He waited in silence for a moment before the voice returned, “I’ll give you this much, son, you got spunk.” The voice sounded a bit softer than the first time. “My lieutenant has informed me of your…reported state of emergency.” The colonel did not sound convinced of Hatcher’s sincerity at the moment. “I’d like to hear it from you myself.”
Hatcher sighed and keyed the mic. “And are you the one who actually makes decisions?” He released the key then rekeyed it quickly, “Sir?” He added the title as most military would to keep from pissing the man off any more than he already had.
Hatcher noted a tone of amusement in the colonel’s voice when he returned to the radio. “I most certainly would be.”
“Very well then,” Hatcher sighed. “I can only hope you’ll believe what I have to tell you, because my life and the lives of my friends depend on it.” Hatcher went on to detail the night’s events as he knew them. He explained how the concert goers were attacked and how once they were scratched or bitten, they too became crazed and attacked others. He explained how the whites of their eyes filled with blood, then the blood settled in the iris, turning them a deep red. He detailed the jerky, almost bird-like movements of their heads, and how they seemed to be overflowing with energy as they could run full out without stopping and didn’t seem to tire like normal people.
To his credit, the colonel listened intently and didn’t interrupt. Of course, Hatcher knew that he would have to key his mic on the radio and he wouldn’t be able to hear him, but he assumed that the colonel was still listening or taking notes, as he didn’t inundate him with questions on the few occasions that he released the key on the mic.
When Hatcher finished, he waited for a response. And waited. And waited. Finally, he keyed his radio again and spoke, “Colonel? Are you still there?”
Hatcher waited a bit longer and was about to give up when the radio came to life again. “I’m still here, son,” the tinny voice responded. “I was taking notes, then I had to make a call.”
“So what should I do?” Hatcher asked. “Will you be able to send help?”
He waited again for a response, but none came. He continued to wait, assuming the colonel was still on the phone. Hatcher drummed his fingers on the table and spun in his chair a bit as he waited. With his nerves nearly shot from not being able to raise anybody from the Forrest Service, the Park Service, or the sheriff’s department, these guys were his only hope.
He reached up to the key the mic just as the radio shot a burst of static and the colonel’s voice returned. “Sit tight, son. I’m trying to coordinate with a handful of different groups, but I’m doing my best to get some boots on the ground to assist.”
Hatcher shot a questioning look at the radio. “Other groups, sir?”
“This is sounding like an infectious disease, and my superiors are in full agreement. They’re hot-flighting the CDC to your location. That means we’ll most likely have a full garrison on the ground before daybreak,” the colonel said quickly. “I’m trying to coordinate with the Pentagon as well with which troops to send.”
Hatcher nodded and smiled, then his gears started turning. He considered the colonel’s last statement. Which troops to send? What difference should it make? We need to contain these people to prevent the spread of…but how does the military best contain anything? Hatcher’s mind spun faster as he considered the ramifications. He snatched up the mic and keyed it. “Colonel, are you meaning what I think you’re meaning?”
Again, there was silence on the line and Hatcher didn’t know if his nerves could take waiting much longer. “Colonel?” Again, he waited as static filled the air. “Colonel, if you plan to send boots into my park just to mow people down when there’s a chance they could be treated and released…” Hatcher warned.
Again, no response. He set the mic down and paced. His heart rate had increased, and his breath rate had increased as well. He continued to think of the vast numbers of people who were present at the concert. Surely not all of them were ‘infected.’ Surely some of them simply scattered into the woods to escape the attacks. He knew for a fact that Mitch and Candy were…Mitch!
Hatcher scooped up the mic and keyed it, “Colonel, be aware that not all of the people in this park have been compromised. You cannot simply come in, guns blazing!” Hatcher fell into the chair and stared at the radio, mentally begging the man to respond.
A short burst of static came across the speakers and the colonel’s voice echoed out from the speakers, “We are under direct orders to contain this outbreak, no matter the costs, Mr. Hatcher,” the colonel informed him, his voice sounding eerily mechanical. “If you have people in the park, I strongly suggest you gather them up and have them ready for a medical inspection before we arrive.”
Mitch slid to a stop at the crest of a hill and peered behind them. “I’m not seeing anybody back there, do you?”
Candy looked back over her shoulder, but all she saw on the road was dust. “Negative,” she coughed. “But then, I can’t see anything.”
Mitch stepped from the ATV and checked the fuel tank.
