The M Strain

35

Donald was sitting on the couch in the den when the noise came. What’s that? he asked his wife. Shelly responded with a grunt and a shake of her shoulders. The grinding was somewhat metallic in nature; more like metal being scraped on the street, being destroyed. They both jumped up and rushed to the front bay window in the living room. Outside the world was a dimming white. Earlier that day a small snowstorm had engulfed the small community in Southern Indiana. The snow plows were quick to get out and most of the streets were clear. Okay, fairly clear. The street that Donald and Shelly Taylor lived on had been cleaned until the asphalt was showing. Hey that’s what they paid their homeowners dues for, right?

As Shelly grabbed one end of the curtains to peek through, Donald grabbed the other end and threw full open his side of the curtains. What they saw puzzled them. A car was driving quite fast through their neighborhood. Only the car wasn’t exactly in good shape. As a matter of fact, the car was falling apart. The driver’s side front and rear quarter panels had been dented in pretty good. The driver’s side view mirror was barely hanging on for dear life. The trunk lid was up and bouncing wildly. The front bumper was hanging off and was obviously the cause of the metal on asphalt noise that Donald had heard earlier.

A quick glance down the street told the story of the destroyed car. Almost every car parked on the side of the street had been scraped, crashed into, or in some way damaged by the crazy motorist.

Donald, look! screamed Shelly. This sudden outburst snapped him back to the present situation and Donald realized that the motorist was still coming this way, swerving crazily and heading right for them. Oh, shit! exclaimed Donald as the motorist turned his car and headed right for the house. Donald and Shelly jumped back from the window. Shelly started a sprint towards the other room while Donald didn’t make it two feet. His right big toe stubbed into the corner of the bookcase that housed their enormous collection of books. Donald went to the floor grabbing his throbbing toe and holding it in immense pain. What seemed like an eternity passed and Donald had wondered why the car never ran into the house. Maybe it passed us, he muttered. Shelly finally returned to the room with a confused look on her face.

Donald, what happened? asked Shelly.

I hit my damn toe on the bookcase and it hurts like hell! snapped Donald.

I meant with the car….are you okay honey? asked Shelly.

Donald glared up at Shelly as she moved over to the bay window. Shelly drew back the curtain and her eyes went wide. She couldn’t believe what she saw. Donald was still on the floor but recognized the look on her face. Something had happened. The car didn’t pass them. Donald looked up and saw the steam from the radiator rising into the fading light of the day. He rose from the floor and hobbled over to the big, front, bay window. From here he saw now what Shelly was so surprised at. The car had careened towards the house. However, it was stopped by the massive oak tree that stood out in the front yard.

I am glad that was there, whispered Shelly.

You’re telling me, said Donald.

What do we do now? asked Shelly.

I guess we better see if the driver is okay, suggested Donald.

The Taylors hurried off to their bedroom upstairs to dress for the outside weather. Shelly fished through her top dresser drawer finding a pair of socks and then headed to the walk-in closet to grab her jacket. Donald grabbed his jacket off of the end of the bed; he had placed it there earlier after coming home from grocery shopping with Shelly. He then hurried over to his dresser and grabbed some socks. They both started down the stairs to put their shoes on and Donald stopped.

I will meet you at the front door, Donald told Shelly.

What do you mean meet me? asked Shelly.

I mean we don’t know what state of mind the driver is in. I’m going to say the person is hurt but is he messed up on PCP or alcohol? We don’t know. So I intend to bring some leverage. I’ll meet you down there, stated Donald.

Okay, well don’t take too long, Shelly said with understanding eyes.

I won’t, assured Donald. But keep the door locked until I get there, alright?

Shelly started down the stairs and Donald walked back into the bedroom and headed for the walk-in closet. On his way he stopped at his dresser and opened the second drawer and fished around until he found what he was looking for. He approached the closet and reached in and flipped on the light and headed toward the rear of the closet. He turned right, toward his clothes, and bent down. Donald pulled out a locked box. He shuffled the key he had just grabbed from his dresser and moved it from his palm into his fingers. He unlocked the box and grabbed his 9MM and a full clip. Donald inserted the clip and pulled back on the slide. A round was chambered and Donald was ready for whatever might happen. He made his way down the stairs and stopped by the kitchen on the way to the living room to put on his shoes. Shelly was waiting nervously by the front door when Donald came around the corner. Donald flashed the gun towards Shelly and she nodded ever so slightly. Donald left the safety off and then slid the gun between his pants and his lower back. He reached up and drew back the deadbolt and then unlocked the door from the doorknob.

The Taylors came out of the front door almost at the same time. The cold air pulled hard on their lungs and the slight wind that was there started almost immediately to nip at the skin beneath their clothing. Donald took a defensive posture. His right hand slid down the small of his back and he grasped the gun. He kept his eyes on the driver’s side of the car and advanced in an arc towards the vehicle. Shelly hung back and stayed ever alert. As Donald approached the car he could see now that the driver’s side window had been smashed. He noticed that the driver was a black male, maybe early thirties, with blood all over his face. As Donald got closer he noticed now that it wasn’t only blood on his face; there were boils and sores that had formed on almost every inch of his disease-ridden mug. Donald realized that the blood on his face was not from the accident but from the boils and sores. He also realized that the gun was not going to be necessary. The driver was definitely dead. He slid the safety back on and pulled his shirt and jacket back over the piece. Maybe the accident was caused because of his medical issue, Donald thought.

Donald, what’s going on? Donald’s thoughts were interrupted by Shelly trying to find out what the hold-up was.

Stay there, honey, Donald said. As a matter-of-fact, could you go call 911? Make sure they bring an ambulance or something because this guy is not walking away.

Donald started to back away from the car when the sound of an approaching vehicle caught his attention. Donald looked up and saw a black van approaching. Shelly had already walked inside to call 911. Donald watched the van as it slowed in front of the accident. The back opened up and three large people jumped out dressed in white medical suits. The suits had their own supplied air from a small tank strapped to their back. Donald also noticed that two of the white-suited men were holding M-4’s. The third had a Desert Eagle strapped to his leg.

Who are you? Donald shouted. The two men with M-4’s, Donald could see through the face masks that they were men, headed straight for the driver’s side of the wrecked car. The last man approached Donald.

Sir, I am going to need you to come with us. said the man in the white suit as he tapped the gun at his side.

Excuse me?! exclaimed Donald.

Sir, we have an issue we need to contain and I am going to need you to come with us.

"What is going on? What do you mean, contain?" asked Donald.

Sir, is there anyone else in the house with you? asked the man as he unstrapped his hulking gun holster.

Well, yes my wife is but… stammered Donald.

The man in the white suit spoke into his face mask, We’ve got one inside, also. Another white suit man jumped out of the back and headed for the front door, M-4 over his shoulder. Donald was so surprised at the scene before him that he couldn’t move and he didn’t know what to do. Again Donald asked, "What do you mean contain?"

Take your fucking hands off of me! Shelly shouted as a man in a white suit shuffled her out the front door.

The man standing in front of Donald produced a badge and shoved it in Donald’s face.

Sir, we are with Homeland Security and I suggest you cooperate. This could go easy or hard for you both. It’s your choice, the man said.

Honey, they are with Homeland Security, just listen to them, Donald shouted over to Shelly after staring at the man’s badge.

Shelly and Donald were escorted over to the van. At about that time two more black vans showed up and parked behind the first. Another man in a white suit exited the back of the second van and he had what looked to be a weird backpack on his shoulders. The two men that had been at the wrecked car shuffled past the first van with the body from the car. The two men threw the body into the back of the second van. At this time the white suit man that had initially approached Donald started pushing Donald and Shelly towards the last van. Donald peered over his shoulder and found out what the backpack was for. It was a flamethrower and the white suit man was laying waste to the wrecked car. It was completely engulfed in flames. The big oak the car had wrecked into was starting to catch fire also. Donald and Shelly were pushed into the back of the third van and the doors were slammed shut.

Donald, what the hell is going on? asked Shelly.

I have no idea, said Donald. "One of the white suit men told me that they had an issue they had to contain." Donald used air quotes when he said contain. Wouldn’t there have been something on the news if there were some kind of outbreak or something?

Donald, I’m scared, said Shelly.

So am I, honey. So am I.

Eight hours earlier:

Voyshaun was on his couch when the message came through his phone. Damn it, he thought. He was in the middle of a new X-box game and he didn’t want to be disturbed. He paused the game and reached for his cell phone. New deal – HUGE! Want in? it said. Of course he wanted in. Voyshaun had lost his job at the parts plant and was always looking for work even if it was sometimes a little illegal. Hey, a man had to eat. Hell yes! When/Where? he typed back. Voyshaun got up and headed to the refrigerator for a beer. This might take a minute. He made it to the refrigerator in time for the text to arrive at his phone. ‘Wow that was quick,’ he thought. He grabbed his beer anyway and returned to the living room. Voyshaun plopped down on the couch and grabbed his cell phone. New location: OWD. Fell N 2 sumthing and have to deal immed… hour and a half. Now that was quick. An hour and a half! This must be important, especially to deal down at the OWD, the Old Warehouse District. This just might be a big score, too. I’m in, he typed back. Voyshaun was suddenly overtaken by thoughts of what this new deal could be. Couldn’t be drugs, could it? I mean, that wouldn’t be that quick. Not only that but that kind of deal usually only happened at night. Guns? Maybe so. Again though, deals like that usually only happen at night. And what does that mean ‘fell n 2 sumthing’. Voyshaun tried to push his questions aside. He would be finding out real soon. He got up and headed for his bedroom. Voyshaun turned on the hot water and let it run for a minute. He laid out his outfit for the deal; which included a gun holster. He had gotten that at a flea market downtown. He thought it was kind of cool. Once the water was hot enough Voyshaun adjusted the temp with the cold water and then jumped into the shower.

Voyshaun Mitchell was chomping at the bit when he pulled onto Credenza Street and headed east. The Old Warehouse District was coming up soon and he still had no idea what the meeting was all about. He reminded himself that it must be something really big to do the deal in the middle of the day. Voyshaun came to a red light and stopped. Not much activity in this neighborhood anymore, he thought. It used to be booming with activity. Then the fucking dirty corporate bastards fired everyone and moved the business down to Mexico. Just like my job at the plant. What a rat hole. His thoughts were interrupted by the light turning green and Voyshaun pushed on the accelerator. As Voyshaun started forward he looked up into the rearview mirror. He noticed someone was behind him. It wasn’t that unusual, except for the fact of his location. Voyshaun’s phone rang.

Hello? he said.

Let ‘em ahead of you and then follow ‘em, said the voice.

Darius? That you homey?

Course foo’, follow ‘em to the warehouse.

Aight bruh, Voyshaun agreed.

Voyshaun slowed down and pulled to the right. The car pulled next to him and the driver locked eyes with him. The driver was of Asian descent, maybe Chinese, maybe Japanese. Voyshaun didn’t know. Hell, they all look the same to him anyway. The driver was dressed in a nice suit with a thin, long, deep scarlet tie. He had a scar that went from the right corner of his mouth to the back of the lower lobe of his right ear. Voyshaun thought the driver’s stare was the signal to follow because immediately afterward the car pulled away and took the