Endemic Rise of the Plague (4 page)

“
No word on the whereabouts of this Haley girl? Fine then, thank you for the update Randy. I am pleased to hear that this issue has been resolved without incident and that your team has already returned from the assignment,” a man said, hanging up his office phone, as he heard a knock at the door.

“
Come in!” he shouted after a heavy sigh.

The man sat behind an imposing, oak desk, lacquered to a high shine. The immaculate desk has no dust, scratches or scuffs. It is wiped down nightly by the cleaning crew. James Meadows has fired six members of the cleaning crew, in the last four months, for not having an eye for perfection when it comes to his office. Arguing, that if they can't be detailed in their work, especially in the boss’s office, how could they be trusted to do a respectable job with the rest of the building? After all, this is a laboratory hospital, cleanliness being the upmost of importance.

His appearance is even more of a priority than his office. He waited on his visitor, seated in a two thousand dollar, ergonomic chair, and clothed in a charcoal designer suit. A crisp white button up shirt adorned with a solid black tie peeked through the blazer, and a white gold Rolex draped across his wrist. His hair is short, jet black with white and silver gleaming through on the sides above his ears. Being the Chairman of Angora, a prestigious lab running some of the nation’s leading research, he maintains a strict fitness regimen to maintain his health and appearance. He is immodest of his rather muscular body at age sixty-two, making him feel unparalleled to the other slouchy businessmen he interacts with. His face is covered in golden, soft flesh, and large, deep-set wrinkles around his eyes, mouth and forehead that look like a satin sheet gathered into creases.

“
Come in!” he growled again as he stood from the chair.

The door whirled open and Mara strode in slinging the door shut behind her. Her
quick pace and firm steps, conveyed that this was not the free spirited scientist that usually strolled through the laboratory halls.

“
Dr. Brandenburg, I didn't expect you. Did we have an appointment?” He leaned over the desk looking at his date book. “Amy took a late lunch. It's really been a zoo today.”

“
No. We do not have an appointment," her voice, rigid and to the point. "Do you have a moment that you can spare?”

“
Sure, Mara, what's on your mind?” His face stiffened as he raised an eyebrow.

This tone she spoke in—caught him off guard.
Intrigued at this rare challenge to his authority, he thought he might let this one play out and see where it goes, for now.

“
Did you come to my lab while I was out, today?” She demanded.

“
Yes, I did,” he smirked in amusement, leaning against the front of his desk, folding his arms.

“
Did you take syringes from the refrigerated box in my office that had hold tags on them?”

“
Yes, I did,” he nodded with a benign grin, feeling somewhat amused by her demeanor.

Pausing, she swallowed hard and insipidly asked,
“Where are the injections now?”

He burst into laughter.
“You’re so serious. What’s going on?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, raising her voice,
“That's because I am serious. Where are the syringes?”

“
We used them for the clinic today,” keeping his voice low and his words paced, he began feeling slightly offended. “There were several employees from very promising investors. Granted, there were a few that were from small, local businesses as well, but it’s all good publicity for us. As it is, the intern in pharmacy slipped up. That imbecile had some of it mistakenly sent to your lab, causing a panic in the pharmacy,” he sighed with disappointment, taking a seat in his chair.

“Don't worry,” James continued. “We were able to locate the shots and get them where they belonged. It's really not a problem. I think you handled it well. I have every confidence that you were going to take care of it when you got back from your appointment, but we needed them during that time. Your tech, Angie,
took excellent care of me. We found them with relative ease. I know you’re in the basement Mara, but it would be courteous of you to at least take some interest in our calendar. To, at minimum, know when we are having events like the one today. Regardless, you may relax, it's all taken care of now. Will that be all?”

Mara's eyes hit the floor. She stood before him in silence, but seemed troubled.

“James,” she murmured, shaking her head, “Did you see that the syringes had hold tags on them?”

“
Yes, a nice touch, just in case the—“

“
It wasn't a nice touch,” she interrupted, her voice became rigid again, “They were on hold for a reason.”

“
Dr. Brandenburg, I respect you as a brilliant scientist,” he spoke unrushed with poise. He stood again from his chair, in disappointment at her conduct. “It may be wise to watch your tone when speaking to the chairman of the organization that employs you. May I also point out, that you did not log the reason for the hold on the product, in neither the hold log nor on the hold tags themselves, leading your technician and myself to believe that they were not really on hold.”

She stood in silence scowling at James on the brink of tears. As her shoulders dropped, it
became obvious that she struggled with an issue of some sort. Mara had never been called into his office under unsavory circumstances and had never been reprimanded in all her time at Angora. James allowed her to run her benign experiments on new vaccines and organic foods, with little supervision. Angora needed an exploratory lab for tax purposes and he knew that it would be a good fit for Mara and would someday, pay off for him to have her in that lab.

“
Why did you have the vaccine on hold?” He lowered his head and locked eyes with hers.

“
It wasn't flu vaccine. That's why it was on hold. The syringes were mislabeled,” she pursed her lips together tightly, glaring into his eyes as a lone tear crept from her eye.

Frowning, James sunk back into his chair. He motioned for her to sit in one of
the two black, leather chairs before his desk. After a few moments of silence, he looked upon her once more.

“
What was it?”

“
It's a long story sir, which I will gladly tell you. This is very, very time sensitive. We need to find out who received those injections and locate them immediately,” she said in urgency.

“
No, you will explain it to me right now,” collecting his phone, he dialed a few numbers. “Hello, this is James Meadows. I need the injection logs from this afternoon's flu shot clinic emailed to me immediately. No, I'll wait on the line until I have received the email. Also, are there any remaining injections left from delivery mishap this morning? I see, deliver them to Dr. Brandenburg’s laboratory immediately. No, I would like for you to deliver it, personally.”

He waited a moment looking at his laptop, almost as if Mara weren’t even in the room. He moved his finger across the mouse area.
“Yes, I've received it. Thank you.”

He said nothing after hanging up the receiver, just clacked around on his laptop for a short time. Soon, crisp
, white sheets of paper began to eject from his laser printer. He reached down yanking four sheets from the printer on a shelf, under his desk. Dropping them across the desk before Mara, a somber expression hardened his face.

“
Dr. Brandenburg, there are two injections remaining, and they are being delivered to your lab as we speak. I would like that explanation now.”

Roxy closed the animal science text book on her lap and set it on the coffee table, next to the three other weighty text books, as she began feeling lightheaded. The neighbors were speaking so loudly outside, and a lawnmower ripped to life. The noise volume made it seem as if the windows were open, but they were not. As the air conditioner in her house rumbled, it echoed in her head. Even the clock in the kitchen ticked at a thunderous volume. She clicked the television remote trying to find something compelling to watch, hoping that it would take her mind off of how she felt and silence the other annoyances.

After two commercials, she thirsted for water, her mouth fe
eling parched and sticky. As she stood, dizziness rippled through her head. She reached down to the couch armrest to steady herself, her body feeling achy all over. Slowly, she shuffled to the kitchen, grabbing her purse from beside the kitchen door to the garage. Filling a glass with water from the sink, she quickly sipped it. Her head drummed with pain, as she put her palm to her forehead. Her skin felt cold to the touch, yet beads of sweat stuck to her face. Wiping the sweat from her brow and upper lip, she gulped more water.

Going for her purse, she extracted a pamphlet that had been presented to her at the flu shot clinic. The cover had a generic picture of the building where she had received the shot
with their company name and tagline at the top:
ANGORA LABORATORIES, The Future is Yours
. She opened it and began reading the warnings and side effects
. Possible flu like symptoms
.

That would explain the dizziness and achiness.
This is sure coming on fast. Just a few minutes ago I felt fine.
Looking at the time on the microwave, she realized that she had received the shot about three hours ago. She laid the brochure on the counter and pulled some generic cold and flu medicine out of the cupboard over the sink. Her dad always said-it’s just as good as the name brand.

Roxy eyed a mirror her mother found at a second hand shop a few years back. She studied her reflection in the framed mirror, on the wall, beside the sink. Her flawless skin had a collection of random beads of sweat. She fixed her left eyebrow with her finger, which had been disrupted when she wiped her brow. Her pouty lips were rosy, but felt parched, and her eyes struck her as peculiar. Not only were they bloodshot, but the actual shade
seemed abnormal. Instead of the soft brown, which they had been all her life, they appeared lighter in color with little flecks of what looked to her as teal. She blinked her eyes, then shook her head, resolving that in her weakened state her eyes must be deceiving her.

As she swallowed the pills with a big gulp of water, she noticed Gypsy pawing in the space between the wall and the oven.

“What is it, Gypsy?” Roxy knelt down and looked beside the stove.

She hoped it wasn’t a mouse. Her thoughts went back to last year when their house had been invaded by the field mice. She hated the nasty, little critters.

Peering into the narrow crevice, she found herself surprised at how well she could see in the darkened crevice. A few crumbs, a fork and a blob of something could be spotted near the back. She inhaled through her nose and instantly could smell the pungent aroma of cheese. Munster, she thought.

She stood.
I must be hallucinating. There’s no way I could smell a glob of Munster on the floor way back there, especially if I am felling sick.

Shuffling her feet sluggishly toward t
he living room with her head throbbing relentlessly, she thought a blood vessel may rupture at any moment. As she shambled along, her foot became ensnared by object that escaped her view. Stumbling forward, she caught her balance avoiding a tumble to the floor. Clanking aluminum sent her headache into overdrive as the clatter reverberated within her head. She found Kate’s duffle bag wrapped around her ankle. Four softballs and a metal bat had rolled out of the bag and across the tile floor. She bitterly shoved them back into the bag.
I’m not zipping that thing up. Hopefully Dad does the same thing, and then Kate can hear it from him.

She eased herself onto the couch, grabbing the sofa throw draped across the top. Her two dogs, which she often refers to as
the ladies
, followed. Gypsy crept onto the couch and lay next to her, while Rogue snuggled next to her feet on the floor. Roxy wrapped the throw around her shoulders and reached for the remote control and lowered the volume.

Dave strolled down Starling Avenue, taking in the last gulp of orange soda from the fountain drink he had purchased at the Fast Time convenience store down the street. The drink sated his thirst, but did little to ward off the blistering heat radiating off the sidewalk and asphalt. The bar was only a couple blocks down and he knew that it
would be a satisfying seventy-two degrees in the place, but being cooped up in his studio apartment above the bar all day was taking a toll on him. The same routine day after day—left Dave sure that he’d soon die of boredom.

He crossed the next block eyeing the
park across the street. There were a few joggers and cyclists on concrete pathways, a couple kids tossing a Frisbee on the grass and a woman walking—or make that—being walked by four dogs. He let his mind go as he crossed the street, heading toward the park. He imagined what the lives of the people in the park must be like.

Since getting back in town a few months ago after being discharged from the Marines, he felt out of place. The downturn of the economy
left many of his old stomping grounds closed down. Foreclosure signs blocked the windows of too many businesses and were planted in front yards of homes on nearly every block. Most of the crew that Dave knew in his high school days had moved on, either due to unemployment or their families losing their businesses or homes. Port Steward was his hometown, but with no family and after being gone for six years, it felt like a whole new place. In the Marines, he had direction and purpose, but here, he feels that he’s just winging it through life with no real direction.

Tossing his soda cup into a trash can
, he took a seat on wooden picnic table, letting his feet rest on the bench seat. The table rested under a giant, Eastern White Pine, offering a generous blanket of well needed shade. The picnic table had been painted green at one point, but now the paint curled and flaked off, clinging to his jeans.

Saddle Brook Park was one of the only places
that’s the same as it had always been, soaring shade trees and thriving, green grass seemed to roll on endlessly. The lingering aroma of a barbeque in the distance brought Dave back to when his family had celebrated his ninth birthday in this very park.

As a refreshing, gentle breeze ruffled his gray tee and snuck through his buzzed, black hair, he spotted a family of four. A boy of about ten, raced ahead toward the duck pond with a loaf of bread in hand. The parents trailed behind, each holding a hand of a toddler in a blue princess dress. Every now and again, they would count to three and swing the little girl off the ground by a foot or so
. She giggled contagiously every time.

Dave thought nonstop about this family. What they must do for a living, where they might live and what their house could be like. He thought about what it would feel like to come home and have people
there that missed him while he’d been away and to worry about him if he came home late. And he wondered what it would be like to be on the other side of that scenario.

After watching the family feed the ducks and geese at the pond, Dave felt as if the heat of the day had drained him of all energy. Disappointment with himself and his current situation of nothingness, weighed heavily on him.

It’s pointless watching other people living their lives instead of living one myself. I need to get a hobby or get out and meet some people. Something. I can’t just live all hermit style, over a bar till the end of time. I need a change—something to look forward to—something to break up the monotony that is my life.