FORTY-ONE
WASHINGTON, D.C.
It was late by the time Julia came home, or rather by the time she got to Rachel’s town house. The place still didn’t feel like home, although she’d never admit that out loud, as much to protect herself as Rachel. Home wasn’t a place. It was a state of mind and for some reason she hadn’t wrapped her mind around being a part of this household. But it was tough. Rachel and CariAnne had been on their own, just the two of them, for a very long time.
Julia heard the TV in the family room and thought Rachel would be watching the news. She couldn’t stay away from it, checking the headlines on her smartphone every half hour, sometimes more often if something big was happening. This was probably an every-fifteen-minutes day. So she was surprised to find CariAnne in the oversized recliner, her little body wrapped in a bright yellow blanket and swallowed by the big chair.
“What are you doing still up?”
“Watching Leno.”
She said it like it was something she did every night. Did she even know who Jay Leno was?
“How are you feeling?” Julia sat on the sofa, a safe two feet away.
“Still kinda yucky. But better.”
“Is that popcorn I smell?”
“It sounded good.”
“Your mom’s letting you have popcorn?”
“Just a little.”
“And she’s letting you stay up late?”
“I slept like forever when I got home. I’m wide awake now.”
“Ah, you’re just in time,” Rachel said, bringing in a tray.
Julia noticed there were three bowls of popcorn and three cans of cold soda. That was the stuff that tripped up her heart—being included so automatically.
“We’re watching Leno.”
“I heard. I didn’t realize you knew there were other channels that didn’t have twenty-four-hour news.”
CariAnne giggled. She pulled the remote from under the yellow blanket.
“You rule!” Julia said and put up her hand for the girl to high-five her. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, kiddo.”
“Me, too.”
“So what made the kids sick? Do they know?”
“Not yet.” Julia grabbed a handful of popcorn. She hoped Rachel wouldn’t probe further.
“Did anybody die?”
“CariAnne!”
“I’m just asking.”
“I don’t think anybody’s dead.” Julia smiled at Rachel’s horror, realizing her precious little girl would dare to be as blunt as her mother.
It still surprised Julia to see Rachel, the mom. The woman reported some of the most gruesome crimes in the District. In fact, they liked to tell people how they had met over the dead bodies of a hooker and her pimp. Rachel definitely wasn’t naive or a newcomer when it came to the brutalities that people were capable of. But when it came to her daughter, Rachel was upset by the slightest sign that CariAnne was aware of the ugly facts.
Julia, of course, had learned how to be a grown-up when she was ten. She thought kids were coddled too much as it was.
“My friend Lisa gets to spend the night in the hospital,” CariAnne told Julia and exchanged a look with her mom.
“Lisa’s very sick,” Rachel said. “I keep telling CariAnne that staying overnight at the hospital is not like a slumber party.”
“Yeah, she probably has to have needles stuck in her arm.”
“Julia!”
“Ewww. I hate needles.”
“Twelve kids were hospitalized,” Rachel told Julia. “They said the CDC and Homeland Security were at the school. Is that true?”
By now Julia thought that was probably old news. So without hesitation she answered, “Yes.”
A news alert flashed at the bottom of the television screen. The block type crawled across the bottom telling about the District public-school outbreak and said that it was caused by a negligent food handler.
“That’s not true,” Julia said. “Who the hell are they getting their information from?”
The last part of the statement moved across the screen.
“ … according to the Secretary of Agriculture.”
FORTY-TWO
After dropping off Julia and Bix, Platt had driven directly to USAMRIID. He had left Digger with his parents so going home to an empty house didn’t even entice him. The little dog would act as a better security alert than their electronic system. Before he left, Platt had told his father about the black SUV that had tailed him from the diner.
“Just be careful,” he had warned his dad.
“Always am” was the response, but Platt knew his parents lived in a whole other world. And he hated that he may have brought one of the dangers from his life into theirs.
He had called them several times throughout the day and everything appeared to be normal. He was hoping last night’s incident was more curiosity than threat.
For the last hour he had kept himself so busy that he didn’t think about Ali, Mary Ellen, or the miserable memories that had flooded his head. He concentrated on preparing slides from the garbage he and Racine had bagged along with some of the vomit. Bix had even shared some samples from the sick high schoolers in Norfolk. It hadn’t taken long before he found the bacterium—salmonella. But Bix was right. It was an unusual strain.
By now the scientists down in Atlanta knew what they were dealing with. Usually the bacterium was found in ground beef, poultry, or eggs. Sometimes it even ended up on raw vegetables or fruit. Platt also knew that some strains had become resistant to the antibiotics that were fed to cattle and poultry.
Confirming what the bacterium was didn’t make it any easier to decipher what food it had hidden in. Platt was hoping that’s where his samplings of the schoolkids’ vomit would come in handy as well as the food packaging.
Under the microscope the bacteria looked like tiny pegs jammed in among the cells. They attached themselves to the linings of the gastrointestinal organs. The bacteria would work their way through the stomach, inflaming the mucosa and usually causing severe vomiting. From there the bacteria continued migrating down, depositing themselves onto the walls of the intestine, causing it to bloat and dilate. That’s what caused the extreme pain and diarrhea. If the pesky critters decided to take an additional stay in the colon during their trip down, they could force the inner lining to tear away. The entire passage took less than two hours.
Less-severe cases were often misdiagnosed as stomach flu or irritable bowel syndrome. Truth was, sudden bouts of stomach flu didn’t happen that often. Most people didn’t realize that their upset stomach—especially within two to six hours after a meal—was mostly caused by some food-borne bacteria.
Ali had the stomach flu. That was all that Mary Ellen thought it was. It was her reason, her explanation for not calling Platt, for not telling him sooner. He had been in Afghanistan just after the start of the war, a world away,
