“Anyone who has had contact with that is likely to be infected, even if they are not yet showing signs. ”
“We have a few bite victims, but they’ve been quarantined in locked rooms. Everyone in the auditorium is uninfected. ”
“That’s not good enough, Officer Fox. If you want us to help you, then you need to help us. There can’t be a single infected person in that building. There can’t be a single suspected case. Not one. Are we clear on that?”
Dez looked at JT, who was sitting with his head in his hands.
“Christ,” he said, “he’s talking about kids and friends of ours and—”
“JT,” she whispered, “what choice do we have?”
He shook his head. “You’re killing me here, Dez. ”
Into the walkie-talkie she said, “We’ll do what has to be done. ”
“Send the infected out of the building,” said the general.
“Are you going to quarantine them? Are you going to take
them to a secure medical facility?”
Zetter paused. “I’m sorry, Officer Fox, but that is not possible. Not with this plague. ”
Dez closed her eyes.
“And what about us?” she asked hoarsely.
“You will be under quarantine for an indefinite period. We are trying to determine the absolute outside range of the parasite’s life cycle. That means that you survivors are a community in there. We’ll air-drop food, weapons, medical supplies, hazmat suits, and other materials. None of my people will enter the building. Anyone who leaves the building before the quarantine is lifted will be terminated. No exceptions. That order comes down from the president of the United States, Officer Fox. ”
“What about the rest of Stebbins? There may still be people out there … pockets of resistance?”
The general sighed. “Officer Fox … there is no ‘rest of Stebbins. ’ Not anymore. ”
Dez almost threw the walkie-talkie out of the window. Instead she walked over and sat down next to JT.
“Okay,” she said into the mike. “And goddamn you all to hell. ”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ONE
STEBBINS LITTLE SCHOOL
Billy Trout was covered in blood. Some of it was his; a lot of it belonged to the children in the hall. After the shooting stopped, he and the other adults swarmed through the hall, coaxing children out from under chairs, herding them and carrying others onto the stage and into the dressing rooms and greenroom backstage. It disturbed Trout that so few of the children were crying. Right now even hysterical screams would be more normal than the drawn faces and empty eyes of these kids. He had seen this kind of thing before, mostly in newsreel footage and photos of children in Iraq and Afghanistan, in Somalia and Chechnya, in war-ravaged places around the globe. The hollow stares of hollow children who have been emotionally and psychologically gutted by fear, horror, and the betrayal or abandonment of those who were supposed to be there to protect them.
The only relief, and it was a small one, is that there were no casualties. Despite injuries, some serious, to everyone in the room, no one had been killed. In Trout’s view, as far as miracles went this one was kind of left-handed.
He could hear the helicopters outside and wondered why they had stopped.
His camera was on a stool at the edge of the stage. The Record and Send buttons were still locked down. The images of bloody children crawling out from their marginal niches of safety did not need a narrator, and Trout was too busy anyway.
He thought about the diatribe he’d given during the attack. The phrasing was probably too colorful, a bit over the top. On the other hand, this whole thing had a “worst-case scenario” flavor to it.
There was a knock on the door and everyone froze. The teachers with guns rushed over, grimacing with impotent anger. Trout ran with them. If this was another attack, then Team Stebbins was going to rack up some points.
The knock came again. Three hits, then two, then three.
“It’s Dez!” Trout said as he shouldered his way past the armed teachers. He unlocked the doors and pulled them open.
Dez Fox and JT Hammond stood there, bloody and shaken, looking as battered and abused as the people inside. Even though he had no invitation, no right, no permission to do so, Trout took Dez in his arms and pulled her into a fierce embrace. For a moment she tensed to push him back, but then wrapped her arms around him, and they held each other, feeling unuttered sobs tremble beneath each other’s skin.