“The latest report is in from Atlanta,” one of the assistants said and Sutton waved a thanks, then opened the pressurized door. Walking into the sealed chamber, he relocked the door and pressed the shower button.
Holding up his arms, Sutton let the bleach water wash over him as the UV lights came on. Turning in slow circles, Sutton let the water wash flow over him as two sprays started on the sides. For ten minutes, he continued the dance he had done too many times to count in his career. When the water shut off, steam erupted under his feet. This was new and he had only seen it in this new lab, and it scared the shit out of him.
He felt the heat inside the suit as visibility was lost in the cloud of steam. Then a hum sounded and the steam was sucked out. In front of him, a green light turned on and he opened the outer door and saw Jackson waiting in the changing area.
Sutton had to admit, he liked the Surgeon General. He had been in the Mt. Weather complex for four days and he was blown away at the size. He had been expecting a cave, but he’d found a small city buried under a mountain. “One of your people handed me this,” Jackson said, holding a stack of papers.
“Latest reports,” Sutton said, unzipping the suit and started the process of taking it off. It didn’t take as long as putting it on. Putting it on, one knew it was your last line of defense while working with the most lethal killers of nature and you did it slowly and correctly. Even after decades at his job, Sutton took his time, triple checking everything.
“Yeah, I think the virus is moving faster than your team predicted,” Jackson said.
Hanging his lab suit up, Sutton turned around to stare at Jackson. “Atlanta discovered two mutated viruses yesterday,” Sutton told him.
“Please tell me one is less lethal,” Jackson pleaded.
“Sorry,” Sutton said, kicking his Crocs off and shoving his feet in his loafers. “I’m not putting on a suit and tie. I’m coming back here when I’m done.”
“If anyone says anything, I’ll take care of it,” Jackson assured him, looking at Sutton who was wearing scrubs. “Remember, no blame on them.”
Grabbing the stack of papers, Sutton gave a tired smile. “Thank you for helping me through the political waters.”
“We need you and I’m not kidding. If they, the ones in charge, think someone will place blame on them, that person will disappear,” Jackson said, holding the door open.
“The director told me, off the record of course,” Sutton said, flipping the folder open. “Has the mountain been sealed?”
“It was after the president came in from Camp David. I put your laptop in my cart,” Jackson grunted, opening the door out of the building. The door opened up to a cement road in a tunnel. Golf carts were parked in marked spaces like cars would be in front of the building buried in the side of the tunnel.
Following Jackson to a cart, Sutton climbed in the passenger side as Jackson jumped behind the steering wheel. “Thank you, I always forget my laptop,” Sutton yawned. “If someone infected got in, then we are dead,” Sutton said, looking at the folder. “I hope everyone has at least been mucosal screened.”
Backing up and heading down the tunnel, “Yes, the nasal swab screen has been done on everyone before they entered,” Jackson assured him.
“It still takes one day after infection to become positive,” Sutton said, flipping through the papers.
Driving along, the tunnel opened up into a huge cavern but it didn’t look like a cavern. A hundred feet up, huge lights blocked out the roof. There were shops, stores, and buildings on both sides and a large lake on the left with a small park. “You have everything you need?” Jackson asked, passing other golf carts as they approached a crossroad.
Looking up from the papers and turning to Jackson, “That lab is better than the one I had in Atlanta, and it was supposed to have the best equipment,” Sutton snorted.
“So, you have everything?”
“Equipment wise, yes. But we have none of the chickens yet and I would like to get samples of the mutated viruses,” Sutton said, not paying any attention to the wonders around him.
“I’m working on the chickens, but the flocks are being decimated and the Department of Agriculture is destroying any flock that shows infection. I should be able to get you the samples,” Jackson said, approaching another crossroad and turned left. He honked the small horn on the cart as a man tried to walk across the road. Sutton looked up as the man jumped out of the way.
“Was that Senator Dayle?” Sutton asked.
Chuckling, “Yeah,” Jackson smirked.
“Should’ve run his ass over, he cut our funding,” Sutton grumbled, turning his attention back to the papers.
The buildings around them stopped and the walls closed in as they entered into a tunnel. Slowing down, Jackson stopped at a barrier gate like those in parking garages. But there were soldiers manning this one.
“They are expecting you,” one of the guards said, waving at a booth and the yellow gate swung up and Jackson pulled through and the tunnel opened up to a smaller cavern.
Pulling up to another building, Jackson parked in one of the vacant spots and climbed out. Closing the folder, Sutton slowly got out and grabbed his laptop bag. “I hope they give me a few minutes so I can go over this,” Sutton said, holding up the folder.
“They will,” Jackson smiled. “Paterson came to see you yesterday and saw you working in the lab.”
“What were
