple other prospects that given local traffic patterns would be at least an hour or more one way trip. Pulling into the parking lot in front of his building he was once again reminded about one the downsides of this particular apartment complex. Each resident was given a single reserved numbered parking spot in front of their respective buildings, there was a separate lot across the road for visitors or residents with multiple vehicles. The apartments in this complex ranged in size from two to four bedrooms, his particular building was made up of two bedroom units. He had learned quickly that one of his neighbors, Carlos Hernandez, lived in a single two bedroom apartment five doors down from him along with his brother and three cousins. They were all Hispanic and for some reason were perfectly comfortable sharing beds and living in such close confines. Garrett could care less if they had six families living under one roof, as long as they left him alone. In this case a problem with this arrangement became evident in short order, with only a single parking spot reserved for their apartment and each roommate driving their own car or work truck, they had an ongoing argument about parking. Time after time Garrett's other neighbors would find their personal parking spots taken over by one or the other roommates. Garrett himself had run into this with his own spot on four separate occasions. His first effort at diplomacy in having Carlos relinquish his parking spot was met with a vague attempt at intimidation from Carlos and one of his roommates. Garrett was not impressed and by merely standing his ground he convinced both men that he was not someone who was willing to be pushed around so easily. As he had anticipated, they had relented and quickly moved the truck. Future attempts at reclaiming his parking spot were met with no answer at the door when he came knocking. Spotting his personal spot occupied by a rundown Chevy pickup with a bed full of rusted lawn and gardening equipment, he figured that as soon as Carlos and his crew saw that he had not returned home his first night out, they assumed he had abandoned the spot. Glancing across the street and seeing that the guest parking area was packed tight with cars he decided that he wasn't in the mood today to spend thirty minutes driving aimlessly looking for an open spot within a square mile of his apartment.

Parking his own truck at the side of a curb
, Garrett trotted over to Carlos' apartment front door and skipped the doorbell in place of banging hard on the door. He waited ten seconds and then banged for five, he was determined to keep this pattern going either until he knocked the door free of the frame or someone inside finally grew weary of his perseverance and opened the door. It took almost a full five minutes before the door was flung violently open and Garrett found himself facing a pissed off and clearly very high Carlos and two of his equally stoned roommates. The marijuana smoke cloud that billowed out of the apartment with the door open caused Garrett to back off a couple paces for fear of inhaling enough of the pot laced smoke to get himself high.

"
Da fuck you want man?" Carlos barked.

"I want you to move your damn truck out of my parking spot," Garrett replied as he coughed against the flood of smoke still pouring out of the open door.

The three men started shouting back and forth amongst themselves in rapid fire Spanish. Garrett knew a little of the language but at that speed he could only catch a word here and there, he was pretty sure he caught at least one of the roommates calling him a Gringo pussy or something to that affect. Garrett stood firm and patiently waited for them to finish their discussion, as stoned as they were it was likely one of them might just feel cocky enough to take a swing today. He was confident that the same weed that was giving them an extra dose of imagined courage would also give him to ability to knock the three of them into next week without breaking a sweat. He hoped it didn't come to that, they were neighbors after all, but he was getting a little sick of crap like this.

After a few tense moments and some more back and forth Spanish mixed with some broken English
, Garrett noticed Carlos starting to lose steam. He figured that these guys were hoping just their presence and rapid fire Spanish would be enough to scare him off, when they saw that he had no intention of backing off, none of them was willing to escalate things to the next level. Carlos just nodded and then reached inside the door to grab a ring of keys and stormed off past Garret without another word.

Garrett gave him a few steps to get down the sidewalk so he wouldn't have to walk along with him and then he smiled at the remaining two roommates and casually walked away to his truck. This was a victory today but he knew it was far from the last time he would have to go through this little dance with these guys. Maybe it was even enough of a hassle to start thinking about finding a new apartment altogether.  For now, he just wanted to park his truck, get inside his apartment and stretch out on the couch for an hour or two of peace and quiet.