Victor Methos - Pestilence

And the Black Plague of Europe forever changed the balance of power between the great nations, causing, in some way, everything that came after it in Europe and consequently affecting every territory under the British crown.

People were the slaves of bugs a million times smaller than particles of dust.

And the worst of them was the poxvirus, which was so deadly and contagious that humanity worked to abolish it. Humans understood they could not co-exist while this virus was still alive in nature. But it had returned and had become unlike anything anyone had seen. Samantha estimated that it had a 99.9998 percent mortality rate. She knew of only one person who had survived infection, but she had been so badly scarred by the virus that she was blind, deaf, and unable to walk because the infection had destroyed her nerves and blood vessels. Sam would rather have died.

The door to hematology opened, and the young doctor stood there, his safety goggles pushed up onto his forehead. He handed a printout to Samantha.

Lt. General Clyde Olsen sat in a hard plastic chair inside the medical trailer and watched as several of his men communicated with bases across the state. More cases of the poxvirus were being reported, and he didn’t know how that had occurred. Everyone with symptoms had been hospitalized. The only explanation was that some people hadn’t gone to the hospital, but they would all be dead long ago. They wouldn’t have had a chance to infect many others. But the numbers he was getting were off the charts. Some people, somehow, had escaped.

Ten reported cases in Sacramento, twelve in San Francisco, thirteen in Los Angeles, six in Oakland-the list went on and on. He was losing control of this thing. At least the state was locked down. None of these people would be going anywhere.

The phone rang. A private line was connected to his desk in the trailer. He picked it up and said hello.

“Clyde, it’s Lancaster. What the hell’s going on out there?”

“We’ve hit a bit of a snag, sir. Just a minor setback.”

“The reports I’m getting are saying there’s over seventy new reported cases up and down the state.”

“That sounds about right.”

“So what the fuck happened?”

“Frankly sir, what we all suspected would. The pathogen got out somehow. Unless some people either couldn’t or wouldn’t admit themselves to the hospital and continued the spread, this thing escaped under our watch.”

“Damn fucking hippie nature loving cocksuckers…”

Clyde didn’t respond and waited until General Lancaster finished swearing. He cursed for a good ten seconds before calming down and leaving silence between them.

“Get it locked down. Now.”

“Yes, sir. And one more thing, sir.”

“Yeah.”

“There’s some concern that if the infected are still among the gen pop, they could cause an outbreak within the containment facilities.”

“Yeah, and?”

He was silent for a moment, shocked by Lancaster’s statement. “And there are thousands of people there, sir. Including our own men. They’d be like cows in a slaughterhouse.”

“Exactly, confined to a slaughterhouse.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Clyde, you think I like this decision? You think this is a fucking good time for me? It tears my guts out to make these calls, but someone has to make them. Our top priority is to contain that virus. We cannot allow it into any other state. Do you understand that, Clyde? Nothing else matters.”

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Good. Now, for these new cases, the hospitals will probably be overwhelmed soon. Create another facility for use only for the infected. No one else can be admitted there. Have anyone watching them in full biohazard gear. No accidents.”

“Yes, sir. It’ll get done.”

“I know it will.”

Ian sat in the passenger seat of the Audi and tested his knee. He placed his left foot over his right and pressed down. Then he lifted the leg at the back of his injured knee. The lower part of his leg separated about two inches. Nothing was holding it in place.

“So other than delivering meals to the homeless,” he said, “what do you plan to do with your life?”

“I wanted to be an environmentalist. Work at a non-profit, something like that.”

“What for?”

She kept her eyes on the road. “Someone like you wouldn’t understand.”

“Someone like me?”

“You don’t care about anything but yourself.”

“Probably true, but let me tell you a little secret about your Mother Earth. She doesn’t care about anything but herself, either. She’s constantly trying to kill us with earthquakes and volcanoes and tsunamis and disease… She’s not our friend, and she’s not in need of saving. If I stripped you naked and dropped you anywhere over ninety percent of this planet, you would be dead within one day.” He twisted his injured knee to the side, and a sharp pain shot up his leg.

“The earth is apathetic,” she said. “It’s not malicious.”

“Surveys were done in 1904 in New York, asking people what they were scared of. The number one thing was black lung, tuberculosis, and number two was famine. They didn’t mention viruses or asteroids or heart disease or car accidents because they didn’t know about them. Now think a century from now what knowledge we’ll have and what the answers would be to the same survey. It’ll be things we don’t even know about. That’s nature. It runs on death. If anything, I’m more in tune with it than you are.”

Ian pulled out his phone and checked his list. There had been an update on this one. Samantha Bower was initially last on his list since he was going to fly back to Atlanta, where she lived, once everyone in California had been taken care of. But the update stated that she was in Los Angeles.

“What did this doctor do?” she asked.

“I told you, it’s nothing they’ve done. It’s what they will do.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“Fair? What are you, six years old? Haven’t you learned that lesson yet?”

She spent most of the ride in silence. Occasionally, Ian asked her questions, which she answered with only single sentences or yes and no. He eventually stopped trying and stared out the window.

He knew Los Angeles well. It was all glimmer and shine on the surface, but underneath was a dark heart that beat in harmony with the worst aspects of men. The city’s essence was one of use-everyone was used by someone else. And the city never seemed to run out of people. So it had an endless supply of people to drain and discard. The vampire city, his father had called it when Ian told him he was moving back there after his stint in the military.

“I lived here once,” he said, not taking his eyes off the passing landscape before him. “Twice, actually. First, maybe fifteen years ago, when I was a young kid. I saw a man get shot in the middle of the sidewalk during the day. At least a dozen people saw it. The person closest to him as he died on the cement looked at him less than five seconds before stepping over him… I’ve never forgotten that. They’ll all step over you in the end, Katherine. Everyone.”

She glanced over, and he was fidgeting with a small statue of Saint Cyril in his hand. “What is that?”

He glared at her and, for a moment, forgot who she was. Then he remembered and put the trinket back into his pocket. “Nothing. She’s supposed to be at the hospital up here. Stop in front and wait for me.”

After their meal, which was eaten by candlelight, Howie, his daughter, and Mike got back into the jeep. The streets seemed quieter than before. Maybe because the moon was tucked away behind the clouds. He’d always noticed that people were louder when the moon was full. He was glad it wasn’t full that night.