The Death Trilogy (Book 1): The Death: Quarantine (16 page)

“Are you close with your family?”

“I am. I’m lucky that way.”

“Family is important. I know for me they’re everything. That’s why I’m here,” Lori mentioned as she moved away from him.

“Oh, come on, there isn’t somewhere inside of you a personal desire to be a part of something greater than you are, to be involved with the building of our new country?”

“What does that mean, new country?”

“It’s not clear to you yet? Our old way of life is gone; it died when the virus wiped everyone and everything out. The virus gave us a clean slate for humankind to build from. There has to be some excitement for you there,” Horton said with passion.

Having experienced his temper yesterday, she decided to keep her opinions to herself and to moderate her questions.

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thrilled by this honor. I wouldn’t have become an architect had I not wanted to create things, beautiful things that outlive me. It’s a way for me to have…”

“A legacy.”

“Yes, a legacy.”

“I knew it; I knew you had that same fire I have inside of me and what the others have on the council. I wouldn’t have you here if I thought you didn’t share the same burning desire to do something epic and magnificent.”

Her mind was spinning with a dozen questions, but she bit her tongue. All she had to do was make it past dinner and she’d be home free. Her plan was to feign illness and leave, but not until she suffered through the meal.

“How do you like the wine?” he asked.

“It’s good.”

“Good? It’s great. It’s a 2015 Opus. I had cases of it flown in and stored. It’s a way for me to preserve some of the beauty and creativity that existed before,” he said as he held the crystal glass up to the light while swishing it.

Not able to bite her tongue any longer, she walked back to the photos and pointed to the one she was curious about. “Where was this taken?”

“Oh, that one? In Elbert County, Georgia.”

“Where is that?”

“Nowhere special, it’s in northeastern Georgia.”

“When was this taken?”

He walked up to the photograph and picked it up. He smiled when he looked at it, then placed it back down. “That was a good day.”

“You all look happy.”

“We were. It was the beginning of it all.”

“Of what?”

He didn’t answer as his mind was now reliving the moment.

The chef walked into the room and said, “Dinner is served.”

“Great, I’m starved,” he said and turned to her. “After you.”

“When was the photo taken?”

“Never mind that, tonight the chef prepared osso buco. I haven’t had that in such a long time.”

“What are the inscriptions I saw on the tablet?” she pressed, not wanting to let it go.

He ignored her as he walked into the dining room and stood behind a high-back chair. He pulled it out and said, “Here you go.”

Lori sat down. “Thank you.”

He quickly followed suit and sat next to her at the head of the table.

“There were some interesting inscriptions. What do they mean?”

“You’re obsessing over that photo.”

His remark was all she needed to hear; with that she kept quiet. Having a repeat of yesterday was something she desperately wanted to avoid.

During the entire meal, Lori didn’t ask prying questions; she endured the boring and meaningless conversation and longed for the night to be over. She couldn’t stop thinking about how strange it was that all the people in the photo were still alive and at the DIA. What were the odds of that? The Death killed ninety percent of all infected, that made the odds of all of them surviving very low, but there they were, working at the DIA and also friends and colleagues of Horton. How could that be? Dumb luck?

“Hello, Lori, where are you?” Horton asked, waving his hand near her face.

“Oh, um, sorry, I drifted off in thought. I do that quite often, my husband tells me.”

“I contacted Camp 13 today and spoke with the camp commander. I instructed him to keep an eye on your husband and son, to make sure they’re being taken care of.”

“Thank you.”

“I figured it was the least I could do. I know how concerned you are for them. I figured if you’re happy, your work will benefit, and if that happens, I win, we all win.”

“I’m sorry, I have to ask.”

“Oh no, here comes an odd and probing question,” Horton joked as he relaxed into his chair, bracing himself for her left-field question.

“Are all the people in that photo alive and working here?”

Horton grinned and said, “You’re not just a beautiful and talented woman, but you’re an obsessive one too.”

“I’m all about details; that’s what makes me a great architect,” she said with a large smile.

“Well, that remains to be seen.”

“Does it now?”

“No one has seen anything from you yet, and when we do, we can make the determination if you’re a ‘great’ architect.

“That’s fair. So about that photo?”

“Really, back to that again?”

“Yes, I just find it odd that every person in it is alive and here. Am I wrong about that?”

“No, you’re not, we were all lucky.”

“Those are some incredible odds, but I guess not impossible.”

“An after-dinner drink, maybe a port?” he asked, standing up from the table.

The chef had left ten minutes ago, so they were now alone.

“No more for me. I’m actually not feeling all that well.”

“I don’t believe it; that’s an overused excuse women use. Just one more drink with me, then you can go.”

Lori felt a wave of nausea hit her, causing her stomach to tighten and saliva to build up in her mouth. “No, I feel nauseated.”

“Come on, really?”

“I think I need to go. Where’s the bathroom?” she asked, standing up quickly.

He could see that she wasn’t looking well, so maybe she was telling the truth.

Lori raced into the large powder bathroom. It took every ounce of her fiber not to throw up. When she reached the toilet, she flipped up the lid and immediately began to puke into the toilet bowl.

After twenty minutes had gone by, he knocked. “You okay in there?”

What seemed like an endless episode of throwing up had finally ended with her only puking up bile. Her body was tired, and she felt a bit weak.

“Hello, Lori, you okay?” he asked again. This time he checked the door handle, and it was unlocked. He turned it and opened the door. He was surprised to find her sitting on the floor with her right arm resting on the toilet bowl. “Should I call a doctor?”

“No, please don’t. I’m fine, must have been something I ate.”

“Here, let me help you,” he stepped in and took her by the arm. With a slight boost he brought her to a standing position.

Her legs felt wobbly, and without his help she knew she’d fall over.

“I think I need to go back to my room.”

“Let me get some people up here to help you,” he said as he guided her to the couch and placed her on it.

“Thank you,” she answered and then flung her legs onto the couch and snuggled up to a pillow.

“Let me also call you a doctor. I have the best,” he insisted.

“No, please don’t. It was just a reaction to something I ate.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Let me rest here till someone arrives to take me home.”

“Very well.”

She closed her eyes only to rest but quickly fell asleep.

When the last strap tightened, she woke up.

“What’s going on?” she asked, looking down and seeing she was strapped to a gurney.

“We have to play it safe here. I can’t be sure you’re not contaminated with something until we get you checked out.”

“I’m immune. I can’t get sick.”

“We don’t know if you have a mutated virus. We need to protect us all.”

She struggled with the straps to no avail and after five minutes gave in.

Horton walked alongside the gurney as they sped through the hallways and passageways till they reached the state-of-the-art hospital that had been created on-site.

“I feel fine now. I’m telling you it was just something I ate. Please let me go,” Lori pleaded.

Horton placed his hand on her shoulder and said, “Lori, just let us do our due diligence, and we’ll know soon enough.”

Several medical personnel wheeled her into a room and closed the door, leaving Horton on the other side. All were wearing protective suits and worked quickly to diagnose her symptoms.

She lifted her head and looked around the room. It was no different than any hospital room she’d seen before. Medical equipment, monitors and one bed was in the room. Along the wall opposite the door were a line of cabinets and a counter.

They unstrapped her and transferred her to the bed, where again they fastened straps on her arms and legs.

“You don’t need to do that,” she said.

“It’s protocol,” one of them said.

Another came up to her, lifted her sleeve, wrapped an elastic tube around her arm, and said, “Pump your hand.”

She did as they said. A tinge of fear was etched on her face as she looked at the woman behind the mask sitting next to her, now armed with a needle.

Several veins enlarged in her arm.

With a needle in her hand, the nurse jabbed her vein and began to draw blood.

Lori rested her head back and closed her eyes. She thought to herself,
Why is this happening?

The nurse finished and stepped to the counter with the vial.

Right behind her was another nurse with an electronic tablet. She looked down at Lori and asked, “How do you feel?”

Lori lifted her head again and said, “Fine, I’m telling you, it was something I ate.”

“Any pain?”

“No, nothing.”

“Nausea?”

“No, not anymore.”

“Allergies?”

“None.”

“Are you on any medications, including R-59?”

“Ahh, no, what’s R-59?”

The woman who had taken her blood turned around and said, “She’s clear, virus is present, no mutation found.”

The nurse with the tablet was tapping the screen with dizzying speed.

“Can you let me go?” Lori asked.

The nurse didn’t respond; she kept tapping on the screen.

“I heard the other nurse, I’m fine. Can I go now?”

The nurse looked up and acknowledged her but didn’t answer; instead she asked, “Any sexual activity within the last seven days?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Are you pregnant?”

“No!” Lori screamed. Her patience had run out, and her anger had replaced the fear. She shot a glance to the small window in the door and saw Horton peeking in. “Chancellor Horton, tell them to let me go.”

The nurse holding the tablet walked over to the other and the lone man who was in the room. They discussed Lori, but nothing she could hear. One of the nurses broke away and wheeled over a large piece of equipment that had a monitor attached to it and a large keyboard with a mouse.

Lori recognized it but hadn’t seen one so small. “Is that an ultrasound?”

“Yes,” the nurse answered.

The second nurse came up and lifted up Lori’s shirt, all the while the man just stood in behind, monitoring the situation.

The nurse operating the machine began typing on the keyboard. The monitor came alive with a blip and went dark. With her left hand, she took a bottle of lotion and squirted it on Lori’s belly, then with her right placed the transducer probe in the center of the lotion and began to move it around on Lori’s lower belly.

“This is crazy, I’m not pregnant. I mean, I don’t think I can be,” Lori blurted out. She tried to see the monitor but couldn’t.

The nurse pressed the probe down and began to move it around, looking for something that would either confirm or deny a possible pregnancy.

Suddenly the nurse stopped, she hit a few buttons on the keyboard and looked over at the man in the room.

He walked over, nodded, and looked down at Lori. “Congratulations, you’re pregnant.”

Lori’s eyes widened, and her mouth just dropped. “What? I-I can’t be, I just can’t.”

The man turned the monitor towards Lori and said, “I’m afraid you are, and by the dimensions, you’re approximately ten weeks.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Lori gasped.

“Do you wish to keep the fetus?” the man asked.

“Are you asking if I want an abortion?”

“No, I’m asking if you want this to go full term. You are aware that just because you’re immune doesn’t guarantee your child will be. Right now the child is protected by you and the antibodies your system has created. The moment the baby is born; there is a 90% chance it will die.”

“You’re saying I have an option?”

A knock at the door disrupted the discussion.

Lori looked over and saw Horton waving the man towards him.

The man exited the room.

A moment later the man came back and said, “Amy, Heather, come with me.”

The nurses followed the man out, and Horton walked in and closed the door. He approached her and said, “I assume congratulations are in order?”

“I don’t know what to say, I’m shocked, truly shocked. With my other two children I did get bad morning sickness, similar to my awful display upstairs, but I never would have thought. I just assumed it was something I ate.”

“So that long answer means yes?”

“Of course I’m keeping this baby.”

“I suppose you want to be unrestrained?” he joked.

“This is no way to treat an expecting mother,” she joked back.

He released the restraints and raised the head of the bed while tucking another pillow behind her head. He looked at her with gentle eyes and said, “I’m glad to hear that you wish to keep the baby.” Seeing she still had the lotion on her skin, he took a few tissues from a box and gave them to her.

As she wiped off her belly, Horton grabbed a chair and put it next to her and sat down. He exhaled deeply and said, “I want to help you.”

“You can help me by bringing my family here to be with me during this process.”

“I can’t do that, Lori. I’m sorry, but what I can do is give you the very thing that will guarantee your baby lives.”

“Why can’t you bring my family here? I need my husband,” she shot back, frustrated.