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That Sunday, she spent the day with the news on while she prepped the week’s meals. She was making four chicken and rice fajita bowls, four bowls of spaghetti with garlic bread, six side salads, and three steak and broccoli bowls. She would have a good selection of somewhat healthy meals. She even made an extra one of each for Jared. He was always eating fast food, then complaining that she didn’t care about him when she brought in something homemade. She knew he would appreciate it.
When she had them all neatly stacked in the fridge and everything cleaned up, she went and sat on the couch to watch T.V. The dishwasher hummed and as it kicked on and she turned the volume up. She watched the news for a few moments, noticing that the illness —what they were now calling the Russian Flu— had finally spread to the United States.
Alaska, California, Oregon, Washington, and New York seemed to be affected. They were predicting it to spread rapidly on both coasts, then work its way in to the middle part of the country. There would probably be hotspots at some international airports too. They claimed most cases seemed to resolve within a few days, resulting in no more than a high fever and sometimes nausea. Nothing to really worry too much about. She had plenty of sick days saved up.
Anna didn’t know where those overseas reports of rotting limbs and excessive bleeding came from, but they seemed to be a hoax.
The top specialists in the country were saying this whole thing could be resolved within three or four weeks, with some sporadic cases afterward. They expected some measure of immunity afterward. She flipped the channel. She was sick of watching the Russian Flu coverage, and finally able to let her mind focus on something else. She chose a sitcom and dozed off on the couch, skipping her usual daily workout. Grocery shopping was exhausting enough.
◆◆◆
“You are the best co-worker in the history of all co-workers. In fact, I think I’ll frame your picture and put it up on the wall next to Madeline’s,” Jared said as she plopped down a broccoli steak bowl on his desk the next morning. “Can I eat it now?” he said, popping the corner of the lid.
The eagerness on his face was boyish and endearing, and she knew he was only kidding around. “It’s your lunch!” she said with mock exasperation and went to her workspace as he grinned at her. She heard him walk out toward the kitchen and assumed he was putting it in the fridge.
Madeline had been the employee of the month for five months running. Her picture was up on the wall under the Employee of the Month plaque. She had convinced Mr. Hubbard to use her glamor shot, and the effect was slightly disconcerting. Juan had usurped her place on the wall six months ago after he brought in homemade churros from his wife. They were Mr. Hubbard’s favorite. Everyone speculated about what Madeline had done to get back on the wall.
She sat down and was already pulling up her email when a message box pinged on the screen. She didn’t even know that the office had an instant messaging-type system. She had never seen this interface before. Jared finds the strangest things!
TO: Anna Collins
FROM: Jared Carson
RE: Awesome Lunch
Thanks.
P.S.- I ate a piece of steak and it was great.
P.P.S.-I think you bringing my lunch officially makes you my work-wife, or at least brings us up to first best friends’ status. Is this not so?
TO: Jared Carson
FROM: Anna Collins
RE: Work-spouse and/or Best Friend Status
So, should we hyphenate names? I think Jared Carson-Collins sounds fantastic.
P.S.- I brought lunch so you can buy me a drink later. I want a Coke with my name on it.
Anna smiled as she typed the last part. His memo was cute. They had the same sense of humor and she loved it. She switched back to her email inbox when one last message came through.
TO: Anna Collins
FROM: Jared Carson
RE: Recent Work-Related Nuptial Agreement with Anna Collins-Carson
Asssssss youuuuuu wiiiiiiiiiiiiish
P.S.- Do you get it? Because if you don’t this would be really weird and awkward.
She snorted in laughter and secret delight at his message, then quickly covered her mouth so he wouldn’t hear her through the partition. They had talked about movies a couple of weeks ago and she had mentioned that her favorite movie was The Princess Bride. He told her that he had never watched it, and she told him that he should. Apparently, he had. She felt a flutter in her chest and ignored it.
She was going to have to be careful not to mistake his friendship for something else. She loved their easy friendship and couldn’t imagine how awkward and cold the office would be if they messed it up.
She worked diligently through the morning, filing transactions, following up on accounts, and doing general office work. Madeline was particularly snotty to them all, demanding that the sales team attempt to exceed the week’s quota instead of merely meeting it. Even Mr. Hubbard knew the unlikeliness of exceeding quota.
She also demanded Anna and Jared take over some of her duties so that she could go to lunch early. Anna had no choice but to comply, taking the stack of uncollated account files to her desk to share with Jared. Madeline was sleeping with the boss. That got her out of a lot and gained her leeway on everything else. The positive side was that Madeline wouldn’t be in the office for two full hours, giving everyone a break from her harassment.
Darla was also still in a funk, as the office microwave still didn’t have a turntable. She had replenished her popcorn stash, but was dismayed to find that, without the turntable, the microwave produced truly inedible popcorn. So, while the office had to endure yet another wave of nauseating burnt popcorn smell, Darla amazingly found it too burnt to be palatable. It was a lose-lose situation.
Anna went around the thin cubicle wall to deliver his half of Madeline’s unfinished paperwork and caught him working on some sort of elaborate structure on his desktop.
“Shhh. I’ve almost got the cupola built,” he whispered without turning around.
“Jared…
“J-dog,” he insistently whispered.
She rolled her eyes. “J-dog…that’s an empty ibuprofen bottle,” she whispered back. “Actually, I think that’s my empty ibuprofen bottle, and it wasn’t empty this morning.”
“Check your desk,” he whispered in the same tone.
She leaned around the partition and saw a bag of pills on her desk. She scoffed. “Thanks, J-dog. But that is still a medicine bottle.”
“Wrong Mrs. Collins-Carson, that is a cupola.” She watched as he balanced it carefully on the empty cardboard, paper, and office supply edifice. It looked a little like Monticello.
“Is that Monticello?” she whispered.
“Mount Vernon, don’t you see the cupola?” he replied quietly, indicating the medication bottle.
“Monticello has a cupola too,” she pointed out.
“Monticello has an octagonal cupola, Buttercup. This one is round.” He finished balancing the empty bottle on the top and scooted chair back carefully before looking at her with pride. She smiled and shook her head. “How did you cut those holes in the ibuprofen bottle? They’re so precise.”
“I’ve got a blowtorch in my desk,” he says dismissively. She almost believed him.
The two-foot-high elaborate trash and office supply structure almost made her forget why she had come over here.
“Oh, I’ve brought more work from Madeline. We need to finish these by the end of the day.” She handed him a stack of folders and he raised an eyebrow at her.
“This is her job,” he pointed out.
“She wanted to take off an hour early for lunch, and I was told to split these with you.”
Jared only smiled and stood up. He took the folders from her and he went to her own desk and grabbed hers too. “Watch and learn, Buttercup.”
He filched a Sharpie from the cup on Juan’s desk and strode nonchalantly to the front wall. He looked around a bit, perfectly at ea
se, before quickly drawing a mustache on Madeline’s Employee of the Month photo. He winked at her before tossing the Sharpie back where it belonged.
She followed him to Madeline’s workspace, which also happened to be in one corner of Mr. Hubbard’s office. Anna didn’t feel right about coming in here when they were absent, but Jared strolled right in and none of the salespeople questioned him about it.
He squatted down by the large filing cabinet behind Madeline’s desk and pulled out his copied set of keys. He looked through them all until he found one that opened the file cabinet and unlocked the bottom first. The grimace and surprise on his face was almost comical, and he motioned for Anna to come closer and have a look.
“Oh my God! Is that…lube?” she asked. It was nestled among some things that had no business in an office filing cabinet. “And whiskey?”
“Apparently so. Let’s make a pact to bleach this incident from our brains forever after our little mission is complete.” He closed and relocked the dirty bottom drawer.
“Bingo,” he said, opening the next one up. He took the stack of manilla folders and placed them neatly among another stack, blending the two seamlessly.
“What’s that?” Anna asked him as he relocked it and stood up.
“That, my dear Mrs. Collins-Carson, is Madeline’s job. She is going to sort, update, and file her own damn paperwork. She may be screwing Mr. Hubbard, but I don’t think she would want her husband to find out about it. I happen to have his number on speed dial. If she asks, send her to me.” Jared touched her lightly on the lower back as they walked back to their desks.
“That’s blackmail!” Anna said, attempting to ignore the heat of his hand at her back.
“Yes, but she violated office ethics first,” he pointed out.
“True, but does that make it right?” Anna replied.
“All is fair in love and war,” he shrugged and walked to his desk. “I’m not sure who said that. Tolstoy maybe…or Johnny Depp,” he said frowning, “It sounds like something he’d say anyway.”
Anna just looked at him with an indulgent smile. “You’re crazy.”
He grinned back, “You like me anyway.”
“Pffft,” she said and went back to her desk.
She worked another thirty minutes, then looked up as Jared passed her desk with his briefcase and car keys in hand. He widened his eyes at her and smiled as he passed. She was confused. Did he forget that she brought his lunch today?
Her question was answered twenty minutes later as she went to the break room and sat down with her meal. She was alone for the moment, and she looked up at the T.V. as she unwrapped her fork from the paper towel, she kept it rolled in.
Things seemed to be getting back to normal. They kept full coverage of the Russian Flu, but they had started to allow other stories back into the headlines. The stock market was recovering a little, and the job market seemed to be looking up. There was a terrorist plot uncovered in Michigan. Thankfully, they caught them in time and captured the people responsible. Basically, it was everyday news. She was a little tired of it, to be honest. She almost wished they would turn it back to sports.
Almost.
“I see you started without me,” Jared said as he walked in, pulling off his sunglasses. “So rude,” he said, tsking and shaking his head in mock dismay.
“Sorry, I didn’t know when you were coming back.”
He set his sunglasses on the table and pulled his lunch from the fridge. He sat next to her so he could see the news as well.
“We don’t seem to have a reliable microwave, so you’ll have to eat it cold. Tomorrow, I’ll bring oven-safe containers and we can heat it up in the oven,” Anna said.
“It’s really good either way,” he said, plopping a piece of steak in his mouth. “Even the broccoli is good, and I don’t usually like broccoli. What sorcery is this?!”
Anna laughed. “I tossed the broccoli in olive oil and roasted it with some salt and pepper, that’s all.”
“Well, it’s great. Better than a restaurant, seriously.” He stopped after a couple of bites. “Oh, here. I forgot.” He leaned down under the table and pulled up a bottle of Coke for her. She smiles and read the label.
“Seriously, Jared?”
“What?” he said around a large mouthful of lunch.
“My name isn’t Anita,” she said, giving him her best WTF face.
“I marked out the extra letters,” he said, pointing his fork at the Coke bottle.
“Yeah, but you left Ana. That’s still not my name.”
“Nope, see that there?” he said, pointing to a squiggly line on label, it was shoved in between the ‘N’ and the marked out ‘I’. “That’s an ‘N’.” He looked satisfied with himself.
“Well, since you went through all the trouble, I guess I’ll allow it,” she said, taking another bite of her lunch. They chewed in silence a moment.
“Share?” she asked. He nodded and she went to get a plastic cup. She poured half into his cup.
“How long did it take to find it?” she asked.
“Oh, not long. I only had to go to three gas stations, the Dollar Store, and a Walmart. I basically held the coolers hostage until I found one. Pretty sure this one lady was about to fight me for it, but I took her out before she could land the first punch,” he said nonchalantly, crossing his hands behind his head.
Anna laughed at his absurdity. Nobody in her whole life had made her laugh as much as he did.
They ate, talking occasionally and watching the news. They went back to work at one. If they had stayed ten minutes longer, they would have seen the insignificant story, wedged in between a gang shooting in Chicago and a fraud scheme in L.A.
The first mainstream news report out of Russia detailed the aberrant behavior of one of the Russian Flu victims, and it was cut short by a car insurance commercial.
Chapter Four
A Strange Week
Anna woke Friday morning with a fever. She blearily called in sick after taking her temperature and almost panicking over the number. She could barely move, but she managed to make it to the bathroom where she peed and took some fever reducers. She wet a washcloth and went to the kitchen. She knew that once she laid back down, she wouldn’t want to get back up. She grabbed some Gatorade from the fridge and some bottles of water and took them back to bed. She turned on her favorite T.V. channel and promptly went back to sleep.
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The next time she woke it was dark. The clock on her bedside table read 1:42. She was bewildered and shaky. Chills wracked her body, but she was too hot to cover up. She forced herself to go to the bathroom, even though she wasn’t certain she could even stand. Her head felt fuzzy and detached from her body. Her mouth was a desert. She stumbled out after she was through, knocking over a basket of towels in the process. She couldn’t find it in herself to care.
In the kitchen, she found a bottle of green liquid flu medicine. She measured out a full dose, took it, and went back to her bed. An episode of I Love Lucy flickered in the dark room, and she stared at it uncomprehendingly until she fell into a deep, troubled sleep. She slept straight through Saturday.
◆◆◆
Anna cracked open an eye, and winced.
How much wine had she drunk?
She laid still until she remembered what the hell had happened, where she was, and why. It was an eerie sensation, waking after a long sleep and not knowing had happened in the meantime. There was a disconnect from the wider world, as if time had slowed for her only.
Everything was quiet. There were no sounds of traffic out her apartment window. The T.V. was black, having turned off sometime. Her clocks blinked 12:00 repeatedly. Her bedroom was stiflingly hot, and she threw back the covers, grimacing at the sweat soaked pajamas she wore. She also smelled…really, really bad. She looked at her nightstand and grabbed an unopened bottle of water, drinking the whole thing without stopping. Had the power gone off? She was so thirsty. She felt like she hadn’t had anythi
ng to drink in days.
Maybe she hadn’t.
She picked up her cell phone from the table and looked at the time and date. It was five a.m., Sunday morning. Her battery was almost dead.
And she had about five hundred messages, emails, and phone calls. She was too tired, too weak, and had too low of a battery to check them right now.
Her skin was slick with sweat and her hair felt like a hideous mess. Why wasn’t her A.C. kicking on? It was July in the South, which meant high heat and high humidity. A.C. was necessary.
She stood up carefully, still feeling a little wobbly and weak. She seemed to be fever free though, and her head was clear. She first went to the thermostat, noticing that the system was completely off. She flipped a light switch nearby and turned the central air system back on. Usually when the power went off the central air system would resume as soon as the power was restored. This time it hadn’t, and she wondered just how long the service had been interrupted.
She waited for it to kick on and was thankful when cool air started blowing from the overhead vents. She took a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge, making a mental note to carefully check the dairy products for spoilage before using them. She didn’t want to imagine the horror of pouring herself a bowl of cereal, only to take a bite and find the milk had turned.
She had been sick, so she probably should even be drinking milk or eating dairy anyway. At least, that’s what her mother always said.
She sat on the couch and flipped on the T.V. She was going to rest here for a while before cleaning herself up and changing the sheets. She felt better, but she was still tired. She had to cook her meals later this afternoon. She wanted to skip it, but she had already bought the ingredients. She couldn’t bear to waste the food or the money she had spent on it. It could wait though. Her phone messages could wait too.
The Salvation Plague | Book 1 |The Turning Page 3
