“Oh? Yeah?” David asked with a smile that had grown bigger. “Anything?”
“You bet,” Gray said enthusiastically. “Anything.”
“Anything?” David repeated. “Can I hold you to that?” David asked.
“Absolutely. I can say those words to you, but to no other person on the planet, because I don’t trust anyone that much except for you,” Gray assured him.
The following day, one day closer to their release, David was feeling a bit more upbeat, or at least not quite so pessimistic, so rather than wait for a call from Gray, he decided to initiate one. But he was surprised when he wasn’t able to get through to Gray. He kept getting the strangest error that the person he was trying to contact was out of range and that the call could not be completed. David didn’t know what that meant, but he kept trying to get through. He wanted to talk more about coming home because it made him feel good, but Gray must have been tied up with something else that was big or on some trip, so David didn’t push any harder to reach him. He got the same message the next day as well, again unable to connect with Gray. And Gray did not call him, which was very odd. It was very frustrating. Just when Gray had broken down some of David’s anger, he basically disappeared.
When they completed their twenty-first full day in captivity, David was up early. When he saw the first bubble figure of the day, he instantly demanded of them, “What time is our helicopter departing to fly us back to DC this morning?”
“I don’t have that information, sir.”
“Well, find out,” he snapped. When the bubble figure didn’t move, he added loudly, “Now!” That person exited quickly and returned a few minutes later accompanied by another bubble figure. David had not sat down but instead had stood by the door into his room.
“Dr. Hammond,” that figure said.
“What time is the helicopter departing this morning? I’m ready to go home. What time do we take off?”
“Sir, you are not scheduled to leave today.”
“The hell I’m not,” David angrily shot back at the figure, taking a step toward the man. “Twenty-one days was what we were told. Check your calendars. We have completed that. Twenty-one full, wasted days here for no fucking reason. Now tell me what time the helicopter will be ready to take off. We are going home.
“And you know as well as I do that Marburg exhibits more quickly than Ebola. If we had been exposed, we would have had symptoms of the virus within nine days. It has now been twenty-one days. On top of that, you would have found evidence in our blood work. It has been more than twice the amount of time medically necessary. So don’t try to pull any bullshit about needing more than twenty-one days. You’ve overplayed that card already. So, I’ll ask you again, what time are we flying out of here today?”
“You have only been here twenty days, sir.”
“You know full well that we were in another quarantine facility before being transferred here. Being here is nothing magical. Quarantine is quarantine. The key thing is the time since potential exposure and we both know that we are long past that. So I’ll ask you one more time, what time is our helicopter leaving to fly us back to DC? I’m ready to leave now.”
“I’ll have to go ask.”
“Bullshit. You are the person who was brought in to answer the question. You are clearly the decision-maker. You are not going anywhere until you make a decision and answer the goddamned question.”
“I’ll go talk with other members of the medical team.”
“No. What time are we taking off to fly home?”
“Please, I really do need to talk with the other members of the medical team. This was not on the schedule for today, sir.”
“Get them in here, if you want. You’ve got a very limited amount of time. I’ve fulfilled my end of the deal, so you get this over with because I’m leaving here.”
“You are quarantined, sir. If you attempt to leave, there are soldiers here who have orders to shoot to kill.”
David looked at the man and said, “Let them try.”
“Excuse me?”
“Take off your bubble suit and you will hear what I’m saying. I am leaving here this morning, and I don’t give a flying fuck what anybody else has to say about it.”
“Sir, be reasonable.”
“I have been reasonable. I have been more than reasonable. I have fulfilled my end of the requirements. I have been in quarantine for twenty-one days. And I am ready to go home now.”
It ended up taking hours, which came as no surprise to David. It was afternoon when the medical personnel finally finished giving him a thorough physical examination and completed yet another battery of blood work. David had come to dread the daily blood draw the most because of the bruising and the way it hurt each time.
An hour after his physical exams were completed, the lead physician returned, still encapsulated in his biohazard suit, and told him, “I’d prefer you remain in quarantine for another seventy-two hours—”
“Not a snowball’s chance in hell of that happening,” David told him. “It is not medically necessary, just as quarantining us was not medically necessary.”
“Sir, I would really feel better with just seventy-two more hours to monitor you. I have checked with others, and the White House and they concur. We really would like you to remain here for just a bit longer.”
“Not happening,” David said firmly.
“You have shown no signs or symptoms, so if you insist, you are free to leave. I’d prefer you stayed at least another—”
“That is not happening,” David reiterated, walking toward the door through which the bubble figures came each day.
“Fine. The record will note that you are leaving against medical advice—”
“Don’t try that bullshit with me,” David angrily told the man. “I’m a doctor too, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Letting the subject drop, the man he’d been talking with said, “Fine. We’ve called for a helicopter to pick you up. But it’s going to be a little while before it gets here, since we did not anticipate needing it today and it has to be worked into a flight schedule that was set several days ago.”
“That was your mistake,” David shouted angrily at the man in the containment suit. “Twenty-one days. That was the period of quarantine and that’s how long I’ve been in quarantine. Twenty-one days plus the time you’ve wasted today. I’ve been planning on leaving here today and you should have been prepared and had our transportation standing by to fly us out of here. That, sir, was your latest mistake, and it will not be forgotten.
“Now, is there someone to guide me to the landing pad, or should I wander around and find it on my own?”
“I’ll get someone to take you, sir, but it will be several hours before your transport is available.”
“I don’t care. I want to see the sun again and breathe some fresh air.”
When the bubble-suited figure had told him that it could take a while for the helicopter to arrive, he had not been joking. David was forced to wait close to two hours for the helicopter to get there. While he waited, there was no place to sit, but David didn’t complain since he wanted to just walk around a little, loosen up his unused muscles a bit. He didn’t even want to think about how much work it was going to be to get back into shape after three weeks of senseless confinement. He couldn’t imagine how much muscle and physical stamina he had lost with three weeks of enforced inactivity.
In the second hour of waiting for their ride out of the place, David was moving into thinking of the poor planning as the ultimate insult. The personnel in charge had known how the day was going to end and still they hadn’t made any arrangements until the very last minute. The three newly released men were forced to twiddle their thumbs with nothing to do.
He tried to contact Gray numerous times to let him know that he was on his way home and would be there within a few hours, but he kept getting the same frustrating message that the other party was out of range and to try his call again late
r. After three weeks of only contacting him via videoconferencing, that was the default method he had, especially since his cell phone had been confiscated upon arrival and he’d later learned had been destroyed to eradicate any virus particles that might have hitched a ride. It didn’t matter that David knew there were none. He made a mental note to himself to have someone buy him a replacement phone ASAP.
When their chopper arrived, he boarded immediately and was flown directly to the White House. David left the chopper without a glance at the pilot or a word of farewell.
David headed immediately to the residence. He wanted nothing more than a long, hot shower, some real food, maybe a glass or ten of wine, and if he hadn’t been so pissed at Gray, a couple of hours of hard, hot sex.
He had expected to find Gray waiting on the lawn as he landed, as Gray had said he would be. But the lawn was empty when he disembarked. When David didn’t see Gray there he expected to find him at the door waiting, since Gray had spoken of holding the door open for him and greeting him with a hug, but he wasn’t there, either.
David was surprised and disappointed that he still had room to feel more anger toward the man. As angry as he had been with Gray over the last three weeks, he still desperately wanted to see him and give him a hug, just to feel Gray’s warm body in his arms again. But Gray was nowhere to be seen. In fact, David didn’t see anyone. The building seemed remarkably quiet―unusually quiet. He encountered no staff anywhere, which almost never happened. It always seemed like there were people around in the building.
David headed directly upstairs to the residence, where he took a long, hot shower, relishing the feel of the shower. While naked in the bathroom, David got his first look at the horrible black and blue marks on the insides of both arms from the repeated daily needle sticks. Working inside a hazmat suit was not easy and it made simple things like drawing blood just that much harder, so he didn’t blame the people in their quarantine facility, but that didn’t change the fact that it looked absolutely horrible and hurt. He quickly decided to get his camera and take a series of photos of his arms for his own personal record.
Dressed in sweats and a T-shirt, David went off to find the agent who was always stationed down the hall from the residence. But the agent was not there. That simple fact made the hairs on the back of David’s neck stand on end, every muscle in his body tensing. There was always an agent on duty on that level. They never varied protocol. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. With hypercaution, David slowly walked down the stairs and finally found an agent patrolling the floor below.
“Excuse me, but why is there no agent upstairs tonight?”
“We only have an agent there when the residence is scheduled to be occupied.”
Strange. “When will the President be finished for the day? He’d told me he would meet my helicopter when I got back, but he must have been tied up with something. Do you know how much longer he’ll be in the Oval Office?”
The agent gave him a slightly confused look and reported, “Sir, the President is not here. He’s in Brussels.”
Surely he hadn’t heard the man correctly. “Excuse me? Did you say… Brussels?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Brussels. As in Brussels, Belgium?” David asked, louder and more angry than he had intended. “Why? Since when? There was no mention of this just a couple of days ago! He was planning to meet me when I got back here!” David knew he was shouting at the agent. He paused, took a deep breath, and continued, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. But I’m very confused. This doesn’t make any sense at all. The last time I spoke with him, he was talking about being here to welcome me home. And now you’re telling me he’s not only not here but he’s on an international trip that was not even scheduled just four days ago? Is that right? Is that what you are saying?”
“The President is in Brussels, Belgium.” Back to a basic recitation of facts.
“When did this get added to his schedule? It certainly wasn’t on the last one I saw, and I get a new one every morning.”
“He left three days ago, sir. I believe it was a last-minute addition to his schedule.”
“An overseas trip is a major undertaking, not to mention a major security challenge. I can’t imagine that something like that could be thrown together in an hour. But you’re telling me that, with next to no notice, everything was magically arranged and off he went to Brussels?”
“I don’t have any details, sir.”
“On whose orders was this trip added?”
“I do not know, sir.”
David’s main suspect was the President’s chief of staff. He really didn’t trust or like Ford, and it appeared the feeling was mutual. David didn’t know if the man was homophobic or old-fashioned or what, but from the start he had been hostile to David.
David wouldn’t have been surprised to hear that the chief of staff had engineered a last-minute trip for the President, most likely to keep him away from the President beyond the twenty-one-day quarantine. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more likely his first thought seemed to him to be the likely explanation. So David’s fantasies about having hot, torrid sex with his husband―or even getting a simple hug from Gray―had to remain just that: fantasies.
“Get the lead agent on site upstairs to see me right now, please. I need to speak with him immediately,” David said as he turned to head back up the stairs to the residence level.
A moment later when the lead agent came bounding up the stairs, he saw that it was someone he did not know. He had been hoping that it would be a familiar face.
“Good evening, sir. What can I do for you?”
“I just got back, as you know. And someone told me a moment ago that my husband is in Brussels. I was rather surprised by that fact, since he had told me he would be here to greet me when I got back. Also, this trip is not listed on any of the schedules I’ve received for him. When was this trip added to his schedule, and why was I not informed? I receive updates to his schedule every day. But I didn’t know anything about this one. Nothing. You guys don’t just throw together a major international trip on the spur of the moment. Even a trip out for dinner a couple of blocks away takes major preparation. So explain this to me, please.”
“Sir, welcome home. The trip was indeed a last-minute addition to the President’s schedule.”
“On whose orders?” David demanded politely.
“The orders came from his chief of staff’s office.”
“As I suspected. Can I assume the President will be back tonight?”
“No, sir. They are still in Brussels. Their return is open-ended.”
“Open-ended? What does that mean?” David asked, getting his anger back under some sort of control.
“It means that we don’t have a specific day for his return to the United States. The decision of when he returns will be made on site, in Brussels, when they have finished their business there. As it was explained to me, they could finish today, it could be tomorrow, or it could still be a number of days. Given the time difference between here and Brussels, it is clearly not going to be today. I unfortunately cannot give you a specific answer to that question.”
“I see,” David said. “Thank you for coming up and telling me.”
He was angry. Why hadn’t Gray told him he was leaving to go overseas? Gray always shared his travel plans with David. Something of that magnitude didn’t just happen on the spur of the moment. David could not believe that not one word of this trip had ever been mentioned. Nothing. It was beyond strange. And even worse was the possibility that Gray had deliberately lied to David by telling him he’d be here when David got back.
With his anger at max, David picked up the telephone.
“Connect me with the President, please,” he said.
“I’m sorry, sir, but the President is not in the building at this time.”
“I’m aware of that. If he was here I would simply turn to him and speak with him. But he’s not, which i
s why I’m calling you. Now, I’ll say again, connect me with the President, please.”
“I’ll need to contact his detail, sir. This could take some time.”
“You do whatever you need to do. I need to speak with him. It’s important. I’ll be waiting for your call back,” David said before he hung up.
He was hungry, so David walked down to the kitchen in the basement and decided it was high time to have the dinner he hadn’t been able to have on his actual birthday.
“You don’t by any chance have any Pacific lobster tails in stock, do you? I’m talking about those succulent Pacific lobsters, the ones that were served at my birthday party, the party I could not attend.”
“I’ll check, sir, but I don’t believe we have any of those on hand.” The person on duty was back in under a minute. “No, sir, we don’t have any in stock. We had a large number, but they were all used for a dinner about a week ago. I can have some here by tomorrow morning, if you’d like me to order them. How many will be dining?”
“No, hold off on that,” David told them.
He and the chef went back and forth for maybe five minutes, talking about options for him for that night. He wanted something over the top fucking phenomenal to finally celebrate his birthday, but he was quickly coming to realize that he hadn’t given them any forewarning, which wasn’t fair. “Tell you what,” David said, “call out for pizza delivery—pepperoni and pineapple. I’ll do something special another night.”
He retreated to the residence and decided that since he was in his own living room, if he wanted to sit naked to watch TV, that was exactly what he was going to do. So he did. When the butler announced his pizza had arrived, David moved to the table and scarfed down several slices, only then realizing that he was so hungry because he hadn’t had anything for lunch that day.
About an hour after he had called the operator to try to reach his husband, he had a call back informing him that the President was already asleep and could not be disturbed. David was disappointed but not terribly surprised.
He wasn’t able to find anything of interest on television, and he’d read for nearly three weeks straight, so he wanted something different. He finally gave up, retreated to his private bedroom on the third floor, put a porn video on the television, jerked off, and fell asleep, not satisfied by any part of his evening other than being out of prison.
Dreamspinner Press Year Nine Greatest Hits Page 112