“Can I ask one more favor from you?”
“Name it.”
“Can you tell me if Cameron Richards has been in the hospital in the last week?”
Anderson’s bushy eyebrows twitched but he didn’t press for an explanation. After a quick search, he shook his head. “He hasn’t stepped foot on hospital grounds in four days. Well, that’s to say, his cuff hasn’t,” he reassured.
Penelope found little comfort in the distinction.
The tightness in her chest threatened to reveal itself as she spoke. It took a lot of effort to keep her voice chipper and level, but it didn’t stop her hands from trembling as she made the call. This was her last ditch effort to take control over a crumbling situation.
“NYU medical center, how can I direct your call?” a dull voice asked.
She couldn’t tell if she was speaking to a human or an automated system, so erred on the side of politeness. “Yes, hi, hello. I’m looking for the psychiatric department, specifically…”
The system glommed onto the first recognizable keyword. “Hold for transfer.”
Penelope cursed under her breath as the connection clicked away. Another bored voice answered. “Hello, psych department.”
“Hi, I’m… are you real?” she asked before continuing.
“Yes, I’m real. How can I help you?” the woman asked, sounding even more disinterested.
Penelope doubled-down on the perkiness. “Great! I’m hoping you can help me connect with a colleague of mine, Dr. Lal.”
After a slight pause, the woman replied. “Dr. Lal isn’t in right now.”
“That’s a shame. Could I try back later? I know he’s been doing night shifts recently.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t release that kind of information,” she droned.
Penelope sighed. “I understand. Can I leave my number with you for when he does come in?”
She ended the call feeling utterly defeated. Short of flying out to the East Coast to see him in person, she didn’t know what else to do. There was no one else to call. Cameron hadn’t mentioned anyone other than…
Her cuff vibrated, a call coming in from a number she didn’t recognize.
“Hello?” she answered after a seconds’ hesitation.
“Did you just call NYU?”
Penelope instantly recognized the woman’s voice from a moment before. “Yes, that was me!”
“I’m sorry to call you like this, but…” The woman muffled a cough. When she spoke again, her breath brushed across the receiver. “Do you know Dr. Lal?”
“I’m afraid not personally, but he’s a friend of a close friend.” She waited for the woman to fill in the blank on her own, but apparently she needed prodding. A bad feeling crawled across the base of Penelope’s hairline as she asked, “Why?”
“I probably shouldn’t say but…” The woman’s voice dropped so low Penelope strained to hear her. “He hasn’t been in to work for days now. No one has heard from him. It’s not like him at all, so if your friend knows anything…”
The woman sounded so worried, Penelope didn’t have the heart to tell her Cameron was missing too. “Of course, I’ll have him get in touch.”
“Good.” The way the woman breathed that single word told Penelope all she needed to know. Dr. Lal was more friend than co-worker.
“While I have you, can I ask you something?” Penelope ventured.
“Sure, but I only answer phones.”
“I’m sure you know everything that’s going on in that hospital.”
The woman gave a little self-deprecating laugh and fully warmed to Penelope. “That’s probably true. What do you need to know?”
“Those patients you’ve had coming into the ER, the uh… the catatonic ones,” she said, a slight waver touching her voice. She spoke slowly and deliberately, as if choosing the right words would unlock the correct answer.
“Ah,” the woman breathed. “Botulism.”
“Yes, exactly, the botulism outbreak. Are they still…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence, realizing just how crazy she was actually starting to sound.
“They’re gone.”
Penelope rocked back in her chair letting the bright lights blind her vision. She tried not to ask questions when she wasn’t prepared for the answer. But what answer would she have liked to hear? “I understand. Well, I appreciate you calling me back.”
“If you hear anything…”
“Absolutely.”
Penelope was already calling home as the car pulled out. Joey answered, Anna crying in the background.
“What’s up?” he asked sounding flustered.
She had no control over the panic constricting her voice now. “Hey honey,” she squeaked. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, Anna’s crying because I wouldn’t let her throw food around. What’s going on? What time is…”
“So, I was thinking. We should go to the beach house this weekend,” she said with mock peppiness.
“Okay…”
“Actually, let’s go now.”
“It’s the middle of the week. Pen, what’s going on?”
Penelope angrily wiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks. “I just want to spend some time with my favorite people. Is there anything wrong with that?”
Joey shushed the fussy child. “No, but…”
“Great. Get your bags packed, I should be there in twenty. If you move fast, we can be on the road within the hour.”
Kansas City, MO
June 6th
The warm breeze from the open window cooled the sweat on Randall’s skin. The lengthening evenings meant he and Stack could spend more time recruiting each day. They’d only just run out of fliers when they realized it was nearly time for their second meeting of the week. With Stack at the wheel, Randall took the few minutes to close his eyes and collect his thoughts.
The group was steadily growing but not as fast as he would’ve liked. It was tempting to turn dark, to start spouting the real fire and brimstone testimony that’d get them trembling. But he knew he’d have to hold back on that… at least for now. They were still planting their seeds, casting their nets. It wouldn’t do a bit of good to scare them when the real fear would be coming soon.
“Think we’ll get home before the storm? Dale hates thunder.”
As if answering his question, an emergency alert broke through the radio broadcast. Stack frowned and turned up the volume to hear their county was under a severe thunderstorm warning and a tornado watch. Randall could’ve predicted that without looking outside. He could smell the storm on the air.
“I fucking hate spring,” Stack muttered as he flicked the radio off. “I’m gonna drop you off at the church and swing around to get him, that alright?”
“That’s fine,” Randall replied.
His head rolled to the side as the car turned a corner. His eyes fluttered open and idly watched the neighborhood slip past. Green lawns, spring flowers… but he knew behind those perfectly kept houses lurked a deep fear. There was a low hum building across the country and even if you weren’t paying attention to it, you could feel it. He let his mind roll around with this thought, planning and riffing on relating it to the thunderstorm headed their way.
Stack sped up to miss a red light, hung right, and slowed to a crawl. “Ho-ly shit.”
Randall blinked forward to see cars lining both sides of the residential street with more trying to find a spot. The church lot was filled to the hilt, many cars parking on the grass and in neighboring driveways. People of all colors and ages migrated toward the church. Some were dressed in their Sunday best, others obviously coming straight from work or Little League practice.
“There’s gotta be a hundred people here,” Stack muttered in awe.
“I think the tide just turned.”
“No shit. And I think we just spent our last day roasting in a goddamn parking lot,” he grinned back. He tried to inch his way to the front of the church.
&n
bsp; Randall sat up straight and smoothed the wrinkles from his worn out shirt. “I’ll get out here. Get Dale and come on back here. Something tells me you don’t want to miss tonight.” Even he couldn’t contain his excitement.
“You got it, man,” Stack replied.
Randall stretched his arms over his head after shutting the door. A few familiar faces greeted him with an equal amount of amazement. An electricity was moving through this crowd, he could sense it.
The minister of the church, a Southern man with a ruddy complexion, approached Randall as he walked up the small rise to the door. The way he was wringing his hands telegraphed his unease.
“Evening,” he nodded. “Got quite the crowd tonight.”
“That we do,” Randall replied with genuine surprise.
“Wish I could get half as many on Sundays.” Randall only replied with a thin smile, so the minister continued. “Seein’ as though y’all are here and there’s so many of you, you can use the upstairs space tonight.”
“That’s much appreciated,” said Randall, shaking the man’s hand.
“What is it you said you were? A weight loss group or something?”
“Why don’t you stay and listen? Might be an interesting change of scenery sitting in the back for once.”
The minister gave a thin smile that didn’t touch the corners of his eyes. “That might be nice, thank you.”
It took nearly twenty minutes to get the crowd settled upstairs in the church. The air was thick and heavy despite the fans whirring overhead. The doors had been pinned open but no breeze was moving. Every seat was taken, some choosing to stand in the back and along the sides of the wooden pews.
As Randall looked over them, he couldn’t help but picture a flock of skittish animals, all feeling the incoming storm deep inside their bones. Women fanned themselves, their children fussed, and the men looked uneasy and tense. I guess they’re my flock. The thought brought a genuine smile to his face which he used as he walked to the front.
They began as they did every time, with a moment of prayer and welcome. The familiar faces he’d been seeing over the past weeks were fervent with their greetings. Through all their doubts and wonder, here they stood, vindicated. They’d been the early adopters, the ones who’d noticed the light first. The newcomers wouldn’t suffer the same questions because their neighbor was here, vouching for Randall and his message.
The tide has well and truly turned.
Randall paced as he preached. Maybe the storm was making him restless too, but he was feeling electric. The steady footfall matched his cadence. Without thinking, he mimicked and mimed all those preachers he’d sat listening to. The crowd nodded just as his mother had, eating up line after line like a spoon-fed toddler.
With the rumbling thunder accompanying his sermon, Randall began to wonder to himself. Maybe I actually was chosen. A preternatural darkness descended. Near constant flashes of brilliant lightning illuminated the windows like a sea of photographers taking shots outside.
FILL IN A LITTLE PREACHING HERE
“That’s enough!” a voice shouted from the back of the room. “I won’t have it. I won’t let this go on in a house of God!”
From his vantage at the front, Randall could see the minister gesturing wildly. Those around him either backed away or tried to calm him as he lost his temper. Stack pushed his way through the crowd to reach him as the room filled with mutterings.
“Just a moment,” Randall called out, his hands held up high.
Stack escorted the quieter minister to the front of the church. Tiny flecks of spit flew from his mouth as he did everything he could to remain calm. The man was so worked up he couldn’t finish a sentence.
“If I had any idea this kind of blasphemy was going on… you lied to me… weight loss… this here is an insult to everything I’ve ever…”
Stack squared his shoulders and put himself between the two men like a bouncer trying to break up a fight. “Now look here, I don’t like being called a liar, especially in a church. We’ve been nothing but upfront with you from the start. If you can’t handle the truth of what…”
The minister sputtered. “You… are you trying to say I’m not…”
A few gasped at the blinding white flash of white. A split second later, a crack of thunder tore through the air. It rattled windows and sent the children into hysterics. Heavy rain pounded the roof like a thousand angry men were battering their way in.
It’d given the minister a moment to collect his thoughts. “Finish this. You’re all out of here,” he said between gritted teeth.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” Randall asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
A calm tone in the face of such anger rocked the man to his back leg. “As sure as I’ve ever been about anything.”
Randall didn’t argue. He knew the entire congregation had seen the heated exchange. He nodded to Stack who pulled the minister to the side of the room.
It took a moment to hush the crowd but he still had to project over the storm outside. “I’m afraid our host has had a change of heart about allowing us to meet here.”
The minister stood tall in defiance of their cries. Randall waved for them to calm down.
“We’ll finish for today, however I’m not sure where we will meet next time. I have little money to pay for a space, so by the grace of God, we’ll find a way. Leave your name and information with me or my associate on your way out.”
The confused group obviously didn’t want to leave, wanting to stay dry and be saved. Still holding their attention, Randall took the opportunity to reach out once more to the minister.
“If you could just let the storm pass…”
His face turned purple. The congregation didn’t have to hear the words to get his meaning. “Get the fuck out of my church.”
Randall nodded contritely and called out once more. “Barring an act of God, I guess we’re done for the day.”
Now, even Randall couldn’t have hoped for a better stroke of coincidence. He thought maybe another peel of thunder would tear through the church like a slap from above. But just as the crowd began to rise and reluctantly head out into the storm, the sirens fired up outside.
Most, if not all the people in that room were native Midwesterners. Carrying on through severe storms was a way of life, but even they paused when the tornado sirens started to whir. The easing rain took on an ominous tone. The stillness, the dying wind. The storm wasn’t winding down… it was revving up.
Randall couldn’t believe his luck. “Everyone! Get to the basement!”
In ordered chaos, the crowd surged to two small doors on either side behind them. Tornado sirens in the distance joined the chorus outside. The fear was so thick, Randall could almost taste it in the air. It legitimately felt like the end of the world and it took every ounce of control he had to keep from grinning.
Safety trumps comfort in an emergency. The basement was soon standing-room only with little room between each sweaty body. The temperature of the humid air rapidly rose in the hushed room.
A man from the center of the room called out weather reports from his phone. “They say there’s one coming up the south of Lee’s Summit.”
“I heard there’s one up in Leavenworth,” another person replied.
One of the last from upstairs, Randall stood in the stairwell. His voice echoed and carried. “We’ll sit tight until we get the all clear. You’re all safe here.”
Stack was a few steps below him struggling to hold Dale by his collar. “Just sit. Sit! Damnit dog, I know, but you gotta sit!”
Anxious minutes ticked by. Murmurs, soft cries, and the whimper of Stack’s dog were the only sounds until… a whistling wind picked up outside. Randall peered up the hallway, the light beckoning him. The dark skies had shifted, casting an eerie green hue through the windows. Stack was so caught up in calming his dog, he didn’t notice as Randall slipped away.
Though he’d never heard it before, the sound wa
s unmistakable. The tornado was close.
Vibrations rumbled through the church. On his hands and knees he climbed the stairs as far as he dared. His ears popped. Odd whistles rang out through the church as air was forced through tiny cracks and holes. He wasn’t scared. He didn’t fear death. This was pure awe.
He watched as the heavy wooden front doors wildly swung in the wind before tearing clean off their hinges. Horizontal sheets of wind and rain and debris blew past the open doorway, pounded the sides, threatened the windows. He thought his eyes might be playing tricks, but the walls and roof seemed to bow and shift.
A loud crash outside made some in the group below scream. Randall figured it was the church tower peeling away from the roof and shattering on the ground below. He knew the moment only lasted a few seconds, but those seconds stretched on to eternity. A corner of the roof began to lift and separate from the walls. He pressed himself against the brick foundation, ready to run back down if the whole thing caved in. It lifted two more times before settling back in place.
And just as quickly as it started, the wind and rain died away.
They cautiously inched their way from the safety of the church to inspect the damage outside. It must’ve been a small, tightly packed twister. Aside from debris, downed trees, and a few damaged roofs, the neighborhood was in good condition. Even the cars parked outside all escaped unscathed, all but one.
Randall was busy comforting and commiserating with the upset when Stack tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey man, you’ll never believe it,” he said with a nod to the far corner of the parking lot.
A lone tree had been uprooted, toppling over on the minister’s Honda. He was alone, hands interlaced on the top of his head, inspecting the damage.
“Judging by the shape of that roof, I’d say it’s totaled,” Stack smiled.
The poignant symbolism wasn’t lost on those counting their blessings. Randall knew it was nothing but luck, but he’d be a fool to not capitalize on it. They quickly joined hands out in the soaked lawn and he led them through a short prayer of thanks.
Stasis (Book 1.2): Beta Page 11