Decimation Series (Book 1): Contagion Page 12

  He called for a nurse, and, after disinfecting the cuts and administering an anesthetic, he put exactly nineteen stitches into my right hand; he coated them in a thin layer of petroleum jelly and wrapped my hand in bandages. He had me go through a range of motions with my hand and fingers, and said he feared I might have some nerve damage when it all healed, but remarkably none of the tendons seemed to have been damaged.

  He tried to give me some pills for the pain that would come, and I declined. He shook his head and seemed somewhat apologetic for what my hand was going to look like after it healed, but I didn’t mind.

  A little while later, another soldier showed up in a golf cart with a trailer and told us he was taking us to our quarters. He instructed us to load our packs into the trailer, and shortly we were zipped away,

  Our quarters turned out to be another hotel right around the corner. We were led inside, where our clipboard was handed off to yet another soldier who was stationed at the front desk. Yet again we confirmed our personal information and were given room keys and directions to our quarters as well as a map of the compound and directions to the common shower area. There was no water pressure in any of the buildings, so we had to collect water in jugs from the lobby to take to the room to use for washing and flushing the toilets.

  I thanked him as I took the room keys.

  I thought to myself that Kevin would have tried to tip him, just for fun. I smiled sadly, my eyes tearing up a little.

  Now, lying on my bed in my room, I lay with my eyes open, staring at nothing.

  I could hear Alex and Jamie in their room arguing over who got the bed closest to the window. After a few minutes, they came to a solution. It sounded like they were going to take turns kicking each other in the nuts, and whoever called quits first, lost. Now they were arguing over who got to kick first.

  We had electricity, which I assumed was thanks to a generator I had been able to hear running out the back as we were led inside. I thought longingly about going to take a shower in the common area tent outside, but I was simply too weary.

  I sat up and went over to the spare bed where the backpacks were. Hesitantly, feeling almost like I didn’t have the right, I opened Kevin’s pack and took out one of his sweaters. My hand throbbed in agony, and I wrapped Kevin’s sweater around it.

  I sat back on my bed, his sweater in my hands. I realized it was what he had been wearing that morning in the cafe in Paris when he had caught me texting. I remembered the hurtful and hateful words we had thrown at each other. My God, how could I have said those things to him, I asked myself. How could I have done those things? Fresh tears spilled from my eyes.

  I lifted his sweater to my nose, burying my face in it. I breathed in. He had a special scent, one that I had always loved, but I had forgotten it somehow. He didn’t wear cologne and never had, but he had a smell that was just him. It wasn’t something anyone else would ever recognize, but I knew it and it was him.

  I closed my eyes and breathed in slowly, inhaling his scent, taking in everything that I had left of him, and I breathed out all my anguish and sorrow and regret.

  ♦♦♦

  A knock on the door woke me. I was curled on my bed in a ball, using Kevin’s sweater as a pillow. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, looking out the window. Outside the late afternoon sun was painting everything with a warm orange brush. I must have slept for hours. I didn’t hear the boys next door, so figured they must either be sleeping or off exploring.

  The knock came again, more insistent this time.

  I got up from the bed and rubbed my eyes. I didn’t even want to think about what I looked like, so I avoided looking at the mirror as I walked to the door.

  I opened it and saw Corporal Kelley standing there.

  “Good evening Mrs. Hayes,” he said, nodding respectfully at me. “I hope you’re getting settled in alright?”

  I agreed that we were and thanked him for the rooms.

  “My CO would like to have a moment of your time, if you’re free?” he asked.

  “Of course,” I replied after a moment of hesitation, surprised. “Just give me a second to leave a note for the boys.” I went to the desk in the room and, grabbing a hotel pen and notepad, scrawled a quick note to the twins that I was going with Cpl. Kelley and would be back later.

  I followed him down the stairwell to the ground floor. Most of the lights in the hotel might be working, but the elevators weren’t. They had enough juice for the basics, he explained, but not for the luxuries.

  We walked into the Holiday Inn and approached the front desk. A soldier stationed there waved us in when Cpl. Kelley told them we were there to see Capt. Meyers.

  As we walked along a hallway leading to the command centre, he glanced down to my freshly-bandaged hand.

  “Doc Connor told me your hand was quite a mess, if you don’t mind me saying so Ma’am,” he said, nodding at the fresh bandages on my hand. “He also said you didn’t want anything for the pain.” I detected a note of respect in his voice.

  I looked down at my bandages, my hand throbbing in white hot flashes of pain, and I shrugged; I told him I figured I had gotten off easy.

  He nodded, understanding. I think he got it. If anyone knew about survivor’s-guilt, it was these guys.

  At the end of the hall, Cpl. Kelley knocked on a door and, after hearing a voice inside telling him to enter, opened it and walked in motioning me to follow him.

  ♦♦♦

  Cpl. Kelley stood at attention and awaited his superior’s acknowledgment. Behind the desk, the man stood and nodded.

  “Capt. Meyers,” said Cpl. Kelley, “Mrs. Hayes.”

  Meyers nodded, thanked and dismissed Kelley.

  Kelley turned on his heel and, nodding to me as he left, exited the room closing the door behind him.

  Capt. Meyers came out from behind his desk, his right hand extended.

  “Mrs. Hayes, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, shaking my hand. He stepped back and motioned to a chair in front of his desk. “Please,” he said.

  I thanked him and sat down. He offered me a drink of water, which I gladly accepted.

  He walked back behind his desk and sat down.

  On the desk in front of him was a manila file folder with several pages inside. Without saying anything, he returned his attention to the papers in front of him, and continued reading.

  I sipped from my plastic bottle, grateful for the silence.

  I guessed Capt. Meyers to be in his late fifties, his once-dark crisply-trimmed hair well fading into salt-and-pepper grey (with more salt than pepper), but he moved like a man much younger. He was of average height and had a slim, lean appearance.

  After a moment, he closed the folder and pushed it aside, looking up at me.

  “Please accept my sincere condolences for the loss of your husband,” he said.

  I sipped from my water again, swallowed back my tears, and nodded my thanks. Right now I wanted Kevin beside me, but I was alone.

  He tapped the folder beside him. “I understand your group was abroad during the outbreak,” he said, and looked up at me.

  I nodded my agreement. “We were,” I said, “our flight arrived in Toronto from Zurich when news of the outbreak became public knowledge.” I didn’t bother to elaborate since I was confident he knew everything we had already related since our arrival.

  Still looking at my file, he nodded thoughtfully.

  “That’s something we have in common,” he said, standing and walking over to the window overlooking the front gate. “Our entire battalion was stationed overseas when the SHTF back home.”

  He smiled at my blank stare.

  “Sorry, force of habit. Us old soldiers love our acronyms. ‘Shit hit the fan,’ if you’ll pardon the expression. We were recalled four days ago; we have been tasked with establishing this base with instructions to provide support capacity for upwards of ten thousand civilians if needed. Regretfully it appears we are vastly over prepared in this regard.”<
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  “Is this everywhere?” I asked, afraid of the answer.

  “It’s not everywhere, but it’s extensive throughout North America,” he replied. “A significant majority of the American population has been affected, as well as most Canadian cities in any kind of proximity to US centres of population.” He didn’t need to mention that most major Canadian cities were located close to the border. He didn’t need to tell me that ‘significant majority’ translated into tens of millions of people, maybe hundreds of millions. There was no way I could wrap my head around it.

  I told him what we had seen on our travels, the packs of infected, but that I couldn’t understand why there weren’t more of them.

  “Based on the information we’re getting from command, and from what we’ve seen here in the field, if left unassisted after infection roughly seventy to eighty percent of them will simply expire on their own due to asphyxiation.” Choking to death on their own mucus, in other words, I thought, and I shuddered.

  He nodded grimly.

  “It’s a horrible ending,” he agreed, “but if there’s any silver lining it’s that we’re left with a significantly more manageable threat level from the infected that are still out there.”

  I nodded, understanding.

  “What about out west?” I asked. “Have you heard anything about what’s happening in Saskatchewan?”

  “As far as the illness goes, I’m told that Saskatchewan is faring well, comparatively. I understand you have family back there?”

  “My children and Kevin’s parents,” I said, nodding. Everyone I had in the world was out there, I thought to myself, and suddenly felt very alone. I couldn’t stop the tears.

  He gave me a moment to collect myself. Meyers stoically handed me a box of tissues, which I took with thanks, and a moment later I wiped my eyes dry.

  “That brings me to the purpose for requesting this meeting, Ma’am,” he said to me, returning to his seat behind his desk.

  “We’re preparing a supply convoy I will be heading that will be leaving in two days, heading west. The convoy will be stopping at CFB Shilo in Manitoba, and then carrying on west to CFB Suffield near Medicine Hat. We’ll be heading straight through Regina on our route west, and we would like to offer you and the young men you’re traveling with an escort home.”

  ♦♦♦

  I found the twins in the cafeteria that had been set up in a massive tent in the parking lot of a large waterfront shopping mall across from our hotel.

  After my meeting with Capt. Meyers had ended, I had returned to my hotel room to find the brothers gone. The soldier at the front desk was kind enough to show me on my map where the common areas such as the cafeterias were and suggested that’s where I might find them.

  There were hundreds of people in the room, mostly civilians but many soldiers as well. It took me by surprise; it was the first time since leaving the airport that I had seen a group of people that weren’t infected.

  The boys were sitting at a table with several soldiers around their age, including, I saw unhappily, Private Reed.

  I motioned them over to me, sitting down at an empty table nearby.

  I told them about my meeting with Capt. Meyers, and their eyes lit up with the news.

  “Seriously?” Jamie exclaimed, looking at me in excitement, and then to his brother. “How did you manage to arrange that?”

  I looked around the room and pointed to a table not far from where the boys had been sitting with Private Reed. “I didn’t,” I said. “He did.”

  Corporal Kelley saw me pointing in his direction and nodded to us with a small smile. He stood with his tray of food and walked over to us, asking if he could join us, to which we all agreed enthusiastically.

  “I’m guessing Capt. Meyers gave you the news?” he asked with a smile, taking a sip from his coffee.

  “He did,” I replied, “I don’t know how to thank you!” I looked around the room at the hundreds of civilians present. “But why do we warrant such special treatment? Surely almost everyone here has a home and family elsewhere, why are we getting a free ride?”

  “Simply good luck, Mrs. Hayes,” he replied after taking a bite of his lunch. “This supply train has been scheduled for days, and you won’t be the only civilians thumbing a ride along with us. A couple more days and you would have missed out, I’m afraid.

  “We have a dozen or so groups who will be accompanying us on the trip headed west,” he continued between bites, making sure to politely chew with his mouth closed, “we’re arranging for anyone here who might be heading that direction to come with us, if they want. Our company is making the trip, including my section. Several of us have family out west also.” Until now I hadn’t considered that these men were essentially in the same situation as we were: they were away from home and family, but unlike me, their duty kept them from being able to go home no matter how much they would want to.

  “We’re going to have an orientation briefing tomorrow at 0800 hours for the people making the journey with us, following which will be a mandatory basic firearms safety instruction. Capt. Meyers thought it prudent in the interest of safety, yours and ours, since you’ll have your firearms returned to you for the trip.”

  He didn’t say that the thought of a bunch of civilians in a tense situation walking around with loaded guns and no idea how to use them scared him; he didn’t need to.

  It scared me too.

  I thought sardonically about how quickly my liberal approach to firearms had changed in the event of this crisis.

  A week ago, the thought of sitting through instruction in firearms use from soldiers would have sounded like torture to me, but today it sounded like a fantastic idea. If I had been comfortable using a gun and had been carrying one this morning in the house on Lighthouse Point, maybe Kevin would still be alive here with me.

  The thought of Kevin’s death deflated me again and brought me to the verge of tears.

  I thanked him once again for his help in making this happen and told them I was going to take a walk before returning to my room. As I left, I saw that the boys stayed to chat excitedly with him, mostly likely asking about the trip; I certainly preferred them visiting with him over Private Reed.

  ♦♦♦

  It was full dark outside, and a heavy, wet fog had settled into the area coming off the river, making it feel colder than it was. Most of the buildings in the compound were dark also, with the exception of the ones in use by the army and the civilians. Only one in three street lights were lit, likely to help preserve electricity, providing enough light to see where you were walking, but still much darker than a born and bred city girl like me was used to.

  I stopped in the doorway of a building that had its lights on and looked at the map the soldier at the desk had given me. The area they had secured as this compound wasn’t big: it was huge. They had used the natural borders of the waterfront on the south and the border bridge leading south to the US on the west, and so had only needed to build half as much wall as they would have otherwise. This also gave them control over the border crossing at the bridge from Michigan only a thousand or so yards south across the river. Looking across the river in darkness, I didn’t see any lights so it didn’t look like the American military had any presence there, at least not that I could see in the fog.

  The compound wall extended first east and then curved southeast as it followed Queen Street all the way to the stadium and the hotels where we had entered. My guess was it was almost two kilometres long, and looked like it had shopping malls, restaurants, office buildings, and even a casino within its perimeter. Most of the area was designated as “restricted” in red on my map, meaning military only, but there was still no shortage of areas open to civilians, including trails along the waterfront.

  As I walked along in the semi-darkness, I could occasionally hear gunfire ringing out at the gates. When we had been brought into the compound this afternoon, after the soldiers had shot the crowd of infected at the gate, I h
ad asked if that was the only way to deal with them. Corporal Kelley had advised that they were only firing on the ones that threatened the access gates to keep it clear for incoming civilians, like us. Elsewhere along the wall, and at the bridge coming up from the US, they hadn’t been shooting them yet, they just let them amass along the wall. It was the “yet” that stuck with me.

  It turned my stomach to think these were just sick people, people just like me, like Kevin, like the twins, but unfortunate enough to have been afflicted by this horrible illness that made them lose all control, and that the only solution was to be shot down in the street. But I also had come to have some small understanding of the scope of what was happening, and knew in all likelihood, for the infected, a bullet might be a mercy.

  The outbreak had only happened five, or maybe six, days ago. I didn’t know what kind of awareness or survival instincts the infected would have, with their thought processes apparently reduced to sheer rage and fury, as it appeared from what we had seen. Would they be able to take care of their most basic needs, such as finding water, food and shelter? I didn’t know, but nothing we had seen so far made me think that they could. That meant the harsh reality was that the army likely didn’t even need to use bullets to deal with the problem of the infected; maybe all they needed was a little patience.

  I had walked aimlessly for several blocks along the waterfront, feeling my injured hand throbbing with every beat of my heart, and I sat down heavily on a bench overlooking the water underneath one of the lighted street lamps, it’s glow eerie in the fog. Sitting there I could faintly hear screams and howls of the infected coming from the northwest, in the direction of the border bridge.