“How did you survive?” Kit asked.
Niles ran his hand down his suit. “I was in a sealed lab and wore this when out for the first thirty-six hours. I knew it was coming. Our team all divided up, trying to get to safe areas. I didn’t want to run, not without seeing if there was some way I could help.”
“Did you?”
“In a way. I found something in the restaurant.” He raised the duffle bag. “Seems some sort of camera crew was in town. The camera was actually out and in the hand of one of the men. It’s broken, but I’m sure we can retrieve footage from the hard drive or insert drive. Whoever it was filmed the last days of Seaver.”
Kit exhaled heavily, there was something about hearing those words that saddened him even more. “Where are you headed now?”
“My final destination. This was my last stop.”
“And where would that be?” Kit asked.
“Griffin.”
Kit only nodded once. Somehow, hearing that from Niles didn’t surprise him at all.
Los Angeles, CA
Trixie Powers for the most part led a life of leisure. She’d skyrocketed to fame after a sex video of her and a famous rock star leaked online. It wasn’t her doing, but she was glad. One four-minute video of shame for a life of fame was worth it.
Her social media profiles had a combined following of close to twenty million people, which really was nothing compared to a lot of people she knew and was friends with.
When she had returned from a night of partying, she’d staggered into her bedroom holding a just opened bottle of champagne. She’d given strict instructions that she didn’t want to be disturbed and to let her sleep until she woke up; a message for the cleaning lady who came in on Mondays to leave her room be, and one for her personal assistant who seemed to always be annoyingly opening her blinds at eight a.m.
She’d had a hard night. Arguing with a friend and being seen by the paparazzi. She had to defend her actions on social media, then immediately issue an apology for being insensitive.
She was worn out.
Before going to bed, she grabbed a bottle of water from the little fridge in her bedroom minibar, placed it on her nightstand with three ibuprofen, and then after chugging some champagne, she fell asleep.
When Trixie woke, she did as she always did: sat up, swiped up the ibuprofen and water, then lifted her phone as she swallowed the pills.
She first noticed the time of two p.m., but the alert of the message from Anita, her assistant, caught her attention.
“DO NOT LEAVE THE ROOM OR HOUSE.” It said more, but she had to unlock it to read the whole thing. Clearly it was some sort of joke, Trixie thought. Then she read the message.
“DO NOT LEAVE THE ROOM OR HOUSE. The mass pred bug extermination went bad. It’s killing people. Do not leave your room until you know it’s safe.”
Immediately, she replied, “Where are you?”
“Home,” came the reply.
“Is this for real?” asked Trixie.
“Yes,” replied Anita. “The news is still on for now. They just issued the warning. Before I left your house, I put a towel under the sill of your door. Stay safe.”
“What about you?”
“I’m already exposed.”
Trixie had no idea what that meant or how serious it was. While firing up the browser on her phone, she grabbed the remote and put on the television.
“Right now we still have power,” the female newscaster said. “How long it will remain, we don’t know. Right now, again, if you are just joining us, the one-hour safety window was wrong. If you have not left your home, you are advised to stay inside, seal all doors and windows, and do not leave. If you are experiencing any of the following symptoms…”
Trixie increasingly panicked with every symptom the newscaster gave. Even though coffee was an option in her room, she grabbed the warm champagne and drank.
That newscast was now two days ago. It had gone off the air just after midnight the first day. The cameras kept running, showing an empty news desk and eventually even the cameras went down.
Trixie still had power, that was a good thing.
She didn’t leave. She had food and water in her room, but with her home set far back on her property she couldn’t see the street or know what was going on outside.
She’d spent the two days trying to get answers, reaching people, and had nearly given up until Lena called.
She wasn’t the last one left. Not by a long shot.
Griffin, AZ
Griffin, AZ
When death came for the woman in room nine, it was rapid and vicious. Art also believed treating her and being unable to save her was inhumane. It prolonged her suffering and her family’s pain as they watched her leave this world.
He covered her and then called Fillman’s funeral home to tell them he had the last of them. Fillman’s could retrieve the body another day.
That was it.
Room nine’s passing marked the end of the fungus in Griffin, or so Art believed.
Had he failed the woman? After all, he wasn’t a medical doctor. He was a scientist, one far removed from treating people.
Maybe if someone far more experienced had been there. Then again, not even Dr. Craig could do anything.
It was hopeless.
After showering, Art grabbed a soda from the vending machine and walked toward town. They’d be hearing from Kit soon. Last he checked in, Kit had arrived in Seaver and no further word was given.
It was safe for Kit to be there. Art was a hundred percent certain; he knew the spores.
It was strange for him when he walked down the street, hearing the noise coming from the car shop. Life wasn’t stopping in Griffin. When the twenty-four hours were up, people had gone back to work.
Back to life as usual.
If Kit came back with the news that Seaver was a dead horse, then life would not be normal again. At least not for Art. Maybe the people in Griffin were different.
He was starting to believe that when he heard the shop, saw people coming out of the coffee shop, going into the diner, and two men sat outside the barber shop.
They hadn’t any clue, Art thought. None whatsoever or they didn’t care.
Perhaps they didn’t realize or know ten people in their little town had died.
He’d ask Cass. He saw her pacing back and forth outside the police station.
“Hey,” Art called out when he approached her.
She turned around. “Hey.”
“Waiting on Kit, I suppose.”
“Yeah, he radioed he’s on his way back.”
“Did he say anything?” Art asked.
“Nope. Left me hanging. It’s like waiting on the season premiere of a show to find out what happened.”
Art smiled and his eyes caught the badge on her belt buckle. “So, a badge?”
“I’m a deputy now. It was official this morning.”
“Wow, congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“Things seem normal. I mean the barber shop is open. Eb is in his shop.”
“They’re still setting up for the festival too,” Cass said. “Did you see that?’
“No, I didn’t. Which makes it even stranger. Do they not care about what’s going on?”
“They… they don’t know really what’s going on. Well, Eb does. No one else. We told them only what we announced,” Cass said. “So to them, they beat the mark and are okay.”
“They don’t know about their fellow townspeople dying. It was almost five percent of your population.”
“They don’t know. They will,” Cass replied. “Mark, our mayor, will talk to everyone tonight and Walt is running a special edition of the paper. I wrote three obituaries this morning.”