Quarantined

by Joe McKinney

  Two SWAT officers belly crawled out the driver's door and knelt down beside us, the intention to hustle us into the car.

  Chunk said, “Shooter's on the roof, over there,” just as a bullet zinged off the hood of the police car.

  One of the SWAT guys turned to the other one and said, “Light that mother fucker up!”

  He ran in a crouch to the police car and pulled a fully automatic AR-15 from between the front seats. He set up over the trunk of the car, rifle pointed at the roofline. I watched him work his gas mask into position against the stock of the gun, and then he fired a quick burst of seven or eight shots into the shooter's position. I watched the roofline, and saw dust settling onto the sidewalk from the roof. I couldn't see the shooter.

  And then time dilated on me as hands pulled the girl from my arms and lead us to the police car. All of us were huddled inside, the injured woman still groaning, the little girl crying. Chunk had pressed a towel onto the woman's bleeding forehead. He was saying something to me, but I couldn't hear the words.

  Movement—I felt the car racing across the parking lot, back to the command post. I felt everything, saw every detail, but it was like it was happening to somebody else.

  Treanor, that puny brass general, had his hands on his hips, his feet spread in a go-ahead-and-try-to-fuck-with-me stance.

  Somebody opened the door and pulled me out. I heard Treanor say, “Harris, what the fuck is wrong with your head?”

  But he quieted when he saw the little girl and the injured woman.

  “Get them to the infirmary,” he said to somebody behind me. And then to Chunk he said, “Dempsey, you and your partner get back on the line.”

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  * * *

  Chapter 19

  A SWAT officer drove us back to the west entrance where the rest of the skirmish line was waiting. In the short time we were gone, most of the crowd that had so frantically swarmed our position had dispersed. I could see them melting back into the neighborhoods on either side of the store fronts across the street.

  For the next hour or so, only a few stragglers came near our position. None of them looked at us, and they left the area as soon as they could, heads bent, eyes fixed on their shoes.

  Soon, there weren't even any stragglers. An eerie calm settled over the street, and it was like looking at a ghost town. It had become oppressively hot, and clouds of dust drifted sluggishly down the street. Signs dangling over the sidewalk to my left creaked and moaned in the hot breeze. Crumpled sheets of newspaper took the place of tumbleweeds.

  We stood there in the eye of that terrible calm for most of the afternoon. Sometime around dusk, Treanor started touring the various entrances and quietly ordered us to return to our normal assignments.

  “No,” I overheard him say to a nearby sergeant. “We don't know if they're gonna do another drop or not. Nobody's picking up the damn phone.”

  I imagined the same thing I'd just experienced going on at the Springvale Station where Billy went to get our family's food. I hurried back to the command post after we were dismissed and asked Jennifer Langley if there had been a riot there.

  Thankfully, there hadn't.

  Chunk hadn't been so lucky. He lived on the east side of town and the MLK Station where he went to get his rations had apparently been completely overrun.

  “Not enough SWAT to go around is what they told me,” he said. “Looters broke into the Station, took what they could carry, and tried to burn the place down.”

  “Why burn it? I mean, you always see that, don't you? There's a riot, and people start trying to burn the place down.”

  “That's true.”

  “It just seems like such a waste, you know? You'd think the people doing the burning would realize they've got to live there after the riot, so why burn your own neighborhood?”

  “Why break into somebody's house and take a crap on the rug?” he countered. “Why strap a bomb to yourself and blow up a bunch of Israeli teenagers in a disco? Why hijack a plane and fly it into the World Trade Centers? Who knows why people do the stupid shit they do.”

  We drove back to the Scar and parked our fleet car, undamaged this time, and went into our respective locker rooms to change. I was ready before Chunk, and I waited for him at the exit to the parking lot.

  “What's up?” he asked. He didn't say it casually, like a greeting. There was genuine concern in his tone.

  “You see right through me, don't you?”

  “Nah girl. You just wear your troubles where they're easy to see.”

  I nodded.

  “So, what is it?”

  “What we talked about earlier. I don't really know how this is supposed to work. I've never, you know...”

  “Just call a spade a spade, girl. You're having second thoughts about buying off the black market, aren't you?”

  “I made a promise, Chunk. I feel bad about doing that.”

  “Well, first off, you ain't got to whisper about it. Ain't nobody around here gonna hear us. Or care. Ain't like it's illegal or nothing.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Look, here's the deal. The way they got the system set up, you can't win. Look what happened today, if you don't believe it. You play their way, you'll never be able to provide for your family. And I ain't talking about chocolate cake neither. I'm talking about the basics. Springvale ain't been shorted too bad yet, but it'll happen. I promise you that. If you don't start buying off the black market, there may come a day when you can't feed your family.”

  He was right, of course. There wasn't a law against the black market. The Metropolitan Health District had come out and openly condemned the practice, citing unsanitary conditions and the need for fair distribution of resources, but nothing had been formally done to close it down.

  The black market was everywhere anyway, which was probably why nobody bothered to try to shut it down. There was no one location where things were bought and sold, no one person who controlled it. It was like a giant underground river of goods and services that you accessed through friends and family. One person might know where to get gasoline. Another might know a guy whose cousin was married to a woman who could get you booze, or soap, or aspirin, toys for your kid, whatever.

  “So what do I do?”

  “You mean, how do I get the stuff to you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let me take care of it,” he said. “I'll come by your place tomorrow.”

  Connie was in her bed, sleeping soundly. I listened to the slow, gentle sounds of her breathing in the dark and tried to remember what things were like before this damn quarantine.

  I went back to the living room, turned out the lights, poured myself a glass of water from the sink in the kitchen, then headed back to the bedroom, where Billy was waiting, head propped up on a stack of pillows, no shirt, an old pair of boxers, and a goofy, but very cute, smile on his face.

  “I finished the white-breasted nuthatch today,” he said.

  I smiled. “You're a good man, Billy. The best.”

  His smile wavered a little. “That doesn't make you happy?”

  “It does,” I said. “It's just ... today was really hard.”

  I had already told him all about it when I came home, and he had told me how he and Connie had spent the entire day waiting in a line that never seemed to move.

  “You guys were lucky you didn't run into a riot.”

  “Sounds like it.”

  He sat there, smiling at me, and it made me do a double take.

  “What?”

  His smile grew wider.

  “What?” I said. A bit of a chuckle had crept into my voice. I couldn't help it, looking at the goofy grin on his face.

  “Got a couple of surprises for you.”

  “Mmm hmmm,” I said. “What kind of surprise?”

  “Three of them actually.”

  “Three surprises? Wow, I'm a lucky girl.”

  “You are,” he said. “And you don't even kno
w it.”

  He got out of bed and walked past me to the bathroom, pulled the shower curtain back, and waved his hand toward it like a magician revealing a trick.

  All I saw was the empty bathtub.

  “What is it?”

  “This,” he said, and pointed at the tub. “Not only did I save a little extra fuel to run the hot water heater, but Connie and I didn't get a chance to use any water today. So...”

  “You mean?” I looked from the tub to Billy, but didn't dare say the words.

  “That's right,” he said. “There's enough for you to take a long, hot bath.”

  I ran to him and hugged him. He hugged me back, which made me wince and break contact.

  “Ow,” I said. “Ribs.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Oh, Billy. How did I get you? What could I have possibly done to deserve you?”

  “You deserve the moon,” he said, and bent down over me to kiss me once more. “You're a fantastic woman, Lily Harris.”

  I undressed quickly, down to my bra and panties. I grabbed a towel from the closet then made a beeline for the tub, stopping at the entrance to the bathroom to glance at myself in the mirror.

  My whole left flank was discolored from the bruise, but I looked past that. All the yoga I had been doing seemed to be paying off. I'd had a little poochy roll right beneath my belly button ever since Connie was born, and I didn't think it would ever go away, but by God if my belly wasn't finally starting to look flat again. I turned a little to the left, then to the right, and smiled.

  Damn, I haven't had a tummy like this since Billy and I were dating. Nice.

  “Lily.”

  I turned back to the bedroom and saw Billy bringing me my city-issued cell phone.

  “It's some guy named Myers.”

  I frowned at the phone, took it.

  “Hello?”

  “Detective Harris,” said Myers, his icy British reserve stretched thin to cover something that was evidently pretty serious, “I apologize for calling at such a late hour. I didn't realize you were already at home.”

  “It's okay, Doc. Whatcha got?”

  “I've just spent the last few hours going over the mobile laboratory you recovered in the GZ this morning.”

  “Yes? Something wrong?”

  “Yes, Detective, something is most certainly wrong. Several important items are missing.”

  “Missing?” I didn't like his tone, like there was an accusation behind it. “Like what?”

  “The hard drives to all three of the on-board lap top computers are gone. All of Dr. Bradley's research was on those drives, Detective Harris. Without them, we have no way of knowing the results of her research.”

  Billy was watching me. He gave me a ‘what's wrong’ look and I nodded back at him. “I see,” I said. “Did you call the SAPD Evidence Unit? Maybe they confiscated the drives for further testing.”

  “They did not. I was told by a rather curt sergeant that the vehicle was returned to us in exactly the same condition as it was when it was delivered to them yesterday morning.”

  Billy put his hand out and I took it. He folded his massive palm over the back of my hand and I closed my eyes, letting his warmth move into me.

  “Okay. Anything else missing?”

  “I should think that was enough, don't you?”

  “Doc, spare me the drama. Was anything else missing, yes or no?”

  “Only the traps. But I've already made you aware of that.”

  “Okay,” I said. “When I get back to the office I'll start looking into that first thing.”

  “Detective, I don't have to remind you that this is very serious. The fate of a great many people might rely upon the information contained in those drives.”

  “I know what's at stake, doc.”

  “Very well, then. I'll ring off.”

  “Okay, Dr. Myers. Goodbye.”

  I hung up the phone and handed it back to Billy.

  “Problems?” he asked.

  “That,” I said, sighing heavily, “is one strange little man.”

  “He sounded British.”

  “He is. He's one of the WHO doctors over at the Arsenal Morgue.”

  “Ah,” he said, then, “Oh, I almost forgot. Your other two presents.”

  He handed me a small, badly rumpled brown paper bag, which I took with a what-have-you-done-now smile.

  “Go on,” he said. “Open it.”

  I did, and squealed. I couldn't stop it from coming out. Inside was a replacement blade for my Venus Divine razor and a small container of sensitive skin shaving cream. Not my brand, but...

  I took it, threw my arms around him, and kissed him as hard as I could.

  “Billy, how?”

  “They had them today. I couldn't believe it either. I figured you were tired of using those cheap plastic ones.”

  The ones that cut my legs to shreds? You bet, you sexy, beautiful man.

  “Thank you, Billy. Thank you.”

  “You earned it, Lily. Go have a good bath.”

  “Okay,” I said, bouncing and turning on my toes for the bathtub. He gave me a playful pat on the butt and I gave him an impish flick of my eyebrows.

  Then I turned the water to as hot as it could get, turned on the 10,000 Maniacs CD that I had played down to the nub my junior year in college, and let Natalie Merchant's voice, the sound of the gurgling water, and the steam filling the air clear my head.

  When the tub was full, I slipped out of my bra and panties and inched into the tub. I got settled, closed my eyes, and let the thoughts and thousand little worries that had crowded my last few days melt away.

  One of my guilty pleasures is a long, hot soak, followed by shaving my legs. Once I had taken in the hot water, let it warm me all the way through to the bone, I loaded in the Venus Divine razor blade that Billy had stood in line all day to get for me, and proceeded to shave my legs till they were smoother than any baby's butt ever was. It was absolutely heavenly.

  Later, I got out of the tub, steam still clinging to my breasts, and wrapped myself in a big blue plushy towel. I walked from the bathroom to the bedroom, where I stood in front of the mirror over our dresser and dried my hair.

  Billy came up behind me and stroked my shoulders lightly with the tips of his fingers.

  “Good bath?”

  “Mmm hmm,” I said, leaning my face toward his hand and caressing his fingers with my cheek. “Very nice.”

  Billy wrapped his arm around me and bent to kiss my shoulder. I almost balked. It was always so nice to feel his hands on my skin—God, the miracle of those hands—and yet I didn't feel like I wanted to be close at that moment. The day had been so hard, and though the bath had cleared a lot of the raw edge off it, my subconscious was still throwing horrific images across my mind.

  I longed for Billy's touch, and yet at the same time I wanted to retreat inward, to pull the covers over my head and let sleep take me.

  Billy's lips grazed my skin, and I started to say no, but couldn't quite bring myself to stop him. I did want him. I wanted him badly.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Mmm hmm.” I took his hand and guided it up the seam of the towel. He opened it slowly, pulling it back from my body with mouth-watering slowness, and then let it fall to the floor.

  I turned, naked in his arms, and let him lead me by the hand to the bed.

  I climbed into bed and reclined across the sheets, watching him as he slid out of his boxers and climbed onto the bed next to me. We kissed, slowly and deeply, his tongue pushing at mine, his hands on my breasts, on my thighs, my hips moving up to meet his fingers.

  My breath quickened with his touch, and my heart thudded against my ribs. I dug my fingers into his shoulders, wanting to pull him close to me, but wanting also to linger there, at the edge, savoring the leap ahead of us.

  He swung his body on top of mine, his hands on the bed on either side of me, the two of us chest to chest.

  I winced, and he saw it.


  “Something wrong?”

  “Ribs,” I said.

  He moved his arms apart, but it still wasn't enough. I like to move with him, and I could still feel the awful pressure against my ribs, cutting off my air.

  I guided him over to his back and climbed on top of him, cowgirl fashion. His chest and shoulders were beautifully powerful, and I put my hands there, stroking my palms against his skin.

  I could feel his breaths coming faster, and when he closed his eyes I knew we were moving together, ready to fall in on one another.

  I moved my hips against his and he groaned.

  “Like that,” he said.

  “Yes,” I answered, the word leaving my lips like steam escaping a valve. “Yes. Like this.”

  Later, as we lay on our backs, Billy running his fingertips lightly over my thighs, he said, “I took Connie down to the creek today.”

  “Oh yeah?” I said.

  He turned on his side and put an arm over my stomach. “Yeah,” he said, “and there's something I want to ask you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. See, we found something down there.”

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  * * *

  Chapter 20

  While Billy worked on his coffins, I sat in a lawn chair nearby, drinking an iced tea and watching Connie play beneath the oaks at the edge of our backyard. Beyond her, our property stretched down to Vespers Creek, which was still running high from the fierce rain storm of two nights ago.

  A blue jay, Connie's favorite, was dive-bombing a squirrel not far from Connie. The bird would swoop down on the squirrel and nip it just above the tail, making it jump and spin in midair in a useless attempt to defend itself. Finally, it was forced to scamper off, leaving the blue jay to whatever it was protecting. A pecan, probably.

  Connie watched the whole show, laughing every time the squirrel jumped, and she turned a few times to make sure I was watching too. I waved to her and smiled.

  Lord, what a kid.

  Billy stopped hammering and checked the fit of the boards, making sure they were flush.

  “You're not having second thoughts, are you?” he asked.