• Published 31st Dec 2016
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Pandemic - ASGeek2012



The small Colorado town of Lazy Pines soldiers on through a bad outbreak of influenza in an otherwise typical flu season ... until the OTHER symptoms manifest.

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Chapter 23 - Pandemonium

Bob realized that it was likely another few days before he would start to show symptoms himself, yet he looked himself over in the mirror carefully anyway after taking his shower that Sunday morning. As far as he could tell, he was still thoroughly normal.

"Hey, you almost done in there?" came Jenny's voice through the door.

Bob retreated from the mirror and checked that his bathrobe was closed. "Yeah, I'm done." He opened the door and hesitated as he stared at Jenny's face.

"Yeah, I know already," said Jenny. "Purple eyes. I had it before going to bed last night."

"I thought you were hoping for that color," Bob said in a neutral voice.

"Sure, right," Jenny murmured.

"Sorry."

Jenny shook her head, wavy pink hair flying. She brushed a few strands out of her eyes. "Have you heard from Tina?"

"She's doing okay. She sprained her ankle, but it's minor. They said she should heal in a week."

Jenny nodded. "At least you can talk to her."

"Well, sure," Bob said in an uncertain voice. "Can't you ... oh, you mean you still can't talk to James?"

"No, and thanks to all this shit with this stupid emergency, Mom's not letting any of us out of her sight, so I can't even meet up with him."

Bob didn't give voice to his initial response, as it would have likely sounded too harsh. It took him a moment to realize Jenny had described her grievance in plain language and not fantasy-speak.

Something of Bob's mixed emotions must have shown on his face, as Jenny countered with, "Yeah, I know, I get it. I'm just a self-centered brat."

"I didn't say that," said Bob.

"But Tina did."

"When did ...?" Bob began, but he remembered it himself a moment later.

"On Thursday when you and Tina were posting pics of Laura's tail," said Jenny. "She thought I hadn't heard her."

"Yeah, she did say that, but ... well, she tends to be kind of forthright like that."

"I didn't hear you disagree with her," Jenny said.

"Jenny, I'm not sure what you want from me," said Bob in a slightly terse voice. "I really don't want to go into this now."

Jenny opened her mouth, her face suggesting she was about to issue a sharp retort, but she closed it and remained silent for a few moments. "Fine. Anyway, you said you were done in there, right?"

Bob nodded and stepped out of the bathroom. Jenny barreled past him and slammed the door in her wake.

He returned to his bedroom and started to get dressed. His computer chimed, and he turned his head to see an incoming call on Skype. He hastened to finish dressing before closing the door of his room and dropping into his seat before his computer.

"Heya, Bobby," came his mother's voice, the video struggling to start over Eileen's lower bandwidth connection. It finally flickered to life as she said, "Sorry, I mean Bob."

"Hi, Mom," Bob said. "Are you feeling better?"

Eileen was dressed in corduroy slacks and a thick sweater. "Eh, mostly. Fever's down enough so I don't have to completely bundle up."

"It's just that you look like you're going out somewhere."

Eileen chuckled. "Can't get anything past you. Yeah, I am, which is why I'm calling. I'm coming to get you out of there."

Bob gave her a nonplussed look. "I'm sorry?"

"I don't want you catching whatever is going around that town."

"Mom, I don't think you should try this."

"Why not? You told me yourself you wanted to come back home."

Bob had not said that. He had only just barely implied that he might consider it, and things had radically changed since then.

"But I'm going to need your help," said Eileen.

"Huh?" said Bob. "My help? For what?"

"Sarah is not going to let me set foot in that house despite my legal rights, and I don't have the time or money to get a lawyer or the patience to wait for the damn state bureaucracy. You need to find some excuse to be outside so I don't have to worry about that."

Bob bit back his initial response, that he was revolted by the idea that she would think he would violate Sarah and Harold's trust. "You won't be able to get me out of here. There's been a public health emergency declared."

"Yeah, I know about that, it's all over the news," said Eileen.

"Maybe you don't know this part: we've been told to remain in town. A reverse-911 call came in this morning. We're in isolation and quarantine."

"The hell?" Eileen said. "You're not even sick!"

"That's the quarantine part," said Bob with forced patience. "I've been exposed, so they need to see if I develop symptoms."

"I don't want them using my son as a lab rat!" Eileen declared.

"You're not going to have any choice. I doubt they'll even let you into town. They've probably set up roadblocks." Bob actually had no idea if that were true. A public health emergency did not automatically lead to authorization to suspend the freedom of movement provision of the Constitution.

"Then we'll try the back roads or the mountain trails. I'm not leaving you there. It's not safe." Eileen smiled faintly and ran a hand through her hair. "I also have a little backup plan that I'm sure will convince them to let me in. Besides, don't you want to be back with your mother?"

Bob had desperately hoped that question would not arise. Lying to spare someone's feelings was tolerable to him, but he wondered if that would make things worse. It would just string his mother along with false hope that they would be the ideal mother and son family that she still wanted.

His silence was taken as an answer, but not the correct one. "Bob, I understand, you like having the cushy life with Sarah and Harold. I know you'll have to give up a lot, and we'll be living day-to-day, but all that matters to me is that you're safe."

Bob swallowed hard. "Please don't do this, Mom. You'll only get hurt."

Eileen smirked. "Don't underestimate your mother. I'm not so old I can't take a few knocks."

"That's not what I mean," Bob said in a helpless voice.

Eileen glanced to the side as her doorbell chimed in the background. "That's my ride. I gotta go. I'll call you later when I'm closer to town."

Bob's eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of his mother's "backup plan": a streak of crudely dyed purple down the back of her head. "Mom, wait--!"

"I love you," said Eileen before she hung up.

Bob covered his eyes with his hand. Now what?


Laura found herself asking the same question: now what?

She was still in her bedroom, wearing an old nightgown Jenny had outgrown the year before. She had been up for nearly an hour, remaining as quiet as she could so the rest of the family would think she was still sleeping.

She willed herself to stand, but her body only partially complied. She could not stand perfectly straight no matter how hard she strained. It was if her body were simply no longer capable of moving to an erect state, let alone hold her there.

Her tail flicked itself out of the way as Laura sat down and pulled up her nightgown. Feet were still feet, but starting above the ankle, her calves were covered in short, soft yellow fur. She drew the gown further up, to where the fur ended a few inches short of her knees. The bare skin just beyond faintly itched. She was almost sure it had advanced another quarter inch since she had awoken.

She let the nightgown fall and wrapped her arms around herself. How was she supposed to care for fur? Shampoo it like hair? She already used three times as much as she once did just to deal with her thick hair and tail. What if she ran out? What if the town ran out? She almost laughed. These inquiries were stupid. Practical, perhaps, but stupid compared to the idea that she was turning into a pony.

Laura finally shuddered, like she thought she should have when she first woke up with fur. Instead, she had almost greeted the new development with equanimity. Not quite, but close enough to worry her. It had first prompted the original question: now what?

She dreaded revealing this to her family. What could they do? Tell her to go to the doctor? Wait for one to come to her? She had not heard the reverse-911 call, but she had seen a news report on her phone. She could guess Mom would want them to stay put, so there went her chance to be with Tina.

Laura had no idea how she had managed this state of uneasy calm. Was it hanging by so thin a thread that her parents' upset would shatter it? Dad wasn't so bad, but Mom could freak out sometimes, at least in her view. She didn't need that kind of atmosphere right now.

What was the responsible thing to do?

Laura bit her lip. That was what counted, wasn't it? When Sarah had heard what happened the day before, she had expressed nothing but concern for Laura's well-being. Laura wondered what else her mother had been thinking.

Laura picked up her phone and called her friend Tina.

"Hey, Laura," said Tina in a groggy voice.

"Um, hi," said Laura. "You sure you're awake?"

"As awake as I can be. Pain meds sorta knocked me out last night."

Laura wrapped her free arm around herself. "Sorry you're in so much pain."

"Eh, I'm just a complainer, it's not that bad," said Tina. "Just need to keep icing it a few times a day."

"I'm really sorry for this."

"Yeah, I knew that was coming. It's not your fault. I told you that yesterday."

"But wasn't it, well, irresponsible of me to--"

"You had no idea what was going to happen. Even when that blow-hard preacher is in town, he doesn't rile up people that much. I could've been more forceful about turning you away from it. It doesn't have to be on you all the time."

Laura thought back to how at least when she had screwed up with Jenny, no one had gotten hurt. She shook her head as if to dislodge that thought. "I really wish we could meet up today," Laura said in a hushed voice.

"Only if you can come over here," said Tina. "I'm not going anywhere for a few days at least." She paused. "Um, so ... did anything else ...?"

"Fur," Laura said in a flat voice. "On my legs."

"Crap, I'm sorry," said Tina.

"It's ... it's fine. I ..." Laura was about to convey everything she had just spent the last hour thinking about, but decided that might disrupt her precarious calm. "I'm coping, let's just leave it at that."

"You still sound like you need someone to talk to."

"Yes, I do, but I doubt Mom is going to let any of us out of the house after yesterday."

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere, and my phone has a full charge."

Laura smiled faintly. "Thanks. I'll call you back. I haven't really gotten up yet."

Laura hung up, letting the hand holding the phone fall to her thigh. She finally stood and forced herself to greet the day.


The glass tubes that extended down from domes upon the roof of the compound already glowed bright with morning sunlight by the time Fred Turner opened his eyes. Fitting, perhaps, as he felt as if he had emerged from a long, dark tunnel. Thoughts swirled in his head in a maelstrom, yet they had gained a clarity he had not felt in a very long time. He lifted his head, looking about his room as if it were a stranger's home rather than where he had spent the better part of the last ten years.

Fred turned over and stumbled out of bed, landing hard on the floor. He righted himself quickly, standing on four hooves as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He knew just how unnatural it should be, but he could not convince his body. As if to further make the point, his legs moved in perfect concert when he willed himself forward, the clopping noise threatening to shatter his new, tenuous hold on sanity.

Fred paused at the door. That thought presupposed he had been insane before this.

He headed into the bathroom and reared back on his hind legs, throwing his fore-legs over the front of the sink and drawing himself up where he could look at himself. A mouth at the end of a short muzzle dropped open, and his already large amber eyes widened further. His peach mane was wild and tangled, and his rust-red fur in disarray. He stared down at his fore-hooves, trying to will himself to imagine the hands that had been there before and failing. He was naked, having given up the day before trying to doctor his clothing to fit his rapidly distorting form, yet this state also seemed natural.

His surprise was not for his alien appearance, but for how normal it seemed. That was not the reason for his clarity of mind; something else had happened.

His ears swiveled towards a distant "pop" sound. Fred dropped his fore-hooves to the floor. He rushed out into the living space and came to a stumbling halt.

"Hello, Fred," said the little girl.

She was as he remembered from their last meeting only the day before, the same as she always was. She still wore the clothing the refugee camp had given her. She was still ... eight? Ten? She had never told him her age. Or her name, for that matter.

His eyes flicked down to the ragged satchel she held in her hands. "Why ... why are you carrying that? How did you get it out of--"

"I've come to warn you," said the girl in a solemn voice.

Fred gave her a confused look. "Warn me?"

"They're coming for you."

Fred's pupils shrank slightly, and his ears drew back. "Who??"

"The state. The government. The ones who have been out to get you all along."

Fred backed up a step, standing with one fore-hoof lifted off the floor. Her words had urged him to retreat into his fortifications, an instinct rather than a premeditated thought. He frowned and set his hoof down. "Something's happened to me."

The girl stepped forward and smiled. "I said you would be all right in the end."

"That's not what I mean!" Fred thundered. "And how can you call this being all right? I don't even know what I am! Why doesn't it feel strange to me?!"

"Why should it feel strange? It's what you needed to be."

"You're not making any damn sense," Fred growled. "And when I meant something happened, I didn't mean just waking up like this. I also mean up here." He jabbed a fore-hoof towards his head. "Something's different. It's like I don't even know who I was for the past twenty years." He glanced around. "Or why I did what I did."

"I suppose this was inevitable," said the girl. "Though I had not expected it to happen so quickly. Your mind is clearing now that your body can handle the magic."

"The what??"

"The magic that got caught inside you when we first met, when I cast those first spells on you. I hadn't meant to affect you like that, but ... it served a purpose."

Fred stomped a fore-hoof on the floor, which shook from the impact. "Make sense, dammit!"

The girl glanced down. "Look what you just did."

"What are you ..." Fred began, but trailed off when he lifted a fore-hoof. His eyes widened at the crack on the concrete.

"You're strong, Fred," said the girl. "Stronger than you ever were. Stronger than you could ever be in your original form."

Fred's mind felt like an old piece of silver where years of tarnish were being slowly stripped away. "Did you do this to me? Change me into this?" His teeth clenched. "Did you make me insane?!"

The girl's eyes shimmered. "That's why I need to apologize."

Fred just stared.

"I'm so sorry it had to be this way, but I needed information. I needed time. And when I was ready--" She lifted the satchel briefly. "--I needed someplace safe for this."

Fred's eyes focused on the satchel. "You're taking it back?"

"Yes. It's served its purpose, and this place is no longer safe for it."

"You said it would give me the answer. I felt so close, only now ... now ..." Fred again glanced about him like he had just wandered into a strange place. "This was all a lie."

"Not really," said the girl. "It did provide an answer. You're who and what you need to be. You'll have your mental faculties fully restored soon, and you have a body that will serve you well."

"I want to believe you," Fred said through clenched teeth. "I want to think you're real, but what if you're just a leftover figment of my madness? What if--"

He was startled by a loud thumping on his front door and the attention buzz of his intercom. He crossed the room and hit the button with his fore-hoof. A voice crackled over the speaker, "Mr. Turner, this is the police! You are to open this door and come out at once!"

Instinct rose in Fred to assert his rights, but his throat was too tight to speak.

"Mr. Turner, we are under the authority of a court order to carry out a directive to take you into medical isolation as warranted by the Colorado Department of Health. You are not under arrest. Repeat: you are not under arrest. This is for your safety and the safety of the public."

Fred swallowed hard, and he turned his head towards the girl.

"I didn't lie," she said. "I said they were coming to get you, and they are."

"Mr. Turner, please do not make this difficult," the officer said in as much a plea as a command. "We are more than willing to hand this over to the National Guard if we are unable to extract you."

Fred spun around and faced the girl. "You did this to me. You put me in this position."

"And again, I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you."

"But what am I supposed to do?!"

"I will leave that up to you," said the girl. "There's little that can be done now to stop what's been set in motion."

"But what--"

"I need to go," said the girl. "Goodbye, Fred. I wish you well."

Before Fred could say another word, there was a bright flash of light and a pop of imploding air. The little girl and her satchel were gone.


Police Chief John Barrows sighed and pulled off his hat with one hand and scratched his head with the other. "Shit, I do not want to have to break into this place."

Several officers stood alongside him. He and the others were wearing breath masks, which muffled their voices slightly. One of the officers turned to him. "If he wouldn't open up even for his own daughter, Chief, I doubt he will for us," said Rick.

"How long do you think we should give him?"

"If he doesn't respond in ten minutes, I say we'll have to go in."

Behind them, Kevin stood alongside several physicians who had arrived the night before, sent to supervise taking Turner into custody. "I really hope it doesn't come to that," said Kevin as he glanced at the men in fatigues behind him. "Not with your proposed 'backup.'"

John's radio squawked. "Chief, this is Jeb at the perimeter. You got him out of there yet?"

John lifted the radio. "Negative. What's up?"

"We got reporters here, and they're getting antsy."

"Shit," John muttered. "Keep them the hell out. Let them record you guys all they damn well please, but keep them back. How the fuck did they learn about this?"

"I don't think they quite know exactly what's going on, just that something's up. Might be a fishing expedition."

"Make sure they don't get a bite." John lowered his radio. "We gotta get 'im outta there pronto." He looked past the physicians towards the soldiers from the National Guard. "You boys think you can smoke him out of there without hurting him?"

"We're not sure, Chief," said the sergeant in the lead. "We looked over the blueprints for this place. Any sort of action in there is going to be close-quarters."

"I'd rather there not be 'action' of any sort," said Kevin.

"I know how you feel about the man, Doc," said John.

"It's also a practical consideration," said one of the other physicians. "I hate to sound so cold about this, but we need him alive and intact if we're to get to the bottom of this disease."

Kevin stepped over to John and said in a low voice, "Did you really need to bring the National Guard along? You do realize Mr. Turner can see all this on his monitors."

"I got no choice, Doc," John said in irritation. "And you better get used to seein' them because I'm short too many men right now. I got two officers who called in sick this morning."

Kevin's eyebrows rose, as did his voice. "With what?"

"The damned flu, of all things!"

One of the other physicians stepped forward. "Did you say the flu? There's a new case?"

"What does it matter?" asked another physician. "I thought we ruled out a direct link."

"But the flu had already run its course through this town. Why is there a new case now?"

Kevin turned back to John. "Chief, did these men have any contact at all with someone from outside of town?"

John tipped back his hat. "Well, I dunno. They weren't really in a state to answer a lot of questions. Is that important?"

"It could very well be. I'll want to talk to these men and--"

"Hey, wait a minute," said Rick. He glanced around. A few others did the same. "Did you feel that?"

"Huh," said John. "The weird tingly sensation is gone."

"Yeah, just like that!" said Rick. "Like a light switch flipped off."

"What the hell does it mean?" John asked.

A sudden metallic clank sounded from the door. A few seconds later, a low rumbling rose as the door parted from the right frame and retracted into the left.

"Sonuvabitch," John murmured. "He had a freaking solid metal sliding door. We never woulda gotten through that easily." He turned to his men. "All right, all of you, form up with me. Doc, you and the other physicians get back. Sarge, I need you and your men in case we hafta go in."

As they rearranged the order of battle, John nudged Rick. Rick nodded and called out, "Mr. Turner! Please walk slowly to the door with your hands where we can see them. Please acknowledge if you hear me and understand."

"I hear you," Fred growled. "I'm coming out."

"Chief, he may need assistance," said Kevin. "While he seemed balanced on his hooves, he was also severely hunched over. If that's gotten worse--"

He cut himself off when he heard the sound of not one pair of hoofsteps approach the door but two. Seconds later, a little rust-red and peach pony with amber eyes stepped into the light.

John stared and muttered, "What the everliving fuck?"

Rick's eyes widened. "This ... this can't be Turner ..."

The little pony spoke. "That's Mister Turner to you. Try giving me a little more respect for once."

One of the guardsmen leaned over to his sergeant. "Uh, Sarge? Is this some kinda joke?"

"I sure as hell hope it is," the sergeant muttered.


Sarah had not realized how rusty she was at using the sewing machine until she broke the needle on her first attempt, only then remembering she had to use a different needle when working with denim. At least Harold's persistent restlessness and relentless need to tinker since he was out of work meant her sewing machine had been lubricated on a regular basis and was in perfect working order; it was only her skill that was lacking.

She finally gave up working with denim at all, leaving her own jeans as her first and only attempt. She squirmed in her seat slightly. She had made the slot too narrow, and it already pinched the base of her now full-length tail, red and salmon pink hair spilling over the side of the chair and almost to the floor.

Sarah leaned back as she finally finished a similar adjustment to a set of sweatpants for Laura. She stood and was about to call her daughter when she winced and rubbed her forehead. She headed into the downstairs bathroom to see if another dose of ibuprofen would finally knock out the headache she had upon awakening.

Harold met her as she emerged from the bathroom. "I finally heard back from some of my father's neighbors. They're strapped for workers as well because of the flu."

"Well, you did your best," said Sarah.

Harold frowned. "I don't get it. Why the hell is there so much flu going around out there?"

"You saw the news this morning. It's a big outbreak."

"But concentrated in one area like that?" Harold said.

"They might've caught it from your sister."

"Then how did she get it?"

"What difference does it make?" Sarah said in a testy voice. "We can only worry about so many things at once. Now, if you really want to help, you'll fetch me a pair of your sweatpants."

"Uh, why?"

Sarah gave him a level look, her tail swishing once. "What do you think?"

Harold rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm handling the tail."

"You won't be able to for long," said Sarah.

"Why are you even doing this?"

"Same reason you tried to call your father's neighbors," Sarah said in a softer voice. "So I feel like I'm doing something. I can't do anything else for this family, especially Laura. She barely wants to talk to me."

"Maybe we should be talking to Jenny instead," said Harold. "I'm worried now that she's completely suppressed the memory of that storm."

Sarah sighed. "I'm not sure I can take more of hearing her fantasize this crisis."

"Except she isn't," said Harold. "I didn't get a chance to tell you yesterday because you were so concerned about Laura, but James called me aside and said he was concerned that Jenny had stopped coming up with new stuff for her story."

"Well, maybe that means she's finally taking this seriously," said Sarah.

"It's just so unusual for her."

Sarah smiled faintly. "Admit it. You like hearing it more than I do."

Harold shrugged. "Yeah, maybe."

"If you want to talk to Jenny, feel free," said Sarah. "I doubt she wants anything to do with the 'evil sorceress.' And yes, even though I can find it annoying, I do listen to her fantasizing, even when she doesn't think I am."

Harold was about to reply when the doorbell rang. He raised an eyebrow and headed to the front door.

"Harry, if that's anyone else other than the police or a doctor, I don't really want to--"

Harold looked out the peephole. "No, it's okay, honey," Harold said before opening the door.

A slightly hunched-over Sadie Sommers stood on the front porch, smiling. "Good morning, Mr. Tanner. I hope I'm not interrupting?"

"No, not really," Harold said as Sarah came to the door. "And call me Harry, please. This is my wife Sarah. Sarah, this is the woman I told you about. Sadie, was it?"

"Sadie Sommers," said Sadie. "But everyone calls me Sunny."

Sarah smiled. "Sunny, thank you being there to help Laura."

"She's the reason for my visit," said Sadie. "I wanted to know if she was okay. She seemed to be brooding a lot over what happened when I last saw her yesterday."

"That's nice of you to check on her," said Harold.

"I was wondering if I could see her." Sadie pointed to her ears. "We, ah, sort of have something in common."

Sarah exchanged a look with Harold. "Well, I don't know, she's been holed up in her room since--"

"Sunny??" came Laura's voice from behind them. Harold and Sarah turned. Laura stood halfway down the stairs, her ears swiveling. "I, um, heard her voice. Can she come in?"

"I don't see why not," said Harold.

Sarah nodded and stepped aside. Sadie's tail idly flicked a few times as she entered the house. Laura traversed the remainder of the stairs, her smile widening. "It's nice to see you again. Um ... did you wake up with--?"

"A little furry problem?" Sadie tugged up one leg of her slacks, revealing pale yellow fur. "Not to mention looking like I'm trying for the lead role in the Hunchback of Notre Dame."

Laura giggled faintly.

"I have to admit, I'm surprised anyone wants to be about," said Sarah.

Sadie shrugged. "National Guard's been arriving since early this morning. People don't want to make trouble when there's guys in fatigues holding guns walking about. Anyway, that reverse-911 call was kinda short on info. I mean, come on, 'await further instructions'? You'd think someone would have their act together by now."

"That's what I thought," said Sarah. "As much as I don't like the idea of soldiers about, at least it means maybe someone's about to do something for us."

"But if things are calming down in town," said Harold. "Maybe we can let the kids out."

"I still want the family to be close, Harry, and you wanted to talk to Jenny."

"Even if you do let me go see Tina," said Laura. "I still want to talk to Sunny for a bit, if that's okay."

Harold briefly squeezed Sarah's shoulders. "I'll go talk to Jenny if you'll stay with our guest."

Sarah nodded before Harold headed away. "Sunny, do you want anything?"

"Just some water, if you didn't mind," said Sadie.

Sarah smiled and headed to the kitchen.

Laura stepped closer to Sadie. "I didn't expect you to drop by, Sunny, but I'm glad you did. I guess all I really needed was to know someone else was like this, too."

"I would've stopped by sooner, but I had to tell an old friend goodbye," said Sadie.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Just one of those things. We had to go our separate ways. But, hey, I may have lost a friend, but I gained some new ones. I'd say that was an overall win."

Laura smiled. "I think I know why you go by the name 'Sunny.' It matches your disposition."

Sadie chuckled. "You could very well be right about that, Laura."


Kevin retreated to a physicians' lounge when his cell phone vibrated. As he took it out, he glanced over his shoulder at his looming, armed shadow. "Must you follow me everywhere?"

"Those are my orders, sir," said the National Guardsman as he followed Kevin inside. "This is for your own protection."

Kevin thought other factors were in play as well. Fred Turner had been taken into the Lazy Pines hospital through a back entrance, and security was tight. National Guard soldiers were stationed everywhere, and the wing Fred was in was being cleared of all other patients who were able to be moved safely.

He glanced at the caller ID and answered. "What is it, Heather?"

"First off, how did it go?" Heather asked.

Kevin glanced at the guardsman, who looked stoically on. "It went. The details don't matter. Suffice it to say that Mr. Turner is safely in the hospital."

Heather let out a sigh of relief. "What's his condition?"

"Worse," said Kevin. "Far worse. He--"

"Is he in there?" came a familiar female voice from the other side of the door. "Let me in right now."

Kevin turned as he saw a guardsman open the door. In strode a middle-aged woman with long, straight blond hair and wearing a lab coat. A breath mask covered her mouth and nose like everyone else in this wing of the hospital. "Whoever you're talking to right now, please stop."

Kevin frowned. "Hang on a minute, Heather." He muted the call. "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm only going to say this once," the woman said. "No word of Mr. Turner's condition is to reach the public."

"Now hold on--"

"I know I don't have the legal weight behind that, but I'm strongly urging you not to spread word of this."

Kevin hesitated, then cracked a small smile as he finally recognized the voice. "Doctor Marlowe, I presume."

Sandra Marlowe extended her hand. "Yes, and I'm sorry for being so blunt."

Kevin accepted her hand. "Not at all. I'm speaking with my assistant. Everything I say about Turner is as his physician, and she knows it needs to remain confidential."

"May I ask that you refrain from that for now? At least until we have a chance to talk."

Kevin nodded and unmuted the call. "Sorry, Heather, I'll have to give you the details later. Doctor Marlowe just walked in."

"All right, I understand," said Heather. "I won't keep you, but I have to tell you this. I decided to head over to the hotel to comfort Janet while we waited to hear what happened with her father. She's sick. She has the flu."

Kevin's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

"She has all the symptoms. I used a rapid test kit on her and it came back positive. I already have a respiratory sample in to the lab to determine which strain."

Kevin ran a hand over his head. "All right, keep me updated. I'll contact you soon." He hung up. "Another new flu case."

"We'll get back to that in a minute," said Sandra. "I wanted to tell you what we know so far."

"Other than a human being has done the impossible and transformed into an animal?"

"It's no animal we've ever seen on this planet," said Sandra. "He certainly appears to be an equinoid, though of no know variety, and he seems fully sapient despite the reduced cranial volume. The only other thing we know about him is that he's tremendously strong. Because we initially thought his mental state was impaired, we tried to restrain him. He literally bucked his rear hooves and broke apart a wheelchair like it was made of balsa. An orderly accidentally got clipped in the side by a hoof. He has a fractured rib."

"Good Lord," Kevin murmured.

"Turner apologized profusely for the injury, which was when we realized he was more lucid than we thought. He agreed to cooperate so long as we didn't restrain him."

Kevin paused to take it all in. "All right, so what's being done now?"

"Test, tests, and more tests," said Sandra. "Blood, urine, feces, hair, fur, hoof scrapings, the works. We're also starting a full DNA sequencing."

"Any imaging?"

"Only X-rays so far," said Sandra. "Bones and organs look in proper proportion for a creature of his body shape, other than his forelegs are far more flexible than any equinoid we've ever seen. If it wasn't for lack of fingers, he could practically use his fore-hooves like hands. Genitalia suggests he's still biologically male. We have no clue what's fueling his strength. Yes, his muscles are well-developed, but given his size, the impact of his strike was way out of proportion to what he should be capable of. Even the horse breeding expert we consulted was flummoxed."

Kevin looked thoughtful for a long moment. "Has he said anything about a little girl?"

"I'm sorry?"

"He's referred several times to what we thought was an imaginary companion," said Kevin. "He claimed she was a little girl from Afghanistan."

"While he's been cooperative, he hasn't volunteered information, and he clams up completely in the presence of the psychologist," said Sandra. "All we've noted is a seeming lack of concern for his nudity and some oddities in his diction. He's using pronouns like 'anypony' instead of 'anyone,' for instance. What about this companion?"

"I had postulated that she might be real, and he only thought she was a little girl. She might have fueled his paranoia."

"Did you share this with the police?"

"Yes, I did," said Kevin. "Chief Barrows said his men searched the compound from top to bottom and found no one and nothing unusual."

"Perhaps this is proof she was never real," said Sandra. "If something did make him become more lucid, that could've caused him to abandon that fantasy."

Kevin frowned. "Humor me, please, Doctor Marlowe--"

"Sandra. If we're going to be working together, we might as well drop some formalities."

"And please call me Kevin. As I was saying, I would like to speak with Turner myself."

Sandra tapped a finger against an arm. "Let me see what I can arrange. Access to him is very tightly restricted. I'll try to make the case that you're his physician."

"Thank you," said Kevin. "Speaking of restrictions, when are we going to release anything? If the timing of Mr. Turner's symptoms are representative, then we could potentially have half the town in his state by the end of this week."

"I know," said Sandra in a low voice. "I'm going to level with you, this is far worse than we thought. Waves are already rippling up to the federal level."

"I'm more concerned with how people will care for themselves," said Kevin. "Not having hands anymore is a huge disability."

"We're arranging for shelters where people can go if they feel they can't care for themselves or their families," said Sandra. "We're scrambling a bit, Kevin."

Kevin nodded. "All right, I think I understand the situation. I want to help."

"Yes, and one way you can do that is by becoming a patient."

"I expected as much. My apparent immunity to this. Do whatever testing you need."

Sandra smiled faintly. "We already have the mountain of consent forms ready for you to sign."

Kevin rolled his eyes. "I suppose I'll sympathize more with the paperwork my patients have to do. So then, back to the subject no one wants to think about: influenza."

"We've already contacted the police officers who have it and they agreed to be tested," said Sandra. "But if it comes up plain vanilla H1N1, I'm not sure what else we can do. We're relying on the CDC to slow the influenza spread."

"But I'm very concerned about the infection vector," said Kevin. "How did these people become sick?"

"You're still pushing the influenza link?"

If it had been asked in anything but a strictly professional tone, Kevin would have felt defensive. Instead, he took it to be simply a means to clarify his intent. "Yes, until the very moment that someone isolates the exact cause of this condition. I'll gladly look like a fool in the end if I'm wrong."

Sandra nodded. "Good. I was hoping you'd stick to your guns."

Kevin tilted his head. "You did?"

Sandra took a step closer to Kevin and lowered her voice. "The earlier reported number of flu cases may be a bit short of the mark. It may be as high as two hundred and fifty thousand."

Kevin's eyes widened. "That's a rather alarming discrepancy!"

"We'll do all we can to continue exploring the flu link, but we need to get a handle on what this condition is. I really need your focus there, Kevin."

Kevin nodded. "I'll do my best."

"I have to get back to work," said Sandra. "Anything else you wanted to ask me?"

"Do we have a name for this condition yet?"

"That's for the CDC to decide," said Sandra. "But we've unofficially named it ETS: Equine Transformation Syndrome."

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