Extinction Horizon

-8-

Northwestern Memorial Hospital

Chicago, Illinois

Chad Roberts sat in the backseat of the cab with a sick stomach. He’d been nauseated all day. On top of that he was exhausted. He needed a very hot cup of joe, or even better, a shot of adrenaline.

After returning home from making clinical rounds in Guinea a few days earlier, he had been looking forward to getting caught up on sleep. Instead, Deputy Director Frank had sent him straight to Chicago.

Judging by the checklist of items he still had left to work on, sleep wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Even if he could find a bed, the horrors he’d seen in the past six hours would keep him awake. The microbreak, or what they were calling an isolated outbreak in Chicago, made the one he’d seen in Guinea look like a common cold. He could only imagine what was happening on a microscopic level. Somehow the Ebola virus had mutated again, and this time, it had turned into something beyond his wildest fears.

Chad situated his backpack more comfortably on his legs. Pulling his breathing mask off his face, he checked his list. The most important item was already crossed off—the samples were already on their way to Atlanta on a modified jet used to transport Level 4 contagions. That was a relief. At least Deputy Director Frank could get his teams working on figuring out what this thing was and how to develop a treatment and eventually a vaccine.

A chirp from his phone reminded him he hadn’t looked at it in fifteen minutes. One missed call and three text messages blinked across the screen.

“Shit,” he muttered. Every time his phone buzzed, he worried it was a report of another case, but so far they had contained the infection to Northwestern Memorial Hospital.

With a sigh, he crammed his tablet into his bag and caught a glimpse of the driver in the rearview mirror. The metallic click from a gold ornament dangling beneath it reminded Chad of how superstitious the villagers in Guinea were.

Now the skeptical looks made sense. The driver, an immigrant from Somalia, eyed Chad suspiciously. In remote Africa, Western medicine was seen as witchcraft, so it was no wonder the man had glared at Chad’s CDC badge with wild eyes when he first got in the car. It was the same look the villagers in Guinea had given the white, portable biohazard facilities that popped up outside their homes. Ironically, it was their superstition that often caused the vicious outbreaks to fizzle out. Many villagers would treat their loved ones with herbal remedies and opt not to travel to one of the major population centers for modern health care, which would likely result in the outbreak spreading further. The locals’ fear of Western witchcraft had so far saved the world from the reaches of the Ebola virus. Until now. Now the virus had popped up in one of the most populated areas in North America.

The thought was terrifying, and the sight of Northwestern Memorial Hospital chilled Chad to the core as the car stopped outside the emergency entrance. He still couldn’t believe what was happening. Not only had the virus mutated, but the victims were displaying violent behavior, in some cases mutilating themselves or even feeding on their own flesh or attacking others. Many of them appeared to also be suffering from hallucinations. He’d seen that symptom before, but not at the beginning stages of infection. Typically such cases only occurred when the brain had suffered damage from lack of oxygen or internal hemorrhaging.

That was the most confusing part. The incubation period was damn near instantaneous. He’d seen this when one of the Homeland Security officers from O’Hare had bitten a nurse. She’d dropped to the floor, gripping her arm, and suddenly started seizing. In under an hour, the hemorrhaging had started. He’d never seen Ebola work so fast, and the violent behavior made no sense. It was like the virus had possessed the victim, which he knew was nearly impossible.

He shook the thoughts from his mind and climbed out of the car, thanking the driver and handing him a twenty-dollar bill. The man hesitated, regarding it as if it might be laced with poison, before snatching it from Chad’s hands.

Chief of Staff Sam Marks waited for Chad at the entrance to the Emergency room, his foot tapping nervously on the concrete. The short bald man smiled nervously, his immaculately trimmed mustache curving around his lips.

When they’d met earlier, Sam had assured him that they were prepared to handle the microbreak. Like the cab driver, Chad was skeptical. He’d ordered the hospital to set up an entire wing for quarantine immediately upon his arrival, but he knew right away that it was delusional to think the staff was prepared for such an event. They’d likely only been trained a handful of times on how to deal with a Level 4 virus. Northwestern was the highest ranked hospital in the city, but even they didn’t have the proper equipment to deal with such a contagious virus.

“We have everything locked down, Dr. Roberts. Just like the emergency operations plan explained.”

“That’s great. Help is on the way,” Chad replied. He followed Sam down the hallway toward the quarantined wing of the hospital.

“Uh, when exactly do you think it will arrive?” the chief of staff asked. He sounded uneasy, much more so than when Chad had first arrived.

“Soon,” he said. “In the meantime, I want to see the initial case, the man that was shot at the airport.”

“Very well. This way, doctor.”

They navigated the hallways in silence until they came upon the isolation section of the hospital. A wall of glass separated them from the three infected corpses on metal gurneys. Inside, a man in a blue biohazard suit examined the bodies. It was Ted Lucas, another CDC doctor that specialized in filo viruses and had an obsession with diseases, specifically the worst kind. Chad wasn’t sure what to think of him, having only worked with him a handful of times. He’d heard Ted was an adrenaline junkie, and he was rumored to take unnecessary risks in the field. If true, the man was his exact opposite, considering Chad prided himself on the precautions he took.

Tapping on the window, Chad pressed a button to activate the communication system. “Just got back from O’Hare.”

Ted tilted his blue helmet toward them. “Any leads on this guy?” he said, pulling back the white blanket over one of the corpses. Chad could see right away it was the man from the airport. The top of his skull was missing. A result of being shot at close range by the second batch of cops that had arrived. The victim’s mouth bulged, his lips swollen and white. He would be hard to ID even with a photo.

“We think he came from a Navy flight that originated from San Nicholas Island,” Chad said. “If that’s the case, then we should be able to locate his baggage and identification soon.”

“Understood,” Ted replied.

Sam stood awkwardly close to Chad, watching Ted work with an odd expression. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

“Not quite,” Chad replied. His mouth twisted to the right. “I’m pretty sure this is Ebola. But it has to be a new strain. One we have never seen.”

Sam nodded while keeping his focus on Ted. “The victims are like—”

“Zombies?” Chad said, finishing the chief of staff’s sentence for him.

“I didn’t want to say it earlier,” Sam said. “These people are obviously alive, but my God, they’re like the flesh eaters we see on TV.”

“Actually, they’re worse,” Chad replied. “Zombies don’t think. They aren’t alive. That’s why it’s vital we keep this section of the hospital on lockdown until more help arrives. No one leaves. No one gets in without my approval.” He watched Sam’s mustache begin to move but something caught the man’s attention down the hall.

Chad flinched at the sudden sound of glass shattering. A current of anxiety rushed through him when he heard the screams. His heart fluttered. He knew exactly what the noises meant.

At the far end of the hall, a female patient lay on the floor, a halo of glass surrounding her twisted body. The two police officers Sam had posted outside the isolation rooms ran toward her, their weapons drawn. “Don’t move,” one of them shouted.

The woman slowly rose into a crouching position while tilting her head to the side. A curtain of hair fell over her face, making it impossible to tell which patient she was. Blood trickled down her chin and plopped onto the cold floor. Chad narrowed in on it. That single ounce of bodily fluid was extremely contagious.

“Stop her!” Sam yelled. He took a step back, smacking into Chad as the woman craned her head in their direction. She pawed the hair out of her face, the broken straps from her restraints hanging loosely at her wrists. It was then Chad saw the blood oozing from her crazed eyes.

“Oh my God,” Sam sputtered, his voice floundering. He backed against the glass window, where Chad could see Ted trying to get a better view.

Before the officers could fire off a shot, the woman plunged forward, the joints in her legs clicking as she burst across the floor on all fours. She moved with impressive speed, the blue of her gown blurring as she tackled the policeman closest to her. Chad had never seen anyone move like that, and he’d never heard joints snap like that either. The woman was transforming right in front of his eyes.

The second officer pulled her off his partner. He held her squirming in the air with his thick arms.

“Restrain her,” Sam yelled.

Chad watched in horror as the woman frantically kicked out of his grasp; a swift foot to the cop’s genitals finally sent him crumpling to the ground. The second officer seized the opportunity to jam his Taser into her spine. The jolt of electricity sent her tumbling to the ground. He drew his handcuffs and reached for her flailing arms. When he finally grabbed a wrist, she jerked her head and released a black stream of projectile vomit in his face.

Stumbling, the officer pawed at the slimy blood in his eyes. The woman wasted no time. She straddled him, wrapping her arms tightly around his back before biting his nose off.

Chad ran for the exit. He didn’t need to see anymore to know what was about to happen. With the officers compromised, the entire wing would fall. He had to seal off the room. There was no helping any of these people. They had to stop the virus here, before it was too late.

When he got to the double doors he halted, realizing he’d left Ted behind.

“What are you waiting for?” Sam yelled, holding the door open with his right foot. “We can’t help them!”

A sound like several balloons popping echoed down the hall as one of the officers fired their weapon. Chad flinched at the sound and then slipped through the opening, locking the door behind them. “I’m sorry, Ted,” he said under his breath.

Kate could hear the CNN reporters discussing the mysterious virus on the television in the background, but she wasn’t listening. Not anymore. She’d stopped the moment they referred to the outbreak as “the zombie apocalypse.”

The scare tactic would do nothing but instigate more fear. It might boost their ratings for the evening, but the adverse effects would ripple through Chicago. Mass panic would ensue. She’d seen hot zones in the world fall apart from news reports that were much less threatening.

She pulled her phone from her pocket, aching to hear from Javier. Where the hell was he? They were accustomed to not talking for days, but surely he’d seen her message by now.

The vibration of Michael’s phone startled her back to reality. She watched the black device rattle slowly across the table. They’d waited all evening for Colonel Gibson to call them back.

Michael snatched the phone off the table. “This is Dr. Allen,” he said. “Yes, I’ve heard. I’m going to put you on speaker so Dr. Lovato can listen in.”

Pressing the screen, he then put the phone on the table and said, “Okay, can you hear us?”

“We have a hell of a situation on our hands,” Gibson said. “We’re in the process of deploying all of our resources to Chicago. FEMA has called up their emergency assets, the Governor of Illinois has declared a state of emergency, and he has activated the National Guard.”

“I really would like to know what the hell is going on,” Michael said. “I still don’t know where Dr. Ellis is.”

“He’s en route to Fort Bragg,” Gibson replied.

“What? Why?” Kate blurted.

“What I’m about to tell you is top secret, although I’m sure the news media will get ahold of their version of the story in the coming days,” Gibson said. Static crackled over the speakers and his voice cut out. When it came back on, he said, “I’m about to board a chopper. Might be a bit shaky on reception for a few minutes.”

Michael frowned and reached for the phone, pulling it closer to them.

“When USAMRIID activated the EOC two days ago, it was due to a situation at Building 8 on San Nicholas Island. I was told that one of our scientists, a Dr. Medford, was experimenting with VX-99, a chemical weapon used in Vietnam.”

Michael gasped. “I thought the stockpile was destroyed!”

“Not the entire stockpile,” Gibson said. “Medford seemed to believe he could use VX-99 to destroy the Ebola virus, but before he could send us the data, the facility went dark. We lost all communication with Building 8. Normally we’d have sent our own team, but there was simply too much at stake. We called in a Delta Force team. Your man, Dr. Ellis, was added to the mission due to protocol. I included two of my own scientists to help the operators gain access to the facility. They were supposed to get in, retrieve a sample of Medford’s work, and get out. Things obviously didn’t go down like that.”

“Is Ellis okay?” Michael said. His voice sounded strained, deviating from his typical calm demeanor. Kate realized this was no longer a conversation between old friends.

“He’s fine. Our team cleared him hours ago. He’ll be back in Atlanta by the time you wake up tomorrow. The same can’t be said for two of my staff. They didn’t make it out, and neither did several of the Delta operators. I’ve seen the videos. Building 8 was compromised. Dr. Medford was infected with his own creation.”

“How the hell did it get to Chicago?” Michael asked.

“On a layover flight. A scientist from Building 8 named Jim Pinkman was on his way here to brief me.”

“I need to know what we are dealing with here,” Kate interjected. “What is VX-99? What chemical did Medford use?”

“We don’t know. That’s why we sent Delta in to retrieve a sample.”

“So we don’t even know what we’re dealing with?”

“No, Dr. Lovato, I’m afraid we don’t. All data and records relating to VX-99 were destroyed. Except it appears that Dr. Medford secured a sample of the chemical and used it in his experiments at Building 8.”

Kate felt like she was going to throw up. How had this happened? How the hell had Dr. Medford made such a fatal error? And why had Gibson kept this a secret until now? Was he hiding something else? The events had all created a perfect cocktail for the deadliest virus the world had ever seen.

She jerked, startled as her pocket rumbled from the vibration of her cell. She quickly pulled it from her jeans and looked at the screen to see a text from Javier that read, How are things at the CDC, sis? The news is scaring me.

Kate slowly slipped the phone under the table and typed a text that read, I’m fine. Are you okay?

The hissing of wind crackled over the line.

“I have to go,” Gibson said. “But Dr. Allen, I need you to—”

The call dropped before the colonel could finish his sentence.

“Dammit!” Michael shouted. He slapped the table with his right palm.

Kate stared in shock at her friend and mentor. She’d never seen him lose control. Not like this.

His voice returned to the same cold systematic tone. “Kate, this could be it.”

“What?”

His eyes narrowed and she suddenly felt exposed, like he was looking right through her.

“The extinction event. The one you wrote about in your thesis.”

She shook her head. “No, we can stop it.”

Her phone buzzed again, and she pulled it out of her pocket. Another text from Javier blinked across the screen. Things are bad here. What kind of virus is this? They are saying it’s turning people into zombies.