“Christ, Cass, so dramatic.”
“I’m serious,” Cass said. “What if surviving marauders come in here with their lawlessness and…”
Kit tossed her keys. “Only if that happens. You can hit the armory room in the back.”
“So you’re going home?”
“Yes, thank you. And do me a favor, sit behind my desk. I’m waiting on a webpage to load.”
Cass walked over to his computer. “Sports again?”
“No. The news.” Kit headed toward the door. “Call me if there are any problems. Thank you, Cass. I mean it.”
“You’re welcome, and Kit? Relax some okay. Play a game with Kat. Get some rest. Tomorrow is a big day.”
“Yeah, I know and I am not looking forward to it. I’m trying not to think about it. Tomorrow we find out if we really are the only bright light left in this world. I honestly…” Kit tapped the door. “I’m scared to find out.”
With a ding of the bell, Kit was gone before Cass could say, “Me too.” She sat back in his chair, thinking about the next day, watching that progress bar hold steady at thirty-nine percent, and praying constantly in her mind that they were only out of touch and that communication was down, that the rest of the world was still just as bright as Griffin. Inwardly, Cass knew that probably wasn’t the case.
14.
NOTHING VENTURED
May 7
The police station was quiet, all that needed to be had been said in the moments after Kit left.
Cass argued she didn’t think he should go alone, but his rebuttal had merit. If indeed it ended up being dangerous then only one person in Griffin would be affected.
Art was there, waiting to find out, as was Mark.
Kit asked Art, “Are you sure? Are you really sure it’s safe? We’re sending him to Seaver.”
“He’s going on his own. That was his decision and you know that,” Art said. “And it’s safe. I’d bet my life on it. I know the spores die off.”
Art didn’t stay long, he had work to do and he and Craig still had two patients holding on.
Oddly, Lena was there. She was using the land lines and fax. She had Ada making calls as well. She’d come up with a plan. Cass thought it was a good one. She had enough people in her phone’s contacts—business acquaintances, friends, publicists, chefs, and even fans. They spanned the globe. Some she didn’t even know. That didn’t matter, there were enough that someone out there somewhere would answer.
She wrote down numbers for Ada, then took her phone to the station.
Cass watched her. Lena didn’t look like the same woman she’d met two days earlier. Her hair was in a ponytail, she didn’t wear makeup. Not that she needed it, she was naturally beautiful, but it wasn’t the Lena she projected to everyone.
She tucked a falling strand of hair behind her ear and picked up the phone again. She looked at her cell, then dialed the number.
It was the same routine. Lift, look, dial, listen… hang up.
With each failed attempt her face grew more drawn. Cass knew the reason behind Lena’s diligence to reach someone. It wasn’t to see if the world was alive, it was for hope that her children were alive. Lena hadn’t said it, Cass didn’t need her to. She knew all too well that desperate, devastated look and burden that Lena carried.
No one told her to give up. Cass certainly wouldn’t. She supposed she wanted to find that hope as well.
A hiss of static caused everyone to jump. It was followed by Kit’s voice.
“Griffin, this is Modine.”
His voice was a little distorted and soft.
Mark dove for the radio. “We can barely hear you,” Mark said. “You must be close.”
There as a pause, then static. “Three miles. I’ll radio when I can.”
“Be careful.”
“Roger that,” Kit said. “Out.”
Mark held on to the radio for a few moments, then set it down and slowly turned around. “He’s almost in Seaver.”
“We heard,” Cass replied. “And… we’ll know soon enough.”
“Yep,” Mark said. “We’ll know if anyone else is out there.”
“God.” Cass closed her eyes. “Let’s hope.”
Her eyes immediately popped wide open and she spun in her chair when Lena shrieked out excitedly.
“Oh my God.” Lena stood up. “This is Lena Feeny. Is that really you, Trixie?”
Cass was in shock, and hopeful… Lena had reached someone. Now all they needed to know was where.
Seaver, AZ
Anxiety swelled within his being the second he saw Hillbilly Jim’s truck. Things were just worse when he saw the birds, each of them showing signs of being infected by the fungus.
Where was everyone? Had they all gotten so sick, that they went back to their homes?
More than likely that was the case.
He thought of those in Griffin, the women who innocently had their nails done only to be contaminated by Patty.
The rash began on the hands of each of them. The ones with more complicated nails had it the worst. It spread from there. Some of Ada’s tinctures slowed down the progress, but whether it was too late when they found them or not, bottom line… the tinctures only slowed down the inevitable death.
His first thought was to radio, but he knew he needed some answers. He wanted more than anything to find out why everyone just left. That wasn’t the case. They hadn’t left at all.
In a deep loud, booming voice, he called out, “Anyone there? Is anyone in Seaver? Hello!”
He walked slowly down the street avoiding the bird carcasses, stopping in front of the police station.
Hating to do it, and fearful of what he would see, he walked in.
Immediately the smell of death and decomposition hit him. His paper mask did nothing to block it. He brought the back of his hand under his nose and turned his head with a wince. When he did that he cringed, thinking, Son of a bitch, I touched that door handle. And he recalled Art telling him not to touch his face. He hoped if anything was on his gloved hand, it didn’t slip through the fibers of the mask.
But that cringe and wince brought him an answer, the fate and whereabouts of the Chief of Police of Griffin.
Kit didn’t see him at first when he walked in, but there he was on his side, lying on the reception area couch. His arm dangled, clutching a blood-stained wastepaper basket next to him. Kit turned and didn’t have to walk far to see not only the sheriff, but two other Seaver officers. All at their desks, heads down, each with a phone to their ear.
Kit could only imagine they were trying desperately to call for help.
He didn’t need to see the others to know that Seaver was dead.
Perhaps he would drive through town, using the PA just to call in case someone had beaten it.
He left the police station and saw him as soon as he stepped outside.
The sight of the man standing across the street caused a stir in Kit. The man wasn’t from Seaver, or at least Kit didn’t think so. He wore a biohazard suit, but he wore it without the hood or gloves. He carried a case in one hand, in the other a duffle bag.
“I heard you calling,” he said with a British accent. “It’s fine. You don’t need the mask. The spores and fungus are inactive.”
“How do you know?” Kit asked.
“I checked. I have been here since early this morning. It’s been long enough.” He stepped to Kit. “Niles Proctor.”
“Kit Modine. So… where is everyone?” Kit asked. “Have you looked?”
“Yes, in their homes or the Urgent Care. You name a place in town, you’ll find them. No survivors, despite them trying.”
“Do you think they know what happened?” Kit asked.
“Without a doubt. About two hours after the blanket extermination, authorities were urging people to get inside, stay inside, seal up for a day. But… they had already been exposed. From what I could tell, it entered the blood stream within minutes and their fate was sealed.”