Brett Battles - Sick

“Maybe it’s not, but Matt’s not here.”

“You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“I already think you’re crazy.”

They glanced at each other, then she laughed.

“All right,” she finally said. “Are you buckled in?”

He rolled his eyes, then smiled. “Yeah. I’m buckled in.”

“I’m serious.”

He held up a defensive hand. “Okay, sorry.”

She was quiet so long that he looked over to see what was wrong. She had twisted in her seat and was studying him.

“What?” he asked.

“I’ve never been the one to tell anyone before. I’ve only listened as others have done it, so I want to get it right.”

“Okay,” he said, drawing the word out. “Just let me know when you’re ready.”

He heard her take a breath, then she said, “I’m ready now.”

Outside, the mountains had finally started to fall behind them, and the road started to straighten out.

“The end of our world is coming. And it’s happening on purpose.”

“Can you hear me?” Tamara said into her phone. She was sitting in the front seat of the van, with the door closed so that no competing reporter might overhear the conversation, trying to figure out who she was talking to.

“Yes, I can hear you,” the female voice replied.

Tamara glanced into the back of the van where Bobby was sitting at the editing console. “Is it okay?” she mouthed.

He gave her the thumbs up, nodding. Often phone conversations needed to be recorded, so they had a device that hooked Tamara’s phone into the van’s equipment, only this time the setup was a little stranger than other times, as the voice of the person on the other end was coming via another phone being held up to a CB radio.

“Can you please give me your name?” Tamara asked.

“It’s Martina Gable.”

Tamara gave it a beat so that Bobby would have a place to cut out the first part of the audio, then said, “Martina, can you tell us where you are, please?”

“Yes. We’re in Cryer’s Corner, California.”

“Who’s we?”

“Well, I’m here with the Burroughs High School softball team. We were headed home from a tournament when we got stuck here.”

“Because of the quarantine?”

“Yes.”

“And there are others there, too?”

“Yeah, there’s the people who live here, and a few others who showed up in cars and got stuck, too. And Ben, of course. Ben Bowerman. He’s the one who figured out the CB.”

“And that’s how you’re talking to us?”

“Yeah. All the phones and the Internet stopped working. And there hasn’t been any cell service here since we arrived.”

Now that Tamara had gotten the basics out of the way, she started in on the more important questions. “It’s our understanding that Cryer’s Corner is in the quarantine zone. How did you get there?”

“Well,” Martina said. “It wasn’t in the zone when we arrived. Until this morning, the roadblock was west of us.”

Interesting . “And then they moved it east?”

“Yes.”

“Any idea why?”

Martina didn’t respond right away.

“Are you still there?” Tamara asked.

“Yes, I’m here. We think they moved it because of Paul.”

“Who is Paul?”

“Paul Unger. He’s the one who took the video your channel’s been playing.”

Tamara smiled. This was exactly what she wanted. “And you’re the one who uploaded it?”

“Yes.”

“How long after this did the Internet go out at Cryer’s Corner?”

“Maybe an hour or two.”

“So, after it started playing on television.”

“Yeah.”

“I’d like to talk to Paul about the video. Is that possible?”

A pause. “He was…injured just as he got here. He’s in the cafe across the street.”

“How bad is he hurt?”

“Messed up his knee and hit his head when the guys in the helicopters took a shot at him.”

Tamara froze for half a second, stunned. “Can you repeat that?”

Martina did.

“Can you tell me exactly what happened?”

“Sure. I saw most of it from the roof of the gas station.”

The girl then proceeded to tell Tamara about Paul’s escape. After that she relayed the story Paul had told her about his brother and his girlfriend, and their murders in the desert canyon. Through it all, Tamara and Bobby kept sharing shocked looks.

“There’s…there’s something else, too,” Martina said as she finished Paul’s story.

“Yes?”

“Coach Delger thinks Paul might be sick. You know, with the Sage Flu. We’ve split into two groups. One that was exposed to Paul and one that wasn’t. No one else has shown signs of anything, though, so maybe he just has a cold.”

Tamara had already been feeling a strong connection to the girl, but now she felt her stomach sinking. “Which group are you in, Martina?” she asked, afraid she knew the answer.

“I…I was exposed. That’s how I found out about the video. Bu please don’t put that part in your story. I don’t want my mom to know yet.”

“Sure. We’ll keep that part out,” Tamara said, meaning it. “Can we talk again in the morning?”

“We’ll have to come back to the truck where the radio is. What time?”

“Eight?”

“Zee?” Martina asked. “Is eight okay for you?”

“As long as I’m still sitting here, which looks pretty likely,” the trucker who’d connected them said.

“Great,” Tamara replied. “We’ll talk to you then.”

As soon as she hung up, she turned to Bobby. “Oh, my God.”

“Oh, my God is right,” he said.

“I’ll bet you that the helicopters that shot at this Paul guy are the same ones we saw. The same ones who killed his brother and his girlfriend.”

Bobby didn’t reply, but the look on his face said he was thinking the same thing.

There was a knock on the passenger window beside her. Joe was standing right outside. He’d been on lookout to make sure nobody got near the van while she was on the phone. She motioned for him to climb into the back.

“So?” he asked, once he’d joined them.

“You’re not going to believe it,” she said.

“Tell me.”

While Bobby worked on cutting the important parts of the interview into their already prepared piece, Tamara filled Joe in.

“I think we should go up with it on my next spot,” she said once she was done.

She could see the hesitation in Joe’s eyes.

“Come on. It’s great stuff,” she told him.

“It is,” he said. “I would just feel a bit more comfortable if we sent it to the network first, so they know what we have.”

“I think we should just go for it,” Tamara argued. “I don’t want them messing this up.”

“You know that’s not the way we’re supposed to do things. Network has the right to see all this first.”

“Oh, I see. You’re Mr. Corporate-Rule-Follower now?”

“No,” he said, his face hardening. “But I am a man with a family who would like to keep his job. We do this on our own, there’s a very good chance we get fired. You’ll have no problem finding something else. Me, it won’t be so easy.”

She looked out the window, annoyed, but knowing Joe was right.

“Fine,” she said. “But if the network tries to change any of this, our version gets posted to the Internet.”

Mr. Shell had been right to keep his eye on the reporter. Perhaps taking her brother had been a mistake, but it had revealed that she was a problem.

If people would just let things go, they had a much better chance of living.

He had watched the report the woman and her editor had just sent to their bosses in New York, and knew it was time to do something about it. But given the slapdown he’d gotten over the death of the girl’s brother, he decided to cover his ass first.