They pulled into the driveway and killed the headlights. At Jesse’s insistence, they waited for another few minutes to see if there were any changes in the neighboring homes or vehicles parked on the street. All seemed peaceful.
“Okay,” Jesse said. “Let’s go.”
They went in the front door, and Jonathan disappeared upstairs to his room. Jesse turned on the TV in the kitchen and found cold beer in the refrigerator. He offered one to Cassy and Pitt. Pitt accepted. The TV was tuned to CNN.
“This just in,” the reporter announced. “A few moments ago the White House canceled the multinational summit on terrorism, saying that the President has come down with the flu. Presidential press secretary Arnold Lerstein said that the meeting probably would have gone on as scheduled without the President except that, by coincidence, most of the other world leaders seemed to be suffering from the same illness. The President’s personal physician made the statement that he is convinced the President has the same ‘short’ flu that has been decimating Washington over the last few days and should resume normal duties in the morning.”
Pitt shook his head in dismay. “It’s taking over our whole civilization the same way a central nervous system virus takes over a host. It’s going for the brain.”
“We need a vaccine,” Cassy said.
“We needed it yesterday,” Jesse said.
The phone startled everyone. Cassy and Pitt looked at Jesse to see if they should answer it. Before Jesse could respond, Jonathan answered it upstairs.
Jesse charged up the stairs with Cassy and Pitt at his heels. He ducked into Jonathan’s room.
“Hold on,” Jonathan said into the phone, seeing the others. He told everyone that it was Dr. Miller.
“Put her on the speakerphone,” Jesse suggested.
Jonathan pushed the button.
“We are all here,” Jesse said. “You’re on a speakerphone. How did you fare?”
“Miserably,” Sheila admitted. “They led us on. It took several hours before I realized that they were all infected. The only thing they were interested in was how we’d found out what was going on.”
“Christ!” Jesse mumbled. “Was it hard to get away? Did they try to detain you?”
“Not initially,” Sheila said. “We told them we were just going to a motel to get some sleep. They must have followed us because they intercepted us on our way to the airport.”
“Was there trouble?” Jesse asked.
“There was,” Sheila admitted. “I’m sorry to say we lost Eugene.”
The group looked at each other. Everyone had a different interpretation of what “lost” meant. Jesse was the only one who knew for certain.
“Have you looked for him?” Jonathan asked.
“It was like the hospital room,” Sheila said. “If you know what I mean.”
“What hospital room?” Jonathan asked. He was getting panicky.
Cassy put her arm around Jonathan’s shoulder.
“Where are you?” Jesse asked.
“At the Atlanta airport,” Sheila said. “Nancy is in kind of a bad way as you might guess, but we’re coping. We’ve decided to come home, but we need someone to call up and prepay some tickets for us. We’re afraid to use our credit cards.”
“I’ll do that right away,” Jesse said. “We’ll see you as soon as you get back.”
Jesse hung up and dialed the airline ticket office. While he was making the arrangements, Jonathan asked Cassy directly if something had happened to his father.
Cassy nodded. “I’m afraid so,” she said. “But I don’t know what. You’ll have to wait until your mother comes back to find out more.”
Jesse hung up the phone and looked at Jonathan. He tried to think of something kind to say, but before he was able he heard the sound of skidding tires. From the front window came an intermittant flash of colored lights.
Running to the window Jesse parted the curtains. Outside in the street behind his car was a city police cruiser with its lights flashing. The uniformed occupants were just in the process of getting out, along with Vince Garbon. All had German shepherds on short leashes.
Other police department vehicles appeared, some marked, some not, including a paddy wagon. All pulled to a stop in front of the Sellers house and unloaded.
“What is it?” Pitt asked.
“The police,” Jesse said. “They must have been watching the place. I even see my old partner or what’s left of him.”
“Are they coming here?” Cassy asked.
“I’m afraid so,” Jesse said. “Kill all the lights.”
The group frantically raced around the house and turned out the few lights they had turned on. They ended up in the darkened kitchen. Flashlight beams from outside stabbed through windows. It was an eerie image.
“They must know we are here,” Cassy said.
“What are we going to do?” Pitt asked.
“I don’t think there’s much we can do,” Jesse said.
“This house has a hidden exit,” Jonathan said. “It’s through the basement. I used it to sneak out at night.”
“What are we waiting for?” Jesse said. “Let’s go!”
Jonathan led the way, carrying his laptop. They moved slowly and silently, avoiding the flashlight beams that came in through the kitchen bay window. Once they got to the cellar stairs and had closed the door, they felt a bit less vulnerable. But it was difficult going because of the absolute darkness. They were not willing to put on any light because the cellar had several small windows.
They moved in single file. They all hung onto each other to avoid getting lost. Jonathan led them to the back wall of the basement. Once there he opened a massive door that rumbled on its hinges. Cool air flowed out over their ankles.
“In case you are wondering what this is,” Jonathan said, “it’s a bomb shelter that was built back in the fifties. My parents use it as a wine cellar.”
They all entered and Jonathan told whoever was last to close the door. It settled into its jamb with a solid thump.
As soon as the door was closed, Jonathan switched on a light. They were in a cement passageway lined with wood shelving. A few cases of wine were haphazardly scattered about.
“This way,” Jonathan said.
They came to another door. Beyond the second door was a step down into a room twelve feet square with bunk beds and an entire wall of cupboards. There was also a well head and a tiny bathroom.
A second chamber had a kitchen. Beyond the kitchen was another solid door. This door lead to another corridor that eventually led outside to a dry river bed behind the Sellerses’ house.
“Well, I’ll be!” Jesse commented. “Just like the escape route from an old medieval castle. I love it.”
15
9:45 A.M.
“NANCY,” SHEILA CALLED GENTLY. “WE’RE HERE.”
Nancy’s eyes popped open, and she awoke with a start. “What time is it?” she asked, orienting herself to place and person.
Sheila told her.
“I feel awful,” Nancy said.
“You and me both,” Sheila said.
They had spent the night on the move in the Harts-field Atlanta International Airport, constantly afraid they would be recognized. Boarding their flight in the wee hours of the morning had been a relief of sorts. Neither had slept for forty hours. Once airborne they had fallen into a deep sleep.
“What am I going to say to my son?” Nancy asked, not really expecting an answer. Every time she thought about the fiery disappearance of her husband, tears came to her eyes.
The women gathered their things and made their way off the plane. They were paranoid of everyone and were sure people were staring at them. When they emerged from the jetway, Nancy saw Jonathan and rushed to him. They hugged silently for several minutes while Sheila greeted Jesse, Pitt, and Cassy.
“Okay, let’s move out,” Jesse said, tapping the silently grieving mother and child.
They walked in a group toward the ter
minal. The whole time Jesse’s head was aswivel as he constantly evaluated the people around them. He was pleased that no one was paying any attention to them, particularly airport security.
Fifteen minutes later they were in Jesse’s personal van heading for town. Sheila and Nancy described in detail their disastrous trip. In a shaky voice Nancy managed to explain Eugene’s last moments. The tragedy was greeted with silence.
“We have to decide where to go,” Jesse said.
“Our house will be the most comfortable,” Nancy said. “It’s not elegant but there’s a lot of room.”
“I don’t think that will be wise,” Jesse said. He then told Nancy and Sheila what had happened the evening before.
Nancy felt outraged. “I know it’s selfish of me to be so upset about a house considering everything that is going on,” she said. “But it’s my home.”
“Where did you all stay last night?” Sheila asked.
“At my cousin’s apartment,” Pitt said. “The problem is it’s only got three bedrooms and one bath.”
“Under the circumstances, convenience is a luxury we can’t afford,” Sheila said.
“This morning on the Today show a bunch of health officials told everyone that the flu that was going around was nothing to worry about,” Cassy said.
“They were probably from the CDC,” Sheila said. “Those bastards.”
“What bugs me is that the media hasn’t said one word about all the black discs,” Pitt said. “Why hasn’t the presence of the discs been questioned, especially after so many of them appeared?”
“They’re a harmless-appearing curiosity,” Jesse said. “People have certainly been talking about them, but it was never considered newsworthy. Unfortunately there’s no reason to make a connection between the discs and the flu until it is too late.”
“We’re going to have to figure out a way to start warning people,” Cassy said. “We can’t wait any longer.”
“Cassy’s right,” Pitt said. “It’s time for us to go public any way we can: TV, radio, newspapers, everything. The public has to know.”
“Screw the public,” Sheila said. “It’s the medical-scientific community we’ve got to get involved. Pretty soon there won’t be anybody left with the skills necessary to figure out a way to stop this thing.”
“I think the kids are right,” Jesse said. “We tried the CDC and bombed. We got to find some media people who are not infected and just blast this thing around the world. Problem is, I don’t know any media people except for a few slimy crime reporters.”
“No, Sheila’s right…” Nancy began.
Jonathan tuned out. He was crushed about his father’s fate. As a teenager the concept of death was totally unreal. To a large degree he couldn’t accept what he’d been told.
Jonathan’s attention drifted from the bickering inside the car to the appearance of the city. There were plenty of people out and about. It seemed from the beginning the streets were always full of people wandering no matter what time of day or night. And everybody was sporting a stupid fake smile.
Jonathan noticed something else as they passed through the downtown. The people were all busily interacting and helping each other. Whether it was a passerby aiding a workman unloading his tools or a child helping an older person with a parcel, the people were working together. To Jonathan the city resembled a beehive.
Inside the car the argument reached a crescendo with Sheila raising her voice to drown out Pitt.
“Shut up!” Jonathan cried.
To Jonathan’s surprise his outburst worked. Everyone looked at him, even Jesse, who was driving.
“This arguing is stupid,” Jonathan said. “We have to work together.” He tilted his head to the outside. “They certainly are.”
Chastised by a teenager, everyone took his suggestion and looked out at the scene around them. They saw what he meant and were sobered.
“It’s scary,” Cassy said. “They’re like automatons.”
Jesse turned onto the street where Pitt’s cousin’s apartment was located. He started to brake when he saw two cars he was certain were unmarked police cars. From his perspective he was sure that they were staking the place out. It was as if they had signs on their car proclaiming it.
“Here’s the apartment complex,” Pitt said when he noticed Jesse was about to pass by.
“We’re not stopping,” Jesse said. He pointed to the right. “See those two stripped-down, late-model Fords? Those are plainclothes officers. I’m sure of it.”
Cassy stared at the men.
“Don’t look!” Jesse warned. “We don’t want to attract their attention.”
Jesse kept driving.
“We could go to my apartment,” Sheila suggested. “But it’s a one-bedroom, and it’s high-rise.”
“I got a better place,” Jesse said. “In fact, it is perfect.”
TRAVELING IN A CARAVAN OF TWO OF RANDY NITE’S PERSONAL Mercedeses, Beau and a group of close aides drove from the institute to the Donaldson Observatory built on top of Jackson Mountain. The view from the site was spectacular, especially on such a clear day.
The observatory itself was as impressive as the location. It was a huge hemispheric dome set directly on top of the rocky pinnacle of the mountain. It was painted a glistening white that was blinding in the bright sunlight. Its dome shutter was closed to protect the enormous reflective telescope housed within.
As soon as the first car came to a stop, Beau hopped out along with Alexander Dalton. Alexander had been a lawyer in his previous life. Veronica Paterson got out from the driver’s side of the car. She was still dressed in her skintight spandex outfit. Beau had changed his clothes to a dark print, long-sleeved shirt. He had the collar turned up and the cuffs buttoned at his wrists.
“I hope this equipment is worth this effort,” Beau said.
“My understanding is that it is the latest model,” Alexander said. He was a tall, thin man with particularly long, spidery fingers. He was currently functioning as one of Beau’s closest aides.
The second Mercedes pulled up and a team of technicians got out. They were all carrying their tools.
“Hello, Beau Stark,” a voice called.
Everyone turned to see a white-haired man nearly eighty years old standing at an open door at the base of the observatory. His face was creased and creviced like a piece of dried fruit from the intensity of the high-altitude sun.
Beau walked over to the man and shook hands. Then he introduced Veronica and Alexander to Dr. Carlton Hoffman. Beau told his aides that they were meeting the reigning king of American astronomy.
“You’re too kind,” Carlton said. “Come on in and get started.”
Beau waved for his whole team to enter the observatory. They trooped in without a word.
“Do you need anything?” Carlton asked.
“I think we brought the tools we need,” Beau said.
The technicians immediately set to work dismantling the giant telescope.
“I’m particularly interested in the prime focus observing capsule,” Beau called out to one of the men who had climbed up into the interchangeable end assembly.
Beau turned to Carlton. “Of course you know you’re welcome at the institute any time you’d like to come,” he said.
“That’s kind of you,” Carlton said. “I’ll be there, especially once you are ready.”
“It’s not going to be too long,” Beau said.
“Stop!” a voice yelled. The sound echoed around inside the domed observatory. The dismantling came to a grinding halt. “What’s going on in here? Who are you people?”
All eyes turned to the air lock door. Standing in front of it was a small, mousy man. He coughed violently but continued to fiercely eye the workers who’d taken apart portions of the telescope.
“Fenton, we’re over here,” Carlton called out to the man. “Everything is okay. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
The newly arrived individual’s name was Fento
n Tyler. His position was Assistant Astronomer, and as such, he was the heir apparent of Carlton Hoffman. Fenton cast a quick glance in Carlton’s direction, but then quickly looked back at the workers lest they unscrew another single bolt.
“Please, Fenton,” Carlton said. “Come over here.”
Reluctantly Fenton moved sideways, continuing to keep his beloved telescope in view. As he approached Beau and the others, it was apparent he was sick.
“He has the flu,” Carlton whispered to Beau. “I didn’t expect him to come over.”
Beau nodded knowingly. “I understand,” he said.
Fenton reached his boss’s side. He was pale and feverish. He sneezed violently. Carlton introduced him to Beau and explained that Beau was borrowing portions of the telescope.
“Borrowing?” Fenton repeated. He was totally confused. “I don’t understand.”
Carlton put his hand on Fenton’s shoulder. “Of course you don’t understand,” he said. “But you will. I promise you that you will and sooner than you imagine.”
“Okay!” Beau called out while clapping his hands loudly. “Back to work, everyone. Let’s get it done.”
Despite Carlton’s comments, Fenton was aghast at the destruction he was witnessing and voiced his confusion. Carlton drew him aside to try to explain it.
“I’m glad Dr. Hoffman was here,” Alexander said.
Beau nodded. But he was no longer thinking about the interruption. He was thinking about Cassy.
“Tell me, Alexander,” Beau said. “Have you been able to locate that woman I asked you about?”
“Cassy Winthrope,” Alexander said. He knew instantly to whom Beau was referring. “She’s not been located. Obviously she’s not one of us yet.”
“Hmm,” Beau said pensively. “I never should have let her out of my sight when she made her surprise visit. I don’t know what came over me. I suppose it was some vestigial romantic human trait. It’s embarrassing. At any rate, find her.”
“We’ll find her,” Alexander said. “No doubt.”
THE LAST MILE WAS ROUGH GOING, BUT JESSE’S VAN MAN-aged to navigate the ruts in the poorly maintained dirt road.