Jacqueline Druga - Immune

Ed shook his head. “Never had the chance. I worked two jobs to support my mother and pay for her medical expenses and by the time I knew it, life had passed me by.”

“So this isn’t your only job?”

“Is now but… look around. Can’t support a household off of tips in a local Chinese restaurant. I was an electrical engineer for thirty years.”

“Wow, you never know.”

“You never know.”

“Sorry you never got married or had kids,” Paul said. “I didn’t either.”

“Well, you know what they say. It’s never too late to find love.”

When Ed walked from the table, Paul released a sarcastic huff and said softly. “It is now.”

Paul glanced to his phone. No reply. But he was serious. He was going home and packing, he’d leave for Canada the next morning. It was the one reported place not hit.

At least a ‘clear’ place he could drive to.

“There you are,” a woman said then slipped into the booth.

“Here I am. I said I was going to lunch.”

Madeline Winston was a coworker. They didn’t have normal jobs, they worked for the health department under emergency management. Both of them had public health and science degrees. Paul was a nurse before moving on to the health department, Madeline a biologist.

“Yeah,” Paul sipped his tea. “This is the last time I’ll be here. I may get some takeout for the road.”

“You’re nuts. Why are you doing this?”

“Because they lied,” Paul said. “They lied. They said it wasn’t weaponized, and it is.”

“We don’t know that.”

Paul laughed in ridicule. “Then explain how it’s everywhere.”

“Mother Nature is unpredictable. You know that. Just because they say the markings are not consistent with anything they’ve seen, doesn’t mean it’s weaponized.”

“Then what? Alien?” Paul asked sarcastically. “I know that’s what you think.”

“It’s doesn’t have to be little green men to be alien. This could just be biology that attached itself to a space craft. I told you, with the crafts landing on meteors, anything can happen. They return to the atmosphere, they carry the samples—”

“Enough. Whatever it is doesn’t matter.” Paul waved out his hand. “They lied. They said it wasn’t weaponized, they said it wasn’t a problem. They said it was an incident of a blip on the map in South America. Look what happened overnight. We are two of thirty people that know what is going on and that’s only because your uncle is the head of the CDC. Thank you for telling me by the way.” Paul looked up when Ed brought the eggroll. “And man, does this look good.”

Ed asked Madeline, “Do you want anything?”

“Sure, lord knows when I’ll get Chinese again. I’ll have whatever he’s having.”

“Maddy, listen,” Paul leaned against the table. “We have no idea if we’ll get it, be susceptible or immune. It hits that fast. Pass the duck sauce please.”

Madeline moved the container his way. “So you’re running to the hills.”

“Yes, I am. Not ashamed to say I am hiding out. There won’t be a cure for this thing. We’ll have to wait and see if it can burn out.”

“Why not stay? We are emergency management.”

“What are we gonna manage?” Paul asked. “How are we going to manage any emergency in Pittsburgh? This isn’t any other outbreak, where it starts and flowers out like pollen. This thing hits and it happens all at once. It’s very science fiction if you ask me.” He shook the salt over his food. “I just want to go before it gets here. Because if I wait, I’ll be screwed.”

“Well, then you’re screwed.” Madeline offered a fake smile to Ed when he delivered her egg roll. “You can’t leave.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… by tonight you won’t get out of the city, let alone across the border. First reported case, the museum. Two security guards and three EMS are now infected. It’s here,” she said. “Pass the duck sauce.”

Los Angeles, CA

Max Ryker could barely walk. His entire being ached with every step and he was a man in good physical condition. The whole time he went through the airport he kept looking over his shoulder, watching for the police. He had never been so nervous going through TSA.

They kept looking at him. Max didn’t blame them.

He wasn’t breaking any laws for boarding a plane, he had permission from his probation officer to visit his mother in New York.

It was what happened the night before that worried Max.

It was a repeat of history, a repeat of what sent him to jail in the first place. Max always was a hot head. Not even ten years in the service helped that. When he returned, he was more volatile, especially after his tours of duty.

One night, while out with his girlfriend at a bar, he got into a fight with another man, and in a fit of rage that he didn’t understand, Max beat the man to death. The courts were lenient; defense claimed he had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and was sentenced to ten months.

Max served all ten months and was in his fourth month of his three year probation term.

He had stayed out of trouble, worked a job, and all was good. He was excited to see his mom, and had gone out for a drink. A local place that didn’t mention Max was ever there. Of course, that was a violation of his probation.

It was right before the bar closed that it happened.

Several times he told the bartender about the man falling asleep at the bar. The bartender waved Max off. Then two men woke the sleeping man and Max didn’t see the start of it, but the sleeping man went ballistic.

Because he didn’t want to get involved, Max stayed back. The bartender tried to break it up, to no avail, the fight continued.

Max had decided it was time for him to go and he finished his beer amidst the three man fight. By the time Max made it across the bar, as if fighting were contagious, the desire to engage spread to everyone. More were involved, fists flailed, people leapt on others, some screamed. It was insane. Almost out the door, Max saw two of the men attack the only woman in the bar.

What the fuck? Max thought. At that point, the woman, defenseless, screamed and Max intervened.

Not that he was a big guy, but Max wasn’t small. The ‘fighters’ seemed to want nothing to do with him, so it was an easy task. He tossed one of the men from the bleeding woman, and before Max could reach to help her up, the man flung himself back toward the woman. When Max turned to block him, the man opened his mouth and plunged his teeth into Max’s side, gnawing against the ribcage.

Max saw black when the pain hit and once again, he lost it on the man. The man stopped responding. No one noticed, everyone was fighting.

That was when Max took off, certain that the police would catch up to him before he boarded that plane.

They didn’t.

The only thing that eased his mind was the news report about rioting. Perhaps the bar fight was dismissed as that.

Max just wanted to get to New York.

He upgraded at check in, stating he was in a motorcycle accident on the way there and wanted to be comfortable. They asked if he needed medical attention. Max declined, stating he only needed to wash up, have a drink, and relax.

And he did need to wash up. He still had blood on his shoes from people and lord knew what else. He was one of the first to board the plane.

Once on the plane, he squeezed into the tiny bathroom and did his best to wash up. Lifting his shirt, he finally took a look at his chest wound.

The bite mark was huge and it looked as if a chunk was missing from him. He grabbed some towels, wet them down, and placed them over his injury. Surely, he’d get an infection. Hating to do so, Max knew he’d need to see a doctor when he landed. A human bite was nothing to mess with. Although other than being achy, Max felt fine. He wasn’t sick or fevered, and the injury didn’t show signs of infection, it just looked raw.