The Flu 1/2 (7 page)

Paul was grateful that wasn’t the case. A second crew arrived within five hours of Paul’s dawn call, and things were quickly underway.

Having seen enough, Paul gave a nod to the photographer in the recreation room and walked out. He paused to watch another worker prepare to seal the room, while yet another worker collected air samples.

He picked up the small silver box on the floor, a box filled with tissue samples he himself took when they first arrived at the isolated location, and then Paul left the building.

The silver vehicle that Paul entered looked like a heavy duty mobile home. After disinfecting and removing his biohazard suit, he left the samples in the lab portion of the module and sought out the small desk where the paper portion of the investigation would occur.

If Paul’s messy hair was any indication of his mental state, then his mind was haywire. He plopped down into the desk chair, took a moment to relax and stared at the phone with trepidation.

He had to do it. Henry was waiting on the call. Paul dialed the direct line, the link to the main research center, and it was answered immediately.

“Paul, give me some good news,” was Henry’s greeting instead of ‘hello.’

“I wish.” Paul’s words were saddened.

“All of them?” Henry asked.

“All of them.”

“When you called this morning, you said there were deaths.”

Paul let out a slight chuckle in spite of his distress. “It was as I thought.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m going on a guess from what I visually assessed. I’m waiting to see if one of the team up here started at least some documentation. But...” he let out a sigh, “looks like the last ice storm cut all power to the station. Emergency generators ran out. No gas in them. No power, Henry, no containment, you know that. Sealed but not secure. Somehow it got out.”

“Maybe the elements—”

“No.” Paul interrupted. “No. We’ll send the pictures ASAP. I don’t even need blood tests to confirm it. You should see them. No doubt. The biggest mistake they made, and they should have known better, but I’m going with the delirium of illness...they locked themselves in the rec room, and to stay warm, they lit a fire. Burned furniture and such. The fire eventually burned out. However, you know the size of that rec room, that fireplace. Bet you it stayed a good seventy degrees while that fireplace roared.”

“Christ,” Henry said, “A virtual breeding ground.”

“Breeding ground gone mad. You know the bug multiplies. So their staying warm—”

“Sped things up.” Henry’s heavy exhalation carried over the phone.

“Had that fire not burned out, had that room not frozen over, it would have been a virtual viral time bomb the second that door was opened,” Paul stated. “We’re just lucky.”

“That we are. We thought ahead when we chose the location. The elements work in our favor, you know that, Paul,” Henry told him. “And, no one really knows they’re there.”

“True.” Paul lifted his eyes from the desk when the side door to the mobile opened and a female assistant walked in. “So in essence, we may have lost our people, but we didn’t lose the battle. With no outside contact, the bug died along with our people. Frozen over, so we’ll...” There was silence, a long silence from Paul that conveyed almost as much panic as when he gasped, “Oh my God.”

“What?” Henry asked. “What is it?”

Paul didn’t answer. His heart sunk, and he was unable to breathe as he looked down at the small, handmade Eskimo bag that his assistant laid on his desk.

* * *

Lodi, Ohio

Officer Haddock knocked just once on the open door to Mick’s office. “Busy, Chief?”

“Nah.” Mick rocked some in his chair, eyes glued to the computer. “Just reading my emails. All twenty-seven of them.”

“Twenty-seven emails. Aren’t you popular?”

“Not really. They’re all from Dylan.”

“Speaking of Dylan,” Officer Haddock said, “her Dad just filed vandalism charges. Seems someone spray-painted his front window. Not bad, but you know Mr. Roberts.”

“You’re shitting me?” Mick turned around. “Who in the hell would do something like that?”

Officer Haddock pointed back with his thumb. “Culprit caught. Sitting out front waiting to be arrested.”

Mick stood up from behind his desk. With intimidation, wanting to blast the teenager who did it, he stormed into the main area of the police station and stopped cold. “Aw, damn it.” He shook his head. “Dylan.”

Dylan stood up and held out her hands. “Arrest me, Mick. I’m a criminal.”

“What the hell is this?” he asked then looked to the snickering officer. “Did Mr. Roberts really press charges?”

“Yep,” Officer Haddock answered. “What should I do?”

Mick grunted and motioned for Dylan to follow him. He turned and went to his office.

Dylan happily followed.

Upon her entrance, Mick shut the door and walked to his desk. “Sit.”

“Fine.” Dylan sat down.

“Now, why do you want me to arrest you?” Mick asked as he settled in his chair.

“It’s the only way to get you to talk to me.”

“I talk to you,” Mick said. “I said hello this morning. Asked how you were. Did I not?”

“Mick,” Dylan almost whined. “Four days. It’s been four days since you paid attention to me other than just as the Chief of Police.”

“I am the Chief of Police,” Mick stated.

“I thought we were more,” Dylan said.

“We’re broke up.”

“You never officially said it.”

“Fine.” Mick lifted his hands. “I break up with you.”

“You can’t break up with me. You have never broken up with me.”

“There’s always a first time,” Mick stated. “Has to be this way, Dylan.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Nothing I can do?” Dylan asked.

“Nope.” Mick stood firm.

“All right.” Slowly, Dylan stood up. She started to leave and stopped. “Are you sure?”

“As much as I’d like to say ‘no’. I can’t.” Mick shook his head. “I have to stick to this decision.”

“Bet you I can entice you,” Dylan said sneakily.

“No way. I’m tough.”

“Right.” Dylan reached for the door. “I’ll go.” She sighed out. “Nothing I can do?”

After a shifting his eyes to the computer, Mick nodded. “Yeah, you can stop sending me all these goddamn emails every day. And now, look what you did today. You resorted to attaching large documents. Takes forever to download. What the hell did you send me? More forwarded jokes?”

“Pictures,” Dylan answered.

“Of?” Mick asked.

“Me.” She paused. “Naked.”

After a quick spin of his chair back to the computer, Mick maneuvered the mouse. “Oh, shit.” he said like a kid. “Oh, shit.”

“See?”

Eyes glued, Mick tilted his head with a wide grin. “Twenty-seven of them?”

“Twenty-seven. Took it with the digital camera so the guy at the photo place didn’t get an eyeful.”

“Who...” Mick quickly shook his head. “Who took these?”

“Tracy.”

“Who’s Tracy?” Mick asked.

“You know, that girl from Wadsworth that comes in every Monday for karaoke. Wild girl, pretty. I go out and drink every once in a while with her. You know.”

“Yeah, I do.” Mick’s eyes went wide. “You did these poses...in front of her?”

“Yep. For you.” Dylan opened the door. “To entice you. Thought I’d take the sexual arousal route.”

Mick cleared his throat. “Might work if I see some hot female on female action.”

“Pictures fifteen though eighteen.”

Mick quickly turned to Dylan, but he faced the closing door. Dylan had left. He half-stood to follow her, but stopped. He sat back down, looked at his computer. “Nah. She’s joking.” After reaching, he hesitated, started to stand, but stopped again. Halfway back to his chair, Mick clicked on picture fifteen. As the picture revealed itself, his eyes never leaving the screen, Mick missed the chair and toppled knees first to the floor.

* * *

Davenport, Iowa

“Go ahead. Give it to me.” Darrell exhaled as he drove. “I’m higher.”

“Can’t be,” Jeff argued.

“I’m telling you. Go on.” Nodding at Jeff, Darrell edged on. “Go on.”

“Seven forty.” Jeff counted the remaining bills in his wallet. “You?”

“Seven fifty-five.” Darrell said. “Told you I lost more.”

“We should have never come back here.”

“But we won when we came here before Kansas.”

“So does that mean we really lost?” Jeff asked. “I mean, if we won four days ago, and we lost all but fifty back, we didn’t lose.”

A bright smile hit Darrell. “My friend, I feel much better.”

“You should. Whew.” Jeff chuckled. “And here I was going to get upset.”

“Damn, we are doing good this trip.”

“We are. Still ahead.” Jeff replaced his wallet in his pocket.

“I was concerned, you know, with our next stop. But now I’m up for it. You?”

“Very much so,” Jeff said. “Doing a surveillance on that casino owner for a week isn’t a bad deal.”

“He may know about Rodriguez.”

“They do suspect him of being the banker,” Jeff added.

“Actually, our man Rodriguez, A.K.A., David Lappula, Arthur Stiller, Winston Hillchurch...” Darrell listed.

“And don’t forget Chen Yung.”

“Can’t forget that identity,” Darrell continued. “He may actually be with ‘Casino Man’.”

“And if he isn’t, I’m never one to complain about seeing Reno.”

“Me either.” Darrell let out an excited breath as he drove, just a little faster. “Man, you have to love this job.”

“I do.” Jeff smiled widely. “As long as we aren’t in Ohio.”

* * *

Andapa Village

Madagascar, Africa

Poco was the name Lars Rayburn had given the fifteen-year old boy when he had taken him under his wing three years earlier. He was abandoned by his family, labeled evil, and left to die after a botched attempt to physically exhume the demon intertwined in his gut.

The boy’s name wasn’t really Poco; what it was, Lars didn’t know. The boy never corrected him and the new name stuck.

Poco was bright, smart, and finally happy again. But he couldn’t talk, nor could he write. He had lost not only his hands, but his tongue as well when severe gangrene caused their amputation at the young age of five. Gangrene resulting from a form of Bubonic plague, a common occurrence in Madagascar.

“Ohio,” Lars spoke slowly to Poco. “Form the word with your mouth. Ohio.”

Poco did.

“Now I tell you this every year. I am going back to Ohio.” Lars smiled. “Remind me to play you that song.”

Poco tilted his head with a smile.

“Mrs. Dune will watch you. You know to monitor my animals, correct?”

Poco nodded.

“She won’t go into that back room. She says it smells. Remember that any paper the machine spits out, you hide.”

Poco gave a thumbs up.

Lars walked to his dresser and pulled out clothes. “Not taking much. I have items in Ohio. They’ll be dusty though.” He walked the clothes to his suitcase. “I tried, you know, to get clearance to take you with me, but the government wouldn’t approve it. I’ll bring you back something.”

Poco rubbed his forearm over his shirt

“Of course, I’ll bring you back a tee shirt. Ohio State.” Lars grinned and shut his suitcase. “Well... how about you and I have some food before I embark on my journey? Sound good, my silent friend?”

Smiling, Poco nodded.

“Shall we?” Laying a hand on Poco’s back, Lars led him from the bedroom. He dreaded the beginning of any trip that took him from Madagascar. Shots, quarantines, all just to go back home. But once he was en route, Lars was fine.

He enjoyed working with all the rare illnesses that seemed to float around him in Africa. But it always felt so good to take that yearly month-long trip to go home to Lodi, Ohio, where the worst illness that ever showed up was a few simple cases of the flu.

* * *

Lodi, Ohio

It was an extremely hot August day, and Mick expected Dylan to be lounging in her pool. She usually did on hot days, because Dylan was never one to be pleasant in the heat. She called it her humidity Midol.

Mick heard the splash of the water as he approached the back yard. He looked down at the sheet of paper in his hand once more with a shit-eating grin, rolled it up, placed it in his back pocket, and peeked through the trees into Dylan’s yard.