The Death Trilogy (Book 1): The Death: Quarantine (5 page)

“You won’t get sick, ever.”

“Why would you say that?”

She faced him again and answered, “Because we’re all infected. If you had any contact with anyone a week after, the chances are almost one hundred percent that you came into contact with an infected person.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re immune like me and Brando over there.”

“Immune?”

“The Death is spread easily; just a breath from someone will infect you, a simple touch. If an infected person touches a doorknob, the virus remains on there until it can be sterilized. The Death is the most efficient virus ever made.”

“You said
made
.”

“Yes, well, I don’t know for sure if it was, but there are some survivors out there that think it was created by the government as a form of population control, and when they released it, there were unintended consequences, like killing all life.”

“I can’t believe that. I just can’t put my arms around such an outlandish conspiracy.”

“Then where did it come from?” Tess asked, challenging him.

“I think it was from the asteroid strike; it came from interstellar space.”

“The extraterrestrial or space germ is another theory, but does it really matter? It happened, we lived, and we have to survive,” Tess said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“I guess you’re right.”

After Tess finished stuffing her three-day tactical MOLLE pack, she placed it with her rifle next to the back door and quickly exited.

Devin was unsure where she was going and really didn’t care. He sat in the chair thinking about what had happened and some of the odd revelations she had shared with him.

The shadows in the room were growing long as the sun was setting in the west. He didn’t plan on sleeping in the house and didn’t know where she’d want to be.

The answer to that question came in with her.

Tess walked in with a shovel and said, “I’m sleeping in here but not until you bury your family.”

He looked at her and raised his brow.

“Here,” she said, her arm outstretched with the shovel in hand.

“My arm is hurt, remember.”

“Your arm is not broken, just a flesh wound. Now come on.”

He looked at her and asked, “Are you serious?”

“Time for you to stop being a pussy and do what’s right.”

He neglected to tell her one of the main reasons he chose not to bury them. By doing so, by handling the dead, he somehow acknowledged the reality of all the death, especially Cassidy’s.

“Why do you care? I thought you were leaving tomorrow anyway.”

She unzipped the leather jacket and held the right side open.

His eyes widened when he saw the bloodstain on the white T-shirt that was sticking out from underneath the tactical body armor she was wearing.

“Oh my God, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll live.”

“Were you shot?”

“Yes, but I bandaged it nicely after I took care of you. It stings more than anything. I just want a place to lay low for a day or so.”

He looked at the shovel and stood up. Taking it by the handle, he said, “Let’s go find a place to do this.”

Tess was busy tamping down the freshly dug earth on the graves of Tom and his family.

As she diligently finished, Devin laid some of the kids’ toys at the heads of the graves, a large stuffed rabbit for the girl and a large yellow Tonka truck for the boy .

When the two of them had completely finished, they looked at the mounds, then at each other.

“Do you want to say something?” she asked.

Devin felt put on the spot, but it only seemed right to say something. “Sure.” He clasped his hands together and lowered his head.

She followed suit.

“Tom, I didn’t get to see you much after our childhood, but I could tell you were a good man, a good father and a good husband. I’m sorry that this happened and that you thought that what you did was your only choice. I only wish I had arrived sooner, maybe then we could have thought of a different solution. Either way, your life and your beautiful family’s will be remembered by me. Amen.”

Tess lifted her head and watched Devin finish his prayer. She was impressed by what he had said and thought it was heartfelt.

“I hope that was good,” Devin sheepishly said.

“It was beautiful.”

FEMA Camp 13, Region VIII, Fifty Miles East of Denver International Airport

The admin building was one of a group of semi permanent structures. Access to them was heavily guarded behind a web of concertina wire, sand bags and Jersey barriers.

When Lori saw how reinforced and protected the admin and camp staff structures were from day one, it made her think that something wasn’t right, but she quickly dismissed it.

Vasquez escorted her through the thick layer of protection till she arrived at her destination, the camp reassignment director’s office.

“Wait here. Don’t go anywhere, you understand,” Vasquez snorted.

She looked at him with contempt.

Vasquez was a tough nut to crack. Many in Quadrant 4 thought him arrogant and cruel. It wasn’t that he displayed hatred or even mistreated people; it’s just that he lacked any warmth and seemed to detest his position and those at the camp.

He walked off and disappeared down the corridor.

Lori looked around the dull waiting area. The room lacked any color or adornment; just a flat gray paint covered the paneled walls. The white drop-down ceiling and yellow glow of the halogen lights didn’t help the overall dread the room gave off, adding to her nervous anticipation.

A door opened beside her and out stepped a woman.

“Lori Roberts?”

“Yes.”

“Hi, I’m Yvonne Foley, Camp 13 reassignment director.”

“Hi,” Lori answered nervously.

“Please come in and take a seat,” Yvonne said, motioning Lori to a seat in front of her desk.

Lori got up, walked past her, and took the seat in the chair.

Yvonne closed the door and walked to her desk and said, “I know you’re asking yourself, what am I doing here?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I am asking that.”

Yvonne took a seat and opened up a jacket folder and began to flip through it.

Lori leaned in and saw her name on the tab.

“Mrs. Roberts, or can I call you Lori?”

“Lori is fine.”

“Good, I like that, makes it seem…less formal.”

Lori was a talented architect, and one of the reasons she shined in her profession was because of her attention to detail. She examined Yvonne, the desk and the room, looking for details to help explain anything about why she might be there or what might be going on outside the camp. Information was valuable in camp, and no one really knew what was going on. She studied Yvonne’s attire, looking for clues. The desk was similar to the office and the room outside, void of anything distinguishing or colorful. The room had the same gray walls, white drop ceilings and the metal desk was slate gray. The gray walls were empty, nothing hung there but a single clock, and that was worthless as the time was wrong. Beside a pile of other jacket folders, there stood a single lamp upon the desk. Lori did note the three filing cabinets behind Yvonne; she imagined the wealth of information housed in them.

“I’ll just get to the point. This morning Camp Commander Brockman mentioned that Camp Sierra was expanding. That’s great news for all, but when things grow, there are also growing pains. You see, we need more people to help in our expansion, and we are in need of architects, like yourself.”

Lori gulped and waited to hear the one thing she thought would never happen, a way out of there.

“Lori, we see here that you are an architect and even were head partner in your firm. That is just wonderful.”

“You’re sending us away?”

Yvonne looked up from the file and answered, “Us?”

“You have me in here to tell me that my family and I are being chosen to go to Camp Sierra?”

“No, no, your family won’t be going to Camp Sierra, nor will you just yet. We’re sending you to the DIA. There you’ll work with a team who we’ve put together.”

“I don’t understand. What do you mean my family isn’t coming with me, and what’s the DIA?”

“Lori, you look upset. I can tell you that everything will be fine. Be happy; you’ve been chosen to help rebuild. This is a great opportunity for you and your family.”

“I can’t leave my family. Do you understand?” Lori exclaimed.

“Lori, please calm down. There’s no reason for you to get upset,” Yvonne warned.

“What’s going on here? This isn’t right. Where are you taking me?”

“Mrs. Roberts, I can assure you that all is fine. We need people of your expertise to help draft plans for the Camp Sierra expansion, that’s all. We’re headquartering the team working on this project at Denver International Airport or the DIA for short,” Yvonne stressed but in a calm tone.

Lori locked her eyes on Yvonne and tried to see if she could pick up on any body language.

“We need you to be ready to leave this afternoon.”

With her mind spinning with different scenarios, she finally steadied herself and began to think rationally. This was an opportunity to get out of camp, and if all went well, she, David and Eric would be allowed to go to Camp Sierra.

“How long will I be gone?”

“Unsure, but that really depends on how quickly your team completes the project.”

“Um, okay. But why can’t my family come with me?”

“Like every camp and support location we have around the continent, we have limited resources and therefore can’t bring everyone, but the main reason is we want you to be focused on the task. Your participation is important.”

“I’m sorry, but I have to ask, why me, besides the fact that you need architects?”

“Your expertise was municipal planning; we need someone with that there. Lori, many people have died. There just aren’t many people like you out there. And your…” Yvonne said, studying the file.

“And what?”

Yvonne looked up and said, “Oh, nothing, really.”

“What are those numbers?” Lori asked, referencing a chart she saw in her file.

“Stats from your blood test from when you arrived.”

Lori grew concerned. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything is fine,” Yvonne said, closing the file. “We need you for this project. You should be happy; you’ve been requested specifically for your talents and because of who you are. Trust me; this is a very good thing for you and your family.”

Lori thought about the opportunity. She just hoped the explanation made sense; she just didn’t know how she’d explain this to David and Eric.

“Do you have any other questions?”

“Will I be able to communicate with my family while I’m gone?”

Yvonne hesitated and then answered, “I don’t see why not.”

“Good, this is really good, thank you,” Lori said, a reluctant smile now creasing her face.

“Thank you, Lori, please report to Big Red at sixteen hundred for departure protocols.”

“I’ll be there, thank you.”

“That will be all. Have a safe trip,” Yvonne said as she looked down and scribbled notes on Lori’s file.

Lori left, and after closing the door, she exhaled deeply. The conflicting emotions that were running through her mind began to manifest in her body as she began to tremble.

A loud commotion down the hall caught her attention. Curious as to what it was, she slowly walked towards it. From the voices she could hear, it sounded like several men were in a disagreement. It wasn’t until she reached the partially open door did she find out what was happening. Cautiously she peered in and saw what appeared to be a control room. Monitors and displays were mounted along the far wall; she recognized some of the images to be her camp.

The men inside erupted into laughter; what she thought was a disagreement was just several men horsing around. Their backs were turned towards her, making their identities impossible. Then she caught an image that shocked her but to the men provided a sadistic and grotesque form of entertainment. The men were laughing and cheering at a video of people being executed.

She leaned in as close as she could to get a better look and was more shocked to see the video looked like it was homemade and not a movie. The video zoomed in on a woman. She was crying and begging for her life. Then the unspeakable occurred; a man dressed in a uniform walked up to her and shot her in the head. Seeing this, Lori gasped.

The men in the room stopped laughing and looked at each other.

“Did you hear that?” one asked as he stood and turned towards the open door.

Lori looked both ways, trying to decide where she should go. She saw a bathroom not ten feet away and made a dash for it.

Her heart was racing; she immediately rushed to a stall and stepped inside. Closing and locking the door behind her, she sat on the toilet and collected herself.

“No, no, no, you didn’t really see that. It must have been a movie or something,” she said under her breath in rapid succession.

The bathroom door creaked open, and a man’s voice called out, “Anyone in here?”

Lori panicked; she drew her legs up and cradled them so as not to be seen from below.

The man entered, the hard soles of his boots crunching the small bits of dirt and pieces of gravel that had never been swept off the hard tile floor.

She heard him take a few steps then stop. Her heart was pounding fast and loud in her ears. She planned her escape if necessary, but didn’t know to where.

The man took another step when the door creaked again.

“Hey, Thomas, stop fucking around. The commander needs to see you,” another male voice said.

“Okay, I’m coming,” he said as he turned and exited.

When the door shut, Lori took a few deep breaths and thought to herself
, What is going on here?

Decatur, Illinois

The sun had finally surrendered to the horizon, and nightfall was coming. With the family buried, it was time to occupy the house.

“I’ll take the girl’s room ,” Tess said.

“Fine, I’ll sleep in the guest room downstairs.”

“Did you see any baling wire in the barn?” Tess asked.