Pink Eye

By Carla Herrera

"compare it to the movie 'Super 8'. Strong and interesting characters well depicted, then placed into the familiar situation of the little guy against the big bad military types." -- Author, Tom Lichtenberg.

Something is going on at Central Laboratories. Smart rats and a deadly virus do not mix well and when two of the infected animals escape to a nearby city, the good citizens of Gilbert, Indiana are suddenly in for a very bad time.

As a single mom and an assistant to the director of the Arts Alive Program, Connie Benson leads a quietly satisfying, but average life. That changes one Saturday afternoon when she takes her son to the carnival and ends up escaping a quarantine.

A quiet do-gooder suddenly turns into a religious avenger, a man beats his neighbor's car into a pile of scrap with a baseball bat, a woman slices her own throat in front of police officers and everyone in Gilbert is dreading what may come next.

It only gets worse when bizarre circumstances set the scene for a panic-stricken populace.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carla Herrera
• Release date: Jan 16, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466054820

Carla Herrera

Mexican-American literary feminist and author and graphic artist.You can see some of my artwork on Redbubble and support an indie artist:https://www.redbubble.com/people/crherrera/shop

Book preview

Pink Eye

By

Carla R. Herrera

Smashwords Edition

This is a work of fiction. Characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental or used fictitiously.

All rights reserved

Copyright © 2012 Carla R. Herrera

No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

Chapter 1

Thursday Morn

Laughter made its way in through the open bedroom window. Mark sought refuge from the offensive noise by pulling a pillow over his head. Then he lifted the pillow to shout, Can you keep it down out there? I’m trying to sleep here!

A pain shot through his abdomen and he held himself. Wanting to fold into a ball, he slid his feet to a floor littered with clothing, empty beer cans and food crumbs. Darkness concealed most of the mess, but he knew it was there. Felt it under his feet and the light from the hall illuminated enough to remind him where he was.

When the trailer was brand new, the thin carpet had been red. A crimson that brightened even the darker days. Now it paled under a thin film of gray and brown dust. Not a speck of color shone through.

Outside he heard Linda whispering. Couldn’t hear what she said, only that she spoke in that annoying whine. Why the hell couldn’t they move away from the window? She knew he was sick and trying to sleep.

He moved across the room, opened the folding panel door when another pain gripped him. Gritting his teeth against it, he held his breath and forced himself to move into the bathroom. Having prided himself on an iron stomach, now he reluctantly admitted bad habits had finally caught up. The stuff he consumed made him ill regularly. Mostly the chicken on a stick. He made a mental note never to touch the stuff again, though most likely, he knew he would. He had earned that.

Having purged the previous day's junk, he moved through the narrow hall, past the kitchen and into the small living area and sank into the couch. He snatched the television remote from the end table beside him, pointed and clicked. The blue light brightened the room slightly and he hit the button to refresh stations. Channels began changing, adjusting to the area. News, cartoons, soaps.

He glanced at the refrigerator a few feet away, sighed and clumsily lifted himself. He made it across the short space, pulled it open and saw the last can of Budweiser on the top shelf. A flicker of guilt rose up, but he pushed it away. Screw it, he said, snatching it from its place and popping it open.

Smiling, he moved back to his spot on the couch. A cold beer, a soft spot to sit in, CNN on the tube and a tomorrow that beckoned freedom. If he could get rid of the kid, his life would be perfect.

He was looking forward to the new gig. Gavin, the carnival director, had promised this would be better than most. Lots of families in this area. Lots of little kiddies. Teens with pockets full of cash trying to impress friends; single-parent fathers attempting to assuage guilt by treating over-indulged children to over-priced rides and bacteria-laden fried food.

Though still dark outside, he heard the day beginning for some. Metal clanging and the crunch of tires pulling rides across the gravel. Barely having rubbed sleep from their eyes, they were already hard at work.

Another pain gripped him and he groaned, moved from his spot on the couch, ready to visit the bathroom again.

Thursday Evening

The carousel spun faster with each cycle as Adam Wilkerson waited impatiently for the green light to tell him the mixture was ready. Removing a small packet of aspirin from his lab jacket pocket, he tore it open and popped the pills into his mouth, swallowing them dry. Tossing the empty packet into the waste bin next to the metal table, he rubbed the back of his head, hoping for relief. Headaches had been more severe lately.

He glanced across the room at the shelving unit housing the rats. Though he had only eight to choose from, they were the best. The unit behind him beeped and he turned to see the light flashing orange as the carousel ended its cycle. When it stopped completely, he pressed the plastic latch, releasing the lid and lifted the tube from its tray, then walked across the room to the large metal island. Pulling a syringe from one of the drawers, he turned his back to the animals as he filled it with the contents of the vial, re-capped it and placed it in his pocket.

Poking his nose from the enclosure, Prometheus unintentionally made Wilkerson’s decision on which rat to use. It may not be equal to bringing fire to man, but virology was one of the fastest growing areas of biotechnology—an area of science that would ultimately lead to new vaccines.

Working on virus combinations for the better part of a decade at Central Research, Wilkerson had finally hit upon a combination worthy of exploration. Central Laboratories had contracts with the Defense Department and one of the big guys liked the idea.

Stepping over to the enclosures, Wilkerson pulled the pin from the latch, reached in and let the rat move on to his hand. Despite years working with the animals, he had never gotten accustomed to the feel of this. The touch of small rodent feet on his skin caused him to grimace. Hurriedly, he pulled his hand out and moved back to the metal counter.

Like other rats in this lab, Prometheus was special. In research facilities like this one, it meant he had special training. B-Level rats were average lab rats used for all forms of testing, but Prometheus and his kin were A-Level. Some were trained to respond to key words and could reason complex problems. They could unlock doors, navigate a complex system of pipes and tunnels, and understand the connection between one thing and another. Prometheus understood that if he moved a switch, a light could be turned on or off. He knew the switch controlled the light. With enhanced immune systems and superior powers of reasoning for the rat kingdom, these rats were the top of the heap.

Stay, he said, setting the animal on to the chrome counter. He moved the small harness arm above the rat and Prometheus looked upward at the contraption, shuffled his feet and twitched his tail, but remained in place.

Okay little guy, I’m going to hook you up. He placed the harness around the rat and pulled the Velcro tight so Prometheus would not squirm free. He locked the arm in place, twisting the wing nut as tight as possible, then reached down under the counter bringing the gloves and syringe up to the counter top.

Prometheus squirmed upon viewing the syringe. His nose twitched and his nails scraped the counter top. Wilkerson winced at the sound and cranked the contraption to elevate the rat slightly above the counter.

Testing B-level rats had proven the virus combination would speed up the life cycle of the illness, thus terminating the host quickly and reducing the risk of exposure to other animals. But the new virus also gave indicators of infection. The addition of an adenovirus, caused the symptoms of the pink eye virus.

In the first stage of testing, B-level rats became infected and showed increased levels of aggression compared to the virus without the C-A2 combination. Some attempted to break from cages in an effort to get at the researchers and other animals. They all perished within seventy-two hours, instead of the usual six weeks.

Using the A-level animals was just another step up the process. Rate of infection was a hundred percent. Despite some subjects inoculated with the rabies vaccine, they would still become infected.

Marta, Adam's ex-wife and Doctor Lodhi Zaman, a colleague at Central Laboratories, had been against the use of the higher functioning animals. These animals have complex problem-solving skills, wrote Lodhi in a report to the director. If exposed to the R1-C2 virus combination, the aggression produced in the animals will cause them to put those skills to use against the environment they have learned to work in… The report went on to indicate that if one of the A-Level rats were used, they had to anticipate an increased risk of infection to the staff and community.

Despite his colleague’s warnings and protestations, Adam got the go-ahead. He could use five of the animals at different phases of testing.

The whoosh of the lab door caused him to glance up as Marta stepped inside, brown eyes wide. Adam, what are you doing in here? The door clicked behind her.

Don’t start Marta. I’m not in the mood, he said sharply.

She moved across the room and stood across the counter from him. I’m not used to seeing you in here. We usually have assistants doing this. Why are you here?

He watched Prometheus clawing the air and grabbed the syringe. I want to make sure this is done correctly. I—we can’t afford any screw ups.

You should use a different containment unit. Something more secure. Moving around the counter past him, she pat him on the back, I wish you had told me you were coming in here tonight.

Ignoring the comment, he held the syringe up, depressed the plunger slightly and watched as a small bead dripped from the end, I’m going to make the injection now.

She glanced back at him and held up a hand. One second please.

He waited as she disappeared behind one of the shelving units, made a great deal of noise opening and closing doors and re-emerged a few moments later holding one of the new plexiglass cases. Setting it in front of him, This is more secure. We won’t have to worry about the animal escaping.

The same size as other units, the enclosure was completely sealed, but for the tiny air holes along the diameter at the top and bottom. Prometheus, even at his brightest would not be able to unlatch the container.

She reached to the front of the container, pulled a clear pin from its place in the latch and allowed the door to swing open. Okay Doc, do the dirty deed. Tilting her head sideways, smiling, she showed a set of brilliant white teeth.

Adam chuckled, and returned his attention to Prometheus. The rat had tired and grown still, but when he saw the doctor take a renewed interest in him, he began clawing the air again.

Here we go, he said, placing the needle into the thigh and pressing the plunger.

Prometheus squealed in pain, It’s okay, Buddy. Be over in a minute. God I hate doing this. He said the last under his breath, but Marta heard and nodded.

Freeing Prometheus from the straps securing him, she placed him inside the plexiglass container, shut and latched the door. An orange sticker marked, ‘Testing: Do Not Open’ was placed neatly over the latch.

Adam watched as she filled the water bottle, placed it on the cage and secured it with wire. Always so careful, Marta. That’s why I loved you so much.

A line formed on her brow, but she attempted to dismiss the remark, almost jokingly. Adam, you’ve never loved anyone but yourself. She placed the cage into the shelving unit as she spoke. But I think that’s okay sometimes. That ego may be what it takes to be a great scientist. She shrugged and turned to look at him, having completed her task.

Though he had married her, he had not understood her very well. The marriage had only lasted six months, though they had prolonged the agony by performing the happily-married-couple dance for two years. They were good in the lab together. Had learned to work around each other. But outside the lab they clashed on nearly everything.

I better go. Richard and I are having dinner at Maestro’s, if you’d like to join us. He knew she said it as a courtesy. Not as if she really wanted his company.

He shook his gray head and glanced around the lab. Thanks, but not tonight. I have to get some sleep and there’s paperwork to finish. He felt exhausted. Knew it was a touch of depression he had been warding off.

Marta hit the green button on the wall, causing the whoosh to sound again, Goodnight, Adam. I’ll see you tomorrow then.

He held up his hand and turned his back to her, glancing up at the rat in the plexiglass cage. The click of the door told him she had left.

~ ~

The town

Unless you grew up near Gilbert, Indiana, you would not know of it. A nondescript little city with no distinguishable events in the history books, it existed only as an annexation along I-65 of nearby Gary. No one was so bold as to call it a suburb, simply because it was its own small city, with all of the right elements in all the right places to distinguish it as a city.

Like many small American cities or large towns, Gilbert was host to fledgling entrepreneurs in communications technology with cell phone and internet service providers, dish network and cable companies sprouting up on every other block. The historic district of downtown Gilbert was first paved in cobblestone in 1915, but with downtown renovations and public funds of the twenty-first century, it became lined with nineteenth century buildings housing a florist, a U.S. post office annex, the historic museum, a bookshop and café, a children’s clothing shop, the First Federal Savings and Loan and the Sunset Theater at the center of Gilbert Square.

City blight had been wiped clean during the late 1990s when the city council, the mayor, other officials and prominent citizens of Gilbert deemed the homeless population an eyesore. The crime rate had soared over the past decade—enough that the good citizens of the city were afraid to walk the streets alone—even during daylight hours.

Urban renewal cleansed the city of its problems until Mayor Avis Engle was caught by a spying photographer from the Gilbert Gazette with his pants down, literally, bending a seventeen year-old boy over a urinal in the Alhambra Park bathroom. Another cleansing was in order, this time in the political and moral sense.

By 2005 the U.S. census information said the town had grown into a city with almost fifty-thousand residents. In 2008, Gladys Dent, an ancient community do-gooder, collector of antique dolls and avid gardener ran for the city mayor position and won. She had organizing experience through her work with the humane society and that was good enough for the residents of Gilbert. They knew she would not be bending young men over the urinals in Alhambra Park.

Chapter 2

Green eyes narrowed toward the setting sun, Gavin kept his gaze on his surroundings rather than on the man standing in front of him. Mark, we've been doing this for more than twenty years and we do what works. What's the problem?

Leasing