“Ok, ok, but you aren’t going to get very far,” he shouted as he ran back towards her computer.
He put the laptop back in her bag and turned around.
“Leave it by the door,” she told him. He did, then turned back to face her.
“Now walk back in to the corridor I came from and shut the door behind you.”
“Sure thing,” he said with a smirk. Judy was fairly certain his hint of confidence stemmed from his misbelief that by going back down the hallway to the elevator where he would rescue his boss to come and apprehend her. She felt the briefest hesitation at possibly sending this man to his violent death, and then tightened her grip on the gun as she glared at him walking backwards towards the recondite door.
“Good luck hundan,” she replied in Mandarin, shutting the door behind him and locking it. Only then did she let the gun fall to her side.
With that she turned and ran, hoisting the backpack over her shoulders as she made it through the door.
There was no interference between the office and the front lobby. As she ran past the front desk she spotted Kim, the morning receptionist. The young and beautiful woman stood up, looking startled. Judy spun back around to face her after skidding to a halt.
Judy ran towards Kim and grabbed both her hands in hers.
“Kim, I know this sounds crazy, but you have to get out of here. Don’t bother with your stuff, just run,” Judy blurted out. Kim was pulling her arms back against her body.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, clearly frightened but a faint hint of repulsion adorned Kim’s face as well.
“Get out, Kim. Get out of here. There’s been a breach in biosecurity and if you don’t get out, you could get infected. Contact the authorities and explain there has been a major biosecurity accident.”
And with that simple statement she turned and ran. Judy could hear Kim yelling at her to stop, but she never looked back.
Chapter 7
Twenty minutes later Judy pulled to the side of another dirt road, still taking deep breaths as she tried to calm herself. As she stopped, tears started pouring from her eyes. All the walls and strength she had built up around herself to survive that morning had come tumbling down.
Trying to take some longer breaths to calm down, Judy checked the front pouch of her bag and found was relieved to fine her phone still there. Her phone read 7:51AM. Greg would be arriving any moment, and she had to redirect him away from the airport.
Taking another deep breath and closing her eyes, she repeated in her head: Fear won’t save me, only I will.
Recalling what Mr. Dickinson had said to her earlier about the airport she dialed her brother.
On the third ring he picked up.
“Sis, you know I shouldn’t be flying and talking on the phone. I am only ten minutes away so cool your jets.”
“Ge-ge, you must not land at the airport. Find another strip of land away from the public airstrip to pick me up,” she huffed out urgently.
“What? Are you kidding me? The airstrip is the only safe place to land, and I already began my descent!”
“This is a matter of life and death Ge-ge, you must not land at the airport. And I cannot go there. There are men looking for me, expecting me there.”
“Judy, this is getting a little ridiculous. Men are looking for you? Who?! You sound like a bloody fugitive, what did you do?” Gregory exclaimed.
“I will tell you everything shortly, but please, we must meet somewhere else. Can you find any place on your maps that could be used for an emergency landing?”
She waited as she could hear him typing and evaluating the specifics.
“There’s a large field next to one of the smaller villages twenty miles southwest of the airport. It’s about a half mile west of the top part of Solsona, just off the Dona Josefa National Highway. I could be there in twenty-five to thirty minutes,” he replied angrily.
“Wanshan! Thank you!” she shouted back. “I can be there in under an hour. Thank you Ge-ge, duo-xie. You don’t understand how important this is, but I will tell you soon. Thank you, I owe you my life.”
She could hear him rolling his eyes through the receiver as he answered, “See you shortly, but I might have to kill you when I do see you.”
“There are worse ways of dying.”
Part 2: Outbreak
“A woman is like a tea bag: you can’t tell how
strong she is until you put her in hot water.”
–Eleanor Roosevelt
Chapter 8
“Again? Another late night? But tonight’s our date night. We were gonna watch the latest Star Wars movie on Netflix. I don’t understand how your schedule has become more unpredictable than mine,” I said sarcastically. And regretted it instantly.
This is exactly what we argue about every time. I just opened another big can of worms I really didn’t want to. I closed my eyes and sank on to the couch, waiting for what was likely to be a hell of a reply.
“Well Diana, you were the one who took the job in Purdue. I never would have picked living in this middle of nowhere town, or anticipated this position would be so rough. And if I am going to get tenure in this shit-town I need to get better student reviews, which starts with being more available for study sessions. Of course, if you are having second thoughts, I could easily get a position with more flexible hours somewhere in the Northeast. Not to mention living in a more civilized area, and having a job with more prestige. Most people don’t even know what state Purdue is in, let alone what city.”
Biting my lip I tried to think of how I could remedy this, but honestly what I really wanted to do was just yell an explicit retort back at him and call it a night. In fact, all I could think over and over again was: You’re an asshole, Peter.
I felt something cold and wet on my hand and glanced down to see River gently licking my other hand. I pulled it away to dry it on the couch but then started scratching her behind her ear, trying to calm myself.
“I’m sorry Peter, you’re right,” I said, though didn’t really believe. I just wanted to stop talking to him and figured this was the quickest way about it. “Maybe this job will still work out for the best. You are getting more and more popular with the students. And you already brought some grant money in after only being here a month. I just think we should try a little harder to schedule some date nights together. It’s like we are always on opposite schedules.” And I’m a bigger asshole for caving just now.
Some of that was true. But some of it was a lie. In all honesty, I knew it was the politically correct thing to say in our relationship, which was tearing apart at the seams. I still kept thinking about how I wanted to scream a slew of swear words through the receiver, but I always seemed to default to being nice. Peter’s constant digs and comments about how I made him move here must have gotten to me, and I felt personally responsible for both of our success. Plus it was like every time I did dig up the nerve to say what I really thought, Peter would twist it around and make me think that I was the one who didn’t care about the relationship.
“I would be happy to do that on a usual Saturday or Sunday, you know, the days that most of the general population have off? In fact, Sam and Patty said they would love to have brunch with us this Sunday,” Pete replied with an extra dose of sarcasm.
Jerk. Jerk. Jerk. Jerk. Sure, I understand, most people have those days off, but the art of saving lives doesn’t come with the bloody daily planner you use.
“I’m on call, but maybe we should just schedule it and hope that nothing ends up needing my help that day, OK?” The best I could do being on call. I knew I probably should be more respectful of others’ schedules, but when you’re on call two weekends a month to save lives that need emergency surgery, it can be tough. It had come up as a crux in previous relationships too. To top it off, I was also the low man on the totem pole at work: I was the fourth surgeon in a group dominated by men, and my schedule was definitely influenced by that, reflecting their seniority.
; “Great, I’ll tell them we can meet at the Steak N’ Shake on Sunday at 11am,” Pete replied with about as much emotion as a Vulcan.
Great indeed. No freaking vegetarian options. Seriously asshole, we’ve been together how long and you still pick a steakhouse to bring your vegetarian girlfriend too?
“Sounds great, I’ll see you later tonight. I hope you get home soon.” Guess it wasn’t worth more of a bloody argument on my end.
Or not at all. In fact, right about now I wish I had invested in that twin bed for the guestroom as I’d rather sleep there than within twenty feet of you.
As I ended the call I plopped down on the couch. A heavy weight seemed to be piling up on the center of my chest. Were all relationships supposed to be this much work? Was this normal, or worth it even if it was?
River jumped up and landed on my lap, putting her paws on my chest just where it felt heaviest. I sighed, but smiled. This dog knew how to make me smile alright. I stretched out on the couch and River climbed up along side me.
“Will you be my boyfriend?” I asked River. She whined and rolled over, exposing her belly for the ever-important rubs that were to follow. I wouldn’t let her down.
“I wish everyone was as easy to please as you are. But seriously, what are we doing?” I asked her.
With a cock of her head to the right and a wag of her stub tail, River looked at me from upside down, causing her lips to expose her teeth in to an awkward and simultaneously adorable grin.
I think the dog just told me what are YOU doing, not what are WE doing…
I smiled as I looked down at this delightful dog that was the best family member and friend anyone could have asked for.
River first entered my life seven years earlier as a surrendered stray, a broken and homeless Jack Russell Terrier puppy that needed fixing. Those endearing and focused eyes stole my soul the first time I met her. The puppy had been found on the side of the road with a broken rear leg, assumed to be from vehicular trauma. I had resisted adopting broken or abandoned animals before, but River was another story. There was something special about that little dog. I had felt it many times before, but always with patients that had loving homes and didn’t need rescuing.
At the time I was still a surgical resident, so my mentors were happy for me to perform her fracture repair at no charge to get the experience. And everyone in the hospital was glad the little tyke had a home to boot. After her post-operative recovery, which thankfully was a quick six weeks, River started to reveal her intelligence. To keep her stimulated I entered the both of us in obedience clicker training. But River had always been a step ahead of me. I’d never had a dog before that knew as many tricks and behaviors as she did, in addition to knowing how to always be there for me. I swear she could understand what I was saying most of the time.
River squirmed in even closer between my arms, sensing I needed the closeness now more than ever.
How long had it been, three months? Wow, that was it. In just three months since taking the job here, my relationship with Peter had fallen apart. Sure, it had some issues before that, but now I struggled to think of one good thing about our situation.
It was so hard to remember those earlier days in the relationship now.
The past June, (aka three months ago), I, Diana Weisz, had been offered an amazing position as the new co-director of the trauma center at Purdue’s Veterinary School. I had become well known for my damage control skills in emergency surgery and was paired up opposite a critical care specialist to start a new state of the art trauma center for small animals. Although we were still well behind the level of our human medical doctor counterparts, veterinary medicine was taking huge strides towards closing the gap, especially in centers of academia like the veterinary schools.
Of course, I had only been dating Peter Tibbits for a year at the time, but I still made the mistake of asking him if he wanted to join me. I chuckled to myself as I thought about it. I guess I knew how I really felt about our relationship seeing as how I was calling it a mistake in my head.
A year seemed like a normal amount of time to consider one’s self in a long-term relationship, but I wish I had been more astute in to how things might really work out.
Peter had a PhD in political science and a special interest in domestic terrorism, and subsequently was the most suitable and intelligent man I had ever dated. In relationships before ours I had struggled when my knowledge base and interests far exceeded that of my male counterpart, and let’s face it, that can be intimidating and unattractive to many men. But with Peter’s acumen and advanced degree, also came overwhelming confidence in his opinions (and I’m not quite sure which was the chicken or the egg in their development). Peter was the most dogmatic man I had ever dated. Those traits could be attractive at times, particularly in the early stages of our courtship. Our dates at the coffee shop initially involved political conversations of various societal norms that would last hours. They were quite stimulating. We were also both anti-war activists, which was where we had first met: at a demonstration protesting the latest shipment of troops to the Middle East. The United States had finally found its way out of Iraq, but now the US government had completely taken over the Afghanistan government and was waging a war with Yemen. Being more wise and astute now, I realized those same personality traits that made me believe we would sustain a more successful relationship had a dark side: he thought of himself as always morally right and superior, revealing the rectitudinous side of Peter.
We had also shared a love of bicycling. He had even surprised me with an amazing bike tour across the Florida Keys in our third month together. But since arriving in Indiana Peter’s bike had not left the back shed. He was all too wrapped up in his classwork to go hiking with River and I, and he shared no love for running like I did. Indubitably whenever I tried to broach this subject I was barraged with his critical assessment of how I should be more concerned with my looks and my lack of wearing makeup or form-fitting clothing.
Following our move from Florida and the quick transition to cohabitation, it’s like we no longer have anything in common. We only have time off together about once every two weeks, and one of us was always too tired to actually try to spend it together.
The weather was very different than the constant seventy degrees of Gainesville, which made it harder for either of us to stay motivated about outdoor activities. I, at least, have River to inspire me to spend more time being active outside on my days off, but Peter has no motivation.
It wasn’t just our different activity level that led to arguing. One of us always seems upset with the others’ behavior these days, whether it be that he felt I didn’t put the dishes away enough, or that I was always tripping on his shoes that he left in random spots around the house when I got home after hours. Plus he adamantly opposed the idea of dogs in bed, but that was a battle he would never win. I compromised by only letting River on my side of the bed. Topics that we had easily dismissed before, like that he considered many animal rights activists terrorists and part of his research interest, seemed so much more personal now. They continued to add to the rift between us. Yet I could only blame myself for some of it. It’s like if a right wing gun-toting racist decided to date a Bernie Bro cause they had other things in common and wanted to let the political stuff just stay on the wayside. Good luck with that.
What was the phrase, I thought. The honeymoon’s over? Ughh, I guess it’s a good thing we haven’t gotten married.
I squeezed my eyes shut and realized all this thinking about my horrible relationship was making me nauseous. River licked my chin again. The dog really knew how to comfort me.
“Enough wallowing around,” I said to myself. It was not my fault that things were going this way. I made an effort to make things better. In hindsight I wish I had been more cautious about us moving together, but I had never been one to be afraid of getting up and moving cross-country. My childhood with military parents had made me accustomed to moving every couple years
, and even after my parents had left me I found myself following in their footsteps, being somewhere new every three to five years.
I jerked upright. “OK, you’re right River, I just need to rip off the band aid. It’s not my fault he came out here, he is an adult. Besides, he’s done pretty well and is likely to get tenure before me. Or he can go back to the Northeast that he is always reminiscing about.”
I looked at River during my rant, hoping for consolation. I made a habit of saying lots of things out loud for her benefit when it was apparently more for mine. Though she couldn’t talk back, I knew River would support me whatever I decided. She always did.
“OK, let’s just see how things go this next month, and then he has Thanksgiving break. If things are still going poorly, well, the break would be the perfect time for one of us to move out and get situated somewhere else.”
River laid her head down on the couch and looked up at me with what could only be seen as an exhausted look. Rather than argue with River, I got up and headed to the kitchen.
“Come on girl, let’s go make that dinner we were planning on. We can still enjoy Star Wars together. And I promise to let you lick the plate.”
River’s butt wiggle told me that was the first idea she liked all night.
Time for a fun night. No more fear. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and you know the rest of the quote…
Chapter 9
Ripping my cap and mask off, I sank into my office chair with a huff. Glancing at the clock I shook my head. Six o’clock already? Ugh, missed the whole day again.
It was six pm on Sunday and I was finally sitting down. There was a sinking feeling in my chest as I pulled my phone out from my desk drawer. Part of me was relieved that I missed brunch, but some small part of me felt left out and lonely. Despite my absence that day, there were no text messages or voicemails on my phone. I guessed Peter was giving me the silent treatment.
Eves of the Outbreak Page 5
