"God damn it, Hardner! This is a pandemic! This is no time to play by the rules!" Stryker's voice blasted from the sat-phone, blowing Michael's hair back. I wonder who pissed in his cornflakes, Michael thought to himself.
I took a sip of my coffee, idly wondering if there was a way to work Agile Office Environment into COVID-Force.
Chapter 19.As Sharon slow-rolled the SUV past the playground, Jake kept his eyes peeled for social distancing violations.
The sight of the kids, laughing and playing, carefree in the face of the pandemic, should have warmed his heart. But it didn't. He'd been like them once. And then the world came crashing down on him.
“Mikey's COVID!”
“I'm not COVID! You're COVID!”
“Mikey's COVID! Mikey's COVID!”
“I'm not COVID! MOM!”
The sing-song taunts and laughter pushed Jake over the edge. “Stop,” he told Sharon. Sharon stopped the patrol SUV and whooped the siren once. Jake burst out of the door and stormed into the playground.
“ALRIGHT!” Jake shouted. “This COVID-farm is CLOSED!” Startled children scurried around and surprised parents looked at him in disbelief.
“YOU! Get away from that slide, punk!” Jake ordered a toddler, who immediately started bawling.
“Christ, Jake,” Sharon told him. “They're little kids.”
“The Covid don't care if you're four or 94,” Jake snarled. “HEY! Jackass! Get away from that swing! It's not sanitized!”
“I want my mommy,” the kid sobbed, running away.
“Your mommy can't save you from the Covid, kid.” Jake knew that better than anyone.
With the kids dispersed, Jake began putting up the yellow tape, marking the playground off limits.
“Jake, I think you came on a little strong back there,” Sharon told him. “Is there something you want to talk about?”
“They just won't listen,” Jake said, securing the tape. “They just won't listen.”
They walked back to the SUV, and Jake took the keys. As he started the engine, Sharon pulled up the latest updates.
“Possible social distancing violation in progress at the post office, and a restaurant allegedly over capacity. It's a Mexican restaurant... you ready for lunch? We could order some take out, pick it up while we're busting them...”
“Make sure we get the food before we shut them down, or they might spit in it.”
“Good point,” Sharon replied. Suddenly their radio crackled to life.
“Atlas! Athena! This is Oracle! What is your status?”
“God damn it, Natalie, we're not doing code names,” Sharon snarled.
“Guys! We talked about this! Call me Oracle!” Natalie pleaded.
“Jesus, Natalie,” Jake said, rolling his eyes. “You sit in front of a computer and eat Doritos all day. You don't get a code name.”
“Guys! Come on! Please?”
“What do you want, Natalie?” Sharon demanded.
“Okay, SHARON. Breaking story on Fox News: a shipment of vaccine is leaving the factory. We need to make sure it arrives safe.”
“Alright,” Jake replied. “What are we on the lookout for?”
“The French. Canadians. French Canadians. Anti-vaxxers. And bandits looking to sell vaccines on the black market.”
“Okay. Where?”
“I can't give you that information on an unsecured channel.”
“GOD DAMN IT, NATALIE!”
“Alright! Alright! The convoy is heading west on Bloomfield Expressway.”
“Roger. We're on route.”
“Don't call me Roger. I'm Oracle!” Natalie snickered.
“GOD DAMNIT!” Sharon disconnected the call, then punched some keys on the comm unit. “Sat-Map, this is Snooze-Bar. Do you copy?”
“We've got you, Snooze-Bar,” came a gruff voice in reply.
“There's a shipment of vaccine that needs some babysitters. Bloomfield westbound. Can you assist?”
“Roger that, Snooze-Bar. I'll call in BarcaLounger, we'll make it a convoy.”
“See you soon, Sat-Map,” Sharon said as she ended the call.
“Plotting a course on the GPS. ETA is 17 minutes,” Jake told her.
“That's too long,” Sharon replied. “I know a shortcut through SARS-Town.” The word put a chill down Jake's spine. But he could hold it together long enough to get to the rendezvous point. He had to.
“Left here, then left again right after that,” Sharon instructed. “That'll put us on Lewis. Straight shot to the Bloomfield on-ramp from there.”
Lewis Street... pretty much Main Street, SARS-Town USA. Once the center of a lively urban community. Now a wasteland of boarded up shops and closed restaurants and theaters that would never roll another film. Pretty much a ghost town. A ghost town with real ghosts. The street was half deserted, and the few faces still there looked drained, lifeless. Faces that still showed the exhaustion from all the coughing and wheezing. Eyes still hollow and haunted by the things they had seen. So long ago, but still just yesterday.
“Jake... what's wrong? Jake, why are you stopping?!” Sharon grabbed his shoulder. “Jake? Jake?!” In reply he just slumped forward and rested his head on the steering wheel.
“Jake, I need you to stay with me. Jake, COVID-Force needs you.”
“You weren't there,” Jake wheezed in reply. “You weren't there when it all went down.”
“When what went down? I'm right here. I'm always here for you, Jake.”
“SARS. Toronto. 2003. You don't know what it was like. You can't imagine what it was like.”
“Jake, you're-- ,” Sharon cut herself off. He's so young, she reminded herself. He must have been just a kid when SARS hit. She had been a whole decade older, starting college on the other side of the continent. “You're right, Jake, I don't know what it was like. But this is now, Jake. We have to be here for now, okay? We have to make sure that 2003 doesn't happen again, alright? Can you help me do that?”
After a short silence he pulled his head off the steering wheel and nodded. “Alright,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even. “Alright. I can do this.”
“Maybe I better drive, Jake,” Sharon suggested. He nodded and got out of the SUV. She did the same and they switched seats. She buckled herself in and moved the shifter to Drive. “After we're done, Jake, I think you need to talk to somebody. Okay?”
He didn't want to. If he asked for help, he could end up on stress leave. Or discharged altogether. And then what would he do?
“Jake? I don't want to push this, Jake, but you need to have your head straight out here. If your head isn't straight, you might get us both killed.”
“Okay. Okay,” he grudgingly agreed. If he got hurt, it didn't matter. But if he got Sharon hurt... the thought of her kids losing their mother hit him too close to home. He couldn't let that happen. As Sharon turned the car onto the Bloomfield on-ramp Jake thought of his own mother, how she had looked eighteen years ago, the last time he saw her.
As they picked up speed and merged onto the expressway, Jake was jolted out of his thoughts. “That's them!” Sharon shouted, pointing at another SUV. “That's BarcaLounger!” She punched the press-to-talk on the radio. “BarcaLounger, this is Snooze-Bar on your six!”
“We see you, Snooze-Bar,” came the reply. “We are closing in on Sat-Map and the package, ETA 45 seconds.” She accelerated to keep pace with the other vehicle and deactivated the radio. “Just in time, Jake.”
“Alright,” he told her. “I'm ready.” I can hold it together a little longer, he told himself. Just a little longer.
-k
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