Land of the Dead (Book 1): Infected Read online

  Dillon braced with the rest of the world. The first cases of the virus were reported in Alexandria and Suez on the 11th. The infected were Syrian refugees, and they had likely gone unnoticed by the Egyptian Ministry of Health. By the 12th, Cairo had cases reported in several of the less affluent areas.

  Worse yet, several imams and a few government officials were saying that this was an American disease, a Western disease sent by Allah to punish the sinful western world. American ex-pats were streaming to the Embassy to ask for protection, but there was none to give them. Americans in Maadi were being refused service in local restaurants, and a few were attacked by frightened locals who were setting up neighborhood checkpoints and questioning anyone who didn’t obviously belong. CAS closed, announcing that classes would continue on line. They had done this during the last revolution.

  A navy helicopter delivered four crates of equipment and one crate of vaccine to Cairo West Airbase on the 13th of February. The U.S. military personnel and contractors stationed there to train the Egyptian Air force in the piloting and maintenance of Apache helicopters were quietly preparing to bug out. Dillon had to bribe the Egyptian Army Captain at one checkpoint to be allowed to exit the highway and return to Maadi. It only cost him 200 Egyptian Pounds, which was around 30 dollars.

  The crates were for the U.S. Embassy Marine Security Guards, and contained a total of 10 Heckler & Koch MP-5 submachine guns and 60 thirty round box magazines. Another crate contained 2000 rounds of 9mm ammunition.

  “Shit, they could have loaded the damned mags.” Dillon said to himself. Still, he was glad that they had thought to send some firepower.

  Dillon knew he would be up all night loading magazines. He called Bryce to tell him about the weapons.

  “RSO office, Agent Monroe speaking.”

  “Bryce, it’s Dillon. I just got back from the airport. I have a present for the Marines.”

  “Really? What are we looking at.”

  “Hardware mostly.”

  “Well, we have plenty here. Is there anything useful?”

  “Plenty. They gave us 10 MP-5s and a couple of thousand rounds.”

  “Well, we have M-4s for everyone here. I doubt you’d even be able to make it downtown to bring them in.” The Marine Security Guards had received plenty of extra weapons and ammunition during the last two revolutions. Dillon had known that they wouldn’t need MP-5s. Still, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  H&K had been awarded the D.S. contract in 2014, replacing the Glock 19 and Colt Submachine gun with the USP-9 and MP-5. Dillon was happy with the change, having become familiar with the USP and MP-5 during his days with 5th Group, though he wished that State had issued the USP in .45 instead of 9mm. The reason for this was compatibility of ammunition, so it was an understandable compromise. Dillon particularly liked the fact that he was issued a USP Compact for protection, or for use as a backup.

  “I could try a night run…”

  “Not worth the risk. At this point, I doubt you will even get the vaccine to us.”

  “Are things that bad up there?”

  “Tahrir Square has a couple hundred thousand protesters. They’re accusing the Ministry of Health of covering up the problem. And we KNOW the Egyptian government is covering up the problem.”

  “Okay, I guess I’ll hold on to this stuff, then. There’s no vault at USAID.”

  “Yeah, guess your place is as safe as any. How much vaccine did they give you?”

  “They sent 220 doses. I figured I would drop that by the USAID clinic tonight.”

  “Call Doctor Cohen and make sure he puts them in the locked fridge. There are too many locals at USAID who would steal those in a heartbeat.”

  “Good point. I’ll do that.”

  “Keep your head down, Dillon.”

  “You too, boss.”

  It took Dillon twenty minutes to drive the two miles to USAID. He had to turn around twice because of checkpoints and once because of a protest proceeding out of a local mosque. Once there, he waited in the lobby for another half hour before the doc showed up.

  “Sorry, I was stuck in traffic. It’s getting crazy out there.” Doc was obviously a bit flustered. Traffic was always….erratic….in Cairo, and throughout the Middle East. Cairo was a city of roughly 12 million people, and had less than a dozen traffic lights. Stop signs were optional, and a noticeable percentage of the local population believed that turning on the car lights drained the battery.

  “It’s going to get worse, doc. Civilization is, in the best of cases, only about three days from barbarism. We saw that in the aftermath of Katrina, and I’ve seen it in Somalia, Iraq, and Afghanistan. These people are going to be fighting over food pretty soon. They’re also going to be scared to death of the virus and the infected and lashing out. I heard you received the quarantine instructions. What are we looking at?”

  “I’m supposed to administer the vaccine and place everyone on quarantine for 48 hours. Then, I have to perform a blood test on everyone before they will be allowed on the C-130s. I’m going to have my lab tech working nonstop for at least a day to process the tests. I might be in there with Hannah, just to help out. If I administer the vaccine tomorrow, I can start the blood tests on Friday. I told the Ambassador that we should plan on the evacuation to occur on Saturday evening. He’s sending out a management notice to all American employees tomorrow morning.”

  “I guess I’ll have to get with Rick tomorrow morning then. We’re going to have to be ready to roll on Saturday. Doc, make sure you lock the vaccine up.”

  “I will. Why don’t you take three doses home and have Hannah do the honors. I’m taking care of my family as soon as I get home.”

  “Would you like a weapon, doc? The streets are getting rough.”

  “I actually hoped you would give me a ride home. I don’t know the first thing about guns.”

  “Sure, you’re on the way.”

  Dillon stayed clear of the square by the shopping mall. There was too much going on there. He still had to back out of a checkpoint twice and take a more circuitous route to get doc to the 505. Then, he had some kids throw rocks and a few bottles at his suburban on the way to the 611. He waited as the local guards checked his ID and inspected the outside of his car before letting him in. He noticed the police booth was empty but was happy that the local guards hadn’t walked off the job yet. He then spent the next ten minutes carrying the crates up to his apartment on the third floor. Michael waited as patiently as he could, but started busily talking to Dillon as soon as Dillon had finished bringing everything up.

  “School was crazy today. Half the kids didn’t show up, and a lot of the teachers called off sick. Mom said that school is closed tomorrow. She said I can open up some of my presents tonight, too. What’s in all of the boxes?”

  “You can open up ALL of your birthday presents tonight. Mom will probably spend most of tomorrow working from home. Don’t touch the boxes.”

  “What’s in them?”

  Dillon smiled and playfully shoved Michael. He was always much more interested in his dad’s work than anything else.

  “MP-5s. Want to help me load magazines?”

  “Yeah! Can I see the MP-5s? I know all about them from playing Duty and Honor.”

  “Well, I’m sure you know something about them from your video games. Not enough to be playing with them. Where’s your mom?”

  “She’s doing laundry, I think.”

  Dillon immediately felt guilty about the laundry. He had placed a load in the washer that morning but hadn’t been home to move the clothes to the dryer.

  Dinner was chicken parmigiana and spaghetti. They talked a bit about what doc said, but didn’t want to worry Michael. After, they watched him from the couch as he opened up his birthday presents - an air soft pistol, a pocket knife, and two new video games.

  “Can I stay up and play them tonight, daddy?” Michael always used “daddy” instead of “dad” when he wanted something. Usually it
worked like a charm, but not tonight.

  “No, you can do your on line homework and THEN you can play your video games until nine. After that, shower and bed.”

  “Awww…”

  “Go on, do as your father said.”

  After Michael skulked out of the room, obviously highly disturbed by the invention of on line homework, Dillon had some time to talk privately with Hannah.

  “Doc gave me some vaccine. He said you should poke us tonight.” Dillon tried to joke about it, but had never been overly fond of needles.

  “Okay, we can do it before bedtime. Michael will be thrilled.” Hannah rolled her eyes.

  “Come on, he’s MUCH better at this than he used to be. We don’t have to hold him down anymore.”

  “Well, thank God for that. It’s hard enough dealing with you, you big baby. I don’t know how you can do what you do and be afraid of needles.”

  “I can’t explain it, hun. I’ll get through it. Why don’t you just do it now and get it over with?”

  “Sure. Where’s the vaccine?”

  “It’s in the fridge. Doc gave me three doses and some syringes.”

  “Okay, you big baby. Let’s do this.”

  Hannah smiled at Dillon with a look of sublime amusement as he sat down in a kitchen chair and rolled up his sleeve.

  “So we’re going to be evacuated again? Where this time?” Hannah had already been through TWO evacuations and was becoming an old pro. Right now, she was swabbing his arm with some alcohol.

  “My guess is Cyprus, but Malta and Crete are possibilities.”

  “I’ll pack bags tonight. What kind of weight limit?”

  “I’m guessing one suitcase per person plus carry on. I’m recommending that to Rick tomorrow morning.”

  “Are you coming with us this time?” It was a fair question. Dillon had stayed in Cairo during the last two evacuations.

  “I’ll meet you there afterward. I’ll be on the last flight out, with the Ambassador. It looks like they’ll be taking two trips, about eight hours apart. C-130s can carry 64 fully loaded paratroopers, or 92 soldiers. Let’s say closer to 64 with luggage. We’ll get 128 out about 20:00, and then they can send a single C-130 back on the same tank of gas and pick us up before 0300.”

  Hannah poked Dillon without warning, depressing the plunger and withdrawing the needle quickly and professionally, then immediately reaching for a band aid. “Okay. Do you want a Star Wars band aid or a plain one?

  Dillon looked at her piteously. “Star Wars, please.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Dillon loved Hannah for many reasons, but her nonchalance was at the top of the list. She had accepted the risks when she fell in love with him, and for that Dillon was infinitely grateful. “I’m going to finish up the laundry and pack the bags right out of the dryer.”

  “Okay, I’m going to start loading some of these magazines.”

  Dillon’s cell phone rang at eleven PM. He quickly stepped out of bed and answered it as he walked out of the bedroom and shut the door quietly behind him.

  “RSO Shay speaking.”

  “Hey, Dillon. Bryce. The Ministry of Health just announced a dusk to dawn curfew for the entire country. The Minister called it “the American Virus.” They also announced that the virus has taken hold in Suez, but they’re claiming they have it under control. We’re expecting a lot of resistance to the curfew, especially in Tahrir Square. We’re also starting to see a lot of demonstrators around the Embassy.”

  “Is the Ambassador going to let you close down and evacuate now?”

  “Yes, but it might be too late. I think we’re going to have to sit tight and wait this one out.”

  “Do you want me to come up there?”

  “No. I doubt one more person would do any good. The local guards and police are still on post, and the Egyptian Army brought in some APCs to park along our wall. I’ll keep in touch.”

  “Okay, Bryce. Hey….”

  “Yes, I know. Keep my head down. You know I will.”

  Bryce had the feeling he would be getting more phone calls throughout the night, and didn’t want to be constantly waking Hannah up, so he decided to bed down on the sofa for the rest of the night. Sure enough, the calls were rolling in throughout the night. A couple of ex-pats were caught outside during curfew and harassed by police before bribing their way out of it. The local guards at the USAID compound had some kids threaten the building. Later that night, someone threw a plastic bottle full of gasoline at the USAID wall. It made the worst Molotov cocktail ever, smoldering a bit at the base of the wall before going out. At dawn, the military placed movable concrete walls along the southbound roads leading to and from Tahrir Square. There was rioting and some sporadic gunfire in Maadi, with a few stores vandalized.

  Hannah was up making coffee at 7:00 AM, and Michael was up a half hour later eating breakfast before he started what would be a day of video games. Bryce had managed to load about half of the magazines for the MP-5 last night, and loaded the other half that morning, mostly before anyone else was awake.

  “Are you really going out today?” Hannah looked a little worried.

  “Yes, but not far. Doc said he would begin giving everyone the vaccine today, starting with the 611 compound. I figure I’ll need to give him a ride to USAID and back. After that I’ll be going back and forth between here and the 611 compound for most of the day. Oh, and I have a meeting with Rick today at noon.”

  “Tell him to come down here and I’ll cook something for lunch.”

  “I think he’s doing some paleo diet thing right now.”

  “I can make him a boring salad if he wants to punish himself.” she said with a grin.

  “Speaking of that, I haven’t worked out in a couple of days. I think I need to hit the gym.”

  “I think so, too.” she said, smacking him on the ass. Hannah had been big into cross training and running when he first met her, but Cairo wasn’t good for that. Still, she liked to run the interior of CAS, which was about half a mile, and she managed to hamster on the treadmill for a few miles every day. Occasionally, she would run a half marathon in Wadi Degla, a large, ancient, dried-out riverbed used as a recreational park by some of the ex-pats.

  “Hey, watch it.” he said, spinning around and lifting her up onto the kitchen counter with ease. Dillon was just shy of six feet tall and, at two hundred pounds, had almost eighty pounds on her.

  Hannah took the opportunity to latch her arms around him and kiss him deeply. A single kiss from Hannah seemed to last an hour.

  “Go work out. You have a busy day. Don’t forget to call me.”

  “I will call you often.”

  “You better.”

  Dillon ran a mile as a warm up, then switched to free weights for about twenty minutes before finishing up with a two mile run and a mile on the rowing machine. It felt good to blow off some steam, and he was still sweating as he toweled off from his shower and dressed himself. It was winter in Cairo, which meant sixty degree weather with occasional rain. He threw on a pair of tactical pants and a long sleeve shirt, then put on the paddle holster which would hold his USP and a magazine pouch that would hold two spare fifteen round magazines. Finally, he pulled up his pant leg and strapped on the ankle holster for his USP Compact. On the way out of the house, he threw on a plain, brown ball cap and a black field jacket shell.

  Hannah kissed him as he headed out the door. “You look like a contractor.”

  “Blackwater or Triple Canopy?”

  “Is there a difference?”

  “Blackwater needs a backpack to hold their money.”

  Hannah smiled. “Good one. Maybe you should have gone into contracting.”

  “Maybe I should have.”

  “Then you wouldn’t be here with us. We’d be in the States, missing you terribly. But, the paycheck….”

  “We do okay.”

  “We do great.” she said, planting another kiss.

  Michael walked by, evidently to get something to
drink. “Gross, guys.”

  “Whatever.” They both said in unison.

  Dillon called Doc on the way to the parking lot to offer him a ride to USAID. Doc seemed happy to accept, and soon they managed to snake their way through Maadi to the USAID compound, avoiding one new checkpoint on the way. Dillon noted a few Armored Personnel Carriers and at least one Main Battle Tank on the way, but it was still the early morning hours, and everything was quiet. He called Bryce while Doc grabbed the supplies he would need to start the inoculations, reporting the extra military hardware on the streets. Bryce told him that everything was quiet downtown, but he didn’t expect things to remain so.

  “So, you have the Ambassador packing his suitcase?”

  “I wish. I told him we had a window, but he thinks that the protests have died out and things will normalize.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think things are going to be touch and go as soon as the mosque lets out.” Friday was prayer day, and a lot of protests started in the mosques and spilled out onto the streets immediately following afternoon prayers.

  “Do we have some guys monitoring the mosques?”

  “I sent a couple of our locals to check things out. They’ll be able to give me a heads up.”

  “Good. Okay, Doc is ready to go. I’ll talk to you later. How many vials of vaccine should we save for you?”

  “Thirteen.” Dillon was pretty sure that was Bryce, ten Marines, the Ambassador, and the Ambassador’s assistant.”

  “Okay, we’ll keep them on ice.”

  “Excellent. Keep your head down.”

  “You too.”

  By then, Doc was settled into the suburban for the ride back to 611. The square near Road 8 was packed to the gills, and getting violent, and Dillon had to back out around several honking cars as a small group of locals banged on his hood. The smell of tear gas was already in the air, forcing Dillon to shut the vehicle vents. The traffic circle leading to Road 6 was empty of protesters, but there were a lot of local youth hanging around the sidewalks.

  “Hold on, this could get messy.” Is all Dillon said as he started to glide through the circle. The youth were immediately in the street, and Dillon came to a stop to avoid hitting them. They were pounding on the car and a few kids started to try to open the doors as one kid pounded on the window with his fist, a hatchet in his other hand.