“Oh, gross…what is this?” said the defendant. He shifted his weight on the seat to the sound of crinkling fast-food wrappers. “What—do you live in this thing?”
“Hey, I’m a reporter—sometimes I have late hours…now shut up and get down—I’ve got to think.”
“About what?” asked the defendant. He burrowed down in fast food wrappers and empty coffee cups and was nearly concealed by debris trapped between the seat and the dash. “Ugh, something down here stinks…”
“You got a name?” asked Danny as he drove. There were only a few people on the streets and they all wore flu masks. They watched his car suspiciously. He resisted the urge to floor it and get out of town. Remember, word spreads fast in a small town.
“Thomas. Thomas Sang.”
“Nice to meet you, Tommy. I’m Danny Roberts, ace reporter,” he added ironically. “You got a place to stay?”
“I was at the Holiday Inn out by the interstate…but I doubt they’ll let me back in now. Everyone in this town is out for my blood!”
“All right, take it easy. First things first, we gotta find a place to hole up. You need to rest and I need a drink. You drink, Tommy?”
“Yes, and it’s Thomas.”
“Sure, Tommy. Now where the hell are we going to take you?”
Danny took the next turn to the right, heading back toward the interstate when he saw it through a copse of trees on the side of the road. The welcome sign was hanging by one chain, dangerously lopsided over a very nicely un-cut patch of neglected landscaping. There was a tree branch in the driveway and an oak tree that looked about to follow the branch leaned precariously over the lobby. The Motor-On Inn.
“Perfect,” said Danny.
Sang stretched his neck up and peered over the greasy hamburger wrappers that littered the car’s dash. “Oh, my God.”
CHAPTER 5
Danny paused before opening the motel room door. He looked left and right, then checked the parking lot again. Not a soul in sight. The lot held two cars, his old brown Toyota Camry and the motel owner’s equally-old Subaru Outback. There were no cars on the access road and only the occasional car speeding along I-75. It was a gloomy, gray, autumn morning in Kentucky. The air was heavy—there were sure to be storms later in the day.
Satisfied there was no one else around, he put the key in the lock and stepped through the door carrying his plastic bags of food and medical supplies. He juggled the two hot coffees in his left hand and dropped the keys on the chipped table just inside the door.
The motel room was definitely nothing fancy and in Danny’s mind was only one step up from sleeping in his car…but it kept Thomas Sang out of sight of the angry townspeople. After all, he had been exonerated by Judge Klein. Surely, Danny had figured, Thomas could get out of Brikston in a few days—just as soon as Moore fixed his car. With any luck, all this nonsense would blow over by then.
He saw Sang sitting on the edge of the far bed—poor bastard looked nearly as bad as he did yesterday. “You get a chance to take a shower, Tommy? Clean yourself up a bit?” asked Danny.
“Yes. And it’s Thomas, for the twentieth time.”
“Okay, well, here,” said Danny, tossing him one of the plastic drugstore bags. Sang caught it awkwardly.
“What’s this?”
Danny looked at the ceiling. “Let’s see…I don’t know, I grabbed a whole bunch of stuff off the shelves. They were ready to close up shop and go home—”
“But it’s only 9am!” blurted Sang in disbelief. He started pulling boxes and containers out of the bulging bag.
“The flu has everyone scared,” said Danny. He sighed. “They didn’t even want to let me in until I told them I was a reporter and needed some supplies to finish the story I was following.” Danny grinned. “Between you and me, I’m thinking I interrupted a management-approved looting.”
“I hadn’t thought it would get so bad so fast…” Sang mumbled.
“No one did. The guy that runs that drugstore is pretty smart, though. He looked like he was loading up whatever is going to be really valuable—the pharmacy, over the counter meds, food, that kind of thing. Those employees will be sittin’ pretty when things get worse.” Danny pointed at the second bag, “Oh, there’s fresh gauze, bandages, antibiotic ointment, and some Advil in that one…”
Thomas stared at the contents of the bags for a moment. “You really think it’s going to get…like before?”
Danny grunted. “Maybe. Maybe it’ll be worse. This bug seems to move faster—at least from what I’ve been hearing.” He shrugged. “Either way, what happened ten years ago is a big part of the reason why the town hates you right now,” said Danny. He held up a hand to forestall the argument when Sang opened his mouth. “I’m an outsider, just like you. They don’t know me here either and they certainly don’t trust me—they only talk to me when I explain I’m with the press. Most people can’t resist their 15 seconds of fame.”
“So why are you here?” asked Sang. He tore open a box of gauze strips with his teeth and spit the lid out. “Why don’t you leave and get out of this crazy town? These people are nuts…”
Danny sat down heavily on one of the two ratty-looking chairs in the room. It protested a bit under his bulk but seemed to hold. He sighed—the universe was giving him yet another sign that he needed to lose weight. He reached for his cigarettes out of spite.
“So I got a story I’m covering—the effects of the flu and the fear it’s spreading in small-town USA.” He shrugged. “And I guess in small-town USA…everyone knows everyone’s business. They’re very…” he searched for the right word. “Protective, I guess you can say, of their way of life.”
“That explains the roadblocks that they set up as I was trying to get through town.” Sang winced as he unwrapped the bandage over his injured arm. “God this hurts, but it needs to be changed.” He popped open the Advil and dry-swallowed three of the little latte-colored pills.
Danny nodded. “Yup. The local good-ol’-boy network decided to shut down the town to outsiders. We’re kind of trapped here. Good for me—I need the story—bad for you, though.”
“As soon as I can get my car back, I’m outta here,” mumbled Sang. He applied some ointment to the cuts on his arm and hands, where he had been dragged through the street.
“I went ‘round to Moore’s shop and asked about your car. I think he was a little suspicious why I was asking, but I told him that I was just following up for my story and hadn’t seen you since you ran from the courthouse. I had to really act surprised when he told me the police had seized your car as evidence—you know, since they thought you were a spy and all.”
“Ridiculous! Crazy sons of bitches…”
“I know—but he thought I was serious. He gave me all the gory details about the day you arrived and how no one in town had been sick until you showed up. Same thing he told me when I saw those cops drag you out of that church.”
“How the hell could I infect anyone—I’m not even sick!”
Danny took out his notebook and his voice recorder. He put the recorder on the table and clicked it on. “Speaking of that, how’s about I get an exclusive interview, you know, since I saved you and all?”
“Sure, sure,” agreed Sang. “I’ll be glad to tell you everything. I want the truth to get out so these ignorant hillbillies get punished for what they did to me. I hope the FBI or someone comes down on them like a ton of bricks.”
“Bricks for Brikston,” said Danny with a chuckle, “I like it. Now—let’s start at the beginning. What’s your full name?”
“Thomas Edward Sang.”
“Okay, gimme some background info on yourself, Tommy. I probably won’t put most of this in the article, but I may be able to tweak the sympathy hook if you’ve got a sick grandma or something.”
Sang shook his head. “Not that I know of—I mean, Lola could be dead by now, for all I know.”
“Lola? Is that your grandmother’s name?” asked Danny.
Danny watched and waited as Sang’s face went through a range of emotions, starting with anger then shifting to worry, and finally settled on grief. Like any good reporter, Danny knew sometimes it was best just to listen—he’d gotten his Pulitzer-winning story on the education system in Kentucky by refusing to speak just to fill the silence. Silence usually encouraged the other person to reveal more than they would have otherwise. So, he put out his cigarette and waited.
Sang got a hold of his emotions and looked up. “I have a wife and two kids back in Cincinnati.” He rustled through the manila envelope from the police station that contained his wallet, rental car key, cell phone, and the loose change in his pockets when he had been arrested. “Here,” he said, turning on the phone—the screen was cracked, but the image was of a lovely family, all smiling, adoring faces looking at the camera.
“Your wife is very pretty,” said Danny with a sympathetic smile.
“Thank you,” replied Sang with a bob of his head. “Emalee…she’s…she’s mazing. My kids…” his voice faltered again. “Little Alex turns two next week…I thought I’d be home by now.” He slowly lifted his legs onto the bed and put his head down on the pillow, lying on his back. Staring at the ceiling he continued, “Janelle will be four next summer…”
Danny scribbled down the names, then waited. When Sang didn’t look like he was going to talk again, Danny had to prod him along. “So, where do you work?”
“I work for Syntronic.”
“Is that some sort of computer company? How do you spell that?” asked Danny, scratching at his notebook.
“S-y-n-t-r-o-n-i-c. We’re based out of Cincy. I work at our global headquarters.”
“What do you do there?” asked Danny. He took a sip of coffee and winced. It was horrible, but he hadn’t really expected fresh stuff from a gas station that was barely open. “Oh, hey—you want your coffee?”
Sang waved him off. “Coffee’s nasty.”
“Probably a good choice. Tastes like it was strained through dirt. Anyway, what do you do for Syntronic?”
“I’m in IT—product development, you know? There was a company conference down in Lexington last week. We were going to be taking over the university’s IT mainframe and running it for them. Upgrading their library, digitizing every book in their collections…it’s going to be state-of-the-art, probably the best in the nation when…” His voice trailed off and Sang sighed after a moment. “Well, I guess it was going to be the best…who knows now. Might never get done.”
“So…” said Danny, scribbling in his notebook. “Why was the university trying to outsource that job?”
Sang frowned. “Do I look like an upper-level manager? I work in IT, man. My boss told me someone needed to be at that conference and I volunteered. I always do extra stuff, you know? Looks good on the resume.” He sighed. “That was the worst decision of my life.”
“Okay, so you were at this conference…” prompted Danny.
“Yeah, so they wrapped it up early after the power started going out and President Denton’s speech—you know, the one where he told us to rise up against President Barron? Everything happened so fast after that. One day, we were all sitting there taking notes, talking about where we’d meet for dinner after the meetings, then—wham—suddenly the Blue Flu might be back, there’s a war going on in California, and President Denton’s sick. And then he’s telling the whole country to start a civil war. It was all too much to take in, you know? They ended up canceling the rest of the conference, and I can’t blame them—the students on campus were getting pretty worked up…”
“What do you mean, ‘wound up’?”
“Oh,” said Sang, casually flipping a hand in the air. “They were demonstrating, lobbying the administration for more information—just before I left, I heard that one of the dorms was set on fire and people had broken into the school store. It was like they were all penned up on campus and no one really had a way to get home and they just went…crazy.” He shook his head. “I was just happy I was able to get the hell out of there—a lot of my colleagues had flown in from other parts of the country. They were stuck there after the airlines started shutting down.”
“Yeah, it was a shock to everyone, I think.” Danny’s fingers were absently tapping on the table while he thought. “Hey, you mind if I smoke?” he asked. “I can open the window here…”
“Knock yourself out.” Sang turned back to the ceiling and propped his good arm under his head. “Anyway,” he said, still looking up, “I got in my rental and started north. It was only a couple hours’ drive but the company insisted I get a rental. They didn’t want any wear and tear on my personal vehicle. They’re good about stuff like that, you know? Company paid for a nice car, all the gas, eats, the works. I love working at Syntronic.” He sighed again. “So there I was, about halfway back, listening to all the doom and gloom of those emergency news broadcasts—”
“I hate the sound of those warnings now,” said Danny.
“Yeah…every time I hear one I get all antsy. Like, what city has it now? What horrible thing just happened?” He chuckled ruefully. “Anyway, the last one I heard was warning people about North Korean sympathizers and how they were spreading the flu across rural America…I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.” Sang grew quiet. After a moment, he turned his head and looked at Danny. “Hey man, you lose anyone in the Blue Flu?”
Danny looked down at the lit cigarette in his fingers and sighed. He took a long drag and blew the smoke out of the side of his mouth toward the now-open window. The outside air tickled his skin as he started to speak. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I lost my daughter.” He leaned back in his chair and ignored the creaking protest of the ancient furniture. He brought the cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply again, savoring the almost burning sensation in his chest. He exhaled and immediately felt calmer, despite digging through his long-buried memories of that awful time in his life.
“Keisha. She was sixteen. Just starting life, you know? By now she’d probably be in grad school or married or something…” Danny felt the old familiar ache return to his chest. It happened every time he thought about his daughter.
Sang was silent, but those dark eyes watched Danny. Danny continued. “It was just after they shut down all the schools and had banned public gatherings—they’ll probably do that now, too. Back then, it was too little, too late, I guess. We were all at home, healthy and safe, while the rest of the world went up in flames. We had enough food for a few weeks or so and figured we had it made—all we had to do was stay inside and stay away from people till it burned itself out.”
“What happened?” asked Sang quietly.
“I couldn’t resist it—it was the biggest story in recent memory. Well, I was editor-in-chief at the Tribune. Top of the world. I ran a tight ship. And we were missing out on the biggest story since…maybe since we walked on the Moon.” He shrugged. “I tried to run the paper from home, teleconferencing, phone calls, that sort of thing. Eventually the only way to get the job done was to get to the office. I told myself I’d only need to go to the office just one time. You know—bring in the staff willing to come and get everyone on the same page?” He sighed. “My wife, Nikki, begged me not to go.”
“Did you?”
“Yes,” said Danny. He took another drag and exhaled, hoping the pain would leave his soul like the smoke that drifted out the window. It didn’t work. “One of my people had caught it, but we didn’t know at the time. He gave it to the rest of us. Including me. I gave it to my family. Within a few days, my little girl, Keisha, was dead and my wife and I were about to follow her.”
“What happened?”
Danny flicked the stub of his cig
arette out the window and watched it spin lazily in the air as it tumbled to the ground and went out in the dirt. “We almost died. But Nikki got better. Then I did. She never forgave me for bringing that virus into our house.” He sighed, which brought on a coughing fit.
Sang’s eyes flew open. Danny held up a hand. “Not what you think,” he wheezed. “I’ve got early-onset COPD. Been smoking these cancer-sticks my whole life.” He chuckled, a hollow sound. “I survived the Blue Flu—the docs said that was a miracle in itself—most smokers who caught it simply couldn’t fight it off and died. Nikki left me one month after we buried Keisha. She never talked to me again.” He cleared his throat. “But we’re not here to talk about me. I want to know more about you. Let’s start at the beginning. You had car trouble right? What happened?”
Sang shifted to a new position and sighed. “It’s my own fault I’m here. I was fiddling with the radio in the car, trying to find a station that didn’t have the damn emergency broadcast on—I was desperate to hear something other than how many people were getting sick out west and how fast it was moving across the country.” He tried to shrug. “I hit a piece of junk in the road, metal or something—I don’t know, I never really saw it. Whatever it was, it ripped open my two front tires and almost gave the car a C-section.”
Danny whistled. “The gas tank?” The ache was starting to go away.
“Oh yeah,” said Sang with a shake of his head. “I limped into town on vapors—that was last Wednesday—but my car left an oil slick all the way back to the interstate. First thing Mr. Moore said when I got out was to get away from the car because he thought the damn thing was going to explode. I guess I was lucky it didn’t.”
Danny grunted. “Some luck. The car didn’t explode, but look at you now.”
“And so here I am, stuck here in this little town in the middle of nowhere, only a few hours from home.”
False Prey: A Wildfire Novella (Wildfire Saga) Page 4