William Forstchen - One Second After

Kellor leaned over and sniffed the bandage and shook his head. “How did it get infected like this?”

“I think when I was carrying my father-in-law, at the nursing home.”

“Treatment?”

“Makala Turner, the nurse who volunteered to help run the nursing home, she put me on Cipro. Got some from the nursing home.”

“Most likely fecal contact,” Kellor said, nodding and looking at the wound. “But you can also get some pretty tough strains of bacteria and viruses growing even in the cleanest hospital or home, strep or staph.

“Let’s talk about this later,” Kellor said, and went back to his seat.

Kate cleared her throat.

“Ok, let’s get started. We got a new problem. Dr. Kellor, would you lead off?”

The old “town doc” nodded.

“We’ve got an outbreak of salmonella at the refugee center in the elementary school. It was bound to happen. I’ve got at least a hundred sick over there this morning. A mess, a damn mess.”

“How did it get started?” Kate asked.

Kellor looked at her with surprise.

“Hell, Kate. People are used to running water, hundreds of gallons a day. Food with dates stamped on it; one day over the limit and we used to throw it out. There’s six hundred people camped there. At least we still have enough water pressure for the toilets to flush, but no hot water and, to be blunt, no toilet paper or paper towels as well. It’s getting nasty.

“Come on, people. Think about it. Most of us haven’t bathed in ten days, toilet paper’s getting scarce, soup line meals twice a day at the refugee center, food now of real questionable safety, I’ll bet that damn near every person in there will be crapping their guts out and puking by the end of the day.”

He sighed.

“Seven dead this morning. I checked before coming over here. Two of them infants, the rest elderly. Dehydrated out and couldn’t get electrolytes into them fast enough. I’ll need more volunteers to go down there to help out, because it will be full-blown by the end of the day.”

No one spoke. The thought of a school building full of people in that condition… it left the rest in the room silent.

“Remember Katrina and that god-awful Superdome?” Charlie sighed. “Is that what we got?”

“Worse,” Kellor replied. “Screwed up as their administration was, ultimately help was on the way, even though a lot of people started to panic with insane reports of murder and rape. We don’t have that here at all, but on the other side, the cavalry is not going to come rushing in with helicopters loaded with supplies. We are on our own.

“We need to get some clean vats for sterile water; we can mix up an electrolyte batch like what is used in emergency relief in third-world countries.

“We are a frigging third-world country now,” the police officer from Swannanoa said softly.

“It’s simple enough. Just pure water, we still have that, don’t we, Charlie?”

“What is coming out, gravity fed, from the reservoir is still clean, at least as of the last time our water department people tested it yesterday.”

“I worry about that. All you need are some folks camping around the reservoir, one of them has a bug and relieves himself by the lake, and all of us are sick.”

Charlie looked over at Tom.

“We better get a few men up there patrolling the lake. No campers.”

The fishing in the lake was one of the more poorly guarded secrets of the community across the years. The reservoir, shared with Asheville, was supposedly strictly off-limits to everyone, even before all this had started. But many were the kids who would sneak in there with a rod and pull out a trophy brown trout of ten pounds or more. Until an activist type in Asheville had blown the whistle on it half a dozen years back, there was even a private fishing cabin in the woods just above the lake, a secret retreat for the higher-ups in Asheville and Black Mountain. A good-ole-boys club for a weekend of drinking and catching damn big trout on what they saw as their private lake.

Chances now were that people were already looking to that lake as a source of food, and it would have to be stopped.

“We need to mix up a batch of several hundred gallons of clean water, mixture of salt and sugar; it’ll keep the electrolyte balance. Then start pouring it down the throats of those poor people. In nine out of ten cases they’ll just be damn sick for a few days and then pull through.”

“And the tenth case?” Charlie asked.

Kellor sighed.

“Without IVs, the elderly, children under a year, people already weak from other diseases.” He paused and looked at the ceiling for a moment. “I’ll estimate thirty dead, maybe fifty by tomorrow night.”

Charlie folded and unfolded his hands.

“Who will organize the volunteers?” Charlie asked.

John sighed.

“I’ll go up to the campus. See if we can roust out some kids.”

“Promise them a damn good meal at the end of it,” Charlie said. “One of my men got a deer last night. I got it hidden. Venison steak dinner in exchange for a day’s work.”

“I doubt if they’ll be hungry after what we’re throwing them into, but I’ll see,” John said.

Kellor nodded.

“Have them report to me by noon, right here. I’ll have to brief them on their own safety before they go over there.” John nodded.

“Ok, that brings me to something we might not want to talk about,” Charlie said, “but I think we should. Burying the dead.”

“We bury them as we always have, don’t we?” Kate asked.

“There’s no cemetery within town limits. The nearest one is over two miles away. I’m starting to think long term here, people. Not just this case with the salmonella but across the next several months.”

No one replied.

“I’m thinking the town golf course across the street from the park.”

“What?” Tom replied. “That’s crazy. You’re talking about the golf course?”

“Exactly. It’s within an easy walk of the center of town. There was a lot of grading done when it was built, all of it soil, easy to dig. The approach up to the sixth green, that’s all graded soil half a dozen feet deep or more. Remember, there’s no more backhoes to dig graves, it’s back to shovels, and I want graves dug deep and quick.”

“Damn it, Charlie, that’s the town golf course,” Tom interjected.

“As if anyone is going out today to do eighteen holes?” Charlie replied sharply. “Hell, even you only play with an electric cart. I think we need a cemetery and close by, not out on the other side of Allen Mountain.

“Doc, do you agree?”

“Keep it at least a couple of hundred feet back from the creek that feeds into the park. On the slope draining away from the creek. Yes, I agree.”

“Then that’s where we take the dead now.”

John remained silent. It was interesting how different things, different changes, shocked in different ways. Tom was a golf addict. Regardless of what was now happening, to turn his favorite piece of real estate into a cemetery… it was too much for him to absorb at this moment.

“We should get some of the ministers in to consecrate the ground,” Kate said. “Folks will want that.”

Charlie noted it down on his pad. “I’ll talk to Reverend Black; he’s sort of heading up the ministers here now.

“Any other health issues?” Charlie continued.

“Four more deaths up at the nursing home last night. They’re dying off quick up there.”

John thought of Makala. She had pretty well taken over the running of the place and he had not seen her in two days now.

“Three suicides as well. The McDougals and one of the outsiders.”

“Greg and Fran?” Kate asked in shock.