Brian O'Grady - Hybrid

Lisa hung up the phone and turned to Amanda. “You heard?”

Amanda nodded and went to hug her mother-in-law. “I’m so sorry, Lisa. Sorry that any of this ever happened.”

Lisa cried for several moments and then slowly pulled away. “Your eyes are moist, Amanda,” she said, wiping a tear from her daughter-in-law’s face.

“I guess I’m not totally made of stone.”

“It’s terrible, but I wasn’t just crying for Oliver. I didn’t know him as well as Greg did.” She looked into Amanda’s eyes. “He’s a good man, and he’s in a lot of pain. I feel so helpless.” She tried to stifle a sob, but it escaped as a gasp. “He won’t share it with me; he’ll take that pain and hide it in a place that I’ve never been able to reach, and it will eat away at him. Sometimes. .” Now her tears were falling again. “Sometimes, I wonder why God has brought so much pain into our lives.” Lisa’s voice began to rise and her voice broke. “What purpose did it serve to allow John Oliver to die? What purpose did it serve to take the lives of Michael and Jacob? Why does he allow such evil to exist? My soul needs an answer beyond the knee-jerk ‘trust in God’s mercy,’ because I really haven’t experienced a lot of His mercy in the last few years.” Her voice had turned hard and angry, but her tears continued to fall.

“I had a part in that,” Amanda said, and a second tear fell down her cheek.

Lisa wanted to deny it, but there was no point in lying. “Amanda, I thank God every night for bringing you into our lives, and I know that Greg does as well.” Lisa smoothed Amanda’s hair, and then kissed her forehead. “No matter how much you change, no matter what happens to you, we both love you with every fiber of our being.”

Amanda wiped more tears from her eyes. “I know that.” She pulled completely away. “Are you stocked for the week?” She said suddenly, changing the uncomfortable subject.

“Yes,” Lisa said simply. “Are you going to stay?”

“For a little while, at least until Greg comes home.” Amanda picked up the small satchel that she had brought back from Fort Collins. “He has more of the virus, and he won’t stop, no matter how many of his terrorist buddies get killed by priests.”

“How will you find him?”

“I have no idea. I’ve lost all traces of him. I don’t know if he’s too far away, or dead, or just completely shut himself down.” She nervously opened and closed the small bag. ”I should turn this in and see if someone else can divine something from it.”

“You’re sure it’s. . Of course, you’re sure it’s not infected, otherwise you wouldn’t have brought it here.” Lisa corrected herself. “He wouldn’t stay in Colorado; I’m guessing that he’s made a beeline for the nearest border or ocean.”

“Costa Rica. He plans to wait out our demise while sitting in a tropical jungle,” Amanda said, and Lisa stared back at her curiously. “I saw it in his mind when we were at the hospital,” Amanda explained. ”I saw everything,” she added quietly.

* * *

The check-engine light was on continuously and the temperature gauge was well past the red line. Reisch let loose a string of profanities in three languages, but his predicament didn’t change. He was going to have to find another mode of transportation, but in rural New Mexico, three hours after a nationwide curfew had been established, that was going to be a difficult task.

He had been warned that something like this might happen; Jeser’s network of support was virtually nonexistent outside major American cities, but Reisch was comfortable in his abilities. For more than three decades, he had survived so well that his very existence was questioned by some.

“You were a professional then,” Pushkin said, appearing suddenly and darkening Reisch’s already dark mood. “You followed the rules and did things correctly; you prepared yourself to complete your task and to disappear. Years ago you never would have done anything as amateurish as this.”

Reisch wanted to ask what he meant, but the answer would quickly turn into a lecture over his behavior the last two months.

“It’s not just the last two months,” his mentor said after reading his thoughts. “It’s been the last seven years; really your troubles began when you went to that sewer in the desert. You had no business passing yourself off as a security guard for a bunch of Arabs.”

“If you remember correctly, it was you who introduced me to Avanti. Besides, I’ve heard all of this before; do you have anything constructive to contribute, or did you pop in just to harangue me?”

“You rely more on this mind-reading crap than training and experience, and look where it’s gotten you.” Pushkin said under his breath. “Turn the radio on,” he commanded suddenly.

Reisch glanced at the shimmering form of his old teacher and flipped the knob with obvious irritation. He changed the channel several times looking for a classical music station, but all he heard were news reports.

“Stop,” Pushkin ordered, and for a moment, Klaus didn’t know what he meant. “Did you hear that? Go back to the last station.” Reisch found the station and listened with horror.

“. . still coming in, but what we do know is that there has been another incident in Los Angeles similar to what happened in New York yesterday. The military is being very cautious about this, but it appears as if another terrorist has been caught or killed in a suburban Los Angeles mall as he was trying to release the virus.. . ”

A longer string of profanities drowned out the announcer’s next words. Los Angeles and New York were critical to success.

“. . optimism, and that the threat remains. There are no plans to modify or lift the quarantine and all noncritical people are to remain indoors. All those caught in violation of the quarantine order are being held in contamination centers throughout the country.”

Pushkin listened intently, and when the car engine finally seized he turned to Reisch. ”It seems that your difficulties leaving this country may have a purpose.” White smoke began to pour out from beneath the hood. “You should have kept the Mercedes,” he said as the stolen sedan coasted to an unscheduled stop.

Reisch climbed out of the car and Pushkin followed. They hadn’t seen any signs of life for hours; the high desert was cold, wind-swept, and completely dark. The night sky was alight with a universe of stars, and a full moon was just beginning to rise over the mountains to the east. Off in the far distance, two dark shapes glided through the thin air; a pair of eagles out for a late night flight, completely oblivious to the larger plight of humanity, or the more immediate plight of Reisch. “Three or four miles up the road, there’s a farm,” he said to Pushkin’s ghost, and pointed to a small collection of lights. He was angry, but consoled himself with the fact that he had been tested before and had always prevailed.

“I guess we walk,” Pushkin said staring up the road, and Reisch looked at him questioningly. ”We could always wait for someone to carry us, but I’m guessing it will be a long wait.”

Reisch retrieved his small oversized suit bag, slung it over his shoulder, and started down the dark street. Pushkin started in on him in less than fifty paces.

“Why do you always use German cars?” The steaming sedan had been an almost new Audi A8; Reisch found it in a Pueblo used car lot, and with less than ten thousand miles on it, he could never have anticipated its failure after another one hundred.

“Usually, they are quite reliable,” Reisch said slightly defensively. “Why do you always speak in English?”

“I speak the language you speak,” Pushkin answered.