He passed plenty of soldiers and medics, but nobody looked twice at the ambulance. The lights above Soldier Field were on, and it almost felt like a preseason game in the late summer. The lack of sound made Tommy wonder if everybody was in the parking lots underground. He’d taken Kimmy to a Bears game a few years earlier, and he’d wanted to make it a big deal, so he’d borrowed his parent’s old Chevy, instead of taking the bus. Of course, the parking lot alone had cost him almost a week of wages, but he wanted to do it for Kimmy. They’d been amazed at how many levels had been built under the stadium. “Any deeper, and we’re gonna start seeing dinosaurs,” Tommy had said. This was back when Kimmy thought he was funny.
He drove between the stadium and the Field Museum, navigating through military trucks and Humvees. He saw a few other ambulances sitting around, so he tried not to panic when he rolled up to the barricade. Before he had a chance to try the siren and lights, a soldier in a hazmat suit was standing in front of the ambulance, motioning for Tommy to stop.
Tommy didn’t have much of a choice. He was surrounded by entire platoons of soldiers, by those giant tank things, and he didn’t think he’d make it ten feet if he tried to ram through the barricade.
He threw his elbow into the window frame, and leaned out, so the soldier wouldn’t be able to see his bloody legs. “I gotta get through,” Tommy said before the soldier could say anything. “There’s been an accident.”
“Nobody notified me,” the soldier said. He unclipped his handheld device, checked it.
“Shit, you think they’re worried about notifying everybody when there’s an accident?”
“I haven’t heard anything.”
“Look, man, I don’t know what to tell you. I’m just doing what I’m told. Said they needed me immediately. Something happened near the press conference.”
“Who gave you the orders?”
“Dr. Reischtal,” Tommy said without thinking.
“Who?”
“Jesus, pal. You want me to do your job for you? I gotta get fucking moving, you know?”
“Who gave the order?” the soldier asked again.
“I told you. Dr. Reischtal.”
The soldier touched his throat mike. “Need a confirmation at the gate. Got an order from a Dr. Reischtal. Anybody under that name in the database?”
Tommy shook his head. “Fuck, dude. No rush. Might be the difference between life and death, you know?”
The soldier ignored Tommy. He listened intently. “Oh. No shit. Do you have that number? Can we call and confirm this?”
“Yes, yes, give him a call!” Tommy shouted. “In the meantime, let me go, so I can do my job. Jesus Christ, what, you think I’m gonna go in there and rob the banks or something?”
The soldier didn’t know what to do. On one hand, he wanted to follow protocol, but on the other, he was expected to think on his feet. The name of Reischtal not only checked out, it elicited serious respect and no small amount of fear. If he held the ambulance driver up, and stopped him from getting to the scene of an accident in time to save lives, then he would be responsible. And if he let him go, what could one man in an ambulance do when downtown was full of solders? Who would want to try and break in to the Loop anyway? He should be worrying instead about waiting for clearance when the ambulance came back.
“Fine, fine. But in the meantime, I’ll be contacting Dr. Reischtal.”
“You do that, pal. But can you move, now?”
The soldier gestured at the driver of one of the CTA buses, who pulled forward just enough to let the ambulance slip through. Once he was tearing down Lake Shore Drive, the lights of the skyline twinkling through the trees, Tommy pumped his fist and grinned like a madman. He couldn’t believe it. He felt like a genius for mentioning Dr. Reischtal. The fear that man cultivated was a goddamn two-edged sword.
He was a hundred yards away from the barricade when they started shooting at the ambulance.
CHAPTER 69
8:47 PM
August 14
There was still a chance, Dr. Menard told himself. Still a chance that the bug hadn’t bitten him. And even if it had, there was still a chance that it didn’t carry the virus. He didn’t believe it, not really, but he still insisted that a chance was a chance, no matter how small. If he lost hope, then what?
He had almost convinced himself that he might not be infected when he felt more movement in the small of his back. He squirmed around, trying to slap back there and rip his lab coat away at the same time. More bugs fell off of his coat and onto his hands. He whipped off the coat and to his horror, saw that a dozen or more bugs were crawling over it.
He screamed then, an inarticulate howl of rage and despair. He slammed backwards into the driver’s seat, trying to smash the bugs. The soft leather absorbed the impact, and the bugs didn’t notice. Several of them crawled down into his pants, travelling down along the crease between his buttocks.
Dr. Menard shot up, jammed his right hand back there, and raked his fingernails up through his butt crack. He scraped up three or four of the bugs the way a snowplow might collect a family of dead possums, but it was over. The bugs had gotten into the bus. They were on the floor, under the seat, crawling across the dashboard, everywhere.
Dr. Menard’s chance was gone.
He pulled the jump drive out of his pocket and stared at it. He’d fought his way through so much to get this information out to the public, only to have it end now. He had half a mind to get out and walk to the top of the stadium and throw the damn thing over the side. Maybe someday, someone would find it and give it to the proper authorities. He figured if he started up to the edge, they might shoot him before he got that far, but what else could he do?
He didn’t even have a phone. And even if he could find one, it wouldn’t help. The jump drive used a full-size USB connector, and Dr. Menard had never seen a phone with a port that large. He sat up straighter for a moment, reaching out to grab the steering wheel. Phones couldn’t take a jump drive, but laptops . . .
He jumped out, ignoring the bugs that still were crawling on him. If he could just manage to find someone with a laptop, one that could connect to the Internet on its own, or maybe even the stadium had their own local Wi-Fi that he could tap into. He couldn’t remember seeing any bags on the prison bus, so he ran around to other side of the closest bus and kicked open the doors.
Somebody growled from under the bus. People were waking up.
Dr. Menard jumped onboard. At first, the bus looked empty. He took another step, bent down, saw the sleepers. They were all either curled up on the seat or had fallen asleep hiding underneath the seats. A lot of them had bags. He started through the bus, testing the satchels and backpacks, weighing them, sizing them up for a laptop.
Dr. Menard had accepted the clear outcome of being bitten. He knew, on an immediate level, that he was infected and would likely die within a few days. Of course, he didn’t truly understand the implications of his death, he hadn’t had the time to sit and contemplate. He only understood that he had a few hours left to make a difference. If he could find a laptop with the right connections, the evidence, all the lists of names, pictures, and even video of the test subjects waking from the deep sleep could be transmitted, and even if he was gone, it could have a lasting impact. He had a catalog of every horrific act inside the hospital, with all kinds of helpful information like names, dates, lab work, and it would crucify those responsible.
He might be dying, but the information could live forever, if he could find the right laptop. He kept dragging bags out from the seats, until he came across one guy who had a laptop in a satchel still wrapped around his shoulders.