Page 55 of A Wilderness Within

“Welcome to Atlanta,” the sheriff said. “We are running a safe camp here, so if you have a mind for trouble, you can go back to where you came from.” He rested his hand close to his gun, and the men flanking him all eyed Lincoln with open distrust.

“I want no trouble. I’m Major Lincoln Atwood. My girlfriend and I need to see Dr. Erica Kennedy, the interim CDC director.” He couldn’t help but wonder if Caroline heard him from inside the car.

“Is that so? What for? There’s no vaccine yet,” the sheriff pointed out.

“I know. That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? To all give blood samples? I am immune, and so is Caroline.” He jerked his head toward the SUV.

“Caroline?” The sheriff’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean Caroline Kelly?” The sheriff was staring at her now with a look of wonder, like she was a Hollywood celebrity, and her name rippled through the men behind him like a wildfire.

“Yes.” Lincoln finally understood.

These people came here to help, which he had expected, but he had not thought about the fact that Caroline might become something more, something bigger than herself every time she talked. In delivering her messages of hope, she had become humanity’s beacon in their darkest hour, a voice that spoke to something deeper than any current of fear or self-interest. She spoke to a person’s soul. Just like she had done for him, she had done for everyone here.

“Could we meet her?” a man behind the sheriff asked, his face bright with eagerness.

“Sure.” Lincoln looked over his shoulder at the SUV and waved for Caroline to come over. She retrieved Ellie from the car before she came to stand at Lincoln’s side.

“You’re a mom?” the sheriff asked, bending over to look at Ellie.

“She’s my niece. My sister and her husband didn’t make it.” Caroline set Ellie down and held out her hand. “I’m Caroline”

“I heard.” The sheriff enveloped her hand in both of his, almost hugging it. “I’m Pete Andrews, the sheriff of this little unofficial camp.”

“Hi.” Caroline smiled at him. “You guys heard me on the radio?”

Pete nodded. “We did. You…” He cleared his throat and removed his hat, holding it in his hands respectfully. “You’ve helped a lot of people, Ms. Kelly. Me among them.” He looked to Lincoln briefly. “I was one minute away from calling it quits, ma’am. Then I heard you, like the voice of an angel.” The group of men behind Pete were nodding in agreement.

“I…wow, I had no idea.” Caroline turned bright red and leaned instinctively against Lincoln. He instantly curled an arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer. He was so damn proud of her that he was almost shaking. He had to remind himself why they were here.

“Is Dr. Erica Kennedy here?” he asked the sheriff again. “We haven’t heard from her in almost a week. We’re worried something might have happened to her.”

“She’s inside. She’s fine. She’s been overloaded with all the samples. We have over two thousand people here in the area who came to give blood.”

“Two thousand?” Lincoln stuttered over the numbers.

“A little more than that, but yeah. We’ve only been here two days, but we’ve managed to organize a small tent town. We’re working next to move people into the nearby housing divisions for long-term residences.” Pete grinned. “Come on, let’s get you inside to see Dr. Kennedy.”

Lincoln and Caroline followed the sheriff inside. Lincoln noted that their escort had remained behind to keep watch over Kirby and the cars. Then they headed for the glass building. He was too afraid to believe in good news, but he so desperately wanted to believe they had a fighting chance.

Please… God…if there was ever a time to answer the prayers of a sinner like me…

16

Excerpt from the private journal of Dr. Erica Kennedy, interim director of the CDC:

I feel like I am chasing a ghost. Everywhere I turn in these wet markets I see places where the virus could linger and grow. Stagnant pools of water, the droppings of birds mingling with pigs. The sharp claws of monkeys who bite and scratch anyone who gets too close to their cages. The filth and the mix of animals is everywhere, and I feel the seeds of mankind’s destruction being sown and brewing like a deadly apocalyptic storm upon the horizon.

I’ve taken dozens of samples and found no trace of the virus as of yet. Where is it hiding if not in plain sight? This morning, I received an urgent call to visit an apartment, one I suspect our previous field agent visited. But when I arrived, no one was there to let me in. I used an old spare hotel key card to pick the lock of the squalid residence. I entered with caution, wearing a mask and two layers of gloves. I kept my sleeves and pants taped closed. It is not my best improvised protection, but it is all I’ve had time to arrange.

The home was quiet; the silence was like a tomb as I entered. It was dark and dusty, with the smell of death, that sharp, pungent scent that makes every instinct inside me scream out to run away. The deeper I moved into the residence, the heavier the smell became.

“Hello?” I called out in both English and Mandarin. No answer. I walked into the next room, a storage room, and froze. Hundreds of cages were piled up on top of each other, a veritable menagerie. Each creature inside was dead. A lifeless crab monkey stared blindly at me with milky-white, glassy eyes rimmed red. Its body was coiled tight, as if whatever had killed it made every muscle seize up. Its tiny clawed paws were curled into fists, and its face was uncharacteristically stoic. No death grimace, no silent scream. Like Marburg or Ebola, whateverthis virus was, it killed parts of the brain, liquefying the tissue until the creature lost control of its facial expressions entirely. But there was something different about this virus. It did not leave the bodies to melt and decay. No, this monkey’s body was clearly starting to harden, to mummify.

What on earth was this thing? I wanted to take samples, but this was a hot room, one that was brimming with hundreds of millions of virus strands. It was possibly even airborne. The thought strangled me, and I rushed from the room, trying to resist the urge to rip my mask from my face to breathe easier.

Something grabbed me, and I screamed as a man with bloodshot eyes shouted at me in Mandarin.

“Go, save yourself!” But his hand curled around my upper arm, and I could not get free. Then the man gargled, and his eyes rolled back in his head as he vomited all over my face and chest.

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