Jacqueline Druga - Immune

Right after his lunch, Madeline got the call that the Emergency Team was summoned to the museum. Most of the infected had been cleared, but some still remained.

With reports of infection springing up everywhere, there weren’t any CDC or WHO teams going out. It was left up to each individual city.

Paul knew Pittsburgh was lucky. Back in the day, the CDC had divisions in Atlanta and Vermont only, but over the decades, Pittsburgh had earned its own office, so the CDC was going to be there as well. That let Paul know that more than likely, there wouldn’t be too many mishaps. Plus, he would get information. Even though Madeline confided in him the information shared with her by her uncle, hearing it and reading it on paper was different than actually seeing it. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it appeared.

Although Paul couldn’t speak of other towns, his city emptied out. Most of the traffic was outside in the suburbs. Paul experienced that when he left the restaurant. He couldn’t figure out where everyone was going. He realized some were going home for the day, but those with packed cars? Where did they think they could run? Unless, like Paul, they were aware of safe zones.

An entire three block radius around the museum had been shut down. Small fires erupted and a lot of vandalism had occurred at nearby businesses. Windows were busted, and merchandise was strewn to the street.

Paul suited up. While doing so, he conveyed to Madeline how it sickened him to see the looting and how people were taking advantage of a bad situation.

“It’s wasn’t looters, Paul,” she replied. “The infected are just violent. The ones who catch the bug go through a flu-like phase, but those who are secondary infected are in a rage within one minute to an hour.”

“How many from the museum?”

“Most,” she said as they walked in. “We know it’s airborne and blood borne.”

The museum swarmed with health officials and they walked straight until they arrived at the dinosaur section.

“Our last remaining ill,” Madeline pointed to the long window. It opened to a lab, where workers would dust bones and so forth as a means of entertainment for the visitors.

The one worker inside spotted them and raced full speed to the window.

Paul jumped back.

The infected man pounced against the glass, gnawing at it, scratching it. Paul stepped closer to get a look. He needed to see what an ‘infected’ looked like. The appearance of death, white and pale. The man had no injuries other than what was self inflicted.

Even though the infected man was on the other side, Paul heard it.

“What is that noise? Why does he sound like he is snoring? That’s loud.”

Madeline shook her head. “I don’t know. That’s the only sure sign that they aren’t dead. Their airways seemed constricted.”

“Or his tongue is swollen.”

Madeline stepped closer and the infected man wearing the name tag, ‘Mark’ slammed against the window again.

“Did you get a look?” Paul asked.

“It does look swollen.”

“That would explain the breathing.”

Mark backed up and ran to the window again.

“That window will not hold,” Paul said.

“We’re sending people in there.”

“Anyone unaccounted for?” Paul asked.

“One worker, she left early. But she left after the first victim collapsed.”

“How is she?”

“Well, she’s fine. That was several hours ago. Last we talked she wasn’t showing symptoms. She said the reason for leaving was because two of her family members were ill.”

Paul groaned. “Did she go near the victim?”

“No, but was in the same room.” Madeline said. “Infection spread is fast. The scariest aspect of this is the ability to spread via indirect contact. Any surface, object, holds the virus.”

“If she did go near the victim, get any blood on her at all, she was a walking weapon.”

“If we had more time we would be able to test and see if people are carriers.”

“What do you mean more time?”

“Take a look around, Paul,” Madeline stated. “We’re out of time. It’s over.”

Madeline’s words stayed with him and he actually debated on sticking around. The scientist in him wanted answers and wanted to help, but the man and human in him wanted to live.

Paul went home, packed what he could, gathered food and supplies and a baseball bat, and left his house.

He tried calling Madeline and there was no answer. He couldn’t with a clear conscience leave without staying anything.

By the time he left the house that evening, he realized he could possibly get out of the city. It had quieted down. No one was around. Either people were staying inside and safe or they were sick.

Madeline lived not far from Paul in the suburb of Mount Hallow. He lived in the neighboring community and drove over to her home without incident.

Her lights were on, and her car was in the driveway.

Paul rang the bell several times and knocked. There was no answer. He looked in the front window, spotted her asleep on the sofa, and then tried the door, which was locked.

He walked around to the back and tried the sliding door. Fortunately, that was open and as soon as he stepped inside he heard that eerie sound.

Before visiting the museum he would not had thought twice about it, but hearing the deep steady sound sent fear into Paul.

It sounded like a large man growling and snoring at the same time.

He reached into the kitchen drawer, grabbed a knife, and headed to the living room.

“Maddy?” he called out.

Madeline didn’t move.

He thought about leaving, not saying a word, but he had to know.

He inched closer, knife ready in case she attacked, and called her name again.

The ‘snore’ sound did not stop, but Madeline opened her eyes.

They were void of all color. She twisted her neck left to right, then stood up.

Her left leg shook, as if her body was apprehensive about take a step. She moved slowly, trying to find a balance. Her head bobbed side to side, looking around.

She paused at Paul and looked right through him. Madeline opened and closed her mouth several times. He could hear the clack of her thickened tongue hit against the roof of her mouth. Then Madeline walked by him.

It broke his heart to see her like that. He gripped that knife tightly, truly thinking of putting her out of her misery, but he couldn’t. No matter how easy the movies made it look, it wasn’t. No matter how deathlike the person appeared, they were still a friend. There was still love and a connection.

He reached out and touched her and she didn't respond. Softly, he said his goodbye, and walked away.

For as much as it bothered him, Paul discovered another thing at his friend’s home. Paul had learned that, more than likely, he was Immune.

Whether that was a blessing or curse, remained to be seen.

Fight 4772

Two hours and ten minutes after takeoff from Los Angeles, the co-pilot told Captain Eugene Lewis that he was ill. In fact he looked really bad. His forehead was sweaty, eyes dark, and when Eugene reached over to touch him, the co-pilot’s skin was on fire.

He thought about moving him to first class to make him more comfortable then nixed that idea because he didn’t want to put the other passengers at risk of infection. Not a few minutes later, the head flight attendant called for the captain.

“Something is wrong,” Stacy said. “We have about forty percent of our passengers who got sick right away. I don’t know if it was something on the plane, but they’re fevered and ill.”

Eugene took a moment to close his eyes and think. “The co-pilot is sick as well.”