She studied him skeptically.
“Okay. I’m going to pick up dinner.”
She smiled and squeezed his hand.
He helped her out of her clothes and under the covers, then went into the bathroom to search the medicine cabinet. All the cold and flu tablets had long since expired. He found a bag of zinc lozenges and returned to the bedside with them.
“Stay in bed, honey. Try these—they’ll help. I’ll go get dinner and some cold medicine. Be back soon.”
Elliott ate a small snack to soak up some of the alcohol, then turned the oven off and moved the uncooked food to the refrigerator. Completing Rose’s cooking was above his pay grade; a few hot trays from Whole Foods were his usual fare when she was out of town. That would have to do for tonight.
The drugstore parking lot was filled to capacity; Elliott actually had to wait for a spot. The scene inside took him aback. People filled the aisles and argued at the checkout line.
What’s happening here?
He went to the aisle that held the cold and flu medicine, but the shelves were utterly bare. Every last box and bottle of medicine was gone.
There was a commotion at the back of the drugstore, near the pharmacy desk.
“My kid is sick—”
“When will you get more—”
A pharmacy tech strode past the dropoff window and met Elliott’s eyes.
“Excuse me,” Elliott said. “Do you have any cold medicine left?”
The young woman shook her head as if she’d gotten that question a lot. “No, and we don’t know when we’ll get more.”
If this was happening in Atlanta, it was likely happening across the country. Things were worse than the stats had revealed—much worse. Elliott needed to get back to work. They needed to get more aggressive, and fast. And it was now urgent that they get the virus sequenced so they could compare it with the samples from Mandera. If the viruses were the same… He didn’t want to even think about the possibility. The US wasn’t prepared for that. No country was.
He considered calling Rose, but that might wake her. She needed her rest, and she probably wouldn’t have eaten much anyway. There were still leftovers from last night in the fridge if she did get hungry.
On the way to the CDC, Elliott dialed his son, Ryan, in Austin. Ryan and his wife and son were scheduled to fly to Atlanta that night to spend Thanksgiving at Elliott’s home. He answered on the first ring.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hi. I was hoping to catch you before the flight.” Elliott could hear cars honking in the background.
“Why? Is everything all right?”
“Yeah,” Elliott lied. “Of course. Just checking on you. There’s a bug going around here.”
“Here, too. Feels like half the city is sick,” Ryan said.
“Adam? Samantha?” Elliott asked.
“They’re fine. We’ve all been lucky—dodged it so far. But Adam’s day care sent all the kids home yesterday.” He paused. “We’re almost to the airport. You sure we should still come?”
Elliott had been pondering that very question. If things went south, he would rather have his family close. And he didn’t want to worry them. “Definitely. We’re looking forward to it.”
“Okay. We’ll see you later tonight.”
“Be safe. I love you.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
At the front desk of the main CDC building on Clifton Road, Elliott swiped his access card. A red beep. He tried it again. The security guard at the desk walked over.
“I think something’s wrong with my card,” Elliott said.
“It’s not your card, Dr. Shapiro. Your access to the campus has been revoked.”
“What? By whose order?” In his peripheral vision, Elliott saw two more security guards walking to the turnstile.
“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know.”
Elliott took a few steps back from the entrance, allowing other staff to make their way past. They glanced back at him. He took out his cell phone and dialed the director.
“Steven, I’m having a problem getting into the building.”
“Get used to it. You won’t ever get back in the building if I have anything to do with it.”
Elliott considered playing dumb, but figured appealing to the director’s sense of duty was the stronger play. “Look, whatever you think of what I did, it’s done now. We’ve got a serious outbreak going on. We need all hands on deck—for the sake of the American people—”
“Save it, Elliott. We’re well aware of the situation. Go home. And don’t you dare say another word to the press.”
DAY 5
50,000,000 Infected
12,000 Dead
Chapter 38
Desmond awoke with a new, more intense pain. The welt covering the left side of his chest was like a bee sting—from a Volkswagen-sized bee.
While he had been unconscious, they had moved him from the barn. His new cell was quite different. He was indoors, in a very new and sophisticated facility. Metal walls painted white surrounded him on three sides, and a thick glass barrier looked out onto a wide corridor. He lay on a narrow bed with a simple mattress and no sheets. This was a proper prison—and a high-tech one at that. There was a speaker in the ceiling, and a pass-through slot on the wall opposite the glass, presumably for food.
The tranquilizer dart the soldier in the barn had shot him with had been powerful; Desmond sensed that he had been out for quite some time. And much had happened: they had taken his clothes, replaced them with green scrubs, and seen to all his wounds. He pulled up his shirt and inspected the cotton bandage on his side. It covered the shallow rut he had carved.
His hands and feet were unbound. It felt good to be at least that free again.
He wasn’t sure exactly how he knew, but he sensed that he was on a ship. Perhaps it was the slight movement, or simply the proportions of the space and the fact that the walls, floor, and ceiling were all metal.