“I’m telling you, Glen, this is what I get for over a decade with BNN. Puppy stories because I’m old.”
“You’re not old.”
“In this business I am,” she said.
“Look.” He shut the back door. “Every time it’s a happy story you get like this.”
“I don’t want happy stories. I want news again. I used to cover presidents. I did investigative reporting.”
“And now you don’t. People need these stories. You had a not so happy story this winter. Did we not follow that serial killer bit?”
“We did.”
“So there.”
“But that’s because Damien had the flu and we were in the area.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re a trusted face. They turn to you to forget the bad,” Glen said. “Be grateful, you could be that lady standing in a snow storm telling about how the snow is coming down.”
“And I’m working,” Eve said.
“You are working all the time. Which means, so am I.” Glen shut the door. “And we have to get on the road. I want to check into the hotel and start editing. We have a long drive.”
“To Fort Wayne.” Eve got in the van.
Glen joined her. “Even Fort Wayne has a story.”
Eve buckled her seatbelt and before placing her purse on the floor of the van, she unzipped it, pulled out a flask and took a big swig. After a gasp, she put it back. “Better. Can we stop and get a Roman Burger at Mr. Hero?”
“Without a doubt,” Glenn started the van. “I love those.”
“Me, too.” Eve didn’t feel better about being placed on the abandoned puppy story, it bothered her. It was another story in a long string of filler bits.
All she wanted was one more big story, just one more to prove she still had it.
Eve would get it, even if she had to find that story herself.
The big one.
4 – BROKEN
Franklin, PA
Hours upon hours and not a sip of water. Matt sat in the hallway just outside the intensive care waiting room. There was a row of four connecting chairs he sat in. Forearms resting against his thighs, Matt leaned slightly forward watching his own hands as he nervously tapped his fingers together.
“It wasn’t the impact of the car,” someone told him. “It was when she hit the ground.”
“Your wife has suffered cranial bleeding. There’s nothing we can do.”
“We’re sorry, Mr. Hader. She’s alive right now, but she won’t make it through the night.”
It wasn’t happening. It was a nightmare and every once in a while Matt would hit himself in the head to wake up
Wake up.
This wasn’t happening.
Then the nightmare grew worse.
“Mr. Hader, we know this seems like an inappropriate time. Your wife is a donor. Now, she can live on. She can save lives. Many of her organs are still viable right now. Our best chance is to harvest …”
Are you serious? Are you freaking kidding me? You’re asking right now? Right the fuck now? He blasted in his mind. But he didn’t speak those words. He just replied. “No. Absolutely not. She’s still alive. You can’t have them until she’s gone. I just want to hold her hand.”
And that was all Matt wanted. To take what little time he had left and hold his wife’s hand. Time was not something he had much of with her and he wanted every single second.
Then Hailey’s father walked in.
A towering man with a barrel chest who looked unemotional and cool as he stared at his dying daughter in the bed. Matt couldn’t figure out if her father, Stew, just tossed on a poker face or if he truly didn’t care.
He was an attorney, like Hailey. A rich man who threw his weight around.
His weight and power meant nothing in that hospital, especially when it came to harvesting Hailey’s organs. Matt was her husband. He trumped that until Stew called the office and produced Hailey’s living will.
Now, Matt’s last few hours were gone, taken from him as they whisked her away. He didn’t even get a chance to say a proper goodbye.
And Stew let them take her. He just let them bring her to the back, open her up and remove her organs to pass out like Halloween Candy.
Matt didn’t get it. He was angry, hurt and grieving, a part of him just wanted to die.
When they wheeled her to the operating room, it was then Matt took a seat in the hall.
“Matt,” Stew’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “I know this is hard …”
“You let them do it.”
“It’s what she wanted.”
“It’s not what I wanted,” Matt said. “She is my wife.”
“And she … is my child. My only child. I ….” Stew stooped talking. “I’m not fighting or arguing. I want to see the babies.”
“No.”
“I need to see the babies, Matt.”
Matt shook his head. “They don’t know yet. I have to be the one to tell them.”
“I won’t say a word. I need …”
“Tomorrow. Tomorrow you can see them. Not tonight.” Matt stared at his hands.
He didn’t know how long Stew stood there or when he walked away. Matt never looked up again until he heard another voice. A woman’s voice.
“Mr. Hader, I’m … I’m so sorry. I am so sorry.”
The woman before him was in her early forties. Her hair was in a messy pony tail, her face streaked as if she had been crying hysterically. The phone store name tag on her company polo shirt read, ‘Melinda’.
Matt couldn’t verbally respond, he just nodded his thanks and it wasn’t until she walked away in the direction of ICU that he realized who she was.
Melinda.
Melinda Bridges. If that was her last name. He wasn’t sure. Matt only knew her son, Luke Bridges was the one driving the car that killed Hailey.
While he appreciated that she apologized, he didn’t understand what she wanted in return. Did she want him to say, “Oh, thanks, that’s okay?” or ask, “How is your son?”
That wasn’t going to happen.
“Matt,” this time a male voice. One he knew.
Matt didn’t have to lift his head to know who was there, if the voice didn’t give it away, the gray uniform pants did. It was John Nash, the Chief of Police.
“Where do we stand?” Matt asked.
“Excuse me?” Nash asked. “What do you mean?”
“Justice. Whatever you want to call it.”
“Matt. We’re piecing it together. We’ll know more tomorrow. We’ll know even more when Luke wakes up. They expect him to make a full recover.”
Matt looked up to Nash. “And I’m supposed to say what?”
“Matt, come on.”
“Exactly what is there to know, Nash?” Matt asked. “The kid is bad news. Has been forever.”
“Matt …”
“You know it. Hell, it could even be deliberate. He saw her. Gunned it and hit her. Hailey was the attorney on the case against his family. You know when he was the town’s holy terror.”
“He was thirteen and that was six years ago,” Nash said. “The father’s gone now. His mother turned it around.”
“Should I applaud her for raising a murderer?”
“Matt, stop.”
“No, you stop. There should be a cop on his door, and he should be under arrest.”
“Matt, I have to be honest. There were no drugs, no alcohol in his system.”
“He wrecked his own car after hitting her.”
“He panicked, Matt.”
“Then find a way to get him for murder. I want charges, he killed my wife. Reckless driving.”
“We reviewed the Flower shop cameras. He had the green, while he didn’t slow down, he didn’t speed up. Hailey didn’t have the cross signal.”
“Are you saying it’s her fault?”
Nash shook his head. “No, I’m saying he turned. There is a blind spot in the car, the mail box on the corner added to that
.”
“Why are you defending him?”
“I’m defending the circumstances,” Nash said. “It was an accident. A horrible, tragic accident, but it was an accident. He simply didn’t see her.”
“I’m supposed to go home and tell my daughters that?”
“Yeah, Matt. That’s exactly what you tell your daughters. Now, go home. I’ll be in touch tomorrow.” Nash reached out, placing a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “Let me give you a ride.”
Matt hadn’t thought about leaving the hospital. He couldn’t. He knew once he left, it was reality and he wasn’t ready to face it.
Yet, he had to.
Reluctantly he agreed and accepted the ride. Nothing was said between the two men in the short five minute ride. Nash took him to his mother’s where the girls were probably already in bed.
It was well after midnight and the living room light was on, along with a hint of blue from the television.
Matt dreaded the thought of going into his parent’s home. Facing them.
The second he walked into the entrance hall and closed the door, his mother rushed to him.
“Matty, Sweetie, I’m so sorry.” She grabbed ahold of him and held on.
The clunking sound told him his father was getting out of the reclining chair. Solemnly he walked over to Matt, laid his hand on the back of Matt’s head and kissed him on the forehead.
“I'm sorry, son.”
Matt nodded. “Where are the girls?”
“In the bedroom,” his mother answered. “They’re asleep.”
“What do they know?” Matt asked.
She shook her head. “Not much. Only there was an accident.”
“Thanks.” Matt took a step away.
“Matt, you’re not going to wake them up to tell them, are you?” his mother asked.
“No, I’ll wait until morning. Dad, is there a beer in the fridge?”
“Yes,” his father replied. “Help yourself.”
Matt walked straight to the kitchen and to the refrigerator, grabbed a beer and opened it. He then returned to the hall and to the stairs.
“Matt,” his mother said. “If you need anything, if you need to talk …”
“Thanks.” Beer in hand, Matt walked up the steps.
The bedroom was to the right just at the top of the stairs, it was Matt’s old room. One his parents quickly redecorated for the girls when they stayed over.
A nightlight added a soft glow and the girls were snuggled in their twin beds.
Matt wanted to crumble when he looked at them. He took a second to kiss them both, being careful not to wake them. He wasn’t ready to tell them, not yet, and if they woke up he would have to.
Quietly, he sat on the floor between the two beds, his back against the nightstand as he took a long drink of his beer.
The truth was, Matt wasn’t just devastated, he was still in shock after seeing it happen. He knew though, for his girls he had to be strong, he had to keep it together.
He would.
But on this night, while they slept peacefully and unaware of the heartache they would face, Matt allowed himself to fold.
He would get it all out, right then and there, as best as he could. For their sake, he had to.
◆◆◆
Boston, MA
Elias sat in the patio section of the corner pub not far from his apartment. He made his way there because he knew they’d be open late. He could have gone home, but he wanted to call a colleague. Problem was, that colleague, Frederic Petit was overseas and Elias wanted to wait until he was awake. A middle of the night call would probably send Frederic into a frenzy thinking there was some sort of outbreak.
Elias probably could have gone home and waited, but more than likely he would have fallen asleep.
He sipped on a scotch with two cubes of ice. It was chilly out, but he kept his jacket zipped. The cooler air helped him stay awake.
“Last call?” the waitress asked.
“Yes, please. One more.” Elias downed the remainder of his drink and pushed the glass her way.
She’d be back rather quickly, there were only a few patrons at the bar.
When she returned, she brought the bill. Elias signaled her to wait and pulled out his wallet. After looking at the tab, he laid down cash and told her to keep the change.
After a healthy drink of his scotch, Elias picked up the phone. It was just about eight in the morning where Frederic was, surely he was awake and had his wits about him.
Frederic answered the phone in French, then switched to English. “Tell me there’s not a problem, my friend.”
“No, well, yes. Sort of,” Elias replied. “They want to place the ban back in effect. Not only that, this time, they don’t want to store and freeze the work, they want to destroy the creations.”
“Oh, no. We have fought this battle before.”
“Yes, we have. The words of a few in our field are enough to stir panic,” Elias said. “Anyhow, I have two reasons for calling you. I need all your notes, research and arguments you used ten years ago to argue the same case. They have a senate committee deciding this one for the president. Not NIH. I have to appear before them.”
“Absolutely, I will send you my notes and research. When is this committee?”
“The hearing is in a few weeks, I guess,” Elias said. “I don’t know.”
“Well, when you do, if I can make it there, would you like me to be with you?”
“That would be amazing. You are top in the field over there. Plus, it will work out with the other thing I need to ask.”
“Consider it done,” said Frederick. “What is the other thing?”
“X,” Elias replied; “I’m close. I’m there. You know and I know X is the end all for all threats. If I finish it, if I’m there, hell even if I’m not, if they determine it must be destroyed, I need you to take it. I can’t have all my work destroyed. Take it and all my research.”
“Eli, the research part is easy. But the virus … are you talking about a live sample of X?”
“Yes, I am.”
“That would take smuggling it here some way.”
“I know. I know it’s illegal and a lot to ask.”
“In the name of science, it’s a risk worth taking. I’ll find a way,” Frederic said. “I will transport your virus.”
5 – TRIAL BY ERROR
JUNE 27 - FOUR WEEKS LATER
Franklin, PA
Matt would have preferred to pull all the way into the driveway, but the lawn mower and a bike caused him to park right at the end.
He should have taken time to put both the bike and mower away, but he had to get to the store before heading off to his side job.
They were pretty symbolic of how his life was. Nothing was ever in order or where it should be, and Matt suffered from a severe case of attention deficit disorder lately.
Charlotte was riding her bike on the driveway, Matt had three year old Emma trapped on the porch with the baby gate while he ran the mower in their small front lawn. Of course, Hannah fell, Matt stopped mowing and then he realized as he ‘kissed the boo-boo’ that he had to go to the store. So, he left it all where it was. It was never a simple trip with the girls, or fast. Even if they asked for nothing, the getting them in and out of the car seat thing added at least ten minutes to the entire trip.
He packed them up and went to the store. It was relatively quick and painless, and when he pulled back into the driveway, he had enough time to put the groceries away and fix a quick lunch for the girls before his mother showed up to watch them.
He had a job digging a drain two streets over.
He undid the buckles of the car seats, removing each of the girls from the car.
“Go in the house,” he told them. “Wait, Hanna,” he handed her a plastic bag, it was light. “Make yourself useful.”
He gathered all the blue plastic bags and looped them on his arms. Since he was right there, he grabbed the mail from the box and tossed it in one of
the bags.
“Daddy! There’s a note on the door.”
Matt grumbled. “I figured as much. Go on in. I’ll be right there.” He fumbled the bags as he made his way to the door. A three day shut off from the electric company was taped on the front door. After dropping the bags just inside, he grabbed the note, tossed it on the table by the door figuring he’d get to it later.
He ran back out to shut the driver’s door, which he left open and was totally spent by the time he came back in and lugged the bags to the kitchen.
The mail flopped out when he dropped them on the floor and Matt picked up the stack. He hadn’t retrieved the mail in days. He hated doing it, it was always late notices or bills.
The same went for his phone, he couldn’t remember the last time he blindly answered it without looking at the caller ID during the day. It seemed the bill collectors called constantly, and it was like they pinged his phone. The second he lifted it to use it, whether to text or use an app, they called.
He was trying.
When Hailey died, she had plenty of life insurance, an obscene amount, but an air tight will tossed nearly all the money into a college fund and trusts for the girls, leaving just a small amount for funeral expenses. That and the money he received from the car insurance would had been enough had Hailey not kept everything a secret.
She handled paying the household bills, and Matt realized why she was so insistent on it. Her salary with what little money Matt made, barely covered the bills. She had opened credit lines and credit cards without his knowledge, and the debt was insurmountable.
He couldn’t blame her, he never really bothered to ask or think about where the money was magically coming from.
It made him sick to think about how big of a hole he was in, so he avoided facing it. Just like the mail.
In his typical move, he walked to the garbage can, skimmed each letter as he tossed them in.
He paused when he saw the white envelope. The hand written address made out to Charlotte Hader, care of Matthew Hader. In the left hand corner, the name Lucas Bridges.
A lump formed in his gut, seeing that name made him think of the day Luke Bridges showed up on his front step.
Plague Book: One Final Gasp Page 2
