“What about price gouging merchants?” Another man asked.
“What they are doing violates a federal law that prohibits unreasonable price increases during a civil emergency. Furthermore, it’s morally reprehensible. Now there are some economists who argue in favor if it, but I’m not one of them. Therefore, any reported unfair price hikes to staple commodities such as food, water, milk, batteries—and this is my personal directive—is to be placed into police custody. That is, our custody. Furthermore, his place of business will then be shut down and will remain unprotected by our troops. If people are seen taking essentials from the premises, so be it.”
Mays yawned, rubbed his eyes and summed up. “Okay folks, let’s get out there and do a kick ass job. Hopefully we’ll be out of here in a few weeks and we can get back to the job of defending America against terrorists.”
T W E N T Y – F I V E
11:16 a.m.
After checking into a downtown motel, Ned fell across the bed and slept for nearly four hours. He dozed fitfully, and rose feeling even more lethargic. Checkout wasn’t for another twenty-four hours and he decided to lay low for the duration. The rooms that flanked his were occupied, so he didn’t feel as if he’d be on his own in an emergency.
A shower helped revive him, but Ned still felt the need for fresh air. He cracked the window, pulled up a chair and pondered his future. I’m gonna fix Valerie’s wagon and I’ma turn those thugs in, too. The sister will suffer, too, because she’s harboring criminals, but why should I give a damn? By the time they’re caught I’ll be long gone… long gone…
He thought about his trip and the fact that all he would have is his car, the clothes on his back, a rifle, and the last $320 he’d taken from his bank account. I’ll go as far as any man ever traveled on three hundred dollars. I can make it across the country back home to Louisiana.
He was comforted by his belief that his relatives would put him up until things became better and he got back on his feet. With that, Ned stretched and ventured outside. The skies were gray and rain was a certainty. He marched to the lobby and purchased a road map, newspaper, and snack foods which included several small bags of Bugles, a couple of Snickers bars, Honey buns and five bottles of apple juice.
Ned asked the hotel manager for a plastic bag, put his goods in it and then jogged across the street to the liquor store, where he purchased a pint of Myer’s rum, a can of Coca-Cola, bag of ice and the latest issue of Black Tail. He jogged back to the motel parking lot.
He pined for a companion to go on the road with him. Valerie would have been the perfect traveling companion, but that bitch acted like someone auditioning for a porno movie.
The thought of her and Cash making love soured his stomach. He missed her and the front of his trousers revealed how much. As he made his way up the stairs, he saw a woman standing in the doorway of the room next to his. He forced himself to hold eye contact, hopeful she wouldn’t spot his visible erection. She wore an open black silk robe with a sheer gown underneath. Her legs were sleek like a ballerina’s and the skin suntanned to a delicate shade of brown.
When the woman saw Ned, she gave him a friendly smile and cooed, “Good morning, sweetie.”
“Uh, good morning,” Ned called back, nearly tripping over the top step as he came onto the landing. Damn! She’s got curves like I ain’t seen in ten years of dreams.
“Looking for some company, daddy?”
“You can stop in for a drink if you’d like.”
“Give me five minutes.”
“Cool,” Ned replied.
He entered his room thinking, Who the hell needs Valerie Poseidon?
***
11:58 a.m.
Garnett Charbonneau arrived at Pittsburg Community Bank where he met with Walter Graham, leaning against his car in the parking lot waiting for him. Charbonneau stood a full head taller than Graham and was in excess of three hundred pounds. The man’s face was red, decorated with a white walrus-type mustache and wire-rimmed glasses. He’d been the bank’s head of security for ten years and on the night of the robbery, he’d conducted interviews with everyone on duty.
After the two shook hands, Graham unlocked the bank door and they went inside. The lights were out and their footfalls echoed on the tiled floor. The bank was usually open on Friday’s, but signs posted on both entry doors informed customers business wouldn’t resume until Monday morning. The notice advised customers to use the ATM on the west side of the building that faced the street.
Graham settled behind his desk. A TV sat on a push cart to one side of the room and two chairs were positioned across from it. A DVD player was hooked up to the television and a remote that set on the manager’s desk. Charbonneau took a seat, crossed his legs and folded his hands on his lap.
“Mister Charbonneau, the reason I invi—”
“You told me the reason for this sit-down while we were on the phone,” Charbonneau said coolly. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Graham hit the PLAY switch on the remote and the two sat in silence as nearly seven minutes of action unfolded on screen. Charbonneau scoffed at the men on screen and referred to them as “Lucky amateurs.”
“So do you think they’ll be ID’d?” Graham asked, sounding hopeful.
“Probably not and with all that’s going on, anyone who knows something has probably forgotten key details.”
“Do you think the girl in the video was in on it?”
“She never resisted their attempts to take her as a hostage and it’s obvious she’s wearing a wig. Another thing, she was wearing large sunglasses. Why the guard on duty let her enter the bank without asking her to remove them, and then failed to keep an eye on her, is beyond me.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“Talk to the man you let view the video. I think he knows something and is reluctant to talk,” Charbonneau said.
“He said the video was damaged, but I think his DVD player was on the fritz, because as you can see—”
“Does he usually take Thursday’s off?” Charbonneau snapped.
“No. He’s here when scheduled, rain or shine.”
“Hmmm. Call him into work.”
“Today?”
“Right this minute.”
“And should he resist?”
“Tell him you’re mandating it and his job is on the line. Don’t tell him I’ll be here.”
***
12:27 p.m.
Word spread fast through the rustic town of Morden (Manitoba, Canada) that “creatures” were devouring human flesh and even attacking livestock. By the time the story found it’s way to the Mayor‘s office, he’d seen similar stories on CNN and knew that the problem was American in genesis. He went on CBC-TV and told his constituents as much.
Within fifteen minutes, the Canadian Prime Minister was conferring with the U.S. President, who told him Americans scientists were looking into similar events on U.S. soil and were certain that the cause was “rain contamination.” The President went on to say, “It’s likely the Russian’s launch of a reputed ‘weather satellite’ was in fact a stealth chemical device that emitted an experimental substance into the atmosphere over North America.”
Meanwhile, the Morden police force was overwhelmed as they battled against townspeople turned zombies. The Canadian Department of Defense sent a contingent of soldiers from Winnipeg into the theater of battle. The troops took control of the situation utilizing tear gas and combines that they used to steamroll, slice up and decapitate undead attackers.
***
After “The Morden Incident” word of the bizarre events began spreading via wire services. The United Nations met in an emergency session, but due to the lack of facts and a claim by the U.S. State Department that they were “looking into atmospheric anomalies orchestrated b a foreign government,” much was debated and nothing resolved. The Russians, having got wind of the American cover-up, denied the accusations on the floor of the U.N. during a Security Council meeting. The R
ussian Ambassador to the U.S. blamed the U.S. of “Fabricating a story and refusing to accept that their own chemical weapon trickery backfired on them.”
His American counterparts offered no rebuttal.
Meanwhile the Russian Prime Minister claimed the U.S. President was, “Determined to start a new era of animosity between our great nations.”
***
12:35 p.m.
Open the door to your…Ahhhhh, mystery date…
When Ned opened the door for his motel neighbor, the 1960’s board game ditty popped into his head. He smiled and waved the woman inside. She wore a T-shirt, shorts and cheap perfume, but it alleviated the stale, moth-ball scent that permeated the room. On top of the desk against the wall he’d set the ice, Coke, two plastic cups and the bottle of Meyers. As the woman shimmied past, Ned was hypnotized by the swish in her hips and how the thin T-shirt she wore accentuated breasts in no need of support.
It wasn’t until she took a seat on the edge of the bed that Ned noticed she’d brought along a bottle of Cinnamon Schnapp’s.
“Not a rum person, I take it?” He asked.
“I like rum. It’s just that I have this touch of Schnapp’s left, so I figured I might as well kill it.”
Ned dressed both cups with ice, and then pulled out the chair from under the desk. He handed her a cup and she poured some of the contents of her bottle into it. Ned poured himself some Meyers and chased it liberally with ice and Coke. He chose to sit near the bed, but not so close where she might be made to feel uncomfortable.
“We haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Ned Lathan.”
“Diamond Morgan,” the woman replied. “How long will you be here?”
“Just a few days. I’m headed to Louisiana.”
“How do you know they’ll let you out of the city? I heard all roads are closed off by the National Guard.”
“They can’t do that shit,” Ned said irritably. “This is America. I think this so-called roadblock is being exaggerated.”
“My boyfr…uh, baby daddy called me last night and said he got out because one of his cousins was working the road he left by.”
“I take it you two aren’t together?”
“He ain’t shit.” When she spoke, her face twisted into a look of utter disgust. “I’m glad he’s gone.”
“Like I said, I think anyone can leave if they want to,” Ned replied. “All you have to do is get up and go.”
“I’ve been here in Pittsburg most of my life. My mother came here from Jamaica back in the mid-70’s. My father is Creole.”
Ned sniffed a lie, he detected no hint of an accent and second, she was a whore. Ned’s view was, other than used car salesmen and lawyers, there’s no bigger liar than a whore. Such women often advertised themselves as some exotic mix, as if it made them special. He was certain her name wasn’t even Diamond. That was another trick of whores, to call themselves by exotic monikers—Saffron, Sapphire, Onyx and so forth. He imagined her real name to be ‘Hortense,’ with the accent on the first syllable.
“What’s so funny?” She asked. There was a hint of indignation in her voice.
“I just…I dunno. You don’t sound Jamaican, that’s all.”
“I’ve been in the States for over twenty years, so I wouldn’t have my accent anymore…Mon.” She uttered the last word with an exaggerated accent, and as they laughed, Diamond leaned forward and knocked over her bottle. The booze spilled onto the desk. “Dammit!”
“Don’t trip.”
Ned set his drink on the desk next to hers and in his haste stumbled past her on his way to the bathroom to get a towel. Donna reached quickly into her bra and took out a torn pill packet and shook a white, powdery substance into Ned’s cup, then stirred it with her finger. The substance added to his drink was rohypnol (“Roofies”), a tasteless, odorless drug used to treat insomnia, but often misused as a date-rape drug. She balled up the foil package and rolled it under the bed.
Ned came back to the room with a hand towel and soaked up the spilled booze. While cleaning, he stole a peek at her crotch. Diamond’s “kootchie-cutter” shorts framed her bulbous camel toe, and Ned stared at it like he’d discovered a long lost painting by DaVinci at a garage sale.
Diamond noticed his obsession, but said nothing.
Ned shook his transfixion and tossed the towel into the corner of the room and returned to his seat. He composed himself and poured Diamond a generous amount of rum, leaving little room for chaser. She turned her body so that he could have the letterbox view of the treasure between her legs. Ned’s eyes were drawn right to the spot, as if it was magnetic and his orbs were iron.
She drank quickly, certain that Ned would try to keep up.
“Take it easy, baby,” Ned advised. “We got all day.”
Ten minutes later Ned began blinking constantly and Diamond reached over and placed her hand on his leg. She urged him to finish his drink, which he did. Afterward Ned’s eyes became narrow, bloodshot slits.
“Ready to screw?” Diamond asked.
Ned mumbled something that sounded like, “Uh-huh,” and stumbled to the bed. He pulled his pants down and fell onto his back. Diamond reached into his shorts and leaned over as if she was about to go to work on him, until she heard him begin to snore.
“No fool like an old fool,” she whispered.
Diamond reached into his rear pants pocket, dug out his wallet and counted the money inside. It totaled $283, which she scoffed at before shoving the money into her brassiere.
She fetched the towel he’d used to clean up the spilled drink and wiped his wallet with it, and then placed it back in his pocket. Diamond grabbed the cup and her empty bottle of Schnapp’s, then tapped on the wall separating the rooms. Seconds later, a skinny man in a sweatsuit and a gold chain poked his head in the door.
“Got him, baby?” He asked.
“Yeah.”
“How much?”
“A funky ass two-hundred eighty bucks.”
“C’mon, and I’ll drop you off at your mama’s.”
She made sure not to leave her fingerprints on the doorknob when she and her boyfriend departed.
***
1:18 p.m.
When Jayson realized his phone was ringing, he rose from the sofa with one eye cocked open and picked up without bothering to read his caller ID. He experienced a surge of adrenaline as he listened to Graham’s voice.
“We need you to come in immediately.”
“For what? We’re closed.”
“We’d like to speak to you about the DVD. Your attendance is mandatory, which is to say your continued employment here depends on it.”
Jayson knew it was pointless to object, or ask if they could converse over the phone. His biggest mistake, however, was not taking note of Graham’s use of the word “we.” He told Graham he would get to the bank as soon as possible, which was a lie. He needed to collect his thoughts, to anticipate what the Bank Manager’s line of questioning would be.
During the time it took for him to shower, dress and grab his car keys, Jayson was no closer to solving the mystery of his being summoned than he was when Graham’s call came. He climbed into his car and drove slowly toward the bank, shutting off the radio the minute he backed out of the driveway. He needed to keep his head clear of distractions. The last thing he wanted to do was get tripped up, especially since he was running on fumes.
By the time he swung into the parking lot, he knew what his strategy would be, but was angry with himself for acquiescing. I should have told him I was tired, and if he threatened to fire me, I should have called his bluff. He passed Graham’s Jaguar and the cobalt-colored Lexus that belonged to Charbonneau.
He unlocked the front door to the bank, disarmed the alarm and walked swiftly toward Graham’s office. He entered without knocking and found the two men sipping Chivas Regal. An empty glass was perched on the edge of Graham’s desk. Jayson forced himself to control his respiration as he walked over and took the empty chair nex
t to the Security Chief. He was positioned so that he could divide his attention between both men.
“Good afternoon,” Jayson said.
“Afternoon, Owens,” Graham said. “I’m sure you know Officer Garnett Charbonneau.
“I’ve seen him here a few times.” Jayson nodded a salutation and then focused his eyes on the DVD atop Graham’s desk.
Graham’s fingers tapped the DVD case. “He has some questions he’d like answered.”
“Okay.” Jayson adjusted his body toward Charbonneau.
Charbonneau came to the point. “You took yesterday off, right Jayson?”
Jayson thought it was presumptuous for the man to call him by his first name.
“Yes, I did.” His voice was strong, forceful.
“Why?”
“I wanted to.”
Charbonneau raised an eyebrow but remained calm. “You’ve been employed here six years, and other than vacation time, you’ve only taken four days off, and never a Thursday.”
“I never thought it was important to take note of such things.”
It was time for Graham to intercede. “Please do not use that insolent tone, Jayson. You are only complicating matters.”
“I’m not being insolent,” Jayson replied. “I’m simply answering his questions. When I feel the need for insolence, I’ll simply refuse to answer any more questions and leave.”
“I’m just asking you to be cooperative.”
“The fact that I’m here shows I’m cooperative.”
Charbonneau gave Graham a slight nod of the head, and he resumed the interrogation. “I take it, Jayson, that you reviewed the DVD of the robbery that took place last night?”
“That I did,” Jayson answered.
“About what time did you view the evidence, Mister Owens?”
“Graham dropped it off after two-thirty this morning, so I’d say it was after three a.m., though I don’t know the exact time.”
“Would you say it was five minutes after three? Ten minutes after three?”
“No, I won’t fathom a guess at all. I don’t know what time it was exactly and I’d rather not speculate.” Jayson was not going to let the white man paint him into s corner.
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