Phobia: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller Page 7

  After leaving the military, he’d done all manner of jobs, from working in a hardware store to doing construction and being an office manager but none of them had lasted long. His phobia, otherwise known as mysophobia, had just got the better of him. Those who didn’t have it could never understand the toll it had taken on him. For a while he found help with a local counseling group that met on Tuesdays to discuss their OCD but getting there every week had been challenging. With it being an hour away, eventually he just convinced himself that talking about his fear with other folks who suffered the same thing wasn’t doing him any good. That’s when Kate had recommended a psychologist. Sal was one of two in the area. Initially he went to both. However, the only one that seemed confident that Frank could be helped was Sal. His methods were abrupt at times and depending on how he was feeling that week, the sessions either went really well or really badly — of course this was no fault of Sal’s. It mostly came down to how Frank was feeling on the day.

  He checked his phone again. Still nothing. He resisted the urge to send another text, knowing full well that it would only annoy her. Where could she be? There was of course the possibility that she was driving and couldn’t pull over to answer it. He would give it a few more hours and if she still hadn’t arrived he would phone.

  EIGHT

  Frank jerked awake at the sound of his phone. He was seated in a La-Z-Boy chair, the TV was on and a warm band of light seeped in through a gap in the drapes. He looked at his watch. Seven-thirty? Holy crap, he’d been asleep the entire night. The last thing he remembered was sitting down, eating a microwaved dinner and sipping on some bourbon. He hadn’t been sleeping well over the past few days so it must have caught up with him.

  “Ella?”

  He wasn’t sure why he called out her name; she wouldn’t have been able to get across to the island unless of course she had managed to talk someone into taking her.

  He looked down at his phone expecting to see a whole whack of text messages from her but there were none because the power had drained on it in the night. Shit! His throat was parched and he must have slept funny because one side of his neck was in agony, it extended all the way down to his back. Then he remembered bringing in that generator. Damn thing probably caused him to twist a muscle.

  Frank eased out of his chair and went over to the window; he pulled back the curtains and squinted as light flooded in. He plugged in his phone to charge it and went off to get ready. There was a slim chance that she might have caught a ride on someone’s boat so he went and checked the rooms in the house. When he saw that the two guest room beds were untouched, he started to feel anxious. He went into the bathroom and pulled out his meds and took two tablets, just something to take the edge off while he tried to figure out why she wasn’t there.

  After a quick shower, he slipped into some clean clothes and gazed out the bedroom window across the river using binoculars that he kept on the mantelpiece. On a clear day he could see the harbor. He hoped he might see her car but it wasn’t there.

  As soon as he made it down, he flicked on the TV and selected news. That’s when he knew things weren’t right. Instead of playing the local news a blue screen was in its place with the words:

  Emergency Alert System

  Contagious Disease Warning

  For Your Area Until Further Notice

  CIVIL AUTHORITIES HAVE ISSUED a warning for the following nine states: New York, Georgia, California, Florida, Texas, Illinois, North Carolina, Michigan and Ohio. The World Health Organization is reporting an outbreak of a highly contagious virus. It is advised to remain in your homes unless you are experiencing the following symptoms, in which case please proceed to the nearest hospital.

  IT BEGAN REELING off different symptoms, most of which were common to a typical flu virus. The notice explained that citizens were advised to avoid anyone with those symptoms and that local police and military were working together to ensure public safety. Frank noticed his hand was trembling ever so slightly.

  A news program came back on and video began reporting rioting starting in Atlanta and Manhattan. Frank watched in horror as they replayed a video from the previous night. It showed a truck plowing into an electrified fence to bring it down so people could escape. It was total pandemonium; smoke grenades and rubber bullets were being used to hold people back. It wasn’t the first time that the police had used aggression. Only months earlier he’d seen riots start after an African American was shot dead by an officer. Police vehicles were set on fire, windows were smashed and stores were looted. They had difficulty holding back the angry crowds then but this was unlike anything he had ever seen. If he weren’t watching it unfold, he wouldn’t have believed it.

  A news reporter on scene that morning had a finger stuck in one ear and was taking cover as he tried to talk to someone who lived near the quarantine area.

  “All I can tell you is late last night, there was a loud bang and that truck over there broke through the barrier they had put up only a day earlier. I was watching from my window. I saw it all. Police and military in full riot gear were using batons, pepper spray and Tasers to hold people back. I’m pretty sure I saw them fire rubber bullets. Either way, the brutality was unbelievable.”

  The broadcast station then flipped over to a similar situation that had occurred in Manhattan. They had managed to keep everyone contained within a specific area of the city but riots had ensued inside. It would only be a matter of time before the same thing that happened in Atlanta would take place in New York.

  It took a good hour before the phone was charged enough that he could make a call. He checked the texts but there were none, and no messages.

  There was a slim possibility that she had stayed at a motel, or was at the house in Clayton. He rang the main home number but there was no answer, it just went to his voicemail.

  He tried her number again but still no answer. This time he left a message telling her to call him as soon as she could. He went through all manner of reasons why she wasn’t here or responding but none seemed to alleviate his fear.

  That’s when it dawned on him. He tried the landline number at the cottage, entered the code for the voicemail and waited.

  “You have five new messages.”

  He clicked the first. “New Message: Dad, are you there? Please pick up. Pick up.” It went to the next. “Dad, this is Ella, things are getting really bad down here. I should have left but I didn’t, I was too caught up in trying to stay on top of my work. Look, I’m going to leave now and see if I can find a route out of the city. I will phone you in an hour.” The next one he assumed would be her telling him that she managed to get out and was on her way but it was worse. “Dad,” she was breathing hard, “I’ve been in an accident.” She stammered and struggled to get the words out. “Dad, it’s complete chaos. I’m scared.” The call ended, and the next one came on. “I’ve called an ambulance because my wrist is in a really bad state. I’ve hurt my head. They should be here soon…” she trailed off and the call ended, and then it went to the final message. “It’s okay, they are taking me to Queens Hospital. I don’t think I’m going to make it back…” she trailed off.

  “No!” he said aloud thinking that she could hear him. The hospital was the worst place to be. It would be overflowing with infected. For all he knew the medics themselves might have the virus. Frank hung up and cursed, kicked a chair across the room and took out his pent-up frustration on the furniture around him. When he was done, he slumped down to his knees and stayed there for a minute or two processing what had just happened. If he hadn’t fallen asleep he would have got her messages. Why didn’t I hear the phone? He got up and went out to the kitchen where the phone was. It had a full charge. He frowned, confused. Then he followed the phone line that went from the phone jack to the wall, and then brought it up. He closed his eyes. “Shit!”

  He remembered he’d taken it out last summer so he could paint the kitchen and hadn’t plugged it back in. The only thing plugged in was
the power, which meant all messages would go to his voicemail service. Seething, he slammed his fist against the wall and made a huge dent in the drywall.

  Frank paced back and forth trying to figure out what to do. Okay, calm down; call the hospital, they’ll be able to tell you if she is okay. He brought up the number from a search engine and waited only a few seconds before he got a busy signal. C’mon! He hit redial again, then again, then again. He tried multiple times over the course of fifteen minutes but all he got was a busy signal or a message telling him their voicemail was full. “Well, of course it is!” he hollered. He nearly tossed the phone across the room but stopped himself just before he released it.

  Okay, contact Kate. She’ll know what to do. She always knows what to do. He texted her and after ten minutes of no reply, he tried phoning but got nothing, just her voicemail. He left multiple messages over the course of an hour. He flicked off the TV; it was only getting him more anxious. The sight of people breaking into stores, and police wrestling looters to the ground was too much for him to handle.

  He’d set his phone on the counter and was staring out the window trying to think when the phone rang. His insides leapt as he rushed over and snagged it up. He instantly thought it was Ella calling to reassure him, or even Kate but his stomach dropped when he heard Sal’s voice.

  “Oh, not you.”

  “Really?”

  “Look, call back later, Sal, I’m expecting a call from Ella.”

  “She didn’t arrive?” he squeezed in before Frank could hang up.

  “No. No she didn’t.” He ran hand over his tired face. He knew he was going to have to explain it to him. “She was in an accident, Sal. They’ve taken her to a hospital in Queens. I can’t get through to them. I’ve tried to get hold of Kate and there’s no answer. I’m beside myself. I honestly don’t know what to do. Did you see the news?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I was phoning about. I was going to take you up on your offer.”

  “Um, yeah, sure.” He could barely manage to focus on the conversation. “If you want to swing by, I’ll—”

  “I don’t think Tim is going to be down at the harbor today so you would need to bring us over on your boat.”

  This was the last thing he needed on his plate. He had no clue where his family was but here was his psychologist asking for help at the worst possible time.

  “Look, Sal. I’ve got to find out what’s going on with my daughter first. Can you hang tight where you are for now? And I’ll phone you later.”

  Frank caught him sigh. “Yeah, I guess. Okay.”

  With that he hung up. Immediately Frank checked the voicemail on his phone and his texts but still nothing. The thought of traveling down to get her was weighing heavily on his mind. He struggled on an ordinary day but this was a situation that was far beyond ordinary. It was his worst nightmare. He went into the living room and poured himself a stiff drink. He shuddered as the harsh liquid burned his throat. He tried once again to get through to Kate. This time it worked.

  “Kate, where have you been? I’ve left countless messages.”

  “Yeah, well if you haven’t noticed, I kind of have my hands tied at the moment.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Oh god, Frank, I’ve never seen a situation so out of control. The CDC is…” her voice became muffled as the sound of heels could be heard passing by. Kate must have stepped into another room as background noise became quiet.

  “The CDC has lost control of this.” She paused. “It’s out there, there’s no way they are going to be able to stop this. At first we thought we had contained it but then we got the reports in Canada, and then the incident last night.”

  “Did those people get out?”

  “Yeah. I mean the police tried to stop them but it was useless. How do you stop and restrain someone who could potentially end your life with a cough, or a sneeze? The hospitals are overflowing with infected. It’s…” she trailed off.

  “You okay, Kate?” Frank asked.

  “No. No I’m not. They have us on lockdown. I couldn’t get out of here even if I wanted to.”

  He shook his head. “Seems ironic, doesn’t it.”

  “What, being married to someone who swore this was going to happen, or leaving you to find myself back in the heart of it?”

  “Both I guess.”

  She let out a nervous laugh. “But at least you and Ella are safe, right?”

  Frank swallowed hard.

  “Right? Frank.”

  He hesitated before speaking. “Ella has been in a car accident.”

  NINE

  Ella wasn’t sure at what point she went unconscious. Everything had happened so fast. The sound of metal crunching, the car spinning and then it was a blur. One minute she was heading north on I-678 hoping to scoot around the trouble brewing in Manhattan, the next she was hanging upside down in her seat, with blood dripping from her head.

  What came next occurred in fragments; fire cutting into the night sky, leaving messages on her father’s machine, an ambulance flashing blue and red and bringing to life the chaotic scene. If it hadn’t been for some stranger who pulled her out, she was pretty certain she would have burned to death. The car was a total write-off. She didn’t even get a chance to thank the guy who dragged her out before she blacked out.

  When she awoke a doctor and nurse were at the foot of her bed. Light stabbed her eyes and her throat was parched.

  “Where am I?”

  The doctor looked up from his clipboard. “Queens Hospital. You were lucky to survive.”

  A flood of memories came rushing back in and she reached up to touch her head. Attached to her arm was an IV.

  “Yeah, you’ve suffered a concussion.”

  “How long have I been in here?”

  “About six hours. We are going to keep you overnight just to keep an eye on you. Fortunately, there are no broken limbs, though you do have a fractured wrist, but nothing that some good rest can’t cure.”

  She nodded.

  “If you need anything just press the button, and a nurse will see to you. It might take a while as we have been rushed off our feet with new admits.”

  “Is that the flu that is going around?”

  His brow furrowed. “You saw the news?”

  “Yeah. How bad is it?”

  He cast a glance at the nurse as though the matter was of no concern or top secret. “Just get some rest, I’ll check back later.”

  “Thank you, doctor.”

  He walked out leaving the nurse who was checking the readings on the cardiac machine.

  “Nurse, you think I can get some water?”

  “Sure.”

  “And do you know where my phone is?”

  “I can check and see if they have it.”

  As the nurse headed for the door, it dawned on her to ask about the person that had helped her out. “Nurse, sorry, do you know what happened to the guy who helped me?”

  “Oh, the tall, college guy with dark hair and blue eyes?” The nurse smirked.

  She cleared her throat and tried to remember. The nurse obviously could read the confusion on her face.

  “He’s actually still here.”

  “After six hours?”

  “Oh, he hasn’t been here the entire time, he returned an hour ago.”

  She nodded but didn’t ask to speak to him. She was grateful for what he had done but ultimately he was a stranger. Why did he return?

  “He’s out in the lobby, I can let him know you’re awake if you like? That’s if you want to speak to him.”

  She must have given a slight nod of her head as the nurse slipped out. Ella took in her surroundings. She’d only once been in hospital back when she was eight years old; she had fallen down a flight of steps and broke her leg. She remembered the look of concern on her father’s face. He had to be sick with worry being as she hadn’t phoned since the accident. She pulled back the sheets and noticed they had undressed her and slipped her into a
hospital gown. Her legs were slightly banged up and bruised and there were a few scratches. It was her wrist and head that hurt the most. She still wasn’t entirely sure what had caused the accident, though she figured her car got sideswiped by another vehicle crossing lanes and she lost control and wound up in the ditch upside down. All she could remember was her purse, hairbrush, lipstick and money in the air as the car flipped, and the smell of gasoline and dirt.

  After seeing the updates on the news about Manhattan, Atlanta and a few other cities being locked down, she had panicked and packed a bag hoping to leave before they started rounding up folks over in Queens. She was ready to drive all night if she had to but she hadn’t made it even half an hour away from the college when the accident happened.

  There was a gentle rap of knuckles against the door and she glanced over to see a good-looking guy peering in.

  “Can I come in?”

  She cleared her throat and pulled the covers back over her. “Yeah, sure.”

  The guy had short dark hair, intense blue eyes and was sporting a St. John’s Queens University pullover. It had the words Red Storm down the left arm.

  “Um, I’m Gabriel, how are you feeling?”

  Ella repositioned herself in her bed. Her muscles ached, and pulled at her bones, she was still feeling rough even though they had given her meds to ease the pain.

  “I’ll live.” She paused. “By the way, thank you for what you did.”

  “Ah, I’m just glad we happened to be in the area at the time.”

  “We?”

  “A few of my buddies, we were just making our way back from,” he made a gesture as if he was hitting an invisible ball with a bat.

  “Beating someone up?”

  He laughed. “No, baseball.” He pulled at his hoodie.