Maybe

Maybe says, “And I should call you Creed, like everyone else.”

“Good point. No sense in broadcasting the fact you’re my daughter.”

From the kitchen Gwen Peters yells, “You’re ignoring me again!”

Gwen is Callie’s current love interest. I dated her first, but Callie stole her from me. Kimberly-I mean, Maybe- has met Callie before, but this is her first exposure to Gwen.

“Every time that man enters our house you completely ignore me,” Gwen pouts.

Callie smiles and says, “That man.”

I smile and say, “Our house.”

Callie says, “That man is worse than our house.”

I agree.

“Hard to imagine how quickly I’ve sunk so far,” I say. “What’s she doing in there, anyway?”

“Burning cupcakes.”

“Seriously?”

“She’s the world’s worst cook.”

“Maybe I should tell her you said that.”

“Maybe I should tell her about Rachel.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I check the screen.

“It’s Lou,” I say.

Callie turns to Maybe and says, “Let’s go salvage the cupcakes.”

As they walk from den to kitchen, I say, “What’s up, Lou?”

“Donovan, I’ve got Homeland Security on the phone, several members of the Pentagon, and the president.”

“Hello, Mr. President,” I say.

A voice says, “This is Sherm Phillips, Secretary of Defense. The President’s monitoring the call, so I’ll cut to the chase. We’ve got word of a bio-terrorist attack at the Derby City Fair in Louisville, Kentucky.”

“How can I help?”

“Lou Kelly says you understand terrorists better than anyone in the country.”

“I won’t argue the point.”

“He says you understand how they think. We’re blind on this one, and need to know what’s happened.”

I get a whiff of burnt cupcakes from the kitchen, put my hand over the phone, and yell, “Are you frosting them?”

“We are,” Maybe says. “You want one?”

“Chocolate, if you have it,” I say.

Back on the phone I ask Sherm, “What do you know for certain about the attack?”

“No bombs detonated, but people’s hands and faces have been affected.”

“Affected how?”

“The flesh is falling off their bones.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“People’s hands, babies’ faces-appear to be melting.”

“How many victims?”

“Somewhere around twenty.”

My mind starts racing.

“Babies?”

“That’s right.”

“Their entire face or just the lips and cheeks?”

There’s a pause. “Lips and cheeks. How’d you know?”

“You said people’s hands. Is it mostly women and children?”

“Yes.”

“When you say their flesh is falling off the bone. Which side of their hands is worse, the palms or the back of the hands?”

“Does it matter?”

“What do you think?”

“Hold on.”

Sherm clicks back on and says, “It’s worse on the palms.”

“Hand sanitizer,” I say.

“Excuse me?”

“Ask if they have plastic hand sanitizing stations at the fair.”

“Why?”

“My first guess? This is an urban terrorist, acting alone. He’s putting a chemical agent in the public hand sanitizers. Some type of acid. Mom pushes the plunger, foam comes out, she rubs her palms together, then the top of her hands, then pumps some more and rubs it on her baby’s hands and cheeks. She can’t leave the toddlers out, so she pumps again and wipes their hands. For some reason the acid effect is delayed. But after a time, it starts burning holes in their hands and cheeks.”

I hear Sherm in the background. He’s on another line, asking if they have hand sanitizing stations at the fair.

Callie, Maybe, and Gwen enter the room. Gwen places a tray of cupcakes on the coffee table. Each lady has her own unique style of attack, but when Gwen licks her frosting the temperature in the room goes up five degrees.

A new voice comes on the line.

“Mr. Creed.”

“Yes, Mr. President?”

Callie arches her eyebrows.

“You asked if they had plastic hand sanitizing stations at the fair. Why plastic?”

“Plastic resists acid erosion.”

There’s another pause. Then the president says, “There are two stations on the midway, two in the exhibit buildings. All four have plastic reservoirs. I think you’ve done us a great service.”

“Thank you sir.”

He says, “It terrifies me to know there are people like you in the world.”

“Rest easy, Mr. President. I’m on your team.”

“That’s what frightens me.”

I say, “You understand this is just the beginning?”

“What do you mean?”

“You need to get the word out to all airports, public buildings, private businesses, anyone who uses plastic dispensers in bathrooms or work spaces. Especially Louisville, and the surrounding cities and towns.”

“You’re joking.”

“Not remotely.”

“You said it’s one man, acting alone.”

“That’s what makes him so dangerous.”

“We need to catch him.”

“Good luck with that.”

He pauses. “Could you catch such a man?”

“If he continues attacking? Yes. But it’ll take time.”

“How much time?”

“If he stays busy? Days or weeks.”

“Then catch him.”

“I’ll need the full cooperation and resources of government and law enforcement.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll need the highest possible clearance.”

“You’re joking.”