Scott Sigler - Contagious

“So he did not detect it this time,” Vanessa said. “Which means if the Jewells do run, there’s no knowing whether Perry can track them at all.”

Murray’s face felt very hot. “I would say that’s correct, ma’am. But we also don’t know if this jamming will continue, or if he can hear them should he get closer. He’s the only detection asset we have. We need to send him now.”

“What we need to do,” Vanessa said, “is make sure we help the Jewells before it’s too late. After we have them, then bring in Dawsey—under heavy guard—to communicate with the triangles. He can still do that, right, Murray?”

“Yes,” Murray said, although he really didn’t know the answer.

“Then we agree that it’s a bad idea to send Dawsey in first.”

Murray shook his head. “That’s not what I said.”

“Come on, Murray,” she said. “Your tangled web of secrets just isn’t working. We need to stop fucking around.”

“I hardly think Amos Braun was fucking around when he died in the line of duty, Miss Colburn.” The words shot out of his mouth before he could control them.

“Of course that’s not what she meant,” Gutierrez said coolly. “Right, Vanessa?”

She glared at Murray. The eyes sent a clear message: You just embarrassed me in front of the president, and I won’t forget it.

“Of course,” she said. “My apologies, Murray.”

Gutierrez nodded once, as if the apology ended the incident for good.

Vanessa turned to face Gutierrez. “What I meant to say, John, was that we need to step this up a level. We need to send in Ogden.”

Again with calling the president by his first name.

“And have Ogden do what?” Murray asked. “Blockade the town? Go door-to-door and administer Margaret’s test?”

“Exactly,” she said. “That’s exactly what we have to do.”

President Gutierrez looked at her for quite a long time, his fingers tapping a pattern on the desk. He turned and looked at Murray. “Won’t it be impossible to control secrecy if we do that?”

Murray looked at the president, then at Vanessa. Her eyes were cold and emotionless once again. He didn’t like her, but he respected that kind of bold move. She wanted to send in the troops? Lock down an entire town? Vanessa Colburn did not fuck around.

“Actually, sir,” Murray said, “I agree with Miss Colburn. And I believe we can preserve secrecy. Doctor Cheng has been using a story about flesh-eating bacteria as cover for his research. Say a plane is flying over Gaylord with research material for the flesh-eating bacteria, the plane goes off the radar… well, that could inadvertently expose civilians. The local population is at risk, which gets us total cooperation of area law enforcement. We use local cops as our spokespeople; the residents will listen to them. We have enough tests to check all the residents we can find. Testing is an easy sell when we tell people they could rot and die horribly if they have the bacteria and go untreated.

“We evacuate the town, test everyone on the way out, then go door-to-door to see who’s left behind. We either get the infected coming out of town or get them in their homes. As soon as we secure the town, we let everyone back in. Two days at the most.”

Gutierrez raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You rattled that off like you’ve invaded a town before.”

Murray nodded. “There have been instances. If you’re willing to sign the secrecy-assurance documents, I can share any story you’d like to hear.

I have thirty years’ worth.”

Gutierrez tapped the desktop some more before he spoke. “How long will it take Ogden’s men to deploy to Gaylord?”

“Otsego Airport is right in the town proper,” Murray said. “Ogden and his men can land in C-17s, complete with Humvees, and we’ll have Ospreys and Apaches in support. He’ll probably be on the ground in Gaylord three or four hours from the time I make the call. But sir, I still strongly suggest putting Dawsey in play. If he can sniff out the hosts, it could shorten the process. Ogden’s men can make sure he stays under control.”

Gutierrez turned to Vanessa. She nodded.

“Do it, Murray,” Gutierrez said. “Get Tom Maskill an overview of the bacteria-story details, and we’ll coordinate. But I want Dawsey and Phillips to sit tight until Ogden arrives. And I’m not kidding, Murray—they better sit down and get some coffee and not do a damn thing. I am going to check up on that, and if I find out that my orders have been ignored, you’re finished.”

Murray needed to get the hell out of the Oval Office and call Dew before Perry could do anything stupid.

“Yes sir,” Murray said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to implement this right away.”

Gutierrez nodded. Murray almost ran out of the room.

Chelsea stood at the foot of her parents’ bed eating a Crunch Bar Eskimo Pie. It was only 8:00 A.M., and this was her third Crunch.

Mommy and Daddy didn’t get to make the rules anymore.

Try to wake them up. But don’t use words.

“For real?”

Speak to me with your thoughts.

Sorry, Chelsea thought.

My connection is going to be the strongest with you. You will help me talk to the rest. Now try to wake the mup.

Chelsea took a bite of ice cream, swallowed it, then concentrated.

Wake up, sleepyheads.

Nothing happened.

Try again. Don’t be nice, Chelsea.

You know how when you get angry, when you scream, your voice gets louder?

Yes.

Thoughts work the same way. Have your parents ever done anything to make you angry?

Chelsea’s smile faded away. Why shouldn’t she have all the ice cream she wanted? Why wouldn’t Daddy let her get her ears pierced? And why couldn’t she get a puppy? She wanted a puppy. That just wasn’t fair .

Maybe Daddy needed protection, but he also need to stop being bad .

Chelsea focused again.

Wake up, Daddy… or I’m going to spank you .

Daddy sat up fast, fully awake. He just stared at Chelsea. She had never seen Daddy’s face look like that before. His mouth was open and his eyes were all wide.

“Did you say something, honey?”

He absently scratched at his left arm. A big orange scabby thing came off in his hand. Without taking his eyes from his daughter, he tossed the scabby thing away and started scratching again.

I told you to wake up or I would spank you .

Daddy stopped scratching. His right hand just sort of hung on his left shoulder, frozen in half-scratch.

“That’s what I thought,” he said in a quiet voice.

Chelsea turned to stare at Mommy. Wake up, Mommy.

Mommy lifted her head, then set it back down, rolled over and groaned.

“Oh, I’m so hot,” she said. “Bob, tell Chelsea to stop screaming and go back to bed. She made me so goddamn sick.”

Daddy kept staring. “Uh, Candy? Uh… you better wake up.”

“I’m not kidding, Bob,” Mommy said in her Daddy Is So Stupid voice.

Chelsea dropped the ice cream stick on the floor.

Mommy, you get out of bed or I’ll make Daddy spank you.

Mommy sat up slowly and pulled the blankets right under her chin.

She stared at her daughter, face full of confusion.

“Chelsea,” Mommy whispered, “am I hearing you… in my… my head ?”

“Get up, Candy,” Daddy said. “Please. She’s making me want to… to punish you.”

Mommy looked at Daddy and started to cry. She wasn’t getting up.

Chelsea had told her to get up.

Daddy, Mommy is being a bad girl .