by Penn Gates
She glances over her shoulder at Janet, sitting with hands folded on the small bunk at the rear of the semi’s cab. While Lisa can’t wait to arrive at their destination, she wonders if the girl feels the same way. Does she believe me when I tell her she’ll always have a place with us? And exactly what does that mean? Once I find what I’m looking for, is there a reason for us any more? And when I’m able to get what I find to the CDC in Atlanta, how can I keep my promise to Janet?
Lisa decides to stop driving herself crazy thinking about things she can’t control in this moment. Who knows what will happen tomorrow, let alone a month from now? Instead, she focuses on the stark scrawl of trees that marks the distant horizon, finding a green smudge of promise here and there. Nature is beginning to wake up.
Lisa’s attention is yanked back to the present. The passenger door on the truck ahead is opening and the vehicle swerves, then slows, before it pulls over to the side of the road. George Shirk jumps from the truck, falls down, and gets up.
“What the hell?” Chiznik’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror. “Sorry,” he mumbles in Janet’s general direction. He brings the huge white rig to a stop in the middle of the road and hits the ground running.
“What is happening?” Janet asks nervously, leaning over Lisa’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of what’s going on. “Why is George acting in this crazy way?”
“Just sit tight,” Lisa orders. “And I’ll find out.”
By the time she joins the small group, the Mennonite boy is pointing urgently into the deep drainage ditch running along side of the road. “You do not understand - it is important that I am rescuing this animal!” George shouts.
“Are you kidding me!” Holden yells. “You coulda broken your neck with that stunt - all for a God damn pig!”
“What’s going on?” Lisa asks.
“George has decided he wants a pet,” Holden says irritably.
“Pigs are not pets,” George proclaims disdainfully. “If this shoat is a male, I will be taking him back to the St Clair farm where already there is a female. We will have the makings of a fine herd.”
“What the hell is a shoat?” Chiznik interrupts.
Holden peers into the drainage ditch. “I’m guessin’ it’s a baby pig - and the little sucker is trapped down there.” He heaves a sigh. “Let’s pull the damn thing out of the mud so we can get back on the road. I think we’re only a couple hours out from Hamlin.”
LISA IS SURE SHE’S caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye - but only for an instant. She keeps her gaze focused on a spot just above the tree line. There! She sees it again. A whitish, cylindrical object.
“What is that?” she asks, pointing.
Chiznik hunches forward over the steering wheel and squints. “I see it, too. I think - yup! It’s a water tower.”
As they come closer, the thing takes on the appearance of a gigantic rusted bucket.
“Something’s painted on the side,” Lisa says. “H-A-M-” She stops spelling it out. “We’re here! It’s Hamlin!”
The brake lights wink on the truck ahead as it pulls over to the side of the pot-holed road. Holden jumps down and heads toward them. Lisa watches the way he moves with a critical eye - he’s not limping exactly, but she can tell he’s favoring that leg.
There’s a tapping near the side of her head and Lisa quickly opens the window. “Why are we stopping?” Lisa asks. “We’re finally here.”
“It’s not smart to wander into a place before you check it out,” Holden tells her, trying to ignore his aching leg. He looks past her. “Joe, I need you to guard The Whale and its passengers. The rest of us are gonna sweep Hamlin.”
Lisa checks her watch again as she paces back and forth along the length of the mobile lab. Almost an hour has gone by before a lone figure - which Lisa instantly recognizes as Holden - emerges from the cluster of small houses on the edge of Hamlin. It seems like another forever before he reaches them.
After a few quiet words with Chiznik, he motions to Lisa. “Town’s cleared - and we found a place with a big parking area in back for The Whale.”
“What about the St Clair farm?” Lisa asks impatiently. “Our mission is to make contact with the senior survivor.”
Holden sighs. That laser-like focus must serve her well in a laboratory, but it makes her blind to everything else.
“Not until we set up a base of operations,” he says as he climbs behind the wheel. “And we’ve got to approach this situation with some finesse, okay? You can’t just march in and demand someone’s DNA.”
“Of course not,” she says with a straight face. “I thought I’d say hi first.”
“There you go,” Holden grins. “Now you’re getting the idea.”
A low level anxiety grips Lisa as they enter Hamlin. On either side of the town’s main street are sad, dead buildings. In the window of one store, a faded picture of a pizza still hangs by a corner. She remembers cramming for exams while eating cold pizza without even tasting it. What she wouldn’t give now for one with pepperoni and mushrooms - but there’s no one left to make it - at least in this town. Lisa loses her appetite when she thinks about the daily statistics of the Geezer death toll - which hadn’t included the collateral deaths caused by the chaos left in its wake. The statistics guys couldn’t do the math fast enough - those of them who were still alive.
Holden makes a wide turn down a side street and stops. Directly ahead the pavement ends in a cul-de-sac in front of a one-story, yellow brick building.
“An elementary school?” Lisa’s heart sinks. No beds here - no place to lay her head, except maybe on a school desk. Back to roughing it.
“No Hiltons in Hamlin,” Holden says wryly. “I gotta maneuver this monster up that access drive along side the building. Why don’t you go on in and check it out?”
“Come on, Janet,” she says. “Let’s see where we’re going to be sleeping tonight.”
Marcelli is at their side immediately. “I’ll come with you.”
Lisa is hit with the smell of paste and damp paper - and maybe a hint of chalk dust when they step inside. Even though the sun is shining, the hall is chilly and dark. She peers into one deserted classroom after another. What could be sadder than a school without kids? As if silently agreeing with her, the hall is lined with bulletin boards of yellowed crayon drawings made by absent children.
The sound of footsteps behind them only adds to the slightly spooky quality of the place. But it’s only Holden, who apparently has already gotten The Whale safely docked somewhere out back. How did he get the CDC lab up that narrow drive so quickly? It’s the size of a mobile home.
“So what do you think?” he asks Lisa.
She says the first thing that comes to mind. “It’s spacious - and weatherproof.”
Sometimes Holden can’t tell whether she’s serious or trying to be funny. Now is one of those times. He decides to press on with the tour.
He gestures toward double doors, metal mesh between the double panes of glass in their small windows. “Cafeteria and assembly hall. The guys can bed down in there.”
“And Janet and me?” Lisa asks. She’s tired from being on the road again and roughing it. The idea of a bedroll on a terrazzo floor makes her shudder.
“There’s a teachers’ lounge next door with a couple of couches,” Holden says. “It should do the trick.”
“Jesus!” McAllister complains, appearing out of the gloom. “It smells like the ghosts of kindergarteners in here.”
“That’s a disturbing image,” Holden says before Lisa can comment. “Might be better for morale if you keep that kind of colorful observation to yourself.”
McAllister looks crestfallen. “Sorry, ladies,” he says to Lisa and Janet. “I’m an idiot - ask anybody.” He turns quickly back to Holden. “Do you want to unload the trucks, or what?”
“Just food and bedrolls for now. How long we’ll be here is unclear at the moment.”
“What does that mean?
” Lisa asks. No way is she leaving this place until she learns all there is to know about it - and the people who live here.
“It means our friend George is suddenly refusing to take us out to the St Clair farm,” Holden explains. “Says he wants to talk to them first.”
Lisa is furious. “Where is that little snot? Does he think he can trick us into bringing him all this way and then go back on the deal?”
“Cool down,” Holden says, trying not to think about how great she looks when she’s really animated about something. “It’s just dawned on him that he’s led the military to the St Clair woman’s door.”
“I want to talk to him,” Lisa insists.
“I’ve got him under guard out back - just in case he decides to wander off now that he’s in home territory.”
Janet suddenly speaks up. “You all must know George would not lie,” she says in her husky voice. “I do not believe he could lie, even if he was trying.”
Lisa catches a glimpse of Marcelli, looking woebegone at Janet’s defense of George. Uh-oh, Lisa thinks. She should have seen this coming. But she can’t think about that now. There’s a more important problem that needs solving.
When Lisa confronts him, George is surprisingly stubborn in his refusal. “It is not a good idea. If they are seeing an Army truck come up the drive, they will—”
“Shoot first and ask questions later?” Holden suggests.
“I - I do not think they would be going so far,” George stutters. “But they are very serious about protecting our home.” He looks concerned. Almost afraid.
George ducks behind a truck and reappears with the baby pig draped over his shoulder - like the Hunchback of Hamlin, Lisa thinks, and struggles not to smile. There’s nothing funny about this situation, she reminds herself.
The Mennonite squares his narrow shoulders. “I am needing to leave soon before they find out someone is in Hamlin. It will be much better if I tell them who you are.”
Holden glances at Lisa before saying, “Okay.”
“I am going cross lots,” George says. “So do not even try to be following me.” He turns and walks away, his long legs covering ground quickly.
Lisa tugs on Holden’s sleeve. “Wait - are you just going to let him leave?”
“They sound a little edgy,” Holden tells her. “We don’t want this situation to turn into a confrontation. If that happens, you don’t have a snowball’s chance of getting what you came for.”
Lisa massages a spot above the bridge of her nose. Her head is suddenly throbbing. “What if he doesn’t come back? Then what?”
He grins. “Don’t worry. We’ve got it covered. Baxter can track anything with feet.”
THE NEXT MORNING, LISA splashes cold water on her face, determined to finish washing up and get back to the school cafeteria and the company of others. The girls’ lavatory has the same silent, eerie quality as the rest of the building. Maybe it’s just the image of ghostly children McAllister planted in her mind yesterday, but she doesn’t like the closed cubicles between her and the exit. They feel ominous, like the closet door of her childhood bedroom - where monsters waited until the lights went out.
“Hey - you in there, doc?” Holden’s voice bounces off the tiled walls and floor.
She glances up, but she can’t see him - which means he can’t see her, either. “I’m almost done,” she calls. “What’s so urgent it can’t wait a few minutes?”
“Thought you’d want to know ASAP - we’ve got company.”
Holden is leaning against a wall when Lisa hurries out of the restroom, still buttoning her shirt. It’s a little harder every day, trying not to think about what’s beneath her fatigues. Torture, in fact.
“It’s the St Clair people,” he says a little more brusquely than he intended. He pushes himself away from the wall and stands almost at attention. “Not what I expected after Shirk wound us up yesterday. Only one guy with George - but he’s got the creds.”
“Have you spoken with them yet?” she asks, making an effort to sound businesslike. The growing attraction she feels for Holden has the unfortunate effect of making her feel stiff and inarticulate, especially when there’s no one else around she can talk to instead - and the way he’s focused on her isn’t helping.
“Not much - I stuck them in the principal’s office. When you go in, be sure you sit behind the desk - and try to look intimidating.”
“You do intimidating so much better than me,” Lisa says. “Why am I the one dealing with this guy?”
Holden smiles. “Because he’ll underestimate you.”
When she steps into the bare, utilitarian office, the first person she sees is George sitting stiffly upright, his back to the door. He turns his head slowly to face her - and his expression suggests he hasn’t enjoyed his homecoming very much.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” a voice drawls in an accent from somewhere further south than Ohio. “A lady doctor.”
The speaker sits atop the long metal cabinet that conceals the electric heaters running beneath a row of windows. He swings his leg like a bored kid.
“It’s the twenty-first century,” Lisa says coldly. “Amazingly, women can be anything they want to be.” She feels Holden poke her between the shoulder blades - a reminder that he wants this guy acting like a chauvinistic jerk so he’ll let down his guard a little.
Lisa studies their visitor with interest. He’s not quite as young as his attitude suggests. The angular bone structure of his face might be described as interesting - but never good-looking. Then he grins at her, and his face is transformed into something altogether more attractive.
“Had ya goin’ there for a second, didn’t I?” He hops down from his perch effortlessly and walks toward Lisa.
This is a man with absolute confidence in his physical abilities, she thinks. He’s had some sort of military training - that must be what Holden meant.
“Howdy, ma’am,” he says, sticking out his hand. “I’m Cash Hatfield.”
A subtle emphasis on the first word suggests to Lisa that this man is trying to provoke every northerner’s knee jerk reaction to a Dixie accent. She resolves not to underestimate him.
“And I am Dr. Lisa Terrell,” she says, emphasizing her own Back Bay Boston accent before shaking his hand.
She remembers Holden’s advice and positions herself behind the old metal desk. “Have a seat,” she says, gesturing to the only other unoccupied chair in the room, which is next to George.
She glances surreptitiously at Holden. He’s already leaning against the wall next to the door, looking bored. That’s why he really suggested I sit at this desk, she thinks. Our visitor is facing me, while Holden is behind him, watching his every move. Why couldn’t he have just told me that?
But when she returns her attention to Hatfield, he seems amused. “You comfortable back there, corporal?” he calls over his shoulder.
“Don’t mind me,” Holden yawns. “I learned to snooze standing up a long time ago.”
Hatfield sits forward and fastens his green eyes on Lisa. “I got to ask ya, doc - because George don’t seem to know the answer. Why did ya’ll cart him from Pennsylvania to Ohio?”
That takes Lisa by surprise - as he guessed it would - but she manages to keep her face blandly pleasant. “Did George tell you how we saved both him and his fiancee, Janet, from being kidnapped?”
“He did - and he didn’t,” Hatfield says maddeningly. “There was some violence, I reckon?”
Lisa just nods. She’s not going to make it easy for this man to manipulate her into giving him any information at all.
“George goes into a tailspin when he gets around man’s inhumanity to man,” their guest continues. “That’s why he left Ohio for Lancaster in the first place.”
“No shit,” Holden says from the doorway. “What happened?”
“Let’s just say a real bad guy showed up at the farm, and we had to take care of the situation.” Hatfield flaps his hand as if brushing away a mosquito.
“Not important right now.” He slaps his knees and stands up. “Well, why-ever y’all done it, we’re grateful. If you’ll tell Janet we’re here, the three of us will be out of your hair in a couple a ticks.”
He puts his hand on George’s shoulder. “C’mon, buddy. Time to go home.”
“Wait,” Lisa blurts. “There’s something I need to discuss with you before you leave.”
“You mean about usin’ my wife as a science experiment?”
His wife! He’s married to Miss St Clair, the senior survivor? Over Hatfield’s shoulder she catches sight of Holden’s almost subliminal shake of the head - don’t offend this guy.
Lisa covers her startled reaction by snapping, “I’m not a mad scientist, Mr. Hatfield. I’m a virologist looking for a cure for the deadliest virus in history. Won’t she at least hear what I have to say?”
“It ain’t gonna happen,” Hatfield drawls. “Now, can you fetch Janet for us?”
“I will go and find her,” George announces.
Their assumption that Janet is like a suitcase George left behind and now wants to retrieve makes Lisa’s blood boil. “You will do no such thing!” she flares. “You can’t seriously believe that Janet wants to go anywhere with you!”
“I do not know what you are talking about, Frau Doktor,” Shirk answers stiffly. “She is my betrothed, and she will go where I go.”
“Well, now,” Hatfield drawls. “That there is straight outa the Old Testament, George. But ain’t you forgettin’ Ruth made a choice when she said those words to her Israelite mother-in-law Naomi?”
Oh God, Lisa thinks, are these people all religious zealots? Is that why the St Clair woman won’t help?
But apparently Holden reads it differently. “Hold on a sec,” he says to nobody in particular. “I’ll get Janet - let her speak for herself.”
He’s back in a couple of minutes, with the nervous girl right behind him.
“Janet Martin,” George says sternly. “They are saying you do not wish to—”
“You had your say, bud. Now it’s Janet’s turn.” Hatfield smiles at Janet, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “We ain’t actually been introduced,” he says. “I’m Cash Hatfield from out at St Clair farm.”
