“No offense meant, Buck, none at all. You know me; I always save my offending for after I’ve been served my food.”
Buck gave him a false glare, shoveled the omelet and hash browns onto a plate, and rang the bell, “Order up!”
Cooper ate quickly. He had a forty-five minute drive to his next stop and liked to call on David Kirby at eight, when he opened. The three egg omelet was delicious. Cooper remembered the first time he’d ordered the Sicilian, about three years ago. He remembered marveling at how good it was and castigating himself for never having thrown some mozzarella on an omelet before. Cooper devoured the two slices of bacon, fat dripping hot off the side. Farm fresh and local. He never understood fellow business travelers on the road who would go to some chain restaurant when a local diner was available. Nothing beat the quality of local food that hadn’t been shipped halfway across the country. The hash browns, like usual, were just so-so, Buck’s method a little too mushy for Cooper’s taste. The sign over the grill proclaiming, “The Best Hash This Side of Idaho” kept Cooper from ever asking for a crispier helping. Cooper downed a second cup of coffee and got up to pay his bill, leaving the newspaper behind for the next customer. He glanced at Buck, who was frantically preparing a slew of orders that had just come in, and stepped over to the register.
“Well, Lou, time for me to run,” as he put his money on the counter.
“OK, darling. We’ll see you the next time through. I promise to buy lots of hardware and tools I don’t need next payday just so we can get you out here sooner.” Her warm smile made the food taste even better.
He waved goodbye to Buck, who dipped his head in recognition, but quickly returned to the busy grill in front of him.
“Thanks. You do that! Jake keeps telling me he needs a new bike,” he retorted.
It was the last time he would ever see her.
A half hour into his drive, he was lost in thought. The sedan glided down the highway, too smoothly for his taste. He knew the car was the right one for his work and the amount of miles he put on. But, he missed his 1973 GMC pickup badly. He preferred the way its bumping and bucking forced you to pay attention to the task of driving and staying on the road. Yet, more fun off the road! The radio hummed in the background. Earlier, he had heard the local news and farm reports. Then, he’d switched over to a national news channel. Cooper was a man who liked to stay abreast of the news. From his father, he had ingrained the duty of citizenship like few Americans did nowadays. He couldn’t have counted for you the number of times his father had told him of the “blood spilled by our forefathers” so that we could have the freedom to read what we chose. He had considered it a betrayal of their sacrifice to not read and stay involved in the political lifeblood of the country. Yeah, the old man was one who belonged to an earlier era. I guess I do too.
A light rain started to fall and Cooper flipped the wipers on; the steady click-snick-click rhythm adding to the monotony. Within minutes, the smell of fresh rain and slick asphalt filled the car and Cooper breathed it in, welcoming the change. He loved the smell of rain, which was reason enough for him to tolerate the long Northwest winters and the omnipresent dull gray.
The news announcer’s voice from the radio slapped him across the face and brought him abruptly back to attention.
“And, in a story we have been following closely since yesterday, there are more alarming reports coming out about the illness first reported in Seattle, Washington. As the toll rises, authorities remain unable to identify the pathogen responsible. Most likely, they say, it is a new virus, but they cannot substantiate that as of yet. So far, there are twenty-three dead in Seattle with another hundred hospitalized and over four hundred members of St. Andrews under quarantine. There are additional reports that several dozen others in Seattle have fallen ill with similar symptoms and are seeking medical attention. In Florida, Royal Caribbean has issued an emphatic statement that the vacationers were not infected by anything related to the ship’s operation. As you may recall, there are reports of hundreds of cruise goers from cities across the country falling ill from that trip. In New York City, we have received initial reports of hospitalizations, but no deaths, that appear related. The Centers for Disease Control has dispatched staff to all of the affected cities to directly assess the situation and assist in the investigation. In some good news related to this breaking story, many of those initially hospitalized in Seattle have recovered fully and are returning to their homes.
In other news, China has demanded a high level meeting with US officials to discuss, ‘the future of relations between the two nations’…”
Cooper’s mind drifted back toward the road. I hope this turns out to be just another flu-pandemic scare. We’ve had a spate of them the last few years. If it is one, it’s moving fast. That should mean it will end faster, right? Poor families. Maybe the kids have all recovered at least. They usually mention it when any children die. Since the day Jake was born, any news of others’ dying—especially children—affected him deeply.
He shook his head to shed the morose thoughts and his fingers punched a button to bring him some music instead. AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” came screaming through the car’s speakers. He smiled, needing the distraction, turned up the volume, and allowed the screeching guitar to drown out the news’ alarms.
“Living easy, lovin’ free. A seasoned drinker on a one way ride…”
Chapter 2
Later that night, Cooper’s world was thrown into disarray.
“Hello?” Elena answered the phone, her voice deeper than normal.
“Hi, honey. What’s the matter, you don’t sound so good?”
“I just have a little sniffle. Just a sore throat and my nose is stuffed up a bit,” she replied.
Cooper’s eyes sharpened their focus on the wall facing west toward home, despite the fact that he was in a dimly lit motel room a few hundred miles away. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m OK. I’m sure I will be better by morning. Crazy Eddie was taken to the hospital this morning though. Maryann called an ambulance and everything. Said he went from being normal to having a fever of a hundred and six within six hours.” Crazy Eddie lived across the street from them, in a red barn-styled home. He’d earned the nickname in his youth for how he rode on the motor cross circuit, but everyone still called him that. Truth be told, he enjoyed the nickname, especially now that it contrasted sharply with his comfortable job as an insurance salesman.
“Really? Are you sure you’re OK? Do you have a temperature?”
“No. Not the slightest. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
Cooper breathed a shallow sigh of relief, but his brow remained tight. “How’s Jake doing?”
“He’s OK, nothing going on with him. I’m sure it’s just a late flu bug hitting. How was your day? Did that floozy Lou try to get you to sleep with her again,” she asked, reviving a long-running joke between the two of them that started when Cooper had returned from his first trip to Redmond five years ago telling her about this wonderful waitress he had met and how friendly she’d been.