The Plum Island Conspiracy — Part 2

Series — Samuel learns what the team is up against on the island, while trying to save another survivor who had a close encounter with an infected deer

Photo by Jack Ward on Unsplash

Earlier…

The first hour in the Coast Guard station felt as though it dragged on for an eternity. Samuel spent the time completely engrossed in his thoughts. Although he had worked for years on the island, the death of his coworker came as a crippling shock. Despite all the orientation and training, an actual viral outbreak at the facility had been inconceivable. He tried with all his willpower to stop imagining what it would feel like for his brain to rupture and leak out his eyes and ears.

Though there were no windows on the second floor, Samuel and the other guards were able to see what was going on around the building through the security cameras that had been wired up outside. Some were mounted to the building, while others were attached to the various tree-stand outposts that dotted the island. There were a handful that offered a view of the laboratory, but none gave them a glimpse at the delivery entrance, or the facility’s interior.

Samuel had retreated to the makeshift kitchen – although he was not hungry – to pass a few of the creeping minutes. Since the real kitchen had been ripped out of the first floor, the few men stationed on the island had made do with a handful of plastic folding tables, a few Coleman camp stoves, and a microwave oven. Since none of them ever felt like cooking a proper meal after a long day on patrol, they prepared most food by boiling water, or heating up something in the microwave.

Usually one worker would bring a new supply of groceries when they rotate back onto Plum Island, from the mainland.

Samuel was wide awake, but craving coffee to soothe his splitting headache. He reached into a black trunk – which served as their dry pantry in absence of cabinets – and took out a coffee filter, and a can of Five O’clock grounds. As he tucks the filter into the top of their Mr. Coffee, Jeffry enters from the radio room.

“Putting a pot on?” He asked Samuel.

“It’s gonna be a long night.”

Jeffry laughed nervously. “I ah, talked to the field commander here.”

“Good news, I hope,” Samuel replied. He plopped a few scoops of grounds into the machine.

“They can see the deer on infrared, but they aren’t willing to come onto the island just yet,” Jeffry explained.

“What are they waiting for?”

“To hear back from the lab.”

“No one has radioed in yet?” Samuel asked. He looked at Jeffry, bemused.

“Absolutely zero contact. I thought they would have turned tail as soon as their deer escaped, but the National Guard says no one has left the island,” Jeffry answered.

“Didn’t you talk to someone there an hour or two ago?”

“Yeah, and we’ve heard nothing since.”

“This whole thing really bothers me. It seems impossible,” Samuel shook his head.

“Outbreaks happen. At least this facility is remote. We’re sealed somewhere safe,” Jeffry reasoned.

“No; the way it happened feels wrong. A live animal managed to get out of a secure laboratory? I could understand if contaminated water was spilled, a sample vial was dropped, but a living thing managed to escape without anyone noticing or stopping it? I don’t believe it.”

Jeffry pondered this for a moment. “You think someone let the deer out?”

“I don’t think this was an accident, no. But that doesn’t help us out much now, does it?” Samuel said. Then, deciding to change the subject: “How’s Collins?”

“Downstairs; HAZMAT’s keeping an eye on him. No symptoms yet, so we might have cleaned him up in time. But obviously we can’t risk our lives to bring him upstairs until we know for sure.”

“Why did you let me in so quickly then?”

“Because you never came in direct contact.”

“Collins touched the deer?”

“Collins touched Sanders’s blood.”

“I know it’s not safe to bring him in, but can we talk with Collins over the speaker?” Samuel asked thoughtfully. “I’m going crazy sitting in here, doing nothing.”

“What are you expecting to find out?” Jeffry mused. “The cure? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Samuel poured a pot of water into the machine, shut the lid, and quickly slid the empty pot beneath the spout, catching the first drop of coffee without spilling any. He reached over to a nearby tabletop and grabbed an empty paper cup from a towering stack. Incinerating trash was easier than washing dishes.

“It’s something to do,” he said simply. “I want to at least get an idea of what we’re dealing with out there.”

Jeffry shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Samuel poured himself a cup – hold the cream and sugar – and headed down the hall toward the radio room. He sat down in front of a sturdy wooden desk, which bore deep scratches from careless crew members, dragging heavy equipment across the surface.

Samuel set the coffee down near one of the dozens of rings left behind by previous beverages, and reached for a headset.

“Hello, this is Samuel Piper. I’d like to speak with Collins, if he’s able,” He said. He releases the talk button, and waits. After a few seconds of silence, the radio crackled.

“One second, Piper,” a voice answers from the set of speakers before him.

“Hello? This is Collins,” A second voice piped up. “What is it?”

“Collins, how are you holding up?”

“I’m pretty shook up, I’ll be honest. They told me I’m probably okay; they’re just being safe. But my God… whatever Sanders had we do not want,” he answered.

“The last thing you probably want to do is re-live it. But can you tell me what you saw?”

Silence.

After a few moments passed, Samuel heard Collins exhale deeply. “Alright. I was in my tower. My goggles were fogging up and I couldn’t see for shit. I just barely catch the outline of a buck walking through the trees. But it’s not walking right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you ever seen a dog run? They use their front feet to pull the ground toward them, then fling their back legs forward, push off the ground with both hind legs, and start the cycle over again. It’s like they use ‘em in pairs. I reckoned it was hurt already, so I lined up a shot with my tranq. I squeezed off a shot, and I know it hit.”

“How did you know?” Samuel asked.

“The buck flinched, looked around… and I know it sounds unbelievable, but it growled at me. Like a wolf, or bear,” Collins explained.

“The same thing happened to me,” Samuel remarked. “Thought I was hearing things.”

“You most definitely were not,” Collins answered gruffly. His coarse voice was scarcely louder than a whisper, but came through the radio with perfect clarity.

Samuel shuddered. “What happened after you hit the deer, and it growled at you?”

“Walked off the same way it walked over,” he offered. “Now, I figured I hit it. But I guessed the caps didn’t work or the plunger got stuck, maybe the serum was old. I was hoping it was just working slower than normal. I reloaded my tranq, but before I could line up another shot, the damn thing was out of range. Kept it in my sights as long as I could, in case it came back my way. Damn thing didn’t show any sign of dropping at that point.

“I was about to call it in when I saw something moving. Lined up another shot, only this wasn’t a deer; it was a person walkin’ a little slumped over.”

“Sanders,” Samuel breathed.

“Mhm. Couldn’t tell at the time, ‘course. But I could see he was looking in the ground, half crouched down. Think he was following tracks.”

“Jesus, he followed it all the way from his post?”

“Must’ve. He probably saw the way it was walking and thought it was already injured. I mean he’s not wrong – I don’t think this deer can run. But Piper, he caught it.”

“What?” Samuel demanded.

“I called out, he didn’t answer. Then he collapsed. I ran over and when I found him, he was carrying a hunting knife. The blade, his hands, and his front were covered in this black stuff – looked like watered-down tar. At that point his goggles had been knocked off and he was bleeding pretty bad. I bent down to see where it was coming from.

“So much had pooled around his eyes, I thought he cut his head, but…” Collins trailed off. “I’m sorry. H-he started groaning and flailing. He dropped the knife and started clawing at his eyes. Then he just-just shrieked at me.”

Collins fell silent. Samuel could just make out the sounds of muffled sobbing and shallow breathing. He gave the fellow guard a few minutes to collect his thoughts. Eventually, Collins steadied his breathing and continued recounting: “He was just thrashing around in the mud, bleeding out his nose and ears too. And he screamed, ‘Kill me, please fucking kill me! It burns,’ he yelled, ‘just fucking end it!’” Collins recalled. “I took out my sidearm and—” His voice shook as his breath rattled uncontrollably again.

“—I emptied a whole clip into him before he died. He was screeching and flailing until the end. I figured coming so close to him, there was a good chance I picked up whatever virus he got from the buck. But just in case, I took off my jacket and wrapped it around my hands. That’s how I dragged him back here. Hazmat took him and tossed his body in the incinerator. Then they hosed me down,” Collins finished.

“The body’s gone?” Samuel asked.

“Yeah,” Collins replied.

While the idea of further desecrating Sanders’ corpse didn’t particularly appeal to him, part of him had hoped to get some concrete proof of the symptoms they were faced with, perhaps even get a sample for the laboratory. But Jeffry was right: with rudimentary medical training only a step above a Boy Scout’s First Aid merit badge, his odds of learning anything helpful from Sanders’ corpse were slim. Besides, the inherent risk in keeping the cadaver around was astronomical.

As a few more minutes slipped by, Samuel recognized the guard was done talking.

“Thank you for your help, Collins. I’m sorry,” he offered.

Samuel signed off, removed his headset, and put his head in his hands.

At the very least, he had been able to confirm a few things. The symptoms, for example, matched perfectly with what the boys in the lab had said: severe hemorrhaging, and bleeding from the eyes, ears, and nose. Blood pooling in the skull and possible pressure on the brain could explain the mania. What troubled Samuel was that Collins had killed Sanders. He understood why; the act itself seemed completely justifiable if not merciful. But based on the buck still lumbering around the island, Samuel was willing to bet the mystery ailment didn’t cause death quickly. If left alone, would Sanders still be stumbling after the very deer that afflicted him?

Jeffry wrapped on the doorframe, shaking Samuel from his thoughts.

“What did I tell you?”

“You were right,” Samuel admitted. “But this was helpful. We still don’t know anything for certain but we can make a few safe assumptions.”

“Safe,” Jeffry chuckled.

Ignoring the retort, Samuel continued; “Cross-species transmission is possible.”

“Obviously.”

“Symptoms become obvious pretty quickly. It’s only about a ten-minute walk from post three to four. That means Sanders had shorter than that to catch up to the buck, and become infected. I know we have to be extra safe, but I’m pretty sure Collins is fine,” Samuel reasoned. His eyes darted upward as he contemplated this for a moment. “Physically speaking, of course,” he clarified.

“You don’t think it’s airborne then?”

“If it was we’d all be sick already. Collins says Sanders was covered in that thing’s blood.”

“You are making a few leaps here, Piper. We have no proof to back this up.”

“I don’t like the alternative, Pike,” Samuel snapped. “The national guard got pretty quiet out there didn’t they? I wonder why they haven’t come ashore yet to rescue us. I’m sure at least one person has suggested firebombing us.”

“That’s insane.”

“I imagine it would be preferable to this infecting the deer population on Long Island and spreading to seven million people. The idea is only going to sound more attractive the longer this drags on. I’d rather figure a way out of this without the National Guard – and certainly before the army shows up.”

Jeffry shook his head. “We stay put for now. We don’t have enough—”

“Stay back!” a voice from downstairs shouted, cutting off Jeffry. “I’m warning you!”

The two made a mad dash for the security feed room and start scanning the angles surrounding the building. Then they saw it: right in front of the building’s main entrance, about a hundred feet from the threshold, was a man in a filthy lab coat. Both his hands were raised above his head. In one fist, he clutched something thin and rectangular – the grainy quality of the camera made it impossible to tell precisely what.

“I won’t say it again,” the voice bellowed from the ground floor.

On the camera, Jeffry and Samuel saw a HAZMAT-protected man step forward into the frame. He leveled his pistol at the approaching intruder.

“Please, I’m clean,” the man begged. “We need to get this out.” He shakes the object in his hand.

The guard had already begun to apply pressure on the trigger when Samuel slammed his fist down on the intercom.

“Wait!” he barked. “Stand down!”

Next episode coming soon

Thank You for Reading!

This post is part of the Plum Island Novella, following journalist Calvin Noble’s attempts to uncover a lab leak at a controversial research facility.

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