Free Pestilence: A Medical Thriller by Victor Methos

two-year-old sister. He didn’t feel well and hadn’t for four days. He was hot and sweaty, and his mother kept giving him water, juice, and ice cream, but none of it made him feel better. He’d thrown up a couple of times, but that had stopped two days ago.
    “Max, let’s play,” his brother Martin said. He flung a baseball at him , but Max couldn’t lift his arm in time to catch it. It struck him on the side of the head, and he fell back and lay on the grass. He wanted to lie in bed. It had been his mother’s idea to come out to get some air and sunshine. He sat up.
    “You all right?” Martin asked.
    Max s tood. His throat was on fire, and he took the soda Martin was holding. He drank down a few gulps before handing it back to him. “I don’t feel good.”
    “Oh my gosh!” Martin screamed. “Mom!”
     
     
    Rebecca White came out of the house and saw Max collapsed on the grass. Martin was standing next to him. Her eldest son and young daughter were playing on the other side of the yard.
    “Martin, what’s going on? What did you do to your brother?”
    Martin was trembling. As she came upon Max, she screamed.
    Blood was gushing out of his eyes and nose. He opened his mouth to talk , and a torrent of blood spewed out over Martin and the lawn. Max tried to cry, but vomited instead. Rebecca scooped up her son and ran to the car to drive him to the hospital, Max spitting up onto her chest and neck as she ran.

18
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Howie woke with a banging in his head and was sitting up before he even knew where he was. He always thought that people who’d been knocked out woke up slowly, like they did in the movies. He’d thought his vision would be blurry at first and then he would hear things and slowly come to. But that was not what happened.
    He was lost in a sea of darkness and barely aware of himself , and then, out of nowhere, he was back. He jumped up so violently that he tweaked his neck. He was leaning against a chain-link fence, but the area he was in was much smaller than what he remembered. Around him were four other men and only three cots.
    “You al l right?” one of them said, a man in a tank top, whose arms were covered with tattoos.
    “ That’s the second time that’s happened today.” Howie groaned, twisting his neck. “Where am I?”
    He shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. We still in LA , though, but we ain’t near no beach.”
    Howie looked around. He was surrounded by trees, and a single guardsman sat at a table, with his feet up.
    “What is this place?”
    “Told you, man, we don’t know nothin’. They ain’t sayin’ shit.”
    Howie rose to his feet. He was dizzy and touched his face, feeling the stickiness of dried blood. “My daughter,” he said. “I left my daughter at that place by herself.”
    “Take it up with him,” he said, pointing with his chin to the guardsman. “But he ain’t in a talkin’ mood. That one there tried to talk to him, and the soldier damn near shot him. If I were you, I’d keep quiet right now. Everyone’s on edge.”
    Howie shook his head. “This is America,” he said, a hint of panic in his voice. “This is fucking America. They can’t do this.”
    “Hey , man, you preachin’ to the choir. I lived off the grid in Montana lotta years. Then I come here for work and ain’t here but six months, and now I’m in a cage. But shit, how’d people like you not see this comin’? All them phone records and e-mails the government was collectin’. Our passwords, bank info, what movies and books we liked. What did you think they was gonna use all that for? This is about control, man. That’s the only thing government can do. Control. Ain’t got no other purpose. It’s blind to everything else.”
    Howie leaned back against the fence, putting his hands to his head. He took a deep breath to calm himself, but it didn’t help. “There’s gotta be a way out of here. I have to get back to my daughter.”
    He shrugged.