A Glimpse Of Decay (Book 1): Red Storm)

by Santiago, A. J.

  Chapter 6

  Day 12

  San Antonio, Texas

  Trent Walls hurriedly forked his scrambled eggs. Without bothering to taste his food, he gulped it down as he reviewed a spending report that he was going to present to his area director in a few hours. As a district manager for one of the nation’s largest home improvement stores, Trent was constantly under pressure from the higher-ups to keep expenditures down, even if that meant cutting back on employee salaries and benefits.

  With an economic recession looming on the horizon, and as people were cutting back on their spending, Trent was expected to keep the company losses at a minimum—and that was no easy task. As he tried to keep his mind focused on the upcoming presentation, he found himself wondering how much longer he would have a job if things really got bad.

  After finishing his breakfast, he placed his plate and fork in the kitchen sink, tucked his laptop into its leather case and made his way from the kitchen into his modestly decorated living room. His suit jacket was draped over the arm of a couch and he grabbed it, quickly throwing it on. Walking to the foot of the stairs, he called up to his wife.

  “Babe, remember, I won’t be able to pick up Diego today. Please make sure you’re not late in getting him.”

  “Don’t worry hun, I’ll make sure I’m there on time,” she said. “Just be careful on your way to work.”

  Trent reached into his pant pocket, making sure that he had his car keys. As he turned towards the door, he heard his wife’s footsteps at the top of the stairs. He turned to look up at her and he smiled. He took a moment to take her vision in as she stood there beaming at him, wearing nothing but her bra and panties.

  He marveled at his wife. She was thirty-three years old, and although she complained about new wrinkles on her face and bags under her eyes, he still thought that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was fit and lean, careful with what she ate and still working out on a regular basis. To look at her, one would have never known that she had birthed a child. No stretch marks and a firm tummy. At 5’9”, she was just an inch shorter than him, and in her heels, she usually towered over him.

  “God, what did I do to end up with such a beautiful woman?”

  “Stop being silly.”

  “I’m not being silly, I’m being honest. You’re beautiful to me…from your red hair to your sexy toes.”

  “Would you say that if I had a hunch on my back, a hairy wart on my nose and no hair on my head?”

  “Uh, well…yes.”

  “You’re so full of crap,” she said, giggling. “See, I got you there.”

  “Well, that’s not you, so I don’t have to worry about that.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Plus, if I did look that way, you wouldn’t have married me. Now hurry or you’ll be late to your meeting.”

  Trent looked down at his watch. “Shit! Yeah, I better get out of here. I’ll call you later on.”

  “Okay. By the way, thanks for taking Diego to daycare and letting me sleep a little extra,” she said. “That was sweet of you. I’m going to run over to the grocery store and pick up a few things if you need anything. I think when I pick up Diego this afternoon, I’m going to run him over to the park. He’s been asking me all week long to take him there. I think he got hooked on that place after he went there for Ethan’s birthday party.” She kissed her hand and blew a kiss at him. “Love you.”

  “Kay. Love you too.” He turned and was about to make for the door, but he remembered something and spun back around. “Oh, when you go to the store, can you make sure to get some applesauce? We’re out, and Diego threw a hell of a tantrum when I made his lunch today and he saw that there was no applesauce in his lunch bag. The whole time when I was driving him to daycare, he was telling me he wanted his applesauce.” Glancing down to his watch, he realized that he was running late. “Okay, I gotta run.” He turned and rushed out of the front door, jumping into their BMW sports utility vehicle. As he backed out of the driveway, he tuned his car stereo to the local rock station. He needed a little motivational music to get himself ready for the bullshit he was going to have deal with at the meeting.

  Jennifer went back into her bedroom and turned on their television. She and Trent liked to consider themselves conservatives, so they made sure to program the Fox News Channel into their remote. As she pulled a dress from her closet, she stopped to listen to a breaking news update. As she looked at the TV, the screen view split into two halves—the morning anchor in the studio on the left and a gaunt, pale-looking reporter on the right. With his pasty complexion, caked on hair spray and square glasses, Jennifer thought that the man looked more like one of those romance novel vampires than a reporter. Holding a microphone, he was standing in front of the Kremlin, an obvious expression of unease on his face.

  “Russian officials aren’t commenting on the quarantine, but several independent sources are telling us that there is a concern over the outbreak of what we have been told is a form of super rabies. Also, several Kazakhstan officials, speaking on condition of anonymity, have stated that they are receiving reports of infected patients showing up in emergency rooms along the Russian-Kazakhstan border. As of yet, no determination has been made in regards to the true nature of the illness or its cause. The Defense Department has confirmed that several Russian military units have moved into the area, but as you know Warren, when it comes to Russia, one can never get a straight answer.”

  “Russ, are there any reports on potential causes for this outbreak?” asked the anchor.

  “Unfortunately Warren, everyone is being tight-lipped about any possible source or contagion.” The reporter nodded his head forward to put emphasis on his words as he continued his report. Jennifer giggled because she felt that the reporter was trying to put too much acting into the delivery of the story. “We have heard of some military activity on the part of Kazakhstan, and the Defense Department believes that this is in response to the Russians and their troop movements along the border. Also, keep in mind Warren, there was that incident at a nuclear production plant which the Russian president has been awful evasive on, but without any real information from Moscow, there’s no way to connect the two. Here at The Kremlin the only thing we are getting is the official government release about the outbreak of rabies that has been reported in rural areas near the Kazakhstan border. Unfortunately, that does little to explain the deployment of the Russian military units to that affected region. Reporting from Moscow, I’m Russ Sanders.”

  “Very interesting, Russ,” the anchor said. Looking at the camera, the reporter went on to say, “Be sure to stay tuned to Fox News for updates on this developing story. Elsewhere in the world, gas prices continue to skyrocket as fears of…”

  Jennifer felt a bit unnerved at the report and she quickly changed the channel. She found herself thinking about Diego.

  She finished getting ready and went to the grocery store. She picked up some milk, bread, the applesauce, shampoo and Diego’s favorite cereal. As she shopped, she tried to force herself to stop thinking of the news report she had seen that morning. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but for some reason, the whole thing was making her nervous. As she tied to focus on picking out the things she needed to get, she found herself replaying the words from the vampire-looking reporter, and she grew angry with herself.

  As she stood in the checkout line, she overheard two elderly ladies talking about the situation in Russia. They were in the next checkout line, but they were talking loud enough to where she could hear what they were saying. Apparently she hadn’t been the only one who had seen the report on the TV.

  “I tell you, I think it’s one of those bird viruses they’re always talking about.”

  The other lady—silver-blue hair in a bouffant—flipped through one of the tabloid magazines she had taken from the rack. She pushed her reading glasses back up on the bridge of her nose and said, “Good Lord, why do these people get themselves in these messes? They got all that mone
y in the world, but they can’t seem to get their lives right.” She was reading a story on the sordid love affair of a famous movie star.

  “Gwen, did you hear what I just said?”

  “Of course I did, but I just can’t believe that Johnny Watson is going to leave Jennifer Higgins for that tramp he’s been seen around the town with.”

  “I’m not talking about Johnny Watson, I’m talking about the stuff we saw on the news this morning.”

  “Carmen, you worry too much.” Gwen continued to flip through the magazine.

  “I’m serious, Gwen. Frank still has family back in Germany. That’s not too far from all the stuff going that’s going on over there.”

  “Well, whatever it is, I’m sure they’ll figure out how to take care of it. They always do. They were able to take care of that bird flu that you always liked to talk about. Right? And they’ve pretty much cured AIDS. Right?”

  Jennifer turned to look at the women and she felt compelled to ask them what they had heard about the outbreak. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, but are you talking about that news story on Russia?” Jennifer asked meekly. She didn’t want to give off the impression that she had been eavesdropping.

  Carmen looked at the red-headed woman with surprise. “Oh, I’m sorry hun. I hope we weren’t talking too loud.”

  “Oh no, not at all,” Jennifer said. “I couldn’t help but to overhear what the two of you were talking about. I saw something on the news this morning, something about an outbreak in Russia. Some disease or something like that.”

  “Yes dear,” Gwen said, “my friend here is all worried about it. She’s making it out to be more than it is.”

  Carmen looked over at Gwen and grunted. “Well, if my friend would get her head out of the gossip magazines, she would know what I am talking about. Apparently she isn’t as concerned as I am.”

  “Stop being an alarmist, Carmen. You’re going to frighten this young lady.”

  “No, that’s okay,” Jennifer said. “I’m sure the news is making it out to be far worse than it really is. We all know how the media likes to run with things like this.” Jennifer began to place her items on the checkout counter. She gave a nervous smile to the two ladies, and as she paid for her stuff, she was surprised at how the prices on some of her items had gone up—almost overnight.

  She asked the cashier about the increase in the prices, but the slouchy teen had no real answer—nor did he seem to be too interested in Jennifer’s question. Trying to shake the anxiety she was feeling, she tried to focus on something else. She thought of Trent and wondered how his presentation had gone. Hopefully he wasn’t having too hard of a time with the big-wigs.

  As Jennifer drove her Camry home, she was tempted to switch the radio over to the AM stations. She knew that all the talk shows were on the AM side, and one of them was bound to be talking about the Russian thing. In the end, she stopped herself from doing so because she knew that she would end up making herself feel more nervous. Luckily for her, she had been scheduled to have a short day at the office today, and that meant that she could pick up Diego earlier than normal from his daycare. Knowing that made her feel a bit relieved, because from out of nowhere, she had a strong desire—almost out of desperation—to have her son with her.

  Working as a paralegal, she was often allowed to make her own schedule unless her attorney had a trial going on. The attorney she worked for was a portly man, a connoisseur of fast cars, fine wines, cigars…and women. Gilbert “Gibbie” Olivarez, attorney at law, had never grown up. Even at fifty-seven, Gibbie often acted as if he was twenty-seven. His law firm had been handed down to him by his father, the famous Miguel Olivarez. Often the defender of the poorer Hispanic citizens of San Antonio, Miguel had developed a reputation for being the champion of the common people. With that reputation, Miguel’s practice took off, and after winning several high-profile criminal cases early in his career, the Olivarez Law Firm became a corner stone in the San Antonio legal scene.

  Ailing health had ultimately forced Miguel to retire, handing the firm over to his son Gibbie. Although the firm had been doing very well under Miguel, Gibbie had always pushed to expand, and before long, he was handling personal injury cases. As his winning percentages went up, the firm increased in size and Gibbie even began to make television commercials to tout his firm.

  Things were good for the firm and the bills were getting paid, but the real money began to roll in when Gibbie decided to represent the higher-end criminals—namely the city’s top level drug dealers. Almost overnight, the firm had all but abandoned its blue-collar clients and focused itself on defending the headline-grabbing filth that garnered media hype and astronomical fees. With the new prosperity came growth, and within a short period of time, the firm had several branch offices throughout the city.

  Jennifer didn’t care much for Gibbie’s clients, but he paid her well. She knew that Gibbie was addicted to the glitz and glamour of being a high profile attorney, and he would often actually hang out with some of the city’s most notorious citizens. One time, she had even seen him snorting a line of cocaine as he and a client sat and talked in his office.

  Jennifer felt a sense of guilt because she continued to work for Gibbie knowing that he was basically a shady attorney, but she rationalized her guilt away when she thought about how working for Gibbie allowed Trent and her to live a comfortable life. With both of their incomes combined, they were able to live in a high-end neighborhood on the north side of San Antonio, and although she wouldn’t consider themselves rich, she did have to admit to herself that life was good.

  Of course there was no way that she would have ever told Trent what Gibbie was involved in. Trent’s father had been a police officer in California, and when Trent was twelve years old, his father had been gunned down in the line of duty. Naturally, Trent was a law-abiding citizen and he was very anti-drug. If he had known that Gibbie was as dirty as he was, he would have forced Jennifer to quit the firm immediately. Actually, Jennifer wouldn’t have minded having some other type of career. She often regretted not taking life too seriously when she was young, but with her natural beauty—along with the encouragement from a couple of local modeling agencies—she had chosen to get involved with the modeling industry right out of high school.

  Looking back now, she realized that making that choice had limited her future options for a career. Quickly, Jennifer had become caught up in all of the wonder of the local fashion world, and because she was doing so financially well at that time, she never furthered her education nor gave much thought to her future.

  Eventually, with her reluctance to get too involved into the drug scene, along with her inability to break into the national and international scene, she decided to leave the modeling world behind. She was left feeling bitter and unfulfilled, and she was definitely burnt out. She found herself lamenting some of the decisions she had made in her younger life, and so she set out to make something of herself.

  She felt that she was already too old to invest four years at a university, so she had decided to go to a career school instead. After getting her paralegal license, she went to apply at the Olivarez Law Firm. She had seen numerous commercials for the firm and she figured that it would be a worthwhile shot to put in an application with them. While being interviewed by one of the office managers, Gibbie himself had barged into the room and asked her if she had ever been a model. Jennifer blushed as she was embarrassed. Gibbie relayed to her that he had attended a fashion show several years back and that he thought that he had remembered her from the show. When Jennifer told him that it was indeed her that had been in the show, Gibbie turned to his office manager and simply said, “She’s hired.”

  Although Gibbie really wasn’t that demanding as a boss, he did make it known that he wanted Jennifer to portray a certain “image” for the firm. Gibbie was very visual, and without being too obvious about it, he suggested to Jennifer what attire she needed to wear for work. Her heels were never to be low
er than four inches, and the skirts to her business suits were always to be short, yet classy. Although she felt a little uncomfortable in some of the revealing outfits she wore, it was nice to be making enough money to buy those expensive clothes.

  As Jennifer walked into the downtown office, she was greeted by the receptionist. A young law intern at St. Mary’s, the studious young woman always had a bright smile on her face when she wasn’t nose down into her text books. Although she was friendly enough to Jennifer, she always came away with a feeling that the intern looked down on her somehow.

  After a cordial greeting between Jennifer and the intern, Jennifer walked into her office and sat down behind her computer. A yellow sticky note was attached to her monitor. It read: “Make sure you get the Hackamore file ready for today”.

  Larry Hackamore. What a scum bag. The guy made a living brokering drug shipments between the Mexican drug lords in Nuevo Laredo and the black street gangs on the east side of San Antonio. Six months ago he had been arrested by some hot shot police gang unit and he was now facing a hefty prison sentence in the federal system.

  Gibbie knew right away that Larry was as good as done, but he made his easy money on guys like Larry. With Gibbie’s initial retainer starting at thirty grand upfront, he was able to cash in on guys who were trying to get their incarceration reduced to a more palatable sentence. Gibbie knew the federal system well enough to know that when the feds usually brought a case against you, the only thing left to do was to plead out for a shorter sentence. With the money in hand, the only thing Gibbie really had to do was negotiate with the federal attorney for a favorable plea. It was easy money made on hard-luck guys.