by Willow Rose
It took a while before anything happened on the other side of the door, and I was trying to peek in through a crack in the shutters when the door was opened. A young woman wearing a mask peeked out. Her green eyes lingered on me. She had a very light Eastern European accent when she spoke.
“Yes?”
“Is this OUTRAGED’s headquarters?”
The girl nodded cautiously, looking at me suspiciously. I showed her my badge. “I’m Detective Harry Hunter, Miami PD. I’m here to see Bobby Kay. He wrote to me and told me to meet him at this address.”
“Can I ask what it’s about?” she asked. “Bobby is keeping himself isolated and prefers not to see anyone due to the virus.”
“It’s about his sister,” I said. “Candice Smith.”
She didn’t budge and kept staring at me like I was the virus itself and had come knocking to kill them all.
A voice yelled behind her, “Let him in, Petra.”
Petra stepped aside, and I walked in, careful to remain at least six feet from her at all times. Inside, I was met by two other sets of eyes staring suspiciously back at me. I smiled behind the mask, then nodded in greeting. The walls were decorated with graffiti and posters for their demonstrations. On the back wall, someone had made a huge painting of a homeless man begging in the street, holding up a sign saying I don’t want coins. I want change.
On another wall, they had created a mural of children’s crying faces under a sign saying NO FUTURE.
“I’d shake your hand or fist bump you, but well… these days,” a guy said, coming closer but staying six feet from me, “you can’t even do that.”
“Bobby Kay?” I asked, recognizing him from the articles I had read about him online. Whether this was the same guy on the surveillance videos, the one following Reese, I was less certain. There were similarities, but the guy had worn a cap pulled down on his face, covering his eyes and the top part of his face. I also couldn’t tell if it was him I had fought the night before at my house.
“Guilty as charged,” he said.
I could tell he was smiling behind his mask due to the small lines shaping around his eyes. He was in his mid-twenties, about ten years younger than me. “What can I do for you? As you can tell, we’re closed for the time being. We’re not breaking any rules since we’re only four people in here, me, Petra, Jacob, and Jim.” The other three nodded at me, even though their eyes seemed suspicious of me being there. They seemed like the type who were always suspicious of the police and authority in general. “We’re never more than just us these days,” Bobby Kay continued. “We have canceled all meetings and demonstrations for now.”
“So, what are you doing here?” I asked. “Why aren’t you at home?”
“We’re planning for the future. As soon as this blows over, they’re going to need us more than ever. With all the people who are being laid off, inequality is going to be more visible than ever in society. People will be ready to rise up against their oppressors. We believe revolution is on the way, and we’ll help them rise. It’s time for the people to do the talking.”
I looked at the guy in front of me with an exhale. I couldn’t help but think about Al and the weapons on her dining room table.
“So, what can I help you with, Detective?” Bobby Kay said. “You wrote that it had to do with my sister?”
I nodded toward a chair. “Can I sit?”
“Be our guest,” Bobby Kay said.
We both sat.
“So, what about my sister?” he asked. He sounded concerned.
“She’s missing,” I said. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you to tell you about her.”
“I’m not that easy to find,” he said. “Lots of people would love to see me dead. I get threats every day, so I keep to myself and only come out when my presence is needed. So, what happened to my sister?”
“We don’t know yet. Apparently, there was a guy in the apartment across the street who saw her being attacked in her condo. He called us, and we went to talk to her, but she wasn’t there. There was no sign of forced entry, though, and we didn’t find any evidence that he was telling the truth. So, if you can shed any light on where she might be, if she could have left town or if you know where she is, then we’d be most grateful.”
“Well, I hardly think she could have left town since we’re all on lockdown, and it’s not easy to get in and out,” Bobby Kay said. “But I’m afraid that’s all I can help you with. My sister and I aren’t very close. We never talk. To be honest, we barely know one another anymore.”
“So, you wouldn’t know what happened to her?” I asked.
“I’m afraid not, Detective. But I have to say I am quite worried about her now. I hope she’s all right.”
I bit my lip, wondering about the surveillance footage of him tailing my sister. I decided I had to ask.
“There was one more thing.”
I found my sister’s picture on my phone, then turned it to show him.
“Do you know this woman?”
He stared at it, scrutinizing it. “I think I do. I’ve seen her face on TV. Isn’t she the one they said was the first one to get the virus, patient zero?”
I nodded. It was true. All the news stations had run the story of my sister, using an old photo of her. It made me so angry because now she’d be that person for the rest of her life—the face of the Florida Flu.
“Yes, that’s her,” I said. “Have you ever met her?”
He nodded. “As a matter of fact, I have. She works at the CVS where I get my medications. I have asthma, and that’s why I am terrified of getting this virus since it attacks the respiratory system. But, yes, she works there and, in the beginning, when I first saw her photo on TV, I was so scared that she had infected me. I had regular panic attacks at home and felt like I couldn’t breathe. But luckily, I didn’t get it from her. A lot of others did, though.”
“Can you tell me anything about her?” I asked, leaving the part about her being my sister out of the conversation.
“Why? Has she gotten herself in trouble since she got out of the hospital?”
I looked at him, then realized he had no way of knowing she had been discharged. It hadn’t been reported in any media outlets. Everything about this guy rubbed me the wrong way for some reason.
“No, no, not at all,” I said. “We’re just still contract tracing, and, in case you knew her, we’d have to isolate you.”
He gave me a look. “A tad too late, don’t you think? I mean, if she had infected me, then I’d be sick by now, don’t you think?”
“Just trying to be safe,” I said and got up. “Anyway, thank you for your time. I’ll show myself out.”
Chapter 28
Candice felt the drops of sweat as they sprang to her forehead. It was hot in the room where she was being kept. It seemed hotter than usual. She wondered for a second if her captor had left and turned off the AC to let her die in the heat. Candice knew that she was somewhere remote because she never heard sounds coming from outside the room. Not even the engine of a car or the rumbling of a train. There were no voices outside the door or footsteps to indicate there was human life around her. It was all so quiet.
Too quiet.
And time seemed to pass so slowly. She was tired of thinking, of wondering what her captor wanted with her. It couldn’t be rape because he’d have done it by now, and he had barely touched her all this time. But she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why else he’d kidnap her and keep her like this. Why not just kill her right away if that was the plan? And why had he attached the bomb to the door? Was it her guard? To make sure she didn’t try and get out? She came to the conclusion that was probably it. He feared she might get loose somehow, and then run away. But wouldn’t he have warned her, then? Told her don’t try to escape or you’ll be blown to smithereens?
She kept thinking about his voice. It was familiar somehow, but she hadn’t come up with where she had heard it. She had been on so many blind dates. It c
ould be any of them, she thought. But he had said something about her thinking about what she had done, and that stuck with her.
What had she done to deserve this treatment?
Candice felt thirst nagging at the back of her throat and wondered when he would be back…if he ever would. That was when she heard the first sound in days…a rattling behind the door and she held her breath.
Was it him? Was it someone else?
If so, then they wouldn’t know about the bomb and how to disable it. If they came in here, then they’d both be gone.
Oh, dear God, please, let it be him.
There were more jangling noises behind the door, and she heard it open slowly. She held her breath again, wondering if this was the moment it would all end for her, waiting for the massive blast.
But nothing came.
Everything was silent until she heard footsteps approaching, and someone knelt next to her. She could hear his breathing close to her face and started to breathe raggedly herself. Fingers moved behind her neck as the gag was removed. Then she felt the familiar feeling of a plastic bottle being pressed against her lips and water hitting her tongue. Then she drank. Greedily, she gulped down the water.
As the plastic bottle was removed, a piece of bread came against her lips, and she bit into it, taking huge bites that she could barely chew.
“Why are you keeping me here?” she asked between bites. She sounded like a broken record since she had asked him this repeatedly. Her blindfold was still lifted slightly at the bottom, and she could see his red sneakers.
“Please. Just let me go. Please,” she added. “What did I ever do to you? I never hurt you or anyone else.”
She felt him close to her face again. She could feel a beard or at least stubble as it scratched against her skin. Then he whispered:
“You thought you could play God, didn’t you? You created this virus, Candice. You’re to blame for all this.”
Chapter 29
“I think he was lying through his teeth.”
I looked down at Al. She was sitting in her chair at her computer. Reese was on the couch, taking a nap while I told Al everything about Candice and her disappearance. She was still exhausted from being hospitalized for a long time and needed rest. Her lungs had been damaged by this vicious virus, and the doctors hadn’t been able to tell her if it would ever get better—if she’d ever fully recuperate. It was tough when you knew so little about a virus and its effects.
Al nodded pensively. She clicked the mouse a few times, then showed me something. “I think you’re right. Look what I found. It took me literally one second.”
I stared at the pictures. They showed Candice standing with Bobby Kay on a boat. He was holding a huge fish he had just caught, and, in the caption, it said they were in Key West.
“I just found these on her Instagram account,” Al said. “They’re from last year about this same time.”
“Barely know each other, huh?” I asked as Al scrolled through other pictures and showed me all of them, arm in arm or heads close together, faces smiling, captions reading stuff like Having a brother is like having your very own superhero, or Like sugar and spice, a brother makes everything nice.
I shook my head in disbelief. “I knew he was lying to me when he said that. I could see it in his eyes. But why? Why would he try to hide his relationship with his sister?”
“Because he knows something he’s not telling you?” Al said.
I nodded. “Exactly.”
I exhaled and went for some iced tea in the fridge. Today, it was extremely hot outside and humid, too—typical Florida Spring.
Al was staring at her screen, her fingers tapping the keyboard while I enjoyed my cold drink. I looked at my sleeping sister, wondering whether she truly was healed from this awful virus or not. Then I thought with deep sadness about our dad, and how he was holding up at the house. What was I going to do if he got so bad that he couldn’t breathe? I had read about people who suffered so terribly they couldn’t even walk from the bed to the bathroom. There was nowhere I could take him if that happened. What if he needed to go to the hospital? Would I take him there and pray they’d take him? I had seen a news report about the thousands who were turned away just this past week because there was no room for them. They had put up huge tents in the parks closest to the hospitals, but that had just become another place for people to come and die. They had no ventilators for them. They were all being used for kids. There was a devastating interview with the daughter of an eighty-year-old woman, who cried and said she didn’t even get to say goodbye to her own mother. She died in that tent, all alone, surrounded only by others who were sick. I never wanted that to happen to my dad. I’d much rather have him die at home in my house.
Even though it was a risk for both Josie and me, I couldn’t just send him off to one of those places to die from this awful virus, all alone.
“You’re not going to believe it,” Al said and leaned back in her chair. She glared at me and took off her glasses for the first time since we got there. “I think we’re onto something here, Hunter. Something big.”
Chapter 30
I pulled up a chair and sat next to Al, yet maintaining distance, while she showed me what she had found.
“I did a little research on Candice Smith,” she said. “And this is what I found.”
She scrolled down and stopped, so I could see her picture properly, then pointed at the text below. “She is a molecular biologist and director of the lab of antiviral mechanisms at the US Army Research, USAMRIID, Institute on Infectious Diseases. USAMRIID has served as the Department of Defense's lead laboratory for medical biological defense research since the sixties. Among other things, they investigate disease outbreaks and threats to public health. Candice Smith has been involved in the development of vaccines to protect against biological threats like Anthrax and Ebola. She is pretty famous within those circles and rather criticized for a lot of her work. According to what I’ve read here, she unearthed the passageways for viruses to enter the human body. She successfully isolated three viruses from snakes that she experimented on in a lab, supposedly so we’d know more about a virus like it should we ever have a pandemic. All was done in the attempt to be able to create a vaccine quickly. But she didn’t stop there. Recently, she published a paper discussing the creation of a synthetic virus. Used on mice, it showed lung damage, and then when she moved on to subjecting it to primates, monkeys, it killed all the children within days and severely damaged the lungs of the adults, some of them who died later. This was when the world of virologists began to express deep concern. Other scientists wrote about her in scientific magazines, discussing her work in a heated debate. A French scientist wrote that if this new virus escaped, no one could project the damage it might do or what tragedies might follow. That was three years ago.”
Al turned to look at me, leaning back in her chair.
“It doesn’t take a genius detective to realize something fishy is going on here,” she added.
I stared at her, a million thoughts rushing through my mind, then looked at the screen. I knew that Candice was a biologist, but this was beyond anything I had been able to imagine.
“So, you think she created the virus?” I asked, rubbing my hair.
“Sure sounds like it,” Al said.
“And that’s why she’s missing?”
Al shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. She might have made herself disappear because it was her fault that it escaped the lab. She might have gone into hiding.”
“Except her boyfriend saw her being attacked in her apartment,” I said pensively. “And carried to a car, unconscious from what he could see.”
“Okay, so let’s assume she was kidnapped.”
“But why? Because of the virus she created?” I asked.
“Maybe the government realized they’re to blame for this, if it was created in an army research lab, and are trying to cover it up,” Al said. “Maybe they have removed her to mak
e sure she doesn’t tell the truth. Think of the repercussions that would follow if the world found out the US Army was behind this misery. Millions of people are out of work, people are going hungry, and the economy has completely crashed due to this worldwide lockdown. Not to mention all the people that have died, most of them children. It could get really ugly.”
I leaned back in the chair, feeling stirred up inside. So much about this felt so wrong. If Al was right, there probably wasn’t much I could do to find Candice. But what about my sister? What about Reese? Why was Candice’s brother trying to silence her? How did he know she was out of the hospital? And what was even more confusing was the question of her baby. Did she play a role in this mystery? And where the heck was she?
Chapter 31
When I was at home later that night, cooking dinner, my partner Propper called.
“Just checking in to see how you’re holding up,” he said. “I’m getting kind of bored around the house, going stir crazy, you know?”
I exhaled, holding the phone between my shoulder and ear while shaping the meatballs. I wanted to tell him that I wished that was my biggest problem right now, and not the fear for my dad’s and daughter’s lives, or my sister for that matter. If all I had to worry about was going stir crazy, that would be awesome. I had heard people complaining about this lockdown for so long, especially on social media, where they shared recipes and showed themselves drinking wine at ten in the morning. It rubbed me the wrong way when thinking about Jean, who was at the hospital for hours on end, fighting for the lives affected by this. Jean, who fought for others, risking her own life, barely having time even to eat. I exhaled deeply and looked toward her house next to mine. It was screamingly empty. Gosh, I missed her. I missed holding her in my arms so terribly and wondered if I would ever get to again.
