Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Deep, even breaths. Passing out in a panic isn’t going to help. I need to choose my words with care and talk him into setting me free. Get him to see me as a person with my own wants and rights and needs. “How long do I have to stay here? When will you admit that you made a mistake?”
“You want a time frame?”
“Yes, please.”
“I don’t know,” he says. “Say a fortnight to be safe.”
“You want me to sit in this cage for two weeks?”
“Think about it. We’re probably going to know what’s going on a hell of a lot sooner. The first time anyone heard of this virus was through some vague reports from Europe and Asia on Saturday. But by Sunday, it was already here and circulating amongst the general population. Forget quarantine measures failing. We never even had a chance to implement them,” he says in a clear, concise voice. “As for the incubation period—you have someone picking a friend up from the airport Sunday afternoon and dying early Monday morning. There were underlying conditions in that case…but still. Others have reported a couple of days between first experiencing symptoms and succumbing to the virus.”
“I know all of this.”
He nods. “Good. That’s good. Let me tell you something you might not know. The survival rate is zero, the communicability rate is through the roof, and the current death toll is millions more than we’re being told.”
“Oh, come on. You don’t think that all sounds a little paranoid? I know there are a lot of conflicting reports on social media. But how would they hide that kind of thing from us?”
“By shutting down the schools and telling us to stay home and stay safe,” he says. “Finding cause to block the largest social media site for the spread of news and information wouldn’t have hurt either. And this isn’t exactly the first time the government has lied to us about something.”
“Okay. Why are they doing it?”
“To avoid people panicking.”
“Where are you getting your information from?”
“I spent some time in the Marines. Just long enough to get shipped out, blown up, and discharged,” he says with a rueful smile.
“So you have cause to hate the government.”
“Doesn’t everybody these days?” he asks. “But the point is, I still have friends that are active in those circles. One of them has been working for a private firm. They’ve got her moving people around for the CDC and evacuating government officials from Washington. That sort of thing.”
“Washington?” I cock my head. “But their figures are low. They’re doing great with social distancing and hand washing.”
“The inner-city hospitals are full and they’re about to run out of body bags. Then they’ll start running out of doctors and nurses. Washington has such a transient and social population. All of those important people, flying around the world and having meetings. And it hasn’t even been a week since we first heard of this thing.”
“I’m just supposed to take your word for this?”
He nods at the TV. “They’re not going to be able to hide the truth for much longer. Not with things going the way they are…”
“I have another question.” I sit up straight and take a deep breath. “Have you ever done anything like this before?”
“No. My worst crimes before this were some speeding tickets and a bar fight in Boulder, Colorado. Which I didn’t start, by the way.”
“And does your friend know what you’re doing to me?”
“She does not.”
“Why me, Dean?” My hand itches to slap him. Not that it would help a thing. “Why am I important to you?”
He doesn’t answer for a moment. “I have clear line of sight to your apartment door from my living room window, and…”
“You’ve been watching me?”
His jaw shifts, but he doesn’t say a word. What an asshole.
“For how long?”
“Guess it’s been a while now,” answers my stalker. “The thing is, your trip out last night would have killed you. I had to stop you. But I would have had to do something sooner rather than later. Couldn’t risk someone knocking on your door for whatever reason. Or you rushing off to help a sick friend or family member who could be contagious.”
I shake my head. There’s no talking him out of this delusion, however. “Can I have my phone?”
“Let’s talk about that later.”
“How high exactly is the mortality rate? Do you even know or are you just guessing?”
He frowns. And I mean, he really puts his whole heart and soul into the furrows happening on his high forehead. Then eventually, he says, “My friend was working close protection for a top government epidemiologist the first few days when all of this started. They seemed to think we’re looking at ninety-nine percent of the population. Anything around those levels is Armageddon.”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Not for a while. “You don’t really believe that. Come on. I watch the History channel, and not even the bubonic plague did those sorts of numbers. Not even close.”