FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 20TH
ATLANTA, GA—CENTER FOR DISEASE CONTROL
“It’s time,” the voice said. “Remember what we told you.”
CDC employee Anwar Goff wanted to rip the small piece from his ear and stomp it into oblivion. But his tormentors had been very clear about what would happen if he did so. “If at any time we can’t hear you, they will die. Ask for help, they will die. Write a message, they will die. Use your phone, they will die. Am I clear?” So Anwar left the earpiece alone and slipped from the bathroom. His footsteps echoed on the tile flooring as he walked down the empty hall.
CDC Building 18 had shut down about an hour ago. Anwar moved with slow, hesitant strides that all too quickly ate up the distance between the bathroom and the Biosafety Level 4 lab. Sweat threatened to drip into his eyes and he drew his left arm across his forehead.
With shaking fingers, he swiped the key card, and the first set of doors opened, then closed behind him. For a moment, he just stood there, trembling. “God, help me,” he whispered, then moved once again.
“God can’t help you. Only I can,” the voice whispered, then gave a small laugh. Evil clung to the words and Anwar clamped his lips shut.
Once inside the changing area, he set his briefcase on the bench next to the lockers and drew in a deep breath. He couldn’t help the stifled sob that slipped from him as he opened the third locker from the left.
Don’t think, just do it. Within seconds he was in protective clothing, complete with mask, gloves, and gown.
Next, he rolled the combination on the briefcase to unlock it. With short, sluggish steps, Anwar left the changing room and approached the next set of doors. He swiped his card again. The doors opened with a soft whoosh and he stepped into the BSL-4 lab.
His target lay in the locked freezer just ahead. Muttering another prayer, he crossed the room, opened the freezer door, and found what he’d come for. He paused and swallowed hard as he simply stared, feeling paralyzed. Helpless. For the past seven years, he’d worked his way up the ranks of the CDC, gaining the confidence of his superiors. And now all of his hard work had brought him to this.
“We’re waiting. Your family is waiting.”
He thought of his wife and two teenage children. With another deep breath, he reached into the freezer. Carefully, he transferred the tray that held the one-inch-long plastic vials topped with the plastic screw caps. The vials sat in seven little white cardboard boxes. One by one, he removed the boxes and placed them in the black case. There they would be kept frozen by the dry ice during transport.
Anwar snapped the briefcase closed and rolled the combination to lock it.
He’d done it. He’d really done it. Tremors raced through him as he glanced at the clock on the wall. He had very few minutes to spare, but he wasn’t quite sure his legs would be able to carry him back through the two sets of doors. He didn’t move. Couldn’t. He simply couldn’t do this. “I can’t do this,” he whispered.
“But you will.”
Yes. He would.
So this is how he would go down, how he would be remembered. Don’t do it! But the faces of his children, his wife, rose up before him. He squared his shoulders and tightened his grip on the bag.
He left the lab, not looking back, not thinking about all of the people who would soon die. He was only thinking of the three people he was trying to save. With hurried, erratic movements, he entered the lobby and waved to the security guard who barely looked up from the computer.
“Night, Anwar. See you next week.”
Anwar didn’t answer, just strode through the glass doors and out into the night. He shivered as the wind cut through his heavy coat. Even Atlanta had its fair share of cold weather.
For a moment Anwar hesitated. If he went left—
“Why aren’t you moving, Mr. Goff?”
Anwar jerked. They were watching him. He moved to his car and climbed in. He placed the briefcase on the seat beside him. Just earlier that day, his wife had sat in that spot and they’d talked about their plans for Thanksgiving. His parents were coming, but hers couldn’t make it. With a tight throat and tears in his eyes, he cranked the car and pulled from the curb.