Kit was dumbfounded. Mark was joking. People liked Kit, he thought. But he didn’t know for sure. No one in Griffin really said much or complained. That was a good thing, because he truly didn’t expect them to say much or complain about the lockdown either. Typically, they’d just brush it off as lack of communication with the outside world. Kit believed they’d handle it. He hoped, because he didn’t want a repeat of last October and the ridiculous alien invasion drama.
Bill wasn’t a science guy. He left that up to his son and Bill was proud, but he knew Art was down on himself, and just wanted to conquer the thing he’d created.
It was a beast.
One didn’t have to be a scientist to know that.
Most spores on fungi fall off and die within minutes; the spores on Art’s fungus lived a day. Long enough to find a new host.
Art had made the hotel into his own research center and clinic. The owner wasn’t too agreeable at first until the police made the rounds announcing the emergency. Then the owner offered whatever was needed.
It was getting late; Bill had tried unsuccessfully to get a signal. He wanted to get in the car and drive until he got one, but it wasn’t safe, so he paced a lot around that motel parking lot, looking at his watch, as Art went in and out of rooms to treat those seven people that had been infected by Patty the nail technician. He didn’t venture far from the office because Bill was on phone duty. Ada was calling constantly with suggestions.
She even dropped off a concoction that stunk to high heaven. Bill chuckled when he remembered Art getting frustrated with her.
“I appreciate it,” Art said.
“Soak cotton and place it on the wound, soak it.”
Art smiled politely. “Ada, honestly, we’re not talking nature where the frontier way can kick its butt. This is a manipulated fungus. I think only science can beat it.”
“Give the frontiers way a shot. I’ll be back with more things to try.”
Time was of the essence. Art could only guess how long it took to get into the blood stream and all the patients had been infected by way of skin. He and Dr. Craig were working overtime trying things. Everything.
After grabbing a beer from the motel owner’s fridge, Bill spotted Art coming out of room nine, making his way to room twelve, where he had a lab set up.
“Art, hold up,” Bill hollered and made his way over.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Take a break.”
“I can’t. I will, but not right now.”
“How is everything?”
“Well, number nine doesn’t seem to be progressing. I have a skin culture I want to look at. I think we may have paused it. If that’s the case, we just need to figure out how to stop it and cure it.”
“Stinky tincture?” Bill asked.
“Yeah, how about that?”
“Ada is the type of woman who won’t let you live that down.”
“Don’t I know it,” Art said. “Maybe she has viable ideas for stopping this all together. You know she never got the pred bugs.”
“Really? That’s amazing. Art, I understand you wanting to help these women if you can. But after their fates are sealed, it’s over, right?”
Art hesitated in answering. “I don’t know, Dad. The spores need a living host. Fungi continuously adapt and mutate. I know from testing previously it does not attach to plants or grass.”
“If it kills everything it attaches to, it has to die out. Right?”
“I would think. I am not going to say for sure, though, because there may be something out there that can be a carrier and spread this thing all over again. For that,” Art said, “I just want to be ready.”
“Son of a gun,” Kit cursed out loud, staring at the computer in the police station. “Thirty-eight percent? Things loaded faster in 1995.” He tossed a pencil and sat back. He was bored, but at least the phone had stopped ringing.
The questions were driving him nuts.
“If I have an open wound will I get it?”
“Only if you’re exposed.”
“I was in Seaver last week…”
“Can I just hang out all night at Brass Balls and Beers?”
He had been going all day with it. They’d discovered seven people, all women that had developed symptoms. All clients of Patty’s. He and Officer Floyd were the only two officers left in town. The chief never returned, and the other officer happened to be in Flagstaff.
Floyd took two men up to Miller Run Road. They were on deer patrol. Kit was fearful the deer could make their way into town, and they had to be eliminated before that happened.
It was crazy.
He did laugh when he thought back to earlier in the day when he started driving around making the announcement. Kit was less than enthusiastic.
“This is a county health emergency. You are advised to stay in your home for the next twenty-four hours and avoid all contact.”
He passed Cass just outside Brass Balls and Beers and she waved him down.
“You’re not really getting through,” she said. “No one is even listening to you.”
“I’m doing what I can. You have a better idea, by all means.” He showed her the microphone.
“Oh, really?” she asked excitedly. “Can I?”
“Be my guest.”
Cass got in the car.
“Attention Griffin, there is an airborne contagion sweeping across the nation. Stay inside. Stay alive. Report any suspicious symptoms to the Griffin Police Station. You’ll be informed what do to. Stay inside.”
She had a tone of dramatic seriousness to her. Kit didn’t think that would work either until he returned the station and the phone rang off the hook.
Now it was quiet. He supposed everyone was sleeping or getting close to it.
The dangling bell above the door jingled and Kit looked up. “You’re supposed to stay home.”
“Oh, please, I haven’t been home all day,” Cass said, walking into the station. “I’ve been at Brass Balls and Beers answering the calls.”
“People are calling there?” Kit asked.
“Oh sure, they knew I was there. Anyhow, between that and Ada digging plants and herbs, mixing strange concoctions for Art, I’ve been busy.”
“Anything working?”
“I don’t know. I do know Mary Wentworth and Cleo Smith are bad. Worse than the others.”
“That’s sad to know. Why are you here?”
“Go home.”
“What?”
“Go home, Kit, your son is there waiting on his dinner and his father. He’s scared. He doesn’t say it, but he is. Go home.”
“I would love to be with my son. I can’t leave the station.”
“You leave it every night.”
“Yeah,” Kit said. “But I turn it over to county. County is not answering. We should have an official member of the force in here.”
“Floyd?” Cass asked.
“He’s stopping any infected deer.”
“So, okay. Make me a deputy.”
Kit laughed.
“I’m serious.”
“Cass, only the chief can do that and it needs to be signed by the mayor. The chief isn’t coming back. I think we know that.”
“So does that mean my restraining order is now null and void?”
“Oh, Cass, stop.”
“Kit you need to go home.”
Kit sighed out, rocked a few times in his chair, and stood. “Fine.” He went back to the chief’s office and returned handing a badge to Cass. “You’re hereby deputized. I’ll get Mark to make it official in the morning.”
“Do I get a gun?”
“No!” Kit snapped.
“Can I carry my own?”
“You don’t need a gun to monitor the station.”
“Yeah, but we’re the one live spot in the world. A bright light in a dark world.”