Plague

CHAPTER 35

Ralph Wilson raced through the Hollywood International Airport in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. Several military police surrounded him, their rifles held low. The airport was busy with summer travelers and they had grown infuriated at the cancellation, at least temporarily, of all incoming and outgoing flights. The military, FBI, Homeland Security, and Fort Lauderdale Police had commandeered the building and evacuated all the patrons. The airport was now only filled with men in uniforms; Ralph was the only one in a business suit.

In one sense, it sent a shiver down his spine. He had seen what occurs when people are granted too much power. But he had also seen what happens when Mother Nature gets out of control and her attacks are not contained. It was the greater danger, and had to be stopped. At any cost.

They finally came to terminal 3 and Ralph looked out the window to see a US Airways concord landing and running the course of the tarmac before turning and slowly making its way to the terminal. It was flight 1237: Samantha Bower’s flight.

The decision not to quarantine them on the island was one Ralph had to fight for. Now they would be quarantined in a house on the outskirts of LA County and all their needs would be provided for. But he knew Sam and to a lesser extent Duncan Adams. Not to mention the dozens of other military and federal government employees that had been ordered quarantined. They would object and put up a fight. It was much better to simply drive them from the airport to the quarantine zone rather than have someone pull a favor with a Colonel and have all of them released.

But Sam, Duncan, Benjamin Cornell, one of his assistants, and Special Agent Donner had made it through. Donner was the one Ralph was most interested in. He didn’t act like a federal agent and Ralph had known dozens of federal agents in his twenty-three years as a federal employee. Ralph still had friends at the bureau; many of his military buddies had joined the bureau after serving their stints in the Armed Forces. He called a special agent in charge out of Chicago and within minutes had Billy Donner’s file emailed to him. It was identical in content to what Billy Donner had told him, except for one thing: the photograph of Special Agent William Henry Donner was not a photograph of the man Ralph had interacted with in Hawaii.

The Army’s biohazard unit rounded the corner. With the space suits, thick Kevlar gloves, and plastic faceplates, they appeared like aliens casually strolling through some intergalactic spaceport. It would have made Ralph smile if they weren’t about to forcefully detain one of his most dedicated employees.

The plane would be stopped outside of the terminal and the biohazard unit would go in and explain the situation to the passengers. It certainly wasn’t the best way to maintain calm, but he couldn’t risk any of them stepping off the plane into the airport. If the media ever found out that a possibly infected patient ever came into the airport, there’d be a shit-storm of blame-game, everyone looking to find a scapegoat, and the fault would probably land on his shoulders.

The biohazard unit walked by, one of them turning and giving a thumbs up to Ralph. He nodded in response and watched as the plane slowed and stopped at the gate. It connected to the terminal and the unit went in.

He couldn’t hear anything and so his eyes were fixated on the cockpit’s windows. The two pilots were speaking to each other as someone from the unit came in and spoke to them. There was some nodding and hand gestures, but the pilots didn’t seem terribly surprised. After 9-11, Ralph guessed, nothing surprised them.

The bus had arrived and was pulling near the plane. It would take the passengers to the makeshift medical clinic that had been thrown together on the outskirts of town. They had built it in an abandoned factory and it would have minimal staff, but they would only spend double the incubation period sequestered. No more than twenty days. Sam, Duncan, and the rest would be heading off to the mansion Ralph had lined up for their quarantine: a six bedroom home complete with swimming pool. In time, she would forgive him and understand. Perhaps with age or a couple more promotions.

The bus came to a stop next to the plane and there were several MPs in full biohazard gear outside as the Army’s biohazard unit began helping the crew disconnect from the terminal so a set of stairs could be brought to get the passengers onto the tarmac.

The passengers eventually began filing out one by one. Ralph had his eyes glued to them. The MPs had photographs of the five men and women he wanted separated from the rest. They would stop each passenger before they boarded the bus and compare the photos with the person standing in front of them.

But Ralph didn’t see them yet. A man began arguing with one of the MPs and appeared to be refusing to get on the bus. He pushed one of the MPs and they froze, uncertain what to do. One of them spoke into a comm on his shoulder.

The comm on the shoulder of the sergeant standing next to Ralph crackled to life. “Sir, he’s refusing to get on the bus. Please advise.”

The Sergeant looked to Ralph. “What do you want me to tell him?”

“Tell him to put him in cuffs and get him on the bus, Commander. If he is infected, we have to get him quarantined as quickly as possible.”

The sergeant relayed the instructions. Two MPs grabbed the man on the tarmac and spun him around as a third slapped cuffs on him. The man was fighting and yelling and kicked one of them in the shin. They took out a long plastic cord and tied his legs. They lifted and carried him, hog-tied, onto the bus. The rest of the passengers were not as difficult.

A woman stepped off the plane and climbed gingerly down the stairs. No one followed behind her.

“Where’s everybody else?” Ralph said to the sergeant.

The sergeant said into his comm, “Anybody else on that plane, Griffith?”

“No, sir. That’s all of ‘em.”

Ralph’s face grew hot. He turned and began to pace. He looked back to the plane. “Sergeant, have your men go through that entire plane. Then send some men we have in LA through the airport. Notify the LAPD too and get them looking for the five people we have missing.”

“You got it.”

Ralph walked to the glass and watched the passengers on the bus. They appeared terrified and a woman near the front was holding a young girl that was crying. He felt a twinge of remorse in his gut, but he pushed it down and turned away from the window as he took out his cell phone, and placed a call to the FBI.