He waited with the woman until she closed her eyes, then her labored breathing slowed to a halt.
Nile moved on.
He felt like a revolutionary soldier on the battlefield, going through the injured soldiers, one by one, and putting them out of their misery.
That was what he did.
A doctor of death.
Only Niles felt he was a doctor of death days before the ‘dusting’ went bad.
He would walk the entire Crete hospital, then disinfect and move on.
He’d stop at every facility on his way to his destination, realizing that in twelve hours it would be in vain. He’d still do it.
Niles was certain there were plenty of places to check on his way to Griffin, Arizona.
When Ada first saw them, she didn’t know what to say. Were they actually food? A pot pie size nest made out of hash brown potatoes, lined with sausage and an egg was in the middle. But that wasn’t all.
It was a bountiful breakfast laid out. So much food she was glad that Eb stopped by to give an update on the bus. At least he’d eat.
“What did you do?” Ada asked Lena. “Stay up all night.”
Lena chuckled. “Oh, no. I do this all the time. Not to this extreme. But it’s all a matter of timing. You can get this all done in ninety minutes. Not bad at all. I wanted to show you what you could serve if you made this a bed and breakfast.”
“This is amazing,” Eb said. “The coffee is out of this world.”
“It’s store brand,” Ada replied.
“No,” Lena said. “I had that in my bag.”
“Really?” Ada rushed to the coffee pot. “Then I have to try.”
“I’ll get it for you. Sit. Eat,” Lena instructed. “Cass, Kat, and Brian will be here soon.”
“Why Brian?” Eb asked.
“Cass said something about her wanting him to do a real human-interest story.” Lena shrugged.
Eb nodded knowingly. “Yeah. Brian is known for his creative obituaries.”
“He’s good,” Ada said. “Did you read the obituary he did on Mrs. Stevens, the history teacher?”
“Oh my God, yes,” Eb replied. “Three times.”
Ada accepted her coffee with a thanks. “Lena, if you did all this what is Kat gonna film?”
“I thought we could film the garden and you can explain your technique.”
“You mean put me on the TV?” Ada asked.
Lena nodded.
“No. Not this old face.” Ada sipped her coffee. “This is good.”
“Glad you like it. I can get you camera ready. You’ll look twenty years younger.”
“That’s something to think about. Maybe Brian won’t be so ready to write my obituary.”
Cass’ voice entered the kitchen. “Brian isn’t coming. He texted me last night said he wasn’t feeling well. I think he’s just embarrassed because his psoriasis is acting up.”
Ada cringed. “He does get it bad.”
“Must be something in the wind,” Lena said. “John’s fax said he and the girls have poison ivy.”
“It’s that time of year,” Eb said.
Cass peeked at the food. “This looks great.”
“Have some,” Lena told her. “I’m making Eb eat, he came to tell me about the bus.”
“Be ready next week,” Eb said, then looked at Kat as if he’d just noticed him. “Holy cow, Kat. You got tall.”
“You’ll have that,” Kat replied. “Especially when your dad is tall.”
“He is,” Eb said. “How old are you now?”
“Sixteen. I’ll be seventeen next month.” Kat sat down at the table.
“Are you driving?” Eb asked.
“Just started.”
“Wow.” Eb sat back. “Time goes fast. You realize, Cass, Jordie would be driving now too.”
“Yeah,” Cass’ voice cracked. “Can you excuse me. I have to get back to town.”
She started to leave.
“Wait,” Lena called. “Take your breakfast buffet muffin with you.” She handed her one wrapped in a towel.
“Thank you.” She passed a smile to Lena, lifted her hand in a slight wave, and hurried out.
“Was it something I said?” Lena asked.
“Nope,” Eb answered. “Something I said.” Eb slipped for a moment, was solemn, but quickly bounced back and resumed his conversation with Kat.
11.
NO MORE RUNNING
Brass Balls and Beer wasn’t just a pub for happy hour and evening socializing, it was place to eat when those in Griffin just didn’t want the atmosphere of the friendly family diner. Or in Kit’s case, being in ear shot of too many people.
He ordered three coffees from Glen and said he’d let him know about breakfast. He wanted to see what his table companions wanted.
When Art and Bill arrived, they seemed relieved that Kit wanted to speak to them in less than legal surroundings, that the coffee was good, and the breakfast menu was still available.
Bill looked up to Glen when he set the plate of eggs down. “Thank you.”
“So you’re believing us,” Art said to Kit.
“You’re not telling me anything,” Kit replied. “Really, other than see who left town, that could tell us something and set up a… roadblock.”
“Just for today,” Art said. “Tomorrow will be fine.”
“And are you going to tell me exactly what this… thing… as you put it, is?” Kit asked.
Art nodded. “I will once I know if I was right or wrong. There are a lot of variables and if I spew them out without visual proof as an explanation it won’t make sense.”
“Hmm,” Bill hummed out. “Kind of early to be drinking. Or is that normal in this town?”
“Dad, I’m not drinking,” Art said.
Kit saw Bill stare at the bar and when he looked over, he saw Cass. She sat center of the bar, a glass before her with an inch of brown liquid, more than likely whiskey. “Can you… can you guys excuse me?” Kit stood up.
Cass tapped her forefinger on the side of the glass steadily, causing the whiskey to ripple slightly. It was hypnotic, and she stared at it. Wanting to drown all in her mind, but there wasn’t enough whiskey in the bar to do that.
For the second day in a row her mind couldn’t stop thinking.
Going back.
You realize, Cass, Jordie would be driving now too. Eb had said.
And just like that, Cass was back.
Their car was a mess and they’d only been on the road three hours. Food wrappers, empty coffee cups, and the car ashtray that fit in the cup holder was already overflowing. Eb chain-smoked when he drove.
They laughed, the radio went from off then on, but more so they watched her parents’ blue sedan ahead of them. They stayed a few car lengths behind, following them on the family vacation.
“Fifty-seven,” Eb said as they drove. “Whoa. Wait. Fifty-nine.”
“He’s creeping up to the speed limit.” Cass laughed.
“Your father will never drive the speed limit. Ever.”
“I don’t know what changed,” Cass said. “I remember my mother always yelling at him to slow down.”
“He probably never sped,” Eb told her. “Just not your dad. Your mom is probably still telling him to slow down.”
“We should have been the lead car,” Cass said.
“No, then we’d be doing that thing where we pull over every twenty miles to wait for them.”