The Uninvited (33 page)

“My bosses say no, Vic. I'm sorry.”

“Why, for God's sake?” screamed Vic, his voice blending into the howling of the winds that buffeted the warehouse.

“Too much risk of an infected person getting loose. Can you say for sure you don't have any infected people where you are?”

Vic said nothing.

“See what I mean? If it was up to me, believe me, I'd come in and get you people. But it's not up to me. I take orders, Vic. And it's out of my hands.”

“It's almost out of mine.” Vic flipped off the switch and tossed the mike on the table.

Back at the General's CP, Bornemann cursed, loud and long. He made up his mind. “I just have to do something. I've got to.”

Vic turned to face a group of angry men. “We're gettin' out of here, Vic,” he was told. “We're takin' our families and gettin' the hell out.”

“I can't stop you,” Vic said. “I wouldn't if I could. I don't blame you. But just remember. Once you're out, you don't come back in.”

 

 

“General,” a Special Forces Captain pleaded. “Let me take my men across the Velour and get those people out. The Combat Engineers say they can bridge that gap over the bridge between Lapeer and Wilson Parishes in no time. We can take flame throwers, cut a path on both sides of the road and keep it open. They got buses in there. I heard the sheriff tellin' you that was how they moved the people to the holding areas. They could load them up and meet us at the bridge. We got dozens of doctors and medics who have volunteered to go. We can give the tests Dr. Boswell rigged up. For the love of God, let's get those people out of there!”

General Bornemann paced his tent. “All right. Go!”

“No!” shouted the President's aide. “By orders of the President, you stay!”

“Goddamn you!” The Green Beret took a step toward the man, ready to tear off his head.

“Hear me out,” the aide said quietly, not backing up an inch, although he was quite aware the Captain could easily kill him. “I know you think I'm heartless and cruel, but that's not true. Not true at all. I'm just doing what has to be done. Hear me out before you disobey a Presidential order.

Doctors Boswell and Wilkins—and all the other medical personnel—say they can't, or haven't, as yet, found anything to kill those creatures. Except fire or physically stepping on one. They have found no, repeat, no cure for the madness the bite produces. But they are all working around the clock. They will find a serum; they just haven't found it yet. It's similar to rabies, it's similar to rickettsial, it's similar to anthrax. God, man, it's similar to a dozen killing diseases. That's the problem. They have found a drug—or a combination of drugs—that will kill the virus, and it is a virus. But right now they are in the stage of tossing out the baby with the bath water. Those massive doses of the drug we gave to the people who were pulled out of the waters of the Velour—by your men”—he glared at General Bornemann—
against my orders, I might add. Those doses stopped the virus cold, killed it, but it also killed the people. The body just could not stand the fighting going on in the system.

“And,” he sighed, “Dr. Boswell believes the virus might be airborne as well. That's why we pulled everyone back a few hours ago. That's why the people patrolling the area are wearing protective gear. And that's why we quarantined those Troopers who assisted in the rescue of the escapees.” He looked at the Green Beret Captain. “Do you see, Captain, why we cannot allow you and your men to go after those people. Do you understand?”

No, sir, I'm sorry. But I don't. We can wear protective gear as well as the next person. We can isolate them as soon as they cross the bridge. So, no sir, I don't see.”

“Captain,” the aide said,
I'm from Mississippi. Just across the river. Chief Deputy Riggs is my first cousin. So you might say I have more of a personal involvement in this matter than you. But, Captain, you and your men will
not,
repeat,
will not
attempt any rescue.” He spun about and walked out of the tent.

Don't bet on it, candy-ass!” the Green Beret muttered. He looked at General Bornemann. “You didn't hear that, sir.”

Of course not,” General Bornemann said. ” But speaking purely hypothetically, you understand, if I were even thinking about going after those people—which I'm not, you know—I'd wait a couple of hours to see what the weather is going to do. But during the interim, if I were going to do anything about it—which I'm not—I believe I'd have some men go to some of the towns around here. Get several fire trucks. Any car, bus or truck coming across that bridge—which, of course, is not going to be repaired—would have to be high-pressure hosed, to knock off any mutant roach. I would have teams of men standing by with flame throwers. Of course, there are all sorts of things one would have to do to prepare for any thing of this magnitude. One just could not sit around with one's thumb up one's ass, waiting for someone else to yell, Switch! No, something like this would have to be planned out very carefully. Supplies would have to be located. But, Captain, we are just speaking hypothetically, are we not?”

“Yes, sir.” The Green Beret smiled. “That we are, sir.”

“Well, son.” General Bornemann patted the Captain's arm. “I'm sure we both have lots to do—lots to think about during the next two hours. Two hours, Captain.”

“Yes, sir,” the Green Beret said. “And, sir?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“For what? I haven't done a thing, son.”

If the people of Lapeer could not be evacuated because of the weather, the mutants were also kept in shelter because of the winds. They could not move in great hordes toward food because the winds would pick the lightweight mutants up and toss them around like confetti. So the hunter and the hunted waited for the weather to abate.

The only people now left safe in Lapeer Parish were housed in the two warehouses, the Catholic Church, and a gym. The older schools were the first to be overrun, then a gym, then the smaller, older churches. The fugitives in the holding areas kept in touch by walkie-talkie.

“What's the count?” Sheriff Ransonet asked Slick.

“Little over twenty-five hundred, last check. But it won't be that many for long. We've got a few hold-outs in the high school and some more scattered around in different places. They're gonna try and make a run for it.”

“Where do they plan on running?”

Slick shrugged.

“The men at our local communications hut?”

No word since last night. They were screaming they were being swarmed, then we lost voice contact.”

“We can't hold out here another night, Slick.”

“I know. That wood out there wouldn't burn if you poured jet fuel on it.”

Vic sighed, the sigh just audible over the howling winds and slashing rain. “I'd rather be shot down by my own kind than sit here and be eaten by those damned bugs. Can you get anything on the all-weather band?”

“Storm is supposed to let up by dark.”

Wonderful,” Vic said sarcastically. “That'll be just in time for supper.”

 

 

“I got an idea,” Bob whispered to Brett.

“Believe me, friend, I am open to almost anything at this point.”

They were standing outside the warehouse, under the roof of a small parking port.

“You heard the rumor about the virus maybe being airborne?”

Yeah, Tanya told me she heard Dr. Whitson telling those government doctors. They can't risk sending anyone in here after us.

“And maybe they can't risk letting us out, either,” Bob said. “Is that what you're saying?”

“The thought has occurred to me. I couldn't blame them.”

“I'm not looking to fix blame. But if that's the case, then we may as well hang it up. We've bought the farm, old buddy. All of us.”

“What's your idea?”

“Your truck's the same model as mine and they swarmed all over us yesterday. Couldn't find a way in.”

“True.”

Tanya and Kiri joined them. Sarah clung to her mother's hand, her eyes registering numb fright.

“And you have a reserve tank on the truck?”

“Yes. Both tanks combined hold over forty gallons. Kiri and I are going up in the mountains on our honeymoon.”

Kiri squeezed his hand.

“Okay.” Bob paced the small area they occupied. The rain blew in from three sides. “As long as we're moving, the bugs can't get us—right? If we stay here, as soon as this rain and wind passes, the bugs are going to swarm us. We've had it. I'd rather take my chances outside, rolling. How 'bout you guys?”

Tanya and Kiri nodded their agreement.

“I like it,” Brett said. “Let's go tell the sheriff. Maybe we can form a convoy.”

 

 

“The networks are screaming, the big dailies are screaming. Everybody with a two-bit press card is hollering, Mr. President,” the chief advisor on internal affairs informed the President. “People with relatives in those areas are howling for information. I just don't see how we can sit on this any longer.”

President Hospon swiveled slowly in his leather chair. “I'm so very happy this is the last year of my last term,” he said. “You couldn't give me this job again if you offered me a billion tax-free dollars a year and Linda Ronstadt to help me spend it.”

His friend and advisor laughed. He was one of the very few who knew the President of the United States had the hots for the sexy singer.

“Wallace, you did the only thing you could do with the people in those Parishes and with the media. I think we've averted a nationwide panic. Now it's time—I believe—to let the rest of the nation know what is happening.”

“The damned Russians are going to accuse us of germ warfare,” President Hospon said glumly. “They're going to say we had a spill—and they won't be too far off base. I wish to God we could use this stuff to drop on them!”

“Screw the Russians.”

The President grinned. “I've seen some I'd sure like to have a bang at.”

“Wallace, if your wife doesn't give you some, and quickly, you're going to be the horniest man in this town. And nobody should be horny in Washington.”

The President ignored that. He didn't want any from his wife. He glanced at his watch. “We'll sit on it till dawn tomorrow.”

“That's cutting it fine.”

“My aide down there tells me it should all be over by then.”

“What do you mean?”

Their eyes touched.

“You really want to know, Kenny?”

You mean, no one gets out. Is that it?”

“You said it, not me.”

The aide turned away and quietly left the room.

“God!” the President spoke to the silent room. “I will be so glad to get out of this office.”

He punched the play button on a small cassette player. Linda was singing
Blue Bayou.

 

 

“How many buses do you have, Sheriff?” Bob asked.

“Little over forty.”

“And they seat ... ?”

Vic told him. “But there is no guarantee the buses aren't filled with bugs. And there is no guarantee the buses are bug-proof. But,” he sighed, “I like the plan. Sure beats the hell out of sitting around here waiting for dinner. Someone else's.” He thought for a moment. “Slick, let's do it. Check out the buses for bugs—take some fire extinguishers. Let's roll—get the hell out of here. You!” He pointed to a city patrolman. “Get on the horn and contact the others in the churches and the gym. Tell them we're going to park buses in front of the buildings. Be ready to roll.”

Many of the people did not want to take the buses; they wanted instead to use their own cars and trucks and vans. Vic did not argue. He was too tired to argue.

“We've got two Parishes to play around in,” Vic said, as the people filed into the vehicles. “Lots of highways. But let's stay together in case of breakdown. First, we'll head north, then drive right up to that goddamned blownup bridge and tell General Bornemann what we're doing. We'll keep in touch with handy-talkies.” He looked around him. “All right—mount up and roll.”

Many of the people had vans, and these were used to transport the more seriously ill. Everyone was relieved just to get out of the stinking warehouses and churches.

You seen Rollie or Jimmy?” Vic asked Slick.

“They've had it,” the chief deputy said. “Bought it last night tryin' to keep some punks out of the gym.”

“Damn!” The sheriff looked at a paper in his hand.
You believe this? Nineteen hundred and fifty-six people. Out of almost ten thousand people, we got less than one-fifth still alive and going.” He shook his head. “Okay, pal, space 'em once we hit the highway.” He shook hands with Slick. “I'll take the point. Luck to you, Slick.”

“I'll be drag-assin' around in the rear.”

Let's go.”