The Virus

by Janelle Diller

  My heart kept pounding away. I casually glanced around and tried to find the security cameras. I’d read that was an important part of the TSA surveillance process. If they spotted someone suspicious in line, it didn’t matter what the ticket said, the person got pulled out for extra security. I wondered if the camera could pick up the sweat on my forehead. The real test should be to shake hands with the TSA. At the moment, my damp palms would be a dead giveaway. I tried not to fidget.

  We inched forward. I caught a glimpse of Kai up ahead. I wondered if she was wishing for a restroom right now. She looked a little green. If the surveillance camera took color photos, she’d be pegged.

  I focused on my breathing and tried not to think about the odds of all ten of us getting through without a problem. Pete was now within five people of the first TSA agent. I stared at his back, willing him to stay calm, willing me to stay calm. I turned and caught Eddy’s eye. He smiled and winked. Would the cameras catch that?

  This felt like I was in one of those dreams where I tried to run but my legs wouldn’t move and tried to scream but couldn’t make a sound. Everything moved in molasses-slow motion.

  Now Pete was two people away from the TSA agent. I didn’t dare look at Eddy. Pete stepped up to the TSA agent and handed her his papers. I wondered if the edges shook. She studied the e-ticket, compared it to his driver’s license, compared that to his health card, swiped the health card, checked her screen against the driver’s license, and waved him on.

  I would have been in a puddle on the floor at that moment, but Pete was still standing. The line crept forward. Lisa’s documents checked out, then Phil’s, then Jola’s. Four down, six to go. I let myself relax slightly. Stepan was the genius he claimed to be, or Daniel had left amazing instructions. Or the fat lady hadn’t sung yet.

  I couldn’t see Pete in the maze until I had nearly reached the first TSA agent. He was taking off his shoes, watch, and belt. It could still fall apart here if the health card and the vaccination didn’t match. Worse, all but Eddy would be inside the maze. There would be no going back. I forced myself to breathe slowly. In, out. In, out.

  “Next.” The TSA agent actually smiled.

  I handed her my papers and my health card and smiled back. It took the concentration of every cell in my body not to shake. I’d be sore the next day from the tense muscles.

  She compared the e-ticket to my driver’s license and frowned. The floor moved slightly up and down, or maybe it was my knees. “I know. Milwaukee is the worst destination this time of year,” I said and smiled.

  “Well, actually, the name on the ticket isn’t the exact same name as on the driver’s license.”

  I said, “No?” Oh, Lordy. Had I given her the wrong driver’s license accidentally? I leaned over to look at the two. Stepan had spelled my name as “Stephanie Morghan” on my driver’s license, but the e-ticket had “Stephanie Morgan,” a very careless, stupid mistake.

  “I can’t believe that. Me and my fat fingers.” I rolled my eyes.

  “I’m sorry to tell you, Miss, but the names have to match exactly, including the middle name. I’m not supposed to let you through if they don’t. You’ll have to go back and have them reissue the ticket with the correct name.”

  I didn’t have to act the part of a panicked traveler. “But I’ll miss my flight. It’s a typo. That’s it.” I couldn’t believe I hadn’t caught it.

  She glanced over to her supervisor and motioned her to come. The supervisor, a heavyset black woman with a solidly gelled hairdo helmet, waddled over. The TSA agent handed her my driver’s license and the e-ticket.

  “The names don’t match exactly.”

  The supervisor looked at the documents. She had a no-nonsense grit to her. “How do you spell your last name?” She asked me.

  “M-o-r-g-h-a-n. It’s an unusual spelling,” I said. Actually, the night before, I’d told Stepan, “It’s the wrong spelling.” He pointed out that at least both the health card and the license were spelled wrong. “You Americans,” he said, “See? Two wrongs do make a right.”

  The supervisor swiped the health card and studied the screen. She handed it back to me and waved me through. “Next time make sure your ticket name is correct. We’re cracking down on those kinds of things.” She turned and strolled back to her corner.

  I shuffled into the line, which now had a gap because of all the time my papers took. I glanced back at Eddy, who looked ready to bolt. His eyes stayed locked ahead and steady. I tried to peer through the maze at the metal detector that Pete had gone through. I didn’t see him, but I saw Lisa taking off her shoes, so I could only assume he made it through without incident.

  I counted noses: Phil, Jola, and Kai were nearly lined up in the maze. I spotted Stepan. Under his armpits, large damp circles had grown on his shirt. That would be a trigger for the camera. I grimaced.

  Anna appeared two rows over in the maze and then I saw Michael a single row over. He caught my eye. He was biting his lower lip and very slightly tilting his head and jerking his eyes toward the line behind us. He looked like he might be having a small seizure until I finally connected that he was trying to direct my attention to Eddy, the only other one of us in line behind me.

  The blood rushed from my head; for a long moment I really thought I’d pass out. I tried to ever-so-casually look in the direction his head tilted, expecting to see somebody in jackboots slapping handcuffs on the only man I’d ever loved. The moment confused me, though. Eddy stood a few paces ahead of where he’d been, hands clasped in front of him, eyes straight ahead.

  I glanced back at Michael, who tilted his head again in the direction of Eddy. This time, I studied the people around Eddy. And there I saw him. Two people behind Eddy stood Sanjeev Srivastava, arms crossed and bored look on his face. He pushed his computer bag forward with his foot.

  Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him creep along. He kept looking at his watch and looking toward the metal detectors. His line faced the same direction as mine, so I safely watched him crawl along for a few minutes. When he turned the corner in the maze, I studied the person in front of me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him look in my direction, but I couldn’t tell if he was studying me or just not staring at how far he had to go to the metal detector.

  Eddy approached the TSA agent.

  In, out. In, out. I breathed as deliberately as I could.

  I turned the corner of the maze and once again followed the back of Sanjeev. Michael approached and we made eye contact.

  “He saw me,” Michael muttered. “I’m sure he did. What do I do?”

  “You’re fine. You can belong in this line. I’m the one who will trigger suspicion.”

  Particularly if Sanjeev sees Michael talking to me.

  Would Sanjeev recognize me? He saw me one night over dinner and one night with a baseball cap on and a pizza box. My hair looked entirely different, but my profile hadn’t changed. Given the stakes, if Sanjeev were smart, he’d know my face as well as the back of his hand.

  “He’s looking now,” I said, trying not to move my lips.

  I glanced back at the TSA agent and Eddy, who’d moved into the maze. There was no going back now. Sanjeev approached the TSA, papers in hand.

  My neck tingled.

  We traversed back and forth, back and forth like giant rats. We’d quickly learned to be patient and polite and tolerant of this demeaning exercise. We’d learned that if we challenged the TSA, we’d get sent to the extra security line. Most of us only needed one zap to behave. Complacency and cooperation were rewarded. Challenges and individual spirit were punished.

  How quickly we learn.

  Each time Michael and I passed, he grew more agitated. “Sanjeev keeps looking at me,” he’d mutter. I would have felt better if Sanjeev weren’t looking at me, too. At every turn, he stared in my direction.

  “It’s okay to look back. You’re not doing anything wrong. Give him a wave like you’re sur
prised he’s there.” My lips barely moved. The camera wouldn’t be able to read what I was saying, nor would Sanjeev.

  Michael either didn’t hear me or was too panicked to process what I said. He kept looking at Sanjeev but never gave him a nod of recognition.

  We were screwed.

  Phil and Jola reached the metal detector. Jola stepped through without a problem. But the TSA agent stopped Phil and had him walk through the arch a second time. I noticed he raised his arm and brushed back his hair. It exposed the inside of his upper arm a bit more.

  One more thing we should have thought about earlier. We should have put the capsule on the outside, not inside of our arms. It was taped. Would it really have made any difference if we’d taped it to the outside instead of the inside?

  The agent let Phil proceed.

  Stepan cleared the second checkpoint. In all their security detecting, apparently the TSAs hadn’t paid any attention to a profusely sweating person on a cool January day. So much for the billions we’d spent on homeland security. Even I could have figured that one out.

  I watched Sanjeev out of the corner of my eye. He watched Michael. It could only be minutes before he saw me and recognized me. I had to stop looking at Eddy. I felt nauseous and my chest constricted. Weren’t those heart attack symptoms?

  Anna reached the second checkpoint. She took off her shoes and placed everything in a bin. The line edged forward. She handed the TSA agent her health card to swipe and stepped through the metal detector. The TSA agent stared at the top of the detector. He nodded her toward the extra screening section where she sat on a chair while they rummaged through her bag. The only good thing about the moment was that it took my mind off Sanjeev, who could do nothing but create problems for us.

  Even from where I was in the maze, I could see that Anna had tensed up. She talked to them. They talked to her. They produced their wand and had her do the spread eagle stand so they could wand each appendage and her body. If they were just checking for metal, no problem. She wasn’t even wearing earrings. If the metal detector also looked for RFIDs, it would find this one in the wrong place.

  I tried not to watch.

  Kai entered the metal detector and was waved on. It looked to me like she made a beeline for the nearest restroom. That would be another security giveaway: who immediately heads for the bathroom and throws up?

  Now Anna sat in the security booth. They took her documents again and ran them through the scanner. They wanded her left arm again, the one that was supposed to have the vaccination.

  Behind us, Sanjeev finally truly woke up. “Michael!” He called in our direction.

  All Michael had to do was look back at Sanjeev, wave, and smile. But he wasn’t thinking straight. He ignored Sanjeev and kept shuffling forward.

  I prayed Sanjeev would only look at Michael. I prayed to be invisible. I prayed that Sanjeev was just headed out to a client site. Nothing unusual about the morning would enter his brain.

  Let me go on record: none of my prayers were answered.

  In the next moment, Sanjeev’s voice cut through the airport buzz. “Maggie?”

  I desperately needed an airline sickness bag or a restroom. Neither one looked likely.

  “Maggie Rider!” Sanjeev called out. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Eddy—two places ahead of Sanjeev in the line to hell—stiffen.

  It was one thing for Michael to be in line to head off to yet one more project in one more city. For the two of us to be in line and one of us to have short-cropped bleached hair shouted suspicion.

  “Maggie Rider?” Sanjeev called again. He voice sounded anxious, disbelieving.

  I breathed in. I breathed out. Only five more minutes. I couldn’t believe Sanjeev would draw attention to himself in line like that. It could only mean one thing: calling out a so-called terrorist held greater reward than shuffling along in line, head down, attitude compliant.

  He had to be brainwashed into believing he could keep his family safe. If he called Michael and me out, the Feds would truly believe they could trust him. They’d leave his family alone. Forever. Maybe. Not a chance.

  But he didn’t know that.

  Michael stepped into the next line over from the one Anna had been in for the metal detector. He took off his shoes and his belt.

  He walked through the metal detector. The TSA agent in his line looked at his e-ticket and said something to him. Michael pulled out his wallet, and the two had a brief discussion. The TSA waved him on. He put his shoes and belt back on.

  It wasn’t just my imagination. I could see his knees knocking together from where I stood. I intended to write my congressman as soon as I got home. Those security cameras were worthless.

  I didn’t dare look, but I could hear a scuffle a few rows over.

  “You have to let me through. I have to stop the terrorists up there,” Sanjeev’s voice rose over the murmurings of other passengers. “Maggie!” He shouted my name now. “You, in the brown coat and scarf.”

  I thought I was blending in, but all around me, people tilted their heads at my coffee-colored jacket and peach scarf.

  “An old boyfriend,” I muttered to the people around me. “He’s nuts. Really nuts.” My eyes shifted as I said it, a dead giveaway I was lying.

  The people around me started their shuffle again. I hoped they knew someone nutty too. They eased along carefully, maybe giving me the benefit of the doubt. Maybe just not wanting to draw attention to themselves.

  “Stop her!” Sanjeev’s voice came through again.

  The three rows between us grew anxious. You could feel it and hear the chatter.

  And then Eddy’s voice rose over the noise. “Excuse me? Are you missing a flight? We’re all worried about our flights, sir.”

  “No! We have to stop that woman up there. She’s a saboteur.” He pronounced it “sah-BO-tee-er,” like someone who had read the word “saboteur” but had never heard it pronounced.

  “Sah-BO-tee-er?” I repeated his odd pronunciation. “Nuts. He’s totally nuts,” I said again softly to the people around me.

  I breathed in; I breathed out. Three more minutes. I just needed three more minutes before Sanjeev got someone’s attention. I’d be home free—or arrested and detained depending on whether my health card and capsule matched. I inched a few more feet in the maze. Anna still sat in the glass booth. She was alone for the moment, thinking, sweating, praying, no doubt wishing she had a bottle of vodka. A TSA agent had reentered her booth. He held her documents in his hand.

  “Stop her!” Sanjeev’s voice reached a high panic level.

  I carefully glanced back. Eddy physically blocked Sanjeev with a wide stance. All around us TSA agents ignored the noise.

  “Her!” Sanjeev shouted again.

  I shook my head and repeated the nutty boyfriend line to the agent carting the bins to the front of the conveyer. The agent, a woman thank goodness, rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders.

  Really? I couldn’t believe these people were so gullible. We didn’t have a chance against real terrorists if this was the level of critical thinking we had to stop them.

  I took off my shoes and put them in the plastic tub. My heart pounded. I laid my purse flat beside my shoes. My heart pounded harder. I handed my health card to the TSA agent who swiped it and then signaled me to come through the metal detector. My heart exploded.

  Nothing happened. The TSA agent looked like he was watching the eighth inning of a scoreless baseball game. He handed my health card back to me. I put my shoes back on and picked up my purse.

  Behind me, Sanjeev stupidly kept calling out my name. He’d reached the conveyer belt, and I melted through a crowd of people into a gift shop. I picked out some reading glasses, a Giants baseball cap, and a plaid tote bag. After I dropped the cash on the counter, I stuffed my coat and scarf into the bag, put on the hat and glasses, and strolled back to the security area. It might have been the dumbest thing I’d done in my lifetime. But it would also be the least likel
y thing that Maggie Rider, terrorist and saboteur, would ever do.

  Two TSA agents collected Sanjeev on the other side of the metal detector and escorted him into a small glass cubicle. He pointed frantically toward the direction I’d disappeared.

  I don’t know why he thought anyone would believe someone with his skin tone. After all, America knew all this started with someone just like him, at least those who couldn’t tell the difference between an Indian and someone from the Middle East.

  I made eye contact with Anna. Her eyes were wide. Mascara tracked small rivulets down her cheeks.

  “Alicia?” I said. “Alicia Bukowski? Is that you?”

  She brightened. “Stephanie Morghan?”

  The TSA agent looked at me.

  “Oh, my God. I haven’t seen you in years,” she said.

  What an actress.

  I stepped toward the security booth. That very act could get me arrested. The TSA agent held up his hand to halt me.

  I paused. “It’s so good to see you!”

  “You know each other?” the TSA agent asked skeptically.

  “We were in college together.” It was a huge stretch. But I hoped I looked young, and I knew she looked old.

  The TSA agent sighed. He paused a fraction of a second too long. Anna gently pulled her documents from his hand, grabbed her bag and stepped into her shoes and out of the booth. “We’re finished here, right?” she said. Her boldness was ridiculously crazy.

  I held my breath.

  At that moment, another TSA agent called to Anna’s TSA agent. The other TSA agent was directing another passenger into the glass cubicle and handing papers off to Anna’s agent, who stared at Anna a moment longer, then turned and went into the booth with his new victim. As if he had a second thought, he shifted his body around and watched us again.