“After risking it first. Not a good way to go about rescuing a damsel in distress. Have you still got your phone?”
“Yes, I have it—oh damn, no I don’t. I forgot my purse! Don’t go back for it, though.”
Doug took his phone out and handed it to her. “Why don’t you call in and see if there’s problems at work? Just press the call button and hit seven, then hand it to me.” He could have managed, but he didn’t want to take his eyes from the road even for a second.
June took the phone, fumbled with it a moment while her breast almost escaped again, then handed the phone to Doug.
He listened for a second then said “This is Doug Craddock. I’m on Edge Street, coming in the back way.
Do you have problems there?” He waited a moment, then spoke again. “Uh huh. Tomorrow? All right.
Pass the word up that I’ll be on the cell phone if I’m needed. Yeah, that’s right. It’s posted. Okay, thanks.” He flipped the cover closed and stuck it back in his pocket.
“It’s about what I thought after we left Morgan’s. The riot, as they’re calling it, is happening along Elderberry avenue and west of there. That area is mostly lower class and mostly black. Apparently some of the local toughs took it upon themselves to rid the neighborhood of any whites at all. It spread from there. We just happened to be caught by a couple of the kids that were driven off by the police. Bad luck. CDC is secure, though. All the action is several blocks away and about under control now.
However, we’re all being recalled, as of tomorrow. No more off-campus living. They’ve got an extra crew doing a rush job on the place next door, turning it into temporary living quarters until our building at the CDC is ready.”
“Is the recall just for the security guys or the medical staff, too?”
“Just us so far, but I expect everyone will be hunkering down there before long.” Doug glanced over at her then looked away. “I’ve been heading toward the security building. Shall I take you home?”
“Doug… I don’t want to be alone right now. Could you stay with me?” Realizing that he might think she was implying more than just company, she amended the invitation—or request. She wasn’t sure which it was. “I don’t mean… um, that…”
“It’s okay. I know what you mean. Sure, I could stay with you, for tonight, anyway. I just can’t guarantee I won’t get called in, though.”
“Well, let’s go anyway. It’s not all that far from work. I’ll pack a bag and if you get called, I’ll go in with you and stay in one of the transient apartments. There’s always some empty ones. Or there have been in the past.”
“Okay, which way?”
June gave him directions. As they turned into the apartment complex she directed him to, Doug burst out laughing.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing, except that we live in the same place.”
June’s lips parted in surprise. She giggled, then gasped. “Good Lord. It’s like a bad plot from a romance novel. But why—oh, I remember. You said you hardly ever stayed here. That’s why we haven’t seen each other in passing.”
It turned out that they were even in the same twenty four unit building of the six structures comprising the Southern Arms Apartments, and both were downstairs, though on opposite sides of the building.
The only difference in their apartments was the decor and furnishings, but while Doug knew his own place hardly looked lived in, June had already made hers into something resembling a home, even with what he suspected was rented furniture. He could definitely tell the difference. It made him nostalgic, remembering all the little touches Doris had used in their home that he would never have thought of.
“I’m going to have a bourbon and water as soon as I’ve changed,” June announced. “There’s wine in the fridge if you’d rather stick with that. Make yourself comfortable while I go change clothes.” She hurried into the master bedroom and closed the door.
The kitchen area was open. Doug found the bourbon and made them each a drink, his a double. Once the shooting was over he had noticed a tremor in his body from the adrenalin rush that still hadn’t gone completely away.
While waiting on June to return, he called Gene Bradley. “Should I report it?” he asked after telling his story.
“I’ll take care of it, Doug. I doubt there’ll be much fuss raised. Those two weren’t the only deaths. A lot of whites were pulled from their cars and lynched before the police could get on it. Whites started retaliating, then the police had to fire on gangs from both sides to break them up. Hell, they even had to shoot two of their own black policemen who were taking part in the riot, as the media is calling it.”
“Thanks, Gene. I’ll be in tomorrow morning, first thing, but call if you need me before then.”
“No problem. See me when you get here.” The phone clicked dead as he heard the bedroom door opening. June came back in, wearing jeans and a short white blouse ending at her waist.
“I went ahead and made your drink. I put it over ice. Hope that’s all right.”
June sat down beside him on the couch and picked up the glass. She sipped then smiled. “Perfect. Want to turn on the TV and see what they’re saying?”
“Yes, I would,” Doug said. Regardless of Gene’s assurance, he wanted to know if the cops were looking for him.
If they were, it wasn’t apparent. All the reporting was centered around the residential and small business area where most of the violence had occurred. It wasn’t yet known exactly what had set off the rampage, other than the increasing number of blacks becoming ill or dying—while whites remained completely immune. Most of the businesses in the area had been looted then set on fire. A few were still blazing and a pall of smoke hung over the whole area.
“Someone leaked that information!” June said when the anchor began telling how the Harcourt virus had spread around the world as much as two years ago, then remained dormant until the present.
“They must have. I haven’t heard that yet, even as a rumor.”
“We just learned it a few days ago, but for the life of me, I don’t know why we were required to keep it secret. I can’t see where that helps a damn bit!”
“I’d bet it was being suppressed to give our politicians time to come up with a good answer for why it wasn’t caught back then. And by now, I’d also bet they know its origin.”
“Why wouldn’t they release that information if they know? It seems to me like that would ease some of the unrest.”
Doug shook his head and grinned cynically. “Not if it’s our own people who started it, they wouldn’t.”
“Oh,” June said, almost a whisper. “Is that what you think?”
“I wouldn’t put it past some of the nut cases we have running around the country. The run of the mill white supremacists would have needed some help, though. I doubt many of them have an IQ over room temperature.”
“Small consolation. Another drink?”
Doug drained his glass. “A single this time.”
June got up to make them.
Eventually they had seen all they wanted to of the local news and switched over to national. It was a continuing litany of how the disease was spreading, interspersed with interviews of pundits and politicians, all taking positions that they didn’t necessarily believe but thought would enhance their status or reelection prospects.
“Doug, I think I’m ready for bed,” June said a while later. “Come on and I’ll show you the other bedroom, though you’re welcome to stay up later if you like.”
“No, I want to get up early in the morning.”
June walked into the bedroom with him, showed him where towels and a spare toothbrush were kept, then before leaving, put her arms around his neck.
The kiss went on a long time, much longer than June had intended. When their lips finally separated, she whispered shakily, “Good night, Doug. Thank you again.”
“Good night, June.”
