Jack and the others couldn’t hear the response because the man held the radio up to his ear. They saw him nod a few times, then verbally agree before signing off with the typical “over and out.”
He came directly over to the group. His face was mostly hidden by the glare of the clear plastic face mask.
“All of you are to leave the house,” he said. “In the alleyway, turn to the left. Pass under the caution tape. That divides this hot area from the warm area beyond. Where the alley joins Oceanview Avenue you will see a decon tent. It’s red; you can’t miss it. They will be waiting for you.”
The group got to their feet and started toward the front door.
“Thank you,” Laurie said to the man, but he didn’t respond. He was already on his way back through the kitchen on his way to the basement.
“Man, they are serious,” Warren commented as they walked down the front walk.
“For good reason,” Jack said. “This is the real thing. New York could be seeing casualties in the tens of thousands, if not more.”
“Shit, man,” Flash complained. “I told you guys this Yuri was a bad mother. You should have let me come out here and taken care of him.”
“He had a gun,” Jack said. “And he didn’t seem too reluctant to use it.”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have come out here empty-handed neither.”
As the group walked they couldn’t help notice that the whole area was deserted. They saw no one, not even any dogs.
“This is kinda weird,” Warren said. “Like we’re all alone.”
Just as the group had been advised, they found a red tent in the middle of a completely deserted avenue.
“Where did everybody go so fast?” Warren questioned.
“I don’t think they had any trouble getting people to leave,” Jack said. “People are terrified of contagion. I shudder to think of the panic in lower Manhattan right now.”
“It reminds me of an old science fiction movie,” Flash said. “I think it was called The Day the Earth Stood Still.”
The group was greeted by a small team of people in lower-level biocontainment dress than those in Yuri’s house. The person in charge was a woman who introduced herself as Carolyn Jacobs. She had the group strip and stand under makeshift showers of weak bleach solution where they were forced to scrub themselves. Then, after dressing in government-issue coveralls, they were immunized against anthrax and started on a course of ciprofloxacin.
“Man, I never expected all this,” Warren complained.
“You should feel thankful for the vaccine,” Jack said. “They don’t have a lot of it, and I’m sure they are going to run out in Manhattan. There’s no way there’s enough for everyone.”
The flap covering the entrance-to the decon tent was suddenly pulled aside. In walked a lean, clean-cut, martial-appearing African-American man in his thirties. He was dressed in an orange jumpsuit with the acronym CIRG on his left upper arm. Sewn above a zippered breast pocket was a name tag: Agent Marcus Williams.
“I’m looking for Dr. Stapleton and Dr. Montgomery,” he said crisply.
Jack raised his hand. “I’m Stapleton.”
“I’m Dr. Montgomery,” Laurie said.
“Excellent,” Marcus said. “Would you come with me?”
Jack and Laurie immediately got to their feet.
“What about us?” Warren questioned.
Jack looked at Marcus and raised his eyebrows.
“Your name, sir?” Marcus asked Warren.
“Warren Wilson, and this is Frank Thomas.” Warren pointed at Flash. Flash raised his hand.
“Sorry, I have no orders for you people,” Marcus said. “I would assume you should remain here.”
“Damn,” Warren said. “Doc, make sure they don’t forget us.”
“Don’t worry,” Jack said.
Jack and Laurie emerged back out in the daylight. They had to hustle to catch up with Marcus, who’d strode off toward the waterfront.
“Where are we going?” Jack asked.
“I’m to escort you back to the temporary command center,” Marcus said.
“Where is that?” Jack asked.
“Lower Manhattan,” Marcus said. “In a trailer in front of City Hall.”
“Can we slow down a little?” Laurie questioned. She was having to run every couple of steps.
“I was to get you back there ASAP,” Marcus said.
“What’s happening in the city?” Jack asked.
“I’m not privy to the latest developments,” Marcus said. “There is a lot of chaos.”
“I can imagine,” Jack said.
“Are you FBI?” Laurie asked.
“I am,” Marcus said.
“What does CIRG stand for?” Laurie asked.
“Critical Incident Response Group,” Marcus said. “We’re specially trained to handle NBC incidents.”
Laurie looked at Jack. She hated acronyms, especially when the definition of one led to yet another.
“That’s nuclear, biological, and chemical,” Jack explained.
Laurie nodded.
They crossed a mostly deserted Brighton Beach Avenue and passed under the el, which was part of the New York City subway system. A spiderweb of yellow caution tape blocked one of the entrances. Jack suspected that the transit system had been shut down.
After another block they came to the waterfront. Setting on the beach and boardwalk were a number of helicopters with various markings. Marcus headed for one of the smaller ones. It was an FBI Bell Jet Ranger.
He opened the door and motioned for Jack and Laurie to climb into the back. The pilot was already starting the rotors. Marcus made sure the doctors donned headsets to permit conversation.
After they’d gotten airborne, the trip to Manhattan was shockingly short, particularly for Jack, who was aware how long it had taken him on his bike the day before. The pilot landed on the green in front of City Hall. The makeshift helipad was cordoned off by firemen in hazmat suits. As the aircraft descended, the chaos that Marcus had mentioned was painfully apparent to both Jack and Laurie. In contrast to the deserted calm of Brighton Beach, there were crowds of panicky people streaming west, heading into the wind. Parked along Broadway were a number of National Guard trucks. The soldiers in protective gear had disembarked, but they were aimlessly milling about with their rifles in their hands, apparently unsure of their role.
“When the initial announcement was made, there was mass panic,” Marcus explained. “The police thought they’d be able to control it, but they couldn’t.”
Jack shook his head. Pandemonium was only going to make the situation that much worse, with contaminated people mixing with those initially uncontaminated.
Marcus didn’t wait for the rotors to stop. He opened the door and motioned for Jack and Laurie to disembark. He set off at the same rapid pace that had left Laurie behind in Brighton Beach. Jack and Laurie ran to catch up.
The construction trailer that was serving as the field command post had been placed in the plaza in front of City Hall, about six city blocks directly south of the Jacob Javits Federal Building. In that location it was safe from contamination since the day’s moderate wind was blowing from the southwest, vectoring to the northeast.
Marcus opened the door. Emanating from the interior was a loud babble of voices coming from a milling confusion of Department of Health officials, police, FBI agents, firemen, and Department of Defense officers. The Department of Defense personnel were from the army’s USAMRIID, the Marines’ CBIRF, and an interservice unit designated as CBQRF. Laurie knew that USAMRIID stood for the United States Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Disease, but she had no idea what the other two abbreviations stood for.