Good news, REALLY bad news

The good news is that we returned the fishing boat crew to shore with no incident. None of them appear to be infected with anything worse than they put to sea with, which is to say four venereal diseases, two colds and a case of severe diarrhea due to some very spicy Mexican food that was consumed on the way to the crewman getting on the boat.

The bad news is that I just woke up in quarantine. My staff provided me with a laptop with a wireless connection so I could keep abreast of the situation and report my status or any symptoms I develop on an hourly basis. Basically, I am on work-from-home status and ‘home’ for the next seven days is a shipping container turned isolation chamber, under protocol that I dictated while driving to Baltimore.

Since I have a bit of down time here, I may as well relate as much of what happened as I can in the interest of keeping a good history of the situation.

Four members of my team, the two National Guard security men and I boarded the motorboat and sped out to the cabin cruiser. Two of my team (Davolo and Pierce), one of the security guards (Ephram) and I boarded the boat with the dead teens and sent the rest of the team with the motorboat over to the fishing trawler. They immediately tied off, boarded and began checking the fishermen for any unusual symptoms.

Davolo and Ephram went below to make sure the rest of the boat was clear, Pierce and I began our investigation at the bow, following orders from Admiral Davies to not approach the victims without someone with a gun watching over us. Over the radio Davolo reported that there was nothing below but a lot of blood and obvious signs of struggle as if someone had been fighting off an attacker while bleeding from a very bad wound. Ephram did not “report,” but it was obvious the muttered “Oh shit” and “My God” expletives that came over the radio were from him.

I looked toward the stern of the boat and noted a neck injury on one of the girls that could have easily sprayed most of her blood around if she were the victim in question. While I was looking at her, I swear one of the boys -- a hulking kid that had to be on the football team -- shifted his vacant stare to me, but I dismissed it and returned to examining the bow.

I told Davolo to stay below and keep cataloging what he saw with one of the video cameras we brought along for that purpose. Ephram was to come on deck and stand guard while I examined the bodies of the teens and then sealed them for transport to a lab where they would be fully autopsied in search of cause of death.

I approached the kids and caught that eerie feeling again of being watched. Again I dismissed it as the feeling you get when the eyes in a painting seem to be following you across a room.

All four kids were obviously the popular types from their school, and the fact that they were on this boat suggested money as well as good looks. I scanned the camera from left-to-right, feeling for a pulse on each as I did. None of them had one.

The first was a boy about six feet tall and 145 pounds. He was probably not into sports, he seemed instead to be one of those guys that never plays on a team but still hangs out with the preppy athletic crowd. Handsome with dark brown hair, he made me think of Christian Slater in his earlier days.

Second was a waif of a blonde. If she was not a cheerleader and homecoming queen, I would eat my lab coat. She was the one with the hole in her throat big enough to pour out all the blood she had in under a minute.

Third was the football player with his buzzed light brown hair -- as true to the Biff Tannen image as you could get without getting sued by Amblin Entertainment for copyright infringement.

Finally there was the girl with the auburn hair that reminded me of a Graduate Assistant named Gretchen that helped in my freshman chem class all those years ago when Eugene and I first met.

I moved closer to Christian and scanned him with the video camera from top to bottom, noting any wounds I encountered. That done, I took a step to the right and began repeating the process on the cheer queen.

I leaned in to get a close shot of the neck wound which was difficult since the light from the camera was throwing strange shadows in the darkness, and I wanted to have the most accurate record possible. As I concentrated on the image in the camera, Ephram shouted behind me, “Look out Doc!” and I suddenly felt something clamp on my right bicep.

I looked around and saw Biff clenching my arm. His eyes were still completely dead, but his mouth was now open, teeth exposed, a bit of blue smoke wafting from the back of his throat and spilling out over his chin. A gunshot sounded behind us and Biff and I both turned towards Ephram.

“Get your fuckin’ hand off the Doc right now or the next one doesn’t miss!”

Biff launched up from his seat, pushing me back and dropping me to the deck as he went. He flew amazingly fast toward Ephram who fired a shot into the boy’s shoulder. Bits of bone and tissue and surprisingly little blood erupted from the bullet hole. Biff twitched a little, but continued as if barely effected by the bullet.

“Stop or die!” Ephram screamed. He let Biff take another step and then put a bullet through his head. The football player lumbered forward on inertia, but fell quickly and crashed into the wall beside the door leading below deck. The force of his head hitting the wall caused it to crush flat like he had been crowned with a mallet that would make Gallagher envious.

I started to say “Oh my G--” when I realized the other three kids were falling on top of me. Reacting only on instinct, I got my right leg cocked, put it on Christian’s chest, and kicked him backwards. He teetered on the brink for a long second and then fell overboard.

Blondie had one hand on my knee, one on my ankle. She forced down with all her weight and her lips pulled back from her teeth like she was a dog about to bite its way through the rope that held it. This I saw from one corner of my eye.

The horror in the other corner was no less terrifying. In the same instant, the Gretchen-esque girl pinned my shoulder under one knee and lifted my gloved right hand to her face with such strength it was like I offered no resistance.

I heard Ephram shout “Back away, goddamn you!” but neither girl so much as paused. A shot exploded from his gun and Gretchen’s head erupted in spray of brain tissue and some blood and she slumped over onto Blondie just as the cheer queen bit through my biohazzard suit and into my shin.

I had time to notice blue smoke pour from Blondie mouth toward my wound, then another gun crack and my head swam and I passed out.

I was told later that one member of the second team jumped into the motor boat, collected me, took of my suit hood and attached an oxygen mask to my face that we had brought for the fishing boat crew. He rushed me to the dock as fast as the motor would push us.

I awoke here about two hours ago. Davolo told me that the cheer queen had been shot in the heart with the blast that I heard and stood to rush Ephram. She made it two running strides before he put a second bullet in her left temple. She dropped and did not get up again.

Davolo went on to explain that the team had dressed my wound, put me on every vital monitor we had at hand, and kept me on the respirator. So far, he said, nothing was showing out of the ordinary, but they planned to keep me in quarantine for a week per my protocol. I did not try to argue, I only asked that they keep me in the loop as much as possible, and he said that was the plan.

So I guess I am poised to run this hot zone from my sealed contain---

I think I just heard gunshots. I will write more after I find out what’s going on.