Green Fields (Book 2): Outbreak by Adrienne Lecter Page A

more nonplussed than anything.
    “Virus hit us hard. You’re the scientist. You likely know more about that than any of us do.”
    “Why exactly do people keep telling me that? I’m the last person to have heard of this, and I still don’t really know any facts at all,” I protested.
    I got a noncommittal grunt in return. “Not sure there are that many facts out there. Last thing I heard it’s spreading like wildfire around the globe. Most of the larger cities shut down yesterday or even Thursday, and accidents and looting probably killed as many as the virus itself.”
    “But what is it? How did to start? Where was patient zero?” Two of those questions I likely could answer, but getting confirmation sounded like a good idea.
    “No patient zero,” he replied, skipping seamlessly over the first two questions.
    “That’s impossible,” I objected feebly, all too conscious of my own suspicions about the tainted food. “There is always a patient zero, even if they misdiagnose everything. Epidemics don’t just start all over at the same time.” Pandemics, I likely should have said, but the very idea of that was too much for me to focus on right now.
    “Look, here’s what I know,” Martinez offered. “On Monday, there were a few weird posts online about people suddenly losing it on the streets. Like in line at the fast food joint, running a red light at the intersection, while picking up their kids from school. No one heard about it because besides a few conspiracy nuts, it was just not important for anyone. Tuesday, half the country called in sick and the CDC is posting the first flu epidemic bulletins. There are a lot more cases of people randomly going insane, but with the media gobbling up the Influenza story, no one gives a shit. Wednesday, FEMA and the national guard are on high alert and try to establish crisis centers in the big population centers, but by then everyone and their dog is home sick, and even if they tried to launch anything, they’re massively understaffed. That’s the day when all the news stations in the country get a script delivered by the nice guys with your friendly neighborhood M16 at the ready, and everyone in politics or who knows someone who knows someone is suddenly taking a vacation with friends or family. That’s also the day when I get the call that I should report to base like yesterday, only that we’re about a week late in mobilizing everyone. The internet implodes because unlike mainstream media, it’s impossible to shut down all the blogs and forums, but they try. So unless your neighbor already tried to go for your jugular, you go through Thursday as if it’s a snow day in late May and everything will be better because the weekend’s just round the corner. And Friday, well—“
    “That’s when the shit hit the fan,” Burns said, joining our conversation. He eyed me critically for a moment, but if the fact that I was huffing and puffing alongside them annoyed him, he didn’t show it. “Lexington was pretty quiet. I was in D.C. until Thursday evening, and, ma’am, believe me when I tell you that you should be glad you weren’t.”
    The idea alone that I had been completely oblivious to all of this going on was almost as bad as the fact that it was happening. Sure, I didn’t really keep up with the news, but even yesterday afternoon all the news channels had been running were low-level flu scare bulletins. That anyone had been able to suppress this level of news—and that they would—made me even more uneasy.
    “So whatever this is that has been ravaging the country for five days now, you’re saying that the government has been suppressing the news since the very beginning?”
    Burns shrugged while Martinez looked away, intently studying some underbrush we passed. “Your words, not mine,” he replied, pretty much confirming my guess.
    “This is so much bullshit,” I muttered. No one felt the need to contradict me.
    Even though the circumstances