“Area 2, Sector 4, Building 9,” Felix panted, shuddering as a lady sprouted blisters before his eyes.
“Processing,” the voice announced. Then, an eternity later, “Please advance.”
He almost laughed, the change was so abrupt. One moment he was being hemmed in by death; the next he was standing in front of his building and a warm sun was caressing him. He almost convinced himself he’d escaped the disaster, when he spied a figure immediately before him: half the man’s body was sprawled on the pathway, while half was lying on the manicured lawn. The victim was dressed in a black Zacron suit and was clutching a book that was bound in blue leather, his fingertips a telltale scarlet. The face was turned away, but Felix knew who it was.
“Dad!” he screamed, hastening forward.
“Don’t approach him!” a voice called from above. “You’ll get yourself infected. Besides, a Medevac will be here soon.”
Ignoring this advice, Felix ran to his father. He was very still, didn’t seem to be breathing and his face was disfigured with disquieting blisters. Just as Felix was assuming the worst, Mr. Taylor opened his eyes and managed a faint smile.
“Fili mi. Thank goodness you’re here.”
“Don’t speak. Save your strength.”
“Felix. Listen closely. We’ve seen this plague before. Aceticus describes it.”
“Shh,” Felix soothed him, thinking he was confused. “A Medevac is on the way.”
Sure enough there was a buzzing overhead and, above the treetops, a Medevac swooped near. As it hovered closer, Felix glanced into its cockpit: the sight of the auto-drive was deeply unnerving.
“Felix?”
“Yes, Dad?”
“It’s all in there,” his father wheezed, motioning to the book by his side. “Read it carefully. It might prove useful.”
“The Medevac’s above us,” Felix said.
“We survived the plague once, and we can survive it again if —”
“This is Medevac OS3201,” an automated voice announced, cutting Mr. Taylor off. As the vehicle hovered fifty feet above the ground, a panel opened and released a one-man stretcher that descended on a trio of miniature jets. Felix didn’t like the look of this contraption: with its transparent cover and retractable arms, whose ends were equipped with metal grapplers, it resembled more a beast of prey than a medical contrivance.
“Felix,” his father whispered. His voice was growing weaker.
“Yes, Dad?”
“You’ve made me proud. I’m lucky to have had a son like you.”
“Don’t give up. The doctors will help ….”
“Step aside from the patient,” the voice declared. The stretcher was only four feet off the ground and was casting a shadow over Mr. Taylor. Already both its arms were extended. Felix shifted slightly, to accommodate the stretcher, but continued clutching his father.
“Read Aceticus,” he gasped. His eyes were fluttering shut.
“I will. And when you return —”
“Puer mi, this is serious …”
“You’ll get better. Mom will return and —”
“Remember me!” his father cried.
The stretcher had landed. With mechanical efficiency, its arms seized hold of Mr. Taylor and lifted his body onto the mattress. Two bands of metal secured him in place.
“Remember me!” his father repeated, squeezing his son one final time. He then fainted and his hand slipped from Felix’s fingers. There was a pneumatic hiss as the cover drew closed. Before Felix could speak, the stretcher started to rise.
“Don’t go!” Felix cried. “I want to stay with my father!”
“Remain still please,” a voice addressed him.
Felix had to cover his eyes. A pulsing light passed over his body and seemed to ignite his internal organs, as if the beam were entering every one of his cells. For a moment Felix couldn’t breathe — he felt he was drowning in a pool of sunlight. Then the blaze quickly vanished and he opened his eyes.
“Our probes show you are uninfected,” the voice said. “This vehicle is reserved for patients who are ill.”
“My father needs me! He’ll be lonely by himself …!”
“Transport regulations cannot be broken.”
“Then tell me where you’re taking him!”
“Consult Health Services for that information.”
“That’s ridiculous! Wait! Don’t go!”
But the stretcher was inside the vessel now. And once its egress had been resealed, the craft rose quickly and fired its thrusters. A moment later it had disappeared.
Felix was dumbfounded. His father was … gone. When would he see him? He wasn’t going to …?
A noisy buzzing interrupted his thoughts. A second Medevac passed and paused above a nearby building. Dozens were now visible — they seemed to occupy the heavens. In the downtown area a siren was blaring.
Felix stirred himself. Retrieving his father’s blue book, he shot into their building and raced past the entrance. In the lobby he ignored a man who was prostrate on the tiles and being “prepped” by a Personal Servant. He held his breath as he rode a Vacu-lift and hurried down a hallway and paused before a security scan. And when he was safe inside the dwelling, he directed Mentor to bolt the doors and windows. Still not satisfied with these precautions, he ran to his bedroom and hid under the blankets.
And still he was sure that Death was lurking in the shadows.
Chapter Four
“Felix?’
“Yes?”
“It is five minutes to three.”
“So?”
“You must step inside the Health Cell.”
“You can’t scan me with your sensors?”
“We have discussed that already. My sensors cannot screen for the virus.”
Felix scowled. It had been two weeks since his father’s collapse and the president’s announcement of a global crisis. In that interval, the plague had spread so widely that the sick by far outnumbered the healthy.
Everything had changed. In keeping with the president’s edict, all shuttles had been grounded, all Portals had been closed, and it was forbidden to stray outdoors or even open a window. That morning Felix had logged onto the WSRS (World Satellite Reconnaissance System) and inspected cities across the globe. Each had been abandoned: in New York, London, Hong Kong, and Nairobi the main streets had been empty, except for the occasional cat or dog. It was as if the planet were one gigantic … graveyard.
“Felix, it is now two minutes to three.”
“Remind me why I need to be examined.”
“Failure to submit to examination …
“Will result in immediate incarceration. So?”
“Please, Felix. I understand you are troubled, but you must remain focused.”
Felix frowned from his perch on a couch. Ten days earlier he’d contacted the World Health Service — it had taken him over a week to get through — to inquire about his father’s condition. After obtaining his father’s serial number, an auto-clerk had told him