“We still need an escape plan,” the man said. “There are thousands out there.”
“I agree. We’re working on it and will take any suggestions.”
Someone else in the group asked, “What is this thing? Where did it come from? I mean, last we heard on the news it was in South America. Is there a cure?”
So many questions from one person. Paul supposed everyone had the same questions.
“There’s no cure. There wasn’t time. When it first broke out in South America, the entire town was infected in two days and to prevent spreading, they burned out the town. But it did spread. Now, there were rumors within the CDC that the germ was manmade. The town was used as an experiment. By who? We don’t know. That was never confirmed. Soon it popped up all over South America, but it wasn’t here. It wasn’t at the time airborne.”
Stanton spoke up. “We were mobilized before the germ arrived. Before any of you probably knew, it was already here, our hospitals were seeing it. We don’t know where it is or how far it spread, we know it’s in a good bit of the United States. We’re trying like heck to get radio communications up somewhere.”
“Unconfirmed and in no way take this as gospel,” Paul said, “I was told yesterday morning that it was over. It was here, there was no stopping it and my friend that told me believed it was a massive biological attack on the United States. That was how so many got it at once.”
Stanton laughed. “That’s a hell of a massive attack.”
“The government had to know,” someone in the group spoke up. “Why else do you mobilize the National Guard before a germ arrives unless they knew it was coming? No one predicts a natural virus of this magnitude. This fast. An attack makes sense.”
Stanton shook his head. “No, it doesn’t. Explain the delivery. A bomb? We didn’t see a bomb. A lone suicide deliverer? A single infected is not going to do this, whether or not they turn an entire supermarket at once.”
Paul cleared his throat. “No laughing. Chemtrails. Three sweeps. All major airports had embedded people to rig the planes. The pilots were none the wiser. Enough planes fly over major cities, that’s how many sweeps with the germ.”
Stanton waved out his hand. “I will not buy chemtrails. No way.”
“Then explain it.”
“God.”
Paul laughed. “And you had the audacity to ridicule my chemtrail theory.”
Leona, Myron’s grandmother stepped forward. “Gentlemen. This little informative gathering was not supposed to be a whose balls are bigger or who can guess the best. It doesn’t matter how it happened. It happened. There isn’t a cure. Find a solution. If we are stuck here, find a way out. If other places don’t have this, find them. Work on what you can do, instead of what you can’t. Involve my Bubby because he’s smart.” She patted Paul on the cheek.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Don’t dismiss God either. I won’t dismiss chemtrails whatever the piss they are.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Leona slipped back into the group and Paul humbly wrapped up, asking for help from anyone who had ideas or solutions. Everyone went back to what they were doing.
It didn’t go as well as he’d hoped and Paul was certain he hadn’t made anyone feel better.
His next order of business was to call out. Leona was right. Work on what he could do and stop worrying about what he couldn’t change or help.
The radio equipment was moved to the principal’s office. It was quieter there, and aside from the military radio, the school had a HAM. Paul settled at the radio desk, and clueless on what to do, he played with the knobs, tuning in and listening closely to the static.
He’d leave the calling out for Stanton.
Paul had been at the radio for a while when Myron excitedly approached him with the idea after the sun had set.
Paul spun his chair around. “You want to do what?”
“I want to take a couple guys and head into Mount Hallow to grab Big Bessie.”
“Who is Big Bessie?”
“Big Bessie is a what, not a who.”
“Okay, what is Big Bessie? A weapon?”
“You want an escape out of here, I got it,” Myron said. “Last year Mount Hallow christened their new fire truck Bessie. It has a one hundred and five foot extension ladder. Positioned correctly, that ladder can be the escape from the roof.”
“To go where?” Paul asked. “Not that I am doubting or criticizing your ingenuity, but where?”
“What did Tara tell you about these things? The Ragers don’t do steps, they lack the coordination to climb. Almost like their body won’t move or isn’t nimble enough. Even when they run, they don’t do steps.”
“For now.”
“Well, we aren’t clairvoyant,” Myron stated. “Okay my grandmother claims to be, but I’m not. It’s our cross walk over the infected if we get overrun. It’s our only out because let’s face it, unless we have a weapon that will take them all out or they all drop over at once, we’re stuck in here.”
“Paul!” Stanton rushed into principal’s office. “Hurry up, come here, you have got to see this!”
Paul set down the radio and followed Stanton without question. Myron trailed close behind. They went to the west wing staircase, climbing to the second floor where a ladder to the roof was waiting. Stanton climbed to the roof. Once Paul arrived, he held out his hand to Myron and they both joined Stanton on the edge.
“What? What’s going on?” Paul questioned.
Stanton took the spotlight and danced it across the crowd of infected. “Watch.”
It wasn’t systematic, it was more random. And it wasn’t a lot, but it certainly made a dent. It was continuous and making its way through the thousands of Ragers. One here, one there, but without a doubt, the infected were dropping to the ground, motionless.
Paul turned to Myron. “What was it you were saying?”
By the time they had left the hospital, it was already dark. The doctor had given Grace several doses of medication for Macy, along with instructions on what to watch for with Max. Admittedly, Grace didn’t pay attention to those.
They were kind at the hospital. Macy was given a sponge bath and cleaned up. She smelled better and even slightly resembled her ‘old’ self. With Macy wrapped in a blanket, they left the hospital in the dark. Streetlights were out and they were guided only by a single flashlight. On the way back to the house, Macy started to stir. Grace knew she was coming out of the Benadryl sleep.
Once they arrived at the house and were certain Eugene and Candice were fine, Grace took Macy to a bedroom on the upper floor, closed the door, and sat on the bed with her.
She wanted to spend some time with Macy while she was awake. Hold her, look at her, try to get some sort of reaction.
Macy was draped across Grace’s lap, clutched in her arms. Grace withheld the sedative. She’d give it to her after she spent that time. Because Grace didn’t know how much time she had left with her baby.
Macy’s hair was smooth and brushed. Her eyes stared blankly and Grace pretended they didn’t. She thought of how Macy usually was, how much life and energy the four year old girl exuded. She was different from her big sister. Candice was grounded, practical, while Macy loved fairytales and princesses. She believed in anything magical.
Grace’s heart was breaking. Though she wanted to be grateful for the time she had with her child, she couldn’t. She felt robbed.
Stroking her hair, Grace spoke softly to Macy, conveying her love, her emotions. She gripped Macy’s hand, rolling her fingers between her daughter’s tiny ones, hoping, praying, wishing with all her heart for one response. One spark of Macy.