The first mutation came from the election night viewing party at the Navy Mess.
The secretary of housing and urban development put out a press release that he was fine after being the 3rd person from the party to test positive. He was exhibiting no worrying symptoms that made it necessary for hospital confinement. He was isolating at home and his wife, results still pending, was doing the same in their other home in Long Island. At a press conference, a reporter mentioned that generally, the second week may bring more troubling symptoms but the spokesperson, a tall blonde in a tight cream pant-suit with a slight midwestern twang ignored the comment and even rolled her eyes. She wasn’t being paid enough for this bullshit. She had looked forward to this- your time to shine, her mother always told her- but she was only fronting the press because the one with a higher rank than her was unavailable, and so was the person higher than that person and going all the way up tp Miss K The Mighty One.
Miss K was safely ensconced in her 6 mil modern Tudor manse in Spring Valley. Probably touching up her hair (and face) with an army of hairdressers and stylists who were only recently asked to wear masks. She hadn't been seen in the premises the day after the election when everyone woke up to find that the other guy had clawed himself out of oblivion and was now president-elect. Nobody really believed the boss’s ranting about fraud, cheating and dead people voting. They all knew. She did too. it was all everyone could talk about weeks before the election, even if you had to be very careful about who you discussed it with. She was honestly surprised that the public didn’t even pick up on it the moment the boss started building the narrative of illegal ballots. It was all planned because they knew it was going to be close, and it was. At the end of the day, they couldn’t close the gap and all hell broke loose.
When she got the memo telling her that she might front the press because so and so was away somewhere, she initially felt euphoric and then later, deflated. There was no opportunity in this at all- just 15 minutes and mainly covering health updates regarding the election night party where three attendees including the sec of housing had tested positive. She squirmed at the thought- she almost went to the viewing party when Ms-Higher-Up-Than-Her rang & asking her to come over to discuss something. All the main players were there including the boss’s campaign manager. This was her chance to show them that there was more to her than just being a former Ms Kansas USA title-holder.
But she didn’t even get inside. Ms-Higher-Up-Than-Her was outside the closed door on her phone and when she saw her approach, held out a finger for her to stop. She babbled on for about 10 minutes. Someone inside yelled Ohio. When she was done, she motioned for her to come closer and she was instructed about what was possibly going to happen in the next 48 hours. She crinkled her nose ever so slightly- Ms-Higher-Up-Than-Her’s breath smelled of cigarettes, wine (rose??) mixed with Chanel.
‘You’ll get a memo of course, in case you forget’ Ms-Higher-Up-Than-Her said, dismissing her with a wave before taking out her phone to make a call.
When she did get a memo three days and three positive cases later, she also got a confidential email from Ms-Higher-Up-Than-Her telling her that she WASN’T (this was typed all-caps) really at the party. That she never went inside. That she waited outside the door talking to someone on the phone until she had arrived, had their discussion, made another phone-call and left for the night. Uh-okay, she thought. Whatever. She was honestly over this whole virus thing. Mexico, she thought. Somewhere really warm. Is there travel to Mexico? Of course; she remembered the Mexican president’s visit and how friendly he was to the boss.
‘Is Mr. C concerned that in most cases, the onset of more dangerous symptoms happen in the 2nd week’, some guy from the Post asked. Didn't she already sort of answer this question, that Mr. C was fine and on his way to recovery?? And she wasn’t a doctor for Christ’s sake. Someone sort of asked another question (it wasn’t for her) so she just ignored the guy from the post and said yes, putting on that dazzling veneered smile that won her the title of Ms Kansas USA. Five more minutes of this & everything was going to be just fine.
(But it wasn’t. By Wednesday, the sec of housing & urban development started to cough persistently and violently and it wouldn’t stop so he rang 911. The reports after that were not clear, swept aside by a tide of fear and panic that arrived quickly and brutally. But the pattern was the same; the patient would go into an extended bout of paroxysmal coughing triggering cardiac arrest. Then about 10 to 15 minutes later, what was presumably a non-beating heart roars back to life. But the patient is neither conscious it seems nor really alive in the true sense of the word. The condition was feral and the body’s state in the first 48 hours could only be described as hyper-human regardless of the age or condition of the body. It was also contagious, passed on by bites. The driver of the ambulance that brought the sec of housing was oblivious of what was happening in the back; by the time they arrived at Walter Reed hospital, it disgorged a gaggle of contagion that quickly enveloped the greater Washington area within 24 hours.
It didn't help that the boss’ advisers- still tiptoeing around him- thought it was another piece of ghastly news spread by the fake media and put into effect a news blackout. By the time they realised that it was real - a livestream of a far-right rally in Virginia suddenly engulfed in hordes of infected ferals was broadcast on Fox- the infection had spread to North Carolina, New Jersey & New York.
The secret service flew the president-elect to a secret bunker on the West Coast as a hastily assembled cabinet grimly worked on the urgent task to formulate a plan of attack.
The boss, by now reeling with events that seemed even stranger than his election loss, managed to finally get on a chopper with his secret service agents and ordered his staff to go to his resort in Florida against their wishes. It’s fortified like Fort Knox and big, he screamed. We’ll be safe there! What he didn’t know was that in the midst of clearing out guests and non-essential workers, the mostly Cuban-American staff hid family members in the grounds for safety; two of them would later become infected).
Would you like another glass? She was nodding on & off, feeling perfectly content. Yes, please she replied to the stewardess who handed her a flute of champagne. She looked out the window, the horizon a very pale band of yellow. She couldn’t even remember what time she’d be arriving in Puerto Vallarta; she had left in a blur. Filing for leave was easier than she thought it would be; everyone was in a state of both panic and suspension that HR approved it without much thought. She was glad to leave all of that unpleasantness behind. I need to decompress, she told herself, to find some inner peace.
She had switched off her devices and vowed not to look at the news- she was done wth the goddamned news; her plane on its 40 hour plus course had left by the time the news blackout was lifted.
A new day, she thought looking out at the sunrise & tipping the glass to her lips. The champagne was beautifully crisp & cold..ahh the life..and then something seemed to catch, like there was a tiny, sharp prick to her throat. She coughed. The prick was now a stab and taken aback, the pain searing, she clutched at the back rest in front of her. Her eyes watering, her vision swimming there was only one primal thought- she needed to get rid of whatever was clutching at the inside of her throat. She coughed and coughed and for a second, she thought she found relief. But it was only the blankness of death. The worse was yet to come, but mercifully for Miss Kansas USA, she wouldn’t know any of it really.
