Hot Zone Page 4

  Meri put her hand on my forehead. I don’t know what she found. I didn’t care. I just had to lie down. That was my only thought. Part of me wanted to think about what Tucker had said, but the pain in my head was pushing out any rational thought. I thought of what Sommer had said. It hurts. I can’t do this. I must say, I rather agreed with her.

  Chapter 3: My World is Changing

  I slept, but it wasn’t a normal night’s sleep. I remember Meri coming in and asking if I was all right. I remember lights flashing and screams, although I’m not sure they weren’t part of the strange dreams I was having that were unlike any dreams I’ve ever had before. I remember getting up and going to the bathroom. I remember deciding my bed was too soft and pulling off my blankets to make a little nest on the floor. And I remember pain. Hot, red pain that threatened to explode my head from the inside.

  I think it was thirst that finally roused me to consciousness. I had never in my life felt thirst like this. I moaned, hoping someone would hear it and bring me an icy glass of water, but finally decided there was no help for it—I was going to have to open my eyes. They opened as if I were Rip Van Winkle after his one-hundred-years sleep. I blinked, trying to figure out what time of day it was, and more importantly, who I was. Facts came back slowly, with the last clear memory being my going into my bedroom to just sleep a few minutes until my headache slackened a bit. It had been light then, and it was light now. That was good. It was a start.

  But there were fractured memories, and I felt like it had been significantly more than a few minutes. I was on the floor, and I vaguely remembered coming down here, although the reason I would think my bed was too soft escaped me. I tried to sit up and noticed that I was weak—was I sick or something? I also noticed that like in the Goldilocks story—someone was sleeping in my bed.

  I pushed the blanket down—I was lying directly on the wood floor, which probably accounted for some of my aches, and tried to figure out who the person was in my bed.

  I blinked in surprise as I identified Phil. She had her own room, what was she doing in here? I tried to push myself to my feet and couldn’t make it. I decided to stay on my knees until my head stopped spinning. Then I realized something wondrous. My headache, while not gone, was barely there at all. Fabulous. I just sat back on my heels for a minute, savoring the absence of the intense pain.

  Now I saw something else. One of our “comfy” chairs had been brought in here—an old La-Z-Boy that my dad had handed down to us. And asleep in the chair was, of all people, Tucker Anderson.

  Almost as I identified him, he woke with a start. His hair was rumpled in a sexy way, and he had at least a day’s growth of stubble on his face. “Oh, you’re up,” he said, getting out of the chair easily, making me think he hadn’t been asleep long. “How do you feel? Do you know your name?”

  “Of course I know my name. What kind of question is that?”

  “Do you remember everything that’s been going on?” He was peering at me like a doctor.

  “Well, if I’ve forgotten it, I can hardly tell you that I don’t remember it, now can I?” I felt quite smart being able to articulate that while my throat cried for water. “Say, could I have a drink? I could drink the whole lake, I’m that thirsty.” I was looking up at him, a penitent on my knees.

  “Yeah, sure.” He turned to the nightstand next to my bed where there was a glass that had once been icy but was now probably tepid. “I can get some ice,” he said, but I shook my head.

  He put the water in my hands, which were shaking, and I sat back in my blankets and drank. Tucker checked on Phil, coming to sit beside me on the floor, his back against the bed. “What is the last thing you remember?”

  The water was heaven. “I remember coming in here for a little nap. I take it my nap was not so little?” My weakness was making me think I might have been out the whole day. Could I really have slept until the next morning?

  Tucker said, “You have been out of it for …” He checked his watch. “Over three days.” He smiled at me. “You really don’t remember anything?”

  “Was I sick?” Three days? Three days. I tried to remember that much time passing, but it was hard to tell what I had dreamed and what had been real.

  “Yeah, ‘fraid so,” Tucker said. “How do you feel now? How is your headache?”

  “Better.” I frowned. “No offense, Tucker, but what are you doing here?”

  He laughed, and I smiled even though I didn’t really know why. He just had the kind of laugh that made me what to join in. “Valid question,” he said. He looked at the ceiling, collecting his thoughts. “You want all this now? Or do you want to get ‘caught up’ later? I’m pretty sure Meri would love to know you’re awake and actually lucid for a change.”

  Lucid. Tucker Anderson, who was—let’s face it—mentally retarded, had used the words valid and lucid in the last minute. I felt like maybe I was still dreaming. “Okay. Just tell me, was I sick?”

  Tucker shook his head. “Damned if I know for sure. Madde, there is some strange shit happening, and you have a lot of catching up to do.”

  He helped me to my feet, telling me about Phil as he walked me, like a total invalid, out to the living room. Apparently Phil was suffering from something similar to what had happened to me. He refused to elaborate further, saying that it would just sound crazy.

  Meri whooped like a crazed fan at a playoff game when she saw me. Tucker was smiling as if he had personally resurrected me from the dead. I sank gratefully into the couch as Meri fussed over me, covering me with the old ratty afghan that Mom had knitted for me years ago. Tucker left and returned with more water, icy cold this time. I noticed he was completely at home here in my apartment although when I went to sleep, he had never been here except to drop me off.

  There were other oddities, too. The windows were closed, but I could see that one of our large windows was boarded shut. And there was a rifle that looked to be a .308 Winchester sitting on the shelf near the window that used to house photo albums. Those had been set on the floor. A rifle in the apartment—that was certainly new.

  I looked at the clock, realizing that Tucker had checked his watch because it was almost exactly three days since I had retired for a nap. That made it just past four in the afternoon on Monday. Oh God, work! “Did someone call work? Am I fired?”

  Tucker and Meri exchanged glances. Meri said, “Honey, don’t worry about your job.”

  Tucker made a little noise at this and Meri shushed him. Meri turned back to me. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need to sleep some more?”

  More thoughts were crowding into my head. “Wait a minute. I was so sick that I didn’t seem lucid,” here I glanced at Tucker, unable to help myself, “for three days and no one thought to take me to the ER?”

  Meri said, “A lot has happened.”

  I thought about the girl running out and hitting Tucker’s truck. I thought about the dispatchers at 911 saying there were no ambulances or police available. And hadn’t there been some shooting in town? I’m sure Tucker had said something about a shooting. But three days later any shooting would be almost old news, right?

  Tucker said, “You remember how Eddy lost it?” He must have seen by my expression that I did. “Yeah, well he wasn’t the only one who went apeshit. People all over started just going nuts—there were shootings, murders, and so many suicides that—”

  “What? Why?” I couldn’t believe my ears. He must be exaggerating.

  Meri said, “Well, I think that it was the missiles that they shot down, the ones that were right here, right over our very heads. I think maybe they didn’t get them soon enough, or maybe they missed one. Whatever it was, we got a dose of it.”

  “Then why aren’t you sick?” I gestured to her and Tucker.

  “I don’t know,” Meri said. “Maybe it only affected some. That’s what some people think.”

  Tucker said, “It was an unknown biological or chemical weapon, and China isn’t exactly in the mood to g
ive us antidote information, if there even is an antidote.”

  “So, this weapon, it made people go crazy? Did it wear off then? Is Eddy okay?”

  Tucker shook his head. He looked me in the eyes and said slowly, “No. He’s not, Madde. I’m sorry.”

  Meri gave him a hard look and took my hand. “There was a fire at the hospital. Well, actually first there was a riot, then a fire.” She cringed at the horror on my face.

  Tucker said, “People kept bringing their relatives and friends to the hospital over in McGee, right? And these people, most of them were violent, crazy like Eddy.” He gave me an apologetic look. “And some of the hospital personnel became violent as well. It was horrible.”

  I shook my head, holding up a hand to stop him. “Wait. The last thing I remember, you were going to see what was going on,” I said to Tucker.

  He nodded. “Yeah. I called Dale and found out that the hospital was nearly full of folks bringing in people who had flipped out like Eddy. He had managed to get someone to take Eddy, since he was also hurt, and then Dale left. He hates hospitals. Anyway, I went back to where the girl—Sommer—had run off, thinking I would help look for her, but I could see that something was going on. A man was running down the street in his underwear shooting a gun. Cars were bashing into one another and some of the people would just jump out and start fighting. There were several people on the high bridge over the spillway. I crossed the bridge, and they just jumped off. And then more people climbed up after them. I called a couple of acquaintances to check on them, but couldn’t reach anyone.” He looked away for a moment. When he turned back to continue his story, his face was composed. “So I called here, and Meri answered your phone.”

  Meri said, “I was losing it. I heard gunshots, and the news—it was one thing after another about shootings, and suicides, and fires and riots. It’s limited to mostly Minnesota and Iowa, some in Wisconsin. Phil was unconscious, and when I tried to wake you up, your eyes rolled up into your head and you … you had some kind of convulsion. I kept calling 911 but no one answered. So when Tucker called and offered to help out, I thought God had answered my prayers.”

  Tucker shrugged, embarrassed. “I came here, and we were going to bundle you both up and take you to the hospital, maybe even drive to the Cities, if necessary, but then we heard that the hospital was on fire, and people on the radio said that the streets were full of accidents. Officials told everyone to stay home unless there was something the doctors could do.”

  Meri added, “Like gunshot wounds or bleeding or broken bones. No one really knew what to do for the people who were affected by the gas or whatever it was.”

  Tucker reminded her, “We almost took them to Clinton.”

  “Oh yeah,” Meri said. “Someone started suggesting that everyone who was affected get together in Clinton. I guess the idea was to get doctors to a large space and get medicine to these people. They were going to use the convention center, you know? But that’s at least 30 miles from here, and before long people were calling in and saying that things were out of control there.”

  “And some people were suggesting that we needed to put the affected people there so they wouldn’t make the rest of us sick,” Tucker said darkly.

  “Yeah, well, people say a lot of ridiculous things,” Meri said a bit tartly. And a look again passed between Tucker and Meri. I wasn’t sure, but didn’t think the two of them had even met before three days ago, at least not more than casually. I guess tense situations made people get to know each other pretty quickly. It felt strange being on the outside though.

  Tucker turned back to me. “So anyway, we decided to just take care of you and Phil here at the apartment. Phil sleeps a lot, but mostly she’s okay, just confused. You were moaning and crying out. I think it was with pain, but you were a little irrational there for awhile, too.”

  Meri grinned at me. “Yeah, for awhile you were screaming that the bed was killing you and you insisted on sleeping on the floor.”

  “I kind of remember that a little,” I admitted.

  Meri asked, “But your head doesn’t hurt now?”

  “It still hurts a little, but it’s much better.”

  Meri said, “The news says that some of the people affected recover.”

  I tried to think. I wanted to ask about Eddy, but didn’t really want to hear the words. Could he have survived the fire? No, best ask about something else. I pretty much knew the answer anyway. My boyfriend was dead. “Do they know what it was that made us sick? Can they fix it now?”

  “I guess nearly everyone with a microscope is working on it,” Meri said.

  Tucker added, “And people are just fucking paranoid. You’d think we have the bubonic plague here the way they talk.”

  Something slid into place for me. “You mean they think it might be contagious?”

  Meri gave Tucker another quelling look that plainly asked him to shut up about this. He gave her a small shrug, unrepentant. He said to me, “There’s some wild talk. I don’t think anything will come of it, but—”

  “Tucker! She’s just woken up! Can we not talk about this now?” Meri narrowed her eyes.

  “Yeah, but see, I’m not deaf, and I’m not stupid, so you might as well refrain from treating me like I’m retarded.” I had a brief flare of guilt at using that word in front of Tucker. Being politically correct was a bitch.

  Tucker didn’t seem to mind. He gave Meri a little look like, ‘see?’ “It’s pretty localized, and so there is some talk about cutting off the area in case it starts to spread. Plus information is getting skewed—I think people believe we’re all turning into zombies or something.” He laughed a little, but I thought I could see how it could be.

  “Can I have something to eat?” I asked finally. I looked for the remote that seemed to have a life of its own and a mission to hide at every opportunity.

  Tucker shrugged. “Just keep in mind that the local news is a lot more accurate. The national channels are a little, well, hysterical right now.”

  We turned on the TV and I soon realized what he meant. CNN had experts in medicine who discussed what the nation could do if the problems in the Midwest turned out to be contagious. The next segment was how people who lived near the affected area could protect themselves (from us zombie people, I thought sourly). Politicians assured the public that they wouldn’t let this epidemic get out of hand. Then there was talk about China. Then more about the “diseased areas” as it was called on Fox. Meri kept trying to get me to turn it off, but it was an amazing window on what I had missed the last few days. There was video galore of people killing others without apparent cause. There were horrible photos of suicides. There were close-ups of children killed by parents who had lost their minds “to the infection.” There were satellite photos of areas where even cameramen wouldn’t go.

  Apparently some people who had not been here when it happened had come in healthy and had become irrational and suicidal. That was the main reason people believed it was contagious, as far as I could figure out. Surely they would realize soon that it wasn’t a disease and it wasn’t contagious. Surely they would see that. But what if it was contagious? What if it spread across the entire country, and people began to turn on each other? I couldn’t imagine how horrible it would be in a place where there were millions of people in a small area. No one would enter the Twin Cities now, and power had failed there sometime yesterday, if the reports were accurate. They were able to see from helicopters flying over that Minneapolis and St. Paul were a haze of fires still burning and darkness. People with cell phones could still get through, but one “expert” on MSNBC wondered aloud if anyone could trust anything people from the affected area said. Isn’t it possible, this expert had asked, that stories of thousands of people who seemed healthy and needed outside help was just a ploy to get more people to come to the area so they could kill them?

  I looked over at Tucker, who had fallen asleep on the other side of the couch. Yeah, Tucker was a great example of a
killing machine. No, soon the true facts would set these people straight. How long could they continue to just run with misinformation and fear? But in the back of my head a little voice asked, What if it is contagious? What would I do to save the world from people like Eddy?

  I nodded off soon after that cheery thought, and when I woke up, it was to see that Phil was awake as well. They had put her in my room when I had been in there so one person could keep a watch on both of us. I quick tried to call Mom’s cell, but she must have had it off because it went right to voice messaging. I left a message saying I was fine and they should call because I was worried.

  I said hello to Phil but didn’t hug her as I wanted to because Tucker put a cautionary hand on my arm. He shook his head and I frowned, looking back at Phil more closely. She was muttering to Meri, who had her arm around her waist. Phil suddenly lurched as if a rug and been pulled out from under her, and Meri almost fell with her. I was ready to go over, but Tucker curled his fingers around my upper arm and held me back.

  Phil looked around blankly. “Who took all the plates?” she asked clearly, voice then dropping back down to an inaudible level. Meri helped her to a chair, but stood ready next to her. Tucker let go of me and went to the kitchen to get her something to eat. Phil put her head in her hands and began to sob. Meri rubbed her back, giving me a rather wry look that seemed to say she had seen this before.

  “Phil?” I asked rather tentatively. “I’m glad to see you,” I finished lamely.

  Phil didn’t look up at my voice or give any other indication she’d heard me. She looked around the room again and pointed letting out a little yelp of fear. I automatically looked to see what she saw but saw nothing. Meri shushed her, murmuring comforting words. Phil rocked back and forth, leaning on Meri a little until the food came. Tucker stopped as far as he could from Phil, and Meri took the plate that contained a sandwich and some cut up canned pears on it. Phil stared at Tucker and closed her eyes and shook her head, causing her tangled hair to fly around her face. Tucker went back into the kitchen, out of Phil’s sight and beckoned me to come in where he was.