“Well, that’s nice,” Bishop said, avoiding the cliché: ‘if they jumped off a bridge, would you jump, too?’ line. “Let me think about it a minute.”
The kids went back to work, and Bishop returned to his office. He stood in front of the wide window and looked out into the street. Their home was one of the larger ones in the Huntington Hills neighborhood, made affordable because of Kim’s increased salary and a surge in Bishop’s book sales over the past three years.
It was a nice, quiet suburban neighborhood with all the modern amenities. The only thing Kim hadn’t liked about it was the proximity of the neighbors. Having grown up in rural Kentucky, where the closest neighbors were a mile in any direction, Kim thought Huntington Hills was way too crowded.
Bishop mulled over the idea of going to the FEMA camp.
They were making substantial progress on sealing up the house, though he couldn’t help but feel like they were missing out on being down at the stadium. The military people might let them call Kim, and that alone would be worth packing up the kids and going down.
Would FEMA keep them safe? Was there even enough food and water and protective gear? He imagined thousands of people in the Fort Collins area rushing toward the college, causing jam ups and traffic problems.
Maybe they could park some distance from the stadium and hike the rest of the way.
Bishop cursed under his breath and rested his hands on either side of his keyboard. Writing had afforded him the ability to study and learn many things, and he’d become a smarter man because of it. Despite that, he would have loved to get his wife’s advice.
Chapter 32
Randy and Jenny Tucker, Center Township, Indiana
“We should leave the generator on,” Randy said. “Just to keep the air filtration going.”
“Good idea,” Jenny said as she walked out to their truck carrying a small grocery bag full of food. “And we should get an extra vehicle while we’re in town today.”
“Should we ask the Sheriff first?” Randy said, getting in on the driver’s side and starting up the vehicle. The truck rumbled to life, old reliable.
After the power had gone out the night before, Randy went outside and kicked on the generator. His father had always taken great care of the machine, and Randy was grateful for it. Going outside had required another hour of decontaminating himself, but it had been worth it.
They’d sealed the upstairs air returns, started up the air conditioning unit, and slept like rocks in the cool, clean basement air.
“I don’t think the Sheriff will mind,” Jenny said from the passenger side. “Just tell him you commandeered it for official use. Who will argue with you?”
“We might as well have a few different vehicles,” Randy agreed. “Especially if we’re going to run errands for everyone.”
Jenny gave him with a wry smile. She was in much better spirits, although her eyes still had a haunted look he wasn’t sure would ever go away. He probably had the same expression in his own eyes and didn’t even know it.
“I want to stop by Ally’s first,” Jenny said, “and drop off some food and supplies for her.”
“We can do that,” Randy said, pulling out of their driveway. “I hope she’s doing better.”
“Me, too.” Jenny glanced at her brother through her clean visor. “Do you think people might recover from BD? I mean, now that the worst of it is over.”
“That guy who attacked us yesterday didn’t look like he would recover,” Randy said with a pensive expression.
“Well, maybe if he took it easier, he’d recover.”
“I don’t disagree,” Randy said. “This isn’t the common flu, and I don’t think a couple days of rest will help. I hate to sound negative, but I think the worst is just beginning. And I’m ready for it.” Randy patted the bulge inside his Tyvek pocket. It was his father’s Ruger .357 revolver. It had a medium-length barrel and a seven-round capacity.
Jenny glanced down at the revolver. The sight of the weapon didn’t bother her. They were gun people, and the twins had learned how to fire weapons safely at an early age, though Randy had shown more of an interest than his sister. Still, Jenny frowned. “How much worse can it get? It’s already wiped out almost everyone.”
“It could wipe us out. Let’s just hope Ally is okay and go from there.”
Randy pulled their truck onto Ally’s road and drove the last quarter of a mile to her place. He dreaded telling Ally about her parents, though the truth was the truth, and they weren’t going to lie.
He pulled the truck into Ally’s driveway, noticing that the fungal advancement had slowed, and it didn’t burst so aggressively when disturbed. Maybe Jenny was right, and the worst was over. Maybe BD would just die out, and whoever was left could rebuild.
The future was uncertain, and the past was dead. There would be no high school, no high school dances, or Friday night football games. There would be no more Sundays binging television shows and eating pizza. He’d never have his first legal beer at the bar with his father. There wouldn’t be a Super Bowl or NCAA tournament. Randy could hardly wrap his brain around it. It was all gone. They would have to start from scratch.
“Earth to brother,” Jenny said as she waved her gloved hand in front of his face. “Come in, little brother.”
“Sorry,” Randy said. He shut the truck off and popped his door open. “I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Sure, I do.”
Randy only shook his head as they walked across the yard, stepped onto Ally’s porch, and knocked on her door. At first, there was no response, so Jenny knocked again. Just when Randy thought the worst, the front door came open, and Ally looked out at them through the door crack.
The young woman was wearing her air filtration mask, though the face behind the visor seemed pale and sickly, and there were speckles of pinkish phlegm around the bottom of the mask. Her cheeks were sunken, and tiny black particulates swam in the whites of her eyes.
“Hey, Ally,” Jenny said with exaggerated enthusiasm. Ally winced away from the light and noise, so Jenny toned it down. “How’s it going in there? We brought you some food and medicine.” Jenny held up the grocery bag. “We couldn’t find any doctors at the clinic, and most of the medicine at the CVS was locked in some machine. So, we took some cold and flu stuff off the shelf.”
“Thanks,” Ally said. Her voice seemed tiny and rough as sandpaper. The young woman cleared her throat and tried again, opening the door a little wider to reveal a head of tangled hair. “Thanks. I was starting to think you guys weren’t coming back.”
“No way.” Jenny waved off the suggestion. “We got busy helping Sheriff Stans yesterday.
“I did that list you texted me, Jen,” Ally said in a tired voice. It was evident to Randy the girl wasn’t in good shape. “I sealed up the vents and stayed inside. I tried to bleach the bathroom and turn it into a clean room, but I got tired and fell asleep.” She reached up and tried to rub her eyes and then realized she had the air filtration mask on. “I kept this on most of the time, but I don’t think it’s working.
“Anything you can do to keep from breathing more spores is super helpful,” Jenny said.
“Right, I appreciate that.” Ally perked up. “You guys want to come in?”
Jenny exchanged a look with her brother. “Um, I don’t think—”
“Sure, Ally,” Randy said. “We can come in.”
“Great.” Ally held open the door for them, and the twins stepped inside.
Like the Tucker’s home, Ally’s was simple and functional, although her parents displayed more of their religious beliefs. There was a picture of Jesus over the living room table, and a shelf held a small statue of the Virgin Mary.
Ally led them into the unlit living room with the blinds shut tight against the afternoon sun. She walked over to a big, comfortable couch, picked up a pile of blankets and pillows, and tossed them into a chair. I
t was clear to Randy that the young woman had been sleeping there, and fungus grew on the couch arm, stretching down to the floor.
Ally gestured at the couch. “Have a seat. With those suits on, I don’t guess you can get infected.”
The twins sat down as Ally perched on the end of the recliner. Randy stared at the white noise on the television screen, surprised Ally still had power. The faint hum of static lingered on the edge of his hearing.
“Yeah, the cable TV went out last night,” Ally explained. “I’m about to re-watch Game of Thrones though. I’ve got all the seasons on DVD, but I usually stop after the seventh one. Hey, you guys want to stay and watch with me?”
While Randy didn’t keep up with his sister’s friends, he knew Ally the best. She was a vivacious young woman—outgoing and cheerful. To see her so sick tore at Randy’s heart.
“I don’t think we can stay,” Jenny replied. “Sheriff Stans has some things planned for us today. He’s been guarding the jail with a skeleton crew, so we’ve been helping to get them some supplies. He said the inmates are tough to handle.
“Oh, that’s okay.” Ally put her hand to her visor, coughing and adding to the mucus already smeared inside her mask. “I hope they can keep things under control, and I’m sure they appreciate you guys.”
The three sat in awkward silence for almost a full minute, and Ally’s eyes slid to the television where she stared at the white noise like a woman in a trance. Jenny and Randy exchanged an uncomfortable glance before Randy decided to get to the point.
“Actually, Ally.” Randy shifted in his seat. “We’ve got some news about your mom and dad.”
“Oh, really?” Ally said. One eyebrow raised, though she continued staring at the television screen. “Are they helping the Sheriff, too?”
Randy paused as his insides turned queasy. He’d never had to break such unpleasant news to someone before, though he understood from experience what it would mean for her.
“We found your mom and dad inside the church,” Jenny started, “with a lot of other people.”
“They were having a service.” Randy added. “They didn’t make it. No one in the church did.”
“But they looked like they were at peace,” Jenny quickly added.
Ally’s face transformed from calm passivity to agony. She reached up and pulled her mask off her face, dropping it onto the recliner. “I knew it.” Her words came out in a croak, her mouth twisting into a grimace. “I knew they didn’t make it, but I wouldn’t let myself believe it.”
Ally fell forward off the chair, and Jenny leapt off the couch and caught her. She wrapped her arms around Ally and squeezed her, and Ally clung to Jenny like a child.
“We know how you feel, Ally.” Jenny patted and embraced the young woman. “Really, we do. We found our mom and dad out in the field. I’m sorry. I’m so, so—”
Ally wailed loud, the sound resonating off the walls.
Randy winced as tears welled up in his eyes, and a savage rage surged through his blood. He wanted to punch something, kick something, or shoot something. Someone had caused the fungus, probably the people at Durant-Monroe Chemicals.
If Randy found out who was responsible, he’d give up his mask for five minutes alone in a room with them. Then he’d avenge everyone who had suffered and died at their hands. But like so many unfair outcomes, the responsible parties often hid in the shadows, remaining nameless and faceless.
As far as Randy knew, the people responsible for BD were dead already. So, he’d have to direct his hatred somewhere else.
Ten minutes later, the twins walked back to the truck. They turned and waved at Ally who waved back before shutting the door. They’d promised her they’d be back as soon as they finished helping Sheriff Stans at the jail.
“That was rough.” Randy shook his head.
“She’ll be fine.” Jenny looked over at Randy. “She just needed a shoulder to lean on and someone to put her faith into.”
“And it looks like we’re it.” Randy pulled open the driver’s side door and climbed into the truck. “For Sheriff Stans, for Ally...for everyone.”
“I’d rather be out here helping people,” Jenny said, climbing into the truck. “You won’t catch me sitting inside the house all day, sulking.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad we helped her. I’m glad we can help anyone who needs it.”
“So, you do have a heart after all,” Jenny teased.
“I’m all about taking care of us,” Randy said with a grim smile. “But we can’t walk away from friends.”
Chapter 33
Randy and Jenny Tucker, Kentland, Indiana
Randy drove the truck up to the jail, eyes always on the lookout for trouble. The fires in the north part of town still smoldered, sending trails of smoke up into the blue sky. Randy was just glad the fires hadn’t spread.
There was no one outside the jail’s garden entrance, though fungus covered almost every plant. Where the fungus didn’t touch, the plants looked withered and drained. The Sheriff’s car, a police van, and four other police cars were parked along the side of the building.
“Do things look okay to you?” Jenny asked.
Randy shrugged. “Yeah, but who knows? Let’s check it out.” He pulled the truck into the parking lot, cruising in a circle before he pulled to a stop and parked the vehicle with the nose facing the road.
“Okay, let’s go.”
The twins got out of the truck and met at the front bumper. Randy couldn’t see anything through the front glass of the building, though the quietness caused the hairs on his arms to stand up.
“I don’t see any of the Sheriff’s guys,” Randy said.
“Or the Sheriff.”
With a sigh, Randy approached the door and peered into a short waiting room with a few chairs. Across the waiting room was a window with an intercom set into the glass.
“I’ve never been inside before,” he said.
“That’s a testament to your good upbringing,” Jenny replied.
Randy scoffed. “And a little luck.”
He reached out, grabbed the door handle, and tugged it open. Loud shouts and abrasive language echoed distantly, and an oppressive heat washed over them, muted by their breathable coveralls. Randy led his sister over to the service window and looked down upon Sheriff Stans with his head down on the desk. Raising his knuckles to the glass, Randy gave a gentle knock.
The Sheriff jerked awake, eyes darting back and forth behind the visor of his mask. The mask was skewed sideways on his face, and Randy suspected it wasn’t firmly affixed for some time.
“Hey, Sheriff,” Randy said with a respectful nod. “Sorry to wake you.”
“Oh, not at all,” the sheriff said. He readjusted his mask on his face. “I’m the one who’s sorry for sleeping on duty.”
“We’re all tired,” Randy said. “We just swung by to see if you needed any help.”
“It should be about lunch time for the inmates,” the sheriff said with a glance at the clock. “Let’s go see if you can help Smith. Come around to the back.” The sheriff indicated a door off to the side.
Randy and Jenny opened it and stepped through into the jail offices. Sheriff Stans greeted them with a nod and a friendly, but tired, grin. “Let’s go back to the kitchen.”
“You’re still business as usual?” Randy asked.
“It’s important to keep these guys on a regular schedule,” the sheriff said. He stopped at a door and pressed his employee ID to a badge reader. The door clicked open, and Sheriff Stans stepped through and led them down a long hallway. “Any deviation from the norm could irritate the inmates and put my remaining officers at risk.”
They took a right at the end of the hall and entered a vast kitchen with a buffet line that faced a larger dining room. They stopped next to the stove and a massive pot of boiling corn.
“Are you going to bring the inmates through here?” Jenny asked, glancing into the dining room with a nervous look. “I’m not
sure I like the idea of standing on the other side of that buffet line from actual prisoners.”
“That would be too dangerous,” the sheriff replied, placing his gloved hands on his hips. “We’ve been taking their meals out to them. The prisoners haven’t been out of their cells since all of this started, and I don’t have the men to escort them or even let them out in groups.”
“What are you going to do with them?” Randy asked.
“We’ll keep them here until the governor gives us further directions. For now, orders are to stay the course. Status quo. I’ve been in contact with neighboring counties, and we’re all on the same page. I suspect they’ll have us relocate the prisoners to a military-protected FEMA camp.”
“Like the one in Indianapolis?” Jenny asked.
“Exactly,” Sheriff Stans agreed.
An officer came out of a walk-in cooler with an industrial-sized can of lima beans under each arm. He jumped when he saw the three of them, then he realized who it was.
“Sorry, Sheriff,” he said, voice muffled in his mask. He passed them and placed the lima beans down on a service table near the pot of boiling corn.
“Don’t worry about it, Smith. You know the Tucker twins, right?”
“Yeah, I do.” Officer Smith gave the twins a faint nod as he reached for the can opener. “You guys holding up okay?”
Randy knew Terry Smith from school. He’d been a senior when Randy was just a freshman. And while they’d not interacted much in those days, they’d still seen each other around town.
“We’re doing okay, all things considered,” Randy replied.
“Good.” Smith poured one can of lima beans in with the corn.
Sheriff Stans gestured. “These two are going to be your helpers today.”
Smith turned and gave them a thumbs up sign. “Oh, man. That’s great news. I’m running on fumes here.”
“Where do you want us to start?” Randy asked.
“I’m just winging it today,” Smith said with an awkward grin. “I’m not a cook.”
“No problem,” Jenny said.
Spore Series (Book 1): Spore Page 19
