Sick

18

Tamara Costello was getting frustrated. The only new information she’d been able to find was that a food truck would be serving lunch about a mile back along the highway. Not very broadcast-worthy stuff.

Without anything new, her network, and all the other twenty-four-hour news channels, would just keep playing the same crap over and over, eventually venturing into areas of wild conjecture. It’s what always happened, and even though she was a part of the system, she hated that. This was supposed to be the age of information, not recycled garbage.

That’s why, after she completed her update with the brain-dead Catherine Minor at 11:10 a.m., she found a quiet spot and called her brother in San Francisco.

“Look at you getting all that air time,” he said as soon as he answered.

She couldn’t help but smile. “You’ve been watching?”

“Riveted. So, really, how bad is it?”

“No way to know for sure. They’ve got the whole town blocked off. I’ve tried to call people who live there, but all I get are busy signals. Even the cell towers are down. Thank God for my sat phone.” The network gave all its field reporters satellite phones in case they found themselves in areas that weren’t covered by mobile phone companies despite those fancy maps they were always bragging about.

“The whole town? Man, it must be bad. Gives me the creeps just thinking about it.”

She snickered and shook her head. “What are you? Ten?”

“Seriously, Tam. Think about it. Something so small you can’t even see can kill you just like that.”

She thought she heard his fingers snap. “Look, Gavin,” she said, trying to get back on track. “I was wondering if you could do a little research for me.”

“Ha! I knew that’s why you called. You want to know more about the flu? The town? Give me five minutes and I can pull together enough info to fill up an entire hour.”

While Tamara had chosen a life in the spotlight, Gavin preferred one that was more private, and spent most of his time in his apartment doing freelance software programming.

“No. The network can find that stuff out on its own. I’m interested in this Daniel Ash guy.”

“The man the CDC’s looking for?”

“Yeah. Who is he? Why is he important? Where are some of the places he’d go? If you can actually find him, I’ll owe you big for the rest of the year. An exclusive interview would be incredible.”

“From a distance, though.”

“What?”

“From a distance. I mean, if he’s infected, you don’t want to get anywhere near him.”

“Right. From a distance.” She paused. “Think you can dig up a phone number?”

“If he’s got one, I’ll find it,” Gavin said.

“And anything else you can learn?”

“Sure, sis. I’m waiting to hear back from a client, so I’ve got some time.”

“Thanks, Gavin. You’re my secret weapon.”

Gavin Costello hung up with his sister then sat back down at his desk. Most of his non-computer geek friends were surprised by his setup. They expected multiple monitors, couple of high-end tower computers, and peripheral hard drives and gadgets stacked to the ceiling. What he really had was a 13-inch PC laptop and a backup hard drive that ran automatically in the background over his Wi-Fi network. This gave him mobility on those rare occasions he worked away from his apartment.

Deciding to go the easy route first, he pulled up his current favorite search engine and typed in the name Daniel Ash. Not surprisingly, there was more than one. From the picture he’d seen on TV, the Ash his sister was looking for couldn’t have been more than thirty-four or thirty-five, so that helped eliminate several of the possibilities. Then he tried to see if any of the remaining had a California connection. Two did, but the picture on the Facebook page that one of the links led to was definitely not the guy. The other lived clear up in Eureka and appeared to own a plumbing business. What would he be doing in the middle of the desert involved in a flu outbreak?

Gavin heard his sister’s voice from his TV. The screen was placed so that all he had to do was swivel his chair around to see it. It looked like she’d moved to the opposite side of the highway, but what she was saying was pretty much the same thing she’d been saying most of the morning. Still, it always gave him a kick to see her work.

He grabbed his cell phone and typed in a text: Maybe you should report from the middle of the road next time. HA!

He sent it to her, muted the TV, then returned to his computer.

Five minutes later, as he was still trying to narrow things down, his phone rang. Expecting his sister again, he answered the call without looking. “Hey.”

Though the line sounded open, no one said anything.

“Tammy?”

Still nothing. He looked at the display.Blocked.

“Who is this?” he asked.

A click, and the line went dead.

“Whatever, man.” He dropped his phone on the table and returned his attention to his laptop, all but forgetting about the call.

Forty minutes later, he hit pay dirt.

It was a picture of a group of Army officers in a Fayetteville, North Carolina, newspaper from a few years earlier. The officers were from nearby Fort Bragg and had given a presentation to the local high school. One of the men in the photo was identified as Lieutenant Daniel Ash, and the more Gavin looked at him, the more he was sure it was the same guy in the photo shown on PCN.

“Nice,” he said, congratulating himself.

Several minutes later, he located information indicating that prior to being stationed at Fort Bragg, the lieutenant had spent a short time at Fort Irwin outside Barstow, California — less than sixty miles from Sage Springs. Where Ash had gone after Fort Bragg, Gavin wasn’t able to discover yet. Still, he knew Tammy would want to hear what he’d learned so far.

He grabbed his phone to call her, but for some reason he didn’t have a signal.

“What the hell?”

He always had a signal at home. It was one of the reasons he’d picked this apartment. In his business, he couldn’t afford to live in a cellular dead zone.

He decided to copy the links into an email and send them to her. He wasn’t sure if she could retrieve email on her sat phone, but she’d get it at some point. A split second after he hit SEND, he got an error message telling him his cable modem was not currently connected to the Internet.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Now he was really annoyed. He glanced at his TV. With the exception of a blue box across the center of the screen that read Channel Currently Unavailable, the screen had gone black. Apparently, the whole cable system, or at least the part that came into his building, was out of commission.

Just his luck that both it and his cell phone would go out at the same time. Maybe they were tied together somehow. A massive communications glitch. That should make the news. Well, if anyone was still getting a signal so they could watch it.

He set the email to send as soon as the connection returned, and got up to grab a soda out of his refrigerator. As he was deciding whether he wanted to make a sandwich to go with his Dr. Pepper, someone knocked on his door.

He was barely out of the kitchen when whoever it was pounded again, more urgent this time.

“Just a minute,” he yelled.

He looked through the security peephole in his door, but the person outside seemed to be covering it up. Had to be Dustin. He was always doing asshole things like that.

“Hilarious,” Gavin said loud enough so Dustin could hear him. Donning a reproachful smirk, he opened the door. “What the hell are you bothering me for at this—”

“Not a word.”

It wasn’t Dustin. It was a man holding a gun pointed at Gavin’s face.

“Sure,” Gavin said, then realized he’d broken the rule and added, “Sorry.”

The man stepped toward him, backing Gavin into the room. There were two others behind him, both big like the first man, wearing similar dark suits, and also armed.

Once everyone was inside, the last man in shut the door.

“Anyone else here?” the first guy asked.

“No,” Gavin said, shaking his head vigorously from side to side. “Just me.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying.” Gavin’s voice cracked a little, and he could feel his hands shaking at his side.

The two other men headed into the hallway that led back to the bedroom. They were only gone about thirty seconds before they reappeared.

“Clear,” one of them said, then stepped carefully into the kitchen with his partner.

There was another “clear” and they both returned.

“Your name’s Gavin Costello?” the first guy asked.

“Yes.”

The man touched a Bluetooth headset mounted on his ear. “We’re secure. You can release the building.” He looked at Gavin, then nodded toward the desk. “That your only computer?”

“What? Uh, no. I have a Dell in my closet.”

“Is the laptop the only computer you use?”

“Yes. Yes, it is. You want it? It’s all yours.”

Who the hell were these guys? If they were trying to rob him, they were the best-dressed home invaders in history. Whoever they were, though, if they just wanted his computer, great. They could take it and their guns and leave.

The main guy glanced at the other men. “Grab it.”

The slightly smaller of the two took the laptop from the desk. “Phone,” he said, then raised Gavin’s cell into the air so the others could see it.

“Bring it,” the main guy said. “That your only phone, Gavin?”

“Yeah. Yeah, only one. I don’t even have a landline.”

“All right. Let’s go.”

Gavin tried not to show his relief. They’d be gone in just a second. And he was going to be okay.

But then the man grabbed his arm and pushed him toward the door. “You, too.”

“What? Why me? What do you need me for? You got my computer. You’ll get good money for that.”

“No more talking or I pull the trigger.”

The man said this so matter-of-factly that Gavin bit his lip to keep from saying anything.

The main guy said, “We’re secure. You can release the building.”

Five seconds later, two doors down the hall, Mrs. McFadden’s cable came back on.

Good thing, too. One of the local stations showed reruns of Perry Mason every day at noon, and she hadn’t missed an episode in over a year. The moment the TV signal had gone out, she’d tried calling the cable company, but there’d been something wrong with her phone, too. Now all was right with the world again, and Perry would be on in just a few minutes to embarrass that stuck-up Hamilton Burger like he always did.

Of the eighteen other apartments in the building, there was only one additional person home, a man named Frank Bushnell. He worked graveyard dispatch for the police so he was sound asleep. The outage passed without him ever knowing anything was wrong.

In apartment 11, Gavin Costello’s apartment, as soon as the cable kicked back in, the laptop’s Wi-Fi reconnected with the Internet. While the main guy was telling one of his associates to grab the computer, the email program was going through its normal cycle. This time, after confirming that it was once more connected to the cyber world beyond Gavin’s walls, it sent off the single message waiting in the queue, finishing its operation just seconds before the associate slammed the screen shut.

A few hundred miles southeast, Tamara Costello’s sat phone pinged with an incoming email. At that moment, though, Tamara was on camera and didn’t hear it arrive.