Storiesonline.net ------- Patient Zero by carioca Copyright© 2011 by carioca ------- Description: Howard has a fever, but goes to work anyway. Codes: PostApoc zom ------- Howard coughed again, hacking up a wad of mucus flecked with blood. He looked at it fuzzily then wiped it on the bedspread. Was it three or four days now since he'd left home? He picked up the phone and called home again. The message was the same. "Hi, this is us, Howard I hope its you, I took Sheila to the hospital, they admitted her for pneumonia, but they say she'll be ok. I'll call you at the hotel later." She hadn't, he wondered if she would and his fever ridden mind drifted back, He'd caught the flu from Sheila, how did she catch it again? She was over it. Blood? He'd coughed up blood, that was bad, he needed a hospital, but his body was so heavy and cold he didn't think he would make it by himself. He picked up the phone and dialed the front desk, it rang and rang, but no-one answered. He gave up and dialed 911. "911 emergency services." Howard tried to answer, but only managed a dry croak. "What is the nature of your emergency?" He tried again and managed a raspy whisper that hurt his throat. "Help, ambulance." "Is someone injured?" "Me, fever cough blood." His head spun and he couldn't understand the reply, so he croaked out "hurry" and dropped the phone on the floor." The woman on the other end tried to get him to respond, but he didn't hear her, his delirium took him back home to his family. ------- Howard coughed, phlegm smacked into his hand, white, tinged with yellow. He hurried to the bathroom and washed it off his hands, then went back to packing. Clair put her hand on his forehead, it was cool and soft against his skin. "You have a fever, it must be that flu Sheila brought home from school, maybe you better stay home." He took he hand in his own and kissed it, "I'll be alright, she got over it in a day, I will too. This meeting is important, after I get back, we can all take a vacation." She looked dubious, she obviously remembered that he'd said the same thing before last week's convention. That trip sure hadn't been worth it, the convention closed the first day amid rumors it was a target for terrorists. "Really, I've already put in for the Monday and Tuesday after I get back." She smiled, tears glistening in her eyes."I'll miss you, come back safe." She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. One. She helped him pack his bags and move them to the front door of their apartment. His daughter woke up as they moved the suitcase past her door. "Daddy?" She ran out in her PJs. "Kiss me goodbye daddy." He picked her up, and she kissed him. Two. ------- "Keep the change."he handed the cab driver two twenties and stepped out onto the sidewalk, dragging his bags behind him. Three. He whistled tunelessly, and tried to ignore the woman in front of him as she bellowed into her cell phone. He showed his ID at the counter, and had his boarding pass changed to an isle seat. Four. The Homeland Security drones made him take his laptop out and the guy running the scanner tossed his unopened apple juice into a bin. He grimaced, sometimes they would take things and sometimes not, but it wasn't worth it to fight city hall. After he rounded the corner, the security guard reached into the bin, cracked open the apple juice and took a long pull. Five. His flight originated in Miami, He was one of six people who boarded the plane at Cleveland-Hopkins, The luggage compartment above his seat was full, so the stewardess offered to stow his carry-on away forward for him. Six. After the plane took off he had another coughing fit, and went to the restroom to wash his hands again, he didn't notice the minute traces he left on the door and faucet, nor the near microscopic particles that escaped into the cabin as he coughed his way down the isle. Twenty-One. The flight crew came round serving drinks, he took an apple juice and then settled into a fitful sleep. The steward took his trash away and folded the table for him. Twenty-Two. The pressure change of landing went straight to his sinuses, and he had a pounding headache by the time they landed in Chicago. He didn't bother to stand until the isle cleared, then he made his way through the crowded terminal to make sure of his gate. Behind him, the crew made a cursory cleanup before they reloaded the plane and flew it back to Miami International. The armrest of his seat, one of the seat backs and a moist hand print on an overhead bin each managed to infect somone. Twenty-Five. Three grueling hours. He called his wife, just to check in, then forced himself to eat some lunch, making sure to get a receipt for reimbursement, Twenty-Six used one of the stalls in a restroom, Twenty-Seven then sat and waited for his flight, near a half dozen troops on their way back to Iraq. Twenty-Nine. His flight was announced as delayed and moved to a different gate. The chair he vacated was taken immediately by a couple of kids flying to Los Angeles with their parents. Thirty-One. The flight attendant scanned his boarding pass, Thirty-Two. and he filed onto the plane. He rested his hand on several seat backs on the way to his seat. Thirty-Four. This time he was alone on his side of the isle and could stretch out. He should have worked on his laptop, but instead leaned back his seat. He was asleep before they left the runway and didn't wake until they landed in Salt Lake City. About half the cabin emptied there, including one of the people he'd infected. He also got a seat mate who would connect to a Korean Air Lines flight to Hong Kong, with a Layover in Tokyo. He coughed in his sleep, infecting not only the man next to him, but the woman in front. Thirty-Six. The car rental was a haze, he handed over his credit card and signed everything they put in front of him, then headed for the hotel. Thirty-Seven. There was some confusion over his reservation, and the clerk needed to call a manager to straighten it out. By the time they were finished he left a collection of tissues on the counter. The couple behind him eyed it distastefully as they signed in, not realizing they were using the same pen. Forty-One. He dragged himself out of bed in the morning, not remembering quite how he'd gotten there. He felt a little better especially after a shower. The tissues provided by the hotel were so flimsy they were useless so he blew his nose on one of the hand-towels. Breakfast was unappetizing but he ate as much as he could force down, drinking a lot of the juice. The days meetings were important, if he didn't get them done, the deal might not go though for another month, and that would pus it intop the next quarter and delay the revenue and the subsequent bonuses for everyone in his department for another year. Deep in thought, he didn't notice the phlegm he left on one of the serving spoons, and he never knew about the maid who picked up the towel in his bathroom later. Forty-Three. The morning meeting was a basic dog and pony show with powerpoint presentations no less. This was with upper management not only of the company being acquired, but the seller as well. Handshakes all around as introductions were made, it was hard to keep up a charming front, especially feeling as lousy as he did. He wouldn't be seeing half of them again, they just wanted in the meeting to show how important they were, some of them had even flown in for the morning meeting and had rounds of golf scheduled after lunch. Sixty-Eight. For lunch he was 'entertained' by some of the middle management, who chatted him up fishing for information on if and when layoffs might be expected. All in all he would have preferred a nap, but he struggled to be sociable and silent on the issues at the same time. Seventy. The afternoon meeting was with everyone in the tech departments, and he spent a lot of time tap dancing around the issues the managers had pumped him about. Even after the presentation he was backed into a corner much longer than he wanted to say. He needed some drugs and some sleep, in that order, if he was going to get through the next round of meetings. Eighty-Two. He finally got out of the building, surrendering his pass at the front desk, Eighty-Three. He hit a big box store on his way back to the hotel and bought a range of drugs hoping to overwhelm the disease so he could sleep at least. Eighty-Five. Back at the hotel, he took a handful of pills together with an overstrength dose of the liquid, and went to bed. The next day he dragged himself out to the car, and headed to the meeting. The whole day was a blur, the pounding in his head made it hard to concentrate, and he only hoped his notes would be legible. He knocked off early and went to to the hotel, straight up to his room. Ninety-Three. The phone ringing woke him, he'd forgotten to call his wife, He prevaricated when she asked him how he was feeling, claiming it was mostly jet lag. He promised to call her in the morning, and drifted back to sleep in a fever induced haze. The next morning he answered the phone, not comprehending who was on the other end, but finally getting the point across to the office that he wouldn't be in that day. He didn't even hear his wife's calls. ------- The paramedics had the manager open the door, took one look, and called the gurney up. In their hurry they neglected make sure the housekeeping staff really understood their lecture on contamination, assuming they understood English. Ninety-Eight. At the hospital his vitals were depressed. They started him on an IV, but he was never lucid enough to realize it. Once in his delirium he mistook one of the nurses for his wife and reaching for her he coughed close enough to her that the virus entered her system though her eyes. Ninety-Nine. Howard died early the next morning, before they located his wife in the hospital back home. An orderly wheeled him down to the morgue. The attendant never heard the sheet fall to the floor, the only thing left of Howard's mind was gross motor functions, a primeval hunger, and the pain of death. His moan alerted the attendant, but the man didn't have time to process it before Howard lurched off the table and bit a chunk from his calf. One Hundred. ------- The End ------- Posted: 2011-05-02 ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------