resonance

Login | Sign Up | Blog | Help

resonance

Share Send Embed Download Spam

Document Information

Views:103 Analytics

Keywords:five million years, homing pigeons, dino boy, magnetic south, airline pilots, aviation history, rticles, tupid, magnetic poles, honeybees, ritten, laz, author unknown, compas, magnetics, exact location, wais, whims, compasses, time today, five million years, homing pigeons, dino boy, magnetic south, airline pilots, aviation history, rticles, tupid, magnetic poles, honeybees, ritten, laz, author unknown, compas, magnetics, exact location, wais, whims, compasses, time today

Added By: Sid Joshi

Date Added:Nov 24 2009 3:00PM

Category:Fiction

Type:Book

License:Attribution Non-commercial No-derivs Public_domain

Description:
#font 54561 "DMLZBS+Garamond 872 0" T he thick smell of blood wasnt a shock. He was used to it. What startled Lee was the woman. She was sitting at the dining room table, seemingly oblivious to the c arnage mounted on the wall behind her. She was working over something, like she was writing, and deep in her work where she didnt acknowledge him. A large red bow, the kind you would put on a three foot Christmas present, stole his attention sitting t here on the table beside her. She wrote with precision, her head bent low, her rich chestnut hair worked into braids and wound round her head in a style that ca........

Comments
Analytics
Searchability
Document Content

Your browser does not support inline frames or is currently configured not to display inline frames.

Your browser does not support inline frames or is currently configured not to display inline frames.

Your browser does not support inline frames or is currently configured not to display inline frames.

Your browser does not support inline frames or is currently configured not to display inline frames.

Display Content
#font 54561 "DMLZBS+Garamond 872 0" T he thick smell of blood wasnt a shock. He was used to it. What startled Lee was the woman. She was sitting at the dining room table, seemingly oblivious to the c arnage mounted on the wall behind her. She was working over something, like she was writing, and deep in her work where she didnt acknowledge him. A large red bow, the kind you would put on a three foot Christmas present, stole his attention sitting t here on the table beside her. She wrote with precision, her head bent low, her rich chestnut hair worked into braids and wound round her head in a style that called to mind . Lee suppressed the boiling anger in him down to something i n the range of a solid simmer and took a step toward her, wondering if she was in shock. Her right hand came up sharply, one leather gloved finger telling him to wait a minute, but the rigid control he saw in her told him she intended for him to wait as l ong as she wanted. In that moment he saw what he had previously missed. She wore leather, in several shades of shadow, from her fingertips to her toes. The braids werent cute, they were cop hair the kind you couldnt get a hold on and use to yank a p erson around. There. Surprisingly, given the growing stench of death emanating from what Lee was now pretty certain was her handiwork, her voice was musical and held a low note of pride. She stood and turned to face him, holding the bow and what was apparently a large gift tag. And she smiled at him. The smile reached her large chocolate eyes, and Lee felt the blood drain out the soles of his feet. She was insane. Clinically insane. There was no other reason a person would be truly happy here. Add in that she was armed to the teeth a short dagger was sheathed at her waist, a pair of matched sais were slid into long thin pockets down each thigh, strange wood and metal sickles slipped gracefully through lined up loops so they didnt jangle whe n she walked and the sweetness he had initially perceived fled like dandelion tufts. She looked at him like she would a small puppy sitting at the edge of her living room, like he was cute and non threatening. Lees hand inched under his jacket to his hip, fondling the warm butt of the 9mm there. Given everything else, he wouldnt put it past her to be fast. But she didnt say anything, just went about fastening the bow to the body and plumping it a little, like she was Martha Stewart off to a birthda y party. The body was held to the wall behind it by serviceable unadorned throwing knives. At least he was pretty certain they were unadorned, only the last inch of the handle was visible on each of the six that knives that had crucified the man to the w all. Lee thought he had seen lethal in his time, but it looked like the body had been alive when it had been pinned there, and the buried knives were sunk into wall studs. It was the only way that the heft of the large, muscular man wouldnt have come fo rward, bringing drywall with him. That took planning. The face of the man on the wall sagged, eyes and mouth open, blood running in thin rivulets from the edges of each. He had suffered a thousand punctures and surface slices in his final moments, an d the woman carried exactly the implements to do it. Although she must have cleaned them thoroughly before sliding them into their leather homes along her lean legs. Stepping back she admired the tag. Lee, for the first time, read it. In payment for murder, rape, and the destruction of families. One by one, she used claw like throwing stars to pin obituaries, newspaper articles, and pieces of police reports to dead flesh. After a moment Lee no longer cared what she was tacking to the corpse, he just wondered where in hell the stars were coming from. She would simply produce another and another, like a sick magician. She turned to smile at him again, and his breath hitched. A wailing started deep at the back of his head. Hed been wrong. She was just a girl. #font 469 "RJJWPB+TimesNewRomanPS BoldMT 865 0" #font 247 "RJFOSU+Garamond Italic 861 0" For Eli without whom none of this would have been possible The Sound of Music #font 222 "HEIMZK+TimesOE Roman 857 0" by A J Scudiere #font 112 "VVUBRS+ArialMT 963 0" Resonance Copyright 2007 by Griffyn Ink. All rights reserved. No part of this document may be used or reproduced in an manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotati ons embodied in critical articles and reviews. FIRST EDITION ISBN 0 9799510 0 3 #font 17 "RRNSPL+TimesNewRomanPSMT 971 0" 1 2 Resonance 3 4 Human life is important only to humans auth or unknown Mans greatest triumphs stand no chance against the whims of nature author unknown 5 6 Chapter 1 Chapter 1 he thought to himself. Didnt know how to grid a dig properly. . What had he been thinking? Sharing a site with the dino boys? And now he had chunks of strata strapped to his waist, each meticulously labeled in the dino boys lazy scrawl. Each clearly mislabeled fo r direction or depth of find. They had acted like they understood the dip and the horizontal. But the markings were clearly honked up. Yet, some of the rocks looked right. Which was the ultimate insult. David couldnt even count on them to be wrong. Maybe they were fucking with him, he sighed into the deep night, that was a sincere possibility. There was nothing like envy laced with continual disagreement to drive a wedge of dislike between two people. Those two people being him and anyone else on the dig. Your choice, as it was pretty much unanimous. The paleo guys were all out for drinks and a discussion of the days successes. There was that one big heap of bones, and oh yeah, that other big heap of bones, then there were the bone chips. Us ing the winch and harness system they had set up, David lowered himself down the incline, tiptoeing and letting out line as he went. Not because he couldnt have scrambled his way down he could have, the slope was a just walkable 45 degrees but, in or der to go on foot, he would have to dig in with his toes to get purchase and the dig would have been forfeit. Couldnt have that. At least he and the dino boys agreed on this one thing. The other thing they had agreed to was not to hang out in the dig alone. That, of course, made sense. No one wanted to be the one left at the base of the site with a broken leg while everyone else ate lunch, or worse yet stayed out all night drinking. And no one wanted to be the one who mucked up the site, with no one around to say what went where. But just because he had agreed it didnt mean that he agreed it. And, well, if David was being honest, they had already ruined the site, what with all the mislabeling and everything. Therefore the only thing he w as risking was his own night out under the big black sky with a few broken bones. So he slowly kept letting out the line, getting a little further down the slope each minute. He didnt go too fast, for Gods sake he wasnt stupid, and the pitch here was a bit on the sharp side. His foot hit the first grid line. A thin white string wound round a short post hammered into the ground denoting the edge of the official dig area. David swore a few times under his breath, sure that he had scuffed a few loose pieces of rock into the dig. And that would earn him nothing but verbal and social hell come tomorrow morning. He decided to take it all a little more carefully. Besides now he was far enough down the backside of the slope that he wouldnt be spotted. The camp was on the other side of the crest where it wouldnt interfere with the dig, and no party poopers making their way back early would see his beam as long as it was a small one. And that meant no bright headlamps. So he pulled the flashlight free, slipping it from the carabineer on his belt with a flick of his wrist. , he had shoved some pieces under the grid edge. Softly he stepped down and began flinging the loose gravel away. After five minutes at it he figured that he had covered his t racks well enough for a man who was probably going to get caught anyway and he decided to get down to brass tacks. 7 Pulling one zipper bag from its carabineer at his waist he tacked his line and used both hands to pull the rock from its baggie. Tilting his head, with the small Maglight firmly between his teeth, he read off the coordinates, then picked up the line. David let himself down a few more feet and high stepped to the right about fifteen yards, watching carefully for the meter lines that ran the gr id. They had originally been only a few inches off the surface, but as this dig had progressed they had altered the smooth plane to extremely uneven, leaving the ground anywhere from just a few inches to just over a foot below the grid lines. The perfect heights for getting an ankle tangled and then bashing into the slope of the dig. And, oh yeah, breaking said ankle and mucking up said dig while you did it. He moved slowly and carefully, each footstep set methodically into the loose ground, so as not to grind or scour any of the precious soil or bone chips out of place. And lifted high with the same care. Right foot right, find footing, left foot follow, set down carefully. It seemed to take an eternity to get to the other side of the fifteen yard gr id to the labeled home of his rock. As he landed, finally, in his square, he tacked the guide line again, allowing his weight to sit back against the taut rope. With the light in one hand he held up the baby rock and turned it over. It was sedimentary, full of fossilized organic matter and exactly what anyone would expect of a layer from this location. His eyes perused all of this, reading it the way you would read a newspaper, for the whole story and never one letter at a time. This piece had clearl y belonged to an ancient streambed. From what the dino boys were finding, the water had nourished a whole bunch of critters up until the very last moment. What caused that last moment was Davids job. He liked the rocks, and it was natural to assume th at he had gotten into this profession because of his father. The layers reminded him of his Dad a lot: cold, hard, and unreadable to all but the most trained of observers. David was an expert reader of both. Although, in his estimate, the rock was alway s easier to get a bead on at first and easier to get along with. Also, the rock always gave up the whole story eventually. The streambed and the sediment was ABCs. What David was reading as he rotated his chunk of old earth and his flashlight was the t iny shiny chips in his piece. Now they were talking. And they said that the Paleo boys were retarded. Shaking his head, he used the letter and number code on the tape to line the rock up with the direction and pitch it was supposed to have come from. Letting a little more slack into the line, he leaned down and placed the rock into the spot it supposedly called home for eons, until yesterday. Davids head tilted. His Maglight circled, and he studied the lay of the strata in the bed and the rock. It looked a little too damn good. Not to mention the remaining side of the bed from which the piece he held had been chipped. The two sides fit together like a puzzle piece. Shrugging, David slipped the rock back into its baggie and pulled the permanent ma rker from his back pocket. He checked the upper right side of the label and clipped it back to his pants just as his stomach let a loud growl. His head perked, just as it had when he was a boy afraid of getting caught. But no one appeared to have heard. Hell, no one appeared to be within fifty miles of the site. Cursing silently to himself, he wondered why it would have been so hard to slip a piece of jerky into a pocket, or for gods sakes, make a sandwich. It wasnt like he didnt have a belt full of zipper baggies already. But he didnt have time to go back. He needed to check his pieces and not make more enemies on the dig than he already had. 8 So he pulled the next rock from its zipper pouch and carefully began making his way to another grid squa re. Lift foot, set foot, lift other foot, set foot. Four hours later he hadnt tripped at all, which was a miracle since he was silently swearing a blue streak. The dino boys hadnt mislabeled a single rock, which only made him more furious. Hell, you couldnt count on them for . And if the rocks were all aligned right, then the rest was all aligned wrong. An eddy in the stream could explain one spot, maybe even a few, but not the consistency of the whole dig. A bright light shone into his eye s, blinding him more easily than the dark of night ever had. Hey, pretty boy! It was Greer. David had always figured that pretty boy was the best Greer could come up with since he wasnt one much inclined to the use of the more apt . You don e checking out our grid markings? You didnt break any bones did you?! No, Fuckwad, I didnt. David held his hand up in front of his face. He was going to catch hell for this. He knew it now. Thats too bad. Greer directed his five billion mega watt stadium light at the ground and slowly Davids sight came back. He started climbing the slope cautiously and methodically, as Greer taunted him all the way. Well, seems we disappointed you didnt we? You thought we had mislabeled all your stones. Theyre not stones. David growled as he climbed. Too bad. Now youre going to have to do some real geology work. Not just come out and wave your hand like you always do and spout off whats that the rest of us must be blind. Congra tulations, Greer. You are right on so many counts. My rocks were in fact labeled correctly How many of them? Greer taunted. of them. Uh huh. And I do in fact have little bit of work to do when I get back to the tent He stopped climbing. Greer spotlighted him again. It would have blinded him, but he wasnt looking in front of him, just staring into the space ahead. If it meant what he thought it meant. . . well, . . . What is it David? I want everyone off the site tomorrow. Just yo u and me. I need to check all other possibilities. Everyone off the dig tomorrow!? Jesus, David, do you know what youre asking? Is your Daddy gonna pay our salaries? No, but the royalties off my paper will. Dammit, Greer, clear the site tomorrow. If it was what he thought it was . . . well, he might just prove that the David Carter II geology center had been worth its money. G od, what was it that made her feel like such a fool? All that school, all that prestige, and yet she stood there like a moron. Eyes wide, yes yes monosyllabic answers to each question. The horrible, lost feeling of being in an unfamiliar institution. So you two are the new peons. 9 Jillian nodded. Yes. There it was again. The idiocy. The guy beside her Jar ed? Jeff? Jacob? was cool and only raised his eyebrows to the question. Dr. Landerly was hunched over his desk and had whitish hair that stuck out in about fifty different directions and looked as though it hadnt made friends with a brush in a lifetime or so. He had male pattern balding and probably arthritis, judging by the way he held his pen. Whether he didnt look at them because of pain or out of sheer rudeness was anybodys guess. You two turned in all your documentation and fingerprinting cra p down in HR? Jake flicked the new badges hanging from their pristine white jackets, Yup, hence the ten a.m. arrival. Ready for the tour? At the sound of yet another one word answer, he finally looked up at them. For a moment he simply looked th em both up and down, taking their measure. Jillian did the first proactive deed of her day and sized him up too. Landerlys face reminded her of a grandfather, not her own, but that old man look, crossed with a little mad scientist. With his focus turne d on them, she felt the same intensity that the papers he was marking on must have felt just minutes before. She was surprised the pages hadnt burst into flame before she and whats his name walked in and pulled a little of the good doctors attention fr om them. Well, you must be Jillian Brookwood, and you must be Jordan Abellard. . Landerly tapped his forehead, Deductive reasoning. And despite the insanely poor joke, she began to like him. He simply turned and began walking down the hallway, talking as he went and expecting them to keep pace behind them. He never checked. This is your office. He pointed to his left into an open door and what could only be called a large cubby. He was already walking away. Jillian had to nearly run to catch up with him, already midsentence. that whole half of the building is I.D. That part youll only go in on an as needed basis. Which basically means never. Unless you get promoted, or we decide we dont need you or dont like you but cant think of a better way to get rid of you. For the first time Jordan turned to her, his eyebrows raised until she shrugged in return. Dr. Landerlys voice trailed off as her focus slipped to the signs on the wall. Every etched plate had the tiny inscription on the top But Landerly was old school and still referred to it as the CDC. Not ten minutes later Jillian realized that they had walked a short circle, and Jordan wasnt missing that fact ei ther. Thats it? Sure. Landerly fixed them with another stare. If you want to see the Infectious Disease side, you can go get your own tour. I told you, youre peons. Im a Jordan stopped himself. Were physicians. Yes, and youre unde rlings. And youre at the CDC. On my team youll be spending a lot of time drawing blood and writing reports. Which, Jillian admitted, had been exactly the job description. So she wasnt sure where Jordan got off being upset. In truth, it had been ju st that part of the work that had made her apply. She had spent all that time and money on medical school, only to find out that she hated the endless churn of minor complaints that flowed through a doctors office. This job had been her proof that she h adnt chosen the wrong profession. 10 Landerly had disappeared back into his office, and by craning her neck she could see him scrubbing through the most disorganized desk ever. But he held out two identical key chains and spoke again. Keys to your office and your lab next door. Go check it out then get cracking, youve already got three cases sitting on your desk. There was no other dismissal, no wish of good luck or welcome, just the turn of his shoulder and the intensity of his focus directed elsewhe re. The two of them no longer existed to him. Turning, they silently followed Landerlys instruction walking two doors down to the plaque that read G 1763 . Hi. Jordans voice filled the empty space around a young man with inky hai r who stood at the basic black lab island dialing the micropipette to a new measure. Oh, Hi. You two must be the new docs. Im your tech. For a brief moment he held out a gloved hand before realizing what he was doing and withdrawing the offer. I m Mark. Im prepping slides for Landerly right now, but let me know what you need. My desk is in the back. He pointed to the corner, to a table piled with skewed stacks of loose papers and file folders of various colors. Nice to meet you. Jordan pulled back out of the doorway and wound up leading her back to their office, where they spent four minutes choosing which side of the large desk they each wanted, then another hour exploring the file cabinet they shared, and finding out what the previous occupants had left for them. Which turned out to be an odd mix of pens, pencils, microtesttubes and pipette tips, and one stick of mint chewing gum. After a half hour of hardly speaking she finished up organizing her drawers and labeling her hanging f iles, only to look up and find Jordan watching her from across the desk. Its two thirty, are you hungry? She nodded. But he spoke again before she could get in a word edgewise. You find the cafeteria and Ill treat. She would have rather paid, bu t she held her tongue. She could do this, right? On the tour Landerly had pointed down one corridor and mentioned food and vending machines. With a deep breath she marched off in the general direction they had started, and faked it to the best of her ability. Two corridors later she could smell that she had found the right one. Then, after they ordered, she completely disoriented them on the way back. After they got situated and endured a few minutes of silent chewing, Jordan leaned forward. Si nce we get to stare at each other until one of us goes insane or gets promoted, why dont we get started with the usual stupid questions? She almost smiled. Almost. The usual ones? Like Where are you from? He leaned back and Jillian barely cove red her gasp at realizing the vast majority of his lunch had already been reduced to empty wrappers. Im from Lake James, North Dakota. Where its colder than a w . . . well just about anything, and theres really a lot more bible thumping and militia t han you might guess. College and med school at UCLA. Your turn. Emory Med, but I grew up in Chattanooga. Same town through undergrad. She smiled from behind her limp cheeseburger. Favorite fast food? Mine is Chick Fil A nuggets. Whats Chick Fillay? Ahhh, Ill take you tomorrow. Jordan shrugged. Favorite burger is Jack in the Box Bacon Ultimate Cheeseburger. Jack in the Box? She supposed thats what happened when you met someone from the opposite end of the country. 11 Ahhh, good , cheap food. College student fare. Too bad I cant return the Chick Fillay favor. Jack in the Box is only out west. Satisfied that she had the basics, Jillian figured it was time to start earning her keep. We should get to work on these cases. C an I just guess now? Botulism, gas leak, and Salmonella. Really? She put her hand to her hip. I would have had you pegged for a secret government weapons being tested on our own people type. Nah, Im a realist. He picked up the folder and st arted through it, while she made a thinking noise. He laughed. Do you realize that you even hmmm with a southern accent? She nodded. Cant be helped. J ordan was pissed. The cases in their box this morning had turned out to be botulism, botulis m and botulism. One, he was mad that his guess was wrong. Two, he had skipped the invite to UCLAs PhD program to come here and do research as a physician, even though he would only occasionally be putting the vast majority of his med school skills to wo rk. He had thought that this would be more exciting than telling mothers that their kiddies had ear infections or strep throat. Three, they hadnt even had to leave their desks to figure the damn thing out. Four, Miss Jillian had turned out to be anal r etentive. Although turned out was being generous. She had looked the part from moment one. Aaaaaaaack. Where was the next AIDS when your life needed a spark? Miss Jillian was sitting across from him diligently making notes in the two files that she held while he scanned the new one that had turned up in their inbox this morning. Jillian gave him a dirty look that he wasnt helping her write reports, and it occurred to him that Landerly had done this on purpose. Jordan was to be the forward thinker, the one who would make those reasoning leaps, and Jillian was the workhorse. Her nose wrinkled and she brushed her hair back again. Not that it accomplished anything other than her getting to move her arm. The hank of hair fell right back over her sho ulder. The phone buzzed, startling him about three feet into the air, and he was already trying to cover that fact before he was even back down. Landerly wants us. Jillian stared a brief moment through not entirely open eyes. That was so not smooth. But she followed him next door and graciously didnt mention it again. Landerly stood as they entered the office, his attention a physical sensation as it turned from the phone to the two of them. This is why I created you guys. Like God? Jill ians voice was dry and Jordan wasnt sure if she was kidding or what. But Landerly was, and he laughed a good guffaw and responded with Maybe a demigod, before continuing. So Jillian was already his favorite. How could two people on this earth have that same sense of humor? The older man held up a file before speaking. Ive got a little girl in Deltona, Florida with a spider bite reaction that the local docs say doesnt look like your basic anaphylactic shock. They think the spider has some new venom or maybe is a vector carrying something else. Shes all yours. He handed the file to Jillian just as Jordan decided that there wasnt anything he could do 12 about it. And maybe he hadnt been hired to be the brilliant theorist. Which of course mea nt he would have to get his butt in gear and do some work. Anne in reception will have your schedule. You need to leave this evening to see the reaction and do anything before it gets worse. And like turning off the light, his focus was off them and they were expected to find their own way out. By now Jordan knew his way around and he certainly knew Anne. She was the adorable blonde in reception, and he had made those thoughts clear to her this morning. Anne handed each of them an itinerary, but i t was Jordan her eyes remained on. Not that he was going to dip his pen in the company ink, but there was a certain warmth in knowing the ink was receptive to being dipped. Jillian was walking away before he realized it and he smiled good bye to Anne bef ore turning to follow his cubby mate down the hall. At their desk, Jillian turned and stared at him, leaving him ready for some scathing remark about his behavior, but instead, with no preamble, she asked about Landerly. Do you think hes just too old to go off gallivanting around the country? Why do you think he set up his team of two here? Why us? Jordan had no good answers and he told her so. But he did offer to make up for getting lost on the way to lunch yesterday and asked where he could fin d this Chick Fillay. We have time to do fast food, right? And the fast part is the part you seem to be having trouble with. She didnt look up and he couldnt decipher the dryness in her tone. He had heard it several times now and he truly wasn t sure what to make of it. That scared the crap out of him. And given that they were on their way out the door for a company road trip, and since she was a co worker, he figured hed better find his footing right away. Are you mad at me because I got us lost yesterday? Or for something else? Her face was unreadable. Well, he thought it was. She just looked a little confused and maybe perturbed. No, Im not angry. After tilting her head to the side for a moment, she nodded. Youre worried t hat Im one of those my feelings are hurt girls. Well, Im not. Then why no fast food? She was still looking at him and Jordan figured that was the best way to read the book, when it was open. But Miss Jillian seemed to be written in a foreign lan guage, one he only understood random phrases of. Her words were slow and methodical. Because I want to have time to pack. And because you got lost the last time the directions were three miles then turn right. I just dont have time. Before she e ven finished the sentence, her purse was over her shoulder and she was heading out the door, See you at the airport. He was still looking confused when he heard her footsteps change directions and saw her head reappear in the open doorway. Should I pi ck you up? Again she read his expression before he got his words together. Well both get there, and only one parking charge. I can drive. She nodded. So can I. And I know my way around. If you want to contribute you can pay the parking fees. Theyre reimbursed. So that wasnt much of a contribution at all. I know. I just hate expense reports. She disappeared beyond the opening and this time didnt come back even as he muttered to himself. And here I thought you loved paperwork. 13 In a few minutes he had cleared his thoughts and headed home. It took him a while to locate things from the boxes. Jordan had lived here all of one half a day longer than he had been working at the CDCP, and it showed. He found his only two suits o ne still in the dry cleaning bag. Scrounged up socks, without holes. Underwear, also without holes. Then went in search of his hanging bag. This, of course, was pristine. It had been used once, for his interview here. He pushed that thought aside an d turned back to his packing. There was no way of knowing how long they would be there. He had to plan for the possibility of a full week, so he stuffed all the spare pockets and pouches with extra clothes and, in a glimpse of reason, all seven of the ti es he owned. After staring at the bag and waiting for it to tell him what else to pack, he finally realized that it would say no such thing, and so he threw in a few pairs of khakis for good measure. The last step was to change himself. Jeans, tee, a swe atshirt, and an old pair of sneakers seemed the best bet for flying. Theyd go see the little girl after they got settled in a bit, right? He decided to believe what he wanted and pulled the sweatshirt over his head, just as his stomach grumbled and the doorbell made the horrid high pitched noise that the manager had called a chime. Coming! Jordan crossed the short distance from the very back to the very front of the apartment and pulled the door open. Hi. Hey! Jillian walked through the open doo rway and past his open mouth. I think you actually have a bigger place than me. You ready? Yes. Getting his bags took less than half a minute; his thoughts would take a little longer to gather. What was up with Jillian? She looked all of nineteen in her jeans and small white t shirt, what with her dark hair pulled back in that ponytail. If she was in the airplane seat next to him, people would think he was a dirty older man. But none of it even registered in her expression as he grabbed his lugga ge and trailed her down the stairs and out to the eerily quiet street. She simply popped the trunk of her little white car open and let him throw his bag on top of the two she had stacked back there. What is this? Rav Four. She slid in behind the w heel, no longer Miss Jillian of the CDCP, but a complete stranger. It has its quirks, but its reliable and, one day, when I get a dog, shell go in the back. She laughed most of the way to airport, navigating into long term parking with ease. Her matc hing carryon was slung over her shoulder and she wheeled her hanger bag behind her, never fussing at the long wait at security. And when the plane took off from the runway at Atlanta International she was already asleep in the seat beside him. B ecky sat knee deep in shallow, muddy stream water, her long bangs falling into her eyes. Melanie wasnt listening to her, Brandon had wandered off somewhere, and her mother was going to be mad. She was wet, a little on the cold side, and she was the only one wh o hadnt caught anything yet. She raised a hand to push her hair out of her face, not remembering until she felt the cold that her hand had just been in stream water that was clear. Oh well, the muck would help plaster her hair out of her eyes. For a moment she gathered her breath, then she yelled, Brandon! Moms gonna be angry if you dont stay with me. Get back here! But Becky didnt wait for him to show up. He would, 14 and so she turned back to searching the running water for the small frogs she wanted. One jumped in front of her container and with a quick movement she completely missed it. With a deep sigh she lifted her head up, and let out another long yell. Brandon! Im , Becky. He shook his head as he looked down on her, holding the bottom of his shirt in front of him making a scoop in which he piled all the containers he had filled with one frog each. Just like she had asked. And to think biology had seemed like such a great field to go into. She had her doctora te, and yet her little brother and sister put her to shame at obtaining specimens. The only consolation she had was that Brandon and Melanie had also seriously shown up every other biologist and assistant she had brought out for the job. Becky, look. Yeah, you did great. No, He scooted closer. She knew that he would have grabbed her arm. He had tried, but his lightning reflexes had him straightening the tumbling containers before they got too far. Pick up that top one, hes the biggest. Wi th a smile of pride on her face, she held the clear Tupper up over her head and let the light shine through on a good size rana. One of the larger ones caught here, but certainly not the largest. He is pretty big. You holding out for more money? Beck y! I thought you were smart. at him! Hes got four legs, you retard! Melanie also looked up at the underside of the container, although what she could see from about three feet away was anyones guess. Frogs all have four legs, retard. Becky shifted to give both of them dirty looks about the name calling, but left it at that, knowing full well she couldnt win. Brandon rolled his eyes with all the meaning a ten year old could muster. Four legs. Huh? Becky held the Tupper aloft again , this time higher to catch rays from a break in the tree cover. Frowning, she looked him over, and she didnt see it until he jumped: four hind legs, two per side, coming out of the hip flexor joint. Holy crap! She shook the plastic container a bit. Y up, all functional. Okay, Ill give you two bucks for him. Brandon still clutched the edge of his shirt holding the ten containers stacked precariously in there, but his expression said that he wasnt moved by the two dollar offer. Theyre all that wa y. What? She reached down and pulled another container from his clutch. Holding it high she gave it a slight wiggle and watched the small frog try to rebalance itself. Four hind legs. All functional. She quickly set it down and grabbed for two more. Both had a second pair of jumper legs. In under a minute her breathing had sped up and she had ascertained that Brandon was correct. But that would be wrong. Very wrong. With her brows pulled together, she went over to check the row of tuppers that th e kids had caught here. It had been hard to see those spare legs at first. Maybe they just hadnt noticed. But her little sister was a sharp one, and shed already checked the locals out. Theyre all normal. So, Brandon, there were . . . she cou nted, eight six legged frogs where you were? And you caught them all? He was a good catcher. Once he spotted it the frog didnt stand a chance. No, they were all like that. At least I think they all were. Almost. There are more. I just ran out of lexans. Where!? 15 Brandon took off with Becky right behind him, Melanie would catch up, she knew. The trail was well worn and well known from her own childhood days, and they bounded down it, anticipating every fallen tree and protruding rock. She ju st kept running after Brandon, never having heard of anyone finding a full clutch of six legged frogs before. A tree branch, that Brandon had held out for himself, came slapping back at her, but even without her conscious thought, her hand was there to ca tch it. Six legs occurred in nature, and didnt kill the frog most of the time. Usually they were slow and so predators got them. But it was a mutation, not a genetic one. It also usually resulted in just one spare leg, a five legged frog. The se had . So how would you get a whole clutch of them? Unless something was wrong with the site . . . There was a nuclear reactor program a little west of here: Oak Ridge, where they had built the A bomb. There were always stories of Melton La ke Dam being shut down for mercury levels being too high. But this? They had run a long way before Brandon finally stopped. He pointed to a section of the stream. There was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary to the human eye. Even the trained hu man eye. I caught them all here. Becky slowly walked to the stream edge then kept going right in, her shoes were already caked in mud and silt and of absolutely no concern to her. So would you say about a third of them were that way? Maybe a tenth? Brandon shook his head, No, Im telling you they are. Slowly she squatted down, getting a good focus through the running water. There were frogs here, lots of them, but with the movement and the refraction, those back legs were hard to distinguish. Hell, theyd been hard to spot at first in the lexans. Becky swore at herself a little more, then went back to peering through the water. But it wasnt helping. She needed to see these guys up close. Lo oking back at Brandon she asked the sixty four thousand dollar question, Do you think you could catch one bare handed? Small deep breaths came from just behind her, Melanie had caught up to them. You . . . . dont . . . . . . have . . . . . to. Becky turned to find her baby sister, leaned over, huffing for oxygen, but in Melanies outstretched hand was a tall stack of tuppers, with all the lids shoved down in the top one. Becky shrieked. You are a genius! I . . . . know. Job done, Melanie sat back to watch Brandon get frogs and Becky try. Becky held each new catch aloft, the fifth came up with normal legs, prompting a question. Brandon, how many normal frogs did you throw back? Two. He nodded. The sun was setting by the t ime Melanie arrived from her return trip to get the wheel barrow. As Becky had ordered, each of the frogs from the other site bore a scrap of masking tape across the lid. And all the lids bore a single digit the number of legs on the contained frog. T here were so many 6s that Becky had to look again. Each time she thought the numbers must be off. But they werent. She stacked the five four legged frogs from this site in one spot, thinking they would be as useful as all the sixes. Why hadnt they c hanged, too? And how did their numbers get to be only one out of ten? 16 Becky was frantically writing on the scratch pad she had brought along in case any question popped into her mind. She was beginning to think that today the fifty sheets the pad claim ed to have werent going to be enough. She just couldnt detect anything out of the ordinary. It was your standard East Tennessee summer day by all measurable counts. So what was up with the frogs? Eventually she had to give up. She had no barometer, no litmus paper, and no Geiger counter, so there wasnt much more she could measure, even if she wanted to. The Geiger counter gave her pause. What if there was some sort of radiation leak? If the government had buried some sort of waste here? Wasnt i t possible? There were always news stories about plutonium being flown in and out of the labs. Could it have gotten here? And had she exposed her brother and sister to it, for . . . she checked her watch . . . four hours? God, her lack of protocol had been horrible. 17 Chapter 2 Chapter 2 J illian closed the door behind her. No longer Miss Jillian in his mind. My God, she was a little chameleon. In the airport she had looked like a kid, ponytail and all. And less than fifteen minutes after they had arrived s he knocked on his hotel door, business professional from head to toe. In a deep teal suit that looked like it had been cut just for her and brought out her eyes. He hadnt realized there was so much green in them. She had, of course, immediately told hi m to quit staring, that yes, she did in fact own several suits and he needed to get it together. Jordan had never had a woman beat him at getting ready before. And certainly not look so good doing it. She had thrown her lab coat over her arm then peel ed off her jacket just like he had in the stifling Florida humidity. He had sweated buckets just on the drive over. She had looked cool, Im from the south, remember? All he could do was swear to slap anyone from LA who ever bitched about the humidit y again. And ask Gods forgiveness for all the times he had done it himself. He pulled his jacket back on to cover his sweat stains as they entered the hospital flashing their CDCP credentials. Jillian clearly actually owned some of the adult faculties he was pretending to. Everyone spoke to Jillian, wanted her opinion first. She was smart, confident, and on top of it. A million miles from the woman who would pour over paperwork, pulled her hair back in a barrette, and had that weird flat sense of hum or. It almost pissed him off. It also lent a lot of credence to his new hypothesis that he wasnt the brilliant theorist. And if that were the case, why was he here? Hed made his own diagnosis. But Jillian had given the same one, and they had all aske d her first. She followed him out of the little girls room to confer in the hallway. What did you think? He shrugged out of his lab coat. Same as you. It makes sense, doesnt it? West Nile with anaphylactic shock caused by the spider bite. S o were here for another two days at least. Why? She looked perplexed and he had the feeling he was about to be shown up again. It didnt sit well. Because you cant tell West Nile from Yellow Fever or Dengue Fever without a viral analysis or waiting out the symptoms. By his count, two days was the least amount of time they might need to see the distinction. He waited for her to tell him all about the new reasons he was wrong. But she didnt. Whats the difference? You dont know? He was shoc ked. She shook her head, her expression suddenly clearly belonging to the girl who had inhabited the other side of the desk from him. It just pissed him off. I hate you, you know. You walk in there, all confidence and knowing all the answers then only confess out here that you dont. Her head tilted, and she smiled, No one wants to believe that it isnt an exact science. And that family has had doctors telling them that they have no idea what it was and that they called in the experts. Thats us, St arsky. He sunk into one of the doctors lounge chairs. It was unfamiliar, but so much like every other hospitals lounges. The way Im feeling I think we should go by Bonnie and Clyde. 18 She laughed, lightening the load on his shoulders. Nah, Bonnie a nd Clyde actually knew what they were doing. Y es, Mom Im home. Jillian had the phone wedged between her shoulder and ear while she folded her clothes. How are you feeling? Like crap, Mom. I just walked in the door twenty minutes ago. And, we ll trained girl that she was, she was already putting her clothing away. And calling her Mother. So now youve been with this job, like, a week? And you havent had a day off, what are these people doing to you? Jillian heard the slight intake of bre ath and she knew what was coming. I just dont see why you couldnt have gone into private p ractice. . . why you didnt Mom. The sigh behind her own voice was deeper and well worn. I never deluded you about wanting a private practice. I never i ntended to come back to Signal Mountain and check ears and throats for a living. I dont have the touch for that. Nor the desire. Nor was her mother getting the everyday prestige from having her little girl go off to Emory for medicine and come back to help serve the community. But her mothers high hopes had been just that. And they belonged entirely to her mother. So, as far as Jillian was concerned, her mother could figure out what to do with them. So you enjoy traveling all over the place wit h no days off? Mom, I have days off. Then, just to be a little facetious she added, You know, saving the world doesnt happen on a nine to five schedule. That managed to shut her up for all of the three seconds it took her to shift gears. So are you meeting any nice doctors? Her shoulders ached. Slowly rolling the one that wasnt cramped up under the phone, she gave the same answer she had been giving for two years, since the end of her last major relationship. No, mom, theyre all assholes. There it was, the expected intake of breath, but she spoke again before her mother could criticize her language. But I did meet a really nice janitor, and he wants to take me out on Thursday Oh Mom! Thats the other line! Maybe its him. Ill call you next week! I love you! She barely waited for the resulting I love you, too. Before hanging up the phone and tossing it on the dresser. God hang her for using her mothers prejudices against her, but . . . she just couldnt put up with it any mo re. The bed beckoned. She was tired of being good, tired of putting her clothes away, tired of explaining her life choices to her family. In Chattanooga, smart girls married men with money. Even in this day and age. She knew three girls who attended one semester of freshmen year, just to say they did it, before they went off and married their much older boyfriends. Jillian had wanted her own career, and her own life, and apparently you couldnt have both. She flopped back onto the comforter tomor row she had to go into the office and they had to write a report on the spider bite, and then there were four glorious days off until Monday again. She had been in the apartment for all of two and a half weeks, and since starting her job she estimated t hat she had been here maybe twenty four hours total, including sleep time. Shaking her head, Jillian decided to pass out. After half an hour of staring at the ceiling while her thoughts ran rampant with her, she finally accomplished her goal. T his is silly, Rebecca. , Dr. Warden had downshifted to patronizing. As her boss, his only real function seemed to be the monitoring of anything he deemed to be under his control which included employees, discoveries, and even paperclips. Becky just knew she wouldnt last three minutes without actually hitting him. 19 Taking one deep solid breath, she nodded. All right. I understand. My resignation will be on your desk in fifteen minutes. Rebecca, where would you go? You cant just resign. She faked a startled look. My parents live down the street. And Im sitting on a huge discovery that will pay off in a little while. Ill be fine, but thank you for worrying about me. Turning, she began to walk out of the office. His voice caught up to her quickly. Thats my paper. Those frogs are university property. But she was done. She squared up to face him, as he towered over her tall frame, making her feel small, but she knew she was in the right. No, its not your paper. He started to talk but she held up her hand. Just because three of those frogs are sitting in my office, doesnt make them university property. I would point out that my purse also sits in my office. Most of those frogs are still at my home. Sitting under a lamp I bought. They were caught in Tuppers that I purchased with my own money, I have a receipt. She grinned, then continued, even as she talked this was getting better. They were caught by my siblings, on land owned by my parents, and since you havent a nted up a penny for them yet, Id say you would be pretty hard pressed to prove that I dont own He interrupted, as she knew he would. In your contract with the university it says that all related discoveries She laughed; God, her day was getting b etter. She had come for a reward for her brother and sister, and when hed childishly refused, shed upped the stakes. And now she was going to walk out with a paper. Doctor Warden, contract might stipulate that, but mine doesnt. I crossed those lines out, on the advice of my brother. Harvard Law, ninety eight. Warden paled, and it was all she could do not to dance a little jig right there in the second floor J hall of the Reynolds building. She forced a smile and continued. You can sign re ward checks for my brother and sister, and my paper will have your name on it. Or Ill go draft my resignation, effective immediately, and you can explain to the higher ups why this doesnt say University of Tennessee all over it. He didnt say anythi ng. Just turned and went back to his office. Becky tried to keep her voice light. Ill be back for those checks in an hour. But He didnt finish and she just smiled. It was down the corridor, around a corner and through another lab that her o ffice sat. Definitively out of the way. She went in and started writing up the findings, but after starting with the date, time, and location she realized that she couldnt do anything. Not Not until Warden put it in writing that the paper be longed to her and anyone else who she chose to have on it. If she used university equipment or wrote up anything, the frogs and the paper could legally become property of the UT Biodiversity office. And, since finding new and unusual species and behavior was what the Biodiversity team did, she would be hard pressed to prove it was a personal project. So, for the moment at least, her hands were tied. The ranas stared at her from their Tuppers lined up on her shelf. Three of them. All in a row, all look ing right at her, their little throats bobbing as though with their breathing. One big, one little, one medium. There was nothing extraordinary about any of the three, other than the obvious extra legs. Becky was suddenly extremely grateful to Aaron. That he had chosen law school and in his own arrogant way had decided that no man was complete without some knowledge of the law. He 20 said shed be grateful when she was in her first car accident or bought her first house. Neither of those things had hap pened yet. But she sent up a silent as she sat there. She was also grateful for her own error, remembering how frustrated she had been, making an extra trip to the restaurant supply store for the lexans she had forgotten to bring home with her. It was all lining up. If she jumped ship she wouldnt regret it. And if she got fired. . . well, she really still wouldnt. She filled her time reading emails, and doodling, and finally gathered the lexans into her arms. The water sloshed as she wal ked, the frogs trying to stay motionless out of fear, but constantly having to squirm to correct their balance. Warden looked up as she entered. Youre leaving? Yes. I have your checks. But he didnt hand them over. If she was fired, it woul d be worth it just to spend this minute watching the prick squirm. Do you have your resignation? He eyed her, and leaned forward but didnt ask again. No. Not if I get my checks now and tomorrow morning I have it in writing that the paper is mine and mine alone. She took the checks and balanced the frogs in one arm while reaching into her pocket to pull out a sticky note. Heres my home phone number so you can call me and tell me when its ready. Already knowing he wouldnt take it, she stuc k it on the nearest bookshelf. Against the ropes, he nodded, swallowed a bit, then reached out. Mind if I take a look? Just before his mealy hand closed on one of the Tuppers she turned away. Yes, I do. These are still my frogs. It was two city blocks to the parking garage then up two floors, and all the way to the back. And this was privileged parking. She was only allowed here as an employee. Students had to park even further away. Her jacket was cloying and constricting, but she wouldnt set down the frogs. They were her future right now. And something was very wrong with them. Her folks home was a ways out in the county, it was the only way they could have all that land. It just wasnt as far out as it had been when she was small. S everal of the neighbors had parceled large properties and housing developments now stood where nearby farms and fields had been. She followed the local school bus the last few turns to her home and met Melanie and Brandon as they leapt down to the gravel roadside. No one believes we caught six legged frogs! The wail was that of a plaintive seven year old who was about an inch from a seriously good pout. But that telling everyone part made her nervous. Becky scooped up her little sister and asked Bra ndon to grab the Tuppers out of the front seat. Lets not tell people just yet. Theyll believe you when they see your picture in the paper, even if it doesnt happen for a while. Melanie consented, and after a slow evening her father showed up and he r mother took advantage of adult company, pouring them three glasses of wine from the box in the fridge, if it could be called pouring. But it wasnt bad, and partway through nursing her drink and contemplating how she had destroyed her future and was n ow the proud owner of forty three frogs she couldnt investigate any further than a good once over, Brandon called up from the basement. Becky, your frogs are all staring at me! Theyre weird! Her mother yelled back, but didnt move an iota. Of cour se they are, theyve got six legs for chrissakes! 21 Becky, can we rotate them?! Melanie wanted to torment the frogs, and Becky wished she hadnt started those early biology lessons with her little sister. The girl was too bright it would be great if she forgot something just once in a while. No! But its fun! In a low voice she spoke only to the table. Cant argue that. The frogs had a lot of built in responses. When put on their back they would flip upright and get ready to jump. If you rotated the ground beneath them, they would turn to stay oriented to the original direction. And it was all reflex. The frogs would do this in the lab even if they were decapitated. Of course that response only lasted a few seconds before the dead f rogs would jello out and lose all muscle tone. But it was enough to make the squeamish lab students jump and scream, and the more sturdy hearted spend good lab time just rotating the dissection trays watching the beheaded frogs reorient one way then the other. In a few live frogs the responses could entertain a couple of elementary school kids for hours. For the frogs sakes, Becky regretted showing it to her little siblings. It was quiet for a few minutes. Well, maybe more than a few minutes, her wi ne glass was empty. They all turned at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Brandon and Melanie emerged on the landing, arms full of little clear lexans. Becky, they keep orienting themselves. Melanie put one Tupper on the table with a small . Look. She turned the Tupper and sure enough the little rana moved his front legs hand over hand and shuffled his back feet as the container moved, constantly keeping his nose pointed in the original direction. Melanie, I told you not to rotate th em. Looking to her parents for backing, Becky sighed. Before her folks could put in their two cents, Melanie continued with her mini lecture on the orienting process of frogs. She picked up the lexan and softly but quickly shifted it onto its side, lea ving the inhabitant on his back. She put it on the table again, and up the little guy went, onto all six legs, squat and ready. Thats exactly what theyre supposed to do. So stop tormenting my frogs. And to think she had spent this morning arguing f or bonuses for the little Dr. Moreaus. Melanie ignored her. Now the four legger. She scooted over the container marked with the normal masking tape from its spot at the end of the table. Now center stage, the little rana performed, hand over hand, back legs shuffling, while Melanie rotated the container. Then she flipped him onto his back and set the Tupper upright in line with the three six leggers. And Becky saw it. What Melanie and Brandon had seen. She barely paid attention to the little guy as he flipped himself up off his back and into ready stance. It wasnt what he did. It was what he do. The difference was obvious. This time Becky grabbed one of the downstream frogs, flipping her softly onto her back, and as the little ran a struggled briefly then expertly flipped herself upright, even Mr. and Mrs. Sorenson were getting onto their feet. Her Dad spoke first. Are they supposed to do that? No, Dad, this is definitely new. When the four legger hopped up, he faced which ever direction was easiest. No matter what she did, each time the six leggers came to a stop, they faced the same way they had previously. All three of them, always the same direction, all the time. 22 Without speaking, each family member grabbed one lexa n, and separated them to different rooms, hollering out. Same way! Toward the bed! Facing the sink. It didnt matter though. All the phrases meant the same thing. She left the Tuppers on the floor while scrambling down the stairs, her family c lose on her heels. With breath held tight, Becky flipped the light switch. All the little six leggers were staring straight at her. Oriented the same direction as the ones upstairs. Her voice was weaker than she meant it to be. What direction are the y facing, Daddy? Northwest, looks like. G reer walked into the lab like he owned the place. Which was silly, David thought, because did. Hey, pretty boy, whats up with your stones? Tell me something interesting, because Im footing a helluva b ill for that shut down day. Its good. It was better thon good, but David went back to perusing his pieces. He didnt even bother to correct Greer about the stones. It was just said to annoy him anyway. Dude, youve got to give me more than th at. David didnt even look up. And that was the wonder of Greer. He always meant what he said just as he said it. You never needed to see his face. All right, you are on par with Hell Creek. Yup, he didnt need to see Greers eyes to know that the sarcasm flowed in rivers. Now how about something I can use? His friend prodded. I want information that Ill find worthy of shutting down my dig for a full day, and I want it in complete sentences. He looked up, gauging what to gi ve away and what to keep. Well, youve got the iridium layer at the KT boundary, just like you were hoping. Only here, its better than Hell Creek because youve got a rapid lay down. Which gives you as close to full on proof as youll ever get that th e dust cover directly coincides with the dino die out. Its real thick at the KT, tapering off over the next several hundred years. No glass or ash content that the lab can discern You just said the lab, that means you didnt do my analysis yoursel f. . . David took a steadying breath. Well, I couldnt get it done in the time frame you wanted. The lab here did it and I oversaw it. Its good work. Greer nodded slowly. Our agreement was that do the testing, but you f armed it out. So tell me what was so hellfire important that you shut down my dig and then blew me off for it? This time David looked up. You dont tell anyone. Fine, but you tell me. Making his way into his office, he closed the doors behind Gre er. Your dig is a hotspot. A magnetic jump point. Greer raised his eyebrows, Do go on. Every so often, a long time, even by geological standards, the earths poles shift . . . swap places. It happens that certain spots shift first, then the theor y is that when a critical mass of hotspots, or altered areas, is hit, the poles snap. Bam! And its all over. North is south, south is north and all that, magnetically speaking. But no ones seen a magnetic hotspot on the KT before. It might explain th e slight discrepancies in die out times better than the asteroid theory alone. 23 And you werent going to share your with me? Greer leaned forward on the desk, eyes blazing, and David wasnt quite sure how to fill in the empty logic hole he had left. He was going to share, just not now. Listen, Greer, Im still not positive. These rocks are good for it, but I need to get more. You know, most geologists never see a hotspot like this. My Dad was one of the few who did. I always look for it Jeez, Carter, that chip on your shoulder mustve been what stunted your growth. Thanks, fuckhole. Greer smiled, Youre welcome. It would have sounded very genuine if not taken in the context of following the word What are you going to do when the old man kicks off? He shrugged; it had been a question that plagued him for many years. Same as Ive been doing. Sit around, live off my Dads money and his name. Dude, Im going to let you in on something, because I think Im the only person who likes you enough to tell you. Greer shook his head, but David knew that last part was true. You are the only one who thinks youre getting by on your Dads name. Yes, but you dont have all the facts. My Dad bought my way into Princeton when my grades werent good enough. Oh, so sad, and boo hoo, and suck me. Youve proven your worth on your own since then. Greer sighed, and that meant that the conversation was finished. So when are you going to get positive about this t heory and let me in on it? I have to go to the Appalachians next. Pray tell, why? Because, I was scrounging old files, looking, and three years ago there was a KT dig there. Wharton took his top dogs and then got furious when they got back becaus e the specimens were all mislabeled. He even dismissed three of his graduate students over it. But, Im guessing now that it might have been another hotspot. And that, my friend would make a great paper. Who are you taking on this secret dig? Greer s arms were crossed over his chest. I dont know. I only just started thinking about going back to check it out this morning. Those are the specimens I was looking over out there. By the way, they have the same iridium strata as your Warren Fault pie ces. Hey, do you want to go to Tennessee with me? There were three slow blinks of his eyes. Im a black man. Why in the hell would I want to go to Tennessee? Greer, this is the new millennium. No ones going to make you jump down, turn around an d pick a bale of cotton. Im pretty sure theyve gotten rid of that separate but equal stuff, too. This time the eyes blinked once. David smiled, What you really have to be afraid of are the cabbages. I need to fear leafy greens now? David sh ook his head. Its the name for the inbred, backwoods folks. They were called cabbages because the inbreeding led to large heads and equivalent mental capabilities. The more he tried to convince Greer to come the more he realized that Greer was ideal for the spot. Come on. They found bones. . . He trailed off, using something Greer would enjoy as bait. But Greer sighed. He was a smart fish, and he recognized that the worm had a hook jabbed in its back. Havent your paleo guys checked it out ye t? 24 Nope, there are just bits and pieces, and because they thought all the specimens were mislabeled, when they got back Wharton was furious and just threw everything into storage, calling the dig a complete waste. What kind of bones are they? That question began to make David hopeful. I dont know, Im not a paleontologist. But youre welcome to look them over, theyre sitting right out there on the lab table. He stood and opened the door letting Greer out into the main lab again. They didnt speak. Working side by side, shuffling around the lab, getting a book or a test kit here or there. After a deep intake of breath Greer uttered the first words in two hours. Damn, this could be crap or it could be a goldmine. Carter just nodded. Hed had the exact same thought. All right, answer me honestly. Greer squared up to David, a good nine inches taller and with all the dignity David felt lacking in his own moral fiber. Is there a chance that these are just mislabeled specimens? That the students didnt know what they were doing and none of this info is correct? David nodded. I wasnt on the dig. I didnt know any of the students other than a few faces I saw in class as undergrads. Id have to say that theres a possibility its not even KT. But it appears that the specimens are mislabeled. I have to go check it out. Greer nodded slowly then pulled out his palm pilot. How long do we need? Two to four weeks. No telling til we get there. Carter went back into the lab f or his own schedule, cool as cucumber, but inside wildly excited that it was Greer going with him. No one knew his shit like Greer. The major work is already done. But the sites three years old. Itll take some reworking and we wont have any student s. David looked for a reasonable chunk of time when he could go. Most of these digs were planned months in advance. If we just need to confirm what we have, itll be short, but if we find new pieces, well be longer, you know how it is. When? A.S.A.P. Then I have to head home now. Explain all this to my ever so understanding wife. Find a way to make it up to her. Then I can leave two Mondays from now. His head was bent low over the palm pilot and he tapped at it rapidly with the little stylus. But I have to be back at my place one month later. David picked up his red marker and drew a line through the dates Greer mentioned, noting that he had drawn through two staff meetings and a dinner with the head of the department, and all sorts of other stuff that would have to be moved. Looks great. Are you expecting U Wisconsin to kick in funding? David shook his head. This is a private venture. Its the only way I know to not have to write a paper explaining my suspicions and then w ait an eon while they decide to give it back to Wharton who fucked it up in the first place. Daddy? It didnt sound as snotty as it could have. It was from Greer and there was no malice behind it. But David shook his head again. Nope. He took a d eep breath. Im touching my trust fund for this one. Really? Greers eyebrows rose. Then Ill fly in baggage and try not to eat. 25 Nah, were going nice all the way. Once I touch it, its touched. Its about the principle, not the amount. But this will be worth it. J ordan let the water sluice down over him. He had been right, which usually made him pretty happy. Except when his prediction had been a solid ass whupping. When he had gotten to town, even before he had unpacked, he had driven in ever widening circles from his new place, looking for a gym. The first evening after joining, hed met Martin. So they had signed up for racquetball together, and every Wednesday, except when hed been in Florida, they had played. Jordan had come cl ose quite a few times, but he had beaten Martin only once. The workout was good and the challenge and standing date was better. If he was ever going to be in good shape and have a healthy sex life it would be now. He had avoided relationships through me d school, focusing on his studies and what few one night stands he could manage. It worked well and didnt distract much, but didnt keep the johnson as happy as hed have liked. He cranked the water hotter, something he hadnt done before receiving h is gas bill just yesterday. He could afford it. And today he had earned it. God, he ached. So he stood there, hands flat on the slick tile, one leg straight, the other bent in calf stretches. After a few seconds he switched legs. His mind wandered to Jillian in her tub, surrounded by white bubbles. Hed seen her place. Her tub probably had the same yellowing tiles with cracked caulking that his did. But in his imagination it was a pristine white claw foot. It got bigger. Room for two. He added Marla from UCLA. One of the other med students. Two years older than him and hotter than hell. She hadnt had time for any of them, as she was hell bent on a surgeon out of residency and with his loans already paid off. But she was in his tub right no w in his head. With Jillian nonetheless. By the time the shower water turned colder, the tub was a hot tub. And included his high school crush, but with bigger boobs, Angelina Jolie, and Marcy the tech from earlier today. All kissing each other. And . . . Shit. He had to face two of these women tomorrow. The water was cold and he thought that the phone was ringing anyway. So he cranked the faucet off and grabbed for one of the two towels he owned. Wrapping it around him as he ran, he dove to catch the phone before the machine picked up. He didnt get to look at the caller ID even, Hello? Jordan. It was his Dad. And that in itself was odd. They werent estranged, just not close. If it wasnt a holiday, they didnt talk. So instantly he wa s alert for problems. Hey, Dad, is something going on? Yeah, It was a sigh, low and long, like when his dad talked about Mom. Eddie died. Oh, no. The weight in his chest took him by surprise. He and Eddie had rarely seen each other since they were children, and Eddie had always seemed ill at ease after Jordan had gone off to pursue medicine and Eddie had left high school early to go into construction. In the ten years since 26 hed been out, Eddie had made a name in Lake James, built himself a n ice house, married a cute girl and had a daughter. Then got leukemia. I thought he was in remission. Well, they thought he was better, that he was going to make it. He put the weight back on. Grew some hair, was fine. . . we thought. Jordan wr acked his brains. He couldnt talk medicine with his Dad, but he had with Eddie. They had finally seemed to be on more even footing, and Eddie now spoke some med lingo from his time in the slammer, as he referred to the hospital. He had seemed fine at the family Fourth of July picnic, only a few months ago. So, do you know what happened? Dont think anyone really does. He got some stomach flu. Next thing you know hes in a coma and then this morning he died. That didnt sound like anything Jor dan had ever heard of. He wanted to drill his Dad. Get answers. Because that sure didnt make a shitlick of sense. Funerals Friday. You should be here. I will, Ill be there sometime tomorrow. Ill call and let you know when I get in. And th at was the end of the conversation. He stood with the cordless phone loose in his hand, shoulders slumped, one hand running down his wet face. In a few moments he was on the line with Jillian, briefly wondering if she was also wrapped in a towel, both ered mid bubble bath by his call. But the thought was momentary at most. Her sympathies were heartfelt and he was told in no uncertain terms to leave for the funeral right away, shed be fine inspecting the latest staph infection by herself. She even of fered to drive him to the airport. He almost told her no, then thought better of it. Between low level pay, student loans, and now a last minute plane ticket, he could use the savings from not parking. Next he called Landerly and left a message. Then hopped online, and even called the airline, getting all the requirements for the grievance discount. Thank god for credit cards. Lord knew, none of it was in his account right now. B ecky protested. Youre trying to distract me from my frogs. She sounded like a petulant teenager and she knew it. But that was the politics of the professional academic world. Gain your footing and hold on for all youre worth. Rebecca, what, really, have you found out about those frogs? Nothing unusual Exa ctly. So I dont understand why you are so determined to miss out on this great opportunity. Warden sat back in his chair. If he was the villain in a film, he would look just like this. Only creepy music would be playing in full digital surround sound . She hadnt told any of them about the directionality of the frogs. Probably because she couldnt explain it. And she didnt want anyone else explaining it before she found a suitable solution. Not that she had found even an unsuitable solution in t he last week. Her mouth opened, but there wasnt anything to come out. She closed it again. Biodiversity was her job. She traveled all the time to collect and study animals. She would pack all her frogs home first. They would be in better hands with Brandon and Melanie, even if they would be slightly tormented. All right. Where are these birds, and why do I need to see them? I knew you would realize that this is the right thing, Rebecca. 27 was the first thought that entered her head. He called her by her birth name, Rebecca. Which she thought sounded far too mature for herself, yet he treated her like a child. An idiot child at that. The second thought that went through her head was, It seems theres a flock of warblers in Dalton, Georgia. She waited the briefest of moments. This is an odd time of year for them. Did they just never leave? They should be in Canada. They did leave. But the local birdwatchers say theyre back, theyr e nesting. Nesting? This was maybe as interesting as the frogs. All right. Im hooked. What do I do? When can you go? His fingers still steepled in front of him. His hair was still on the greasy side and she still trusted him about as far as she could throw him. Tomorrow. Youll drive down, make a preliminary assessment and let us know if we need to assemble an ornithology team, or if theres a fluke or an obvious issue. He handed her a three by five lined card. The cheapest paper for making small notes on, by his own statements. Call this man at this number when you get in; hell be more than happy to show you the birds and their newly chosen habitat. Warden dismissed her with a disdainful wave of his hand, and gave her his ba ck even before she could have possibly started out the door. But that was okay, his front wasnt his best side. 28 Chapter 3 Chapter 3 J ordan looked around the living room. It was cozy and warm, and the deep toned plaid couch screamed everything but Eddie to him. Kelly must have done all the decorating. The room was a definite step up from his own place. One, that it was in a house, on a lot with a yard and a swing set even. Two, the carpet was lacking in the stains his had come with. Three, the kitchen was fully functional. Hed never been here before. After all the time he and Eddie had spent blowing things up together as kids, somehow he had never seen the house his cousin had built with his own hands and his own construction crew. It seemed a shame to see it only now that Eddie was getting buried. Kelly sat on the couch, taking all of it much better than Jordan had expected. So when Aunt Agnes left her alone, he tried to casually saunter over with his soda in hand and position himself next to Kell y. How are you holding up? It was her voice asking him that question before he could ask it of her. Im all in one piece. And before he could ask anything, she started in. Eddie was always telling me stories about the two of you and the M eight ies, or the illegal fireworks. Were they true? Could he have really walked into your medical school and convinced them that you had a sordid past and shouldnt have been admitted? Jordan laughed. He hadnt expected laughter and not from Eddies widow. Yes, its all true. And Jordan tried to use his opening. He had to know. What happened? I thought he was in remission. He just caught this stomach flu. It got worse and worse. The E.R. and his regular doctor told us that it would pass. Then he passed out, and by the time they admitted him he was in a coma. She took a sip of the gin and tonic that she was holding in both hands, unaware that it had sweated a ring onto her linen skirt. Jordan waited, seeing that she was just steeling herself for something important. Before . . . with the leukemia . . . he had made me promise to pull the plug. But I couldnt. I couldnt do it. I just knew hed come back around. But three days later he flatlined and there wasnt anything they could do. H e was gone. For a moment, her hand shook, rattling the small cubes of ice exposed above the level of liquid in her glass. But then it stilled. Kelly, I dont get it. That doesnt sound like Leukemia at all. And I never heard of a stomach flu that put anyone in a coma. How was his white count? He had leaned forward, elbows on knees, soda clenched in both hands. This time when she looked at him her eyes saw his face, but no further. Jordan, what are you doing? I just want to find out what happened. He reached for her arm, but she was already jerking it back out of his way, standing in one fluid motion, her hands raising. Why!? Her voice was as loud as it was high pitched. Why! What can you do? Hes gone. Just when I was getting c omfortable with the thought that I might get the forever I signed on for. In five days he went from healthy to dead. Jordan opened his mouth to apologize, but she didnt let him. 29 Can you bring him back? I know that hes dead. But stop asking me thes e goddamn questions. I dont know what his blood count was. I just want him back. She dropped the glass then. It fell in almost slow motion, and even as he was aware of everyone in the room staring at him like the leper he was, he reached for Kelly an d set her back on the couch to keeping her from falling. Im sorry. Im sorry. She was in tears now, full streaming tears, the fallen glass unnoticed. Even if everyone else hated him, Kelly didnt seem to. Although he would have understood. He shou ldnt have pushed her like that. With a great sigh Aunt Agnes picked up the glass, luckily still in one piece, and sent her husband, Bill, running for paper towels. Kelly stayed there, crying into his shoulder, while slowly, everyone around him went back to their business. He had forgotten the cardinal rule. That these were people. He could always remember that when it was strangers. But with his own family he pushed. And he shouldnt. And he had ruined it. As much as he regretted hurting Kelly , and pushing her past whatever safety barrier she had found, he more regretted that he wasnt going to get his information that he wanted. They were all still looking at him. Why had he done it? He could answer but they wouldnt like it. They were a ll blue collar by choice, and he had gone out and paid through the nose to educate himself, to do what he wanted. But he had learned a whole new language, and they didnt speak it. Jordan didnt fit. And hed upset one of the people who did. One at the center of the circle. He rode home with his Dad in silence. Anyone else would think his father carefully schooled and stoic in his lack of expression these past few days. But Jordan knew better. Dad simply hadnt had it in him since his Mom had died . He was in his old easy chair within moments, tonight. There was no reproach for Jordans behavior, as he might have gotten when his mother was alive. Even though he knew his Dad didnt approve, he didnt hear about it. Night, Dad. His father di dnt answer. Just a quick look in his direction and a nod let him know he had even been heard. Jordan lay on the bed, his hands laced behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. His thoughts turned to Jillian briefly, wondering if her day at Grady Hos pital had been horrifyingly long. But he realized that she had probably done just fine without him. A small smile played across his lips before it was erased by his medical mind. Eddie had died of the stomach flu and a coma. And none of it added up. If anyone here would know that something was off with Eddies death it was Jordan. But no one was listening. Kellys words haunted him. He couldnt bring Eddie back. He just wanted to understand. But there wasnt even an autopsy. Not for a man who had leukemia for five years. His lids slowly gained the weight of sleep, and within moments the glare of bright light. He blinked against the harsh sun through the windows he hadnt b othered to close, because he hadnt believed that sleep was coming. He was still in his slacks, his shirt, and his tie. All of it formerly pressed and Sunday best. He had the whole day to contemplate his horrible behavior from the evening before. The idea that God was punishing him for it began with the taste of old gym towels in his mouth. 30 With only a few blinks in a lazy attempt to clear his head, he pushed his way off the bed and into the bathroom. Relief surged at the flavor of mint replacing the gumminess of sleep. Jordan reached into the stall and flicked the shower on, the sense memory of where exactly to turn the dial remained even in this blurry state. Within a minute the water was a decent temperature, and he had yanked his tie loose a nd proceeded to strip. He almost fell back asleep standing there naked under the ancient showerhead. By the time Jordan was downstairs, his Dad stood at the stove, his one concession to real life cooking was the electric griddle that was perpetually on the counter top. The smell of Bisquick pancakes brought Jordan back to every other weekend he and his Dad had spent since his mother had died. He sat down with no conversation and ate until he was near bursting. Wondering all the while, as he always di d, if his father made the pancakes even on weekends when he wasnt home. Hed never had the heart to ask. Just as Jordan set down his fork, the phone rang. His father motioned with the spatula that Jordan was to answer it. In China, children cared for their parents unto old age. In Lake James, Jordan saved his Dad the social effort involved in answering the phone. Hello? Jordan? The voice was soft and sweet and he couldnt quite place it. Its me, Kelly. Oh, hi I wanted to apologize fo r my behavior yesterday. We all need to make sense of it in our own way. He could hear her breath across the line in the sharp inhale she needed before she continued. You need to know. I dont want to. I dont care what you find out. But I signed a release to the hospital, and told them you were with the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and that you needed them to cooperate. Kelly . . . No, Its okay. If it had been you, Eddie would have found the answers leveling a field with a cat erpillar and a backhoe. This is how you find yours. Im just sorry I wasnt more understanding yesterday. Kelly. He took a deep breath. Thank you, and Im sorry I upset you. I just . . . Its okay. Dont worry. Listen Kelly, I wanted to tell you that Eddie once told me that he was the luckiest guy alive to have you. Liar. No he did. He then told me what a pansyass I was with my nose in books all the time. He heard her sniff even as she laughed. Thank you. . . have a good flig ht home tonight Jordan. Great, he had made her cry. Yet, she had given him access to Eddies medical records. He wanted to jump up and down and cheer. He hated himself for it. But he had nine hours at the hospital until he had to leave for his flight . B ecky wasted little time unpacking her duffle bag and simply splashed some water on her face. The hotel was covered by the Amateur Birdwatchers; it was far nicer than anything Warden would have approved of her staying in. She pocketed her room card and slipped her purse over her shoulder. Making certain that her door locked behind her, she found her way back to the elevators and wondered what she was 31 getting herself into. She spotted Marshall Harfield easily, mainly because he was the only person actually sitting and waiting in the lobby. He had told her that he had dark hair and dark eyes, and that he would be wearing a blue ABA jacket. What he had neglected to tell her was that the dark hair was thinning and the ABA jacket was bright enough to scare away all kinds of wildlife and that it was struggling to stay closed around the wide girth of his belly. He neglected to tell her that he was nervous and that he would startle when she approached him. Wiping his hand on his pants he held it out while he greeted her. But she couldnt very well refuse to shake his hand. He led her out to his car, plastered with ABA and various other bird bumper stickers. Some even thought they were funny. As they left the parking lot, he began a stream of ner vous chatter. Becky, of course, listened with half her thoughts to Marshall, and the other half wondering what shed gotten herself into. Her heart leapt when he reached into the backseat, but all he produced was a series of marked volumes on the Georgia Spotted Warbler. Within moments, he had her flipping pages, finding out details and seeing that everyone who had ever printed anything about the Georgia Spotted Warbler agreed that they were only Georgian during the winter months. If it was true, then these birds were way out of sync. And Marshall Harfield had found his groove and a warm smile that he shared with anyone who could get excited over an unremarkable brown bird. Her whole attention was turned to him as he continued, and she didnt even no tice the drive. They were pulling up to a farmhouse outside Dalton and four people were standing in the middle of the front lawn, their bright blue ABA jackets giving them away. They all but pulled Becky from the car and smiled and shook her hand in turn as Marshall introduced around to the lot of them. They were polite enough to make it through introductions, then they were all speaking on top of each other. She posed the question to the group in general as she was getting the hang of understanding them. So last year the birds flew in the proper pattern, and they left last spring at the appropriate time . . . but now theyre here way too early. Yes. No. Not exactly. Becky decided to go with the kid, Weston, who had said not exactly. Explain please. This is the nesting ground for this flock, every year theyre here in Mrs. Chesterfields orchard. Well, last year they didnt arrive on time. And two weeks later we found them while we were out looking for spotted wo odpeckers over at the Dalton Arboretum. They were there, the warblers, and they were nesting. So we thought that was weird Beckys brows knit with questions. How do you know its the same flock? Anne, the older woman, spoke up this time. Ive be en watching this flock for years. The birds come and go, but theres a consistency. Youll see the same birds for quite a few years. We named the ones we can positively I.D. Theres Marsha, Jan, Cindy, Greg, Bobby, and Alice. Sam, Peter, and Tiger did nt come back this year. Clearly no one else in the group thought anything of the names that Anne was rattling off. Marshall smiled again, his big beaming smile. Thats why we called the Biodiversity lab. Last year our birds our birds were a bit off. But this is way out of our league. He grabbed her by the arm, but by now she took it as a good sign, Do you want to go see them? 32 She nodded, and Weston rummaged through his backpack to come up with a bright blue ABA hat, which he held out to her . I thought you might like a hat. We have Lyme ticks. Thank you, Weston. Before she knew it, she was in the back woods of Georgia, in eighty five degree heat, and eighty five percent humidity, trailing a team of birdwatchers. They laughed, and sh e didnt even ask as they pointed out Boss Hog and Roscoe, two woodpeckers who were squabbling over a nearby tree. I t was two a.m. when Jillian spotted Jordan at the airport curb. He stood with one bag over his shoulder and a carry on just clinging to t he tips of his fingers, looking much worse for the wear than she was. Pulling up, she spilled out of the car, her arms offering up a hug, and immediately she saw the awkwardness of the move, but it was too late to stop herself. He was a co worker, and not family. Even if she was here in the middle of the night. Jordan was startled by the move, but he hugged her back, maybe even just a moment too long, clearly out of it, and she wouldnt have been surprised if he passed out right there in the pick up lane. But he simply threw his bag into the backseat, and slid, bone weary, into the passenger side. Thank you . . . If he was going to say something else, it was lost in the moments between starting the car, and her intense scrutiny of the few ot her vehicles in the pick up lane while she tried to find her way back to the freeway. From the expression on his face and the way he hid it behind spread fingers, his cousins death had been hard on him. When he finally looked up, she handed him the extr a soft drink she had gotten for him. I dont know if you want this, maybe you just need to go home and pass out, but I was getting one anyway. No. Im starving, actually. Thank you. He sighed, sucked down a good portion of the soda, and two second s later started talking again. I can order a pizza right now, right? Will you come up and share it with me? I need your help. That pulled her brows together. He was tired and not in there. And he wanted her to come up for pizza in the middle of the night? But again she didnt get to say anything. Eddie had leukemia. But he died of a stomach flu that put him in a coma. Frustration carried bell clear in the soft deep timbre of his voice. What? I dont know of any stomach flu that does that . She pulled up to the curb in front of his building. Exactly. He popped open the car door and retrieved his bag. I alienated my family asking questions. All they know is that hes gone. His wife is right, I cant bring him back. But I cant ans wer any of the questions either. . . . And you probably really want to go home and get some sleep. Actually, Im wide awake now. Buy me a pizza and tell me all about it. She closed her car door and turned the key, managing only a small wince in the still city night air as the horn beeped that the alarm was engaged. In the elevator he rummaged through his carry on bag, producing a heavy folder that looked at once brand new and well worn. Jillian took it from him, while he entered his unit and went around the small living dining area, opening windows, and turning on lights and the fan. The first 33 slight breeze hit her face and it occurred to her that it was stuffy in here, even for the middle of the night. She turned the file over. This says the file was released to Dr. Jordan Abellard of the CDCP. . . Did you use the CDC to get this? He shook his head. I went in with Kellys release form, she had put CDCP on it. I had my badge and they never questioned it. Thats not really I k now, He put his hands up in the air. What do you want me to do? I never said anything, they assumed. And I had the complete file in my hands in under twenty minutes. Jillian couldnt smother her smile. Im fine with that; I was just curious if you knew that it was against policy. His stance relaxed. So what do you like on your pizza? Canadian bacon and pineapple His face immediately told her that he didnt feel the same way about toppings. So she continued. But Ill eat pepperoni, or sausage or olives, or peppers. He paced while he was on hold and she thumbed through the huge file; it would take hours just to see what was in there, but it wasnt like she had a busy social life demanding her time. After a few minutes she had found n othing unusual and Jordan was ordering. A few phrases broke through while she was reading. . . . two liter coke . . . large pizza . . . half Canadian bacon and pineapple the other half . . . She smiled. By the time he was sitting next to her at the old coffee table she had made a once over. It looks normal for a leukemia patient up until that last stomach flu. So fill me in on the rest. You got the basics from the file. There were a few scares, but he kept pulling through. He was in rem ission since this time last year. Jordan shoved his fingers through his hair. It was the longest remission he had maintained over the five year course of the disease. His white count was normal up until the end. It was fine when he was brought in. I t sounded like flu, but everything sounds like flu. Her heart ached for him. It wasnt just a medical mystery he was trying to solve. Jillian couldnt remember him ever mentioning his cousin, but clearly Eddies death had shaken him up. You know, the re may not be an answer. I know. Its just so odd. If its a disease that took advantage of his weak immune system . . . I work for a company that has the foremost technology to prevent these kinds of things from happening. He shrugged. Jillian b egan dismantling the large folder into sections by visit and series. She handed one chunk back to Jordan. Tell me about him. He shook his head. Twenty nine year old, Caucasian male, mild smoker, mild drinker She cut him off. No, really tell me. Where did he live? What is his place like? His family? Two hours later, she was exhausted. Jordan probably would have been asleep except that he was pacing tracks into the carpet. What do I do, Jilly? Lets sleep now, and at noon, when we get in, we take it to Landerly. 34 D avid pushed his hair back off his face. In the wet wool of the thick air it clung like spiderwebs, giving him willies as he imagined the one thing he was really afraid of. Greer laughed at him, his usual low chuckle whe n Davids harsh personality amused him. What are you laughing at? Youre okay because your people are from here, you darkie! Dude, you are way messed up. My people are from Africa. Trust me, we arent built for this kind of humidity. Greer neve r stopped his careful chipping at the rock beneath him. At least your hair sticks up and out of the way. Yup. Which is the reason my race is superior and yours felt the need to better yourselves by enslaving us. David also never took his eyes off the ground layer beneath them. There was no good comeback, and so he avoided one all together, the conversation trickling off to nothing while they worked. There was water making constant background static nearby, and a damned obnoxious bird that had a call that just never quit. God had been laughing when he put the lungs on that thing. Just as soon as it shut up another one would answer it. Evidence of deer had been all over the first few days, and it had taken nearly a week to push back what tim e and the East Tennessee climate had done to the abandoned site. It was slow going in the back woods, with the rustles of forest and the slope of the Appalachians beneath them. The only sound that broke the peace was the two men calling each other names and the high ching of the tiny picks striking rock. Neither of them had the easy swing of a student, so the calls of the birds were periodically interrupted by the sharp screech of metal glancing off rock followed by a colorful string of swear words. T hen, after a brief pause, nature would resume its noise, hiding the fact that they were there from the cities and homes not that far away. Greer, this ones for you. Carter brushed off his knees, and stood, not cursing out loud this time. The pain in his joints that told of age was not anything he wished to acknowledge to the world. What is it? Fuck if I know. Its a bone, maybe its a damn trilobite. If youre lucky its one of your lizards. He heard the edge in Davids voice. Dinosaurs a rent lizards. You know it, Ive told you that. Ah. David stood and stretched his hands over his head, taking in the thick mass of tall trees and virtually untouched wilderness that enclosed them. That would imply that I listen to you. He tried n ot to let his legs give him away as he moved to a new spot that had looked interesting. But, even from where he was bent over his dig, Greer saw it. Well listen to this, my honky friend: Im bigger than you, and stronger than you, and he pointed his pick at Davids knees, not nearly as arthritic as you. So dont call my dinos lizards. Its insulting. Hey Greer, you do know that all your dinos died, right? That means that youre studying an animal that is gone, gone, gone, and wont ever come ba ck. You have a totally useless profession. Greer snorted. Dude, you think the limestone you hold is going to reveal anything other than what happened a zillion years ago? 35 David held up one chunk that he had extracted, and smiled. This baby can tel l the future. Well, you just tell me what your Magic Eight Ball there says. Were headed for another polarity shift. David smiled. There hed said it, out loud, even if it was only to Greer. But Greer snorted again. Yeah, in another million yea rs. He pushed himself to his feet and dusted off. Be sure to let me know how that pans out for you. David started carefully picking his way through the grid lines. Just go play with your petrified lizard. But Greer was already standing over it lo oking down, trying to figure what the piece that Davids pick had revealed might be. He turned his head one way then another, before sliding the instrument into the hammer loop of his carpenter jeans and pulling out a smaller, lighter one from a deep poc ket somewhere. His voice was no longer the one that insulted David, but a little more thoughtful. Theres a good chance this dig will help us solidify the dinosaur therapsid link. Us? dont need a link. Us paleontologists. Greer knelt down an d spoke to the small whitish smooth piece buried within the packed limestone, Come to Papa. He took a few small swings at the peripheries before speaking to David. Actually, you do need a dino therapsid link. The therapsids were dinosaur like pre mam mals and warm blooded to boot. Which means they are absolutely pertinent to you, Mr. Mammal. Like I care about the distinction between dinos and lizards and theradons Therapsids. Exactly, . My kind survived. Me and my mammal fri ends. David could see the edges of Greers smile even though he was bent over, softly chipping at the rock. Come to think, Im not so sure that you are a mammal. Mammals are warm blooded. Ohhhhhh. David drolled out the monotone. That was low, G reer. Then he smiled. Congratulations, I didnt think you had it in you. I thought maybe honky was the best you could do. At least I dont have to carry limestone in my pockets. Seems to me thats the only rocks swinging in your pants. David turned to look at his friend, but Greer was on his hands and knees, and all he could see was an eyeful of upturned ass. So he looked away. Youre sooo funny. But Greer didnt seem to hear him. At least, he didnt respond. So, bending over, David w ent back to reading the tags hanging off the intersecting lines in the grid he and Greer had painstakingly mapped. They had tried to match it to the original site that Wharton had laid out, and theyd gotten damned close as best as they could tell. He tu rned to find the specimens that matched this location and came back with a few zipper baggies heavy in his hands. Wharton would kill if he knew that Carter was at this site. More specifically he would kill David. And bring shame upon his father. Ah, we ll. Wharton could go to hell. He was the one who had missed the geologic hotspot here. More the fool he. Turning the baggies over in his hands, David read the markings through the clear plastic. The KT boundary here was much closer to the surface, mu ch of geological evidence of the past washed away by wind and time. The Appalachians were much older than the Rockies, the fault lines here all but inactive, and so they had been worn smooth and low, exposing things to the surface, or hiding them just bar ely underneath. For him and Greer to come and pick at. 36 Sweet! The exclamation came from the spot he had abandoned to Greer moments before. This was worth leaving my pregnant wife at home. That aint saying much. Carter could hear the drawl de veloping in his voice, not that they spoke to much of anyone around here. But like the humidity, the accents were so thick in this part of the state that you couldnt help but absorb it. Like some communicable disease. Whatd you find? Petrified turd? Dude, you have no sense at all. Its an egg, maybe a whole nest, so back off. The steady sound of the light pick striking stone picked up again as Greer tried to unearth his find. For the briefest of moments David wished for a team, where he and Gr eer could lead like they usually did, and have other people do the labor, the intensive and time consuming picking and brushing and getting things out. But then he remembered why they were here alone; they had to be. Another baggie with another set of ma rkings was telling the same story. The polarity here was reversed. This specimen from just at the KT boundary had a clear magnetic direction. But when it was lined up with the site, north was south and south was north. Wharton had fucked up. And David was more than certain that he had dug up another hotspot. He tried to keep his breathing regular even as he felt his stomach roll over. Greer let up a cheer as he unearthed something that would interest only him, so David just pressed his hand to his mi ddle hoping to quell the churning there and did his best to ignore all of it. Damned birds started up again, and to add insult to injury a woodpecker started in on a nearby tree. He was only familiar with the Woody Woodpecker variety, so with a great sig h of misery, David lifted his head to see if he could see the thing. Sure enough it was racking its head at jackhammer speed against a trunk, but luckily no obnoxious laughter emerged. At this point the Deep South was so disturbing to him that he wouldn t have been surprised if Injuns had popped out from behind the tall oaks with feathers in their hair, and looking for scalps. Or maybe the deer could just come out and do a tap dance. He had his hotspot, he knew it. Soon hed be able to leave the land that time forgot. He just needed to unearth enough evidence so that there could be no argument. If Greer found a tie between the hotspots and the dieout times, well . . . there was no telling where it might go. Except that they would get themselves imm ortalized in every high school science textbook. Carter needed more evidence. The rest of the world might not know what he knew in his gut. It was here and he was standing on top of it. So he lowered himself to his knees and hunched over again, and began wounding the earth beneath him, just a little more. B otulism, botulism, and botulism had been Jordans guess on the caseload that morning. Yesterday they had arrived at two in the afternoon, squinting in the bright sun, and trying to look like they hadnt slept sideways on his couch, Eddies file dangling from their sleep slackened fingertips. So the guess hadnt been very exuberant. It hadnt been creative. And it sure as hell hadnt been right. Jordan figured one of these days he had to h it. But then he began the worrying: Would he die of boredom writing reports about food poisoning while he never figured out what happened to Eddie? 37 And why the hell did old man Landerly have to pick this week of all weeks to leave town? He was barely ab le to get around the office some days, so what was he doing climbing on a 747 and hitting the beach? Just when he was needed, too. He hadnt said anything, but Jillians voice cut into his thoughts, so accurate that for a moment he wasnt sure that she w as actually speaking, Hell be back in a few days. Eddies file wont change in that time. He did look up to nod and force a small half smile as thanks for her concern. Today she was well put together, her dark hair drawn back away from her face in a tight clip. Her usual look for the office. Her clothing was getting more casual, and she was questioning him less and less as she worked. She churned out files like she was writing emails to friends. And she didnt question why his pace had ground to a near halt. A few blinks and he tried to clear his head. A quick scan down to the bottom of the front page showed that it was not, in fact, anything like botulism. He had a clear cut case of Legionnaires Disease in his hot little hands and he had stare d at it blankly for half an hour. Something pestered him while he began to slowly type, tabbing across the open fields on the computer screen, inputting bits of information here and there. And . . . Jilly was watching him. Her keys didnt click, they had stopped some time ago, and thats what was bothering him. Just as his eyes lifted to meet her gaze, she spoke up. Lets go get lunch. My treat. He shook his head. Im not keeping up, Im just going to eat out of the vending machines. I just n eed to get back into the groove of things. Why he wasnt already in the groove of it, after a full day back, was beyond him though. No you wont Thanks for the vote of confidence, doll. But even though he had refused verbally, Jillian was walking around the large desk, shedding her labcoat and dropping it onto a hook on the old curly coatstand shoved into the corner of the room. But the cubby of an office was so small it was all in arms reach. You need chicken nuggets. Her smile got wider. Youre frustrated because you lost someone youve been trained to save, and not only werent you there, you still cant figure out what went wrong. And I cant figure it out for you. And to make matters worse, Landerly is suddenly out of town, so you ca nt get answers from the one person who might be able to provide them. But I can buy you chicken nuggets and I can help take up the slack a little so you can figure things out. With a small shrug she dismissed her own generosity for nothing. She had his hand in hers, although he was unsure when it had gotten there. And suddenly it seemed like a rather intimate gesture. When added in to the fact that she had just put to words what was eating at him, he couldnt stop the curl of his fingers around the heat she offered with just her hand. He couldnt stop the first smile he had formed all day, and he let her lean her full weight back as she made the motions of pulling him up from his seat. They didnt speak on the way over, and he let her order for hi m, not surprised that she knew exactly what he wanted; theyd been here at least six times in the past month and he hadnt varied his order at all. So he tried not to dwell on Eddie. And three empty sauce containers later, he asked her, So what did you find in the reports today? Botulism? She shook her head, knowing that she had blasted his predictions all to hell. Salmonella Her voice kept his mind from wandering too far astray, Then there were the three old people in the 38 nursing home. Some so rt of vague guess at a staph infection. It killed them but there was no real conclusive evidence He looked up because her voice had just trailed off. Jillys mouth hung in a small open o, her blue eyes focused somewhere beyond his shoulder. The ge ars working in her brain were visible and he waited her out. The tension he hadnt realized he was carrying tightening in his muscles every second. But he didnt push her to voice her reasoning. Briefly it flashed across his thoughts again that he had nt been hired to be the brilliant theorist. And if she was both the workhorse and the genius then perhaps he was just window dressing. Her lip turned in, and just as he had leaned all the way forward, waiting on edge for whatever she was going to announ ce, she looked at him and spoke. Jordan, we have to go back and double check that file. 39 Chapter 4 Chapter 4 B ecky sank into her wooden swivel chair, with her head cradled in her hands. Warden hadnt let up on her regular load because of the frogs. Never mind that investigating animal oddities was what the Biodiversity lab was set up to do. Never mind that she had stayed and kept the paper with the university. Warden seemed to begrudge her the find because it had been hers. Angry birds here, creepy frogs t here, it was all too much. But Her head snapped up. Maybe . . . Maybe there was a connection between the screwed up frogs and the screwed up birds. She worked on it for the rest of the day, trying to come up with some sort of link. Then drove most of the way home until her little Jetta sputtered and died on her. She trudged the last mile, and arrived weary in her soul, brain, and body. From where she threw open the front door, Becky could see that her mother was in the kitchen and Brandon and Mela nie were playing with two frogs loose on the living room carpet. Those better not be my frogs. It was meant to be a threat but she didnt really have the energy to back it. They are, but Im supervising. The voice sounded so much like her Dads tha t her head snapped up. Aaron! She felt the smile spread across her face as she launched herself into his arms. Only two years older, Aaron had been her god since the day she was born. In her early teens, she had suffered through the indignities of ha ving to share him with her friends. And later with having to share him with the town. Knoxville was like every other southern town. There were three religions: Baptist, Football, and Other, in order of their likelihood of gaining you a spot in hea ven. And Aaron had led the town to a state championship. Hey, Becky. His hair was blonde and short but his eyes were green moss just like hers. Long time, no see. What are you doing here? Just drove up for the weekend. And come to find ou t youve got yourself some weird little frogs. He looked over her shoulder, his eyes snapping wide. Hey! Melanie! I told you two hands! That made Becky jerk her head around. Only to see Melanie roll her eyes and hold the frog out at arms length wr apped in the short fingers of her right hand. She shook the frog slightly for emphasis as she spoke. This is how youre to hold them with only hand. Back fingers hold their legs down. Top finger and thumb hold their arms out, and they c ant get away! She rotated the frog to upside down and back upright. It waved its hands but didnt accomplish much else. Tell him, Becky. Forced to display a small smile to Aaron, she conceded. Shes right. But then she turned back to her sister and with two hands slipped the frog from Melanies grip into her own identical hold. But you arent supposed to flip them around like that. Whatever, theyre so creepy anyway. I was just getting a lexan. With that the reprimand was dismissed and t he little girl wandered off to get the plastic container. In a moment she held it up for Becky to slide the frog down in, head first, then snapped the container back closed. 40 Becky started when her mother spoke suddenly from directly behind them, and tu rned to find the woman using the same emphasizing hand gestures her younger daughter had just moments before, only with a spatula not a frog. Were really looking into sending her to that gifted school out in Cedar Bluff. They just opened that new Magne t Program out there. ! It was earshattering and they all turned to stare at Melanie who had gone red in the face in the space of a breath. I wont go! I dont want to ride the Becky shook her head, far more used to their little siste rs antics than Aaron ever would be. He had moved away to college the first chance he had gotten, his status of Golden Boy eating at him in a way even Becky had never understood. He had been out of the house before Melanie came along and had never real ly gotten to see her full fledged personality. Letting herself sink down into one of the dining room chairs, Becky toed off her thick sneakersand let the feeling of relief soak into her feet. She leaned back and almost closed her eyes before she realiz ed that Brandon was standing right beside her, clear tupper in hand, the frog inside pointed toward the window. Becky raised her eyebrows; too worn out to voice her question, she let it show on her face. Melanie got too mad to tell you what we discovere d. Watch. Brandon walked over to the refrigerator. Becky tilted her head to see, but expected nothing other than the appearance of a moldy ham sandwich. He placed the lexan flush against the fridge and waited. Slowly, the frog turned to face the ol d white unit. When he pulled the container away, the little fellow re oriented to his original direction. He put it back and the frog turned again to face the fridge. Waving his hands like some demented magician, Brandon declared it Cool, huh? Then g ave his theory. I think hes hungry see. . . Melanie says thats not it, but shell see. Can I give him pizza? No! But her brows were pulled together and she was out of her chair in her bare feet, traipsing over to where he stood, her fatigue dis missed in the wake of her growing curiosity. Trying it herself, Becky kneeled in front of the fridge and moved the container slowly towards and away from the white door. Her frown deepened as the frog made the same subtle adjustments every time. Fo r gods sakes Becky, I need to get the margarine. Her mother tapped her foot impatiently behind her, not at all moved by the new level of oddity displayed by her catch. Obligingly, she stood up and went in search of other objects the frog might turn t o. She started toward the TV, which Brandon pertly informed her wouldnt work. He grinned like a praised puppy when it didnt. Its just the fridge. But Becky didnt believe that. There had to be something else. But she just wasnt sure what. She traipsed through the house, testing every large object she could think of. Aaron dogged her heels, for once following to see what she would come up with next. They were all three piled behind the front door watching the frog shuffle uncomfortably, waiting to see if it would change direction or settle into its familiar line. None of them heard the door click and all three fell into a startled heap when Mr. Sorenson opened the door onto them. Melanie came bouncing over the pile of bodies struggli ng to right themselves, Daddy, Daddy, youre home! Yes, I am. He grabbed up his youngest and stepped gingerly over his other children, trying to gracefully right themselves. Were you all so anxious to see me? Aaron shrugged, and Becky was amazed to watch the transformation from grown man to child that was so rapid across his features. We were just checking out Beckys weird frogs. 41 Her fathers eyes caught her gaze. Is it something new? Yes! Daddy, Yes! Melanie bounced in his arms. They turn toward the fridge! Becky decided to be grateful her sister was no longer sulking in her room, withholding what might be valuable information, and she held the frog next to the oven. It stayed in its normal direction. Becky swore under her breath, dropping her behavior marks another few notches. But at the top of the oven, the little guy turned. He turned toward the washer and dryer, too. I know what it is! She yelled out as she turned and smacked squared into Aarons chest. W heres Lander lys signature? Anne shook her pretty little blonde head as she poured over the forms in front of her. Jordan smiled and pointed. He was afraid his expression screamed . He had vetoed Jillian standing beside him at this point, so she didnt have to be here for this display of fraud. Also because she was a really terrible liar. Anne giggled. The way youre grinning at me, and the number of times this things been through a fax . . . you could have forged this. I didnt forge i t. The irritation that the difficult to read signature was his work was genuine. He hadnt forged it. Jillian had. But Anne just giggled again and entered the data. Itll be about half an hour. He raised his eyebrows, not giving voice to all the q uestions he desperately wanted to ask, but couldnt because theyd give him away like a neon sign. Was she going to call to corroborate with Landerly? She had already made a comment about forgeries. Was she going to run it by the higher ups? Yeah, I cant whip up a plane ticket out of thin air. She giggled again, and as much as it reassured Jordan that she was dumb enough that he just might pull this off, it also was beginning to annoy the hell out of him. Thanks, babe. He turned and walked awa y, not getting to see her response. He winced inwardly and went back to his desk. He already knew what would happen if they were found out. Landerly had told them that first day that the CDC would just send them into the Ebola lab without suits. His breathing picked up. Just as he entered his cubby hole of an office and leaned wearily back against the inside wall, his leg vibrated, scaring the shit out of him. But it was just his cell phone, and as he held up the display panel he realized that it was Jillian. Hi. Her panic radiated through the phone even before she spoke, poor thing. Jordan, are you okay? They didnt find out did they? No. Our flights will be ready in about half an hour. Where are you going? The voice was masculi ne, and coming from behind him. In that first split second Jordan schooled himself to a calm response. You startled me. Turning, he saw it was Mark from the lab. Were going to Florida. Mark nodded in understanding, although just what he underst ood was beyond Jordans capabilities. Spiderbite girl having a relapse? Nope, something new. . . He stopped himself before launching into an explanation; it would just be more to get tangled in later. Offering a smile, he turned his attention back t o the conversation with Jillian, and ended it as quickly as possible in hopes of avoiding other such scares. 42 Mark simply wished him good luck, and turned to go. Or so he thought. Again the voice startled him. Is Dr. Brookwood going with you? Hm? It came out before he put the pieces together. Jillian. Yes, she is. As he went back to his sorting, it occurred to him to add up Marks actions over the last few weeks: it equaled a crush on Jillian. But Jillian would never put up with that shuffl ing walk. No authority. The desk phone yelled at him, an angry electronic buzz that was supposed to resemble a bell ringing. He answered it gruffly just to stop the noise. Realizing only as he got the phone to his ear, that there was every possibilit y that it was Landerly, calling to check up on them. Perhaps having noticed the, oh say, fax pages he had received from them before they went about forging his signature. Dr. Abellard. The wispy quality and lilt of the voice dispelled any of those fears in less than the time it had taken them to form. This is Anne, at reception. Travel has confirmed your flights. You leave in three hours. Thank you, Anne. He pinched the bridge of his nose, glad that the one thing keeping him here was finished. He wanted to get away and hide from the people he was cheating. Maybe he could be on the plane before anyone figured out what was going on. Ill be by within the next ten minutes. No, they wouldnt get caught. Landerly wasnt going to be back for another week and they would be back before then; no one would be the wiser. And even Jillian thought she could justify the trip after the fact. Landerly listened to her. He grabbed his briefcase, and hefted it to the desk, stuffing in the ext ra files. It brimmed already with all the paperwork he could find on Eddie and Lake James medical history. He gave only the barest of smiles to Anne as he breezed by the front desk. Her voice trailed him down the hall like so much cheap perfume, Have a good trip Dr. Abellard! Jeez, could she yell it next time? But he stuck his badge on the reader at the front door without unclipping it and waited the short eternity for the computer to decide that he deserved to leave and then actually slide the glass doors open. It was all he could do not to squeeze through sideways the instant a crack appeared. The afternoon sun hit him full force, blinding him almost as thoroughly as it would after a matinee movie. He bli nked rapidly to clear his vision, knowing full well that his sight adjusting was a matter of time and not moisture. He was basically tear free by the time he popped open the door of his overly blue Cavalier. He should get a better car. But that would ha ppen a lot easier once his student loans were paid off. And that was a minimum of a few years away. He shoved the car into drive and left the building that was threatening to reveal his secrets to his bosses. He dug his cell phone out of his pants poc ket and depressed his #2 speed dial while he was waiting to merge onto the freeway. Hi, Jillian. . . Im out. Our flight is at seven fifteen. . . . we get into Sarasota Bradenton Airport at midnightish, . . . yeah, Ill come by your place. . . . All right, Bye. Traffic was getting heavier and he was glad to hang up. But a conversation would have been preferable to the thoughts running through his head. Landerly would call from Hawaii. Or he would see his pager had gone off and all the numbers w ere the same. And when he did finally call in Jordan and Jilly would be gone. Bad move. He pulled out the cell and held it at arms length in front of him, carefully feeling his way around the number pad. Hi, Anne, can I ask you a favor? Can you forw ard all the calls to my office to my cell phone? 43 What about the calls for Dr. Brookwood? He could hear her eyelashes beating a steady rhythm just from her voice. Shell be with me, so they can all come to my cell. And he gave her the number and hung up feeling much better, until he realized that hed given Anne his personal number. He just prayed that he hadnt given her any ideas. His apartment seemed to be about ten miles further away than he remembered it. Crime sure did find a way of tur ning you upside down. And once he was there he wasnt really sure what to pack. So he threw in all the same things he had packed for his earlier trip to Florida and headed out to Jillians. He parked on the curb and buzzed her apartment, leaving his b ag in the back seat. She didnt even answer the ring. Instantly the door began to buzz, and he followed the sound inside. Jordan jogged up the stairs hoping to burn off some extra energy. It didnt work, and coming face to face with Jillian, her hall d oor flung wide, didnt help him calm down either. She was taking deep breaths and talking. Almost to him, . . . maybe not. Landerly told us that when we found an answer we would know it. And that he would back us when that time came. He wasnt ava ilable. No one else would help, we knew that. We can ask each of them in turn if they would have signed off on it. Theyll say no. So he took her by her upper arms and guided her back into the small apartment, Jillian, calm down. Were going to be fine. We arent going to get fired, for all the reasons you just listed. He breathed in. Take a deep breath. And he waited until she did, Now, we have to leave. Are you ready? She just nodded and started to reach for her bag, then fumbled with the lock to her front door. Jillian, if you dont calm down, theyre going to detain us at the airport for being suspicious. Huh? Her whole body stilled. I was a cheerleader and a girl scout. I couldnt possibly be a terrorist. He laughed. Ac tually that would make you the ideal terrorist. So pull it together. She laughed with him, the first easy, relaxed sound he had heard from her since they had hatched this horrible plan over lunch. And she managed to keep herself steady and calm, even w hen security did an open check on her bags. For the briefest of moments Jordan wondered if they would pull out anything good, like a vibrator or a chain of foil condom packets. But no, there was a novel and a bunch of photocopied files that he was pretty certain represented cases that she had searched and pulled together. They made it to the terminal just as loading was beginning and joined all the other fliers funneling themselves down to the gate like so many cows to the slaughter. Once they were at their row, he made Jillian give up the window seat, arguing that she had slept through every single flight the last time. He didnt add that he had never gotten to fly until he was an adult paying his own way. The window still held a kind of magic for h im that had worn off most middle class kids by the age where they could read the take off time on cartoon watches. And sure enough, even as he watched the houses and freeways below getting smaller and smaller, he felt the soft weight of her head settling on his shoulder, and the swish of her hair, unbound, falling across her face. 44 B eckys eyes adjusted to where Aaron swung the highbeam, lighting the whole area in front of them to ghastly shades of bright and black. All the shadows of midnight remained , just thoroughly delineated by the overpowering light. It became even creepier when they entered the woods at the back side of the field. She started talking just to quell the feeling that she was walking where she didnt belong and where she was unwa nted. So how has So did Aaron. How do these frogs do They laughed together, then she let him finish asking about her catch. These are . A genus that really includes all your garden variety frogs, no bullfrogs though. Theyre indicator spe cies really sensitive to the environment. Theyll mutate, like my little guys, really quick, if anything is off. You know, radiation, pollution, that kind of thing. Or magnetics. So, what is this then? Were visiting a polluted frog spot in the mi ddle of the night, that might be loaded with radiation from the power plant? I thought of Oak Ridge, too. They actually do grow some creepy frogs out that way sometimes. But theyre on the other side of the town from us, and they tend to hop down towa rds Chattanooga. How comforting. He muttered. She maneuvered around behind him, disliking how her own shadow gave her such a case of the creeps. I checked them all out at school with a Geiger counter and got nothing. Like almost zilch. I mean would register on these meters, theyre that sensitive. All right. He raised the light, letting her decide which path to take, and even though it didnt look anything like it did during the day, she instinctively knew which way to go. So, anyway , other than the fact that they have spare legs, and are all from this one spot, Ive got nothing. She took another long pull on the coke she carried with her. That is, until tonight I had nothing. But what is it? Are all frogs magnetic and yours a re just backward? Nope, Ive never heard of it in frogs. They were getting close, the tiny creek making burbling noises even at this late hour, and the local frogs raising their voices in a hellish chorus. So why would these frogs be magnetic? Ot her animals are. She raised the compass in her palm, angling it to catch the light, and read it. Still in the right direction. No worries there. Yet. She kept up her chatter with Aaron, they were getting close and she was nervous about what she might find out. Bees are, and so are homing pigeons. Not enough to stick to the refrigerator. Youre sooo funny Aaron, look! She held up the compass. The needle had flopped to the opposite direction. She stepped backwards retracing her steps out of the area where she had first found the freaky little frogs. The needle swung back to the correct orientation. Sweet Jesus. As she walked back and forth, it changed. To exactly the opposite direction. Sure she wasnt seeing it right, she lifted he r head to ask her brother to shine the light over her way and was met with a blinding glare. For a moment she had visions that the sheriff had found them and was going to haul them in, cuffs and cruiser and all. Although they were on their own property a nd all they could be cited for was leaving the car by the side of the road. In a second Aaron was at her side and the blinding glare was gone, directed down at the face of the compass, leaving her completely unable to distinguish anything beyond the borde rs of the 45 light. Back and forth they walked for a minute or two, mesmerized by the swing of the needle. Then Becky pulled him forward to the edge of the stream and the spot where she and Brandon had caught all the frogs. The needle stayed re oriented. North was south and south was north. This is where we caught them. She shoved up her sleeve and slowly bent over, sinking her hand into the cold water. The forest around them was now quiet, except for the wild trickle of the creek. It had no instinct s and didnt know that something was amiss with all this bright light in the middle of the dark. But the frogs knew, and Becky could spot their shapes under the edges of the bumps and eddies. Their little noses and eyes stuck up above the surface, trying to catch a breath, and yet be still enough to thwart the predator. But Becky got lucky, and in a moment she had reached down and slowly wrapped her hand around one of the little guys thinking he had it made by being motionless. She held up her catch, even as the nearby frogs scattered away from the site of the latest loss of their brethren. Look Aaron, four back legs. When she finished pulling up several six legged frogs, she wandered the area using the compass as a guide, certain that some large o bject was buried here. Sighing, she was grateful again that Aaron was a lawyer. What if whatevers here is government? Can they keep me from publishing my findings? Huh? If this is a dump site, you know, for some magnetic ore, or theres a secr et lab under the ground, Okay, now she was getting really far fetched, well, would they be able to stop me from writing this up and letting the world know? He thought for a moment. No, were on our own land. I dont think they have any legal recours e. But if you have skeletons in your closet that they might blackmail you with, who knows? She laughed with him. I dont have a boyfriend. I dont even steal paperclips from the school, and Ive never made one of those freaky sex tapes. Dont let Mom and Dad even know that you know what those are. No joke. She crossed the stream on large stones that she had put there years ago and wandered through the woods, crashing through underbrush and sounding much like the Jolly Green Giant. She was hal f trying to convince herself that it was just the unearthly silence that made it sound that way. If Satan himself rose up before her, she couldnt say that she would be too shocked. But just then the compass needle jumped. Becky startled, then walked back and forth a few times, using the sway of the thin red magnet to get a feel for the edge of the spot. Aaron. Hm? He looked up from his musings. What? We need to go get stakes and a . . . that yellow police tape stuff. Theres a clear bound ary here. We can mark it. But not now. He refused, and once he shined the light back the way they had come, she had no choice but to follow or be abandoned to the noise and the blackness. O h we werent expecting you. It was Maddi e, according to her nametag. 46 Jillian just smiled. She wasnt half bad at this lying. Really? Im sorry. Our secretary was supposed to let you know that were following up the interviews done by Drs. Smith and Webber. Maddie was Maddie Levinson. S he and her husband owned and ran the Levinson Home for the Aged. The round faced woman just smiled and stepped back, holding the door open for them. Well, youre here now. She seemed perfectly content to let them come in and reassess the place. Which clicked in Jillians mind as a good thing. If they were trying to cover up elder abuse or something, the case for a new disease would never hold. Jordan trailed her in and she introduced both herself and him to the womans husband, who was just as rou nd and polyestered as she was. They had the same pie faced smiles that ultimately seemed kind and gentle. A visual sweep of the area made it clear that this was a home that had been converted to a care facility. Shed read beforehand that these two live d here, twenty four seven. We would love to comb through your patient records, if we could. Maybe we could just stay out of your way. But she had barely gotten the last word out when Jordan started speaking over her. We just think that there might b e something new here, and we want to be certain that it gets identified and stopped. I know the last CDC team suggested a staph infection And for the first time the sweet moon face looked disgruntled. I just dont know how that could have happened. Were so. . . . it sure hasnt happened again, if thats what youre afraid of. Jordan stepped close and put his arm on the womans shoulder, leading her to sit at her own breakfast table where he pulled a seat a little closer. When Dr. Brookwood and I reviewed the file, we didnt feel it was a staph infection at all. There wasnt any evidence of it; they just couldnt find anything else. His hand covered the older womans, calming her immeasurably by that simple, unforward touch. Jillian watched th e changes in her with awe. Jillian is right. She couldnt believe he had used her first name. Not that she was angry, but she didnt understand. It was all about being professional, right? And having no clue where he was going, she decided to step b ack and let Jordan ride the wave he had created. Well want to go through all the old records like the other team. But beyond that, well need some time to talk to you. Maybe you can tell us something that isnt in the records. Maddie balked a little , We keep very thorough records. Jordan didnt even try to argue that one. Ive seen them, theyre some of the best in the business, but there are other things that youd never think were medical, things that only a close caretaker, like yourselves, might notice. Any information you can give us would only help. Arthur Levinson, Art by his nametag, finally spoke up, but only to talk to his wife. Honey, why dont you help them get the files and Ill serve breakfast. And with that Maddie led them down the hall and unlocked a large, very neat office with mauve frills above the windows and ducks walking around the border at the top of the room. Walls of cheap, black file cabinets surrounded them, each carefully labeled and clearly locked. Mrs. Levinson let them know they were welcome to anything they wanted to peruse and, smiling at Jordan, handed over the small key ring labeled office and asked what she could bring them to drink, or if they wanted a danish? God, that was Jordan for you. Fi ve minutes and any woman would be eating out of his hand. Look at the way he had worked over Anne at the front desk. Jillian was glad she wasnt that kind of girl. But here they were in the office, with all the files at their disposal. And coffee on the way. Sweet deal. 47 She took a deep breath. Lets get to work. Roommates? Jordan asked, not looking up from the labels on the file drawers. It was Maddies voice that answered. The roommates of our members who got sick? Well, theres Mildred Hartford. Shes still here in the green room. She paused while Jillian started scribbling furiously on her notepad, third down the hall on the right. She was Joseph Finklesteins roommate. Maddie continued the second roommate was in the hospital in Sarasota with a broken hip. And the third roommate had moved to another home after developing a more severe case of emphysema. But Mrs. Levinson said she had numbers to reach all the current caretakers. Then she named names and rattled the numbers of f from memory, impressing the hell out of Jillian. Three hours later Jillian had about thirty folders pulled and open in various states of disarray around her. Jordan had about twenty more. They were getting somewhere. But God, if she had to look at th ese cream colored walls for five more minutes she was going to spontaneously combust. Jordan? Hmm? He didnt look up from where he hunched over the files on the floor. He had graciously insisted that she take the only desk space. But in the hours in between he had sprawled, his jacket getting hung up over the inside doorknob, his tie loosening then disappearing. Now his sleeves were rolled up and he was in some unnatural position, chewing on the end of his red pen. I dont know about you, but I need lunch. She stood and stretched, ignoring the fact that her suit was wrinkled. That was okay, it wasnt designed for stretching either. When they finally pulled out of the driveway, they both began talking at once. I think its a Im positi ve it wasnt staph. Me, too. She sighed, running her hand over her hair, smartly pulled back into a ponytail that looked as professional as a ponytail could. Theres no positive culture and nothing to link the three patients. No chain of infectio n. Jordan looked out the window at the passing communities of cookie cutter bungalows, all labeled as Sunset this or Retirement that. And I dont know if youve watched these guys . . . he trailed off and waited for her to shake her head. Of cou rse Jordan had observed them in action. She wasnt sure why the thought hadnt even occurred to her. They are fastidious. Every injection clean. Every surface wiped down. Hugs and touching all the time, but I have never seen two people wash their han ds so much. He sighed, slumping a little lower into his seat. Do you think it was all just for show? No way. He turned to look at her, not doing his part to help find food anymore. We walked in here, unannounced, just as we planned. There were already hand sanitizer bottles everywhere, sharps containers in every room, and if you noticed, both the Levinsons have very chapped hands, indicating this handwashing was going on long before we got there. Of course she hadnt noticed. What she did not ice was a small sub stand with a name she didnt recognize, and she pulled into the lot and climbed out. None of the roommates has anything even resembling this. I called the nursing home and the hospital for the two that are gone. The hospital is read y to send the broken hip back to the Levinsons for the remainder of care. She didnt stop talking while she read the menu up and down. So theres nothing there to indicate it being airborne. 48 Jordan sighed and pushed both his hands through his hair, adding his order right on the tail end of hers. Only his was twice as big. They have all the same symptoms that Eddie did. I dont get it. Jillian waited until they were seated and Jordan had his head turned sideways, taking a huge sharklike bite fr om the sub. They were the three most immuno compromised patients in the home at the time. That made Jordan look up. But she still didnt pick up her sandwich. And get this: Bertha Martin was a leukemia survivor. B ecky thought they probably looked odd, marching across the field, dressed for camping, snapping photos while they went. Melanie had suggested the disposable camera from the checkout at Home Depot this morning. And Becky had gotten two. You just never knew. The real work was in getti ng all the equipment out there. Aaron had taken that upon himself; he looked like a hiker gone mad or a serial killer with the lumpy bags, the pack and the shovel. She, Brandon and Melanie followed like ducks, holding clear lexans of frogs that were finally returning to their home. But just to visit. Once they arrived at the site, the frogs were set down and they all went to work with the compasses they had picked up. Melanie swung her little hammer, pounding a stake meant to hold garden edging i nto the soft ground near the stream. With the small mallet she hit at it until it was low, or until she mistakenly whacked some part of her body and swore a word that Becky wasnt aware her sister knew. Brandon was a more efficient force; he and Aaron both having seen the need for method early on. Baggy army pants oozing garden stakes, both guys walked a line designated by the compass in their left hand, periodically pulling a stake from some previously unused spot on their person and pounding it into the ground with one swift stroke. Of course, Brandon pulling stakes out of his pockets resembled a gunslinger, with a swagger and a little preening where Aaron was all efficiency of movement. Aaron looked up at her right then. Hey, Doctor Smartypants , get in here and help. Aye, aye! She crossed the creek on the old stones and set about mapping the other side. Within half an hour, all the loose ends had met up and they had an oddly shaped circle. Becky set Melanie to winding the tape from spike to spike clearly delineating the magnetic boundary, while the rest of them wandered the site, eyes glued to compass needles, looking for any smaller spots of greater activity. That was an exercise in futility. There was nothing. Well, it was all or no thing. No one spot that gave a greater reading, or even caused the compass needles to jump or shimmy. No such luck. Okay, guys. They lifted their heads from whatever they were meddling around with at the sound of her voice. Its hokey pokey time. Put all the frogs in the circle. Even Aaron got into it. Each of the four eagerly grabbed a lexan and walked inside the orange boundary. They each set down the tupper with a flourish and waited for . . . nothing. Anyone? Becky whispered. Nothi ng. Aaron told her. His voice strong with certainty. Nothing. Brandon repeated, bell clear. 49 Becky felt her heart sink. She had thought surely bringing the frogs back here would accomplish something. Melanies voice called out next. Nothing! No thing! That was a little too chipper. Wasnt it true that the really smart ones always cracked? They arent doing anything Becky! Duh, Dorko. Brandon sneered, standing guard over his frog, legs spread, fists on his hips, sneer worthy of the s choolyard. Theyre just acting like normal frogs. And they normal frogs! Melanie was at a near fever pitch. Holy shit. Becky whispered. Shes right. The frogs were no longer orienting. Reaching down, she turned the container. Aside from the usual the world is rotating under me shuffle that all frogs did, this one didnt do anything. It didnt re orient northwest. Turn your frogs! This time even Aaron and Brandon caught on. Okay, this is just too freaky. Aaron looked up at h er. I like things neat and understandable. This is beyond my boundaries. Can I have these little green guys arrested for disorderly conduct? Becky laughed to herself. The disorderly conduct was what they were to do. It was the lining up in one direction that was creepy. She took a moment to write notes. Then had everyone take their frog out of the circle. Alignment. That got noted too. Into the circle, in new spots, this time. Disorder. Out of the circle. Alignment. But this ti me there was more. Everyone, back in the circle. At least they didnt look at her like she was crazy. Something was drastically wrong in the spot where they were standing. Her breathing hitched. Okay, were going to take our frogs and walk out a bit. Three nods. Every one has compasses? Three nods. Good, now start walking, , away from the site. She had lined each of them up in a different direction, so they backed out like four corners on a compass until Becky couldnt see any of her siblings anymore. But, loud bunch that they were, vocal contact wasnt an issue. She yelled out, My frog is facing southwest. Aaron? North north east. Brandon? South east. Melanie? West! She hollered out to her sister, whose li ttle voice was coming through the thick trees from somewhere on the left. Melanie! Have you figured it out? Yes! Theyre all facing the site! 50 Chapter 5 Chapter 5 J ordan scribbled furiously on the pages of loose leaf paper spread out on the floor of the off ice with the awful mauve accents. He and Jillian had been here for two days, and he was never happier to not have a laptop. He had survived med school, ridiculed for his handwritten notes, but remembered everything far better than if he had typed it. An d now this spreadsheet was taking over its eighth page, and he never would have accomplished this with the best notebook program. Jillian watched while he organized and wrote and drew arrows in multiple colors. He started thinking out loud, Okay, reca p: Joseph Finklestein had lupus, Bertha Martin was a leukemia survivor, and Beatrice Weitzman had a kidney transplant and was on immunosuppressive drugs. Jilly picked up. No other transplant patients here, according to files, the Levinsons, and patient report. No HIV positive patients. No one even close in immuno status. So that gives us a set up but what it? She chewed on the end of the marker she was holding. Normally that would have driven him nuts to watch, but he was too keyed up. He coul dnt sleep last night. And now he was running on pure caffeine. Go over Eddies case with me. Jillian nodded and started rattling stats again. She was better at that than any doctor he had ever met. Stomach ache, reported by wife, at seven days p rior to death, vomiting at six days, Desperately, Jordan tried to push it out of his mind that this was Eddie she was so carefully reducing to a series of numbers and isolated incidents. But that was what would solve the case. Admitted for dehydration , in E.R., at day five. Given IV fluids and Raglan for nausea. Seemed to be doing better but was mildly disoriented and complaining of sleepiness. Nurses report that he was very sleepy and slept a good portion of his time in the ward. Nothing unusual t here. Files indicated normal white counts, CBC and full Chem Panel show nothing out of the ordinary, in fact all numbers are very normal. Day three, patient goes to sleep and wife reports that hes difficult to rouse. After medical intervention, a CT scan is performed and it is determined that the patient slipped into coma during sleep. On day one patient is put on ventilation due to oxygen sats being under eighty four percent, and on day zero, all brain activity stops, and staff performs heroic meas ures to no avail. Patient dies at 2p.m. Jordan sighed. There wasnt much he could do at this point except sigh. He had arrows drawn to and from what he knew. Joseph Finklestein hadnt had vomiting. His decline had taken nine days from first compla int to death. He had died at the home, with a very short delay between slipping into a coma and simply passing away while waiting for transport to a full medical facility. Jillian opened the reports again. Aaagh. He looked up, hoping that it was a good aaaagh, but apparently it wasnt. These guys were on so much medication that you cant tell what changed and what didnt. Just tracking their medication would take a whole flow chart like that! Then we do it. Her eyes widened, and she almost looked scared, which was about the funniest thing he had thought in days. Jillian scared of paperwork. She begged, Only if you do it. I cant do that . . . whatever youre drawing. I need a spreadsheet. 51 Can you do this on a spreadsheet? She sh ook her head, her mouth moving to the straw of the supersize coke she was drinking, while she rubbed the sides to remove the sweat. Her scrubs bore the stains from the water drips where she had rested the drink on her leg earlier, and in this heat he didn t blame her that she didnt care. He sat up to be close and spoke low; he didnt want the Levinsons getting tipped off that this wasnt an official investigation. We still have to get Landerlys signature on this. The only way I feel relatively assu red that that will happen is with a solid diagnosis. She nodded. Her voice pitched lower as well, but for an entirely different reason. Do you think were seeing SuperAIDS? She didnt want to scare the Levinsons. Shit. He barely breathed it. I hadnt even thought of that. His pushed his fingers through his hair and looked again at the gaily colored chart. Immuno compromised patients. She shook her head. The set up is right. But the play out isnt. Jordan waited for her to continue , he agreed, but wondered if she was following the same angle as him. Flu like symptoms at onset match, but not the lack of time lag, although thats always been hypothesized as the new trick up the virus sleeve. Then coma and death. The issue is, tho se cultures should have shown not just something but . Right, HIV doesnt kill you. Its what AIDS allows to get a foothold that kills. So, no superAIDS. He was on the floor again, spread out with his paper. Hed been here for their whole stay, getting more and more ragged looking. Jillian had stayed up at the desk, but her posture had gone to hell in a handbasket. She was slumped in the chair, bringing her head to the coke instead of vice versa. Her knees pressed together, and her snea kered feet turned at odd angles resting on the shaggy caramel carpet. Her right hand played incessantly with her ponytail and if her mouth wasnt speaking it was gnawing something, the straw, the poor pen. Hed never seen her like this. Then again, th ey hadnt yet had anything they couldnt solve with a report and a spreadsheet before. The only real trip they had taken had involved a case with clear answers once they looked at it from a few angles. This theyd tipped over, looked underneath, and shak en down, and only the barest of glimpses of ideas were falling into place. Okay. It was just a small statement, made on a tiny breath, but it was the beginning of a change. He sat patiently while Jilly straightened herself, and pulled a well worn fo lder off the desk. Clear out some papers, flow chart boy, here goes. And she rattled off a list of about thirty medications, making him mark in a different color any that had been prescribed within the last month prior to death. Joseph Finklestein had two. Increased dose of Lipitor, and Prescription Naprosyn for pain, because Ibuprofen was upsetting his stomach. Bertha Martin had one, Cephalexin for an imagined ear infection. And Beatrice Weitzman had no new scrips in that time. Between the three o f them they were on forty different medications, and the number was only that low because so many overlapped. Jillian set down her soda with a clunk and opened Eddies file, her fingers expertly shuffling through reams of loose paper, never letting any fall or even slip out of place. Ready? She rattled off a short list. When she closed the file, Jilly joined him on the carpet, scanning the flow chart. She watched and pointed a few times while Jordan cross referenced and drew marks and asterisks bet ween any duplicated medications that showed up. But they didnt seem to yield any new information. So the nursing home victims had been old? They knew that already. Not a single medication or even medication category cross referenced to Eddie. Eddie w as close to med 52 free. They checked lifestyle markers then. But as expected, the three Levinson Home victims all cross categorized nearly perfectly. Leaving Eddie the outsider, and thus the key to the whole thing. Jillian ran her fingers down the list again. Cephalexin. She pointed to Berthas quadrant of the chart. Why was she on it? She fingered open the chart and looked puzzled. Ear infection. Thats probably what tipped them off to staph. She thumbed through the tome, coming up with the prescription date. No good indication of an ear infection though. Mild redness thats all. Jordan frowned. That bothered him for some reason he couldnt put his finger on, and he followed a hunch out to the courtyard where Maddie Levinson was ho sing down the plastic furniture. She smiled when he approached, which he had to admit was a very magnanimous gesture at this point. He and Jilly had taken over her office for three days now. But she just offered him lemonade and asked, What can I help you with? Do you have a minute? Im looking for some of that personal information that I thought might not be found in a medical file. Her eyebrows raised, but she quickly set aside the hose and wiped down two chairs offering him the first before s ettling her large frame into the second. She still seemed wary until he asked the first question. Bertha Martin was prescribed Cephalexin for an ear infection she didnt seem to have, just five days before she died. Do you know why that was? Maddie l aughed. A clear vibrant sound accompanied by her slapping her thigh. Yes, I know why. She wiped at her eye where a small tear had formed, although he wasnt sure if she missed her houseguest or had just laughed too hard. Bertha was ornery, at times. And she insisted she had an ear infection. Wouldnt quit her caterwauling until the doc gave it to her. He finally relented. Shed had enough ear infections that she probably knew. And Joseph Finklestein. He was changed from Ibuprofen to Naprosyn also within the last few days before his death. Why was that? Her expression sobered right up, and Jordan didnt doubt that her answers were as accurate as any could be. She knew each of these patients, and hed lay odds that the woman couldnt do simp le algebra but could rattle off every dose of every medication every patient here was on, and put even money that she still knew the old doses, too. Joseph started getting headaches right then. We didnt think anything of it at the time. So he said the Motrin wasnt really helping? She sighed, her shoulders doing a soft heave before she went on. He didnt really say it. He didnt communicate well for the last several months. But he kept grabbing his head, rubbing his temples, and . . . She c ouldnt find the words so she showed Jordan. She shoved her shoulders up under her chin, and put her hands behind her ears, shoving them forward rubbing the bone where her skull met her neck. He watched. Headache, maybe. Ear pain. Maybe. Thank you , Maddie. He stood and offered his hand, which she shook politely. When he entered the office, Jillian looked up at him, and Jordan launched into a shortened version of his discussion with Maddie, ending it punctuated by Jillians Wow. Will you ca ll my cousin Kelly and ask her if Eddie had ear pain? He continued. I think we can safely say that we have something new, that isnt airborne, and weve been sitting in it for three days. 53 D avid hung up the phone. He had to. His ears were ringing. If Greer so much as got one iota more excited the earth was going to shift on its axis. The eggs were a true find. A full clutch, almost all intact. Yada yada yada. And McCann, Tennessee was a hotspot. He turned over a specimen, eyeing it carefully. His old man would love to get his hands on this piece of history. But that was too damn bad. The testing was showing up just like the Warren Fault pieces. Heavy iridium layer at the KT boundary. Reversed magnetics in all the pieces. What was killi ng him was the size of the spot. It seemed so small. From his fathers work he had believed, as his father always had, that the hotspots had to have a certain size, a critical mass, in order to carry a reversed magnetic field. Something there had to sup port it. Had to keep it out of alignment with the field of the earth as a whole. That implied some level of size. But this didnt come anywhere near close. He and Greer had practically gone door to door asking if anyone had an oil rig in their backya rd, which had sounded retarded as all hell the first three times he asked. But sure enough, folks were friendly, and by the end of day three, they had awful stomach aches and forty two core samples, giving David a nice view of the strata around his dig. And here he sat. Wishing he had stayed longer. That he had known the horrible nausea and vomiting would disappear the next day. Because every oil well sample had come up negative. No magnetic reversals in any layer. Add in that the lab staff had don e the experiment blind. None of them knew what he was looking for. Just the series of tests, and that was it. So he sighed at the core samples. They had given up all their secrets like cheap whores. And he was done with it. Depressed almost to the po int of tossing it at the trash. While he had his hotspot, none of this was going to accomplish much more than remind everyone that his father had seen it first. Damnit. J ordan pulled his decrepit Chevy into the CDCP lot right behind Jillys pert Rav4 . They had stayed at her apartment last night, still going over the paperwork. Landerly would be back in a day. They had to get prepared to explain. To make their case and make it stick well enough to get fired. Together they had hovered over Ji llians computer, filling in the codes for the visit and symptoms. They labeled and sorted and listed evidence. They spent hours searching for linked cases and only came up with three in addition to the four they started with. And even those only looked similar. There wasnt any evidence that was close to conclusive. Then they wrote a paper for Landerly explaining why they had forged the signature. Documenting how many times and when they had tried to get it legitimately. And here Jordan was: pulli ng into the parking lot, papers printed and sitting on the passenger seat beside him. Whether or not they would save his ass was still up in the air. He and Jillian met again in between the cars where they parked. Took deep breaths together and then w alked down the hall. Reaching the office felt like they crossed a finish line. Jordan wanted to hunch over and gulp air. He wasnt cut out for lying. Within a minute they silently took 54 their seats and turned on the monitors on the desk, pulling up thei r files. Jillian looked up at him and smiled, her nod indicating that they were going to be okay. The movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention just seconds before the loud clap of their door slamming open caused all his muscles to instant ly clench. His heart plummeted when he saw that Landerly was standing inside their office. Well, those were his feet anyway. It took Jordan to the full count of ten to force himself to look up to Landerlys face. The voice was old and soft, and anyth ing but calm. You two have some serious explaining to do about a signature of mine that I dont remember being on the continent to sign for. There was a long lull, then they both began speaking. Dr. Landerly, we had so m uch evidence We tried so hard to get in touch with you His leathery hand, palm out, put an end to the words frothing from their mouths. Ill talk to you separately. He pointed to Jillian. In my office, now. As Jordan watched, she stood as th ough pulled by strings. Her expression that of sheer horror. And then she walked out the door followed by Landerly, who didnt so much as glance Jordans way. For long minutes, he sat there, unmoving, still digesting what had happened. Landerly should nt have gotten in until tomorrow. Had someone tipped him off? Had he come back early to corral his renegade peons? Jordan knew he was going to get fired. That was all there was to it. He considered himself too much of a man to get up and start pack ing his belongings, not until he was actually told that he was fired. But it wasnt beneath him to let his gaze wander around the office, falling on various objects and cataloguing what was his. The phone buzzer shocked him to life, his heart missing several beats before picking up a steady rhythm again. Gingerly he lifted the receiver from the cradle, Hello? Abellard. Get in here. He winced, Okay, but it was too late. Landerly had already hung up and Jordan was holding a phone that was soft ly buzzing a dial tone at him. He hadnt been this afraid of getting spanked since elementary school. At least then he had put smoke bombs behind the toilets in the girls room and the whole thing had been fun. The hall felt long, and Landerlys offic e was closed, forcing Jordan to grip the knob and open the door on the scene of his own demise. Jillian sat in the visitor chair across from where Landerly lorded behind his desk. She was ashen and looked like she had early stage Parkinsons, fine tremor s snaked their way down her arms and out her fingers. Anger broke in a tidal wave as Jordan looked her up and down. Landerly had tormented her. He turned to let the old man have it, but was brought up short by the bark that Landerly leveled at him. Is it true, what she tells me? He had to force himself to take a deep breath. Ive never heard Jillian lie. That put the old mans eyebrows up. So you orchestrated all this? By yourself? I realize that I am not the genius here, and that this ploy may seem a bit above me. And, no, I didnt orchestrate the whole thing. But Jillian didnt speak any lies to anyone. Jillian has many talents. Lying isnt one of them. Landerly snorted. Forgery apparently is. 55 Apparently. Jordan knew he was shoveling the hole he was standing in. But he couldnt stop himself. Tell me if that paper was three years old you would have recognized that it wasnt your signature. Jillian gasped, but at least it earned him a respectable nod from Landerly, who the n began talking right over Jordans thoughts. If youd like to not get fired effective immediately, you had damn well better explain this and why you couldnt wait until I got back, and it had better match Dr. Brookwoods story exactly. Jordan thanke d God Jilly couldnt lie worth shit. He knew their stories would match word for word. So he took a moment to gather himself, watching her visibly relax as he did. They would be here a while. Eventually Landerly interrupted. Same thing she said. Th e two of you using company policy to support your illegal trip . . . Jillian paled a bit at that, and Jordan put his hand over hers where it gripped the spindle arm of the chair. Theyd at least be fired together. Are you going to hear us out or not? Landerly nodded and managed to not interrupt again for the remainder of the story. He was silent for several minutes after Jordan finished. Finally he placed his soft leather hands on the desk and leaned forward, somehow managing to invade Jordans pe rsonal space from over three feet away. One: we never had this conversation. I dont know about that signature. I assume someone else okayd your trip. Two: one slip from either of you and I will suddenly find that paper, and recognize the forged sign ature and youll be out so fast your head will spin. Jordan digested that. It actually sounded like they werent getting fired. Three: you drive out tonight. Theres another case that sounds like the same thing in the Appalachians. Youre going to an area just south of Knoxville, McCann County. Another case? It was Jillians voice, though hard to recognize, it was shaky and soft and lacked all her normal confidence. Yup. Finally Landerly leaned back, Well name the disease after you two as punishment for this escapade. Now get out of my office. Go home. Pack and get your asses back here by five so I can hand you the paperwork. Yes, sir. His voice was strong, even if his belief wasnt. And Jilly was falling all over herself to th ank the man whose name she had so expertly forged less than a week ago. She was gesturing wildly and Jordan reached up to pluck one of her hands out of its flightpath and used it to drag her out of the office. She trailed him down the hall, hand still tucked in his, getting tugged along. When they got to the office she released herself from his grip and sank like pudding into her wooden swivel chair, leaning it back and bringing her hands to her head as though she could hold all the thoughts in. I ca nt believe he didnt fire us. Yes, and were not waiting around to let it happen either. Jordan grabbed her purse and handed it to her, before yanking her up out of the chair. Ill drive, youre in no shape. In seconds he had pulled her down the hallway, waving the ID card miraculously still in his possession at each coded entry and finally emerging into the bright sun. Jilly raised her hand to shield her face, then pawed inside her purse for a moment before producing sunglasses and keys. He p ulled the keys from her hand and dropped them back into the leather bag. You shouldnt drive. Ill drop you off then swing by and get you on the way back. No, really, Im She cut herself off when she saw how badly she was shaking. All right, than k you. 56 He settled her into the passenger seat of the crappy little Cavalier, then closed her in and jogged around to the drivers side. Do you think Landerly said You go first. He braced his arm on the back of her seat and looked out the re ar window while he backed out of the spot doing all he could not to lay some serious rubber on the pavement in his hurry to be away. Do you think were really onto something? That there really are more cases? Jordan sighed. It has to be. The only alternative I can figure is that Landerly is sending us into the mountains and a hitman will follow us. You know, so no one will ever find the bodies. So, were going up into the Appalachians. I have to say Im freaking out about that. Jilly look ed sideways at him again. Why? Ive seen . J illian listened to the deep sigh Jordan heaved into the door of the car. In sleep, he had wedged himself between the seat and the window, stuck at an awkward angle that seemed to bother only h er. His remark about being sent to McCann County to meet up with Landerlys hitman ricocheted in her brain. But it morphed as it went. Landerly wouldnt need a hitman; McCann was itself Purgatory, or so it would seem. The Rav 4 bounced along the ho rrid road, and Jillian had thoughts about not getting reimbursed for the damage to her car. She tempered them with thoughts about not getting fired. Darkness had come to cover them like smog while she drove, along roads that needed little instruction. B linking to keep her eyes open, she was assaulted by the bright glare of a green interstate sign bouncing her brights back at her. McCann, 1 mile, population 232. That was telling. That they included the population on the sign. And that the population i ncluded a significant digit in the ones spot. Ouch. Jordan had been right about . Jillian looked at the glowing digital numbers on the dash, they were going to arrive early, and she wondered how that could be possible. The drive had seemed interminable; she couldnt even sing to the radio to stay awake, not with Jordan sleeping in the passenger seat. Their turn was highlighted by a small brown sign atop a metal post, with one word McCANN and an arrow pointing the only direction there w as to go down the dirt trail. She had the distinct feeling she was entering a land where a sixth grade education would be considered intelligent. Jordan bounced around in his seat, his shoulders and head periodically knocking about. Surely he would wa ke right up, keep her company. But he didnt. When she felt the frown cross her face she realized that she had been anticipating his presence. Landerly had done a good job putting the two of them together. They communicated well about what needed to b e done, and they worked well together to be certain that it was achieved. She hadnt ever felt that Jordan wasnt pulling his own weight, nor had she felt shed been carried. And he was good company. Which was more than she had expected. Most people ha d found her cold and distant, and she understood that. 57 Pretty much she was cold and distant; she lived in her own world where the need to achieve drove her every waking moment. Funny how Jordan had become her personal life now. He had other commitment s and friends in the outside world of Atlanta. In the few weeks he had been here, he had made more connections than she had in all her five years at Grady and in Atlanta combined. On the way out he had taken time to call his friend Martin and cancel his Wednesday night racquetball game. For a brief moment she had regretted that she didnt have anyone to call. The road went on forever, made worse by the fact that it was little more than ruts in the hard packed earth and any sort of speed was an unattai nable goal. At least it had been used recently. Small bushes and grasses had been flattened in the middle of the parallel ditches that had yet to pop back up and look alive. Beside her, Jordan finally stirred, his eyes opened, his jaw worked and his voi ce uttered a soft, Before he shook himself fully awake and realized that he knew exactly where he was. In that moment he began apologizing for sleeping through such a long portion of the ride. So make it up to me by checking out the map to James Hanns place so we can get the key to the house where were staying. Jordan complied, looking over the hand drawn lines that Hann had faxed to Landerly earlier today. Google had come up with nothing. Not surprising since McCann itself didnt registe r on most maps. According to the shakily scrawled fax there were five roads in McCann. Parson, Main, Lintle, Shields, and Squirrel. Jillian had to admit that Squirrel bothered her. And that, of course, was the road where the rented house was marked with a wavery X on the map. Jordan turned the map one way then the other, I take it were on Main. To the best of my knowledge. Her casual shrug was lost in the movement of the jostling car. Trees had closed in over the road, overgrown and hang ing low, scraping the top of the small car. It was either romantic or horrifying and Jillian squashed the urge to look into the backseat for stowaways. She was searching desperately for road signs, and when she was ready to sigh with weariness and frustr ation, Jordan pointed low. A hand lettered wood two by four was nailed to the base of an old tree. That was good enough for her. And she cranked the wheel of the Rav4 hand over hand, wishing that she was already at the house on Squirrel. T he road was even worse than Main, if that was possible. Branches whipped the windshield at a ferocious pace, slowing them even more. Just when she was ready to comment, Jordan broke the nearly rhythmic sound, Landerly hates us. He does not ex pect us to return. Jillian had to laugh. It was that or cry. Shed had no more sleep than Jordan, and while she was glad they werent fired, never had she imagined this kind of sick punishment. Just then the trees broke, and a small house stood proba bly a half mile back off the road. No front lawn or porch lights illuminated the outside, but lights were on in the windows, and given that it was approaching eleven, Jillian was willing to turn the car down the gravel driveway and take her chances that t his was the Hann residence. A porch light flashed on in welcome even as she pulled up next to the garage. 58 In the dying residuals of her headlights Jillian noted the dilapidated horse barn and matching shed tilting precariously in the background, but h er attention was diverted by the older man walking down the stairs. He looked nicer than what she had expected in these parts. His jeans were clean and unpatched, like his red plaid flannel shirt. And his face was just enough weathered to appear kind. She plastered on a smile and threw open the car door. But he spoke first. You must be Dr. Brookwood. Miss Greene didnt tell me you were so pretty. His smile reached his eyes and he held his hand out to her, somehow managing to convey comfort and fri endliness with his remarks. He held out his hand again as Jordan approached. Im James Hann. And I have a set of keys to our rental house. Just come inside and Melissa will get you a drink. Jillian started to protest, Oh, thank you, but Jordan s elbow in her lower back cut her off and his voice overpowered her own, That would be great. Its been a bit of a drive. So she bit off her retort and followed the two men up the short stairs. The inside of the place reminded her of her Aunt Lenoras house. There was a whipstitched cover for the Kleenex box in the shape of a church, complete with a steeple and open doors. Sampler pillows dotted the old brown couch in shades of pastel, broken only by the hideously yellow crocheted throw. James int roduced his wife Melissa, a woman who appeared to be in her fifties like him, who brooked no protest about popping out of her seat to get drinks even as he settled in. Jillian let Jordan handle all the talking, since he was the one who had accepted this i nvitation anyway. She felt herself drifting asleep with her eyes open until James Hanns voice cut through the filters she had thought were turned off. Yall are married, right? While she tried to hide the startled look she was sure had materialized on her face, all thoughts vaporized at Jordans immediate smile and knowing nod. Of course we are. Snapping her jaw shut, she turned to stare at him. Then worked furiously to cover the expression that she knew had clouded her eyes. If there was one thing she had learned at the CDCP, it was that Jordan said some wild stuff, but he could be trusted. So she forced a grin, praying it looked less demonic than it felt. His smile was far more genuine, and he reached across to lightly brush her fingers. Jilly decided to keep her last name. Dr. and Dr. Abellard . . . well youd never know who was who. Hann accepted the iced tea his wife was holding out to him without even acknowledging her presence, which of course prompted another negative reaction that Jillian fought hard to tamp down. Then she was discretely passed a bumpy glass full of tea and garnished with a lemon and a mint sprig. Garnish! At eleven thirty at night! And Jordan smiling and talking about them being married. It was the damn t wilight zone. I noticed you dont wear any rings. Jordan held out his hand for Hann to inspect. She just couldnt wait to hear this. Ive got a bit of a mark from it. Jillian couldnt see anything but a pristine ring finger, but she kept her mouth shut. We cant wear our rings when we work. They get caught on the gloves. He smiled at her again, and she saw genuine humor in his eyes. He knew that she had no idea where he was going with this and he wasnt goi ng to explain. And Jilly here wont let us bring them on trips. They might get lost. So she turned back to Mr. Hann and nodded as if she agreed. You know. Theyre too important. 59 James nodded to her conspiratorially. Melissa would have my hide if I lost mine. In a few minutes she had guzzled her tea, far thirstier than she had known she was. Then Jordan was taking her hand and pulling her up off the couch. He had the keys to the house on Squirrel firmly in his other hand and the Hanns blessin gs. Mr. Hann watched from the doorway, while Jordan folded her into the passenger seat of her own car, then smiled as he held his hand out discretely for the keys. She slipped them to him, wondering even as she did it why she was going along with it all. A smile and a wave later Jordan had them turned around and bouncing back up the driveway, and Jillian could keep her mouth shut no longer. Were married? He laughed. This is not like Atlanta. They just rented us a house and theyd probably rescind the offer if they had known we werent married. Sin is sin. What? Did you see all the God stuff in there? He looked both ways for the non existent traffic at the end of the drive, They would have insisted that you stay with them. Is that what y ou wanted? Youre serious. He just raised his eyebrows and held up the keys to the house. The keychain read Well, holy Mary, mother and Joseph. She hated when he was right and she didnt have the wherewithal to even catch on. It was fifteen minutes of relative silence later that they parked the Rav4 in front of the rental. Jillian fought the urge to cry. It was straight out of the Apple Dumpling Gang. Weathered wood siding, hanging loose in several places, the porch had a slight tilt to it, and in the windows she could see curtains with red roosters prancing back and forth. She prayed that the beds didnt sag too much. Jordan hopped out and reached into the backseat to grab both duffle bags and headed t o unlock the front door. Following right behind him, she was assaulted by the stale smell and stagnant air in the place. Jordan made a face that must have mirrored her own and immediately dropped their luggage and went around opening the windows. The ni ght air was a welcome addition into the house. Jillian wandered the place, snapping on lights. The kitchen was a countrified hell roosters covered every surface. Wire mesh lined some of the cabinets in a way that could have been charming were it not part of the whole overdone theme. The hallway boasted a linen closet that was stacked with chenille throws and a variety of outdated floral print sheets. The one bathroom was cramped and pink, but Jillian thought the sink looked about as good as any cou ld right now. The faucet handle didnt give when she turned it. And so, with a much harder crank, she sent the thing spinning and started a horrifying series of moans and gurgles that culminated in a brown thick liquid spewing from the faucet. Now t hats what I call hard water. Jordan laughed from behind her. Jillian spun around, furious not at him, but that things could be this bad at midnight when she hadnt slept in four days and hadnt even begun to unpack. She started to turn off the offendi ng spigot, but Jordans hand on her shoulder stilled her, Let it run, itll clear up. With that she turned and left the faucet to its own devices and started opening the doors at the end of the hallway. One was a master bedroom, if the term was applied loosely. The bed was 60 queen sized and looked like it had been furnished from a barn somewhere. The other bedroom sported a single pressed into the far corner with only a lone pillow and no headboard. Ill take this one. Jillian went back for her b ag, but Jordan beat her to it and argued chivalrously that he would take the smaller room. In a few minutes she got him to concede and he lowered her bag to the floor, then called from a little further down the hallway The waters good now, bathrooms al l yours. Shed have to see that clean water to believe it, but sure enough, when she re entered the water ran clear and pristine. Except for a smudge in the bottom of the basin there was no evidence of the sludge it had been turning out a few minutes ag o. Rapidly she brushed her teeth and scrubbed her face before heading back to her room and changing into her flannel pajamas. The bed both called to her and repulsed her. But exhaustion won out over unfamiliarity and she lifted the layers of sheets an d blankets to slide beneath. She was rolling over to punch the pillow when the world dropped out from under her. Eyes wide, she sat up and promptly slid off the end of the bed where the foot of it had fallen out from under her. She just gave up. Mumbli ng swear words, she yanked the covers off, and tromped down the short hall dragging them after her. Jordans door was ajar and he was centered on the large bed in a draping sprawl, t shirt and sweatpants bunched in a way that would be uncomfortable to all but the truly tired. Jillian sighed. Scoot over. 61 Chapter 6 Chapter 6 D avid reached into his pocket and felt like a fool. But he smiled at the stewardess and ordered a scotch even as he corrected his mental error to flight attendant. His fingers tightened around the three inch wide cylinder he had shoved there earlier. There were four more in his carryon, each with one end covered in plastic and tied down with a rubber band. He figured if he made so much as a false move hed be shot by those plainclothes police officers that were supposed to be flying around as protection for regular US citizens these days. The core sample he had taken from the McCann hotspot was hardly a weapon, unless someone used it to publish his data before he did. But he had wat ched the guy in front of him in the security line get a travel shampoo bottle confiscated and get rebuked for trying to get these things on the airplane. How was shampoo even dangerous? Yet here he was with a solid, eight inch long piece of hard rock i n his pocket. That could do real damage upside someones head Thank you. He accepted the scotch from the smiling blonde in the navy suit with the tie neck cloth that reminded him of his cousin Esters Girl Scout uniform. He shouldnt even be about the damage he could do with the rock club. He just prayed they didnt arrest him when he hit the ground. Removing his fingers from the core sample he aligned his napkin with the edge of the tray, then the glass into the corner created by the sc alloped edges pressed into the paper of the napkin. It was a habit he had inherited from his father that and the habit of picking up rocks and trying to hear them speak. This one was begging him not to let it get confiscated. This one, compared with t he four nearly identical pieces in his bag, was the whole reason he was on this stupid flight. Why he was headed back into McCann County again. He brought the glass of scotch to his lips, glad that it had been a smooth ride, and that no one had caught his error in bringing the rocks on board. At least, not yet. The top layer of each was made of looser dirt, not packed in by eons of hard rain and pressure and walking animals. Yet it still had the tiniest amount of scrap iron in it. Not as reliable as the riverbed sediments. River silt would line up as the poles dictated. In water, the magnetic shards were free floating and excellent indicators even hundreds of thousands of years later. But these loose pieces should have had just an overall trend th at was statistically significant. These had far more than that. No one had to crank the numbers to see it. Students had pointed it out as they analyzed layers for him. Wow, Dr. Carter. Whered this come from? Near an MRI machine? The cores were fr om Whartons dig site; they showed hotspot activity from sixty five million years ago. And today. The mystery kept growing the more he looked at it. After he got off the plane, it was only thirty minutes before he was on interstate 75 headed north. It was all getting too familiar, and he found himself at the little run down motel on the outskirts of Farragut, which was on the outskirts of Knoxville. The Whippoorwill Inn sported a sign that clearly revealed it had once been a Best Western. David was ce rtain that the Best Western Corporation had disowned this bastard stepchild a long time ago. The man behind the counter remembered him though as he walked up to the front desk and inquired about a room. For a brief moment he panicked that maybe they we re full, and then what would he do? But he almost laughed out loud as the thought slipped away. Farragut was hardly a convention center. The only thing that might fill this place up was a wedding. And he had serious 62 concerns that most of the weddings a round here involved shotguns and noticeably pregnant brides, so he pushed that idea out of his head. His watch said it was barely 5pm home time, and he was already exhausted. He shook his thoughts out as he turned the key and let himself into the room. It was as stale and washed out as he remembered it, and he decided that he should take his luck escaping the airports with his specimens intact as a sign from the Gods. He would only do what the Gods told him to do for the rest of the day, and right now they were telling him to get some sleep. He had just stepped out of his shoes when his cell phone rang, the clear digital tones strangely discordant in the time capsule room. When he didnt see a name on the panel he almost refused the call, only his close co workers and a few friends knew this number, and the phone should have recognized them. But he let the phone go through another whole cycle of ring and wait before he remembered that 865 was the local area code, meaning someone here was calling hi m and that was just too freaky to not answer. Hello? Yes, Im looking for a Dr. David Carter the second. This is he. . The combination of his personal line and formal name. The tight, upper classy sound of the female voice speaking to him. There was a soft sigh on the other end of the line before the voice resumed the formal words that werent telling him much. My name is Dr. Jillian Brookwood. I work with the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, and were running a sur vey regarding McCann, Tennessee. There are credit card receipts and several residents that state that you visited recently. She paused and David realized that he was supposed to fill the space with an affirmation or rejection. He cleared his throat. Yes, I was there. Im going to record this call if thats all right with you? The CDC was on the phone with him and wanted to record the call? And werent they in Atlanta, not Tennessee? So why was the call from a local number? He felt stupid sayin g it, but rather than badger her with his misgivings he just said sure. If it was a prank he would have detected that thick southern accent in the air, right? There was a small click and she resumed speaking. One moment. Dr. Jillian Brookwood, of CD CP Lab G12067 . . . Her voice faded away from him as he realized that she was recording all the information for the call. It was about as interesting as the legal disclaimers after commercials, but he snapped to when he heard his name. Dr. Carter, you were recently in the town of McCann, Tennessee, correct? Yes. What was the purpose of your visit? That made him pause. This was likely someone trying to get information out of him regarding his dig. It was personal. About how long ago were y ou here? She was in McCann. About three weeks. And how long was your stay? Her voice came over the line cool, professional, detached. About three weeks. He barely paused before speaking again and making a point to interrupt her. May I ask what this call is about? Certainly. Have you had any nausea in the past few weeks? Wait. What is this about? 63 Were doing a survey He cut her off again. Why dont we do this face to face? Im sorry, sir, I wont be able to get to Chi cago in the near future. Im in Farragut. Now?! He almost laughed at the surprise in her voice. With just her tone she seemed to agree with his feelings, Yes. Ill be in McCann tomorrow. I can come to you, tonight even. Where shall we meet? He only knew of one place and it was a hole in the wall right next to his cheap motel, so he gave her an apology before he gave her the address. She told him shed be there at eight and she hoped he was stayi ng close to his hotel. Then he hung up and lay back on the old creaking bed. That was just too weird. He closed his eyes and the alarm immediately malfunctioned and went off, causing him to swear. He smacked it and got up, going into the tiny bathroom to retrieve an alarm that actually worked. He pulled it from his bag and stared at it for a moment, 6:50. That was . . . 7:50 local time. , hed actually been asleep. A lot of good it had done him, too. He had all of ten minutes to get himself together and go convin ce the CDC lady with the tight assed voice that he was not diseased. At least she had sounded offended about being in McCann. That was a definite bonus in his book. David set the clock back down and looked into the mirror. That was all it took to convi nce him that he needed to wash his face. If for no reason other than to wake himself up. If this CDC chick was the real deal, then maybe there was something interesting going on and he should pay attention, and he headed next door to the greasy spoon. W hen he entered, an older woman said hello to him. Clearly as friendly as she could be, but she didnt offer him a seat, or ask what he needed. He was expected to seat himself. Each seat looked about as appealing as the next, and that wasnt a compliment . David crossed the small room and pulled out a vinyl covered chair that allowed him to see the door. And by the time the lady had walked up to him and asked, Unsweetened tea, right? and he had been shocked that he was remembered, a woman was walking i n the door who looked as out of place as he did. The waitress smiled her toothy grin and said, Hi, honey, to the woman, then walked off to get his tea. David stood, surprised by what he saw. As she came closer, clearly unsure who he was but guessing c orrectly, she tilted her head and examined him. She was much younger than he had expected, and while her voice had been all authority and questions, now on sight she was unsure, clutching the notepad and pen she held to her chest just a little too tight. Are you Dr. Carter? Yes, I am. He stood up and stuck out his hand in a gesture that was way too formal for the setting. And you must be Dr. Brookwood. Its nice to meet you. She shook his hand, a firmer grip than he had expected from someone so young. They settled into a formal position, looking ridiculous, trying to keep an air of business decorum over a plastic tablecloth that looked like it had lived a past life as an abused picnic blanket. He was going to say something, but the waitre ss lady, who still had yet to introduce herself, turned up at his side, and asked Dr. Brookwood What can I bring you, honey? 64 The doctors black eyebrows went up. Do you have any bottled water? Sorry, honey. But we got bottled coke. The waitress didnt even have the wherewithal to be offended by the unspoken suggestion that the water should be imported. That would be great, thank you. He glanced at his own glass of tea, a tall old yellow glass that had the lemon pre squeezed into it. The CDC chick wasnt drinking anything handled here. And suddenly he wasnt quite so thirsty. David swished at the tea, wondering what came next. But he didnt wonder for long. Dr. Brookwood opened her pad and spread out a few sheets of a questionnaire. He w as having trouble reading it upside down, and was interrupted by her voice, softly clearing her throat. Shall we get down to brass tacks? And that was it. The good doctor was in her element and was off and running. She started up a tape recorder, a s mall silver thing that looked like a missing part from an alien space ship in this out of date setting. She re questioned him about his whereabouts and the reasons for his visit. He re lied about it being personal. Then she asked him all kinds of qu estions about his feelings. Fever? Nausea? Dizziness? Disorientation? Gastrointestinal upset? Within three minutes the woman who looked and acted as though she was anywhere but Podunk, Tennessee, knew more about him than his mother ever had. Then she started asking him more and stupider questions. Has your stomach felt queasy in the past several weeks, since you returned? David felt the frown move into place on his face. Didnt you already ask me that? The professional mask broke form and the side of her lip curled just the slightest amount. You wouldnt believe how many people can answer the same question five or six times, but on the seventh try they suddenly remember that yes they do have a life threatening allergy or yes, they did ha ve exactly those symptoms. My favorite thing to hear when Im interviewing someone is: come to think of it . . . He almost laughed. Then he heard the words coming out of his mouth and was powerless to stop them. Come to think of it, my friend and I did feel a little sick to our stomachs just before we left. This would be . . . She flipped back through her paperwork, scanning for the answers she had jotted down earlier. Dr. Greer Larson? Yes. Was it mild or severe? How would you rank i t? Dear God, she was insane. All this writing and she wouldnt tell him what was going on. He sat at the table, studying her intently and answering all her questions as best as he could. While she looked up at him only to ask another stupid question a nd another, and furiously recording his answers. Finally she thanked him as she stood up. Please stay in touch. And call daily with an update on your condition if you do go into McCann city. Thank you. He glanced down at her card making sure he had enough information, and looked back up to ask her if McCann actually qualified as a city, but she was gone. There were a few bills on the table, and the bell that had been hung over the door was letting the world know that someone had left this lit tle hole. 65 B ecky knew in her heart that the birds were the next in line to be magnetically freaky, and that the project was no longer hers. She could only hope that they would recognize her efforts and give her a good billing on the paper that likely she would write every word of. She drove herself to work in the old Jetta, hearing the wheezes from the engine that was never quite fully repaired. Her office smelled just a little stale, and she wondered for a brief moment if any of her colleagues had been in. But she pushed herself down into the wooden rolling chair and leaned over the desk. U.T. had sent her to Georgia, and several birds had been brought back to the school labs, using school equipment. She would call the birdwatchers from her U.T. phone providing a record of the conversation. It was officially out of her hands. Marshall Harfield answered on the first ring. And he recognized her name right away. We were wondering when we would hear any news about our Bradys. She tried to keep her voice light, even though she already knew what he would find. I actually have a task for you if you can help us out, then Ill be able to give you more information. The man was overly eager to help in any way he could, and it brought back memori es of being in the woods surrounded by the ABA group, all talking at once. I need you to gather your birdwatchers and a give everybody a compass and check out the areas where the birds first migrated and where theyre settled now. Do you think that you can get everybody together for that? I can do it today. She could almost see him puffing with pride. The manners her mama had drilled into her told her to let him know that it wasnt necessary no matter how much she was anxious for the results. But he stepped in before she could have gotten a word in edgewise anyway. Were having a meeting at three and we can just change our agenda a little bit. Is that okay? I dont want to bother Just tell us what you want us to do. Becky was glad that he was so happy to help. She felt a little less like she had put a chore on him. And she spent a good while explaining how they should map and record the electromagnetics of the area and what they were looking for. Mr. Harfield concluded with a sniff and a well know it when we see it, right? Yes, if there is any activity you wont be able to miss it. I dont suppose you can tell me why it is that were looking for this? She smiled. The man was a goon and always overeager, but he was a sha rp tack. I can. I hope it will be within the next several days. And the information you get this afternoon will help me gain the authority to share what I know. Becky hung up with a sigh, dragged herself to her feet and gathered a few supplies. Th e walk to visit the Warblers wound down a long hallway and around behind several labs. An undergrad was hunched over, muttering to himself when she entered. It took only the briefest of explanations to get him to agree to a break from mucking the crates. Im trying to figure out why theyre so creepy. Well, He laughed, thats a noble endeavor. But one I doubt youll be able to solve. Why is that? Because Dr. Jenkinson has been at these guys since you brought them in. Weve been testing the m with everything we know and cant come up with squat. Ahhh, Becky sighed. But I have the inside track. She went back outside the doorway and gathered up the magnets she had set down just before entering, in a few moments he had one of the warbler s out and Becky had the magnet in front of it. It turned when the magnet was moved. 66 Ho lee shit. You win. You do have the inside track. They tried bird after bird and then finally entered the room with their pockets loaded with as many of the magne ts as they could find. The birds followed their movements, becoming obviously agitated when they separated, taking the magnetic pull in two different directions. So thats why they were all staring at me when I entered. Becky nodded. Actually they s tare at the door all the time. What direction is that? Do you know? He looked around a little, orienting himself inside the building as the thought clearly formed for the first time. After a few motions that Becky couldnt decipher, his brows knit t ogether and he said West northwest. Becky was ready to smack herself in the forehead. Why hadnt she brought the compass? There was something about the way she had come down the hall. The undergrad followed patiently while she mentally retraced her s teps backward from the birdroom, winding up in her office. Sitting in her chair with the empty shelves behind her. . Becky sighed. And only as he responded did she realize that she had spoken. Why are they empty? Because I t ook the frogs home. The breath rushed out of her. The frogs were facing the same way. J illy. Jordans voice broke her reverie and she snapped to with a feeble excuse. I was just thinking . . . Jordan waited, looking at her, watching, as thoug h he might see her thought process. She knew she was a mystery to him, how her mind functioned, what she saw, and how she lived with such a singular drive. But at times like these, he sat, waiting for whatever she would come up with. And she felt the pr essure of him expecting more of her than she was probably capable of producing. McCann was turning out to be more than she could handle. She shrugged at him, giving up. I dont have any idea what to tell Landerly, but we have to phone this in. We hit c riteria. Jordan nodded. Do you want to make the call or me? Are you serious? She would have laughed if she hadnt spent the day fielding the six new patients down with this illness two already at a coma state before she and Jordan got to them. All their families had said was that they were under the weather or feelin a little down. Good God, one family seemed to think the father would just come out of it. Jordan had sent her back to re dress the first morning when she had declared herse lf ready in her suit and labcoat. He had said the good people of McCann wouldnt tell her if she dressed like that. He had made her dig through her bag until she produced jeans and the oldest looking top she had brought. What Jillian understood was that people would open up to Jordan no matter what he was wearing. Dirty little children just asked if they could hug him. She looked around the makeshift lab in the bedroom with the broken bed. Her bag was stashed in the corner; the slanted bed wasnt even good as storage space, everything just rolled off. 67 James Hann had offered to come over and fix it. So she had waited until he declared that he needed a part and that he would come back with it in a few days. Jillian wondered what part one needed to fix an old wooden slat bed. A nail? A screw? And she stared around the obnoxious room feeling desperate. She couldnt come up with a solution or any idea of what they had. She wasnt even sure if it was viral, bacterial, or chemical. Al l she knew was that the weaker your immune system was the more likely you were to get it. And that theyd been living in it for days. Bathing in it? Eating it? Breathing it? And that wasnt anything more than they had known in Florida. Except tha t here they could trace a link. In Jordans bold print it graced the wall the connections from patient zero to the other locals who had come down with it. Not that there was a standard incubation period or anything. Jillian couldnt wrap her mind ar ound it. No matter how patiently Jordan waited on her. And she didnt want to have to tell Landerly that. So Jillian forced herself to trail behind him to the kitchen where the old yellow phone was mounted on the wall. The push buttons were its only bo w before modern technology. If it had been dial up . . . well, she didnt think the CDCP even accepted dial up calls anymore. Jordan smiled at her, the large ugly receiver held against his head, the short coil holding him captive against the far wall of the be roostered kitchen. Hey Dr. Landerly. Breath pushed into her lungs. She would never have addressed him with Hey, Dr. Landerly. But then again, she wasnt Jordan. She listened, waiting for the screech that was sure to come. The questions as to why their assays hadnt showed anything. The makeshift desk top in the lab was covered with test plates. But nothing had turned up. Jordan nodded, knowing full well that Landerly couldnt see him. Yessir. Problem is we hit criteria for quarant ine. . . . about fifteen minutes ago. . . . 19 . . . down or deceased. . . well, yes, but here thats the necessary 8 percent of the population. . . . do it ourselves? . . . . His eyes looked up finally meeting Jillians. He looked bewildered. Sh e was certain his expression mirrored her own as she imagined the two of them rolling yards of yellow tape around the outskirts of town. I thought we would call in a team. How do we hold quarantine with just two people? . . . . The pause seemed inte rminable. The law enforcement? This place isnt a city, so theres no police. . . sheriff? . . . He looked at Jillian, eyebrows up waiting for her to provide the answer. So she did. In a situation like this at least she was useful as a storage and retrieval center for seemingly useless trivia. Just one man and his son. Jerome Beard. How many exits to the town? Jordan beseeched her again, and while she got the original faxed map that James Hann had sent them she heard Jordan becoming irked w ith the old man. No, I do not think better when I repeat your questions like an idiot. Jillian thinks better when I repeat your questions like an idiot. She tried not to laugh as she held up the map. His look shut her up. Jordans face clearly displ ayed that she would be the one making the next of these phone calls. His shoulders slumped and his free hand went to his eyes. Yessir. It looks like four exits. But thats Jillian waited while Jordans teeth clenched, her own lower lip folding in to be chewed on, a habit she had thought she had broken years ago. It sounded a bit like Charlie Browns schoolteacher was on the other end of the line, she could only make out that Landerly was speaking. And since she hadnt heard anything before, she gave serious thought to the possibility that he was yelling at Jordan. If she was braver she would 68 have grabbed the phone out of his hand and told Landerly where to stuff it. If she hadnt landed her dream job with the CDCP right out of her residenc y . . . well, she had to admit to herself that there were enough ifs to leave the phone right in Jordans hands where it already was. Finally, Jordan spoke again. Its a hand drawn map sir. It looks reasonably accurate but to be truthful checking out Mr. Hanns cartography skills wasnt on our list of things to do. So there may well be undrawn roads or paths . . . . well, were in backwoods Tennessee. And these people walk or even ride horses a lot of places so theres no way we can cover all the e xits. . . . Jillian stood there for forever while Jordan talked about the fact that they had checked every criterion they could think of. They were almost out of needles and reagents. All they had achieved was that they could reasonably predict who wo uld come down with it next. Jillians money was on Mr. Parson. He was married to a victim exposure was strike one, was old strike two, and his Chem panel showed that he had a very low TSH strike three But that was morbid. And probably correct. Jordan looked ready to explode. And Jillian stood nearby to offer support, but made a desperate effort to drown out what was actually being said. How long she stood there like that, watching Jordan move his hand from his hip to his temples, switch t he phone from one side to the other, talk about McCann and how little information they had, she had no idea. The first thing that registered was Jillian and I thank you, sir. As he hung up the phone. His stance slugged even a little further down. Hi s eyes all but closed. His back found the wall and he looked up at the ceiling, though Jillian had to wonder what he was looking at. She stepped forward to give him a hug, to thank him for handling that . . . monstrosity of a phone call. For a brief m oment she thought he didnt see her, and she saw her arms extend to him and she saw an awkward moment in the immediate future. But he was Jordan. He saw her coming and alleviated any tension by reacting. Just loosely draped his arm around her waist in a limp return hug and mumbled thank you into her shoulder. Her own voice was stronger, having not just been through the wringer with Landerly. So, what? We just go to BigLots and buy about thirty rolls of quarantine tape and make some makeshift road blocks? Jordan chuckled a little. Something like that. We try to keep the people contained as best we can. More recording than anything else. The backup rural team will be here in two days. Two days! She stood up straight, planting her hands on her hips as she removed herself from his embrace. Yup. Well . . . how . . . oh, fuck it. Im not even going to try to figure that one out. Jordans eyebrows raised again, and his blue green eyes rolled her way. She pressed her lips t ogether. Yes, I know the F word. Then she shrugged. Perhaps the best plan was avoidance. Thank you for fielding that call. Landerly is going to kill us one of these days. Jordan shook his head. No he wont. Hes just going to name this disease after us. So whenever anyone feels nauseated theyll think Brookwood Abellard. Its how I always imagined my life. His tone changed to a little more wistful. People will say, oh, Abellard, like that horrid disease that makes you vomit and die? Jillian was trying to get the picture. Why isnt it Abellard Brookwood? 69 Doesnt sound as good. Oh, and theres a law about discordant names for vicious fatal diseases. He finally looked up and smiled at her, a real, full on Jordan smile. And she was grateful that Landerly hadnt been too much of an ass. We should call and see if we can interview David Carter again. We do need to see him. We need to get him quarantined. Hes been in McCann, right? Jillian stilled. In and out. Repeat edly. Then more quietly Oh, God. Jordan took her hand, pulling her behind him and out the door. Not Oh, God. Everyones been in and out of McCann. And theres no way to track it or to have prevented it. Jillian nodded, guessing that he was rig ht. Her imagination that they were responsible was only partly true, and it was impossible, not to mention improper, to impose quarantine without the proper criteria. Still, Oh God. 70 Chapter 7 Chapter 7 T here was a knock at the hotel room door. David opened his mouth to yell that he didnt need room service, before realizing that room service didnt exist here. And that meant someone was really knocking on his door. He was hardly awake, and barely moving, given that he had spent the day climbing trails in the mountains. Hed been taking topsoil samples and testing them as best he could out in the middle of nowhere. But now he was sore, and slow, and he pushed his hands against the cheap paint job of the door and stuck his face flush against it before realiz ing that there wasnt even a peephole. Well, there was a chain lock, not that that offered him any real protection . . . So he turned the knob, while muttering something about coming and looked out the crack that the chain afforded. Not anyone he kn ew. Just some guy with a sweatshirt on. Are you Dr. David Carter? David nodded, still trying to clear his head, and a slightly familiar voice gave her name before he could place the melody and cadence in his memory. Im Dr. Jillian Brookwood, we spoke a few days ago He nodded and closed the door on the young man, jerking the chain out of its slot and letting the door swing freely this time. Come in. He smiled and pretended he was awake. What can I do for you? For a brief moment he considered apologizing for the state of the motel room. But it wasnt messy, just . . . awful. And he remembered that the good Dr. Brookwood had mentioned that she was staying in McCann, so his accommodations were probably better than either of theirs. He finally realized that the thing nagging the edges of his conscious thought was her voice, offering pleasantries and introducing her partner, who was scowling at David who was eyeing Dr. Brookwood. Dr. Jordan Abellard. So David stuck his hand out a nd pretended hed heard the whole thing. Nice to meet you Dr. Abellard. Are you staying in McCann as well? See, he could fake it with the best of them. Hed had whole conversations with his father where he hadnt paid attention to one piece of the s hit his father was trying to feed him. Yes, Dr. Brookwood and I have rented a house there. Oh, are you married? No. Her voice. Yes. His. But then Dr. Abellard looked sideways at his partner and laughed. Raising his eyebrows and putting his hands up like hed been caught, he confessed. No, were not married, but the people who own the house are very religious. So we told them we were. Ahhh. So the Doc was off limits. That was a damn shame. But David just smiled and waite d. It was Abellard who caught on first. May I sit down? He motioned to the end of the unused queen bed near the door. Jillians report stated that you were doing research in the area and that you had come back for a personal visit. David nodded. 71 I have to tell you that this doesnt look like a personal visit. We havent seen you in town at all. David started to protest, but Abellard raised his hand. Hear me out. . . people are getting sick. David raised his e yebrows in surprise, before cursing himself for giving away his hand. Dr. Abellard nodded at him, acknowledging his slip. Yeah, I didnt think you knew. Jillian looked as surprised as David felt about Abellards accusations. But she had the grace to sink down beside him on the green and gold ish comforter and look up at David questioningly. With a sigh, he fessed up. Youre right. What do you want? People are dying in McCann. This was just getting too weird. The CDC was sitting on his cra ppy motel bed telling him that people were dying in the town he was researching. What is it that they have? Abellards lips were tight. Thats just it. We dont know. He opened his mouth but no sound came and he closed it just as fast. Making Dav id wonder what the doctor wasnt telling him. But he wasnt about to find out. We do know it starts with a stomach upset. And you had that, but you have no other symptoms. So, I dont have , right? David felt the worry festering in him. Ji llian nodded. Wed like your permission to run a series of assays on your blood, testing for the profile weve seen in the victims. She pulled a rubber tourniquet, blood vials, gloves and a huge needle from her jacket pocket. Unlike her partner, she w ent straight for the punch, her eyes looking into his waiting for his yes no response. His chest moved. It was a gesture of resignation. They hadnt mentioned the odd piles of stones stacked in the corner or asked him anything about his research. They only wanted his blood. Sure. Just leave me enough to get a good nights sleep. Dr. Jillian popped up off the bed with a surprising amount of energy, and she was shoving up his sleeve and had the rubber strap around him before he even had his arm fully extended to her. Her fingers were quite gentle given the amount of enthusiasm she had for getting his blood sample. Her gloves slid into place with seemingly no effort on her part, and she pushed the vein with her finger before sliding in the needle tha t he hadnt even seen her attach to the vacuum tube. He felt the pinch then watched as his blood pumped into the vial. After a moment she jerked open the tourniquet allowing him feeling in his lower arm again. Then held a cotton ball over the needle w hile she quickly slid it out of his vein without him feeling a thing. Only after inspecting the blood in the vial and turning it one way then another, did she look him in the eyes. Thank you. . David pushed back a happy thought that she was over eighteen, and he couldnt suppress a smile, Is that all you guys came for? No. David followed the sound of the voice and stopped his musings about the raven haired Jillian, remembering that the two were probably involved. Abellard spoke again. If your business here isnt personal then what is it? Well, actually thats personal. He saw Jillians lips press together, like shed been hoping hed just tell them everything. . 72 All right. Dr. Abellard stayed in his seat on the bed, his head two feet lower than Davids standing height, but not showing any sign of weakness. Let me take a stab at it then: you and your colleague came here to do some clandestine research. And you found something. He turned to see if Jillian had that look on her face, too, but she didnt. She looked surprised, her attention finally pulled away from looking at the blood vial as though she didnt need the te sts but could just read the red ooze itself. Abellard continued. You came back here to do more research Listen, I dont know what the two of you are doing here, but I dont need people prying into my life like this. Whatever blood that bewitching little vampire had left him raced faster, flooding his face with his anger. Abellard held up a hand, palm out. If Im right, then youve stumbled onto something you arent sharing with your university. His expression stayed David from kicking them bot h out the door right then. Barely. And you know something very unusual and significant about an area where people are dying of a disease we know nothing about. . . we dont want to interfere with your research. We just need to know if the two are li nked. We need to save lives. Abellard had him by the short and curlies. B ecky sighed watching miles of interstate roll by and gallons of gas get guzzled on her MasterCard. She had gone around the area west of home yesterday. With her compa ss and her frogs along for measurement. But nothing had happened. The frogs always faced the same way. Just like they had when she had traveled the area south of home the day before. Today was east, and she could see that she wasnt going to open up any new discoveries to take back to the team and impress Warden. She been paying attention to where she was headed, but somehow she was out on highway 144, heading past the old route to the airport. She drove five more minutes with no real movement fr om the frogs before she gave up. And she didnt know how in hell she was going to explain this in an expense report to Warden. Hell, he wanted her five dollar dinners pre approved before hed reimburse them. Aaaaagggghhhhh. The sound of her frustra ted voice startled the frogs in the seat next to her. She had meant to just think it. The little harbingers of the apocalypse looked at her. All three of them, so sweet and froggy and innocent looking. But wasnt there a bible passage about that? Then, of course, there was that whole stuff. Stop staring at me! Yeah, that was mature. Yell at frogs. So she growled at them. And the far one diverted his eyes. Then his head. Then he began a slow shuffle to facing away from her. Becky almost stood on the brakes. She did slap on the blinker and pull off on the shoulder. One of the other frogs shuffled, too. Just a mild reorienting, but way more than these froggies were supp osed to do. Holy . . . She slammed the old pile of parts in gear and pushed back out into traffic, cutting someone off. He flipped her the bird, but she quickly asked Gods forgiveness; she knew shed never get the other drivers. 73 The frogs nose s were all pointing off to the south by now. They faced an area that looked about as well traveled as the moon, and she had been on some of those back roads. Shed be stranded and eaten by cougars, or bears, or worse. She knew one man up there who swore the scientists in Oak Ridge had coordinated the whole thing with the aliens. With force, she shoved her brain in gear. Her frogs should be re orienting at the magnetic halfway point. That meant they were either very close to a smaller site, far from a big site, or exactly as far away from a site of the same size. Becky turned the wheel and followed the frogs noses. J ordan looked at the page from the cheap printer they had brought along to spit out test results. It seemed a shame to get the scoop o n whether you would likely live or die from a ,79 printer that wheezed and beeped like an abused photocopier when it ran out of paper. Dr. Carters results rested in his fingertips at the moment. The only person that they werent sure of until just now . His white count was textbook, and he didnt test positive for anything else interfering with normal immune function. Meaning it was highly unlikely that hed be in the next batch to come down with Brookwood Abellard, as Jordan was already calling it to himself. It also meant the geologist was likely to come around trying to read the slopes on Jilly again. Maybe he just shouldnt start David on the supplements yet, give him a little time to weaken up. While it was supremely tempting, it did violat e that whole Hippocratic Oath thing. Jordan scowled to himself. Instantaneously, Jillys voice reacted to his expression. Does David have something? No, David doesnt. He forced a smile, and forced down the thoughts that were bubbling up about Jil lian. He set the printout aside, stacking it on top of the pages of blood tests from every person in McCann. His and Jillys were at the bottom of the pile, along with a flood of nerves. What we need to do is go out and get the good sheriff and his boy to help us set up the road blocks. Jillians giggles mingled sweetly with the harsh ring of the old yellow phone and, covering her mouth, she ran off to the kitchen to answer it. Jordan knew what she was laughing about, too. In an earlier attempt to find the appropriate methods of shutting down the town, they had set up your basic D.O.T. barricades. Only McCann wasnt a town. So they set up James Hanns two sawhorses at the east entrance of Main, and Sheriff Beard produced a real barricade from the trunk of his cruiser, only it said City of Kingsport in black, sprayed on letters. Neither Jordan nor Jillian had questioned the sheriff on that. Sheriff Beard was McCann born and bred, and hed informed them in a deeply twisted drawl that them bea rcades aint gone keep anyone in or out, folksll just pickem up and go on by. So they had hopped into the Rav4, desperate for a trip out of town anyway, and searched every store they could find, finally stumbling across some old Halloween barricade ta pe reading Beware. Beyond this point lies certain death. Jordan had wound up being the voice of reason on that one. Jilly had begged him to get it and laughed herself into tears. And Jordan knew then that it was true: when the serious ones go, every body better watch out. 74 She came back into the room now, all trace of laughter gone from her face. She took in a deep breath to help expel the nasty thought she was about to speak. Jeb Parsons daughter just found him on his living room floor. He b it his tongue to keep from making the inappropriate response that Jillian should claim that ten dollars she had wanted to bet. She had the first piece of her Trifecta. Jordan pulled up to the conversation on a medical level instead. Hes in a coma? H er head shook slightly. He was dead when she found him. It was only then that he noticed she was fingering the rolls of yellow do not cross tape that had arrived via one very perturbed FedEx driver this morning. His truck was splattered in mud unbec oming a professional. But he had delivered thousand foot rolls of bright red biohazard and yellow quarantine tape, warning signs and corrugated waxed paper road barricades that assembled like cardboard dinosaurs. None of it would keep out a scooter, but i t looked pretty official. We need to go to the Parsons house then and We need to seal up the town. Jillians firm voice pushed his concern down deeper. Mr. Parson went down fast. We need to keep everyone whos in in and everyone whos out out. Until the men in suits get here tomorrow. Then we need to visit Sandy Parson and . . . She turned around to walk out, but he heard her voice from the hallway. pray. They didnt bother to unpack the remaining two boxes of barricade supplies, just shoved back what they had already inspected and threw the boxes into the trunk of the Rav4. They would have what they needed when they got there. Jillian tossed Jordan the keys, and was already flipping open her cell phone and dialing up some number she knew by heart. She paid little attention as she climbed into the passenger side of her own car. Yes, David please. He tamped down the urge to tell her that the polite form of address was Doctor Carter. Then he spent another round of t hought on the fact that she had known the number by heart, and even if he was beginning to think something, he was too late. . And hed better shove it down quick. If Jillian wanted to monkey around with someone it would have to be David Carter the second. Jordan had critical work to attend. The conversation was brief and since the cell reception was so horrible, Jillian had to repeat everything she said at least three times. And Jordan had the whole conversation by the time she hung up. David Carter was not to leave his hotel room unless he spoke to her first. Not them, . It took fifteen minutes to drive the less than mile to the edge of town where Parson became Main. Hanns sawhorses were still there, but true to Sheriff Bea rds prediction, they had been moved. Whoever drove through must have stopped to put them back, the gap wasnt wide enough for a car. Jordan parked the Rav4 right in the middle of the street after abandoning the idea of pulling over, and was greeted by a series of fresh hoofprints, dead center of the slightly widened gap. And he didnt have a guess as to who the hell they belonged to. At this point in the game he wouldnt have been shocked if a Conestoga wagon full of settlers showed up. Jillian joi ned him and silently they each grabbed both red biohazard and yellow Do Not Cross tape rolls and handfuls of wire. They separated and went about a hundred yards out from the road, winding tape around trees and wiring it to branches, sealing off the plac e at waist level. Jordan added tape and wire to hold the sawhorses into place. Someone would basically have to rip his work down in order to cross. He put his hands on his hips, and went about adding another level of tape at eye height. The yellow and red barricade looked flimsy but the tape was strong and wouldnt rip. A good pair of shears would make short work of it though. 75 He wished that just for a moment he could tip his head back and be blissfully unaware, and enjoy the weather and the coming season. But he had worked hard and was still paying good money for the privilege of having his ignorance stripped away. So he simply opened the driver side door and she followed suit. They drove along, neither of them saying a word until they hit the west entrance of Main. The Kingsport D.O.T. roadblock still stood where they had left it, and Jordan looked specifically for horse tracks this time but saw none. Meticulously laying out yards of the tape, Jordan hoped that bei ng this far backwoods they wouldnt wind up with a bad case of media crawling all over them. He and Jillian were both trained in what to say and how to refuse interviews should the news vans appear like vultures circling the town edges. He also knew how to keep things quiet and pray. He was winding the last piece of red tape around the orange and white barricade, when he heard the gasp. Knowing it didnt sound right, but having no other explanation, he looked up at Jilly, who was looking straight at hi m. They both turned to find a redheaded girl wearing jeans and low pigtails with a smattering of freckles just across the bridge of her nose. Jillians expression gave away that she was rapidly searching her brain for a hint of recognition. Jordan knew instantly that he had never seen this girl before. Um? Even with just that sound, it was clear that she wasnt the girl he had first thought her to be. After her next sentence it was clear from her accent that she wasnt a local and she was well edu cated. I think you just taped my car in. . . . I . . . I have lab specimens in the front seat. She looked back and forth. Oh dear God, whats biohazardous in there? Jordans eyes narrowed, she didnt sound scared. But excited. Intrigued. And she was carefully trying to cover it. Jillian didnt catch that. She offered her most soothing tone, a mother to her child after a bad round of nightmares. Oh, thats just to keep people out. As the girl wiped her hand off on her jeans, he watched he r stance shift. She knew what she was about and she held the cleaned hand out to him. Dr. Rebecca Sorenson, UT Biodiversity Laboratories. And you are? She said it with a lilt that upward turn at the end af all sentences that females used to play in ferior to their male counterparts. And she used it very well. Jordan heard the confidence behind it. She had known she didnt look the part. And he glanced down at his own sweatshirt and now dirty sneakers just briefly before sticking his own hand out to take hers. He spoke quickly enough to divert the doctors eyes from Jillys surprised expression. Dr. Jordan Abellard. CDCP Atlanta. He motioned to Jillian, who thankfully now had it together. This is Dr. Jillian Brookwood, my colleague. Beck y. Dr. Sorenson corrected as she slipped her grip out of his and transferred the handshake to Jillian. And just as quickly as she gave a good hard quick stare, indicating that she knew the score and shed play fairly, she spoke again. I wont go to th e media. Thank you. Jillians voice held unknown volumes of relief. Are people sick? Becky looked them both in the eyes again. If he didnt answer her straight he would have to simply say he wouldnt tell her. So he gave her one word. Dying . And ignored Jillians combined look of surprise and disapproval, but he saw that disappear even as he looked away and ignored her. Becky turned the conversation toward him. Like Jordan, she knew an ally. Why arent you in full suits? Then she ans wered her own question. Weve already been exposed. She didnt show the emotion he expected. But he nodded, confirming her answer. 76 Its contagious. Her eyes wandered, focusing far away. And in a moment he realized that she was listening. And sh e frowned. Becky mumbled a word that sounded like warblers but he didnt know what that meant. She looked him in the eyes again. Wanna share? Yes. Jillian hid her shock better this time. Becky sighed. I have a series of mutated frogs and ot her species. Youre standing in a spot that I just realized today when I came in has a reversed magnetic field. Jillians voice finally cut into the conversation. We know. J illian paced the room, finally keyed up enough to ignore her hideous surrou ndings. The bed still had not been fixed. And she desperately wanted to sit on it, lay back and maybe even cry. But she knew from experience that that would lead to rolling off. Which led to humiliation and frustration. And she couldnt sit in that ho rrible little ladder backed chair for another moment. So she forced her feet to keep going. At least she would sleep at the end of this interminable day. The motion served another purpose, siphoning off energy that she would gladly use to fillet Jordan alive. He had simply opened his fat mouth and spouted off to some girl with no ID a good portion of what the CDC knew, and what they didnt. And Jillian had no idea what reasoning he had. If any. Not that they had been able to talk. Jordan had broug ht the girl back with them, and even called James Hann to see if they had a spare room for Miss Becky. Dr. Rebecca Sorenson and her mutated frogs had just left, finally, headed out to the Whippoorwill Inn. And Jordan sat in the wooden chair, re reading p rintouts like the case was closed. Jillian bit her tongue. She swallowed repeatedly. She pressed her lips together, as though that might keep it all down. But she knew better and of course it all came out anyway, with all the harsh air she had been hol ding back. How the hell did you reason out telling her all that? Jordan looked up at her, not at all startled by her outburst. Shes not going to the media. Shes with UT, and Biodiversity could be a big help. Jillians mouth hung slack for a mome nt before she put it in gear again. She had no ID on her. You didnt even call UT to see if someone by that name works there! Shes trustworthy. Jordan remained calm. Which just served to send Jillian rocketing to the other end of the spectrum. Trustworthy!? How would you know? You just met her! He clenched his teeth then slung it right back at her. Would you accept an argument from a blind man about the color of the sky? Uh! She knew she looked and sounded stupid standing there with her mouth open again. And she couldnt shut it off. The offended part of her brain stepped in to fill the void. Blind! Well, Im so sorry I wasnt born with your handy trust o vision, but you dont just blurt out classified material like that. She had done it. She knew it. Jordan snapped, and came up out of the chair at lightning speed. He towered over her, his face close enough to fill her field of vision with the anger and hurt in his eyes, with his chestnut brows drawn tight together, with the clench of his jaw. If we dont solve this, its going to be named after us. And . What would you have me do, Jillian? Refuse help? 77 Her teeth clicked, she brought them together so hard. She turned away out of his space in order to breathe in. And slowly out. It wasnt enough, and she forced herself to do it a second, then a third time. When she had pulled the pieces of herself together enough she spoke again. But she didnt look at him. I may not have that intuition you do , but you should still consult me before you decide to spill secrets. She felt his sigh even though her back was turned. There wasnt enough time. This time Jillian squared up and looked him directly in the eyes. Yes, there was. And if you believe there isnt then you need to find the time. He took a small concessionary step back as his hand came up to comb his fingers through his already rumpled hair. Youre right. His voice washed over her again a heartbeat later. Im sorry. Jillian bli nked in surprise as she felt all the support leave her, and she sank back onto the tilted mattress, knowing even as she did it that it was a mistake. She spread her knees, planting her feet firmly to brace herself against near certain humiliation, and sun k her head into her hands. What if she screws up the investigation? She heard the chair scrape up beside her before she felt the heat of his arm around her shoulders. She wont. She sniffed, and even as she did it became mortified. Hey, dont cry . Well figure this out. With his acknowledgment it became impossible to hide the tears. How am I going to figure this out when I cant even remember not to sit on this stupid bed? She felt the deep rumble in Jordans touch long before she heard t he sound of him laughing, and slowly she joined him. Even though her left leg ached from bracing herself upright. Jillian finally gathered herself, the one concession to her tears a brief wipe with her sleeve. And she pushed herself off the bed and awa y from him before she faced him unable to hold back a final sniff. I need ice cream. She rambled into the kitchen with Jordan following and pulled the carton out of the fridge, ignoring the roosters staring at her while she did it. She fixed two bowls and sat down, We know that it isnt airborne. The chain of infection just doesnt make sense. If its viral or bacterial it doesnt match with anything known. So it isnt contagious. And that leaves environmental as the best guess. She sighed, tr ying to enjoy the food, and grateful it was created outside the town boundaries. But . . . weve checked everything. We have no standard radioactivity. No toxic chemicals. Weve tested the water, the meat Parsons has been getting, the air, the soil. What the hell else do we test? We do have a magnetic anomaly in part of the town. His spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl. Yeah, that magnetic reversal. Its weird, but . . . lets face it, an MRI is about a thousand times stronger than the ea rths field. And thats an entirely enclosed magnetic field. And we put people in those every day, some people repeatedly, and aside from it yanking off your jewelry, there are no harmful effects. Certainly not vomiting and coma. She let a few bites m elt on her tongue, before she started thinking aloud again. It makes more sense that its immunological. Like AIDS was when they first saw it. It attacks people with weak systems. 78 Jordan stood and politely rinsed out the bowl, which she was relativel y certain had a pig staring up from the bottom. But those people tested positive for everything. Ours test for nothing. Is it the weakened immune system combined with the magnetic field? Jillian shook her head and waited while she swallowed down the pat of ice cream she had just fed herself. Immuno compromised patients go into MRIs at five times the rate of non immuno compromised patients, without these effects. How the hell do you know that? He put his hands up. Those cancer patients are oft en nauseated anyway, maybe the MRI compounds it and we just dont see it. She shook her head in time to the thoughts churning inside. Its chemo that makes the patients nauseated, and therere tons of immuno compromised patients that dont have chemo. But even then those patients still dont exhibit ear pain, or coma and death. And if that is our culprit, those people ought to be going down fast and furious because they have far weaker systems than Mr. Parson did. . . Whats actually more than likely is that the magnetic reversal mucked up the machinery or assays and we have something standard but our results arent printing out. Jordans grin crossed his face like a wash of brightness. Thats my girl. H ave you measured the strength of the f ield? Becky rubbed her palms across the knees of her new jeans. Her bank account was now over two hundred dollars lighter due to four days of new underwear, two new pairs of jeans, t shirts and a sweatshirt. All from that fashion bastion WalMart. Neve r mind that she was on lockdown with men in her age range. Men that shed never met before. Men with PhDs and MDs. And here she was dressed head to toe in cheap. Yup. David shook his head at her. And I got nothing interesting. Its the same as the field anywhere. No Bermuda Triangle like force to explain any of this. She laughed, for a moment forgetting the roach that had scuttled out from under her bathroom linoleum and prompted her to knock on Davids door suggesting a professional discussi on. One that involved her being part of numbers greater than the roach. So youre saying Atlantis isnt beneath the Appalachians? His eyebrows raised at her, blond and skeptical. She had already topped the money shed lost at WalMart with a very expe nsive phone call home, and she would have to call Marshall Harfield and tell him there were out of season warblers here, too. She changed the subject with little tact or concern. So how long have the doctors had you holed up here? Only since yesterda y. He turned away, then back. Are we all sharing here? And no one will be stealing or leaking anything until we all go public with it? She shrugged. As long as the government doesnt declare it all classified and shut us down. David nodded. Loo king every inch the son of the Senior Dr. Carter she had met three years ago. And every inch unconcerned about a penny of this trip. He sat on the edge of the gold polyester bedspread that reminded her so much of the one on her parents bed back home and ran both hands through his hair, showing her for the first time that the gold strands were thinning just a bit at his crown. Okay, just outside of town, theres a geological hotspot we found on a dig. When the last polar shift occurred the polarity reve rsed there first. Maybe as little as a thousand years before the poles swapped on earth. Theres another hotspot in Montana. And theyre at the KT boundary. 79 The dinosaur extinction. Becky supplied. When David gave her the slightest nod she kept go ing. Do you think the pole reversal is tied to the die out? He put his hands palm up as though asking for divine inspiration. My partner, Greer Larson is a paleontologist, and he thinks it may be, but were still not sure. So, do you think were on our way to another pole reversal right now? She spoke in that slow southern fashion she knew belied her education and, at times like this, her concern. I dont know. He was upright again, unable to contain his nervous energy, his docksiders wearin g a circular pattern on the already threadbare carpet. But you have a gut feeling . . .? You look like thats your professional opinion but not your personal one. David faced her, his eyebrows up again, his mouth quirking, but only on the one side. You and Abellard ought to get along great with your little insights. David sank next to her on the saggy bed, and him ceasing to move lowered the tension she didnt even realize shed been building. So? The short answer is yes. I do think wer e sitting on the next pole reversal. But according to our past data it may take a few thousand years. As best we can tell, were due in any day now. Of course, even our best estimates are give or take fifty thousand years. But within the past years the poles have begun shifting. We dont have any historical evidence Excuse me? Becky leaned toward him. The poles are shifting now? Our north and south? Yup. About twelve years ago it was discovered that magnetic north had moved. Just a little, but enough. Four years later it was even further off. Its sliding fast these days. Geologically speaking, of course. Wow. She breathed in, aware of her own functioning just for a second, absorbing what he was telling her and shuffling it cleanly in with her own information. They just slide right around? No. As best we can tell, they do start sliding slowly, but individual hotspots reverse first. Weird little pockets of backward magnetics. Like here. Then as the hotspots become more numero us, they meld and, eventually, in a bang, the poles snap. Instantly magnetic north is south and south is north. Her own backyard would then be a hotspot as David put it. There really might be the rain of frogs the scientist in her was so skeptical of . You dont have to look so disturbed. Its all just a theory. Of course. Her whole life was based on just theories. And the competing ideas are? He ticked off the possibilities on his fingers as he rolled his eyes. Our data sucks. All t he samples were actually from riverbeds. Meaning a meteor could create that pull. Or an Atlantis like anomaly. Or were all retarded and were just so anxious to see something that were fucking up our samples. Yeah, Im sure that one went over well with your Dad. David made a hard choking sound. And Becky continued. I met him once. He was a nice man. But he didnt seem the type to take that kind of disparagement from anyone. David went back to talking rocks, brushing aside her reference to h is father. Then the last alternate theory is that were right. Thats exactly how it happens, except weve got our dates off by, oh say, twenty million years. I see. 80 He scrubbed his face with his palms, blinking a few times with the rush of red he had worked into his features. I was going to go the Montana site, where the KT hotspot was and see if theres a hotspot there now. But Im quarantined. And United Airlines doesnt give a detained in quarantine by the CDC refund. He turned and look ed her in the eye for only the second time since she came here tonight, and she sensed it coming. Her turn. So whats your story? 81 Chapter 8 Chapter 8 S hove over! It was tired and drawn out, and Jillian pushed against his back with all the strength in her a rms. It wouldnt have been enough even if she had been fully awake, completely stress free, and stronger. Jordan asleep was a rock not worth her effort. Jorrrdaaannn. It was the wail of the insomniac. She had heard it on her rounds as an intern a nd now regretted that she hadnt found more sympathy for the sufferers. And now her mind wouldnt shut off. They had called FedEx at midnight after frantically separating portions of the blood samples to send a full set of all they had collected to the A tlanta Office for re testing. Just in case the machinery was warped by the almost non existent magnetic field. Mike should be faxing them the results this morning and then Landerly and the quarantine crew would arrive later this afternoon. Becky wante d to spend the day catching frogs. Jillian desperately wanted to inspect these biological specimens Becky was going to get. Check out the habitat. See if there would be any clues to the mysterious Abellard Brookwood disease. But in order to traipse th rough the woods she would have to get a good nights sleep. And in order to get that, Jordan would have to shove his lead butt over a few damn inches! She gave another heave against his back and accomplished only the barest of deep sleep acknowledgments from him. Shed stopped asking James Hann to fix the other bed. How could she push him to repair it? Tell him that she didnt want to have to share a bed with her ? She punched at her pillow and tried to find comfort and sleep on her small wed ge of mattress. Forcing her thoughts to her puppy George from childhood, she willed sleep to come and found herself thinking of her mother instead. What would Mrs. Brookwood say if she knew her daughter was in bed with a man she wasnt married to? Hell, her Daddy might just jam the business end of his twelve gauge into Jordans back and walk him to the altar. She was too exhausted to decide if that thought should make her laugh or cry. At last, as the light brightened, sneaking around the shades and further into the room, Jillian felt the heavy weights of rest pulling her eyes closed. Jilly. The soft whisper was accompanied by a warm hand that fit on her shoulder and rocked her gently. She felt the low tetany of a hmmmmmm tremor through her che st but didnt care enough if she actually made the noise. Jilly, baby, I need you to wake up just a little. This time the shake was firmer, and this time she made sure she was heard. No thank you. She rolled away. The hands rolled her back over. Her eyes popped opened and her features scrunched against the piercing light. Baby, Mr. Hann is chacking the pipes in the bath. Jordans face was only inches from her, and she felt the wash of jealousy over his chipper alertness. Until she remembere d that she was the one who had paid for his heavy refreshing slumber. And then she hated him for it. , She forced her voice, now that she knew why he was being so oddly affectionate. You almost shoved me out of our bed last night. I know. Im s orry. He sat on the edge of the queen sized mattress, taking up the space she had occupied just a few minutes ago. Thats why I let you sleep in so late. He pointed to the clock and the blurry red digits proclaiming it was already well past eleven. Why dont you go back 82 to sleep? I just didnt want you to wake up and be startled, or walk into the bathroom and find Mr. Hann in there. Huh? She shoved up, leaning back on her hands, unconcerned that she could hear James Hann in the other room futz ing with the broken bed. Or that she was in a sleepshirt and the covers were rolling away. Her face felt pushed and shoved in wrong directions and her eyes still didnt open all the way. Jordans hand cupped her shoulder again. Why dont you just go back to sleep? I just didnt want you to wake up and be startled, or walk into the bathroom and find Mr. Hann in there. Im awake. But the thick slurring of her words said otherwise. Her movements were slow and awkward. Jordan was able to push her back down without much resistance. He pulled the covers up, tucking them around her shoulders in a gesture that almost made up for the bed being taken over last night. When she felt his hand brush her hair back off her forehead, she understood with certai nty why the spider bite girl in Florida had loved him so much. Her eyes rolled open and shut a few times over the next several hours, and only on the surface of her mind was she aware that Mr. Hann had left, and Jordans footsteps were carrying to her mo re as vibrations than sounds while she tried to find the will to get up. Jilly? You do need to get up now. In dim light she saw him check his watch, though she hadnt been aware that she had opened her eyes. Landerly will be here in about an hour. C old water could not have been more effective. And the insulting remark to ask why he had not woken her sooner was barely stopped in its tracks by her brain. By force of will she pushed out the words she really meant. Thank you for letting me sleep in t his morning. Its the least I could do after playing hostile takeover in my sleep last night. She glanced back at him and held her tongue again, but only because he had the decency to look sheepish. She was in the bathroom before she called back to him , Did Hann get the pipes all fixed? No. They still squeal but they work. Well, itll wake me all the way up at least. She started to close the door but his voice stayed her hand. I got a call about fifteen minutes ago. Gemma McKnight went down this morning. She stepped back out of the bathroom, concern on her face as her arms folded across her chest. Dead? Only comatose. He looked away, sadness painted on his features. They both only knew of one way out of this coma. She breathed in d eep of air that felt fresher than almost anything shed inhaled in her life but was probably deadly. Gemma was only borderline on her labs. She turned to go back into the bathroom, stopping just short and turning back to Jordan, excitement bringing her back to the living. Unless, of course they were wrong. He just shook his head. And didnt look like he was going to say much more, just planned to stand there with the borrowed coffee mug complete with roostertail handle. She waited him out while he sipped at it, until he finally conceded to her stare and explained. Mike faxed the results in this morning. Number for number they are dead on to ours. Nice choice of words. The shower was less than refreshing, and she found herself on the edge of being flat out angry. There was nothing in this godforsaken house that was comfortable. And every time she encountered another person in this town of the damned, things went awry. They got sick. They 83 delivered the news that someone else was down. Seven people had died and fourteen more were comatose. Wrapping herself in a towel, Jillian peeked out to find the room vacant and closed the door tightly before dressing. She hadnt worn jeans this often since she was an undergrad. Leaving her hair ha nging wet down her back, she padded out into the kitchen to find Jordan at the small round table eating a bowl of frosted flakes. Giving in to the urge to make only the most minimal effort, she grabbed a bowl and spoon. Then she lined up a row of eight p ills of varying sizes and shapes, and one by one washed each one back trying to ignore what they meant. They ate quietly and she was sure that his thoughts mirrored her own. Landerly was coming. And they had nothing good to tell him. No leads. Every r oad a dead end. And townspeople dying. One by one. Her thoughts strayed to the CDC vans that might even now be turning off the interstate and she prayed they had the wherewithal to arrive in differing unmarked cars. And at different times. Even just t hat many normal cars headed into McCann could raise someones suspicions, but a white CDC caravan would have the press on them like flies on dead meat. She started at the sound of a car pulling into the driveway then bouncing the long distance to the ho use. Jordans gaze caught hers but they still didnt speak. Landerly was here. Jillian abandoned her half finished cereal and hit the front door, coming to a dead stop when she spotted the yellow space suit climbing out of the van and approaching he r. What had she been thinking? Of course they were in full suits. They had no idea what this was. She might have been showering in it. Or sleeping in it. Or inhaling it. If not simply getting it from touching, and being near those who had it or had already died from it. She stood in the open doorway, feeling Jordan just behind her, only he didnt give off the waves of shock she was sure she emanated. Landerly. His voice was strong and she could feel the heat from the coffee mug he again cradle d. Abellard. Brookwood. Landerlys voice from inside the bubble hood was distorted. As though it had been yelled through a pair of paper cups and a string. We have a full DeCon tent set up at the perimeter. Are we clearing the town sir? Jill ian upped her volume, even though she knew he had a microphone to collect sounds from outside the muffled interior. Not yet. His head shook even though the bubble faced suit did not. We talked with Drs. Carter and Sorenson on the way in today and we have them running a full magnetic check of the town. Then well clear anyone we can out of the reversal area. Jordans voice carried from over her shoulder. Do you think it will do any good? Landerly held back a sad smile. No. But we need to do i t anyway. Jillian fought the urge to defend their work. But she wished suddenly that she hadnt found the excitement that she had come to the CDC searching for. Do we need to go through DeCon? Get suits? No suits. She should have known it. They d already been exposed to the point where Landerly didnt see the need to waste money on them. But he kept talking, interrupting the morbid river of her thoughts. He was looking at the house. Damn, this thing is ugly. 84 You should see the inside. Jordans grin was evident in his tone, and Jillian wondered if he really thought it was funny or if it was a set up on a cruel practical joke. All right, you two need to pack everything thats personal. Leave the CDC set up and gather all the paperwork. Do that first. He turned and walked slowly and painfully to the van. When it became clear that Landerly had explained everything he was going to, they simply headed back inside to begin their first assignment of packing up the files. What the he ll is this Jordan pulled up short at the door to the lab bedroom. A suit stood in the center and pretended not to hear them or actually didnt. His back remained turned and he snapped photo after photo, inspecting each one on the small screen on his digital camera before turning his focus to the next thing. Jillian pressed up on tiptoe to spy on the rendering of the most recent photo and was startled to see that it was of the wall charts, and clear enough to read every word. She grabbed a set of papers and when she turned she smacked into Jordan again. Hey. Sorry. But she didnt look up, focused only on the pain in her nose and holding the tears at bay. Although if they were from the sting to her face or her pride she was unsure. She fe lt her arm jerk in the socket before she realized Jordan had a death grip on her elbow. Its not that. He stayed still and silent until she acknowledged him with a clear gaze. Dont be sorry. People are dying here. Just dont go tripping and brea king a leg or getting an open wound. Nows not the time to stress your immune system in the slightest. Oh yeah. Landerly sending in the suits and giving us crazy orders that we dont understand doesnt stress my system at all. Only to herself did sh e admit that her sarcasm masked a very real fear. Jordan still didnt loosen his hold on her arm. Ill get the rest of the papers and you start packing. You have more to pack than I do anyway. She resented the underlying sexism in the remark, until she admitted that it might not be biased but simply truthful. Her arm was free and so she didnt look up but concentrated on the ground in front of her as she headed off. Her hands and feet worked independently of her head, folding and rolling her clo thing and stuffing it back into the duffle bag and she remained silent. Jordan appeared at her side with his own bag and together they went to the front door, encountering Landerly coming up the walk. His gait in the suit gave away his age, and Jillian w ondered what it was about this case that got him out and about. Wasnt that what she and Jordan had been hired to prevent? I was just getting ready to see what was holding you two up. Jillian opened her mouth to protest that it had been barely fifteen minutes since they had been ordered to clear out, but Jordans hand grasped at her wrist. Not that it mattered anyway, Landerly was talking again without paying the slightest bit of attention. Weve got teams checking out the three cases you pulled a s evidence two of them appear to be the real deal. And therere another two cases in Florida in that nursing home that I you two to visit while I was in Hawaii. Youre going back. Jillians mouth hung slack, but she managed to keep it from gaping. Her eyes went wide with real fear. None of the ideas she had had about Landerlys packing them up had to do with the possibility of further outbreaks. She had almost forgotten the Florida cluster. The entire nursing home had been exposed. She shook her hand, loosing it of Jordans now tighter grip that had threatened her circulation. 85 Landerly kept talking as though neither of them could possibly need a second or two to assimilate the damage and possibilities he was laying at their feet. You ll pick up Dr. Carter en route. Hes already back at his hotel packing, as hell be going with you to check out the area. Dr. Sorenson is staying here and will be working for the CDC obtaining wildlife specimens. We need everything you can gather on th e Deltona cluster. See if we can crack this thing. Its getting ugly. He turned away, finished. Two suits emerged then from the back of the van, and from the looks of the gesturing all of the files had been duplicated. Jordan took her duffle bag f rom her nearly slack wrist and went to throw it in the back of the Rav4, only to be stopped by a suit. Jillians brain was working too fast to think about where she was going. So she set herself behind Jordan and followed like a little duck wherever he w ent. The cluster in Florida was growing. That indicated either contagion or . . . continued toxin exposure or . . . or a bizarre vector or . . . or . . . long incubation period. And that was the worst, that would mean far reaching spread. The way A IDS was all over before anyone knew it even existed. Lentiviruses, or those that remained inactive long after infection, could be serious to society simply because the spread was undetected for so long that tracing the path from victim to victim was nigh unto impossible. With a start from her morbid thoughts she realized the afternoon sky was a shade of blue you couldnt see in the city, and the autumn trees were alive in reds and golds she hadnt seen in a long long while. I m sorry, youre going to have to fill me in on what the fuck you two are babbling about. David leaned forward, saying what he wished hed said an hour ago. The two of them had sat with their heads tucked together speaking English with enough Latin thrown in to be damned obnoxi ous. It was giving him a headache, and stress in his shoulders. And worse, it made him feel under educated. They looked up at his comment as though only just then realizing that he was on this plush flying den with them. And he almost stood up and wa lked to the back of the room again. He could just help himself to another scotch. Or he could stand his ground. What can we tell him? Jordan spoke as though he wasnt there. That cretin had the hots for Dr. Brookwood, too. But the more David watc hed the more certain he was that there wasnt anything actually going on. What he was uncertain of was whether the hot doc returned the feelings. She shrugged and frowned and pursed her lips, and if they werent flying straight into the pits of hell retirement haven, Florida he would have been turned on. I dont know. She looked away from Abellard and up at him, causing him to realize that he had in fact stood up. The CDC had appointed their private Lear jet quite nicely. The seats were pale leather, and cushy as hell. And in the back was a full bar that he had been the only one to avail himself of. For a brief moment he entertained the thought that Jillian wasnt yet old enough to drink. David, what level of security clearance do you h ave? Jillians voice was sweet but off, a perplexed honey bringing him back to the bizarre reality he was in. He smiled a smile that spoke of the scotch hed already had and the one hed like to have next. I have no idea. Let me know when you can spe ak to me. 86 It was Jordan who proposed an answer to the dilemma. He must have some sort of emergency clearance. Landerly sent him with us. He looked up, not having moved from where he had swiveled his own seat to sit all cozy with Jillian. Landerly is nothing if not logical. Ill take the heat for whatever we share with you. He cant mean for us to keep you in the dark. David took the seat next to Dr. Brookwood, willing to give up the scotch in favor of a little maneuvering. He was upset to find that he liked Dr. Abellard, but that didnt mean he wouldnt steal sweet little Jillian right out from under him. Well, from the looks of things, she hadnt been under him yet. With effort, he redirected his thoughts and focused on Jordan. What is it that I need to know? We have a spot of reversed polarity, which is weird as hell, and people in that spot are dying of something we cant classify. All our tests are coming up negative. If its a virus its got a protein coat unlike any weve ever se en before. All the assays are missing it. Jillians voice broke in beside him. We cant find anything with microscopic analysis either. But you couldnt have had the best equipment there in McCann, right? Jordan nodded, True, but weve been send ing samples back and forth. The Atlanta office cant find anything either and theyve got the best machinery anywhere. David soaked in that for a second. It sounds like youve got your hands full, and I have to say that I have no idea why Im even her e. Jillian had stood and was stretching, the only one of the three of them to be able to reach full extension in the plush but midget height fuselage. Youre convenient? You wound me. Yes, but Ill bring you another scotch to soften the blow. So he asked it. Are you even old enough to serve scotch? Her eyebrows quirked, but Jordans voice carried to him, over his shoulder now because David had twisted as Jillian climbed over him and made her way back to the bar. Shes a physician, you kn ow. He twisted back around, Yeah, but maybe shes really accelerated. It happens. Jillian interrupted them to ask David again if he was going to take her up on that scotch. Right as her hand appeared over his shoulder handing Jordan what looked like a gin and tonic that he hadnt even asked for. Jordan smiled and said thank you, before meeting David in an eye lock that said he had some idea what the geologist was about. Whatever. In a minute he had his scotch and Jillian settled in beside him with a margarita. So? Upset stomach? Then coma, then death. David thought that was way too simple a way for a person to die. No bells, no whistles, no grand symptoms. Are you serious? As a heart attack. And its contagious? Jordan shru gged and lifted his drink in a long swallow that revealed more about his tension than his words or manner. It was Jillian who stepped up, filling in the holes. We can trace transmission from person to person. But with a small town like McCann that real ly doesnt mean much. At this point quarantine is mostly to keep tabs on everyone whos been exposed. We cant begin to hope to control spread at this point. Jordan and I are headed to Florida to pool the new data with what we have. Are they evacuati ng McCann? 87 As we speak. She said it like it was somehow her fault. So he changed the subject. What if the Florida site is a hotspot? Then weve got some serious problems. Jillian set the unfinished drink aside and pulled a blanket out from und er the seat, as though she had known all along that it was there. Covering herself, she turned away, tucking her feet up under her. Jordan swiveled sideways and pulled out a sheaf of papers to leaf through, leaving David with his own thoughts. And he didnt like them very much. Hed had an upset stomach when he had visited McCann the first time. So had Greer. And it had passed. Did that mean hed been exposed? Was he now immune? The CDC didnt seem to be worrying too much about these two docs, al though they all had been put on a regimen of medications. Then again, maybe it was just too late to do much more than medicate them and pray. And David didnt put much stock in prayer. It hadnt yielded anything of value for him before. He tapped Jord ans shoulder, impatient for the millisecond it took the doctor to acknowledge him. Are there carriers for this disease? We have no idea. We cant figure out anything except that weve never seen it. The symptoms arent like anything we know so we c ant even assume it will act like other things of the same family. He looked back down at his papers, then up again, Why? He almost couldnt say it. My friend Greer had upset stomach. Worse than me, when we were here the first time. Hes gone home to his wife, whos pregnant. Could he pass it to her? I have no idea. Im sorry. Somehow Dr. Abellard managed to look like he actually sympathetic. Yet within a second he was back to thumbing through his papers and jotting down numbers on a mi niature legal pad. David sank back in his seat, inadvertently swiveling it he let it rock gently back and forth, sustained in an almost harmonic motion by the flight of the plane. His scotch turned wet and slippery in his hands, leaving him no choice bu t to polish it off before the ice melted and it became even more of a soggy mess. He reclined the chair and, in minutes, sleep rolled over him, taking him to a foggy place with gravitational forces from all sides, and fossils that contained writing instea d of bones. M om, Im good. Becky shoved a hand through her hair, realizing that she was overdue for a shower. Her mother had started with Im afraid that youre going to get sick. And like a well written essay, all you needed was the topic sentenc e. The rest was just the jabberings of a mother well practiced in the art of worry. Becky listened with only half an ear, waiting for a break in the tone or speed, hoping to get a word in. Im eating, Mom. In fact, the CDC is monitoring my diet. Ev en you arent as strict as these guys. Becky left out the part about the medications they were feeding her and the men in the yellow space suits. I need to know about the frogs. Are Brandon and Mel taking good care of them? Yes. They went out and caught a few more just yesterday No! Mom, dont let them out there! Why is that? 88 Becky felt the gloved, yellow hand on her shoulder. They were monitoring the conversation, as Becky was still waiting for an emergency clearance status. The agent listening in was one of the conditions of phone privileges, lest she spill the scary beans. Mom, that area mutated the frogs. She didnt lie, she just didnt tell the truth. I dont want the kids out there without me. And I need Aarons new ce ll number. I tried his place a few times and got no answer. She pressed her mother to go just a little faster, without revealing that an agent was standing over her shoulder, or any other little tidbit that would scare the woman even more. Becky spoke about three more words before artfully extricating herself from the conversation, a skill perfected out of necessity. The space suited alien didnt comment, he simply took the portable phone out of her hands and walked out of her tent, locking the door behind him. Her bizarre forced vacation was turning into the equivalent of Siberian work detail. She had actually been digging in the hard earth with a pick earlier today. If she had worn metal ankle cuffs with links leading to the next digger she could nt have felt more imprisoned. At least the CDC had even seen fit to send her three little rana along with her. The poor frogs were even more incarcerated than she. Each in its own little terrarium, always facing the heart of McCann. Becky hadnt lear ned much from her digging. The underground species seemed unharmed. But the local amphibians were whacked out, the newts and salamanders suffering the same kinds of fates as the local frogs. The frogs she had pulled here were, in general, four legged, but not any luckier than her first batch. The majority of these guys were blind, and many were pale in color, making it a wonder that so many existed. Pale wasnt a good camouflage color, so animals like that were often picked off by predators first thi ng. And the sheer numbers of these guys that were bordering on white made her wonder if they tasted bad or something. Good, another thing to do tomorrow. And here shed been afraid shed get bored. Tamping her internal sarcasm back down Becky made th e mental effort to realign her thoughts. First she had to call Aaron while it was still early enough that he would answer his cell. She stuck her head out the door and asked for the phone again. The guy looked at her like she was a bother, and Becky ha d no doubt that she was. Aaron answered on the first ring. And she explained more than she had to her mother. Dont let Mel and Brandon back there. I know they want to play . . . but . . . But what? Aaron had never settled for the Im the auth ority, do as I say answer. And he had rubbed one person in town the wrong way with that over and over their father. But now, Becky wished hed give her a bye just this once. But she gave him a little more information instead. Frogs develop theyre born. So the environment affects that. Clearly is wrong there. And Brandon and Melanie are still developing themselves. So please, just keep them out. Sure, sis. There was a pause, and even over the phone she could hear his brain gearing up to ask a harder question. Does this have anything to do with the other area you found and your little extended research trip? Becky sucked in a breath. The yellow suit sitting and listening in this time wasnt the same as a few hours ago . So she risked that they would cut off her phone privileges and just said, Yes. And before he could ask anything more, she jumped in again. I need you to do me a favor. 89 Is this one of those no questions asked favors? And when the bodies start piling up, Im going to get disbarred kinds of things? Becky wondered why hed had to use that reference to bodies. As if he knew more, or could read more from her tone, than he was letting on. So again she just said Yes. She tried to put a little l augh in it, but she wasnt that good of an actress. The yellow suit man gave her a stare, but she shrugged at him, like And she asked Aaron to go out and recheck the boundaries of the site. Becky, are you in trouble? Am I going to regret this? His voice was a hiss and the irritation and tired humor that had spun through his words even just a few exchanges ago was gone. Aaron, Im okay. It was the best she could tell him, not knowing if she was sitting around waiting t o die. And you might help a lot of important research with this. Thank you. He said a quick good bye and hung up. Looking up with a conjured smile, Becky handed the disconnected phone back to the suit, knowing theyd return with it when Aaron cal led her back. And she waited. An hour later the suit came back in with the phone. Hello? Becky? Why the hell did I have to go through some sort of security check to get to you? Aaron was clearly worried. And there was nothing she could really do about it. Because you did. Hows the site? Nothing. She could hear the chirping of cicadas in the back ground and the usual woods noises. He was there now. So its all the same. She let out a breath, startled by its release. No, theres nothing here. The compass needle doesnt move at all. I walked the whole boundary twice. Her brows pulled down, and her fingernail tried to compete with her words for space between her teeth. So north is north and the whole site is just a staked out boundary? Looks like it to me . . . wait. No, north is still south according to the compass. He sounded as perplexed as his words were making her. But its not changing at the boundary line. Not like before. It was real clear, now . . . nothing. Her heart raced, throwing a lump up into her throat. She couldnt even think of the implications of what Aaron was telling her. So she asked the obvious. Can you find the edge? Through the cell phone connection she could hear his boots crunching through the undergrowth. Already looking for it. . . wait. Got it! Where are you? Where is it? About ten feet out. God. Aaron, just get out of there. Go home. 90 Chapter 9 Chapter 9 J ordan woke to the sound of sledgehammers keeping cadence inside his head. It was their third day here, and nothing was new. Oh, except the mysterious Brookwood Abellard had struck Florida again. One of the coma victims had slunk off into quiet death yesterday morning. And fate was claiming another. Maxie Londers had only had ear pain prior to this. But quickly the vomiting that had begun at four a.m. had changed and Maxie was now on a ventilator, awaiting her turn into the kingdom of whatever god she chose. He ached for the Levinsons. Art was less obvious in his gr ief than Maddie, but maybe more touching for that exact reason. Rolling his face into his pillow, Jordan made a half assed attempt at self suffocation. He should get up and brush his teeth and get dressed like every other day of his life. But unlike eve ry other he would breathe a little harder down Davids neck, begging and praying for a resolution to this thing. On the one hand he wanted the problem to be the magnetic reversal. Problem solved. The bug they couldnt find didnt exist. Not their fault. But that would leave holes of uninhabitable space on earth. Surely all the hotspots couldnt be in North America, right? There had to be others elsewhere, right? And at that point the problem went way out of his scope. Hell, it had been out of his sc ope a week ago. David was trying. Becky was trying. Jillys fingers were about bare to the bone and his own back was about to break. He could simply cry foul and give up. He and Jillian had kept sharing a room, leaving the second free as workspace. So he could just not go into the workroom again. Simply ignore all of it. Its like theres nothing here to find. Her voice was soft in the false darkness created by the blackout curtains. It came from over his shoulder and the rhythm and timbre told hi m shed been awake for a least a while. Ive kicked myself a dozen times this past week for not being a pediatrician. He couldnt suppress the small laugh, and he finally rolled to face her. Somehow she was bundled under the covers with the look of a c hild huddled against the cold of winter. What do you say we just leave and go set up a practice together? Wed be good. No, were just missing something. I know it. He sat up, letting the sheet slide down him, fully awake. If Jillian thought there was a connection they were missing, if it was niggling at the corner of her brain, then he trusted that it was there. She sat up too, holding her head as though to keep the information from sloshing out. Theres a numbers issue that were missing here. Jordans feet hit the less than plush carpet and he started pacing, energy renewed at even this slight prospect. We arent at quarantine, and were way too populated here. Its too high profile to swarm down in yellow suits. No, its not about quara ntine. Its about numbers I somewhere. They needed to be up and dressed and in the other room where all the numbers were lined up in neat rows and gathered on charts waiting for them. He forced a deep breath into his lungs. Im going to get dresse d and go down and grab some food, then Ill bring it back 91 No. It was positively frantic. You cant leave me alone. Just keep talking to me. Its like a word on the tip of my tongue. She was throwing off the covers and stepping out in her shorts pajamas that sported a squinty faced red head and the words . At another time it would have made him laugh. Okay. And even as he extracted himself from her grasp she re clung to him. Whats wrong, Jilly? Are you all right? She waved her hands in front of her face. Its here. And if I dont solve it people will die! The starch left him. Perhaps Jillian didnt have any answers. She just had fear and guilt the same as him. Let me go into the bathroom and get dressed. Then well go down and get breakfast. He didnt mention numbers again or solving anything. He didnt really think they would. Ill change out here while youre in there. He nodded. Even in a panic, and buried under a brickload of guilt, Jillian was efficient. Clo sing the door behind him, Jordan allowed himself a brief measure of time where he could ignore the fact that Jilly was close to tears just beyond the wall. And that the hallway door would only open to a host of other responsibilities and problems. They wa ndered down for the continental breakfast, and were heading back, food balanced in their hands when she stopped, almost causing him to put steaming coffee down her back. Room numbers. She pointed at the numbers they were passing with each door down the hallway. But not numbers. With no warning she went from off to on and started back down the hall. Not numbers. Again she muttered, and Jordan knew that he would be the one to set down his carefully balanced breakfast and fish out the magnetic room key. She was passing him into their room when her head snapped up. Room colors! He nodded, his brain catching on to her excitement. As though he, too, could now see light at the end of the tunnel. He just didnt know what was producing that light. T he Levinsons color coordinate the bedrooms so the guests dont have to remember anything but their color. She ungraciously unloaded her food onto the side table. All the patients were in color coordinated rooms. And if we go back and check Ill bet the yre all at one end of the house. He mentally tabbed through what he remembered of each of the patients, calling up a face, and a mental picture of the room. One blue, one pink, one purple, all at one end of the long house. They were all in the north e nd. Even the new ones. They nodded at each other with Jordan supplying the words. Another physical anomaly. But then why hasnt David found anything? Heavy breathing sounded in the open doorway over his shoulder and Jordan leaped around to find David hanging in the gaping space, sucking in air even as he spoke. David has. What? Jordan took in the wrinkled and filthy khakis and the bags under his eyes. Whatever David had been up to he hadnt been dressed for it. There is just now a start of a r eversal at the north end of the house. Its a small spot. With a small field. Why didnt we see it before? Jillian walked toward David, but it was Jordan who handed over his coffee with an I didnt drink any of it to a grateful David. Im used to seeing this stuff in deep layers. Theres a history of reversal here, but no one ever recorded it before. All the strata tell the story. But, right now the top layer is showing the shift, too. Not my forte, but I found it. He took a sip of the steam ing silt water and had the wherewithal to thank Jordan. 92 So why are you just telling us now? Jillian shook her head, still looking inside, not focused on either of the men in front of her, Jordan knew the signs. Because, sweetcheeks, I was up all night playing in the dirt. Jordan thought to himself, And I only just now found it. He tipped up the cup, draining the last of Jordans coffee. So you two can call the old doc and tell him its high time to move these peop le out! And I am now going to sleep. With that, he practically rolled out of view and Jordan heard the metallic click of his door closing just a second later. Jillian stood stock still, thinking. Were missing somebody. Not able to help her think, Jor dan called Atlanta, but not Landerly. Mike, its Jordan. All our numbers exactly match yours. Something about the tones in his voice made Jordan sure that Mike was in the lab. Yeah, I figured theyd match. His hand went automatically through his h air, a gesture of frustration. But Ive got another set of info for you to run. Lay it on me, Im going to be sitting on my assays here in a few minutes. Jordan laughed. Thats funny. What? Sitting on my ays. Oh. He could hear the shrug i n Mikes voice, as though the thought had never occurred to him. What do you need? I need you to do a statistical comparison of the numbers were getting for our people and the general population. But Mike was Mike, and in a minute he got it. What a re my controls? Jordan rattled off the stats, then Mike was gone, his hands no doubt resuming their usual speed as he plated samples and provided numbers for them. Turning, he found Jillian watching him. Was that Landerly? That showed how long she had been paying attention. No, Mike. Hes going to run a standard deviation for us. See if the reversal is lowering peoples immune systems so they get sick, or if its making already weak people sick. He could see her absorb that in a lightning flash, an d as she made eye contact with him he realized her eyes were bright. He was opening his mouth to ask, but she beat him to it. I know what we missed. Yeah? From the look on her face he was certain he didnt want to hear it. Eddie. B ecky sat on th e edge of her cot. With her legs apart and her elbows balanced on her jeans covered knees. No one was dying anymore. In fact, everyone whod been in quarantine had stayed healthy for five whole days. And according to Jillian and Jordan things hadnt be en going anything like that before they were all moved out of town. So good news was coming. Certainly. And with the little blind amphibians she was picking up here, along with some seriously disturbed insects, she was certain that the environment was t o blame. Amen to that, and here were 93 the men, no longer in their yellow suits, approaching her. She just knew that they were ending the quarantine. Becky stifled a Halleluiah! Two of them walked up in jeans and t shirts looking very unlike the CDC sci entists they were. But then again they were in backwoods Tennessee, and not their offices in Atlanta. She hazarded a glance down at herself and thought she didnt look very scientific herself. One of them nodded at her like he knew her, which was only c onfusing, until he opened his mouth. From his voice she could tell he was the one who had brought her the phone, consistently listening in on her conversations for the past three days. Briddle. Quarantines over? She looked up expectantly, praying for an okay to return home, and check out her own backyard. Yes. She didnt wait to see his reaction. Just jumped up and started packing her things. Becky had forced herself to hold off til now, because she just knew she would have entered clinical depre ssion if she had to unpack. We wanted to let you know that weve removed the project from Dr. Warden and University of Tennessees jurisdiction. Her busy hands stilled. What? They were taking her frogs? We would like to offer you the opportunity to stay with it, with the CDC. Of course, youll be compensated if we all survive. we all survive? Her mouth hung open. Is that supposed to be a joke? Briddle looked perplexed. Was it funny? The man behind him shook his head and rolled his eyes. No, it wasnt. Beckys gaze snapped to him, recognizing the sound if not the face of the biologist whod been working with her in the makeshift lab occasionally. John! He stepped forward taking over the conversation for the un funny Briddle. There s a lot of work still to be done. You know the animal species are going to help us suss this thing out. Plus theres enough material for about, say, a billion papers. His lips pressed together in what was almost a smile. Papers? In a few minutes Becky had voiced all those concerns. Her packing remained forgotten as she sat back on her cot, suffering a mild case of shock. She to go with the CDC or hand over her frogs. They were government property now. She heard other voices outside. A sound she hadnt heard before. The people of McCann being set free. Almost. They cant go home, can they? No. John shook his head, his face unshaved for what must have been a good four days. The government will hav e to relocate them. What do we do next? Do we set up a lab in Atlanta? Eventually. But right now we need to go do tests on a new location in Florida. Florida? She said the word as though shed never heard of the state before. Her brain really w as on overload and shed ruined her routine and hadnt eaten any breakfast this morning because shed been too excited. Can I go home first? That was what was making her a mess. Her mom and dad were worried, Aaron thought she was on the run from the law , and no matter what the CDC was offering her, she wouldnt take it if it meant she didnt get to show her family she was okay. 94 We need to head right out. They want us on site by tonight. Brookwood and Abellard are already there. And they have the same kind of magnetic anomaly. You cant tell her that! Briddle stood over them, looking like he was going to wire Johns mouth shut. She hasnt signed her paperwork; she isnt cleared yet! She has emergency status. John just looked up to where Brid dle had planted himself in the corner of her tent. Again his face showed his dissatisfaction with the teetotaler. Besides, shes going to sign. Youre right, Im in. She stood and stretched. But on one condition. Im going home first. Ill call my Mom and tell her to have everyone there so I can see them. John looked up at Briddle, still not standing, not giving the man any of the respect or formality he seemed to want. Oh, all right. But no talking to them about any of this, and youre still on emergency status until we get the paperwork through. He handed her a clipboard and she quickly read and signed everything. Basically accepting a probational position, and agreeing to defer to her superiors judgment of what she could and couldnt sha re. But she knew what Aaron had said about government contracts. Your signature meant everything and then some. Theirs meant nothing. Briddle left with his precious paperwork tucked under his arm and she looked back at John. Youll want to come home w ith me. Whens our flight? Theyll put us on something this evening. He, too, finally stood. I need to go with you? Im not much for carrying luggage. I have forty of the frogs from my site at my house. She almost laughed as she saw his jaw drop , and re phrased her thought. I guess I should say we do. J ordan stilled. Standing in the doorway, his question was answered. He hadnt told his Dad that he was coming to Lake James. But here he was on a Sunday morning and the smell of pancakes w as weaving through the house he still had a key to. Dad? Jordan!? His father came through the opening from the kitchen, brandishing his spatula like a weapon, hope and fear both written plainly on his round face. What are you doing here? I needed pancakes? He shook off the burdens of the flight, and the sound still in his head of Jillian giggling and the sheen in her eyes. David was with her and they would handle the stress they were all under together. Jordan had his Dad. Not that his fathe r spoke much. Case in point, his father simply grunted and pointed with the spatula to a vinyl seat at the old scarred table and brought Jordan a plate and fork while the griddle sizzled. It seemed not only did his father make pancakes on his own every Su nday morning, he made enough for Jordan who wasnt there, and maybe even his mother, too. He caught his Dad up on things while the pancakes cooked, his own voice the only thing easing the sounds of his fathers rhythmic work. Were here to examine Eddie s case. A team of us. But I cant tell you much more than that. He saw the nod from the back of his fathers head. I just wanted to come visit. Again the small nod. 95 So he ate. Better than he had eaten in weeks. Fresh, hot pancakes. With syrup fro m the plastic bottle with the grocery store brand label across the front. Nothing fancy at all. But the kitchen and the food and the smells it took him back. And something must have showed. Because when his father finally sat down he took one look at Jordan and asked, Whos the girl? Jillian? What? His face lifted from his plate and his heart kicked up a notch. How had his Dad seen what he was only just admitting to himself? And just a few days too late, too. Late enough to begin with the seri ous self ass kicking. That doctor you work with. You mentioned her last time you were here. It was more words than his Dad had strung together in years, to him at least. How did you know? He spent time cutting the pancakes and shoving another bite i nto his mouth to hide the expressions he was sure were giving him away. Ive seen that look. Almost identical. On my own face, when I thought your mother was going out with someone else. Jordan almost laughed. If his mouth hadnt been full, he might h ave. That bad, huh? Whats this other guy like? Mr. Abellard held the fork as though it was a laser pointer and he was giving the latest PowerPoint presentation. Dad, you havent said this much to me in forever. The older man shrugged and ate anoth er bite of the pancakes. For a full minute Jordan was certain that he had effectively shut down the one open communication hed had with the man in years. And it hadnt been worth it. So he followed suit and shoveled in more food. But his father surpr ised him. Didnt know what to say to you. There was a shrug, buried in the beefy shoulders and in his voice. You went off to college. Id never been, didnt know what any of it was like. Didnt have any friends who did. And ashamed because I could nt pay for it for you. Dad But I this. He jabbed his empty fork at his son again. Ive heard about this Jillian. But what about the guy? Jordans brain churned, doing the thing that probably separated him the most from his father. The con stant reassessment, the continual striving for more information. How do you know theres another guy? No good excuse for you not to have her if there isnt. His Dad didnt look up from his plate, not enough expression or anything other than the words for Jordan to realize that his father held him in higher regard than he had ever known. So whats he got on you? Blond hair, good build, smart, little bit older, stable. He a doctor like you? Jordan sucked in a snort. Try: world renowned geologis t. . . . And hes rich. Hm. He sounded like the same old Dad. Well, what do you have on him? Again Jordan snorted. Obviously not enough. But his father waited. Eating his pancakes, and occasionally looking up, until it was clear that his fat her would think less of him if he didnt at least give it a shot. So he did. Im taller . . . and I still have all my hair. His father laughed. A serious belly full of laughter, and it was worth the flirt in Jillians eyes when she looked at David jus t to hear his father laugh like that. 96 He waited, eating more than he should have, until he hit his threshold of pain. Thinking that if he ate enough his father would spill the secrets of the universe. Or at least how to undo the innuendo and whispers tha t he had heard from their heads tucked together when he woke up on the plane. They had flown in first class this trip. Time was less of the essence. Jillian having seen the connection at the same time Landerly had Mike plowing through back cases to disco ver Eddie and one other death in Lake James from five years ago. The fact that Eddies last name was Abellard and the date of death hadnt escaped Landerly in the slightest. The phone had rung just moments after Jilly had spoken his cousins name. Those two scared him more and more. Another good reason to skip out and come visit his Dad. David had insinuated himself next to Jillian, and should have passed right out given his night in the dirt. But no, he swore it must have been the coffee Jordan had gi ven him. Perked him right up like hed slept all night. Damned coffee. And the next thing you know Jordan found himself dozing across the aisle while Jillian and David talked about all the things they could. Anything but the purpose of the trip. Anyth ing but the fact that three scientists were on the next flight to Minnesota for the CDC. Despite the pancakes and the ugly turn of his thoughts, his father shared no more wisdom with him. Just a bear of a hug and hardly a word as Jordan said thank you for the breakfast and headed back to his hotel room. The one between Jillians and Davids. When he finally slid the key through the lock to his room and flipped on the lights he found Jillian curled up on his bed still asleep, but starting to blink at the l ight, so he slapped it off. The flutter in his chest betrayed him, happy at seeing her in his room again. Im sorry, I didnt expect you in here. He almost kicked himself for saying it. Her voice came out of the depths of sleep, I just thought wed s et up the same. I can move if No, stay put. Its fine. She sighed, and he recognized the sound as that of her falling back deeper asleep. The last thing he heard from her was a mumble about a wake up call and another hour. B ecky had hugged her whole family and thanked them, and said she didnt know when shed be back, and folded herself into John Overtons car. So your sister freaked me out with her Oak Ridge radioactive waste theories. Yeah, well . . . Becky didnt know what to say to that . That bit about the other spots with the frogs and were people sick? And was that why you couldnt talk? . . . He trailed off only to come back full force, this time looking at her instead of the road. Both of which she wished he wouldnt do. Did y ou her? No. Shes just that good. Becky sighed and spoke to her hands twined together in her lap. Shes really gifted, and she makes the rest of us look like idiots a lot of the time. He nodded, and with a quick bite to her lip, she purposeful ly changed the subject. So when your guy comes to get the frogs tomorrow, he needs to get other specimens from the UT lab. The American Birdwatchers Association has a North Georgia branch that contacted us. They have warblers migrating out of season a nd away from their usual nesting sites. 97 He didnt ask, but she knew he didnt see the connection yet, so she fed it to him. I tested them with magnets. They rotate to them just like the frogs do. She grabbed the door and the edge of her seat with whit e knuckles as he yanked the steering wheel to one side and peeled into a car dealership before slapping the gearshift into park. His stare was leaden. You have other species from sites in Georgia? She nodded. He might as well have had the word typed across his face. And youre only just now telling me? She felt the starch sneak up her spine. She was giving him gifts and he was mad? But she didnt fight back, just held some quiet dignity. Ive only known that I was your employee for ab out four hours. And my parents were around for most of it, so I didnt think I should say anything in front of them. His hands covered his face for a moment. First, you arent my employee. We both work for the CDC and we both push our papers for Bridd le. He dragged in a breath as though it would help, but clearly it didnt. Second, . . . people were dying and you kept this kind of information to yourself? She felt like shed been slapped. I . . . I . . . And she took a sl ow, sobering breath. You guys have had me doing tech work out catching amphibs. No one asked me about any of it. No one wanted my theories and no one came to tell me when it was confirmed that the magnetics were causing the illness. Ive been so str essed out that it didnt even occur to me. And no one lives on these sites. Its like the one in my backyard! . . . She stopped because she simply ran out of things to say, and so she said the only thing she could think of next. Nothing. But she reach ed for the door handle, figuring the CDCP had already released her from her UT contract and they were about to release her from this one too. Overtons hand on her arm stopped her, Youre right. Im sorry. She remained suspicious of him for a minute. He opened his mouth once and closed it before opening it again and actually having sound come out of it, We still havent confirmed the magnetics theory, no one thinks it makes any sense. Just correlation, not causation. When he saw that she wasnt planni ng on fleeing the vehicle anymore, he started back up and pushed the gas pedal, waving at the car salesman who was just now walking up to the car and grinning at them, smelling a sale. So some of these warblers are at UT? Yup, all of them. And they re ally should be part of this study. Warden doesnt know about the magnetics. Her chest constricted as she was telling him about her subterfuge. I just found out before I left and was trying to gather more evidence. I figured he would have laughed me o ut of the building if I told him. Thank God you didnt tell him. Well, that wasnt what shed expected to hear. Since she couldnt think of anything else to say, she changed tacks. There are also some bees in LA. UCLA has a cluster there, too. And a definitive reversal spot. Where State Road 134 crosses I 5. L.A.? He slapped the wheel. Holy shit. Becky didnt think shit had ever been holy, but if there was ever a time for that expression it was probably now. Its the Biodiversity lab, I tr avel a lot to study unusual animal behavior. UT got a call from UCLA about three weeks ago. They have bees swarming in columns. Weirdest thing 98 I ever saw. Their bee dance is messed up too. No turn and circle moves. She paused waiting for him to ask her questions, but he didnt. John watched the road and Becky watched John, then continued. So we wound up going out to the site to collect. And we took some amphibs, too. Blind ones like in McCann. And the bees have some sort of magnetic issues too. But UCLA is doing that testing. Crap. He slapped the steering wheel again, and she wondered if it was a tic, if he might start yelling out swear words randomly at any minute in a rush of spontaneous Tourettes. John pulled into the airport, taking the route labeled rental returns and shifting back to Becky. You! You keep talking! are a fountain of knowledge. But I just ran dry. She turned to the window. Disappointed that she didnt have anything else to give. Ive been on this case for almost two months now and I dont have any other information. All Ive gleaned can be summed up in the half hour trip to the airport. D avid stood awkwardly in the front entrance of the yellow ranch house. This house was warm. And even in the front entryway he could see that a little girl lived here. His mind swept briefly back to the house where he grew up, where it wasnt apparent that humans lived there. But here a toy barn and a handful of odd plastic horses gave testament to this child and her life. He shoved it down in a way only the truly practiced could. The wife of the dead cousin was emerging from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a small towel and calling back over her shoulder to a child Wash your hands honey, we have company. Then she saw the three of them, people that she had hollered out to, to come into her house even though she didnt know who they were, and had never seen two of them before. Jordan! She walked right up and, ignoring her flour stained apron, threw her arms a round him in the kind of hug David had read about in books. What are you doing But she cut herself off, noticing the flour she had left on her cousins front and immediately began apologizing and dusting him off in a way that almost made David uncomfo rtable to be standing there watching. Kelly. It was Jordan, grabbing her arm, ignoring the last traces of flour on the front of him. I dont know how to say this . . . His hand came up and went through his hair. And while he wasnt paying attention, Jillian stepped into the gap, filling in the story. Im Jillian Brookwood. I work with Jordan. She shook hands with the blond woman who was growing warier by the moment, but she kept talking right through the womans expression, not missing a beat. Weve found other cases like Eddies. We think there may be an environmental link. Kelly stepped back, her hand clutching at her heart, although she seemed unaware of the action herself. Her eyes darted from one to the other of them, her other hand wa ved behind her until she stumbled back far enough for the couch to materialize behind her and she sank onto the arm, dark circles appearing under her eyes as she started to frown. But Jillian kept talking, leaving no time for the widow to form a sentence l et alone a full thought. We have a good idea what its linked to, but we need to run some tests. Turning slightly she motioned to him, bringing him into the fold of the conversation for the first time, This is Dr. David Carter. We want him to look ar ound the house, to see if what affected Eddie was here. With a wave of her hand she dismissed him, to start wandering around and see what he could find. So he did just that, not wanting to stand there like a moron any longer and see the blondes eyes clo ud over, or her hand clutching for things that werent there. 99 Pulling a tiny meter out of his back pocket he began pacing his way around the perimeters. They had started this crap with compasses and such, but had refined their choice of equipment as the y better knew what they were looking for. The meter read normal. The field lay in the right direction, with the appropriate strength. And he felt like an idiot walking around this tiny middle American house, with the little black box in his palm, gettin g nothing. He had done this as a kid. Took one of his mothers jewelry boxes and cut a rectangle out of the top with a paring knife from the kitchen, and taped in a white piece of paper with red block letters and numbers written on it. He had walked his whole house reading the meter that was so much like the ones his father used. Much bigger and less useful than the one he held today, but he had been so excited to do what his father did. Back then he had been a fool, but in his childhood hadnt felt l ike one. Today he sure as hell did. He called back, Mrs. Abellard? The house wasnt big, and she was all of fifteen feet away. Jordans arm was around her and the hug was almost too familiar, as though those jokes about small town families being too cl ose were true. The blonde looked up at him expectantly, a sheen of tears covering her eyes. It was all he could do to keep from telling her that those tears wouldnt work on him, and this problem wouldnt be solved unless she could get it together. Ther e are two closed doors at the end of the hall. Can I go in? She nodded, and he realized how much he hated getting permission. What if she had said no then died? Well, at least it would be her own fault. The first room he went into was the little gir ls. More of the creepy, plastic horses covered the available surfaces of the bedspread and the white, standard issue, matching dresser and canopy bed, complete with pink ruffles. For a moment all he could do was stare at the girl ness all around him, to o frozen to do his job. Sure this house was warm, but tasteless. Hed be damned if he didnt vomit from all the ruffles around him before he left. Or was it the magnetic field? Either way he was bound to puke. As he ran the meter next to the wall he be gan picking up a level change as he approached the corner. Sonofabitch. It wasnt much. Not even a reversal. But at this point hed seen enough to know it was coming. This was either the top edge of a coming bubble or the side edge of an already exist ing bubble. The normal field gave way, over a distance of about five inches. First weakening, then, if you could locate the exact spot and hold steady, you could find it where the field went to zero. A phenomenon that should not occur on this earth. H e had zero. Far in the back corner, right at the floor. And he had a wall in his way. The mothers room was at least more tasteful. Though it looked like the Dad was still here, too. David didnt analyze that any further, just headed for the corner that abutted the other room, where he had to move furniture and get down on his hands and knees. It was here, too the edge of an already existing bubble and the thing was decent in size. A good part of the bedroom was affected. Sonofabitch. What is it? The voice belonged to Jordan. Got one. 100 Even in the space of the two words, Jordan was at his side, kneeling, reading the meter over his shoulder. Bet this is what got Eddie. His voice had trailed off at the end of the sentence. David knew he sho uld be sympathetic. But he wasnt. He was having the time of his life. His old man had seen shit like this. And there were going to be papers until pigs flew out his ass. And Greer was going to ride that dino theory all the way to the bank. Ye ah, its great. Thank you. The sarcasm wasnt unnoticed, but David left it to sit, un responded to. Its why he wasnt a preschool teacher. He heard the widow in the doorway, but didnt look up, didnt care to see that he had offended her. Let Jordan soothe the woman and explain to her that she needed to pack for herself and her daughter and that the CDC would be putting them into a hotel and starting them on medications. Lindsay was sick yesterday morning. There was a sound to the voice such that David wouldnt have been surprised if he turned around to find the woman actually wringing her hands. Vomiting? Jillians voice broke in, and he closed his mind to all of them. They voluntarily cleared themselves from the room, leaving him with his bub ble anomaly. He smiled. The swap was coming. Like nothing any of them had ever seen before. And he was sitting right on top of it. For a brief moment he pictured his fathers face when he heard. 101 Chapter 10 Chapter 10 J illian stared at the wall, suffering the str ange sense of Dj vu she had. She had stared at a wall just like this. In three cites that looked just like this. Well, from the inside of a hotel room they all did. The only difference was the handful of medications she swallowed. The carpet was the same, a bizarre floral pattern that was created just for this hotel. They were all in reds and browns and creams, though, and all just as ugly. Designed by the humans that she was trying to save. Looking around herself, she shook her head. Maybe she sh ould be trying to save Beckys amphibs. It might be a more noble cause. Landerly had called again. The four bubbles here were to be abandoned. Again there was another team coming up behind them, and Jillian had to wonder where and why they were being mov ed. It seemed all they could do was show up and say there it is. And steep in it a little more. Becky had found another spot on the side of a freeway in LA. Jordan should have been happy about that. But Jillian knew that he was worried about his fami ly. He was sworn not to say anything. They couldnt start a panic. Well, no, they start a panic. A damned good one too, if she put her mind to it. David had already popped up with an excited grin and told them he was trying to calculate when the shift would occur. He was looking at the number and growth rate of the reversal spots. He was calculating in the historical data from the KT boundary, the evidence that he and his paleontologist friend had been on the phone for hours discussing. And had left Jillian for the first time realizing what it felt like to be her family listening to her talk. God, it was boring. And he had told her Greers reversal dinosaur die out theory. Jillian still got cold inside when she thought about that conversation. David, all the dinosaurs died. There was mass extinction. There were volcanoes, which you are now telling me might have been triggered by magnetic reversal? The kind that we are looking at seeing here in the next what? Year? Month? Are we talking o f going the way of the dinosaurs? Well, Rather proud of himself, he had looked her in the eyes and almost smiled. Most of the mammals lived through it. She wanted to scream until her throat hurt too much to ever talk again. But she didnt want Jorda n to come running. Or admit her to an asylum. Then again, there was comfort in just sitting in a corner, rocking on her heels and mumbling about human extinction and magnetic poles, while nurses soothed her and gave her medication to make her happy and ca lm. But the phone rang. Brookwood. She held the receiver to her ear. It was a CDC phone, and the damned thing was a secure line. What the hell was she doing with a secure line? She was supposed to be writing reports on other doctors evaluations of things as simple as E. coli and botulism. Landerly. She snapped to and didnt say anything. Landerly would just start talking when he was ready and there was a certain charming efficiency to it. Youre not going to LA. Theres a prison at the Nevada California line and they have a bubble, too. 102 He paused. Jillian absorbed. And waited. We cant move them. There arent enough facilities, and these are maximum security prisoners. He si ghed and Jillian knew what was coming, but she let him say it. Our deadline for solving this thing just bumped way up. After the AIDS debacle the CDC cant afford to let prisoners die. Start packing. Your tickets are waiting for you at the airport. A nd with a sharp click in her ear he was gone. Jillian stood, the phone still clutched uselessly in her hand, her brain churning. The CDC had suffered from the AIDS issue. No one had cared enough, no one had done enough, because those suffering were gay m en. It wasnt all the CDCs fault. They had actually done a lot. Private funding had failed to foot the necessary bill until grandmas started getting AIDS from blood transfusions and Ryan White became a tiny mirror with a big reflection of Americas ugl y underbelly of prejudice. And the CDC wasnt about to be on the short end of that stick again. So just in case Jillian didnt feel enough pressure, there were now politics involved. Suddenly she understood physicians who medicated themselves. Demerol, S tatol, Percocet all sounded fantastic about now. She allowed herself the dream of a good drug addiction for a brief moment before she hollered out to Jordan. Were not going to LA. She didnt move from her spot, couldnt bear to see his face. Not wh en she knew that he looked happy, and she was about to open her mouth and dash it. Theres a maximum security prison in Nevada that has a reversal and we cant move the prisoners. What!? She could hear his feet hitting the floor. That meant he had be en leaning back in the chair, thinking. For a moment she was glad that he hadnt fallen backwards. Although she could have used a good laugh right now. Jillian started to yell out her response, but Jordan was capable of movement and his footfalls were p ounding her way from just beyond the open door. So she sighed. Were on a plane out tonight. We have to solve this thing and quick. Why us? His feet caught up to his head and he stood upright, shoving overworked fingers into undertended hair. Pie ces of it stood straight up. And his blue eyes blinked slowly, like a man told that hed just been sentenced to the electric chair. Her voice was softer than she had intended. Its punishment. For what? Forging Landerlys signature? I dont know. We must have been very bad in our past lives. Do you remember torturing puppies or something? Jordan shook his head. Very funny, Jilly. Hey dont mock me! I ran out of very funny about two weeks ago. She finally found the source of energy needed to move herself to the nearby desk and she plopped down into it unceremoniously while Jordan melted onto the bed. He rolled all the way through, onto his back, as though there was something to be learned from the ceiling. After a minute Jillian interrupt ed the hum of the air conditioning. Its because of Eddie. How is this because of Eddie? Thats why we went to Florida, forged signature and all. Thats how we found those cases and linked it all together. Eddie was the start of it. If he hadnt b een your cousin I dont know if we would have been this far along. Fat lot of good its done us. 103 I know. She resisted the urge to go to him and offer a hug. Although that wasnt hard given that the phone call from Landerly had drained her of all her energy. With an effort far greater than should have been necessary, she pushed herself up out of the chair and plucked the hotel phone from the cradle punching the four digit code to Davids room. Only David didnt answer. She mumbled into the black hand set, Sorry, wrong number. Then stared at it like it had bitten her. How was that not David? She thought back through the code Youre probably dialing his number from the last hotel we were in. Jordans voice came over her shoulder, indicating tha t he hadnt taken his cue from her, and hadnt moved an inch. I bet you remember them all. All the room numbers and the layout of each place. . . Jillian was just happy that he couldnt see her blush. The poor boy had been subjected to Jillian 24 7 . She could be her own sad reality TV series. She punched in the code for Davids current room and he answered on the third ring. Carter. She curled her lip at the phone. She had to get a new hello. They were all such techies. David, its me, Ji llian. . Were on the move again. To the Nevada California border. And whats there? She could hear him rustling in the background. He was probably already st arting to pack. Maximum Security Prison. With a bubble. Stopping herself, Jillian realized she was starting to sound like Landerly. Subject Verb, minimal clauses and dont bother with articles or adverbs. And she seriously doubted it sounded charming on her. So, with a sigh, she started again. They cant move the prisoners. Weve got a tight deadline. J ordans whole body was leaden; the bubbles had grown black and faster moving. One was going to overtake him, but he couldnt force any more spe ed from his legs. Jillian and David had been running with him, but they had both disappeared along the way. David into thin air, and Jilly, smiling and waving, had been happily engulfed by one. Although Jillian had gone willingly, Jordan knew there was no good in the reversals. It was certain death. In testament to that fact, there were lifeless, rotting bodies strewn around him on the street. The smell was overwhelming. And the rumbling of the bubble was freight train loud as it got closer. The e ar pain and nausea overtook him, as he knew they would. Jordan. He looked, still running, for the source of the sound. The second time the voice said his name, he recognized it as Jillians, but he couldnt find her in the black. With a jolt he sla mmed into the cushioned seat of the airplane as though he had been dropped from a high place, his eyes opening as the vicious dream faded into the back of his head. But the ear pain and nausea were real, surely byproducts of the rapid descent they were pu lling. He felt himself sinking through the seat, giving up and giving in, when Jillian grabbed his arm again. You have to wake up. Davids up. Were landing in two minutes. They would call Landerly when they got in the car and got the secure line set up. They would tell him all they knew, and all they had seen, and wait for his mind to churn. Not that Landerly had been a banner help lately. That he was as stumped as they were had been a small comfort. 104 Jordan blocked all else from his mind and thought of the hot tub and the pool that would await them where they would stay near the state line. It was cheaper on the Nevada side, and that would mean gambling and lights and noise. But that would be all right he supposed; it might keep his mind of f what he had left behind. And how Lake James was doing. Kelly and Lindsey had been evacuated right away, in a bald and scary attempt to save them from the reversal that was growing in the corner between the two bedrooms, creeping a little wider each d ay like an infestation of mold in the walls. Lindsey had already been sick, stomach ache and ear pain that same morning they had arrived. And that had scared the crap out of Jordan. Lindsey was the only living proof of Eddies existence. Everything el se would fade with time. He soothed himself with the thought that it seemed if they were able to pull a person out of the reversal in time, before they got too sick, they wouldnt have any effects. On the flip side, if they didnt get the person out in time, there was only one course the victim always ended up dead. And no one had any idea what the cut off point was. In his head he counted out the death tolls. Florida was at seven. Lake James at five, and maybe more. Twenty total in McCann, alt hough no more since they had figured out to get people out of the area. Both McCann and Florida had traceable paths. A patient zero. The look of contagion. Lake James didnt. The bubbles were cropping up all over the place and taking out random peop le. Or at least it seemed that way now . . . Jordan desperately wanted Jillian to have an epiphany. He wanted to interview someone, anyone, who would give him that last shred of information that would allow his mind to grasp the picture in the puzzle e ven though they were nowhere near complete. And if Lindsey had truly had . . . Well that was another story. He had seen her labs himself. And she was a perfectly healthy kid by all known measures. It would have almost been easier to take if she h ad been sick and nobody had known it. But if this thing was taking out healthy people now . . . there really wasnt an answer. And why wouldnt it take out healthy people? Diseases killed without prejudice or forethought. They could wipe out entire populations without conscience. And even if this was simply an environmental hazard then what would they do when Davids predictions came true and the poles swapped? When the whole earth was a reversal field? He knew he was possibly looking at the end of life as we know it. If it wasnt disease that did them in, then they would have to stand on their Darwinian principles and die the brave death of the non fittest. B ecky trudged through the high grass in the far back of her parents property, hik ing boots laced tight, stomach full from the family breakfast her mother had insisted was necessary because her oldest daughter had returned home the night before. And Becky had let her do it. Since she was heading back to Atlanta and the bio lab right a fter she packed her things. Which was right after she assured her parents that she wasnt going out to the frog site. Which was a bald faced lie. She was heading crosswise through the property. Toward the back corner fence, carrying a walking stick w ith a mounted compass. Her backpack full to the brim of lightweight CDC 105 equipment and empty lexans. By necessity she was out here alone. Was that a stupid thing? Probably. Who knew what this site would do to her? She might go into a coma and die righ t there on the spot. But something told her she wouldnt. Jordan and Jillian and their infectious disease cronies hadnt told the biodiversity team any more. They hadnt found out if the illness was caused by one time long term exposure or if all the little exposures added up to get you sick. If that was the case then she had been plenty exposed and just walking into a site like this was asking for trouble. And the docs had no real theories. No one could tell if the older sites were stronger, or i f the newer ones were. Or if size mattered. No, the one thing they had told her about that was they were counting on to sort that thing out. No one felt the need to evacuate the animals from the sites. And it was Becky and John Overton who were sup posed to be exploring those possibilities. The boundary tape was dirty now. Little leaves clung to it. The bright color faded away. Maybe they shouldnt have put it so low to the ground. Maybe tent stakes hadnt really been the best idea. What if an animal tripped and injured themselves? What if a person did? Closer up she saw pink tape. It wasnt staked but wound around tree trunks and draped across low lying branches. It was brighter, newer. The CDC had tagged it but not marked it keep out or biohazard. God only knew if the neighbor kids crept over the fence to play. About ten feet from the tape she saw the compass jump. . She knew this site was growing and she hadnt been paying attention. Fingers of sun came through the tall trees now, and winds found their way around the trunks. Becky pulled up her turtleneck, glad now that she had dressed a little warmer. Starting back again toward the site, this time she kept a clear eye on the compass. Strands of her hair slipped across her face and into her mouth right as the needle jumped. This time she set down the backpack and pulled out a rubber banded bunch of weighted flags. CDCP DO NOT TOUCH emblazoned in repeating letters across the orange streamers. She dropped one where th e compass started to bounce. The red needle danced in every direction, unsure which way was true north, confused by the one thing that was supposed to keep it constant. She dropped another flag where it became steady again. Of course this time it was p ointed south. Standing several feet inside the site now, Becky looked over the two dropped flags. The fuzzy edges were getting larger as the bubble grew. Her brows pulled together against the thoughts in her head, even as her shoulder blades pulled tog ether against the wind that had picked up again and was biting at her exposed skin. Becky breathed deeply, concerned about just what it was that she was breathing in. Unsure if the reversal caused the problem or brought the problem or fed the problem. God, they didnt know She thought she should feel something different. That her body should instinctively know she was somehow being exposed to something deadly. Her heart did beat faster, but Becky had no doubt that was due to her own adrena line surging rather than any external force altering her heart rate. In that instant the sun disappeared, causing her heart to speed up as her head snapped back. She saw the cloud dusting its way across the sky even as her brain reminded her there was, of course, a logical explanation. But chasing the cloud was a jet. Probably taken off from McGhee Tyson and headed into Nashville. 106 Her breath sucked in, and she stood, trapped, mesmerized, petrified, as the jet blazed a trail toward where she stood. In the clear sky it took almost two full minutes for the plane to reach a point directly overhead, and for the entire time she simply stood there, tense as a piano wire. Adrenaline keeping her whole body on high alert. Her brain flipping and discarding t hought after thought about where to run and how to escape if the plane came tumbling down out of the sky. Somehow, no one had thought to check the height of the bubbles. She knew it now. A possibly fatal error if the plane flew low, and if the bubble reached up that far. The bee columns from LA indicated that these things could and did achieve some altitude. What would the pilot do if all the dash readings went suddenly out of whack? If the compass started jumping? If they looked down and saw they were headed east when they should be headed west? Would they change altitude, to avoid a crash, only to lead them head first into another plane traveling east? But the jet passed over without any events, leaving Becky sucking lungfuls of the ai r inside the site. This job was going to kill her. Well, that was if it didnt kill the whole planet first. She shoved her thoughts to the back of her brain the disturbing ones anyway and focused on the frogs. They would be harder to find this ti me. It was later in the season. There might still be a few straggling tadpoles. And that, she suddenly realized, was why she was here. Those stragglers would grow in the site as it was today, this week. And they would tell its story now. Probably the same one. But they would give her and John a better idea about long term exposure to the site. Her stomach rolled alarmingly, and she refused to even begin to calculate how long it would take the reversal to reach the edges of her parents fenced yard or, god forbid, the house. Again she forced a tight rein on her thoughts to keep them from running away. Counting backwards would indicate that the bubble had been born about two months before the first time Becky had encountered their own little Apo colypse Now. Becky faced the task at hand spotting the tiny ranas darting among the refractions in the creek and peeking out from under crunched leaves. Within an hour she had populated fifteen lexans. And she lined them up for a good looking over; which was about as scientific as she could get out here in the woods. Her fingers ached from plunging them in and out of the now cold water, from bumping and grating her fingertips and knuckles across the smooth looking rocks. Her brain ached, too. And she feverishly prayed it was from effort and stress and not the environment. But all her frogs were normal legged. Just two hind jumpers. They were pale, not whitish, but not the healthy greens and browns of the earlier batches. Six were blind. They looked more like the batch she had hauled from McCann than the batch from here. I nformation was pouring in. David had been shocked that it had started so fast; Jillian had barely plugged in the fax machine when it started beeping and spitting out ink strewn papers. All three of them had forgotten to unpack and had sat, silent, in the supremely uncomfortable chairs around the nice cherrywood table in the corner of the hotel room. They had simply read and passed the pages, each of thei r faces knitting deeper into concern the further along they got. About an hour into it Jordan had stood and stretched. Throwing a handful of worn and smudged papers on the table top, he declared he needed a break, and David had almost hopped up and agree d. Until he saw that Jordans idea of a break was to stop reading the fax pages and to start reviewing and hanging the hand drawn charts. Personally, hed been thinking more along the 107 lines of a steak and a hot tub himself. But as he watched the butch er paper go up, revealing its colorful circles with links and lines and notes, he kept his mouth shut. The fax pages were coming in from all over. Suits were crawling the country, and worse yet, the World Health Organization was starting to collaborate t heir findings of a new disease in India and Africa. David shook his head to himself, things were in the crapper when even the geologist could see what was happening. The fax beeped, and gurgled, and whirred, and then started spitting out another blac k and white missive. David grabbed it even before the machine was fully done with it. Which was his plan, as this little portable shitbox had a tendency to hang on to the page once it was finished printing, and then, at a random interval later, release i t, sending the paper flying out away from the table and sending three very stellar scientists scrambling like fucking idiots to fetch it. He turned to Jordan who was standing back, fists perched on his hips, and way over admiring his thumb tacking job. Listen to this. Both the docs stopped what they were doing and gave him their attention while he went over the major, if blurry, points on the page. They have an animal link between the Knoxville site and the McCann site. They think the McCann site m ay be a few months older. . . . That was as far as hed gotten but while he scanned it again, he let his mouth follow his mind. They checked out the Georgia site. They still dont know why the birds came early, but the growth rate on that site lead s them to believe it might be a full year old Jillians sigh interrupted him. Thank God no one lives out there. This time he read word for word, The animals in McCann are showing unusual, new activity, actually phasing back to Dammit. Jillian looked at Jordan, who was looking back at her. Neither of them spoke, and David did his level best to ignore them. The page had simply run out, and wouldnt you know it, just as he looked up, the fax machine spit out the next sheet, sending it floating right past his open hands. Son of a bitch. Is the dammit another metamorphosis phase, like larva or pupa? David didnt even waste an eye roll on Jordan for that one. Straightening the new page, he started in again, phasing back to normal. Most recent amphib catches in McCann indicate normal development as best as can be determined by present tests. Jillian practically climbed into his lap with excitement. And he sure as hell did nothing to stop her. Did the site reverse? . . . I mean back to normal polarity? He looked the paper up and down. Doesnt look like it. She looked disappointed, which David took to mean she wasnt going to crawl into his lap. And letch that he was, he could admit that that fact disappointed him more than th e site not returning to normal. He hadnt expected it to anyway. Weve never seen anything indicating that they reverse back. Well, not for about sixty million years anyway. Jillian wandered over to admire Abelards thumb tacking job, and the next thing he knew the two of them were spouting off crap about white counts and B U Ns, which he figured had nothing to do with burgers, and David made the executive decision that this would be a good time to ignore them. He plucked up the super teched CDC ph one and called Greer. David! Buddy. 108 He opened his mouth to speak again but Greer beat him to it, already rambling about the McCann egg clutch. full fetus in one of them. Unbelievable. I need to tell someone, I have muscle attachment sites th at no one has seen before. A deep pit formed in Davids heart. He was starting to see himself as Chicken Little. Only he wasnt an idiot. He was just the only one who saw that the sky actually was falling. He wasnt sure how much he cared. But there was the distinct possibility that everyone was going to get sick from this. And with the fatality rate at a hundred percent, Greer might wind up having to limit sharing his joyous minutia to his wife. David was certain that he should be having a crisis right now. Only he wasnt having it. Listen Greer. I need to know something, and you can tell that snappy wife of yours, as she is the smarter half. . . David pinched the bridge of his nose wishing he was elsewhere. Wishing he was siphoning off that trust fund he had broken into to start this whole crapload of a mess. He was ready for some straight out baking on a beach somewhere, with girls in bikinis and beer and a sedate heart rate. If one of them in the hotel room suddenly spontaneously combust ed he wouldnt be surprised. Greer, straighten me out on this: did your dinos die from lack of food or what? No real telling. Just a good solid theory. Plants would have wilted in a matte r of days given the dust cover David interrupted. Hed be en on the receiving end of Greers theories before and he could qualify for a Ph.D. in paleontology long before they ended. Yes, but that depends on the asteroid theory or the volcano theory. Go with this one for a minute and tell me if the evidence mat ches up: The dinosaurs got sick Wait, can I put you on speaker phone? Greer was already doing it, if the clicking and the soft static were any indication. Hey, David turned to Jillian, Does this thing do speaker phone? Sure. She didnt stop her conversation with Jordan, just kept jabbering about qualifying diseases and healthy specimens, but her fingers flew over the secondary numeric keypad. The one she had punched codes into to link up once they had arrived. When she handed it back it wa s squawking at him at full volume. He told Greer and Leena to hang on a minute and looked over his shoulder. You two might want to pay attention to this. They jerked their heads apart. Who are we talking to? Jordan frowned at him, which was fine , since David was certain that he was breaking several federal laws. But he didnt let that deter him. Okay, Greer were all here. Whos we? Leenas voice was overeager, clearly way too stifled by her bed rest. David introduced everybody then s et about swearing the Larsons to secrecy, which he thought was hysterical, but did it anyway. All right. Heres the question: is it possible all the dinosaurs got sick at the same time? Yeah right. They all just came down with a deadly virus. Leen as voice was sweet, even shooting him down. It was too global, too quick. You think whats going around now is what killed my dinos? Greer hopped in. Jordan shot David a death glare, but Jillian was already too wrapped up in the science to be conc erned about treason, I think what Davids asking is if its possible. Is there any evidence that they could have gotten sick? 109 Greer and Leena talked over each other. No. I think its more like theres no evidence against it. We just have a sudd en lack of fossils and we know they died. Why? What does this have to do with that magnetic reversal we found? David sighed. Too damn many scientists in the kitchen. The reversal is making people sick. There. He said it. Let Jordan call in the CDC police. But only those in the hotspots. The die outs seem to correlate to the last reversal. Is it possible that the volcanoes were an aftereffect? Of course it is. Greers voice amplified as though he were talking directly into the speaker b ox. Jillians face took on a look of horror that David had only seen once on a really bad actress in a schlock film featuring killer clowns. Does that mean that we could face volcanoes along with the polarity reversal?! Leena ignored her. I think t he real question is whether or not the dinosaurs were warm blooded. If they were, then they are more pertinent to your question, and if not then they arent. They relate less to humans and we might all react very differently. She sniffled at the end of the sentence and David felt his heart drop. There was nothing he feared more than a woman and tears. But Jordan voiced the question, and Leena answered. Of course Im crying. Im pregnant. I cry at country music. David steered the conversation ba ck where he wanted it. I know Greer thinks they were cold blooded, do you agree? Hell, no. And she launched into an explanation he had heard Greer shoot down a number of times, but it sounded a lot more plausible coming from her mouth. There are t oo many channels in the bone, indicating a network of vessels. Its common to warm blooded creatures. Some of them had necks so long that their heads would have frozen overnight if they didnt self heat their blood. Greers an idiot on that one. Jorda n smiled. Well, I guess every marriage needs its spark. I dont think its a warm blooded cold blooded issue at all. Jillian had turned her focus from a distant spot on the wall to the speaker phone, as though it was the thing actually carrying on a conversation with her. We have amphibian species showing effects of the reversals. And they arent warm blooded. Were all getting affected. David heard pillows shuffle and Greer say something to Leena. He wasnt sure what he said, but by the tone and cadence of Leenas voice he got shot down. Then, yes it is possible. No ones really looked at it, because it doesnt make sense for a virus to sweep like that. So no one has tried to find evidence for or against it. There was a pause, no one wan ting to fill in. But apparently the gears had been turning in Leenas brain. It does go with another problem Ive been sorting thru Greers voice walked on top of hers, Shes on bed rest, all she does is lay around and think. Its dangerous, Im t elling you. Shes decided all the dinosaur die out theories are wrong. Really? Jordans voice jumped in, overlapped by Jillians Why? Leena picked her thread back up. The issue is this: all the major extinction theories rely on the dust cover. Theres argument as to what caused it, but no real argument as to the fact that it happened. And theres this problematic assumption that the debris cloud stopped photosynthesis in the plants, thus killing the dinosaurs . . . but somehow the mammal s. Jordan shrugged. The mammals were smaller. 110 Greers voice answered. No, not really, there were a huge number of dinosaur species that were a lot smaller than what we normally think of. Many of them were as small or much smaller than the average mammal. So it wasnt a size issue. The mammals were warm blooded. Jordan threw out the next piece of evidence. No, so were the dinosaurs. Again Leenas voice was sweet, even in refusing him his basic beliefs. And that actually is what gives th e theory trouble It was Jillian who jumped in now, looking excited. The kind of excited David would be if she peeled off her clothes and straddled him. Warm blooded means faster metabolic rates. Which means that the mammals, the mammal s, should have been the ones killed by the loss of plant life, not the survivors. Excuse me? David cut in. Fuckin biologists. Warm blooded animals eat a lot more per ounce of bodyweight than their cold blooded counterparts. They have to: it takes a lot of energy to make that body heat. So the cold blooded species would have last longer without food or even oxygen, and been far more likely than any mammal to survive a month or more dust cover. So anyway, Leenas soft voice filtered throu gh to them, the dust cover doesnt work if the dinos were warm or cold blooded and Ive decided we dont even have the real killer on our hands. The problem is that the killing factor is sorting who it takes and who it doesnt by some unknown mechanism. What we understand, or at least what weve put together, doesnt answer that question yet. David finally stepped up. What about the previous extinctions? That made Jordans head pop up. There were others? Greer answered, Well, there was one ab out one hundred and thirty five million years ago. That wiped out a darn lot. And another about sixty million years before that. . . why? David sighed. Just wanted to see if they matched up with the pole reversals. He sighed again. Guess they do. Jillian was staring at him. Son of a bitch. That was Jordan, followed closely by Greer, having chosen the exact same words. Im sorry. Leenas ultrafeminine voice could have been the words of a woman at a cocktail party. Are you all insi nuating that were headed for a mass extinction? David answered her in kind. Yes, I believe that is what it sounds like. Do you have any guesses as to when? She was one of the few women he knew who was capable of holding this conversation, and not screaming, swearing, or breaking down. Any time between tomorrow and the next two thousand years. 111 Chapter 11 Chapter 11 H ead to toe in scrubs, Jillian walked through the prison as starched as she possibly could. For all her training, she had never provided care to inmates, and the way the men were looking at her was going to haunt her for more than a night or two. She would have felt more at home and less exposed walking through the middle of Atlanta in only a thong and red heels, in the dead of winter. But the gauntlet turned out to only be the first half. Doors clanged. Metal scraped and moaned. Cinderblock only reflected the sounds; it didnt absorb or diminish them in any way. But when the doors slid closed behind them, Jillians apprehension slid away as a deeper unease slipped in. Something was very wrong. She had the feeling of being in the woods when the animals dont make noise. When you dont know whats coming, but you know that it is. Hes down! The cry was laced with a liberal d ose of terror. And Jillian knew then that these inmates knew something was taking them out. Shoving through the nearly impenetrable wall Jordan and David had provided, she ran flat out until she reached the cell where the wail was coming from. When he reached a hand through the bars at her, Jillian stepped back. She had compassion for the fear in his voice, Help me doc!, but not enough to reach out and touch him. An officer in shades of khaki green came up beside her and asked what she wanted to do. Get this man out of here. But put him on his own. Away from here. The voice wailed again. This time the man with the straggling beard pressed himself to the cage bars directly in front of her. As the warden approached and unlocked the gate, s he stepped back, hoping to get out of reach of the prisoner, and smacked into a wall of muscle. She jumped, spinning, only to find that David had come up behind her. He was dressed in a spare pair of green scrubs from the prison infirmary, in hopes that he would blend in with the other doctors. It looked bad enough without having to answer why a geologist needed to be along. Jillian turned to find Jordan further down the line, his arms laced through the bars, taking vitals from the prisoners who lined up. She saw the sense in what he did. If this cell had a bubble, they should check and see if it stretched down the row. Looking back into the stall as the man was led away in cuffs, she took in the placement and order. This cell had two stacked beds a ttached to the wall, one higher, unoccupied, and the lower with the comatose body of the other inmate strewn across it facedown. She stepped over to kneel down and assess the man, but another officer put his hand in front of her, and without touching her, held her back, while he handcuffed each of the mans hands to the bedframe before letting Jillian near him. Checking him over, she took his blood pressure and respiratory count, wondering even then why she was doing it. They all knew what he had, and t hey all knew what would happen. The men down this row were quiet. They knew they were being stalked, only not in any rational way that any of these men of aggression could deal with. Sanity was slipping here. And Jillian could read it on the faces of the officers, too. How much longer before they realized they werent getting paid enough? Before they jumped ship? 112 The CDCs ass would be in a sling then. There would be no stopping the news cameras. No way to hold back the wave of panic it would su rely generate. So Jillian set about solving the problem the only way she knew how. She stepped up to the warden and explained. This man needs an ICU. Hes comatose, and his ability to breathe on his own may be compromised soon. Then she turned awa y and went to the next patient. Taking the charts handed to her by the prison physician and his assistant. Both the doctor and his young apprentice had the sense to not ask questions. But Jillian asked questions. She asked every one in the book, and a few that werent. Inside fifteen minutes time she knew that Landerly had been right to pull them out of Lake James and send them here. Its where he would have been if his arthritis hadnt effectively shut him down. The trip to McCann had been more th an he could handle. She could tell in the way he walked, in his dry humor that waxed and waned with the amount of medication and rest he got. He would wish he was here, in the thick of it. And while she was wishing that she wasnt here, she decided to make the best of it. What would Landerly do? She almost chuckled to herself. Then she decided that Landerly would get a history on every single one of them and start sorting the furthest gone. He would plot the locations, including the sleeping arrange ments of the sickest patients. And in another two hours, when she and Jordan pooled their data, she realized that Landerly would call the CDC mobile team, already stretched to its limit, and have them set up a temporary camp here. She called for quaran tine. J ordan led the three of them out of the head wardens office about fifteen minutes after they entered it. The man wanted a few minutes alone to call his wife and explain to her that there had been a serious situation at work and that he may not be home for a week or more. Joshua Frank had taken some reassurance that they werent all simply lining up and waiting to die. David seemed to know where he was headed, and he strode down the hall in front of both of them, this time with a purpose. Th e inmates were supposed to have been moved from all the cells where anyone had gotten sick, and David was already rummaging through his briefcase looking for his fancy compasses. He was ready to weigh and measure, and Jordan could see now that he had been from the moment they had set foot in this place. So he followed behind and took the opportunity to sneak a look at Jilly she practically glowed. That was just damned annoying. She should be haggard; she hadnt slept enough; she was in the middle of a high pressure situation. And she . Calling the CDC in front of the inmates and the cops had been a truly stupid move, and even now Jordan couldnt figure out why Jillian hadnt thought just a little further ahead on that one. But he had glare d at her, twice, mouthed the words to her to either shut up or leave the room, and she either hadnt seen him at all or was putting in an Oscar worthy performance of ignoring him. Since he was certain she wasnt that caliber of an actress he truly believe d she hadnt seen him. And here he was dealing with the flak, while she glowed. Bitch. David was inside one of the cells, crawling around on his hands and knees and no longer looking anything like the physician he was dressed up as. His scrubs were bla ckened in long smears down the top, one knee was actually sporting a small tear, and both were ground deep with . . . well, 113 Jordan couldnt identify the source of the dark stains and he wasnt sure he wanted to. He decided to catch up with Jillian and see if she had seen anything worthwhile yet. She smiled a brilliant smile, out of proportion to her surroundings, as he walked up. What have you got? Nothing. His files were tucked under his arm, as inactive as they were useless. You? She shook her head, her ponytail moving from side to side as if to second what she was saying. Its all here, but theres nothing new. Jordan stretched his neck one way then the other, and left Jillian behind, not that she even noticed, as he went off to wind hi s way back to the wardens office. He found the warden with the framed photograph from his desk propped across his knees. Sir, its not that bad. Frank smiled. I know its not. Youve done a good job of putting all our minds at ease. But I cant h elp think about them. You know . . . when something like this comes up . . . Yeah, I do know. For just a moment he paused. Then, decision made, he plowed ahead. My father is in the same situation. I do understand. The warden simply smiled, and asked what he could do to help. Jordan got to make his day by asking to use the phone, then booking the entire staff in the wing at the hotel they were staying in. The CDC could ride his ass for expenditures, if and when he survived this thing. He lef t the office and wound through the long hallway yet again to find Jillian standing still in one of the cell rows watching Davids backside as he crawled from corner to corner, measuring, mapping, and muttering the whole time. The arrogant bastard might ha ve been happy to know Jillian was staring at his butt, but Jordan wasnt about to give him the pleasure. He touched her sleeve and she slowly pulled her gaze away from the ass molded in green cotton. What? Anything left to do? She shook her head. Ive got vitals on all of them, and blood draws. Thats already boxed and waiting. Call for pickup? He kept his voice low, but David wasnt listening anyway. He was lost in the world of his rocks. Jordan wondered if concre te and cinderblock qualified igneous or sedimentary, but he didnt dare ask. No pickup. The mobile lab will run it when they get here in 12 hours. Our one live patient is already at the hospital on a ventilator. Robert Willins? The man she had r ushed to as he was passed out on his bunk. Jordan already knew that was the mans name, and maybe he felt just a little facetious because he knew Jillian wouldnt. Jillian simply ignored the question. It passed like light through glass, and left no feel ing of satisfaction for having asked it. As though he had never spoken she changed the subject, Shall we head back to the hotel and sleep? Were going to be neck deep when the crew arrives. He felt the yawn coming only well after it was too late to s top it, and even before he managed to close his mouth Jillian was biting off her own yawn. David said not to wait for him. Hell catch a ride later. Sweet. He turned away from her face at her last glance back to David. Allowing her to make their goodbyes to Carter, he simply headed down the long hallway toward the exit, only barely cataloguing a muttered response and wondering if the blond geologist might look up later and wonder where they were. Well, hed figure it out fast enough. 114 The adrena line that had been fueling him barely held while he drove back to the hotel. When they arrived she shuffled along behind him, until he slid the magnetic key card into his door and was surprised when she followed him in. There was only the one king sized bed, and Jilly bee lined for it. The foolish words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. This is my room. Havent you noticed? I always sleep in with you. All right. He didnt want to change things, but his mouth again got ahead of his brain. Why? Cant you tell? He was almost afraid of the answer. A small part of him sprung with hope, but the rest of him tamped that part down, and Jordan just sh ook his head. Ever since McCann, Ive been afraid to sleep alone. He nodded. It was the best he was going to get. Although that had to have been the last answer he would have expected. Climb in. T he prison was swarming with them. The bubbles w ere here, they were all growing, and they were all over. David almost grinned. This was a hot spot among hot spots. And, in a new phenomena that hadnt let him get any sleep, they were growing fast enough that he could come back to one end of the hall a nd start all over getting new reads on almost every one. Previous growth rates had been on the order of a few feet a week. These guys were showing growth in a matter of hours. And, as he came back down the hall, he couldnt suppress a grin. Some of t he reversals were fusing. And damn if that wasnt the hot news of the millennium. His Dad would sit back in his chair and have a heart attack. In fact he just might call the old man and personally deliver a little comeuppance to Mister Superiority. J ust then a person, man or woman he couldnt tell, fully decked in the yellow hazmat suit, walked in at the far end of the hall. It waved, but whether or not it smiled was lost in the slight reflection off the surface of the protective face shield it wore. David made what he estimated was a friendly face and waved back before turning and rolling his eyes. Those suits wouldnt protect against magnetic fields. Anyone who wore them was just kidding themselves. So here he was in his torn green scrubs craw ling the dirty floors and ignoring the human smell that was here, and about to be overrun by the highly trained idiots in the yellow suits. The suit approached him and the face shields technology finally made itself useful, the glare disappearing as th e man got closer. You Dr. Carter the second? Yup. . He was certain that his getting out of their way was exactly what the suits wanted, since this one even pointed to where one of the guys had volunteered to drive hi m back to the hotel. David nodded and began the arduous task of gathering all his equipment together. Another suit, this one female, and beautiful a shame he was too exhausted to care offered to help him. He didnt want anyone touching his things, even without the clumsy thick gloves. Almost thirty minutes later, he had gathered all the stuff he needed and left the meters that would continue to record in his absence. But they had been roped off with the CDC s own tape, and signs, han d printed on sheets of yellow legal paper. They swung just a little in air currents that they could feel even though he couldnt. 115 He pushed a weary and very dirty hand through his hair, noticing again that there was just a little less o f it than last month. Flipping open his cell phone he saw the hour for the first time that morning. Already nine thirty. Damn. He dialed his father. His personal cell, the number that only David and every important scientist in the world had. His f ather had told him point blank once that David didnt have the number because he was a good scientist, but because he was the senior Carters nearest blood relation. With a sour smile he decided that this call could only feel better if he had actually rou sed the bastard from sleep. And while he waited for the ringing to stop, he suffered the brief moment of weight in his chest like he always did before his fathers voice said, Hello, David. He never said the words, but the tone clearly begged the quest ion of why he was being bothered. Dad. He didnt say anything more, knowing that the term was bothersome in itself and knowing that his father knew he couldnt escape it. Of course, the great irony being that no one had ever been farther from being a dad than this world renowned scientist. What do you want, David? And he just started speaking, letting all the events of the past few days spill out. He broke about fifteen federal and contract laws that the CDC had specifically reviewed with him, but he didnt care. He came awake to the sound of surprise in his old mans voice. Though even the fact that he was surprised by his sons success was irksome. David held the conversation as he rode back to the hotel and wandered through the lobby. The elevator dinged but David walked in and just kept talking. Let the line get cut off. He arrived at his room and tried the key, but it didnt open. He tried again. Then, wrapped up in the conversation with his father, he tried a third time. This ti me the door opened, although not from his key. The door handle practically flew from his fingers, startling him just long enough to realize that Jordan had opened it from the other side. He looked like death warmed over and David said so. Than ks. Jordan ran a hand through his hair, although he only proceeded in making it stick up more than before. His face was as rumpled as his t shirt and boxers, and he didnt seem to come fully awake. Guess I got the wrong room. David said, turning his key card over, already knowing that the answer wasnt there. His attention, at last, turned back to the phone conversation with his father. No, Im trying to get into my hotel room. Anyway, the reversals are melding. What do you think of that? Not l ike he gave a crap in hell what the old man thought of it. He should have just said, What! This time it was Jordan, looking more awake in his eyes if not the rest of his appearance. Who are you talking to? My father. He said, and then into the phone. No, Im talking to one of the doctors here. You cant talk to anyone about this! Jordan shook his head, although he made no motion to grab the phone away from David. He just covered the mouthpiece. Trust me, my o ld man will be too livid that I found it first to tell anyone what he knows. Hell take it to the grave, and that aint that far away. The look on Jordans face was the look of good little boys and girls who were not only taught to respect their elders, but actually did. A soft voice came from back in the room. Jordan? It was feminine and groggy with sleep and David smiled, making a fist for a mock punch on the arm. The good doc had gotten himself some Nevada ass. The only question was, did he hav e to pay for it? 116 His father was speaking into the cell phone, the age in his voice telling of the distance the sound traveled, even though the phone itself told no such truths. Yeah, Dad. Ive got to go. And with that he hung up on his father, the sol e purpose for the call already achieved. With a smile, he turned to congratulate Jordan, but as he opened his mouth the voice came again. Who is it? And this time, as she came more awake, he recognized the cadence. Jillian. Oh well, shed tire of A bellard soon enough, right? By the way, your team showed up in their yellow suits about an hour ago. Night. He went down the hall enjoying the brief sounds of oh shit! and the pager!, before the door clicked closed on the cozy scene gone awry. J ordan was very afraid of the gnawing in his gut. His father had mentioned that Lindsey and Kelly were ill, but changed the topic as soon as he knew that Jordan had already been notified. It was Sunday again, and Jordan had heard the hiss of the waffle i ron in the background of the call, making the Nevada heat all that much more unbearable. There were eight more prisoners sick this morning, even though they had removed everyone from the bubbles. Maybe they had just been in for too long. Maybe Davids numbers, which Jordan had leaned his head across the tapes to read, were indicating that this was another phase. A voice shouted from off to his right and Jordan began to jog to the zippered tent where the metallic voice was coming from. When he arriv ed, a yellow suit was standing over a prisoner, the mans arm cuffed to the gurney he was on. The voice came again, filtered through a microphone inside the head piece and a polarizing layer of fear. Hes down! Back off! Jordan shoved the nurse a side, wishing he could claw the suit off of her and make her be human, make her participate in this. But he couldnt and he knew he had no right. Even through the refraction of the plexi paned face plate he could see her perturbed expression. But he did nt care. His left hand grabbed for the wrist not cuffed to the bed, already feeling for a pulse, even as his right hand grabbed the stethoscope from around his neck and with nimble fingers spread the earpieces, popping them into his ears. By the time he had the bell of the scope on the prisoners slow moving chest, he had found the pulse, and was counting it. Although far too slowly. In another second he had ascertained that the mans breath sounds were as weak as his pulse and he was slipping. Anot her practiced action put the stethoscope back where it had begun, draped around his neck, and brought the flashlight from his right pocket. A quick move had the light snapped on and shining into dull green eyes held open only by his own fingers. He sig hed, knowing that it was too late. But he practiced his Jillian maneuver and shoved it to the furthest corner of his mind swearing it wouldnt bother him, and dove back into the task at hand. He turned to check the other two sleeping patients in this ten t, realizing that they, too, were barely responsive. They werent categorized as comatose yet, but their pupils were slow to respond to his flashlight, their respirations depressed, their pulses slower, indicating a heart that was overburdened and giving up. . 117 Ducking through the zippered entrance, opposite the one the nurse had left through, Jordan walked out away from the soft burr of the fans and into the light, feeling the heat start to suck at him again. But he gathered his voice an d called for portable ventilators and oxygen tubing. In just a few minutes mechanics showed, his voice having carried easily in the still desert air, unencumbered by the electronics of a microphone. But they carried none of the equipment that was their j ob. We got almost nothing. Youre kidding. Jordan snapped, biting back the words that in a few weeks it might be their families that would need the ventilators and tubing. I dont care what you have to do. There has to be a hospital or a company with the machinery. Find it. Appropriate it if you have to. The two men managed to produce one ventilator, and within five minutes their big truck rolled out of the prison yard and cleared the gates without much in the way of a security check, kickin g up desert dust on the way into town. The nurse was called back to help hook up the slowly sinking patient to the last ventilator. All three of the men in the tent got oxygen tubing and prongs delivering the last tanks of O 2 to their lungs. They work ed quickly and efficiently, without speaking. You didnt get to be on a CDCP field team without knowing your stuff. And you certainly didnt get snapped at by the doctor and not get pissed at him. Jordan wanted to conjure up some regret. But he was f lat out. J illian held the page out to Jordan. Her back ached and her shoulders couldnt bear the weight of the world any more. Jordan didnt reach out to take it, just gave a little shake of his head as he carelessly peeled first his green cotton scrub s top, then the t shirt underneath. For a moment her mothers voice popped into her head, warning her about casualness and sex. Somewhere inside Jillian laughed. She was a physician, and a naked male form was nothing other than a body, especially when s he could see the bone deep weariness from the outside. Jordan tossed the shirts aside and met her eyes, a motion without words to read the fax page to him. But Jillian shook her head. She was ready to cry, and losing ground every day. Only David seemed to still be enjoying plowing headlong into whatever hell awaited them. In the half hour she had napped while Jordan added to the charts in the room next door, she had been plagued and finally jolted awake in a cold sweat by the nightmares that found her whenever she slept alone. Yet right now she wasnt asleep. And this nightmare in print wouldnt give up. But Jordan would have to read this with his own two eyes, and those eyes peered at her from above dark smudges, read her face, and saw her refusal w ith the stiffening of her arm again motioning the paper to him before finally he took it. Jillian followed where his vision tracked on the page, saw his features contract on the first few smeared words from the archaic fax machine. Then she saw him twi st, and she knew. His gaze didnt trace the rest of the paper, he just looked up, piercing her with his eyes. Im sorry. The words took the remaining starch from him, and he collapsed, doll like, laid out on the bed. For a moment she sat and watched the even movements of his chest, listening as the air passed through his mouth, in a far too perfect rhythm to be anything but forced. The minutes stretched, and the room was quiet enough to reveal the creaks and ticks of an older building as it shifte d. All the sounds normally masked by human conversation and motion, 118 none of which existed in this room. Finally, knowing it was the right thing to do, she stood and walked the five steps to the edge of the bed. His eyes stared at the ceiling and leaked tears from the corners. Though she looked him up and down, he never made eye contact with her, effectively shutting her out. The aching bones turned to ice. Jordan was in a space she couldnt get into. Her own family was safe. She slid and crawled ont o the bed next to him, sitting against the headboard, waiting. It was all of a second before he rotated to her, her arms automatically opening in a maternal gesture she didnt realize she knew. Still without making any eye contact he curled into her em brace like a hurt child. Her arms closed on smooth skin as his head sank to her shoulder. She felt his hair against her cheek, not realizing that she had cocooned around him until she found herself there. Im so sorry. The raw whispering sound of her voice started her own eyes watering. But she couldnt distinguish if she was crying for him or for herself or simply from the abrasions her eyes had taken from seven days of desert air. It started in soft confessional tones with his unmistakable timbre, I left them all behind for school. She wanted to say that she understood, that she too had left her family, had left their ideals to pursue her dreams. But she didnt think she really did understand. And in a moment he explained. No one else there went off to college. My Dad worked in the factory. My mother ran a daycare when she was alive. Eddie was the most successful, starting his own construction business. But I was educated and no one knew what to make of me. No one knew what to say or how to speak to me, so no one really did. His breath sucked in, and as he shifted she felt the wetness that soaked so easily through the shoulder of her scrubs. It dawned that the awkwardness she felt was due to the fact that she herself had cried to no on e since she was small and no one had come crying to her. Eddie was my best friend growing up. . . and we got so far apart. I feel like Im trained to be the hero here and Im failing. A soft intake of air was all that revealed the depth of his reg ret, the pain as he saw his family falling away from him. I left so I could save people, and I cant save them. As he turned his face back into her shoulder, she could feel the muscles of his cheeks and mouth, biting his lip or such, and her hands sl owly moved down the hot expanse of his back. Wrapping themselves around her waist, his arms stood out in muscled, bronze relief against the green of her scrubs, but the fabric blended from fold to fold making their legs virtually indistinguishable where t hey were tangled on the covers. She felt and heard the two deep breaths at the same time, the only harbinger before he stood and turned quickly away, hiding the streaks that marked his face. But he didnt bring his hands up to wipe them away. Jillian saw one more deep breath before he announced that he would be on the next flight to Minneapolis. Her legs curled under her of their own will, perhaps her body unconsciously seeking a more protected position before she told him what she knew. You didnt read the whole thing. Jordan slowly turned to face her, no longer ashamed of the tracks on his face, his hands on his hips and his eyes steady. Landerly forbade you to go back. He wants you to stay here. She felt the cringe before she realized she w as doing it. 119 But he didnt flinch at the news at all. And she knew before she heard it what his decision was. Then I quit. Im going back. He calmly walked into the bathroom where she heard the water running for a few moments before it shut off an d was replaced by the sounds of zippers and the small clunks of things thrown into bags. That galvanized her and she sprang from the bed, to find him in the bathroom doing exactly what she had expected. Wait! That stopped him. Cold as stone he turned to her, Do you want me to not go? No. Thats not what Im saying. Jillian felt the desperation rising inside her in a tidal panic she hadnt felt before this. You should go. Let me make th e arrangements through the CDC Maybe you didnt hear me. Im quitting. With a ferocity she hadnt applied in way too long, she stood up to both Jordan and the encroaching hysteria. No youre not. Im getting on the phone and talking Landerly into this. Hell pay for it out of his own pocket by the tim e Im through. Keep packing. She didnt wait for an answer because she didnt want to hear it. Too afraid he would disagree, she fled to the phone and began pushing buttons, unsure what she was going to say to change Landerlys mind and send them to La ke James. Her fingers dialed of their own accord, her brain having long ago memorized all five of Landerlys numbers, and while she got her thoughts together Landerly answered. Hello, Dr. Brookwood. It would have been nice, to have such a distinguis hed colleague address her so formally, if he hadnt followed the first phrase with I figured it would be you to call. So did you talk Abellard out of quitting or are you talking me into sending you both to Lake James? Surprised, she choked on the words , The latter, sir. Well, this had better be a good argument. He sounded a trifle annoyed, and she would have shot something rude back, except that she was about to launch into an argument that had better be good and she had no idea what that argume nt was. It is, sir. Ten minutes later she hung up, and finally turned to face Jordan who had moved from the bathroom into the main room and was gathering his shoes, stuffing them into the bottom of the barely serviceable duffle he always carried. Ann e will call in less than fifteen minutes with your arrangements. arrangements? Yeah, just you. She smiled the turned in grin that confessed she was at the end of her rope, too. He crossed the six feet of space between them, relief showing on ev ery plane of his face, and embraced her, breathing out in one long sigh, that let her know he was glad he didnt have to quit. Her face was inextricably buried in the white t shirt he had thrown on, and the fake fresh smell of laundry detergent assailed h er, as did the fear of going it alone. 120 Chapter 12 Chapter 12 L ake James wasnt what she expected. In the coffee shop the waitress had answered her question with a ya then laughed hysterically at yall. Becky was used to feeling backwoods, but this made her fe el like a big city girl. And that was just uncomfortable. The people looked like they stepped from a book she had read. And it reminded her too much of McCann: small stores, no chains, and everyone knew everyone elses business. And just like in McCann , they greeted her and John with a you guys arent from round here. In their weird clipped, partially swallowed accent. It was never a question, just a statement of fact. Unable to speak in public about their work, she and John quietly sipped coffee t hat came only in regular and decaf, at a table with blue vinyl seats ripped in a handful of places, stuffing slowly escaping where it could. They both refused the breakfast menus, and drank in a noisy silence as the diner swirled around them. John got a call halfway through the awkward breakfast, and the entire diner turned as one to see who was answering a cell phone in the middle of their pastiche. He ignored the looks, and snapped the phone shut. Dr. Abellard is on his way, hes already in the air. Becky only nodded and drained the last slightly darker bits from the bottom of her cup. She already knew that Jordans cousin Lindsay had slipped into coma yesterday. From the fax John had pulled from the machine before they left this morning, they kne w that her mother Kelly had slipped under just hours ago a fact even Dr. Abellard was unaware of as he flew in from Vegas. Are you two ready? We are. Leon Peppersmith approached them from the booth behind where she and John sat in clear distincti on between the animal handlers and the PhDs. Becky and John both nodded and got up together, in tandem reaching for their wallets and dropping a few bills on the table. Silently Becky tucked herself at the end of the line behind the four animal wrangle rs. Leon had his team: his brother as large and lean as himself; his sister, midsized but everything about her said she was determined to keep up with the big boys, including her brown ponytail; and a good friend of theirs who had worked for the first Pep persmith, when he had started in the animal wrangling business. They were after medium to big sized game, and while the Peppersmith operation did a lot of for hire work, they were contracted with the CDCP as needed. And John wanted good sized mammals. He wanted to see what was happening in other populations they hadnt happened to stumble across yet. Though the coffee was warming her from the inside out, Becky turned up the neck on her jacket against the chill in the air. There were rumors that blizz ards sometimes happened this early in the season up here. With a small shiver, Becky became a believer. She reached up to grab the handle at the back of the truck bed, but Leon stretched down to clasp her wrist and lift her in as though she was no more t han a housecat. He didnt speak, but motioned her to sit next to John, and moving his index finger in a circle in the air signaled Linda in the drivers seat to start up. Two smaller pickups with wide, tricked out flatbeds followed close behind, and Be cky wondered if it was legal to be sitting in the back of a truck like this. They were strapped into small seats that had been bolted in, her and John. But Leon was free within the confines of the bouncing bed of the quadcab, and he moved like the panthe rs he was known to catch. He ran a brief lesson, showing them modern lassoes and tranquilizer guns and cages 121 while they rumbled along. When he asked if they knew how to shoot a rifle, he barely suppressed his surprise that it was Becky who said yes. It was the only emotion that had flitted across his face in the whole five hours she had known him. His dark blond hair was pulled back in a low ponytail that looked to be held by a classic red office rubberband, and his ball cap, emblazoned with the lette rs P.A.W., was well worn and molded to him, as did the PAW coveralls he wore. He quickly went through his efficient explanations and demonstrations, and before Becky realized it they had pulled off the back road they had wandered onto. They passed a road block that looked like anything the city might erect, even with the city name painted across the scrapboard barricades. It was a trick Becky had learned recently that the CDC did when they really didnt want anyone to know of their presence. They ma de it look like they werent even there, not until you were well within the borders, and by then youd have had to pass some sort of security check. It all seemed very Area 51 to her, but she was becoming accustomed to it, a fact that scared her more th an just a little. They stopped in a small clearing next to a wide expanse of trees, and like back home, the trees seemed to go on forever. Mountains loomed up beyond the vast forest, and who knew what lived back there where homes and people hadnt enc roached and destroyed? Fish and fowl. Amphibs by the thousands. Insects she was sure she had never seen before. But John had set them here for bigger catches. Cougar. Wolves. Bears. And Peppersmith Animal Wrangling had a cage for anything they c aught, trucks whose beds unfolded to act as trailers to carry it all back. With disturbing efficiency and a disconcerting lack of language, each of them was outfitted with a food pack and water bottle, a thinsulate blanket, and flare gun, and Becky was ha nded a rifle on a plain brown strap and several boxes of ammo tranquilizers of many shapes and sizes. Becky slung the rifle over her shoulder in the lithe motion of someone who had done this a hundred times before, but unease gripped her that they expec ted her to size up and mentally weigh her prey before loading and taking it out. She was certain that if things went down she would shoot first, and second, and third, before stopping to check dosages and weights. The yellow suits had been here before, leaving droppings of little Day Glo flags, indicating areas where they had found reversals. These animals had been exposed, and they would all be, too. But they wouldnt be able to stalk game in hazmat suits. Becky didnt even know if the Peppersmith o peration had been informed of what they were walking into. Their quiet became infinitely reasonable as she was engulfed by the deep stillness of the forest broken only by the obnoxiously human sounds of her and Johns boots crunching through the undergrow th. The Peppersmiths moved like the animals they hunted: quietly, stealthily, in a pack. They kept their rifles firmly in hand, and so Becky decided that she would follow their lead and, as silently as she could, unslung the firearm from her shoulder. T hey had walked for half an hour, John and her bringing up the rear, when the line abruptly stopped. Leons left hand was held up in a fist and he turned to look at John. With his two fingers in a V, he motioned for John to look beyond his left shoulder. Looking back at all of them was a female cougar, showing her grace and stability across a fallen tree. With hushed tones that didnt seem to disturb the cat anywhere near as much as John staring at her, the wranglers divvied themselves up. Lincoln and Linda taking John off to try to follow the 122 cougar hopefully to her cubs. Becky was motioned to trail behind Leon and his friend, whose embroidery read Jess. They hooked wide around the cat and hiked further, leaving Becky to spend her time gazing ar ound her, and making feeble attempts to categorize the birdcalls she heard. What a crazy place to think of the overzealous Marshall Harfield, but what a help he would be right now. They asked her about three white tailed deer, all of whom she refused t o have captured. Even though it made the Peppersmiths shake their heads like kids told to clean their rooms. But the deer were juveniles. And Becky wasnt going to take them, not while she was making the decisions. Her eyes spotted several species of frogs and lizards. And why were all the deer juveniles? Had something happened to the adults? The frogs looked fairly normal. But she stopped and went to get a closer look, twice plunging her hand into water that made the icy creek back home feel like a hot spring. The cold was enough that it altered her physiology, keeping her fingers from grasping at their normal speed, letting these ice adapted frogs get away from her. Knowing what was happening to the neural connections and muscular responses in her hands only bothered her, it sure didnt stop her from trying again and again until she finally came up with a salamander. She counted all its toes and checked its eyes, before popping it into a plastic container she pulled from her backpack. She wa s pulling the pack back on when she spotted the two men staring at her. It was Leon who opened his mouth and demanded a response. What was that? Salamander. She looked at them through narrowed eyes. She was the doctor, she was supposed to be maki ng the decisions about what to catch and they were looking at her like she had a cracked head. Well, I hope you learn a damn lot from that guy. Jess had a southern drawl as long as the day, and a scowl to match. Leon had his pack off and was pulling random things out of it, a spare pair of socks, a roll of thick blue tape. A wicked looking pair of scissors came from their own sheath on his leg. He pointed them at her, scaring the wits out of her for a brief moment. Her mind flooded with horror m ovie scenes and she momentarily considered fleeing, back through the woods she didnt know, chased by a madman with his scissors and an uncanny awareness of the wilderness. Your sleeves wet. She jerked her arm back. You going to cut it off? I sh ould, but I suspect you like that jacket. He pulled one long tube sock, emblazoned with the letter P, and snipped the toe end off. He unceremoniously yanked her sleeve up, allowing her to feel for the first time the frigid water that had seeped in even though she had been certain she had pushed it far enough back. Yanking the dry sleeve of her turtleneck down, he pulled his glove off in one smooth motion with his teeth, and ran his hand over her arm in a reverent and nearly sexual way. She wanted her s kin back. She wanted the crazy guy with the scissors and tranq gun to step beck. But she didnt quite have it in her to look him in the eyes and say so. He pulled the sock over her arm, over her sleeve, and began wrapping the tape around and around. Al lowing only the letter P to peek out near her elbow. What is this? Some kind of scarlet letter? As soon as the words were out she regretted the reference, wondering if two men whod spent their lives rassling gators would have heard of Hester Prynn e. No, He cocked a look that was almost a smile. This is a P, not an A. Your arm is now waterproof and will not freeze from where you dipped your sleeve in the pond. And maybe your 123 jacket will dry out. He pulled the sleeve down over the tape, wher e it could no longer chill her wrist, nor soak into any of her other clothing. She turned her hand over, thinking it looked a bit odd, but was fairly ingenious. Thank you. It was the least she could say to a man she had considered a possible serial ki ller just a few moments before. Without a word, he slipped the items back into their various sheaths and pockets, and pulled his pack on even as he started walking away. Becky followed, flexing her hand to re warm the muscles, grateful that the sleeve wasnt wet against her wrist. Cataloging everything she saw, she wished that she had Melanies memory, and wished Mel could be here now to see these things. It was then that she noticed Leon and Jess looking at each other and making faces even as she fe lt the odd odor trickle past her senses. She knew it was familiar, but not like this. Consciously keeping her voice low she asked without slowing her pace, What is that? Blood. Both men replied simultaneously. Wanting to ask more, but knowing that they were headed straight for the smell, Becky held her tongue. It took fifteen more minutes to get there. In that time she felt the smell change from weak to pungent with a mild overlay of rotting flesh, a smell she hadnt detected ten minutes further back on the trail. They made their way off the paths, finally coming to a clearing, silent as mice, until Becky gasped. A whole herd of moose lay dead, the river rushing by them as though nothing were wrong, even though a member of the heard had fallen i n and gotten tangled in a fallen tree. Water rushed around it on all sides, the animal bobbing like a swollen cork. The bulk of the herd lay along the shores, feet curled under them like they were asleep. But they werent asleep. Wolves and cougars, even some Canada Lynx chewed greedily on the haunches of the fallen animals. The closest ones looked up and growled in response to the gasp that had escaped Beckys mouth. Cubs and pups were there as well, there was no infighting over pieces. There was enough moose for all. The stench assailed her now that she had a visual to go with it. Bloody muzzles came up and chewed before burying themselves deep in the torn open sides of the larger hooved animals. Juveniles tugged at loose flesh, trying to rip pieces free, unconcerned about their human visitors. It was Jess who spoke first. Damnedest thing. Usually they wont eat something that dies of its own accord. Becky nodded. What do they know that we dont? T he water bubbled around her, the c hlorine churning into a smell that was certainly unpleasant, but her brain ignored it in order to appreciate the joys of the foaming water and heat. She had a coke with a big red straw sitting on the edge of the tub. The season being what it was, they were the only ones out here. A few of the prison officers had been in the casino, gambling at blackjack or playing nickel slots. Something pretty much all of them had sworn at one time or another they never did. You look sad. Davids voice broke through the shell she had locked herself in since Jordans call. His cousin had joined her daughter in a coma, and his father had complained of a stomach ache. Jordan was staying with his Dad at the house, as his fathers exposure to the reversals had co me at the 124 factory where he worked, which had since been shut down by the CDC. And that had prompted the news crews to come out. Jordan had explained how theyd held a small press conference and stalled, stating that they didnt know what it was yet. Whi ch was true. I am sad. She just took a sip of the coke, enjoying it, even though she knew it was full of caffeine and would act in conjunction with the hot tub to dehydrate her even faster than the desert air could. But she figured dehydration was t he least of her worries. David pulled his arms out of the water, stretching them across the tiles and leaning his head back like she did. Her own arms felt cool from the contact with the tile, in the dark it had finally lost much of the heat it had retai ned from the day. The night sky was big and black and disappointingly empty. There were no stars visible above her; they were all blocked out by the pinprick of blinding light that was the state line. Do you miss him? Abellard? Yeah. She said i t with a force she didnt know she felt, the words falling out of her mouth. None of these people will talk to me like they talk to him. Theyre getting worse by the day, and theres nothing medical to do. I may have something, but it isnt statistical ly signif icant yet. What do you think you have? David was leaning forward, carefully holding his brown longneck bottle out of the water. The glycosylated hemoglobin spikes ever so slightly before a person goes under. And I wouldnt have found it if I didnt have a whole pond of sitting ducks and nothing better to do than run blood draws on everyone all day long. David nodded and so the words kept falling out of her mouth in useless rivers. I swear I had a patient take a step back when I came t o him. He looked like he had a heroin problem, wed taken his blood so many times. She sighed, more to herself than to him, more out of exasperation than weariness. Her bones were rubber, and her coke was gone, and suddenly she was tired. Dead tired . Jillian bent her elbows and, flattening her hands against the tiles, lifted herself out of the tub, dripping water across the ceramic squares, and she made a brief note to watch where she stepped. She could see the headlines: CDC doctor kills hersel f in deadly cola hot tub water slick incident. Shed already warned David about the alcohol he was drinking, but he was a big boy and he could call his own shots. He followed her up, sitting for a moment on the edge of the rim, rubbing his hand up and do wn his face. Wow. That beer does affect you more in the hot tub. David didnt say much more, just followed her silent bare feet down the hall with his less than silent large ones. He waited while she got her door open, standing back and not crowding her, but being gentlemanly. Need any help getting ready for bed? She mentally rescinded the idea. No thanks. With a small smile meant to say goodnight and nothing more, she stepped past and into the frigid room. She had hoped it would be warm, or at least not sub artic. Given the time she had been here and her high IQ she had thought she would have figured out what to leave the AC set at so that the room would be the right temperature when she returned. But, no. Inside of five minute s she was ready for bed, having swallowed eight giant pills for the third time today. She dreaded the short walk to the king sized bed; it had gotten just a little larger since Jordan had left. And with a deep breath she walked over and pushed herself ben eath the covers, flicking off the last bedside lamp letting darkness infest the room. 125 Feeling her eyelids pull closed, Jillian waited for sleep to overtake her, but her fear held it at bay. Shed been hopeful that she would climb into the bed and smell h im on the sheets. But the maids had changed the sheets and it had all been destroyed with one easy stroke of efficiency. Eventually she got bored with lying in bed and not sleeping, so she threw back the covers and began turning on lights. The room was b oring in its simplicity, too neat, too dull, and she decided to make use of her time by checking out the charts in the other room; she could at least update the hemoglobin numbers she was getting. As she pulled the conjoining door open to total darkness, her brows knit together. The light behind her didnt penetrate, and a deep unease walked through her. She tucked her hand around the wall feeling for the switch, to no avail. She tested with her foot, sneaking it across as it was almost swallowed by the darkness, but no floor rose up to meet her toes. Flailing wildly, her hands grasped at the door frame, stopping her just in time from plunging into the abyss beyond the door. The darkness breathed. The deep space at the door pulsed in a slow even rhy thm. Jillian considered reaching out to catch the doorknob so she could close off the menace, but even as she leaned out over the yawning gap beneath her, into the darkness, hanging only by her left hand firmly grasped on the frame, she heard something. Something familiar. So she pulled back, clung to the door frame, and waited. She wasnt sure how long it was before the sound came again. Jilly? This time it came from behind her. Whirling into the sound of him, she knew everything would be all rig ht. Jordan! But he didnt hug her. She didnt even see his face, just his strong hands coming up to plant across her collarbone and shove her backwards until she fell into the endless space beyond the doorway. With a deep gasp, Jillian jerked herse lf from the clutches of the black, coming awake and gulping air in the hotel room. She lay alone, twisted in the covers, in the middle of her own bed. Y esterday Jillian had finally given him the keys to the car. He had needed it and she hadnt. And David simply hadnt handed them back over. He figured the car practically went from the hotel to the prison and back by itself at this point. This morning Jillian didnt even make a motion for the driver side door, just slipped limply into the passenger seat and buckled up without a word. Is everything all right? He wasnt normally one to pry but the girl looked like someone had showed up last night and decked her, blacking both eyes. He knew that wasnt the case, since hed seen the color forming fo r several days now. You miss your boyfriend? That, at least, startled her. Hes not my boyfriend. Friend with benefits? If you dug with a little trowel you could get pretty deep before anyone noticed what you were doing. Or decided they didn t want to answer your question. She laughed. Yeah, benefits. Like I can sleep. Huh? Digging with his little trowel only worked when he was prepared. Since McCann, I have nightmares when I sleep alone. 126 Jesus, Jillian, all you had to do was k nock. You know you can stay with me. Her eyebrows went up, making the fatigue look almost delicate across her fine features. All of it was clear across her face, left unhindered by the deep mahogany hair pulled up into her ponytail. He could easily re ad the distrust and the laughter. I dont think I would get any more sleep with you than I do by myself. Hey. Id let you sleep. Even he knew he didnt have any. Right. Twenty minutes of silenc e later they arrived at the penitentiary. He pulled the tires onto the soft sand lot where they parked with a slew of other cars, but Jillian was out of the car before he flipped the key. She almost closed the door, but then was across the lot like a str eak of green, her hair flying behind her. David looked beyond her fleeing form to see what she was running to. The only thing his brain processed at first was that something was wrong. He wanted to yell, to tell her to come back. But she was gone befo re he could call out. And all he knew was that something was dreadfully not right. Canvas fluttered in the air. Fans and machinery could be heard. But nothing human moved. Except for Jillian, who disappeared between the tents, running toward whatever was so wrong. Grabbing his briefcase, David took off after her. Even as he ran, he tucked one hand down in the side pocket to pull out a small electronic compass. He clicked the power button and was rewarded with a screen full of dashes followed by a blinking error light. The reversal. That was the only explanation. He pulled out an old needle compass his father had given him back in his days as a boy scout. Even now, the feel of his hand around the metal case brought back the warning that he ha d better not lose it. But he slipped it out to watch the classic red arrow sway like a drunken sailor. Jillian! His heart was ready to pound its way out of his chest, and his breathing seared his lungs it was so deep and ragged. Jesus, had he just been talking about sex? And now . . . Past the computer tent! Or, at least, thats what he thought he heard, the wind ate portions of her words like a staticky broadcast. So he ran to his best guess, stopping short when he did finally see her. Jilli an was on her knees, working the hood off of a fallen suit. Another lay behind her, his head lolled to the side, mouth open, his helmet lying a foot away in the sand. He heard the precious compass hit the dirt, and instantly his knees bent, his bodys im mediate reaction to protect its treasure. Her face turned up to his, her stethoscope hung from her ears, her penlight clung to her fingertips. Theyre all under. Her eyes tracked wildly to either side of him. Jillian He grabbed her arm to pull her to her feet. Thinking to embrace her in a hug, and comfort her. But she jerked her arm out of his reach. Before he snapped out of it, Jillian was on her feet, racing away. Her standard uniform of running shoes carrying her well from one tent to a nother. He raked his fingers through the sandy earth, sifting out the round silver compass and he followed, watching as she lifted flaps and peered inside each one. He checked the needle periodically, noting where it went from the wild swinging to pointi ng due south. 127 This whole shanty town the CDC had erected was now in the reversal. Jillian dove into one tent and David ran the distance to join her. Not knowing what he could do, but that he would do whatever was needed. They were in a maximum secu rity prison made of loose canvas. There was no telling when or how the prisoners would get loose. Or what they would do to the cute little doctor if they did. The tent was darker than he expected and his eyes took several seconds more than he felt was r easonable to adjust. When he finally was able to focus on Jillian, she was kneeling on the floor where a CDC employee, not in a hazmat suit, had curled up between the patient gurneys. Jillian put her stethoscope on the womans chest, rolling her from h er side onto her back even as she checked the prone woman. The badge hanging around her neck flashed as the woman rolled over, revealing that she was an RN. He didnt really want to know, but he asked anyway. The others? She made eye contact finall y, but he almost wished she hadnt, her vivid blue eyes were bright with a gloss of unshed tears. All the same. He reached down for her with his right hand, having shifted the compass to his pocket and the briefcase into his left. Jillian, were stan ding in a reversal. We have to get out. What? She focused on him. him, somewhere inside his soul. Were deep in the reversal right now. Everywhere you ran is backwards. He tugged her to her feet, whether she wanted it or not. All of it made him uncomfortable: her gaze, the polarity. And judging by whats happened, its pretty powerful. We have to get out. He simply turned and yanked her along, brooking no protests. He kept going until they had arrived at an untouched cluster of cactus, well beyond the tents, opposite the parking lot where they had come in. It had been the fastest way out. Finally, when it seemed she wouldnt protest, or just dash back in to save some chart or blood sample, he dropped her hand and plucked the compass f rom his shirt pocket. North. True north. He breathed out. But while he gathered himself together, Jillian fell apart. Her legs gave way and she sank onto the sand beneath her, gathering her knees in her arms and burying her face in the space betwe en. It took a few moments with him standing there, looking out over the desert while she cried at his feet before she spoke. Why didnt they call? He shook his head, but mentally he flipped through image after image of what hed just emerged from. You know, it looked like people just fell wherever they stood. She started to uncurl. And David knew hed handed her something for that brain of hers to chew on. Shed come back around for that. No. She looked up into the sky and he waited for w hat shed reveal. They didnt fall. There were no broken bones, or bumps to the head. It was like they curled up or lay down where they were. They had at least a few moments. He nodded for her to continue. That would mean they got sick very qu ickly. . . even the RN didnt get out of the tent to tell anyone. But she didnt fall. Not the way she was lying. He thought he saw a ghost of a smile pass her lips. That nurse was smart. She even thought it through and lay down on her side. In cas e she vomited. So she wouldnt choke on it. 128 he thought to himself. But hed have to remember that, in case he came to needing it. Help! It cut through the air. A human voice that wasnt theirs, calling from the other side of the camp. Jillian was on her feet in an instant, dashing back in towards the tents, until David caught her arm and hauled her off her feet, nearly yanking her shoulder from its socket. You cant go back through there. We have to go around. So she pulled him at a breakneck speed. He wouldnt let go and she wouldnt slow down. David wouldnt abandon his briefcase, so it slapped against his leg a few times until he learned to hold it out of the way. He ran with the compass in front of him, watching for the sh ift and pulling Jillian off to the side more than once as the needle jerked too much for his taste. It wasnt reliable, this running and reading. The compass was meant to be used by a camper who had a moment to stop and let the needle settle, not runni ng at high speeds around fatal pole reversals. Just then Jillian stopped short and, without any warning, he crashed into her back, eliciting a grunt from her and a quick save as she managed to keep them both on their feet. Five county cars were sitti ng in the lot where they hadnt been before. Shift change. Her voice caused a swell of nausea to rise in him. Twenty officers had just arrived to relieve their friends, only to find them comatose, scattered across the ground like forgotten toys. The sound came again, from off to their right. But this time it wasnt a cry for help. It was a muffled noise, a grunt, a groan, or somewhere in between. And she was just too fast for him to catch. Jillian jumped into the fray, dashing between two ten ts and disappearing from his view. When he arrived, she was leaning over an officer who was curled on the ground with his arms wrapped tight around his stomach. A hhhhh. It was soft. Not so much in pain as it was a release. And even as David stood there dumbfounded, the arms slackened. The officers face lost its tension and his head eased to the ground. The officer looked like he had suddenly gone to sleep. Jillian looked over her shoulders at another man who was standing over a fallen colleague. A quick sweep revealed that almost all of the officers were already down. Only a few remained, clutching their stomachs, and one had his hands clasped over his ears, as though the eerie desert silence was the loudest feedback. As David watched Jillian rushed, helpless, from one man to another. Not able to help any of them without sacrificing the others. Not able to help any of them anyway. And one by one the y dropped. Creating a pattern of fallen bodies in grey green uniforms, aligned in small clusters, attesting to how they had tried to help each other. The whole shift down. Jillian! He paced up to her in several hard steps, again grabbing her behind the elbow and dragging her along. We have to get out of here. Look at what its doing to people. He thought of nothing else but reaching the edge of this freak of nature and walking beyond it. He hauled her with him, completely unconcerned for her w ell being. Mostly he figured he should take the only other standing person out of the reversal with him. 129 When he felt he was far enough beyond, probably way further than necessary, he pulled out the old boy scout compass again. This time he was able t o use it in its intended style, standing still. Although his hand shook like Richter seven. North. Again the needle direction freed his lungs of their breath. Jillian just stood next to him, a statue in kelly green, her eyes blinking on and off az ure blue. He wanted to lean over and put his hands on his knees and breathe like he had just finished wind sprints. Feeling his lungs contract so rapidly and painfully was almost a relief. Why are we still standing? Why did they collapse and we didnt ? He looked up to see her eyes connect with his. He felt it like a hit, square in the chest, as the words absorbed. Those officers hadnt been inside anywhere near as long as they had, and yet the wardens had all fallen, most even before they could ask for help. They were rapidly affected by the reversal, the symptoms showing instantaneous onset to a man. As his own eyes focused on Jillian he saw the thought pattern in her head change. Her eyes averted and she grabbed for her stomach. Tumbling to he r knees, Jillian lost the contents of her breakfast in the hot sand. 130 Chapter 13 Chapter 13 H is fathers hand was slack and lifeless. Not warm, not cold. Not dead, but not the house of a living soul. Mr. Abellards eyes didnt open, didnt show the telltale movem ents of tracking a dream. Nor would they. Jordan knew that, and felt the sharp stab somewhere untouched. Eddies death had been tough. Hearing about Lindsay and Kelly slipping away had hurt. Opened old wounds. Rubbed areas already raw. But when his father took one last look at him, before his eyes pulled closed and his breathing pattern changed, Jordan felt the world undergo some subtle shift. In that moment Lake James had ceased to be his home. It was simply a cluster of people he knew, or knew of, and a house that he had grown up in. The promise of waffles on Sunday was forever rescinded. The smile his father would get when thinking of his mother. The last person who remembered her as Jordan did. All of it was gone. Now he waited. Until his father took his last breath and died. Or until Landerly called his number and drafted him into service again. But now he would only fight for others. So they wouldnt lose like he had. Another man lay comatose in the second bed against the windo w. Jordan didnt know him, but his Dad had once referred to him as Albert, and Jordan got the feeling that the two men had worked together. As he often did, he squeezed his fathers hand. Just enough to send pressure signals to the dormant brain, in h opes that Jackson Abellard was only sleeping, that his sons hand would get even the slightest squeeze back. But it didnt. Not any of the tries before, and not this time either. The smell blanketed the room, not just with the odor of hospital but of death. The whole room was waiting the chairs, the window, the light that didnt quite filter in. Why should it bother? It was all just a matter of time. Jordan stood and stretched, needing to get out where things lived and breathed, even if they did nt really connect with him. The cafeteria seemed like a logical choice the eating of food being the road to sustaining a body. He put his feet in a rhythmic pattern on the floor, moving himself out the door and down the hallway, even though it require d far too much thought. He was halfway there when his cell phone went off. Tugging it from the waistband of his blue scrubs, he checked the caller ID. Landerly. He flipped the phone open. Yes? We have two new cities near McCann that are losing people, and very rapidly. I want you there. Jordan blinked twice. Thinking through . . . . nothing. He would leave his father here, because there was nothing more he could do. And did he need to sit here for the two more days it would take, and simply wait? No. He could be helpful. Abellard? Anne will call you back with your arrangements. With a few more short sentences, Landerly conveyed the seriousness of the issue. These were , they were on the maps and had populations in the tens of thousands. Huge compared to what they had seen in McCann or even Lake James. Jillian and David had seen everyone at the prison go under, and they would meet him in Nashville and fly into Knoxville together on a small chart er. 131 With only a click and no real closing words, Jordan was left holding the cell phone. Staring at it like an alien in his grasp as the staff in the hall flowed around him in a sea of blues and greens. He turned and headed back to his fathers room , he hadnt really been hungry anyway. And in a minute he had re perched himself at the side of the mechanical gurney. Again he held his fathers hand, but this time he spoke. With gentle words he explained that hed be back after he packed, but only br iefly, before he was off again to East Tennessee, to pursue his place as a physician. Something he had only in the past few days understood that his father admired him for. Ill be back in a bit, Dad. Taking a deep breath he forced himself to stand and let go of the shell that had housed his father. On lead feet he made the turns down the corridor, waited at the elevator, and walked through the chill air to the physicians parking lot. His fathers beat up Ford Falcon took the turns like a steamer , slow and wide, heavy and solid feeling. Like his father, the car was from a different era, and with a slight smile he decided he would come back to claim the antique as his own. Within minutes he was pulling up to the house where his father had spent his whole adult life. The house was emptier than it had ever been. The souls had vacated it a while ago it seemed. With quick leaps Jordan took the stairs two at a time and raided his drawers for what he had brought so much for settling in and stayi ng a while. The duffle was packed and slung over his shoulder without a second thought. He was, by now, too used to picking up and fleeing with only his bag to let sentimentality rule him. Key in hand, he bolted the front door behind him, and sank int o the drivers seat of the car. He pulled out, driving in the exact reverse order to get back to the clinic where his Dad lay. He managed to get another fifteen minutes of time with his father. Not that that time made any difference to either of them. Jordan didnt speak, didnt think, didnt cast silent wishes. When the cell finally rang again, he took the call where he sat, Annes dulcet tones telling him that his flight was leaving in just barely enough time to get himself to the airport, and mayb e not even that. She mentioned the charter terminal in Nashville and how to get to it. He hung up, and waved the phone at his Dad, thinking to make a little joke. Stop me now Dad, or Im off to Tennessee. His father made no response. No shift or hitch in his breathing, no twitch of a finger. Jordan watched for all of it and saw none of it. So he stood, stretched, and after a brief hesitation he leaned over and gently pressed a kiss to his fathers forehead. I love you, Dad. Ill see you on t he other side. W hat!? Becky shouted into the cell phone. John had called her three times while she was out trekking with Leon and Jess. Not that her super CDC phone had picked up anything in the back wilds of Minnesota. Clinton , Oak Ridge . She wanted to throw the phone, but upon recognizing towns just beyond her parents land she knew she couldnt lose it over a cell phone. There were far better things to lose it for these days. Like Leon and Jess making angry faces at her. Here s he was yelling on a cell phone in the middle of their pristine wilderness. Well they could stuff it. Come . . . back . . . in . . . .w . . . . eeed . . . . talk. 132 Im coming. She practically shouted it, again knowing it was useless. Louder only wo rked when you were yelling to a person far away, but Becky was beginning to wonder if maybe that wouldnt be a better method of communication. John said something else, even more indistinguishable than the previous sentences, so she yelled Good bye! and hung up. Only to turn and face the Peppersmith guys and their angry glares. With a sigh, she ignored their expressions, just as she had learned to ignore the menacing way they held their tranq guns. That was for her protection, she had found out the other day when a wolf had come too close. We have to go in, guys. John called me back. Something about other towns. Other towns? That from Leon, his deep voice and blue eyes not hiding his surprise or concern. . She had no idea what kind of clearance these guys held. But she also knew her place. And her place was not to give information out. So she weaseled. Another skill she had learned since hiring on at the CDC. Telling the truth to lie. I dont know what it is. I really coul dnt hear much of anything except that I had to come back in. But she had heard a whole lot more. John sounded not scared exactly, but disturbed. Oak Ridge and Clinton were just beyond the boundaries of the little acreage her folks held. And she knew what the reversals were doing. More than she wanted to know. She was under contract to tell her family anything, even though death might be at their doorstep. Literally. That thought set an ulcer to forming. She could feel the hydrochloric acid in her stomach pinching and wearing away at the delicate tissue even as she hiked back toward their base. The trucks stood ready, cages open and waiting for animals stupid or unlucky enough to get in their way, or to catch Johns eye. It seemed that John , who had never held a gun in his life, who had always excelled at science and never sports, enjoyed having the raw power of the Peppersmiths at his command. Becky on the other hand felt guilty every time she gave the word to bring a creature down, to hau l it in. She kept telling herself it was a necessary evil. The hike seemed much longer this way, even though she knew for certain that they were taking a more direct route and walking at a faster pace. Pines passed by with a speed that was likely to h ave her wind up with a twisted ankle. But she was fueled by adrenaline, her brain not acknowledging the sounds of birds. Even though it categorized that the aviary itself was changing here, day by day. The Nevada prison scared the living daylights out of her. According to what she read, it was very lucky that Jillian and David were alive. They had actually run into the reversal, several times. Dr. Abellard was supposed to be monitoring them for signs of turning to the worse. That was enough to give her the willies. From what she and John had gleaned that morning, it sounded like the suits were standing at the edge of the reversal and jumping back as it got bigger. They were using ultrasound and heat sensors to detect who was still alive. It seeme d most of them were. They were looking to see who was moving. At last count that was no one. Becky chewed her lip. The sharp retort of the rifle just behind her made her jump and nearly bite through it. She turned to glare at Leon who was holding hi s gun still aimed and practically smoking. But it was Jess who pointed just a few feet to her left where a lynx was teetering on its feet and falling with a soft thud to the forest floor. Becky closed her eyes, wondering whether she should thank Leon or yell at John for this crazy adventure. 133 As casually as if it was a discarded towel on his living room floor, Leon picked up the lynx and slung it over his shoulder. He motioned for Becky to keep trudging forward. Her ankles were sore from three days of this. Her nerves were stretched. And the ground was giving way beneath her feet. But she slid down the small incline, touching her hand to various branches to stay upright, sending small rocks skittering in front of her. Leon and Jesse brought up a ti ght watch behind her as she picked her way back with very little grace. At least compared to the two men whose big booted feet were no more than cats paws in the thick pine wilderness. But she tried to breathe clean air and pretend it was all okay. B ecky knew it wouldnt last long. If she ran, the clean smell would give way to the bloody scene they had twice visited at the riverside. The deer would be only juveniles, and unless she could turn her brain off, she would worry that thought in her head f orever. Then there was also the promise of the maniacal gleam that would light Johns eyes when he sent the Peppersmiths off after her to bring her down with their tranq guns. She, too, could come back to camp unconscious and slung across Leons wide sho ulder, arms hanging limp, flapping with the rhythm of his gait. Her two low ponytails stirred in the wind that reached them as they neared the edge of the clearing. John approached, carelessly picking his way through the brush, branches snapping back b ehind him. Oak Ridge is losing people and so is Clinton. He held up a map in front of her asking what she knew. All Becky could think was that the whole of Anderson County was going under and the two Peppersmiths behind her were getting a serious ed ucation in what was happening. She could feel Leon approach even though she couldnt see or hear him. Her instincts were the best detection for him, probably the only one. John circled the map area, pointing with his pen. People are going down fast! One hundred since our update this morning. She watched as the tip of his capped red pen passed right through her parents property as he made generous circles around the affected area. She simply nodded, and waited. I want you on the next plane ba ck down there. He turned at last to acknowledge Leon. Can you drive her? Beckys mouth almost hung slack. Like a dog with a bone, Johns manners had gotten just as canine. She was turning to apologize for her boss when John spoke again. Id like you to fly down there with her. See what you can check out. Catch what you can. I just have to stay here. Its way too interesting. He half handed, half shoved a page at Becky. She recognized it as a species list, just as John spoke. Its a list o f all the species were losing. His eyes were almost bright with anticipation. As though it were just a game, that the paper she held in her hand listed imaginary armies from a too serious game of Risk, not Bengal Tigers and Canada Moose and Elk and, of course, Georgia Warblers. J ordan took in the scene before him. They had come in on the promised charter. Only this was no Lear jet, it was a wobbly Cessna, that had wound its way down to a field in the open space between Clinton and Oak Ridge. Aft er a touchdown that had felt as though the earth had risen up to them and the plane had stayed stationary, they cranked open the doors and tumbled out. 134 He let Jillian go first, being gentlemanly, and instantly regretted it. She stumbled a little as her feet hit ground. Her soft blue scrubs showing the buckling of her knees, her hands tucking into her stomach as she folded over. He felt the raw stab of fear that knifed him in the gut every time she wavered. Again he came up with an excuse, it was just the plane ride. He was nauseous, too. it With an ungraceful thump, he landed beside her and took her elbow, seeing David come out the other side, compasses already in hand, briefcase and leather bag hanging from his arms. He loo ked ready to walk into the hotel and spend his workweek. Jordans gaze naturally pulled back to Jillian, his hands encircling her upper arms, his eyes finding hers. Are you all right? Even as he asked it, he told himself the pain was just because he h ad already lost everyone. Not because anything was so special about . She pushed at his chest. Im okay. Just need to get my feet under me. With that, she straightened. Shoved her hair out of her face. The dark strands, for once loose, had bo thered her on the whole flight over. Wet and hanging limp when they entered the plane, they had a gentle wave to them now that rubbed beneath his fingers as he let her stand on her own. He felt and heard her take a deep breath, and he grabbed both their bags as had become his custom. David had already planted himself behind the wheel of the midsized, mid aged gold sedan. Why they didnt have grey or even a black hearse was beyond him. For the thousandth time Jordan felt like they were walking blind. O nly this time they were walking into a serious tragedy. Holding the passenger door for Jillian he waited while she situated herself, most of the green color having faded from her features. Then he let himself into the backseat while David gunned the eng ine, testing the feel of the car and his own level of testosterone. With the map Anne had provided they wound an uncertain way through the countryside. It looked much like the area outside McCann. The Appalachian Mountains cradled the sides of the sm all road, only this time they nestled ATV shops, car dealerships, and the occasional small windowless strip joint up along the sides of the two lane highway. The shops gave way to churches, hillsides dotted with houses, and at last a storage unit of long gray buildings fronted by rows of garage doors. The chain link fence was a good fifteen feet high, winding its way around the property and then across the road in front of them. That made Jordan frown. A uniformed security guard stood sentry at the ga te that spanned the street, on the outside of the town, and David pulled up even as the guard approached them. But David was already whipping out his compass, and making Jordan wish someone else had driven. The rent a cop tipped his hat and spoke to a ll of them through Davids open window. Sorry folks. Citys closed. How does one even close a city? But Jordan could see the answer to his question looming fifteen feet in front of him. The chain link was old and looked unused , but the razor wire gleamed in the afternoon light, obviously a fresh addition to the precautions. David pulled out his temporary badge, flashing it as though he were the presidents guard. Were with the CDCP. He didnt add that they needed to get i nside. Or that they had clearance. He didnt need to. His confidence, that may have already passed well into arrogance, spoke all that for him. The guard stepped back slowly, nodded again, and spoke into the police style walkie talkie tacked to his shoulder. His movements all yielded to the slow drawl of the south. And Jordan could see where it was often perceived as laziness, but could also see that it clearly wasnt. It was 135 bred into these people who hadnt seen a Minnesota blizzard, or had to d o more to keep the cold at bay than turn up the collar on their coats. But they also were possessed of a certainty that speeding up wasnt critical a belief that clearly didnt run in Jillians blood, southern cheerleader that she may be. She fidgete d in the seat, squirming this way and that, trying to look calm but not quite pulling it off. Jordan would have bet his life savings her right foot was crossed over the other, keeping to a silent rhythm. The guard sauntered back to them, gave a brief nod and told them itd be just a minute. It was more like four, Jordan realized as Jillian fidgeted away the time and David sat calmly beside her, pulling instrument after instrument from the briefcase, recalibrating it or something, and then quietly putti ng it back. Jordan leaned back, trying to stay relaxed. He thought he was achieving it well. He kept the hyperventilation and the terror at bay, tucking his hands behind his head, and leaning back as though he were on the beach and not sitting in the ba ck of a government car about to gain security clearance through the gates of hell. The guard stood stationary at the side of the fence, looking exactly as he had long before they were parked there, engine idling. Jordan wondered what the guard would do t o get the gates open, or if he was waiting for a code or such. It turned out the guard would do nothing. A black sedan, filled with men in identical suits and haircuts, pulled up on the inside of the gate, looking like something out of an FBI movie. But then again this was , Jordan thought as the four men undid a thick padlock and wheeled the gate back by hand. They threw their weight at the task, creaking it back foot by foot, before waving the car through. David pulled in and kept on driving, but Jordan turned around to see that they men in suits never acknowledged the guard outside and that they secured the gate with the large padlock set with something that looked like a magnetic key. Jordan fought off thoughts of hav ing to climb the gate and throw himself over the razor wire with thousands of citizens when the lock failed. David pushed the small map at Jillian and set her to navigating. She instantaneously spouted off directions. My god, Jillian shook her head and she spoke again before Jordan could finish the thought of wondering what pattern her brain had found within two minutes of entering the city. The streets are alphabetized. She looked from side to side, and while David seemed to have his eyes on bot h the road and his compasses, Jordan followed her gaze to see that it certainly appeared that she was right. Good lord, who are these people? He heard it from his mouth before he realized he had let it slip. This was Jillians South and he didnt wa nt to offend. But she supplied an answer with a quirk of her mouth. The government. Thats right . . . The town had only become public after world war two when the government had opened the city to the families of the scientists who were working on the top secret Hiroshima project. The place was fuckin nuts. As best as he could see the gates encircled the entire city. Whether that was to keep people out or secrets in, he was unsure. The streets were not only alphabetized, they stacked the road signs. So you would turn down a side street that bore four perfectly ambiguous street names. There were a few people on the streets. Of course all the activity was on the outside of the sawhorse barricades. The people who had lived inside the reversa ls radius had already been moved to temporary housing. But the people who were out looked fairly normal in spite of the presence of the men in big dark suits, with small sharp haircuts. 136 The townspeople put gas in their cars and drove through the McDon alds. The Home Depot lot was empty, and Jordan hazarded a guess that food and gas ranked higher than repairs. Maybe this town full of scientists was smart enough to realize that barricading their doors would only trap them inside and keep nothing out. Shit! Davids voice cut through the air. What? Jillian turned to him, and from her color, just that quick motion was enough to make her green. Or maybe it was the same thought that Jordan was having. David swore all the time, but not in a surp rised way, and if something here had surprised him it would have to be bad. Really bad. Were either on the fuzzy edge of a very large reversal and were going to hit it any second, or weve been riding the edge since three lights back. But the road is straight. Its not following an arc at all. Jordan didnt understand any of the magnetics of it, he knew just enough to pass the physics section of the MCAT years ago when he went into med school. Beyond that he was a slave to what David chose to sh are with him. But he knew that what they had been finding was that the bubbles were circular. Probably how they had gotten dubbed that way in the first place. Exactly, Sherlock. Jordan almost popped him upside the head, which would have been really easy to from the back seat. Instead, he fought the urge while David began explaining, Which makes me think its a really big bubble. . . . shiiiiiiiit. Jordan didnt put voice to it. David would tell him or not and there wasnt much he could do about it. Jillian however seemed to believe she could hold some sort of sway over David. Jordans first thought was that she was lying to herself. Then he realized there was every good chance it was him lying to himself. She might very well hold sway with D avid. Who knew what had been going on between them while he was in Lake James watching his family slip away one by one? He tamped down the images, thinking that the news David had preceded with was going to be happier thoughts than the ones h e was having. Were in. Jordans back snapped straight. Well then, get out! But David kept driving, not noticing Jillian turning green with fear or illness on the seat next to him. Neither option was acceptable to Jordan. Jillian, At the sound of his voice she turned to face him and Jordan was unable to read all the emotions running stampede across her features. Find another path on the map. Take us far left or right . . . or . . . David set down the black palm pilot looking thing, that was a serious navigational compass as best as Jordan could tell, and picked up the old boy scout version, complete with red needle and N E S W markings. David, which way is out? Well just drive straight through. The blond head never really glanced up from the small hammered silver fob in front of him. He would have caused a serious pile up if anyone had been on the road. But these people were organized. Get out of the bubble. Jordan didnt realize that he was unbuckled and hanging over the fron t seat. You and Jillian have already been exposed to these for too long. He didnt add that he was giving less and less of a crap if David fell into a serious coma right this instant. Except that hed prefer the asshole put the car in park first. 137 D avid said nothing, just kept driving, occasionally glancing up to check the flow of traffic against the whispered directions Jillian was giving him. It seemed he was taking them into the heart of the reversal. The man had no concern for his own safety. Jordan couldnt care less. David had no concern for Jordans safety. That was because he was a son of a bitch. But having no concern for Jillians was beyond Jordans limits. If hed had a gun, he would have pulled it and tucked it right at the base of Davids head, right up the foramen magnum. The hole there would make certain that a bullet couldnt glance off that thick head. Guaranteed death. Were fuzzy. The words came after long minutes waiting for a response. Long minutes of almost leisu rely driving down a small town turnpike with the sun overhead and greenery that made both the Nevada desert and Lake James look like they were constructed from brown bags. Jillian started to take deeper breaths and with shaky motions pointed out the cro ss street they were looking for, then the white tents gently breathing with the breeze. It was a high school soccer field from the looks of the sign posted just under the snarling wildcat. In running red light letters it read no school until further not ice. David made a hard right into the lot and stopped the car at the edge. With a quick look at his compass he shoved it into his pocket and pulled the black high tech contraption from his briefcase and started to unfold himself from the car. Jorda n threw himself out the backseat and hustled up to one of the suits who was approaching with a manila envelope. With the way the past three days had been going, if he was lucky, it would be full of anthrax and he could inhale deeply and die a slow and pai nful death. Which would, of course, be far more humane than what he was suffering now. What he was suffering was only compounded by David walking around the front of the car and offering Jillian his arm, Baby, are you okay? Thoughts warred in Jordan s brain. And But the man was saying the envelope was from Landerly. And Jordan saw his own hands in front of him, only now aware that he was shaking far worse than he could detect through his own senses, even now that he knew he was doing it. The pages came out neat and crisp, far better looking than anything they had pulled off the little traveling fax machine. He scanned the notes taking in the news. The churnings of Landerlys brain, gathered into understandabl e English by some tech or junior MD now that he and Jillian werent there to do the job. David! He yelled but didnt look up. Didnt want to see what was going on, didnt care. Landerly says the magnetics of the reversals are getting stronger in t he centers. Theres a graph here, almost like regular concentric rings. David approached and snapped the pages from his hands. It wasnt even an asshole move, just the unthoughtfulness of a man who had always gotten what he wanted. But Jordan continue d. The Nevada site maps like a target. But its even stronger than here or McCann. Landerly thinks thats why it took everyone out. McCanns getting stronger, too. Jillian peeked over Davids shoulder. That doesnt make sense. The wildlife is ret urning to normal. Becky Sorenson said the frogs were looking more normal as were the insects and the other animals she tagged. Her brows knit together in frustration and there was almost a chugging sound as her brain ratcheted up a notch. Jordan shru gged, simply grateful that the churning of her mental gears was a good indicator that she hadnt suffered permanently from David driving them straight through the last reversal. He felt his temper abate, even if the anger didnt. 138 Still David frowned, fli pping one page and then the next. He rotated the papers and Jordan almost chuckled at the sight. As though this whole stinking pile of crap would look better upside down. But he didnt laugh. He couldnt fault the geologist for trying. It wasnt lik e he had any better ideas. 139 Chapter 14 Chapter 14 J illian sat on the edge of the cold cot. It was green army issue fabric slung and stitched to a metal frame, and it had either seen better days or had recently been the recipient of a very large occupant. It hadnt held her heat, and she hadnt been smart enough to line the bed with the blanket before she lay down, so she had lost temperature while she slept. And slept fitfully at that. There was no way to get Jordan onto that thing with her without it looking l ike something more and she wasnt anywhere near brave enough to climb into a bed with David, not that either man would really fit on a cot with her. And she certainly wasnt stupid enough to climb into any bed with David when what she wanted was . J ordan was still out cold, his arm hanging peacefully out from under the covers he had partially kicked off. His fingers were mere inches from the ground but they didnt seem to notice. His face was soft in sleep; clearly he wasnt having her problems. T he only thing that betrayed his state was the dark circles under his eyes and the two day growth of beard that aged him considerably, making him look more like the man he was and not just the friend she considered him. With a sigh, she just gave up, sink ing bare toes into the rough dark carpet of the classroom they were staying in. Desks had been pushed back and stacked against the walls. The whiteboard left clean for the scientists to use. They hadnt. She felt like all the churning in her stomach ha d prevented all the churning in her skull from producing a single useful thought for quite a while now. Her head felt like it was swaying at the top of a tall post, and so she nixed her original idea of wandering down to find the cafeteria. The CDC was supposed to have set up their own food supply there, but she was too shaky to go it alone. Jillian turned back to the bed; if she was already out of it then at least she was going to do this right this time. She deluded herself into thinking that mayb e if she could retain her body heat she could sleep. With her mind focused on that singular thought, she rearranged the blanket and crawled back in. Pulling the free half of the blanket tightly across her, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to fight th e bright gray light streaming through the fairly useless blinds. She relaxed her entire body, muscle by muscle. When she was a resident, shed been able to pass out at the drop of a hat, anywhere, anytime. But now sleep eluded her in the most painful of ways. After a while she gave up, thankful that she was at least starting to get warm, and opened her eyes. Jordan was watching her. Morning. Its not morning. Her voice creaked like old hinges. Morning implies that there was a night. I don t recall one. Still not sleeping? What do you think? She regretted it as soon as the words left her mouth. But she sank into a solid portion of shame when Jordan asked her if she wanted to join him. Completely spoken with sympathy and none of the venom she had thrown at him. That cant be comfortable. What will you care? Youll be asleep. Jillian almost laughed, and almost wondered how she could in the middle of all this. But you wont be. 140 His mouth quirked behind the chestnut stubb le that was a full shade darker than the sun lightened length on his head. Trust me, Ill fall back asleep quickly enough. She couldnt very well say yes there was no way theyd both fit unless she just climbed right on top of him, so she changed the subject. Do you think the reversal has gotten this far since yesterday? They grow pretty fast now, and it was really close when we drove in. We could be in it right now. Dont change the subject on me. He lifted the blanket and made every attempt to scoot back to one side of the cot. But he was thwarted at every motion, sliding back into the center of the sling. Jillian raised one eyebrow at him, never making even the first motion to leave the confines of her finally warm cocoon. Fine. B ut he didnt say anything more than just the one word. He simply stood to full length, stretching his tall form and revealing sun brown skin where his t shirt lifted from the edge of his boxers for just a moment. His eyes scanned the room and settled in the corner on a pile of two spare blankets. He turned his cot on its side and motioned for Jillian to do the same. With great reluctance she stood up, her bare feet draining their heat into the cold carpet again. She pushed the cot out of the way as s he saw that he was layering the blankets on the floor. He put his own blanket as the top layer then kneeled down on it. Come on. It was only slightly softer than a rock slab, but she sank onto it willingly, letting Jordan pull the blanket from her sho ulders, and trusting that shed be heated again within moments. Stretching out along the rough blankets, Jillian had only long enough to shove her hair back out of her face, before Jordan was there and the covers were pulled over them. Lord, the man wa s better than a space heater. Suddenly she understood why women married men they didnt even love. God, the sleep! Jordan? Shh. Her stomach rolled and her jaw clamped to stop the sensation, but she didnt even get that far. She was falling backwa rd into the black abyss. D avid walked the hallway, lined with ugly green lockers, looking like the fresh paint hid layers of abuse. The worn linoleum on the floor had not yet been replaced, the black scuffs still not erasable. His own high school had b een so much more pristine than this. The lockers and carpeting replaced if they had worn even slightly. Even the children had been removed if they were too frayed, not quite up to snuff. He wondered what other differences his fathers money had bought h im. Jordan and Jillian were sleeping in a classroom further down this hall. He didnt know which one, but relied on the handwritten pages taped beside each door, designating the CDCs purpose for each. He almost walked past the one that read: Abella rd, Brookwood, Carter. For a moment he smirked at the irony, that even in print Jillian was caught between the two of them, but then he turned the knob, pushing open the heavy door, the wired glass lined with a shade so he couldnt see in. As the dim roo m slowly came into focus he was caught up in the cozy scene Jillian snuggled into the grasp of Abellards arms. Both of them sleeping like babies. 141 . The thought took him by surprise in its vehemence. Hed been telling himself that i t didnt matter. But maybe it did. He knelt on her side of the makeshift lovers nest and reached out, taking just a moment to be sure that he only touched her. Jillian. Baby. Time to wake up. He nudged her shoulder a little, thinking that this w as a first even for him. Hed slept with married women. He d broken up more than one couple along the way. But hed never, until just now, called a woman baby while she was literally in another mans arms. His thoughts stopped as she stirred, rolling away from Abellard to face him. Whhaaat? The word was soft and low. Were wanted out front. He could see her chest move with a long sigh as she blinked and carelessly shoved the hair from her face. She rolled back into the space she had vacated, and for a moment David was certain hed been given the ultimate brush off. But she grabbed Jordans shoulder and gave a gently shake. Jordan. Wake up. We have to go. David cut her off. No. Let him sleep. They want you and me. Huh? She roll ed again to look at him, but her job had already been accomplished. And Jordan was looking at him, too, through clear eyes. They want you two? Why? Were going to go in. Abellard shot upright, revealing a t shirt, and letting Davids brain breathe a sigh of relief that it wasnt even cozier than it had looked. No. David rocked back on his heels. Why was Jordan fighting back? He slung what he had. Not your decision. Abellards eyes turned to ice. Then whose? David wanted to smile. Jor dan and Jillian were Landerlys babies, lackeys, peons, whatever. But the word had wound up in his hands. And that felt good. Landerlys. David watched while Jordan put a hand on Jillians shoulder, gently holding her back. Dont go. Well talk to Landerly first. Im not sure I believe this. He rolled up and off the floor on the other side, diving into his pants pocket for the cell phone. Surprisingly it was Jillian who came to Davids rescue. She sat with a slight shake to remove the last o f the sleep from her head. Jordan, Landerly ordered it. David wanted to grin, but schooled his features the way he always did. Better to give away nothing. It hadnt been any great importance to him. But David knew himself well enough to know that he was a Carter through and through. And if the challenge was issued it was always answered. And as his father had said, . Abellard had thrown down the gauntlet. And in Davids mind that meant it was just a matter of time before Jillian was his. He watched while Jillian did his work for him and he bottled the pleasure at it. What do you mean Landerly ordered it? She sighed, leaning out to Jordan. But bless him, Abellard wasnt having it. When we were in Nevada, all the wardens and officers walked right into the reversal and fell under. But not us. We had been in for longer than any of them and had no effects. Were fairly certain that were immune. Youre ? 142 Jillian shook her head again, but co ntinued, while David sat back and enjoyed watching the distance between them grow. Immune. Abellards eyes narrowed and Jillian warily slid back at the menace. Youre willing to risk your lives because you did it once before and were okay?!? She wa s on her heels by now, too, and fighting back. No, Im . But we have to stop this or well all die from it. Landerly ordered it. And I have to admit that I dont know what else to do. Jordan raked and hand t hrough his hair, thinking hard and fast for a few seconds. Then Im going, too. Whatever immunity you got, its likely I got it, too. Its probably because of the way weve been exposed to the reversals. David thought that was a reasonable argument, and was cursing himself for not foreseeing it, when Jillian again solved his problems. No, you have to stay out here. David and I were together the whole time. We know we got the same exposure. We dont know that for certain about you. Abellards ja w clenched. David wasnt even sure if the good Dr. Brookwood noticed. But he sure did. She just kept talking. We need you out here, in case . . . in case anything happens. What!? He was on his feet, furious at her and adding distance. . Im supposed to sit out here and wait by the sidelines in case you slip into a coma and die? While I watch? Jordan But he cut her off before she could begin. Do you know what I did in Minnesota? . . . He didnt wait long enoug h, just barreled ahead, I watched every last member of my family go under. And Im supposed to sit here and watch you purposefully throw yourself into it? No way in hell! With an angry snap of his arms he whipped the pants off the floor, stepping in to them and buttoning the fly as he stalked out the door. Jillians mouth hung open, but that was okay. David stepped up to fill in the void. Hell get over it. Hell have to. We dont even know if he can survive going in. She turned slowly to him. We dont know if can. But who else can go? God, he had never been one to play the hero. But hey, there was always a first time, right? The way he figured it they were all radiated toast anyway. He might as well get the girl before he bit the big one. It wouldnt matter. If there was a hell it likely already had a parking spot with an engraved nameplate for him. She didnt answer. So he smiled. Well, then lets get ready to go. Two hours later, they had swallowed a complement of horse pills. And Abellard was still nowhere to be seen. Good. David was in full gear, compasses and magnetic field readers strapped to and stuffed in a toolbelt around his waist. Hed never felt so working class before. Jillian had cell phones, and paper and pencils, a stethoscope hung around her neck. David wasnt sure if that was because she thought she might need it, or if it was just as much a part of her as the scrubs. He peeled his eyes away from her and looked out at the town in front of him. It looked enough like any other. But he knew it wasnt. They stood at the new edge of the reversal, twenty feet closer than it had been last evening. The fuzzy edges were wide and getting wider. They shouldnt encounter any people in here. 143 Everyone shoul d have been evacuated. And if they did find anyone, well, then, that would be Jillians problem. Jillian took deep breaths, as though she were preparing to walk underwater. It was all he could do not to do the same. But his job here was to be a calmi ng rock for her, let her think he was unaffected. Ready? He asked it nonchalantly. Or he tried to, not that Jillian even left her mental space to notice. As Ill ever be. She sucked in a lungful of air. But Im warning you, Im not that ready . He stepped in, waiting, as he always did, for the feeling of getting kicked in the gut. Of having all the air sucked out of him. Or maybe tingling in his fingers. But his stomach didnt even roll. But he was past the yellow flags, delineating the n ew boundaries. He was in the wide edge. Without looking back for Jillian he took another few tentative steps, then started walking. Jillian skipped to catch up, like a swimmer who knows that the water is cold and its better to just dive right in. She slipped a small street map from the back of her notebook, showing him the highlighted line. He took the page from her and frowned at it. How far is this? About three miles. He could see her throat work, but resisted the urge to ask if she was okay. They recalculated the center this morning. The edges keep shifting. Hm. Not really in the mood for conversation, he felt around the things at his waist. The weights hanging from his belt took him back to his digs, back to fist sized rock chips in tough Ziploc baggies and midnight runs down the grid to see if the idiots had fucked up another orientation. Thats what had started this whole mess, too. He picked out the old school compass, shaking off fantasies of the days when he could swear at eve ryone around him. When they were all associate faculty, not physicians. Or better yet, students students whose degrees depended on his good graces. David looked at the houses they were wandering past, just a few blocks beyond the high school. Some wi th pretty flowers in pots and window boxes. Some with peeling paint. And some with both. It was eerie with the absence of people. He feared seeing the faces of the dead peering at him, as transparent as the windowpanes of the empty houses. He pulled his gaze to the needle which had stopped jumping although he wasnt sure when. With a snort at himself for forgetting, he tossed a flag back a handful of yards. Close enough. You know, the paperwork this morning showed another bubble. Jillian didnt look at him, so he simply grunted, staying focused on his compass. Its up toward the north side of town. And its growing pretty quickly. He grunted again, then decided that if he was going to shut her up interrupting was really the way to go. He didnt need chitchat. What street are we on? She looked up, not pointing out that he could easily have tilted his own head and read the sign his damn self. Pomona. He made her write it down, pulled out another meter and read the strength of the fi eld off to her. But it didnt shut her up. The bubble at the edge of town is really near the fence. Her mouth moved as fast as the pencil recording everything he spouted at her. Theyre afraid it wont respect the citys boundaries. That it will cr oss the gate. Were not sure what to do then. 144 Hm. He tried to leave it at that. There were fifty people reported down this morning. New since last night. And another hundred with stomach upset. She paused to inhale and let it out, and it stil l didnt sound like natural breathing to his ears, but he decided not to mention that. The compass needle in front of him jumped a little. He checked the field strength. Stepped into a front yard and popped a meter that looked remarkably like a meat the rmometer into the ground. He didnt even get to read it before Jillian started babbling again. You know, our numbers have shown that of those hundred down, ninety to ninety five percent of them will actually have it. The other five plus percent are jus t your standard G I trouble with a dose of panic. David flattened the sigh before it escaped him. His eyes narrowed on the meter, but Jillians voice cut through again. David? B ecky didnt even look at the greenery around her, just jumped ship of f the tiny Cessna and ignored the pilot as he pointed the way to Oak Ridge. The blue sedan waited, parked casually just off to the left of the three mid sized hangars that made up the Clinton Airport. If it could be called that. Trees scraped the bottom s of the planes at each end of the runway. Grass grew up through cracks in the barely paved landing strip. And nothing bigger than a tour plane had ever come through to the best of her knowledge. But Becky just smiled and waved a thank you to the pilo t and waited barely long enough for Leon to close the sedans passenger door behind himself. From the looks of him he had been hoping to drive, but she ignored that and hit the gas before he even had the seat adjusted. With a grunt he pulled his seatbelt across him and slapped it into the buckle. Becky wasnt sure if that was meant as an insult, but she didnt care. Since they were driving to her house, she didnt see where she needed to sit in the passenger seat and give directions and be polite about missed turn offs and that squinting and head shaking thing people always did when driving in an unfamiliar area. She was through with being polite and worrying about other peoples feelings. She ran two stop signs, ignoring Leons outstretched finger b oth times. There werent even police out this way, just the County Sheriff Office. And the deputies would just smile at her and nod if they wound up pulling her over. She knew them all. Finally she came to a complete stop at a red light that was collec ting cars waiting on the empty crosslane. Her fingers tapped impatiently on the wheel. Her foot hovered, barely holding the brake down, itching to ride the non existent clutch. Her right hand grabbed for the gearshift hoping to slam it into second. But she consciously pulled her fingers away, knowing that throwing an automatic into low gear wouldnt help her one bit. Her lip took some abuse from her teeth, and just as she squealed the tires out into the crossing she heard the distinctive synthetic musi c of her cell phone. Grabbing for it at the clip on her belt she tossed it to Leon. Check the ID, would you? With one hand making a graceful pass, he swiped the phone from the air before it arced in the careless direction it had been sent and saved i t from colliding with the dash. Nimble fingers he oriented the slick silver thing and he read off the name, Dr. Overton. 145 Dont answer. She took a hard left at the next light and out of the corner of her eye, Becky saw Leons fingers reach for purcha se then tuck themselves away out of sight. She didnt say anything and he didnt either. He simply sat, huge and silent, and looking very uncomfortable, never mentioning that he was surely aware that they were going the opposite direction from where they were supposed to be. Or that they were going the wrong way like a bat out of hell. She was grateful when, at last, she hit the old road that led to her parents house. But it was too narrow and full of cracks from winter and grass from summer. She was forced to slow down too many times. But Becky couldnt really get mad. She knew all the people going by. They waved and she waved and drove on before they could get the windows down and tell her how nice it was to see her back from school. The barbed wire fences gave way at last to the old sagging split rail that lined her yard. Melanie was out front with a spoon digging under the old tire swing, the first thing that had brought a smile to Beckys face this whole day. She was probably digging up worm s or such to dissect. The little geek. That your Leon started the question then cut himself off. What? Becky finally looked him in the face, taking in his long blond hair, again pulled back away from his sharp jaw, somehow always bearing about two days worth of stubble. His blue eyes matched the early winter sky in understanding and bleakness. Nothing. He looked the house up and down. Im sure this is a required stop on our way to Oak Ridge. He finished his sentence and sealed his lip s not once making eye contact. Becky nodded. Ill just be a few minutes. Melanie was already running toward the car, having recognized her sister only after raising her hand to her red bangs to see who was driving the strange car that had pulled so bo ldly onto the gravel driveway. Becky caught the imp in her arms and swung her around a few times. She sucked in the air, knowing full well that it might already be in the reversal. Even though, by her own calculations it shouldnt have come this far. N ot yet anyway. But she knew she had to stop and take deep breaths. To smell her yard and the air, and really look at it, because it may very well be the last time. In a practiced move, she swung Mel with a quick change of grasp that both sisters were familiar with. Melanie was riding piggyback by the time they passed through the front door, spoon and worms forgotten momentarily. She yelled right next to Beckys ear. Mom! Look who I found! Her mother rounded the corner from the laundry room. Hey, Baby. Her face lit up at seeing her oldest daughter so unexpectedly. She slid Mel down her back until her sisters small sneakered feet hit the hard wood floor and Becky rushed to hug her mother. Her mother hugged back just as fiercely before pu lling away and looking Becky in the eyes. Whats wrong? With a deep breath that took in the pine cleaner and open country, and a quick look at the old furniture, covered with throws and battered pillows, she turned to deliver the news. I cant tell y ou whats happening. Just that its bigger than me. Her mothers brows knit together. Are you in some sort of trouble? Becky shook her head. But I am with the CDC now, so you figure it out. Another frown from her mother and another deep breath o f the smell that was her home. I can tell you this: you need to pack up the kids and Dad and go visit Aaron for at least a week. Call me before you return. 146 Her mother leaned back, a hand absently reaching for the washer to steady herself. Is Aaron in trouble? No. But need to go visit him. Becky stared at her mother, hoping she would take the message and quit. Is something happening here? Her mothers voice shook, just a little, but she straightened up, standing firm on her own two feet . Becky did the only thing she could do: she nodded her head while speaking. I cant tell you that. All I can say is that this would be a great time to go visit Aaron. Maybe get out of the house by tomorrow morning at the latest. Her mother lean ed forward looking for one last out. Are you sure? Absolutely. She reached forward giving her mother a hug. Im not supposed to be here. I have to go. Turning, she spied Melanie wide eyed behind her, having heard the whole conversation. She sc ooped her sister up even as the words began flowing out of that little mouth. This is about those frogs isnt it? So Becky did it again. She nodded, contradicting her voice. I dont know. Something is wrong there. Melanie paused, leaning back, and its coming here. I always knew you were a very smart girl. And Moms going to listen to whatever ideas you have. Because youre probably right! She yelled for Brandon, hoping he would make his way out to see her. She could hear the time ticki ng away in heartbeats. With a last thought she turned back. You dont tell about this. Do you both understand me? If you start a panic theres no telling what will happen. Both the Sorenson women nodded back at her and she turned to go. I love you. Brandon showed his face in the hall right as she reached the front door. She tried to scoop him up but he was too heavy, and from the looks of it, three inches taller than the last time she had seen him. Blinking back tears, she kissed his cheek and went out the front door. The wood planks of the porch showed wear at the front door and down the steps. The grass had disappeared in a trail to the end of the drive, where the CDC sedan sat with one very nonchalant Leon squeezed into the pas senger side seat, looking anywhere but at her. Becky walked up to his side and tapped on the window, startling him from his glazed over look. He opened the door to her and she smiled, holding out the keys. Do you want to drive? Hell, yes. He didn t look at her mother or her sister in the front doorway. He didnt acknowledge her brothers whoops that they were going to go visit Aaron. Just calmly walked around and situated himself in the drivers side, lifting the lever and sliding the seat back a s far as it would go, which to Becky still looked a little shy of comfortable. He threw the car in gear and backed out of the driveway as though he had never been there. Without needing directions he took them back the way they had come, leaving Becky to her thoughts in the passenger seat, until he startled her by asking what she wanted. Only then did she look up to realize that it wasnt a philosophical query, but they were about three feet from the Burger King drive thru. She rattled off an order, c ringing as she realized that she was way too familiar with Burger Kings menu, and listened while Leon ordered himself two large sized value meals. As they pulled away Leon pointedly looked at his watch. Gee, even to her ears it sounded odd coming fr om him, That sure did take a long time. And Im sorry I got us lost back there. 147 Becky smiled, letting out the breath she had kept in. Thank you. Leon smiled, still looking straight at the long, bare, two lane road ahead of them. Dont know what youre talking about. Now, am I headed toward Oak Ridge this time? Yes, you are. J ordan paced the edge of the bubble. Three hours since they had left. And nothing. He had heard phone contact, crackles of the walkie talkies Jillian and Davi d had carried in, spurts of conversation between them and the suits in the tent behind him. He stuffed down the wry thought that they would have to move the tent another twenty feet further before tomorrow morning. The air bit at his legs through the b lue scrub pants that didnt keep out the chill. He zipped his jacket a little higher up under his chin, not wanting to take the time to go back to the room put on heavier pants. And not wanting to lose the instant recognition the blue cotton afforded him . The others all knew exactly what to look for when they needed him. Right now that was very important. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets, looking up at tall pines and oaks. Hills crowded up on either side of him. The city had purposefully been laid out in a hard to reach area. The roads had been contoured to the Appalachians, making it hard to predict where and when to turn. One of the local scientists had said something about making the city difficult to invade, as he had pointed on the map t o crossing roads, circles off of circles, and even avenues that continued but changed names, the original name taking off at a ninety degree angle on a different street. Jordan breathed in, the cold air chilling his lungs. In front of him the place was a ghost town. Everyone evacuated from neat homes. The landscape looked like a handful of miniature houses had been tossed across the hills and rooted wherever they landed. Behind him the city went on as normal. The library and town Civic Center had ple nty of traffic. The gymnasium housed some of the displaced families. They held activities for the out of school kids while their parents continued to go to work, many at the nuclear labs further down the turnpike. Jordan shuddered to himself at the thou ght of the magnetics reaching the power plants. Dr. Abellard! He turned to see a young tech, complete with acne, old jeans, and Converse sneakers under the labcoat, come running up to him. Dr. Sorenson is here. She wants to see you. With a nod , he turned and followed the kid back into the tents, the grass growing strong beneath his feet and the smell of trees and green the only real distinguishing factors between here and Nevada. They wound their way through tent after tent, gathering papers a s they went. Jordan was handed lab results on the people who had gone down this morning. He had read each individual report earlier, but now held compiled statistics on the group, on how many were down, who had died from the alpha group and who still clu ng to life and maybe even hope. Lucy Whitman, one of the techs, approached with another handful of papers and a broad smile, her blond curls bouncing and looking overdone for a scientific endeavor of this magnitude and tragedy. Jordan couldnt abide the twinkle in her eyes or the makeup that was always perfect, even as the pieces of the world fell down around her. He faked a smile back at her, only earning her 148 shoulder pressed to his as she held out the pages to him. I know Im not supposed to read the se, but there was no cover sheet, and ! He did, but saw only black type on white pages. Until her perfectly polished red nail skimmed across some of the words. Fifteen of the Nevada patients have woken up! His head slammed hard to the right to l ook at her. What!? But she was serious. The grin was genuine, and the sparkle contagious. He jumped at the simultaneous digital ring and buzz of his phone going off. He simply opened the phone and answered it without thinking. Hello? Abellard ! Landerlys voice had a smile in it. Weve caught a break, boy! I trust youre holding the pages I just faxed? Yes, sir. But I havent read them all yet. He shoved the pages back at Lucy and turned away from her, putting his fingers over his le ft ear to block any noises. But perhaps the pounding of his heartbeat in his fingertips was louder than what was around him. Fifteen Nevada patients are out of the coma. There are a few stats in there, but not enough. The docs there are helping them and taking vital signs. I want you sitting near the fax machine. Ive got a tech there assigned to record and fax everything they get to you and me simultaneously. This is the break and we have to be on it. Yessir. His heart pounded and he spit ou t the thing that sprang immediately to his mind. What about Lake James? Landerly paused for just a moment, and Jordan knew what was coming. I havent heard anything, but I already put in an inquiry. Of course. His breathing had sped up there fo r a moment and now his shoulders and chest sank, heavy as granite. The murderers and rapists would wake up, but not the good people of a small Minnesota town. Landerlys voice sliced through his self pity, bringing back the five senses of reality with it : the phone pressed against his ear, the taste of metal in his mouth where he had bit down, the throbbing in his tongue further evidence. Remember, the Nevada site fell first. So on this time scale we should know something within two days about Lake Jam es. Of course. And just like that his heart rate accelerated again. His breathing went shallow and he would become hypoxic and pass out if he didnt get a grip. I hear Dr. Sorenson and one of the animal wranglers arrived. Theyre going after some local wildlife. You need to read their Minnesota data and report in to me what you can make of it. Of course sir, but Jillians in the reversal now. Well get back to you when Heres an idea: try thinking for yourself, Abellard. Or I name this shit after you. Jordan would have laughed if not for the three successive digital notes signaling that Landerly had already hung up on him. He stared at the phone for a moment before he realized that Lucy was watching his every move, and the tech in the converse sneakers was watching hers, even though he was way too young for Lucy to be anything but a farfetched fantasy. Jordan sympathized. . He took the papers out of Lucys outstretched and manicured hand as Becky Sorenson approached and clasped his hand in a warm grip. Good to see you again, Jordan. She motioned to the blond giant behind her, This is Leon Peppersmith. Hes a CDC wrangler. 149 Pleased to meet you. Peppersmiths voice was modulated if not cult ured. And contrary to fears, he didnt grind Jordans bones to meal with his handshake, even though the man would easily make Jillian look like she belonged in Oz. Becky pulled the haversack she was wearing a little higher on her shoulders. Were hea ding to the edges to capture what we can. Jordan took a step back. Dont go in. Not until we know what were dealing with. He shook his head, waiting for a piece of the sky to break free and crash in flames inches from his feet. But it didnt hap pen. How will we know what were dealing with if we dont go in? Becky, too, shook her head, shrugging, at a loss for the words to express what was happening around them. Like Jillian, she saw no alternative. Its the right thing to do. But Jordan plowed on ahead, giving his best effort at stopping them. Some of them are waking up at the Nevada site. Really?! Beckys face lit up. Thats great! How many? Fifteen. So far. It was so hopeful and yet such a small number. He clung to the belief that he could get Becky and Peppersmith to change their minds before he cracked from it all. And you have data from Minnesota, so why Becky shrugged him off again. Just more questions. We need to find the links. Jordan motioned them into a tent that was being used as one of the lab stations. There was only one tech in there, and both Jordan and Peppersmith gave him a look that did more than just request privacy. The tech shrugged as he pocketed his wrench and a small meter. Hew spoke ov er his shoulder as he exited, Damned UV vis is down. All of them are. Dont use it. Then they were alone, except for the centrifuges, whirring and stopping, settling the contents in the blood samples everyone had been collecting. Lowering himself i nto a chair, Jordan motioned for Becky and Leon to do the same, and set about stalling them. What did you find? Moose. It was Peppersmith. Canada Moose. A whole herd looks like they all just laid down and died. Wolves and Lynx side by side, te aring at the carcasses. Becky chimed in as Jordan felt his face pull further and further into a knot. The white tailed dear there were only juveniles. There wasnt an adult to be found. Nothing over three point. He felt the b ack of the chair support him before he realized he had slid back. He had started to open his mouth again, but Becky pulled a list from her pocket. Photocopy this. She held it up to Lucy, who Jordan only then realized was hovering at the open tent flap . But Becky pulled it back, away from Lucys reaching grasp, shoving it at Jordan, Here, look at it first. Species were listed to halfway down the page. And Beckys voice derailed his train of thought. Theyre all missing or dead. Whole species? He handed the page up to Lucy who fled from sight, hopefully for the nearest copier. Becky and Peppersmith both nodded. Holy shit. Jordan blinked, wondering if the day could get any more surreal. Peppersmith shrugged. We have to go in. The anima ls survival depends on it. Before Jordan could argue, Lucy had returned with Beckys weathered original and a crisp copy for him, and the biologists were out of the tent, following a new tech who was showing them the way to the west side of the revers al. 150 With deep, even breaths that he had to count out, he stumbled his way to the fax machine, already piling high with printed pages. His butt smacked the chair and he began scanning the documents, quickly realizing there was an individual chart on each of the men who had woken from coma. Men. Every last one of them, because it was a mens facility with male guards. Paper! He shouted it to whomever would listen, grateful when two different techs showed, one with blank white pages and the other hol ding out a legal pad and retractable pen. Thank you. He took the yellow lined paper but didnt look up. In seconds the pad was spread across his knees and his hand went automatically to the pen in his breast pocket, carefully engraved with the words It had been a graduation gift, unaccompanied by a tag or even words, from his father. He began writing furiously. He grabbed at his cell phone and hit Landerly on speed dial. What do you have boy? Theres a 53 hour window from when the first of these men fell to the last one. The down times correlate loosely to the waking times. What else? Landerly was seeing the same things he was, he knew. There are no guards. Just prisoners. All from the same wing. These are the guys who went down before the reversal swept the CDC set up. So it makes sense that there arent any guards awake. . . Yet. He rattled off what he saw about the white counts, probably still not giving Landerly anything new. Abellard! It came from far off. And in that instant Jordan rec ognized the voice. David. Gotta go. He closed the phone, left the pages where they were and took off at a run, not realizing that it was the first time he had hung up on Landerly. He arrived at the flag line marking the edge of the reversal as David pulled into view. The figure sagging at his side was Jillian. Her left arm was slung over Davids shoulder which was far too high to be comfortable, and her right arm wrapped ominously across her stomach. Once he recognized what he was seeing, he move d without thinking, crossing the unseen boundary into the reversal. He ran toward the two figures, who came into sharper focus as he approached. Jillian! Im fine! Her voice snapped, but lacked true conviction. Davids face appeared grim, although if he was suffering any nausea it didnt show. Jordan didnt care. With one hand he lifted Jillians arm from where it clung fiercely to Davids jacket, and in the same motion pulled her feet from the ground, lifting her to settle in his arms. His on ly thought was getting her the hell out of the reversal, even as she curled both arms around her stomach and rolled even tighter into a ball within his grip. It was Davids voice that cut through to him. Dont run with her. I tried it, it just makes her worse. 1 51 Jordan clenched his jaw with the effort it took to maintain a reasonable pace. The whole time he wondered if it was better to let her get more nauseated and get her out faster, or keep her feeling better, even though the yellow flag line did nt approach as quickly as hed like. He bit down on his tongue to keep from flinging out insults, to not yell at David. Her brows pulled tighter, and he could see the pain even though half her face was obscured by the neck of her jacket zipped all the way up and over her mouth. Come on, Jilly, hang in there. At last he made it, and even though he couldnt detect it with any of his usual senses, he felt his whole body react the momen t he crossed the boundary. He got her to the nearest triage tent and laid her out on a gurney. But that only lasted a second. She was sitting up before he had his stethoscope in his ears, her palm out to him. My heart rate is eighty eight. My resps a re twenty two, and I need a GI cocktail, . It would have made him smile at any other time. But the stethoscope was folded back around his neck in one fluid movement as he pulled a plastic cup from a makeshift shelf next to him. All the ingredients w ere there, and he felt like a bartender, measuring out Donnatal, then peeling back the foil lid on the dose of viscous lidocaine, revealing the eerily green goo. He poured it into the cup, not watching it sink under the Donnatal, his hands already grabbin g for the Mylanta bottle. He added the antacid, almost topping off the cup and ignoring a century of medical procedure as he stirred quickly with his finger. He handed her the concoction licking his finger clean as he watched her toss her head and shoot it back. It would numb her stomach and settle what she was feeling. At least at this stage in the game she didnt have to play guinea pig, suffering through all of it because they didnt know how to treat it, or if what they did would make her worse. He could at least offer a little relief. His hand found her hair; shed worn it down to give warmth from the wind, and his chest eased a little feeling her solid within his grasp. He prayed out loud, Its just something you ate. But she denied him. I have ear pain. 152 Chapter 15 Chapter 15 J ordan heard David walk into the tent behind him, a little out of breath. That fact revealing that he must have carried, or helped haul Jillian, a good long way. We didnt make it to the center. Jordan almost exploded with But he held it in check by the barest of glimmers. Jillian started speaking. No one was in there. We found a few bodies, though. The smell was enough to explain the nausea. She almost smiled. The f ield is stronger as we got closer in. Leave it to Jillian to be in mortal danger and worry about rattling off statistics. Ignoring David, he put his forehead against hers, easy enough to do since she was still sitting on the gurney, hunched over, guar ded against the pain that pulled her down. Theyre waking from the comas in Nevada. What! She sat upright, almost forgetting her own discomfort. He nodded. Not mentioning that they were all men. All prisoners. That there were only fifteen of the m. Less than a percent. Lucy Whitman appeared at the doorway just then, nudging David further inside in the process. I just got off the phone with Dr. Landerly at the CDC. He said to give you these. She held out a sheaf of papers, still slightly war m from the fax machine. It was Jillian who reached out for them, taking the folder from the perfect hand, Are these the stats on the prisoners who woke up? Lucy shrugged. Oh, I dont know. I just gather the papers. Jordan almost called her on he r lie, but Jillian was already reading. Sitting straighter, looking like the lidocaine had numbed her from the inside out. Theyre all men. All prisoners. The white counts are high when they wake. She thumbed through a little further. Noting how lo ng theyd been under, when theyd fallen, asking how many had fallen in that time, and what percentage of those men did these represent. She asked all the same questions, noticed all the same things in minutes that he and Landerly had spent the morning wo rking through. Her fingers shuffled quickly through the papers. Murder, murder, . . . murder, . . . arson and murder. . . What? Theyre all murderers. She looked up finally. Is that because theyre all from the same wing? Jordan pulled out t he cell and called Landerly even as she was talking. No, the wing that fell first wasnt this one. It wasnt maximum security. She paused and looked blankly at the canvas top of the tent, seeing something far beyond it. But none of these are maximum security prisoners. She read again. Single murders. Wifes boyfriend. Boss. Father . . . Landerly, listen to this. . . Jordan held the phone up to catch her thinking out loud, even though she didnt realize he was doing it. All one time m urders. . . . Other prisoners fell at the same time. But they arent awake. She paused long enough for Jordan to hear Landerly swear in the space she left. Oh, shit. Holding the phone to his ear, Jordan initiated the conversation again. Sir? 153 We have three more awake, since two hours ago. He heard the shuffling of paper through the line as Landerly looked to connect Jillys ideas. All murderers. No first degree. No longer considered a threat to society. Jillian tilted her head. Whos de ad? Another question he and Landerly hadnt posed, so hung up on their break that they hadnt stopped to look. He passed the question on to his boss, even as he heard his name hollered out from somewhere out in the tents. Bye. Again, he hung up on Landerly. Not even telling him that the brilliant idea of sending Jillian and David into the reversal had backfired. David had emerged unscathed with Jillian at deaths door. Landerly could call Jillian directly if he wanted. And surely she would fill him in on all the stats she had collected, along with her own vitals. Jordan figured she had a few more hours at the least. And maybe a day at most, before she slipped away. If he was going to help her he had to gather what information he could. So, without a word, he turned and ran from the tent, leaving her to her musings and the paperwork on the prisoners in Nevada. He followed the voice that was calling out to him. He didnt recognize it, although whoever it was knew him enough to boom his na me at decibels high enough to shake the tents. He paused a few times, at last emerging on the north side of the field. No one was there. Just the school stood silent in front of him, the long staircase off to his right was busy with scientists climbin g up and down the four story flight that hugged the hillside. The classrooms had been put to use for containment and as dormitories. The chem lab was probably seeing the best action it had since its inception. The voice called again, this time coming fr om his right, as his head turned he realized the windows were open down the enclosed stairs. He recognized the figures before the voice. Peppersmith and Becky Sorenson traipsed down the stairs, arms linked, neither of them looking up at him. Until Leo n opened his mouth to shout out Jordans name again. Here! He yelled back. His pace picked up as he realized the two were not in a friendly embrace after all, but that Becky was supported on Leons arm. Her right hand snaked up to rub her ear. He raced back and slammed through the doors just as Peppersmith hit the bottom of the stairs, bellowing as he came. Whats wrong with her? Jordan ignored the man, whipping off his stethoscope he unsnapped the front of Beckys heavy jacket and place d the bell at the top right side of her sternum. Her heart raced. Becky, whats wrong? But he already knew. My ears hurt. It started after we found this dead cat. . . . I But she didnt finish. She just rolled a little, curling into a ball wh ile Leon fought to keep her upright. He didnt ask didnt bother to look in her throat or her ears. The answers were in her eyes. She had , and she knew it. Lacking the will to lift her himself, Jordan looked to Leon, Just pick her up, woul d you? I have a spare gurney in the triage tent if you can carry her that far. Becky protested, and it looked like it wasnt for the first time. But this time Leon quoted doctors orders and hauled her up. She didnt appear to have it in her to fight her way down. And Peppersmith looked like he could carry a sleeping hippo through the jungle without breaking a sweat. Becky wouldnt be any trouble for him. 154 Inside three minutes they were back at the tent where hed left Jillian and David. Even before he saw her, Jordan knew she was on the phone with Landerly. He could hear her side of the conversation, the short spurts when she rattled off whatever her brain was clicking together. She sounded more alert, and as he rounded the tent flap she came into view proving him entirely right. Feeling better? Even as she answered, Yup, he set about making the next GI cocktail. Leon laid Becky out on the bed, and Jillian interrupted her own conversation to say nothing other than, youll feel better in abo ut five minutes, then launched back into it with Landerly. Handing Becky the mix, Jordan waited while she eyed it. He didnt blame the biologist. He wouldnt drink it either if he hadnt known what was in it. It was a milky, lime colored substance wit h a faint sharp odor, and the lidocaine lent it some sort of almost glow, even after it was mixed in. But she tipped it back, her face contorting at the texture if not the taste, and her mouth working even after she had finished swallowing it. They stood there, the five of them, looking at each other, and wondering. The two women sitting on the gurneys, Becky starting to perk back up. None of them deluded themselves, and none of them talked. Except Jillian, who chattered to Landerly, making little sens e to anyone around her. Jordan wasnt sure how long it lasted, the wild silence in the tent, punctuated by people passing by outside, Jillian updating Landerly on what was happening. He heard someones name being shouted, and didnt think much of it, unt il he heard another name, then in rapid succession a third and a fourth. He was poking his head out of the flap when Lucy appeared there in front of him. The last person he really wanted to see, but she was there in his face. Her own expression was le ss than chipper for the first time he had ever seen. And he was about to comment on it when she spoke. Jordan, I feel weird. Her hands went to the sides of her face, tracing the flush as it spread up her skin. Her mouth worked like she had a bad tast e in it, and her shoulders hunched forward as her eyes squeezed shut. . He touched her hands, pulling them away from her face, just as her eyes went wide. Only because he was looking at her so intently did he realize that she had focused over his shoulder. With a snap he turned to see Becky, as she swayed from her sitting position, her eyes rolling back into her head, eyelids fluttering. She sank forward, a victim of gravity, and missed hitting the ground only because Leon had exhibited som e lightning reflexes. The giant man laid her back down on the gurney, lifting her eyelids, but finding nothing. Jordan was about to help, all else aside, except that Lucy pulled at his arm, turning him away from the shocked expression on Jillians face . The intern looked markedly worse than she had just a few seconds ago, her color changing rapidly from the pink flush to a creeping gray tone. Her eyes lost focus and she grabbed her stomach. With a quick step Jordan moved closer to keep her from col lapsing into the ground just feet in front of him. But as he grabbed her he realized that he had cleared the entrance of the tent and he could see in several directions down the evenly placed rows. Doctors, techs, and suits were stumbling out of the tent s, reaching to others. Covering their ears. Opening mouths. Holding stomachs. And his brain clicked. 155 Still holding Lucy partially upright with one arm, he turned to face Jillian as his adrenaline kicked in and the world began to slow on its axis. But Jillian just looked at him, having figured out some portion of what he had seen from the expression on his face. But before he could tell her what was happening a voice cleared its way through the pandemonium. Jordan couldnt see him, but heard his words as the man ran past. It moved! The edge moved! Were in it! But Jordan and Jillian had both guessed that for themselves already. He turned to see that David and Leon had, too. The voice was joined by others, or maybe his brain just cleared to hear them all. Urging everyone who was upright to run. To get out, to clear the edge. Within their tent it was Leon who took action. He grabbed the limp Becky, lifting her into his arms. Jordans brain cranked overtime, rea lizing even as he watched it, that Leon had chosen Becky because she was limp and he had the most experience hauling dead weight. Peppersmith motioned to Jordan and David to grab the other two women, and even as Jordan yelled at him not to, Leon was out t he door with Becky hanging from his arms. Jordan watched as he followed the exodus, some of the men stopping to attempt to scoop up their fallen colleagues, none of them as agile as Leon with the spare weight. As Jordan watched, some of them gave up t rying and simply stepped over whomever they crossed. It was David who yelled out the open doorway. Dont run! You cant outrun it. The whole worlds going to snap any day now! His fatalistic cries falling on deaf or disbelieving ears. As Jordan watched, Lucy slipped from his grasp, her eyes going blank as she gave up her last hold on consciousness. Jordan bent to lift her, thinking to put her on the gurney that Leon had vacated when he left with Becky, when a second set of hands slid under her from the other side to help him lift. He looked up into the face of a local physician whom he had seen a few times, drawing blood and helping out with the people whose homes had been in the early parts of the reversals. With a slight tip of his head he g estured to David, Is that true what he said, about the whole world snapping? Jordan didnt know what to make of it. The pace was slowing, but the adrenaline was still ringing in his ears, still bringing the false endorphin high. He shrugged. Proba bly. The other doctor bore Lucys weight a