David answered.
“David, this is Chuck Wright. Is it possible to speak to Bret, or to put me through to her show?”
“No can do, Chuck.” David said. “Her lines are lit up. She has a ton of calls about this.”
Chuck exhaled. “I thought so. Hey, do me a favor.”
“If I can.”
“Oh, you can. I know you type up the caller name, area, and reason for call. Can you save me a log of all that?”
“Why?”
Chuck grunted. “It goes with a story I’m working on.”
“You’re working on a story about ants?”
“Amongst other things.”
“Does Bret know?” David asked.
“Nope, because she failed to mention this to me. Tell her I called and please save that log.”
“Want me to fax it?”
“I’d love you for it.”
“Why don’t you give Jesse a call? He blew up the street.”
“Jesse blew up the street?” Chuck laughed. “I’ll call him tomorrow. He’s probably sleeping. Thanks, David.”
After hanging up, Chuck just stayed there on the side of the road. He lifted the notes he had taken during his call to George, then reached out to increase the volume on the radio. Three times, he glanced from his notes to the radio. “Man,” he whispered in confusion. “What is going on?”
2. THE CHANGE
May 6th …
Scientists attributed it to enriched soil, perfect weather conditions, and immunity to pesticides, all of which built throughout the years, until finally…boom. It hits. That was the explanation for the sudden surge in the ant population that seemed to plague the Northeast United States. It didn’t make sense to many, but it was accepted. After all, the scientific community presented it.
Bret’s street looked like a war zone. They hit the pest lottery, and a huge ant colony was discovered existing under the street. Sidewalks were lifted, pavement and black top removed, all to uncover it. The borough worked diligently to destroy it. But every attempt seemed futile, and the ants returned in ten fold.
They dug twenty feet downward, closed off the street and suggested flooding the pit. Though it sounded insane, it was worth a shot, and to Bret anything that stopped her from buying all those round traps was a bonus.
That was one pest.
There was another not mentioned at all by the borough.
The cockroach.
There must have been something attractive to them about Buster’s bowel movements, because the third roach was found in his diaper.
Though Sally had set traps and not seen a single roach in her house, she called an exterminator, the only one who wasn’t overwhelmed with work and could promise he’d stop by within a week. The pest control business was booming, at least in Bret’s town.
***
If Chuck didn’t trust Bret’s producer as much as he did, he would have sworn David was pacifying him about the fax. But David insisted he faxed the caller log twice. Finally, Chuck went to David’s home and picked up the document.
The Erie, Pennsylvania story kept him there an entire day. When he returned the next, he spoke to Bret and David. Chuck was a man on a story mission, and before he finished the piece, he wanted more information and facts. Those were to come from Bret and David. Chuck didn’t fear someone scooping him; the severity of the Pittsburgh ant incident was swept like bugs under the rug, and no one took it seriously.
The newest McDonald’s creation dripped a ketchup mixture onto his lap, and Chuck only smeared it when he used the rough napkin. Car eating was always a sloppy task for Chuck, but he had no choice. At least he was parked.
Rolling the napkin into a ball, the red speckled paper snapped his mind back to the day before. He followed a name that came up twice in Erie—a man he spoke to only briefly—and that trail led him right outside Canton, Ohio.
“Dr. Andrew Jeffers,” Chuck requested of the soldier who was posted outside of the abandoned small church. “Tell him Chuck Wright, The Johnstown Tribune Democrat.”
The solider nodded to another soldier then slipped in between the double doors.
Chuck took in the site. The small white building had several black cars and military vehicles parked outside. It was deemed the ‘Temporary Office of the Federal Department of Agriculture.’ As if Canton required the United States government to step in to help with their minor farming needs.
Chuck assumed that this extension had been quickly set up and was temporary. But why where they here?
The soldier returned and opened the door for Chuck, allowing him inside, but he was only permitted to go into the foyer.
He let his ears zoom in like the bionic woman, trying to hear what he could. Within seconds, Dr. Andrew Jeffers emerged in a secretive manner from the interior of the church.
“Before you thank me for seeing you…” Jeffers said. “Allow me to say you are fast becoming a pain in my ass.” He ran his hand over his head and walked to a canteen. “Coffee, Mr. Wright?”
“No, thanks,” Chuck said. “How, sir, am I becoming a pain in the ass?”
“Four calls yesterday.…”
“Which you didn’t return.”
“One today. Two visits to Erie.…”
“Well, I’m sure it’s nothing compared to other reporters.”
“What other reporters?” Jeffers fixed his coffee. “The way you’re pursuing this, Mr. Wright, I’d believe I was some sort of big celebrity and you’re the paparazzi.”
“Exaggerating, don’t you think?”
“No.” Jeffers was polite, yet blunt. “Are you pining for a big newspaper job somewhere? Do you think you’re on the brink of breaking of huge story?”
“Well, yes.”
“Well…you’re wrong.” Jeffers raised his eyebrows. “There’s nothing to tell. I’m sorry.”
“The ants in that Pittsburgh community, the.…”
“Mr. Wright.” Jeffers cut him off. “Occasionally the earth gets a little too stuffed with nature, and it burps that little stuff out. That’s it. No more. Happened before, will happen again.”
“At this magnitude?”
“What magnitude?” Jeffers asked.
“An entire street, sidewalks and all, removed, a huge lake hole dug into it.”
Jeffers laughed. “The work of overreacting and neurotic borough workers. That’s it. Your information is also grossly distorted. I believe that street that was dug up was only a twenty by five foot section.” He spoke nonchalantly. “Hardly lake-size.”
“What about Erie?”
“Smaller than that Pittsburgh community incident. Two bug mishaps do not a story make.” Jeffers smiled and walked to the double doors. “Mr. Wright, may I give you some advice?”
Chuck nodded.
“Let this go. Save your paper the expense, yourself the work and humiliation. There is nothing happening. We had two freakish incidents. That’s it.”
“Only two.”
“Yes.” Jeffers opened the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“One more thing.”
Jeffers huffed, and gave a polite smile. “Yes.”
“If they were freak incidents, and only two in Erie and Pittsburgh, then why, Dr. Jeffers, does the United States government have an agricultural office, complete with military guards, set up in Canton Ohio.”
Dr. Jeffers didn’t respond; he slipped back through the doors.
That was it.
With another bite of his cold McDonald’s sandwich, Chuck closed that memory and meeting. He glanced down to his phone, and lifted it. “Come on, Bret. What’s taking you so long?”
***
A day off. A complete day off for Bret. She even forewent getting some sleep to enjoy the day. Got the kids off to school, cleaned her house, then settled on the porch for a while to watch the construction workers and fire department flood that huge gaping hole in the street that was fast becoming James Avenue Lake.
She thought of Jesse whil
e she was on the porch. How it could have easily been him out there working on the street, because that was the type of construction he was doing. In a way she felt fortunate he wasn’t, because her days were hers. She enjoyed watching other sweaty construction workers—her sweaty husband was not the vision she wanted to see.
She stayed out for a short time; the progress was slow, and it was a bit boring. The only excitement came when occasionally someone would yell out, ‘Fuck, these things won’t die.’
Inside she booted up the computer, a task she was supposed to do an hour earlier but forgot. Her plan to attempt—again—to send Chuck the pictures from the street was thwarted momentarily when Jesse walked in the door. She glanced at her watch, then at him.
“What are you doing home?” she asked. “It’s only eleven o’clock.”
“Why?” he retorted.
“I asked first.”
“We’re not working today. It’s raining.”
Immediately, Bret stood up, walked to the door, opened it, and looked out. The sun was bright and warm. “Oh, yeah.” she said sarcastically. “It’s pouring.” She shut the door. “Jesse, there’s not a cloud in the sky.”
“It was raining.”
“When?”
“This morning. We waited for it to stop. It didn’t.”
“Right. You called off on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did.” He shook his head. “No, Bret, It was raining. Feel.” He grabbed her hand and laid it on his thigh. “My jeans are still wet.”
“Ew.” She shook my hand. “Probably sweat.”
He just stared.
“Fine.” She turned from him.
“Fine?” he chuckled. “It’s fine that I’m home. Thanks for permission. You act like I’m in the way or something.”
“You are.”
“Of what?”
Smug, Bret cocked her head. “My day. So there. I’m not making you lunch. I cook for you enough.”
“Bret, I still have my lunch from this morning.”
“That’s foul.”
Jesse gave up. After giving his stock, ‘whatever’, he headed up stairs.
“You’re not going to sleep are you?” She yelled up.
“No. But so what if I am. I’ll be out of the way of your day.” He yelled down.
“I just made the beds. Don’t sit on them.”
“I’m taking a shower.”
“OK, but I just used the Daily Clean. So squirt the doors when you’re finished.”
The closing of the bathroom door was his only response. He was either going to follow her instructions, or he was just ignoring her. She banked on the latter and returned to the computer.
Her message to Chuck was simple: ‘Okay, routed from your mother. Hope you get it this time. I can’t believe you haven’t received these pictures yet.’ After attaching the photos, she hit ‘send’ in her fourth attempt to electronically reach Chuck.
***
Chuck laughed in complete enjoyment, gloating—as if anyone was around to see it. “Yeah, right.” He said to himself in his car. “This is nothing.” Laughing aloud, he viewed via his phone the pictures that Bret sent him; pictures that had gotten lost in the electronic universe for some odd reason. “Thank you,” he said then typed it in as a reply.
He put the phone in the glove compartment, checked the tiny recorder, and opened the door to his car. A good whiff of the spring air lifted his chest and a grin crossed his face as he took a good glance at a building on the grounds of West Virginia University.
Chuck glanced down at the call log in his small notebook and made a check mark as he proceeded to the building. The door was open, and he followed the directions hand-written on that sheet.
Empty corridors struck him as odd seeing how it was the middle of the day. Though some classes were done for the summer, surely there had to be students remaining. He saw them about campus.
Another turn of the bend, and he caught glimpse of the yellow ‘do not cross’ tape that plastered the set of double doors.
It had to be the room. It was.
The room number and name matched the information Chuck had. Mini-cam tucked in his chest pocket, Chuck snapped a few pictures and then reached for the handle.
“May I help you?” A female voice called out.
Chuck turned around. “Hi, Chuck Wright, I’m a reporter with the Johnstown Democrat.”
She didn’t recognize the name of the paper; that was obvious.
So Chuck lied. “And also with People Magazine.”
The woman smiled brightly, “Yes. How can I help you?”
Chuck pointed at the doors. “Professor Cobb. Where can I find him?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t a clue.”
“Do you work here?”
“Yes, I do. I’m Assistant Dean.”
Chuck snorted a laugh. “And you don’t know where he is. He’s the head of.…” He reviewed his notes. “Geology?”
“Ecological Studies. And I don’t know where he is.”
“Did he just leave? Vacation? What?”
“They took him.”
“Who?” Chuck started to take notes.
“After the incident, he and Dr. Reye.…”
“Who is Dr. Reye?”
“Colleague, friend.” She answered. “They took them by ambulance.”
“Both? What happened?”
“Don’t know.”
Chuck paused in writing.
“Seems Dr. Reye called emergency services for help, but they took them, and before I knew it some government services were in here sealing off the room.”
“Can I go in?”
“We’re supposed to keep everyone out.” She said innocently. “I’m sorry.”
Turning on the charm, Chuck gave her a smile. “Come on. Just a look. Aren’t you the least bit curious as to what happened in that room?”
She titled her head. “Well, yeah.”
Chuck winked. “A peek.”
After exhaling, she reached for her keys. “A peek. But hurry. The soldier went for a soda.”
Chuck laid his hand on her wrist as she went to unlock the door. “Soldier.”
“Military, yes,” she said. “I told you the government came in.”
“Thank you for this.”
“Not a problem.” She inserted the key.
A clearing of a throat made her pause.
Chuck looked up and whined. “No.”
Dr. Andrew Jeffers walked down the hall with two soldiers.
“Now, who’s following who?” Chuck asked.
“You mean ‘whom’.” Jeffers corrected. “Ms. Withers, can you excuse us.”
“Certainly,” The woman rolled the key into her hand, gave an apologetic glance to Chuck, and backed away.
“Mr. Wright” Dr. Jeffers walked closer. “You are fast becoming a pain in my ass as I said before.” He reached forward snatching the camera from Chuck’s chest pocket.
“Hey.” Chuck snarled. “Fine. Forget it. I don’t need that. I have other proof.”
Snidely, Jeffers held up Chuck’s phone. “You mean this? Now you have nothing.” He handed that to a soldier.
“You went in my car.” Chuck said. “What the hell?”
“I told you to drop this.”
“What are you doing here?” Chuck asked.
“I’m doing my job.”
“So am I,” Chuck responded. “And you won’t hold me back. I got proof once, I’ll get it again.”
Jeffers slowly turned. “No you won’t.” He gave a nod to the soldiers.
Before Chuck could question, his arms were grabbed.
“Take him,” Jeffers said, and then walked away.
***
Jesse took quick showers. Not like most men who took extremely long showers and used the excuse, “I had to wash twice” as a cover up for the fact that they were jerking off. Jesse was in and out. Bret had enough time to send Chuck another simple message when the water lines squeaked—J
esse was done—and Sally yelled in through the back door.
“Bret, you have a few minutes?” she asked.
Bret turned from the computer. Sally was in the kitchen with Buster. “Yes, what’s up?” she met up with Sally. “Hey, you, Buster.”
Buster giggled and reached his hand out. “Bug. Big bugs.”
“Yes, I know.” Bret glanced to Sally. “Did you find another?”
“No, the exterminator is here. Can you…can you come over. He looks like a rapist.”
“Bug guy rapist.” Buster kicked his legs.
Bret chuckled. “He looks like a rapist?”
“Yeah, like your husband when he works on the yard.”
“Jesse doesn’t look like a rapist.”
Buster repeated, “Jesse rapist.”
Sound traveled. Jesse heard. His loud, “What was that?” made them hunch. His feet barreled down the steps and he came into the kitchen.
“See.” Sally pointed at Jesse whose dark, curly, hair was wet and tossed about.
“What are you teaching Sally’s kid?” Jesse asked.
Bret waved her hand at him. “He’s repeating. The exterminator is at Sally’s. She said he looks like a rapist and I’m going over.”
“Oh.” Jesse nodded.
“In fact.” Bret sang her words. “She said he looks like you. Hmm.”
“Sounds about right, last week I made it on the post office wall for parking meter fraud.” Jesse gave a pat to Bret’s head then kissed her. “If you need me.…”
Bret snickered. “Well, you are the undercover bug expert.”
Jesse grumbled and Bret left the house with Sally and Buster.
To say Bret was insulted was putting it mildly. Sally thought the bug guy looked like her husband? Bret wondered if Sally was looking through rose-colored glasses and if the entire neighborhood viewed Jesse as some overweight, sloppy, pudgy-faced, formerly bad-skinned man. To her the only thing that they had in common was the hair. That was it. The bug guy didn’t even have the same color hair as Jesse. In fact, he was much shorter than Jesse’s six four frame.
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