jimdattilo
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ZE Outbreak Novel, Chapter 3
🕑 Added 2025-05-29 17:00:11 +0000 UTCMonday, May 7, 2012
Monday morning. I turned on the TV before my eyes were fully open, already dreading what I'd hear. It was some morning show, and I searched around for news but couldn’t find any about the virus. Was that it? A few days of worrying me, and now the virus was already gone?
In the kitchen, I cracked two eggs into the pan, watching them scramble. Dad's voice echoed in my head: "Monday is always eggs, kiddo. Start the week right." Some habits stick with you, even when everything else feels uncertain.
While I finished cooking, I emailed my direct supervisor at work and called out sick. The thought of sitting in meetings felt absurd. Even if the virus was over, I couldn’t shake all those things Dr. Cohen told me.
I finally found some coverage of the virus, but the news was having an identity crisis. One channel claimed government conspiracy, while the next called it mass hysteria. Watching them flip between extremes was like tracking a ping-pong match where both sides were losing. Dr. Cohen's warnings kept surfacing in my mind, making it painful to watch these people spread such a different view.
Hours slipped by as I fell into an internet rabbit hole, cross-referencing reports, trying to separate fact from fiction. The TV droned on in the background. By five, my eyes were burning and my head was swimming with data points that refused to connect.
I needed air. I needed to see something real, something normal. Gino's Deli seemed like as good a place as any. It was a classic Philly joint where the hoagies were always perfect and Tony behind the counter still called everyone “bro” or "hon," virus or no virus.
The street felt different. Rush hour in Philly always had its own pulse, but this was something else. The city felt different to me and likely to everyone else. People were rushing everywhere but kept glancing over their shoulders, as if expecting something to materialize behind them.
The old stone church on Locust was drawing people like a magnet. "Special Prayer Service for Peace and Safety," the banner proclaimed, as if words could ward off what was coming. I was not religious at all but understood what it brought to some people. Families huddled together on the steps, and kids clung to their parents too tightly. The first notes of organ music drifted out, and I kept walking.
When I turned the corner, the street was flooded with protesters. One group demanded truth about Zeta, their signs wobbling above the crowd like waves. Behind them, the counter-wave was screaming: "HOAX!"
I made my way through the crowd and noticed the strange mix of people. A businessman in an expensive suit joined the truth-seekers. A teenager with dyed blue hair stood among the deniers. A mother pulled her children closer as the two groups clashed verbally near the crosswalk.
They were all right, in a way. The truth was being hidden. And yes, panic wouldn’t help. But while they screamed at each other, the real enemy slipped past unnoticed. It wasn’t each other. It wasn’t the virus. It was our refusal to face reality without picking sides.
As I made my way along the sidewalk toward Gino's, a scene drew my attention. A middle-aged man had collapsed, his body sprawled on the concrete. He was large, over 6’4” maybe, with a slightly flabby middle, his body shaped like a football. His arms were up by his sides and folded with his hands against his body, like the shape of chicken wings. His legs were slightly bent under him. People maneuvered around his body, seemingly oblivious. Some even stepped over him with hardly a glance. It made me angrier than anything people were protesting.
"Get out of the way!" I yelled, shouldering people out of my way. Muscle memory kicked in from my combat medic training. When I got to him, I thought it was probably heat exhaustion. It must have been over 90° on the sidewalk.
"Hey, can you hear me?" I gave his shoulder a firm shake and glanced around to find an area of shade.
He groaned, and his eyes were unfocused. "Yeah."
"I'm going to help you." Getting behind him, I locked my arms under his. The dead weight surprised me. It was like trying to lift a waterlogged mattress. His flesh gave way under my grip as I heaved, and he found just enough strength to help scoot himself toward shade. The crowd barely parted, and so I had to drag him around them.
Once in the shade, I helped him unbutton his shirt. "Sit down here and take it easy." I positioned him against the wall, already reaching for my water bottle. "Drink this, slowly." While he sipped, I poured some water over his neck and scalp and watched his responses.
His eyes cleared, and his breathing steadied. These were good signs, but not enough. I pulled out my phone to call 911. I heard one ring, then a busy signal. I dialed again, but the continuous beep felt like a warning klaxon. "I can't believe this. How the hell is 911—"
"Thanks, I'm good now." He smirked and started standing, transforming from near-unconscious to mobile in seconds.
"Wait, you need to rest. An ambulance—"
"I'm fine. Got to get back. Thanks, buddy."
I watched him stumble away, disappearing into the crowd like nothing had happened. The whole scene felt wrong: the collapsed man, the indifferent crowd, the dead 911 line. Something fundamental was shifting in Philadelphia. The city I knew wouldn't step over unconscious people. The emergency services I trusted wouldn't be unreachable.
I turned toward Gino's, but the bitter taste in my mouth had nothing to do with hunger. I couldn't have walked past him. But watching everyone else do exactly that made me wonder what else was breaking down around us.
# #
I walked back to my apartment with an Italian hoagie and Snapple, barely registering why I'd even bought them. My appetite had vanished somewhere between the warring protesters and the collapsed man. I needed to see the city for myself, but now I wished I hadn't. The reality was worse than any news report.
Back in my apartment, I noticed a missed text from Gabriel blinking on my phone: "Are you seeing this crazy shit on the news? What's going on in the city??"
I called him immediately, and he picked up on the first ring.
"Sam, did you see the news yet today? It's sooooo crazy."
Through the phone, I caught the unmistakable sounds of outdoor noise. "Wait, where are you right now?"
"Just got home. Was out jogging."
"Jogging? What the hell? Didn't I tell you to stay home? This isn't the time to be out and about. Have you started packing like I told you?" I could hear my voice rising. I didn’t want to sound frustrated, but I didn’t know how to control myself right now.
"I didn't think you were serious," he said, his voice going quieter.
"Serious? This virus is going to spread. You need to be ready. Look, I need you to get packed. I don't know when...maybe tomorrow or the day after. I'm coming to get you, and we’re leaving the city."
"Stop, you're freaking out now." His voice wavered.
"Good, you should be freaked out. People aren't taking this seriously enough."
"I am taking it seriously, but Mom and Dad said..."
"They're not your mom and dad!" The words exploded out of me.
“Don’t yell at me!” His voice cracked, raw and thin, then broke apart into shallow, uneven breaths.
There was a clatter, and the sound of his phone hitting the floor. I heard running footsteps, then Zoe's voice: "Gabriel! Oh, Jesus."
More footsteps came, followed by crying and muffled voices. Someone picked up the phone. "What, who is this?"
"It's Sam, Gabriel's brother. What's going on? Is he okay?"
"Connor's helping her. He's having a panic attack," Zoe said, then hung up.
I stared at my phone. God dammit. Gabriel wasn't fragile by any means, but I'd never spoken to him like that before. All my fears about what could happen in the future made me act like an idiot today. I couldn’t yell at him and expect any better results. If I didn’t learn how to keep my cool—
The phone rang again. "Hello? Gabriel?"
"What the hell is wrong with you, Sam? Why would you yell at Gabriel like that?"
It was Connor, and his voice was like razor blades cutting through my skin.
"I...I'm sorry, I overreacted. Can I speak to Gabriel, please? I need to make it right."
"No, you're not talking to Gabriel. He's lying in his bedroom now. We had to give him a Xanax to calm him down."
"I need to talk to him when he's better. But it has to be today."
I heard Connor moving, and a door slammed. "Sam, you're not allowed to talk to Gabriel anymore, at least not until I feel he can handle it."
"Listen to me. The virus is going to make its way to the U.S. I want to make sure Gabriel is safe. If you just—"
"It's my responsibility to keep my son safe. And right now, you're not helping. You gave him a fucking panic attack. He almost hit his head on the floor." Connor’s voice rose to a shout. I'd never heard him like this before.
He paused and then continued in a more even tone, "I know you love your brother, but you need to think about his mental health."
“I care about him more than anything. His well-being is all I think about."
"Good, then act like you care. You're not allowed to call Gabriel until I say it's okay," Connor said. "And I don't want to have to do anything legal to keep you away from him. I will if I have to."
His words hit me like a punch to the face. He really thought he could stand between me and Gabriel? He had no idea who he was dealing with.
"Look, I—"
The line went dead. I stood in my kitchen, the untouched hoagie and Snapple still on the counter, wondering how I'd managed to make everything so much worse.
# #
Restless, I hit the gym downstairs. It was my default move when everything upstairs got too loud. Inside, the hum of the AC and the sharp clinking of iron filled the air. I settled into the weight machine, muscle memory taking over as I adjusted the settings. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t block what happened.
I should have just gone to Gabriel's house, taken him, and gotten out of the city.
It all seemed crystal clear now. If I believed the Zeta virus was a real threat, why was I sitting around waiting? Instead, I'd managed to put Connor on high alert.
I added more weight, pushing harder. Connor. There was the real sore spot. He'd stepped up when I couldn't, given Gabriel everything I'd failed to provide anything for him. I couldn’t give him stability. He called Connor Dad without hesitation and seemed to love him. And I'd let my pride poison that. And I had struggled to understand all Connor had done for my brother. My stupid ego made me resent the man who'd actually been there for Gabriel.
Moving to the free weights, I grabbed the heaviest dumbbells I could manage. Each rep burned, but it wasn't enough to drown out the voice in my head.
You’re nothing but a failure.
I should have been there in person, not shouting over the phone. Gabriel was just a kid trying to make sense of everything, and I'd dumped my own fears and frustrations on him.
The gym door swung open. I paused mid-rep as a young woman, maybe around twenty, sauntered in like she owned the place. Her gear looked fresh off a boutique rack, but it was the face that stopped me. She had on full makeup, hair styled to perfection, not a strand out of place. She looked ready for a photoshoot, not a workout. Absurd, maybe. But who was I to judge?
She dropped her gym bag and unpacked equipment like she was building a film set: tripod, lights, and camera. She positioned it all near the mirrors, disturbingly close to my bench. I slowed my reps, eyes drawn to her as she began her routine, eyes on the camera.
As she lifted weights, she spoke in a clear and exaggerated way, like she was selling a used car. "Hey, loves! It's so important in these tough times to stand together and show compassion for those affected by this virus. We're all in this together, and it's our unity that will help us overcome these challenges. Let's spread love and support, not fear."
She spoke like she was reading off a Teleprompter. To me, the whole thing read fake. It wasn’t a bad message, it was strange that she was saying it all while working out, badly I might add. Most of her motions were halfhearted, and she was barely breaking a sweat.
“There are people in China and Japan and places like that who are dealing with the virus. We need to help these people and make them comfortable while they are trying to get better. How would you like it if you were sick and people were saying the flu was a hoax?”
I couldn't help it. I laughed. The whole thing was absurd. She was talking about the virus while barely working out and sounding like she had never read a news article in her life.
She shot me a glare, her eyes making that V pattern my mother used to wear when I really screwed up. She shut off the camera and strode toward me, chin lifted slightly, a faint smile curving one corner of her mouth. "Could you please not make any noises while I'm filming?”
I rolled my eyes but held myself back from making any smart remarks. "Sorry. I’ll try not to make a sound."
She gave me a fake smile, turned to her setup, and hit the remote on her camera to start filming again. "There's talk of a cure coming out of Asia. Or maybe India. But either way, it should get to us really fast. So, everyone can be happy and healthy again!"
What had she just said? A cure? Already? Where had she been getting that information from? Was she seriously implying that people could recover from the infection and that a cure might already be in the works?
I shook my head and turned back to my workout, trying to tune her out. This had nothing to do with me. If she wanted to play pretend on YouTube or whatever, let her. It had nothing to do with me.
"Hey, everyone! It's Kayla here, bringing you another life-changing wellness update! I've found something absolutely amazing that I just had to share with you all!” She held up an elongated bottle with a dark green liquid, showcasing it to the camera. “Introducing VitaCure Essence! Guys, this is not just any supplement. It's a revolution in natural health! I've been using it for a few weeks now, and I feel incredible!"
She paused, eyebrows knitting slightly, her mouth tightening at the corners. "With everything going on in the world right now, especially with the Zeta virus, we all need a little extra protection, right? Well, guess what? VitaCure Essence is here to save the day! Made with a unique blend of all-natural ingredients, VitaCure Essence is designed to boost your immune system like never before! It's not just for the Zeta virus; this baby is a powerhouse against so many ailments!”
She leaned closer to the camera, as if sharing a secret. “Now, I know what you're thinking. 'Is this too good to be true?' Guys, I was skeptical at first, too. But after trying it, I can't even begin to explain the difference it's made. I have way more energy, sleep better, and I just feel soooooooo much healthier! And the best part? It's 100% natural! No chemicals, no side effects, just pure, wholesome goodness. I mean, who doesn't want that?"
She held up the bottle higher and turned her body with her hip out. "I believe in sharing only the best with my fam, and VitaCure Essence is it! Check it out for yourself, and let's stay healthy together! Swipe up for the link and don't forget to use my code 'Kayla10' for a special 10% discount! Stay fabulous and virus-free, loves!”
I couldn't believe this shit. My stomach twisted with every word she spoke. I'd heard enough. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I headed for the exit just as Kayla started another take. I didn’t realize my mistake until I stepped into her shot.
Kayla stopped recording instantly. “You just ruined my video!” she shouted through the gym. “Seriously? Rude.”
I looked back at her for a moment and stared into the face of a dragon queen: face red, nostrils flared, and lips curling. I guess it was my fault, and I didn’t want to get into it with her.
"I'm sorry for interrupting," I said.
She scoffed, ran to the camera, and pressed one of the buttons on top of it. "Now I have to refilm a perfect take because some people can't mind their own business," she said, her voice dripping with passive aggression.
I stopped, turned to her, and said, "At least I'm not a phony."
It was a stupid thing to say. For someone who didn’t want to get into it with her, I was doing a terrible job.
Her eyes widened in shock. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It's terrible, selling a fake cure for something as serious as the Zeta virus. You should be ashamed of yourself."
Like I said, stupid. But how on earth could she sell this crap? Deep down, she had to know she was bullshitting her audience. Maybe she didn’t care, or maybe she was really that stupid, but either way, this Kayla person sickened me.
Kayla’s mouth dropped open slightly, eyebrows raised as if I'd slapped her. I turned to leave, but she followed me into the lobby, calling out, "Fuck you, asshole!"
I kept walking, not caring about anything she said. A few people in the lobby stopped and looked over at Kayla who kept shouting at me. As I approached the door to the stairwell, one of the elevator doors swung open, and a muscular man stepped into the lobby. Kayla's face lit up as she called to him, "Brad!"
This is why I didn’t want to get into things with her. Everything had turned from bad to worse. Brad looked every bit the bodybuilder, and I definitely didn’t want to get into it with him. Kayla ran up to him. "Brad, that guy just attacked me!"
Attacked her? I never touched her. But if she’s a lot about the virus and her stupid green drink, I’m sure she could manipulate her boyfriend.
He turned and spotted me on my way to the stairwell door. “Hey!”
I thought about running into the stairwell, but the look on his face and the intensity of that single word from his mouth told me he would chase me to the roof of the building if it came to that.
"Whoa, I didn't attack her. We had a disagreement, that's all," I said, raising my hands to appear nonthreatening.
But Brad wasn't listening. He swung at me, his fist cutting through the air. I sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the blow.
“Dude, what the hell?” I said, backing away. Was this guy for real?
The two desk clerks at the gym's entrance were now on their feet. "Hey, stop fighting! I'm calling the police!" one of them yelled out.
I faced Brad, trying to keep calm. "Back off, man."
“I’m gonna kill you,” he said through gritted teeth.
He lunged at me again. This time, instincts kicked in. I didn’t think, but kicked at his leg, striking the shin and throwing him off balance. He stumbled and fell flat on his chest.
“Oh my God, Brad, get up,” Kayla shouted and moved to help him.
“This is unreal,” I said. “I didn’t attack you. All I said was—”
Brad shot to his feet and rushed at me. We collided, his momentum sending us both crashing to the ground. I was surprised, and my back slammed hard to the floor. Air rushed out of my lungs, and pain shot up my shoulder blades. In a flash, an image of my brother filled my vision. A trip to the hospital would derail all my plans. Brad landed on top of me and used one hand to pin my shoulder down. As he drew back to punch me, I drove my left shin into his midsection. It was a maneuver I had practiced many times in jiu-jitsu, or I should say failed to perform right when practicing with a black belt. Brad was strong but off balance, and my shin shoved him back slightly. He fought to drive my leg down. Pushing off the ground with my right leg, I drove out with my left shin, lifting and tilting Brad. At this point, Tiago would swivel his hips out from me and drop into side mount, making me feel like a novice. I was half surprised this was working on Brad. Gripping his gym shirt, I guided his body until it flipped over. Rolling through the motion, I mounted him, pinning him down.
"Stop fighting!" I shouted, holding him in place. I gripped his wrists and used my weight to pin them to the floor.
One of the desk clerks was on the phone, probably calling the police. Spectators had gathered, their murmurs filling the lobby. Phones were out, filming the fight. No one stepped in to help.
Suddenly, Kayla was there, her hands clawing at my hair, yanking back hard. Fingernails scraped against my cheek, and her screams pounded my eardrums.
“Get the fuck off him!”
The sudden pain caught me off guard. I batted away her hands, but didn’t notice the fist coming at me from below. Brad’s hard knuckles landed on my chin. My eyes rolled back, and a flash of darkness filled my vision. I tumbled off him, Kayla's grip slipping as I fell.
Something in my head told me to get up. I got to my feet, stumbling, just as Brad surged up, teeth bared, his fists tight at his sides. He came at me again, but this time I was ready. I swung, my fist connecting with his cheek. I heard him grunt, and blood dribbled from his mouth. I followed with a high kick to the side of his head, another move I had practiced in the gym. His eyes fluttered, and his face went blank. The impact sent him sprawling, unconscious, to the floor.
Breathing heavily, I stood over him, my heart pounding. The lobby was silent, all eyes on us. I knew this had gone too far, but in the heat of the moment, my only thought was to defend myself.
He deserved this. Something swelled inside me, and for a moment felt like killing Daniel Thorne. Glancing over his body, I wanted to finish the job. How easily would it be to break his neck? Or choke him into his windpipe snapped? I couldn’t do this in front of others. There were too many witnesses.
Another part of me knew this was nothing like Daniel. Brad thought he was defending his girlfriend. He didn’t deserved to die. Maybe Kayla did. But I wasn’t going to kill her for being a bitch.
As Brad lay motionless on the floor, Kayla, tears in from her eyes, rushed to his side. She knelt down, gently cradling his head in her lap. The lobby was silent except for the low murmur of the onlookers.
I stood there for a moment, my chest heaving from the exertion and adrenaline. The realization of what just happened hit me like a ton of bricks. I had defended myself, sure, but at what cost? I couldn't afford to get tangled up with the police, not now. My thoughts raced to Gabriel, to the virus, to everything that was at stake.
Without another word, I turned and bolted for the stairwell. I took the steps two at a time, my mind racing faster than my feet. My footsteps echoed in the stairwell. Too many mistakes. Why had I said a word to Kayla? Who cares if she was trying to sell bullshit to her audience? In a few days, it wouldn’t matter.
Reaching my apartment, I fumbled for the keys, my hands shaking slightly. The door swung open, and I stepped inside, quickly locking it behind me.
I grabbed my to-go bag and the duffel bag I had prepared for bugging out. The TV was already on from earlier; the news anchor's voice filled the room with urgent updates. But I barely listened as I moved around the apartment, gathering my belongings.
How could I be so stupid? Getting into a fight now, of all times. If the police get involved, if Brad presses charges... Gabriel, I can't help him if I'm arrested.
Too many thoughts tumbled through my head. I laughed as I thought about calling up Connor to give me one of my brother’s Xanax.
“...protests have turned violent in London, Berlin, and Paris as panic spreads. Authorities in Japan and China have enforced complete lockdowns, with reports of military personnel stationed on every corner. Meanwhile, multiple U.S. states have mobilized the National Guard in anticipation of similar unrest here at home. Officials are urging calm, but fears continue to escalate amid this unprecedented global crisis.”
The world was unraveling at the seams, and here I was, worried about a fight in a gym.
Hours seemed to pass as I sat on my couch. I couldn’t take my eyes off the news, and maybe it distracted me from worrying about the police knocking on my door. The light outside dimmed as evening approached, but the glow of the TV kept the room illuminated.
Somewhere after 3 PM, it dawned on me that the police hadn't shown up. They weren't coming. They had bigger problems to deal with.
I flipped to the local news and immediately wished I hadn't. Riots had engulfed the city: storefronts shattered, cars engulfed in flames, and people sprinting wildly, clutching whatever they’d managed to grab. The police struggled hopelessly against a tide of chaos spreading like wildfire.
My hand slackened around the remote. The world outside was unraveling, and suddenly my own problems felt painfully small.
Gabriel was out there somewhere, and every second I sat still put him in greater danger. Time was up. The city wasn't waiting, and neither could I.
Comments
Robert Scott VanHoose
Loved it and always look forward to future installments.
