The heat and work caused him to have a headache, and he set his sights on stopping at Frieda’s for a slice of pie and an ice-cold glass of her special tea.
A few miles out from Seaver, Carl felt a rumble in his gut. The headache was causing him to get sick. Sun-induced migraines usually did. He hadn’t eaten much of anything. A half sandwich on his cousin’s porch when they took a break from cleaning preds.
It got to the point that the bottle of water he kept sipping wanted to come up.
Before it did and caused a mess in the car, he pulled over.
“Oh, boy.” Carl huffed a breath as he felt his stomach increasingly feel full. A sensation he knew only preceded vomiting.
Get it out, he thought. I’ll feel better.
The knot grew, the swarming feeling of nausea was overwhelming. He could feel the sweat beading on his forehead, and he made his way to the side of the road, fully expecting to hurl.
It didn’t happen.
He still felt sick. Half bent over, he opened his mouth, trying to get it out, but all that happened was a gagging reflex, some massive drool, and watering eyes.
He waited a few minutes. Perhaps it was because his stomach was empty. He didn’t know, but the unproductive attempt of regurgitation left him feeling worse.
Three miles to Seaver.
Go there. Take a break. Hit the pharmacy for some antacid.
He walked back to his still-running car and slid into the driver’s seat, grabbing his water bottle. He took a couple of hard, quick drinks while he closed the door and pulled the bottle from his mouth, feeling that uncomfortable lump roll down his esophagus from drinking too much, too fast.
He cringed some, using the back of his hand to wipe his still watering eyes.
Just as he brought the bottle back to his mouth to take a drink, he saw the blood on the back of his hand.
“What the hell?”
Not only was there blood on his hand, there were drops swirling around the remaining water in the bottle.
Slightly panicked, Carl reached for the rearview mirror and angled it his way to see his reflection.
Where he expected wet streaks to be from his eyes, he saw red… blood.
Still looking at his reflection, Carl opened his mouth. His teeth, tongue, even lips were blood stained.
He put the lid back on the bottle, tossed it to the seat, threw the car in drive and took off.
Three miles.
Three miles to Seaver and he’d get help.
Carl didn’t need to be a doctor to know something was terribly wrong with him.
Cass sat in one of the four old wooden chairs in the waiting area of the police station. Her back to the window while she watched Kit and waited. Much like Art and Bill had done.
He looked constipated. His face tensed with frustration and wanting, but Cass knew what caused it. Kit was staring at the screen, wishfully thinking and hoping that page on the internet would load.
“You know,” Cass said, “it’s like boiling water.”
“Shh.”
“You can’t watch the pot.”
“Shh.”
“And my speaking does what to slow down the dial-up even more?”
“Cass, please. I’m frustrated, I wouldn’t have started to read that article had I known there was a next page.”
“Did you disable images?” Cass asked.
“Yeah, but it’s slow right now. Really slow.”
“I understand your frustration. It was back this morning but I missed it. What’s the article about?”
“Sports.”
Cass laughed. “We have a sports page.”
“You cover little league, Cass. Totally different thing. What did you want? You know you’re not supposed to be in here.”
“Again I will correct you,” Cass said. “I’m not supposed to be here when the chief is here.”
“He’ll be here soon.”
“Then I’ll leave. I don’t know why you carry such a grudge about that,” Cass said.
“Because it disrupted the entire police station, Cass,” Kit said as he walked from behind his desk.
“Because you lost his assistant.”
“She quit because she was embarrassed.”
“I would be too if everyone knew I’d slept with the chief.”
“Stop.”
“Oh, you know it’s true,” Cass said. “She quit because it came out.”
“And we lost two officers over it,” Kit said.
“Because, like you, they knew what that disgusting bastard was up to.”
Kit huffed. “You are so argumentative. No wonder you keep getting married over and over.”
“Hey, now, I have been married twice and Mark doesn’t count.”
“What do you mean he doesn’t count?” Kit asked.
“I never even slept with him.”
“Oh.” Kit cringed. “Don’t tell me your personal and private business I don’t…” He paused. “You didn’t sleep with your husband?”
“No, it was a strict business arrangement. I needed insurance. I needed to go away and get well. You know that.”
“I thought he divorced you because of that.”
Cass shook her head. “Our mayor is a really good guy. He knew I wasn’t covered under Eb’s any longer. County has really good benefits. He didn’t ask for anything in return except never to bad mouth him and always have his back. Which is a given.”
“Wow, I didn’t know that.”
“Now you do.”
“Why are you here, Cass?” Kit asked. “Other than to stare at me while I wait for my internet pages to load.”
“Can I borrow your son?”
“For what? You need some work done at your house?”
“No.” Cass shook her head. “That TV reality celebrity is in town. She wants to film her show while she’s waiting on her repairs.”
“What’s her show about?” Kat asked
“Cooking. She meets with local small-town folks and they share recipes and cook strange things. She needs a cameraman. Can I borrow him?”
“Yeah. But…” Kit waved a finger. “You’re responsible for him. No bad influences from a celebrity.”
“I promise.” Cass held up her hand.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
“One more thing.”
“What, Cass? What? I really want to read that article. There are things happening in this world outside of Griffin.”
“That’s it,” Cass said. “The thing I need to talk about. According to our visiting father and son, that’s the very reason they are here.”
“Oh, stop.” Kit walked back to his desk and sat down. “You can’t possibly believe them.”
“And you don’t?”
“No!”
“Then why did you tell them not to leave town?”
“Because they blew me off for eight miles and the chief will have to deal with them.”
“Did they say where they’re from?” Cass asked.
“The father is from Texas. The son had a Baltimore license.”
“See. See.”
“See what?”
“They came so far. To escape to here,” Cass said. “Why would they say it if it wasn’t true?”
“To get out of a ticket. Pull a ruse. Who knows? We’re the perfect town to pull off a practical joke like that. We’re shut off from the world, we can’t jump online at any time to find out the truth.”
“Who on earth plays a practical joke about the end of the world?” Cass snapped.
“Um… Orson Wells.”
“Oh, stop. He was reading a story.”
“He intended to scare people,” Kit said. “They couldn’t go online either.”
“But Seaver can. Call the sheriff.”
“And ask what? If he heard the world is coming to an end?”
“No. Ask if he heard anything about a plague.”
“A… plague?” Kit asked with disbelief.