“Maybe not a plague. It infects like the plague,” Cass rambled fast. “Skin. Lungs or stomach. It’s a sickness. Maybe not. More of a thing.”
“A thing,” Kit repeated calmly.
“They were vague.”
“I’d say so. If they said a thing is infecting people. What exactly did they tell you?” Kit asked. “Specifically.”
“Well, I lied to them…”
“Of course.”
Cass grumbled. “I told them I was leaving town and Art, the son, said not to. That something was going to happen, it would cause people to get sick and die. It wasn’t a virus, but it was real and everywhere around the world was going to experience it. They used the word experience.”
“But not Griffin?”
Cass shook her head.
“Did they say why we were safe?”
“They said there were several safe places. We were closest when they took off to run for safety. Something about it carrying in trade winds, jet streams. The dad has a map.”
“Did you see it?” Kit asked.
“No. He said it’s in his luggage.”
“I’m sure.”
“And that it would eventually dissipate but not without causing complete devastation.”
“That’s a pretty bold thing to say.”
“You’re being sarcastic.”
“No, I’m not,” Kit said. “I’m trying to understand why you believe them.”
“I don’t know if I believe them,” Cass said. “They looked and sounded so serious. He asked how long the internet and cells would be down. I told them there’s been times it was down for days. And Art said by the time it comes back up, there will be no one left to post.”
“Griffin is safe. What about Seaver?”
“I asked that,” Cass replied. “They said it was iffy. But they knew for sure Griffin was fine. So call Seaver. Have them go online and see if there’s been any reports of strange illnesses or occurrences. I’d call but they won’t take me seriously. I’d tell you to look it up online, but—”she pointed to the computer—you’re still waiting on the sports article.”
Kit exhaled slowly and sat back, rocking some in the chair. “Fine.” He leaned forward again and grabbed the phone.
“Thank you. Thank you very much. I’m going to head to your place to talk to your son.”
“He should be home. They didn’t have school today.” Kit dialed.
Cass walked to the door. “Let me know what they find out.”
“Sure thing.”
She looked back once more; the phone was to his ear. Cass walked out, stopped to fix her shoe, and looked in the window as she passed. She watched Kit hang up and she rushed back in. “What the hell, Kit? Was that a farce to shut me up? Wait until I leave then…” She noticed the look on his face, a far-off glance of concern. “Kit?”
Kit lifted the phone and dialed. “They didn’t answer.”
“The police department didn’t answer? Well, we don’t answer.”
“Yeah but it transfers to county after six rings. This…” He hung up and redialed.
“Again, no answer?” Cass asked.
Kit shook his head. “No. But I’m sure it’s something other than the end of the world. Go do what you were doing. I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks.” Cass walked back to the door
“And, Cass,” Kit called out to her.
Cass paused at the door. “Yeah?”
“I’m sure it’s fine and… Hello, Sheriff? Yeah, Officer Modine, Griffin Police. Good. Good, how are you?”
Cass smiled and gave a thumbs-up, mouthing, “Let me know.”
“Sheriff can you hold on?” Kit covered the receiver. “As soon as I hear anything.”
Nodding a thanks, Cass, a bit more upbeat and relieved, walked out.
“Yes,” Kit said. He watched as Cass walked by the window and waved. Once she was out of his sight, and knew he was out of hers, Kit hung up.
The sheriff was never on the line, again, there was no answer.
Maybe it wasn’t right to deceive Cass like that. But the last thing Kit wanted was for Cass to get scared, and start worrying others, especially when she was on her way to get his son.
There was an explanation for the lack of answer in Seaver, and Kit was certain he’d find out what that was as soon as he got through to them.
The motel didn’t really have a name. The sign said ‘motel’ and that was good enough for Bill and Art Bohr.
While Art was inside room eight, Bill stood outside. His arm raised slightly, rested on the awning support beam while his fingers dropped down to his scalp. His head felt itchy—that was nothing new for Bill. Whenever he was tired, he always seemed to scratch.
He took the last draw of his cigarette, flicking it out to the parking lot at the same time the door opened.
He turned around. “Done?” Bill asked.
“Done,” Art answered. “All clean. Nothing.”
“Good.”
“And uh… I think you can smoke in this room.”
“Nonsense.” Bill stepped inside. “I don’t think a hotel in the country allows smoking.”
“There’s an ashtray.” Art pointed and closed the door.
“Hot damn, I get to hear you bitch,” Bill said. The room was typical hotel looking. Two beds, a dresser, television, and in the corner a small makeshift kitchen.
Bill plopped to the bed with the grace of a sack of potatoes.
“Tired?” Art asked.
“Yep. Today has been a whirlwind.”
“You aren’t kidding.” Art sat on the other bed. “It couldn’t be any other way though.”
“No, it could not. We had to wait until the last minute.”
“No room for error,” Art said. “Even a couple miles can make a difference.”
“You know it wasn’t skill, right?” Bill asked. “I tried. It was more luck.”
“Whatever or however you came up with the calculations you were right. Thank you.”
Bill exhaled sharply. “When will we know for sure?”
“I’m ninety percent certain we are good. I’ll do a check around town tomorrow morning, some of the obvious spots. But if nothing is there. We’re good.”
“And do you plan on telling anyone?” Bill asked. “You brought everything you need to prove it.”
Art nodded. “I figure they’ll need an explanation but I’ll wait until they ask. Really the proof will be in leaving Griffin. Then they’ll see.”
“When will it be safe for them to do that. For us to leave?”
“Thirty-six hours from right now. But really, Dad, leave? We might as well stay. Because if I’m right, and I’m certain I am.” Art stood up and paced. “There’s really nowhere left for us to go.”
It had to be the end of the strangest day. Cass was tired but not sleepy, and she couldn’t with a clean conscious go home without stopping by Marge’s place to give her an update on the accident story.
Cass tried to call Marge’s house earlier in the day but there was no answer and Cass figured Marge was at the hospital with her son. So after a few hours at Ada’s, watching Lena have a production meeting with Kat, Cass decided to stop by Marge’s before she dropped off the boy. Fill her in about the sick deer story. How the deer was the reason for the accident.
Then again, if the two strangers in town were right, there were more ominous things happening. Cass wasn’t convinced the strangers were lying. She also wasn’t convinced that the deer that went rabid weren’t infected with whatever ‘thing’ it was that Art and his father were running from.
Cass parked her car on the street by Marge’s walk, leaving Kat in the car. She could see him in the front seat, slouching down, probably bored. Cass knocked on the door, rang the bell, and waited. The lights were on, yet there was no answer. She peeked through the window… nothing.
Finally, Cass gave up and returned to her car.
“Sorry about that,” she said to Kat.
“No problem.”
Cass smiled and looked at the boy. Sixteen, tall like his dad, but with a teenage boy build. His face so much like his mom’s. “Are you hungry?” Cass asked. “I know you were hoping to try that cake you filmed her baking.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t have hours to wait.”
“No, you didn’t. Maybe you should have had some of Ada’s chicken.”
Kat shook his head.
“Brass Ball and Beer is still serving. Wanna burger?”
“No, but thank you. I have to get home. It’s Hamburger Helper taco night.”
“I’m sorry, Hamburger Helper and tacos?” Cass asked as she drove down the street.
“Something like that. With a veggie and green Jell-O.”
“Wow, Kit goes all out,” Cass said sarcastically.
“He tries. He does.”
“I know. And I’ll owe you that burger, how’s that?”
Kat nodded.
It wasn’t long before they arrived at Kat’s house. Cass could drive from one end of town to the other in less than two minutes.
She got out of the car at the same time as Kat.
“You don’t need to walk me,” Kat said.
“Oh, I know. I need to talk to your dad. Tell him about me picking you up tomorrow and find out what his rules are.”
“Rules?” Kat stopped directly before the porch.
“Yeah, I’m responsible for you.”
“Like a babysitter?”
The front door opened and Kit stepped onto the porch. “Hey,” Kit said. “How was it?”
“Good,” Kat answered. “Dad, I don’t need her to babysit.”
“Oh, I know. You’re a good-looking kid. I have her making sure that Hollywood woman doesn’t try to get her claws into you.” He opened the screen porch door. “Go inside. Wash up. Dinner is on the table in a second.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cass folded her arms and stepped onto the porch.
“Thanks for driving him back,” Kit said.
“No problem. I wanted to talk to you. I’ll be picking him up at ten tomorrow. He’s gonna film Lena doing a garden episode. I’ll make sure she doesn’t… hit on him.”
Kit smirked.
“What’s my rules here, Kit? Can I leave him with Ada or do I need to be by his side?”
“He’s fine if Ada is around. I just don’t know this Hollywood person.”
“Well, as it is a cooking show, maybe I’ll introduce her to you since Kat wanted to rush home for this special meal you do.”
“Hey, now don’t knock my Monday Madness Meal day.”
“So this is every Monday?”
“Yep.” Kit nodded.
“Good thing for you she’ll be in town another week. You may get your chance.” Cass backed up. “I’ll let you go. Have a good night.”
“Cass. Did you… did you wanna stay for supper?” Kit pointed back. “You’re welcome to. We have plenty.”
“Kit, I don’t ever think I’ve been in your house before. Or invited in.”
“You’re not the most social person you know. Or haven’t been over the last few years.”
“You’re right,” Cass said.
“But you gotta do what you gotta do to get through,” Kit stated. “So what about staying. I know you’re just gonna hit the BBB for a burger. Have a home-cooked meal.”
“You really made green Jell-O?”
“Every Monday.”
“Then thank you. I think I will.”
Kit opened the screen door for her. “On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“No talk of sick deer, car accidents, the indiscretions of the chief of police, or end of the world.”
“Good lord, Kit.” Cass walked into the small house. “You just scratched off all of my hot topics. What am I gonna talk about?”
“How about for starters, how much you’re gonna love”—Kit showed her the kitchen table—“Hamburger Helper tacos.” He pulled out a chair. “Sit down. I’ll get a place setting for you.” He backed away and hollered, probably forgetting Cass was so close. “Kat! Now! Dinner!”
His loud voice made Cass jump a little, but then she laughed. She looked at the dinner set out on the table. Sure enough Hamburger Helper inside of taco shells.
It smelled good. Cass wasn’t sure how it would taste, but she knew one thing: the long day with odd events had been triggering things she hadn’t had triggered in a while, and dinner with the Kit-Kat combo, delicious or not, would be a perfect diversion.