“No shit!” Warren said. “So it’s up here too. I heard about it on the news last night. There’s a lot of people down in the city all revved up about it.”
“And for good reason,” Jack said. “I think you’d better tell me what you’ve heard.”
EPILOGUE
NEW YORK CITY
The game to eleven was tied at ten apiece. The rules dictated a win by two, so a one-point layup wouldn’t clinch it but a long two-pointer would. This was in the back of Jack’s mind as he dribbled upcourt. He was being mercilessly hounded by an aggressive player by the name of Flash whom Jack knew was faster than he.
The competition was fierce. Players on the sidelines waiting to play were loudly supporting the other team, a sharp contrast to their typical studied indifference. The reason for the change was the fact that Jack’s team had been winning all night, mainly because Jack was teamed up with a particularly good mix of players that included Warren and Spit.
Jack normally didn’t bring the ball downcourt. That was Warren’s job. But on the previous play, to Jack’s chagrin, Flash had made a driving layup to tie the game, and after the ball had passed through the basket it had ended up in Jack’s hands. In order to get the ball downcourt as fast as possible, Spit had stepped out. When Jack gave him the ball, Spit gave it right back.
As Jack pulled up at the top of the key, Warren faked one direction and then made a rush for the basket. Jack saw this maneuver out of the corner of his eye and cocked his arm with the intent of passing the ball to Warren.
Flash anticipated the pass and dropped back in hopes of intercepting it. All at once Jack was in the clear, and he changed his mind about passing. Instead he let fly one of his normally reliable jumpers. Unfortunately the ball hit the back of the rim and bounced directly into Flash’s waiting hands.
The tide then swept back in the other direction, to the glee of the onlookers.
Flash brought the ball rapidly downcourt. Jack was intent on denying him the opportunity of repeating his driving layup, but inadvertently gave him too much room. To Jack’s surprise, since Flash was not an outside shooter, Flash pulled up and from “downtown” let fly his own jumper.
To Jack’s horror it was “nothing-but-net” as the shot passed through the basket. A cheer rose up from the sidelines. The game had been won by the underdogs.
Flash high-stepped around the court holding his arms straight and stiffly to his sides with his palms out. All his teammates slapped his palms in a congratulatory ritual, as did some of the onlookers.
Warren drifted over to Jack with a disgusted look on his face.
“You should have passed the friggin’ ball,” Warren said.
“My bad,” Jack said. He was embarrassed. He’d made three mistakes in a row.
“Shit,” Warren said. “With these new kicks of mine I didn’t think I could lose.”
Jack looked down at the spanking-new pair of Nikes Warren was referring to and then at his own scuffed and scarred Filas. “Maybe I need some new kicks myself.”
“Jack! Hey, Jack!” a female voice called out. “Hello!”
Jack looked through the chain-link fence separating the playground from the sidewalk. It was Laurie.
“Hey, kid!” Warren said to Jack. “Looks like your shortie has decided to pay the courts a visit.”
The game-winning celebration stopped. All eyes turned to Laurie. Girlfriends and wives didn’t come to the courts. Whether they weren’t inclined or whether they were actively excluded, Jack didn’t know. But the infraction of Laurie’s unexpected arrival made him feel uncomfortable. He’d always tried to play by the playground’s mostly unspoken rules.
“I think she wants to rap,” Warren said. Laurie was waving Jack over.
“I didn’t invite her,” Jack said. “We were supposed to meet later.”
“No problem,” Warren said. “She’s a looker. You must be a better lover than you are a b-ball player.”
Jack laughed in spite of himself, then walked over to Laurie. Behind him he heard the celebration recommence, and he relaxed a degree.
“Now I know the stories are all true,” Laurie said. “You really do play basketball.”
“I hope you didn’t see the last three plays,” Jack said. “You wouldn’t have guessed I played much if you had.”
“I know we weren’t supposed to meet until nine, but I couldn’t wait to talk to you,” Laurie said.
“What’s happened?” Jack asked.
“You got a call from a Nicole Marquette from the CDC,” Laurie said. “Apparently she was so disappointed not to get you that Marjorie, the operator, put her through to me. Nicole asked me to relay a message to you.”
“Well?” Jack questioned.
“The CDC is officially putting the crash vaccine program on hold,” Laurie said. “There hasn’t been a new case of the Alaska-strain influenza for two weeks. The quarantine efforts have worked. Apparently the outbreak has been contained just the way the seventy-six swine flu was.”
“That’s great news!” Jack said. Over the past week he’d been praying that this would happen, and Laurie knew it. After fifty-two cases with thirty-four deaths there had been a lull. Everyone involved was holding his breath.
“Did she offer any explanations as to why they think this has occurred?” Jack asked.
“She did,” Laurie said. “Their studies have shown that the virus is unusually unstable outside of a host. They believe that the temperature must have varied in the buried Eskimo hut and might have even approached thawing on occasion. That’s a far cry from the usual minus fifty degrees at which viruses are typically stored.”
“Too bad it didn’t affect its pathogenicity as well,” Jack said.
“But at least it made the CDC-engineered quarantine effective,” Laurie said, “which everyone knows isn’t the usual case with influenza. Apparently with the Alaska strain, contacts had to have relatively sustained close contact with an infected individual for transmission to occur.”
“I think we were all very lucky,” Jack said. “The pharmaceutical industry deserves a lot of credit too. They came through with all the rimantadine needed in record time.”
“Are you finished playing basketball?” Laurie asked. She looked over Jack’s shoulder and could see that another game had commenced.
“I’m afraid so,” Jack said. “My team lost, thanks to me.”
“Is that man you were talking with when I arrived Warren?” Laurie asked.
“That’s right,” Jack said.
“He’s just as you described,” Laurie said. “He looks impressive. But there’s one thing I don’t understand. How do those shorts of his stay on? They are so oversized and he has such narrow hips.”
Jack let out a laugh. He looked back at Warren casually shooting foul shots like a machine. The funny thing was that Laurie was right: Warren’s shorts defied Newton’s law of gravity. Jack was just so accustomed to the hip-hop gear, he’d never questioned it.
“I guess it’s a mystery to me too,” Jack said. “You’ll have to ask him yourself.”
“Okay,” Laurie said agreeably. “I’d like to meet him anyway.”
Jack turned back to her with a quizzical look.
“I’m serious,” she said. “I’d like to meet this man you are in awe of and who saved your life.”
“Don’t ask him about his drawers,” Jack cautioned. He had no idea how that would go over.
“Please!” Laurie said. “I do have some social sense.”
Jack called out to Warren and waved him over. Warren sauntered to the fence, dribbling his basketball. Jack was unsure of the situation and didn’t know what to expect. He introduced the two people, and to his surprise they got along well.
“It’s probably not my place to say this…” Laurie began after they had spoken for a while. “And Jack might wish I didn’t, but…”