Andy kissed Gabriel lightly on the forehead and then whispered in his ear. “Whatever other memories are taken from you, you can never forget that.”
7
Sam knew she was struggling.
Seriously struggling.
That knowledge didn’t help her, though. Neither did the passage of hours following the meeting with her father. So many feelings competed for dominance in her raw psyche that she had been fairly close to catatonic.
Greg, Luke, and Beth each had peppered her with questions about the trip, but Sam found her own words sluggish and imprecise. She’d asked them for a little time and space as she retreated to her office, and they’d begrudgingly complied.
Until now.
“Hey, Dr. Angry, it’s Beth,” Beth called through the door. “I thought maybe if you weren’t getting laid in there we could grab a nonalcoholic beverage and a plate of fries and chat. No pressure… sorry, did I say that ‘getting laid’ thing out loud? I meant to say ‘reading the Bible.’”
Inside her office Sam actually laughed. She took that as a divine sign and opened the door.
“Boundaries aren’t a real big thing for you, are they?” Sam asked.
“Actually,” Beth said, “I find the whole ‘coloring within the lines’ thing a bit confusing.” Sam stepped aside and let Beth enter. “You seem distressed,” Beth said.
“Really? What gave it away?”
“You look like me immediately before or immediately after a binge.”
“Thank you.”
“So what happened?”
“I don’t want to get into it.”
“I completely understand. No problem.” Beth said, but made no attempt to leave the office. “So how’s dear old Dad?”
“Who told you?”
“I don’t kiss and tell. Think of me as sort of a fat Hannibal Lecter. I can extract information in all sorts of subtle ways, Clarice.” Beth dropped into a bad Anthony Hopkins imitation. “Do you still hear the fava beans screaming?” She licked her lips and made a sucking sound.
“I mean it. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Got it. I really came in to talk about myself anyway. Tell me, do you think I should go blond?” Beth asked as she pretended to show off her dark and stringy strands with a model’s pretentiousness. “I think it would brighten my whole face.”
“Not sure you want to put more light on that face.”
“Ouch, but good. That was good. Express your feelings, sister. Let it out.”
“You are so incredibly annoying sometimes.”
“I get worse the better you know me.”
“I’m not looking forward to it. What are you really trying to do here?”
Beth appeared to think about the question for a moment. “I think—and I’m not sure, so don’t hold me to this—that I may be trying to show you that I sort of care. Is that right?”
“Why are you asking me?”
“Because I thought you might be a little more facile in knowing what better people are supposed to do in these kinds of situations. You know, the caring thing.”
That answer took Sam back a step. “So you don’t know either?”
Beth shook her head. “Not a clue. All I know is you start caring about a crippled dog and maybe a troubled kid and the next thing you know, it all goes to hell. Honestly, when I think about it, the caring actually felt pretty good. Not OxyContin good, but…” She shrugged.
Beth seemed to be waiting for Sam to volunteer something, but the truth was that Sam didn’t know how to respond. The space between numbness and panic was narrow and not well trod when it came to her dealings with humans.
“OK,” Beth said into the growing silence. “So I’m gonna leave you alone now, since it’s clear I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Hold up a second. I need to speak to you about business.”
“What? Did I screw something up again?”
“Yes. Apparently your life up until now.”
“Nice.”
Sam opened the middle drawer of her desk and removed something small. She tossed it to Beth, who caught it in one hand.
Beth stared at the key.
“It’s heavier than you think,” Sam said.
“You sure you really want me to have this? All joking aside, it’s not like I’ve done a lot to earn your trust at this point, and you do have quite a few drugs around here.”
“We’ve got to start sometime, right? Everyone who works here gets a key—for emergencies, if you want to check on Hips in the middle of the night, or even just to get out of your own apartment or head. And I really don’t think you’ll screw me.”
“No, I won’t,” Beth said softly, holding the key in her palm.
“Don’t make such a big deal about it. It’s not like we’re engaged or anything. Besides, the narcotics cabinet has a separate lock.”
Greg entered without knocking. “Sorry to interrupt this women’s empowerment minute, but I need you.” Sam knew that tone. Her internal alarm pinged. They followed Greg to reception.
Tom waited for her with a sheaf of papers in his hand and two men in white protective lab coats stenciled with “NYC Department of Health Technician.”
Her internal alarm roared.
“What are you doing here, Walden?” Sam demanded.
“I’m sorry,” Tom said. “It’s official business.” He handed the papers over. “These are notices issued by the city department of health to take blood and saliva samples from every dog in the shelter.”
“What the hell for?” Sam was so angry with herself for even thinking that she might trust him.
“A moment alone in your office?” Tom asked. Sam didn’t move. “Please?” Tom added.
Sam led the way and Tom closed the door. “Your father was correct. The source didn’t stay hidden. We found it.”
“What is it?”
“A dog.”
“More bullshit? There hasn’t been a confirmed case of canine-variant rabies in Manhattan for decades.”
“Well, there’s one now. The dog lived in an apartment next to one of the sick kids. According to the records, the dog had already been vaccinated.”
“Sometimes a vaccine wears off or is defective. The dog must have been scratched or bitten by a primary rabid animal.”
“Sam, listen to me, it was a little terrier owned by a retired teacher. We’re talking about the canine equivalent of a car driven by a little old lady only to church on Sundays. And she made sure that the dog got a rabies vaccine booster every year even though the dog never left the apartment off a leash. There’s no connection that we can find to any rabid animal unless the rabies somehow became aerosolized.”
“My father said that’s not possible.”
“No, actually he said it’s beyond what we have seen. And look around. Your father’s not here.”
“That’s not my fault.”
“I never said it’s your fault. Stop making this all about you. The reality is that we’ve lost control of the situation. We’re assuming the source of the virus in this case is canine and so is the governor.”
“What does that mean?”
“Every dog in the same building is being confiscated and quarantined. They will be monitored and if there is any sign of the virus, they will need to be euthanized to confirm or exclude the existence of rabies. Every dog that was living in the household of one of the sick kids has already been tested and conclusively ruled negative.”
“Hold on. How’d you do that? There’s no conclusive test for a living animal.” Then she realized the real meaning of Tom’s statement. “Shit! You killed them?”
“Those dogs had to be euthanized. There was no choice. We’re talking about the potential for carrier-type aerosolized rabies. We couldn’t take the risk those dogs were shedding virus throughout the city.”
Sam felt like her whole body was vibrating. She paced the small office. “Those poor kids. They’re going to wake up and find out that they were respo
nsible for killing their own dogs.”
“If, Sam. If they wake up.”
“But why test my dogs?”
“Because they’re in the geographic zone.”
“And because you can, right? Because they’re just strays to you and I take your money so I can’t say no. Because you need to announce that you’re doing something even if it’s nothing.” Tom didn’t answer. “And when those preliminary tests come back negative, will you be coming back to take them away and open them up just so you can—what was your phrase? ‘Conclusively rule them negative’? Because you’re scared? Because you can? Because you don’t know what else to do?”
“I don’t have any good answers. I think it’s a continuum based on proximity to the sick kids. The nearer a dog has been to one of those children or to another sick dog, the greater the need to rule out that individual vector with certainty. Right now we’re going to settle for a good exam of your dogs and blood work to look for any sign of systemic infection.”
“I can hear the but at the end of that sentence, Tom.”
“Good. Because there are a lot of contingencies. I’m trying to be honest with you. I can’t make long-term promises. And the news doesn’t get better. The governor will be imposing a fourteen-day canine quarantine under his state health emergency authority. No dogs will be allowed out of the Riverside area radius. If a dog has been infected with rabies, it should show within the quarantine period.”
“But that means my dogs won’t have access to Central Park.”
“You and everyone else. I’m sorry.”
“What about Riverside Park?”
Tom shook his head.
“And it’s just a coincidence that the convention and the Central Park event will be over by the time the quarantine ends?”
“Of course it’s not a coincidence. You can’t have rabid dogs running through the governor’s big party in the park. For him that would be a crisis of biblical proportions.”
“A political crisis, you mean.”
“Any crisis at this point in the election cycle is a political crisis.”
“How can this quarantine possibly be enforced?” Sam asked.
“NYPD cops with guns and National Guard with bigger guns moved over from the WTC site, Penn Station, and Grand Central Terminal. It’s not like you’re stopping people—just the dogs.”
“You say that as if it will be easy. What if someone with their dog challenges the quarantine?”
“No one will. But if they are stupid enough to try, the dog will be restrained—one way or another.”
“So why are you telling me all this?” Sam realized that Tom could have just insisted that she comply with the testing order with no questions answered.
“Actually, I’m not really sure.” Sam saw the confusion in his face and almost believed him.
Almost. “I think people like you always have an angle, Tom,” she said. “Whether you know it or not.”
Tom shrugged. “I guess I’m looking for an ally.”
“You’re talking to the wrong person if you want me to help you destroy these animals. I know these kids are very sick, and maybe there’s a right choice here, but honestly I don’t think you even have any idea what the hell you’re doing. Any of you. You’re just grasping at the next politically expedient thing. This is what panic looks like. First it was pigeons. And if the next thing just happens to be dogs, then look out Rover.”
“What if you could help save the dogs?”
“I don’t do the what-if thing anymore. It hasn’t exactly worked out for me.”
Tom rubbed his neck. Sam got the sense he wanted to kick something across the room. “Was there ever a time when you trusted anyone?”
“Sure,” Sam said. “It was about the same time that someone proved worthy of my trust. I think I was maybe six years old.”
Howls from beyond the door interrupted them. Then a shout: “Don’t touch my dogs!”
Sam ran out of the office toward the familiar voice.
8
Andy had a troubled relationship with help, so he rarely asked for it. He believed that those who claimed they had much to teach often also felt that they had much to prove. That was a particularly bad combination in his history. And many who offered help were simultaneously reaching for something else—pajama bottoms, a wallet, or some type of psychological income drawn from another’s bank account.
Still, there were a few people Andy had learned to trust. Unfortunately Gabriel—the person he now needed to help—had been first among them.
Was it a stroke? Alzheimer’s? A brain tumor? Whatever it was, Andy knew it wasn’t good. But once Gabriel recovered, he had turned away all of Andy’s inquiries with an “I’m fine,” and “Don’t worry about me.” Andy had used those phrases enough in his own life to know they were bullshit. Worse, the priest insisted on being by himself, and then made Andy promise not to tell anyone. He felt awful about breaking that promise, but telling Sam wasn’t really like telling anyone. She was one of the other people on his “can be trusted” shortlist.
When Andy entered Finally Home looking for Sam, he immediately knew something was amiss. He followed the sound of angry voices and barking to the cage room, where he found Greg and Luke in a standoff with two guys in white jackets. Andy didn’t like lab coats, and from the agitated state of the dogs in the cages, they didn’t either. Andy’s presence made the dogs even more excited: he heard Hips and a few of the other dogs whimper. For Andy, that sound—the admission of complete and utter powerlessness—was a forceful trigger of shameful memories devoid of mercy.
“… until Dr. Lewis gives the OK,” Greg was saying, hands on his hips.
“We’re on a clock here, sir. We have orders to start the exams,” one of the lab techs countered. Andy thought the guy looked like a very tall version of the character Beaker from The Muppet Show. Beaker carried an insulated lab cooler. The other tech stood by a large metal suitcase on wheels.
“What the hell is going on?” Andy demanded.
“You really shouldn’t be here, kid,” Beaker answered.
Beaker’s patronizing tone pushed Andy a bit further along his well-worn path to conflict.
Greg must have sensed the energy Andy brought into the room. “We got this, Andy,” he said.
Andy wouldn’t be put off. “Got what?”
“They’re here to take some blood from the dogs,” Luke said. “Everything’s OK. We’re just waiting for Dr. Sam.”
Beaker took a step forward. “We’ll just start some of the paperwork then.”
Andy grabbed Beaker’s arm. “We said wait!”
“No, Andy,” Luke warned.
Beaker spun on Andy. “You are interfering with a city employee in the performance of official duties. If you don’t let go, I will have you charged. That goes for all of you.”
Andy felt himself slipping. He could actually see himself from a few feet away squeezing this asshole’s bicep. This wasn’t piking. Andy knew this sensation, although it had been years since he had experienced an episode. The doctors had called it a dissociative reaction. He heard himself shout, “Don’t touch my dogs!” He felt more than saw Luke trying to remove his hand from Beaker’s arm, but the grip was too strong. Andy couldn’t get his mind to connect with his own hand.
“Let him go, Andy.” Sam’s calm but firm voice brought him back into his body with a nauseating rush of vertigo. He released Beaker and the tech scurried away, rubbing his arm.
“You OK?” another man standing with Sam by the doorway asked Beaker.
The tech nodded slowly. “This jerk assaulted me. They won’t let us near the dogs.”
“You need to let us do this,” the man told Sam. “It gets ugly quick if you don’t.”
“It already has,” Beaker added.
Andy knew he should just keep his mouth closed at this point, but he couldn’t. That whimper echoed in his head. “You can’t let them. They want to—” Andy started. Sam shut him down with a glare.<
br />
“How about a little compromise, Walden?” Sam offered the man. “You let me take the blood and saliva under your supervision, and you forget about my young and overzealous colleague over here.”
Walden looked at Beaker, who shrugged in an “I guess it’s the best we’re going to do” way.
“OK,” Walden said. “But your overzealous colleague needs to make himself scarce.”
Sam signaled Andy to leave the room with a nod of her head. Andy complied, but his clenched fists and low growl on the way out left no doubt that he was extremely unhappy with the order.
9
Kendall kept the phone pressed to his ear, hoping for an answer. It had been a strange and challenging day so far—even by city measures—and he just needed to hear her voice.
“Hello?” Ellen finally answered.
Kendall was so relieved that he couldn’t form a sentence.
“Jim? Is that you?”
“Yeah… sorry, hon. Bad connection. I just wanted to make sure you and Deb got there OK.”
“Actually, we just got in. Traffic out of the city was insane. It seems that a lot of folks had the same idea.” Ellen’s tone was matter-of-fact. Kendall recognized it as the one she often used with her students.
“Is everything OK?”
Silence.
“Is Deb all right?” he pushed.
“What exactly do you want me to say, Jim?”
“The truth.”
“She’s scared.”
“But you’re out of the city now.”
“You’re a cop. You know damn well fear doesn’t work that way. It isn’t tied to a zip code. She knows something bad is going on. School is closed… kids are sick… we’re here in New Jersey and you’re not with us.”
“But—”
“You asked, so I’m telling you how it is. That’s Deb. Should I even bother to tell you how scared I am? Deb was plugged into her iTunes so I had the news on for the drive. You know what I heard?”
Kendall didn’t respond. He already knew the answer.
“I heard what sounded like an awful lot of bullshit. No one has any confidence that they have a handle on this. The CDC is just ducking and weaving. They’re still at the ‘Is it bigger than a breadbox?’ questions. Do they think people won’t notice? Well, I’ve been looking around… people are noticing and they are just as scared as me. This virus is spreading and you’ve decided to stay at ground zero. Now they have set this perimeter without any explanation as to why they think it is a good idea.”
Just Life Page 14