sorry, Ashley, but that’s just not possible.” Simone looked sympathetic, but didn’t give any ground. “Outside communications have been heavily restricted. We have a center handling all calls in and out of the quarantine zone.”
“Quarantine zone?” My voice took on a new urgency. “Let me talk to my parents! I need to know if they’re okay!”
“Where do they live?” she asked.
“Lake County.”
A reassuring look settled on her face.
“So far the infection has been contained in Redwood County,” she said. “They should be safe.”
“But what if they contact this call center?” I pressed. “How will they know I’m okay?”
“They’ll be told that you’re recovering from a relapse of the flu, but need to remain in quarantine for a while longer. And that you’re getting the best possible care.” Simone patted my shoulder. “They’ll still worry, of course, but not too badly.”
I shut my eyes and heaved a reluctant sigh of relief.
Maybe I’ll eat a little something after all.
Opening my eyes again, I looked at her.
“How did this happen?” I asked. “For that matter, what the hell happened?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t know. We don’t know.”
“Who’s ‘we’?”
“Ah.” Simone picked up the tray and set it carefully across my stomach. “Eat something, and I’ll tell you what I can.”
Chicken noodle soup, saltines, and more ginger ale. A very familiar menu, and definitely comfort food. Right now I needed all the comfort I could get. So I crumbled crackers into the soup, picked up the spoon, and ate while Simone talked.
“This isn’t the first time an outbreak of this sort has occurred.” She settled into professorial mode, lacking only her lectern and laser pointer. “Throughout history,” she continued, “there have been outbreaks of the reanimated dead, also referred to as zombies, the walking dead, the living dead, and by numerous other colloquial and hyperbolic descriptions. It really all depends on the time period, locale, and average I.Q. of the local populace. ‘Walking death’ has been a popular term for the condition, though.”
A part of me couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Iwanted to scream, What kind of idiot do you take me for? Then again, I’d had chunks of flesh ripped out of my arm and had come face to face with my undeniably zombified boyfriend.
So I just let her continue.
“It’s been difficult to isolate the root cause,” she admitted. “It acts like a virus, spread via contact with the bodily fluids of an infected person. But as to how it originated? No idea. The religious implications alone are staggering.” Simone paused, but then shook her head.
“Some of the outbreaks have been minor, quite easily contained. In those cases, patient zero was easily located and—”
“Patient zero?”
“The index case. The first patient whose discovery indicates the existence of an outbreak.”
“Outbreak.” I nodded. “Like in the movie, the guy who let the monkey go, he’d be patient zero, right?”
“Erm...” She struggled with that for a moment. Then, “Ah, yes. At least for the mutated Ebola virus they—” Simone stopped and looked at me askance. “That was a terrible movie, you know.”
“It had Dustin Hoffman,” I said in defense. I liked Outbreak.
Simone just looked at me.
“Don’t judge me,” I muttered, and drank some more ginger ale.
Redwood Bear Market and Gas was typical of the rest stops found off the little highway that cut through the forest a few miles west of Redwood Grove. Folksy billboard with a friendly anthropomorphized bear, carvings and furniture made of redwood burls lining the porch around the store, signs advertising espresso.
“ It looks deserted.”
Sgt. Willard Gentry glanced over at the speaker, PFC Knowles, the newest—and Gentry’s least favorite—addition to their squadron. Knowles was far too cocky for such a skinny little shithead with breath like the back end of a
“Quarantine zone?” My voice took on a new urgency. “Let me talk to my parents! I need to know if they’re okay!”
“Where do they live?” she asked.
“Lake County.”
A reassuring look settled on her face.
“So far the infection has been contained in Redwood County,” she said. “They should be safe.”
“But what if they contact this call center?” I pressed. “How will they know I’m okay?”
“They’ll be told that you’re recovering from a relapse of the flu, but need to remain in quarantine for a while longer. And that you’re getting the best possible care.” Simone patted my shoulder. “They’ll still worry, of course, but not too badly.”
I shut my eyes and heaved a reluctant sigh of relief.
Maybe I’ll eat a little something after all.
Opening my eyes again, I looked at her.
“How did this happen?” I asked. “For that matter, what the hell happened?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t know. We don’t know.”
“Who’s ‘we’?”
“Ah.” Simone picked up the tray and set it carefully across my stomach. “Eat something, and I’ll tell you what I can.”
Chicken noodle soup, saltines, and more ginger ale. A very familiar menu, and definitely comfort food. Right now I needed all the comfort I could get. So I crumbled crackers into the soup, picked up the spoon, and ate while Simone talked.
“This isn’t the first time an outbreak of this sort has occurred.” She settled into professorial mode, lacking only her lectern and laser pointer. “Throughout history,” she continued, “there have been outbreaks of the reanimated dead, also referred to as zombies, the walking dead, the living dead, and by numerous other colloquial and hyperbolic descriptions. It really all depends on the time period, locale, and average I.Q. of the local populace. ‘Walking death’ has been a popular term for the condition, though.”
A part of me couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Iwanted to scream, What kind of idiot do you take me for? Then again, I’d had chunks of flesh ripped out of my arm and had come face to face with my undeniably zombified boyfriend.
So I just let her continue.
“It’s been difficult to isolate the root cause,” she admitted. “It acts like a virus, spread via contact with the bodily fluids of an infected person. But as to how it originated? No idea. The religious implications alone are staggering.” Simone paused, but then shook her head.
“Some of the outbreaks have been minor, quite easily contained. In those cases, patient zero was easily located and—”
“Patient zero?”
“The index case. The first patient whose discovery indicates the existence of an outbreak.”
“Outbreak.” I nodded. “Like in the movie, the guy who let the monkey go, he’d be patient zero, right?”
“Erm...” She struggled with that for a moment. Then, “Ah, yes. At least for the mutated Ebola virus they—” Simone stopped and looked at me askance. “That was a terrible movie, you know.”
“It had Dustin Hoffman,” I said in defense. I liked Outbreak.
Simone just looked at me.
“Don’t judge me,” I muttered, and drank some more ginger ale.
Redwood Bear Market and Gas was typical of the rest stops found off the little highway that cut through the forest a few miles west of Redwood Grove. Folksy billboard with a friendly anthropomorphized bear, carvings and furniture made of redwood burls lining the porch around the store, signs advertising espresso.
“ It looks deserted.”
Sgt. Willard Gentry glanced over at the speaker, PFC Knowles, the newest—and Gentry’s least favorite—addition to their squadron. Knowles was far too cocky for such a skinny little shithead with breath like the back end of a
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