Someone had found chairs for both Zehra and Paul inside the small tent. They slumped into them. Paul told Zehra more of the background of the plot and the fears law enforcement had about it.
As she relaxed, Zehra started to cry. She couldn’t stop. The unbelievable horror of it all, the deception, lies, and the smashed hopes, flooded out through her tears.
Conway and two other FBI agents surrounded them. The black woman, Dr. Johnson, was there also.
She spoke to Zehra. “Take it slow, honey. What can you remember here?”
Zehra sniffed and told her about the program.
“How long was the fair?”
“A couple hours.”
Johnson frowned and looked at Conway. “Shit.” She turned back to Zehra. “Was Ammar with you?”
“No, he left shortly after the fair started. Why are you…?”
“Honey, two hours is more than enough time to zap all of you with, maybe triple the dose necessary for infection and transmission.” She shook her head. “Who’s left in the school?”
Zehra felt sick at the thought of the disease. “Paul says you have a vaccine?”
“We do, but I have to tell you, we’re not one hundred percent sure it’ll work. Depends on the strain of this virus.” Johnson’s eyes grew round and soft. “Now who’s in there? Talk to me, dear. Talk to me.”
“Lots of people left, but they’re still some inside.”
“God damn it! My black ass is too old for this,” the doctor slapped her hands together and sighed. In a moment, she collected herself and said, “Okay … at least we’ve got the sample in the basement. I’ll authorize that to be choppered over to the airbase and flown to Atlanta. The testing takes about an hour.”
“Meantime, we’ve gotta quarantine the neighborhood right now,” Paul said.
“Right. Where are the closest hospitals?” Johnson asked. “If these kids get sick, or their families, they’ll show up there and we’ve got to warn the staff to be prepared.”
Conway spoke, “But how wide do we throw the quarantine net? We don’t know where the hell these kids went.” Conway’s stomach jiggled as he started to move around quickly. He pulled out his cell phone.
Dr. Johnson held up her hand. “Hold your butts, boys.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t you see? All of these people are hot. Everyone they’ve been in contact with it will carry the transferred virus. Families, friends, neighbors, gas stations they stop at on the way home, potentially dozens of other victims.” She paused and looked at the group. “Quarantine? Shee-it! It has to be big.”
Kamur’s face clouded over. “She’s right. We’ve already lost the first line of defense. Even with a low multiplier, this will spread like mad. It may already be too big for the limited supply of vaccine we have available.”
Conway stomped the ground. “I hate to say it, but where the hell is Homeland Security? We better call the mayor to help coordinate the containment.”
Dr. Johnson said, “We gotta go public with this soon. We need major help. The message has to be worded carefully to avoid a panic. For instance, if we describe the initial flu-like symptoms to the media, hundreds of noninfected people with colds who are afraid, will flood the hospitals and emergency rooms. They’ll crash the medical staff so they won’t be able to help the truly infected patients.”
Dr. Kamur said, “I’ll try to determine the perimeter of quarantine. Hopefully, we can still catch it.”
“I’ll work on the statement,” Conway said.
Kamur interrupted him, “Sir, you need to call the governor and the FBI director and get all the troops. This is too big now.”
When Carolyn Bechter got word of the shooting at Hiawatha High School, she and her crew raced over there. It took them twenty minutes to fight their way through the growing ring of law enforcement.
Thoughts of Paul swirled in her mind. There was no doubt, he’d saved them from the crowd. When this was all over, maybe she’d call him for a drink …
She was wet from the rain and used a small hair blower to dry herself in the van. She reapplied her make-up as best she could in spite of the jolting van.
When they jerked to a halt at the edge of the school parking lot, she burst out of the side door. “Come on, Ray,” she called behind herself. “We’re the first ones here.”
She saw several small white tents across the lot, pitched near the entrance to the school. Dozens of people scurried from one tent to the other. The rain let up to a slow drizzle.
Carolyn started to work her way around the line of law enforcement people, flashing her press credentials as she went. Within ten feet, both she and Ray were stopped.
A young cop pushed them backward. “Can’t go any closer. Don’t you know what’s over there?” His eyes opened wide. “There’s a plague.”
Carolyn started to shove her way forward. She’d been in these situations many times and remembered that sheer guts usually worked. Before she could break through the line, she heard rumbling behind her. She turned to look.
Four large dark-green trucks lumbered along the street next to the lot.
Brakes squealed as they all stopped. From the back end of each truck, dozens of soldiers erupted into the street and circled around the edges of the parking lot.
They all carried weapons and wore gas masks. In the drizzle and darkness, they looked like actors in a cheap thriller film.
Carolyn found herself pulled back toward the street. She tried to fight forward, but several soldiers grabbed her and shoved her out of the way. “Who are you?” she called out to the knot of soldiers closest to her.
“National Guard. We’re taking over the city.”
Forty-Five
Too exhausted to continue, Zehra went to the hospital with Paul. Physically, she was okay except for a bruised throat and scrapes to her arms and legs. Warm blankets piled around her body, up to her chin. She was quarantined.
Mentally, she was a wreck.
Although she didn’t know the full story about Mustafa and his plot yet, Zehra still felt guilty. In her mind she replayed the details of the shooting. Would he have shot again? Wasn’t he turning away? Was there something else she could have done? It became too much, and her brain shut down.
She awoke when her mother and father looked through a glass window into the bay.
“What have you heard on the news?” Zehra asked.
“It doesn’t sound good,” her father looked grim. “The governor’s called out the National Guard for the Twin City area. The rain has stopped so everyone’s worried people will start coming out again. The best place for you is right here where you can be taken care of. We’re old enough that we received vaccinations as kids. Hopefully, it’s still effective.”
She worried there wouldn’t be enough vaccine for her and that it wouldn’t work. “How’s Paul?” she asked.
“Your friend from the FBI? He’s right next to you. Here…” Her mother pointed to the curtain beside Zehra.
Paul lay propped up in his bed, talking on his phone.
“How can you keep going after all you’ve been through?” Zehra asked.
Lowering the phone, he said, “This is why I became an FBI agent. We’re fighting for the state now. If we lose, the battle’s for the country.” He resumed talking.
Zehra took a deep breath. No one spoke. Her parents found chairs and sat beside the window.
Suddenly, Paul whooped. He laughed and cheered. “Dr. Samson, are you certain?” he said into the phone. “I can’t believe it-there’s one honest person left in the world.” He shut his phone and looked to Zehra and her family. A smile split his face open.
“What’s so funny?”
