Cascade, page 32
They slowly gathered their range bags and assorted gear and trudged toward their cars in the gathering gloom, which were parked on the far side of the property. Most everyone else had finished before them, and the bays were empty as they walked by but for range officers checking for forgotten personal items.
The food trucks parked in front of the clubhouse were long gone, and most of the vendor tents had been packed up for the night as well. Jack glanced over at the clubhouse and saw there was a large crowd inside. So large, in fact, that it was spilling out the door. He needed to put his gear away in his rental car before he could even think about whether he wanted to hang out at the bar. Drinking at the range, when he had a twenty-mile drive back to the hotel, seemed like a bad idea, but hanging out and talking to some of his fellow competitors…it was then he saw the image on the big TV above the bar through the window.
“Hold on,” he said, coming to a stop. “What shit is this now?” Because it was the President he saw, standing behind a narrow podium bearing the Presidential seal, a stern look on her face.
Jack walked over. The crowd spilling outside had the door propped open, and the bartender had turned up the sound so everyone could hear the TV. “What’s going on?” Jack asked. The rest of his squad came up behind him.
“Terror attack. Biological weapon. She’s grounding all flights, just like they did on Nine-Eleven,” one of the men nearby said.
“What?” Jack said stupidly, staring with his mouth open at the TV.
* * *
Raquel made a sound, and her son looked over. Her eyes were wide, and her hand was in front of her mouth.
“What is it?” Ricky asked her. He wasn’t paying attention to the TV, he was playing a game on his tablet, but he didn’t like the look on his mother’s face. He looked at the TV, and saw some lady standing at a podium talking. There were a bunch of old people standing behind her, looking serious. He understood the phrase, “…highly contagious…”.
“Is somebody sick?” he asked his mom.
“No, it’s…it’s something else,” Raquel said. She wasn’t sure how to explain it to her son. She could barely wrap her mind around it herself, she definitely didn’t know how to explain a biologic terror attack to an eight-year-old.
“No flying?” He’d caught something about cancelled flights. “It’s a good thing we’re not going anywhere.” He saw she was still staring at the TV, at the people talking. She looked really worried. He knew that meant something was really bad. He was just glad he wasn’t the one in trouble. Something occurred to him. “Does this mean you don’t have work tomorrow?” he asked.
Raquel blinked at the question. “I…I don’t know.”
* * *
His aunt was still glued to the TV. She loved the President like the woman was her daughter, and kept gasping at odd intervals as the President said something in response to a reporter’s question. After three unsuccessful tries, Matt was able to get through on his phone.
“Matt?” His wife sounded quite worried. Understandably so. He moved out of the room, so he could hear her better.
“Hi babe. You okay? Matty okay?”
“Yes, we’re okay, don’t worry about us. What about you?”
“I’m fine, Aunt Mary’s fine. Why wouldn’t we be fine?”
His wife laughed, the sound high and nervous. She was on the edge, he could tell.
“Carli, seriously, I’m fine, I’ll be fine. I’m out in the desert. Viruses die almost immediately in direct sunlight, and that’s all they’ve got here.” He vaguely remembered hearing something about that on some NatGeo science show.
“There’s no sunlight indoors,” she told him.
“Well, I’m not hanging out in the casino. And Mary already douses everything with bleach when she cleans, it smells like a public pool in here half the time. When it doesn’t smell like a public bathroom, with her candles. Honestly, there’s probably a pretty good chance they’re blowing this all out of proportion. They’ve done it before.” He well remembered those endless months of working in a mask.
“But she cancelled the flights. You’re supposed to be coming home in two days.”
“Flights might be back on by then, you never know. But the airport will likely be a shitshow,” he admitted. There was a good chance he’d be late coming back to work. They wouldn’t be happy about it, but they’d understand—not his fault, act of God. Actually, act of war. That thought chilled him a little bit. Committed by some weird extremist Syrian sect no one had heard of before, likely buried under the barrage of cruise missiles the President had ordered sent their way, but that didn’t help stop the deadly superflu already spreading across America. Well, not a flu, but flu-like symptoms, or so the lady from the CDC said. In addition to brain swelling which caused violent seizures, although that was supposed to be rare. “Let’s not worry about the what-ifs, okay? She won’t keep the flights grounded forever. After Nine-Eleven flights were only grounded for a couple days, I think, and that’s when they used actual jets to attack. Worse comes to worst, I can just rent a car and drive back.” Which he definitely wouldn’t enjoy, it was a good three-day drive, but that seemed infinitely better than spending an indefinite amount of time living with his aunt. Who, with her tendency to embrace doom and gloom, would likely be a miserable wreck and near impossible to live with. And she’d be back to wearing a mask. Probably indoors. Maybe demanding he do the same. “Is Matty around?” One thing which would cheer him up would be talking to his goofball son.
“He’s already asleep,” Carli told him.
“Oh. Well, I will call you every day. Several times a day, just to keep you updated. I had a bit of trouble getting through just now, but I’m guessing everyone in the country was using their phones at the same time.” He peeked his head past the door frame. The press conference was over, but now the talking heads were on, explaining to the stupid people what they’d just heard. This attack would be the entire 24/7 news cycle for days, if not weeks.
“People might freak out,” Carli told him. “You should go shopping tomorrow. Get some extra food for Mary. She’ll argue she doesn’t need it—”
He smiled. “You’re darn right about that.”
“—but you know how people get when there’s a hurricane or whatever. They buy up all the toilet paper. And get stupid.” She made a sound. “Better safe than sorry. In case you get stuck there longer than you think.”
Crazy how all the non-binary chicks are either 1s or 0s
@TechN9ne (Instagram)
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Taylee
“I swear to God, I don’t think people can get any stupider,” Taylee said, her voice only slightly muffled by the mask. She was sitting at the far end of the bench, closer than six feet to the other young mother, but she’d had enough of standing. “We were attacked, it was a terrorist attack, the President went on TV, and people are arguing about masks and shutting down airports.” Taylee couldn’t remember what the other woman’s name was, if she ever knew it, but Jonnie James liked playing with her cute blonde daughter. The girl was maybe four years old, and Taylee was a bit irritated that she wasn’t wearing a mask as she played with JJ on the jungle gym. JJ’s mask kept slipping down and she was getting tired of yelling at him to pull it up over his nose. Taylee felt vindicated and more than a little superior for having never stopped wearing her mask, at least at work, now that there was a real pandemic causing problems.
“My brother’s stuck in New Orleans,” the woman said. She had on a simple paper mask. If they hadn’t been outside Taylee might have been concerned at the gaps between the mask and the woman’s face.
“Because of the flights?”
“Yeah. Did the President say how long the airports would be closed?”
“No. But do you want them back open? Look how crazy things are already.” The news shows were full of clips of sick people coughing, and most of the emergency rooms were already over capacity, and it had been less than a day since the announcement. Plus all the reports and crazy videos of people getting violent, in America and some other countries in Europe, France and Italy and Cairo. She was pretty sure Cairo was in Europe, somewhere near Egypt. Bad riots. And those zombies, or whatever they were, caused by the brain swelling, or so everyone was saying, popping up everywhere. She knew they weren’t actually zombies, probably, but they sure acted like it, attacking cars and people and trying to bite everything, getting shot by cops, and not seeming to care. And that one out of—Buffalo? Philadelphia? Something like that—where the guy ran out into traffic, got run over and his legs crushed by a semi, and still tried to crawl after the people he’d been chasing, snarling and biting like a rabid dog.
The two women heard shouting and looked off to the north, toward the boundary of the park. They didn’t see anything, and went back to watching their kids. Taylee had a small bag of Smartfood White Cheddar popcorn, which she loved, and pulled down her mask from time to time to toss a kernel into her mouth. “I think a lot of people got stuck out of town,” Taylee said around a mouthful of popcorn. She’d actually never been on a plane, and didn’t have much sympathy for people complaining about the hassles of air travel. Rich people problems weren’t real problems. “He can rent a car and drive home, right?”
“I guess. If they don’t let the planes fly again.” There was the sound of squealing tires, and honking. They looked over again, but the road bordering the park was out of sight behind a row of bushes and trees. As Taylee turned back she saw a jogger come into view from the direction of the street and head into the park. “Do you think they’ll close the park?”
The question seemed to surprise the other mother, and she looked around Humboldt Park. “I don’t know. It’s outside. People can socially distance.”
“But it’s public. And I don’t know if the city has the people to disinfect the playscapes and benches.”
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll see. They’ll probably close the bathrooms, like they did with Covid.”
Taylee frowned behind her mask. It seemed like she always had to pee, and she hated the idea of having to drive back home for that, when one of the park’s public restrooms was a hundred yards away across the playground. She wasn’t going to get the virus off a toilet seat, she always hovered when she used a public bathroom. It usually made a mess, but she didn’t have to clean it. But there were the door handles, and sink handles, and the locks on the stall doors…which made her think of Purell. Did she have any left at home? She probably should head to the grocery store, and buy some. It was likely to be in short supply after the President’s announcement. Hand sanitizer, toilet paper, maybe milk and water. Grocery shopping hadn’t been on her list of things to do on her day off, but maybe it wasn’t a bad idea. Or she could go tomorrow, as she really didn’t feel like doing it today. They weren’t likely to sell out in a day, were they?
She caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye, and turned her head to see the same jogger, heading back toward them. He was tired, and stumbling a little. But then she noticed he wasn’t in jogging clothes but rather jeans and a button-down shirt. Was he out for exercise, or was he just some guy, stumbling along? Drunk or whatever. He didn’t seem to be looking at anything, or headed anywhere in particular, weaving on and off the asphalt path. She didn’t know exactly what was wrong with him, but it was clear something was. He wasn’t drunk, she could somehow sense that. Something was seriously wrong with him, it felt like the hair on the back of her neck wanted to stand up as she watched him.
Taylee stood up, keeping the metal bench between her and the man, who was maybe fifty feet away. She thought about calling out to JJ, but she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. The shambling man didn’t seem to have noticed them yet. And the woman she’d been talking to hadn’t either; instead she was staring at Taylee, not sure what she was doing.
Keeping her eyes on the erratically moving man, Taylee backed up, toward the playscape. She could hear the kids behind her and moved blindly in that direction.
“Jonnie James, it’s time to go,” she said quietly. He ignored her, as he usually did, and kept playing. He knew that unless she yelled really loud, or had said something at least three times, she wasn’t serious.
The other mother realized Taylee wasn’t looking at her but rather past her. She turned, and saw the man. He was standing just off the path, panting rapidly, head held at an odd angle. With odd twitches running through his body. She made a sound, involuntarily, and the man jerked his head to stare at her. Her hands shot up, covering her mask. The obviously disturbed man took a step toward the two women, then an old man rode his bike through a gap in the bushes along the sidewalk, chain squeaking merrily as he peddled.
With an oddly high shriek the man took off running after the bicycle, loping in an odd bounding gait, gibbering loudly. He covered half the distance quickly, before the skinny old man leisurely pedaling along heard him and looked over his shoulder. With a curse the old man stood up and dug into the pedals, increasing his speed, but also doubling the volume of the loud, annoying squeaks.
The crazy man ran faster, now screaming, and the old man was yelling too, pedaling as fast as he could. Taylee pulled her eyes away and ran the last few feet to the playscape. “Jonnie James, we have to go,” she said, panting and terrified in a way she just couldn’t explain. The shouting and wordless yells were moving away from her, but not fast enough. Her son ignored her, fiddling with something on the landing above the short slide. Taylee turned and looked over her shoulder.
The old man on the bike was pedaling furiously, maybe a hundred yards away, glancing over his shoulder every second as the snarling and oddly bouncy man chasing him drew closer. Then the deranged man leapt. The two men went down in a tumble with the bike. One of them shouted. And then the screaming began.
“Jonnie James!” Taylee shrieked. She didn’t wait for him to respond, she physically grabbed him off the slide and carried him as fast as she could, toward the parking lot and her car. Her son decided to fight and kick as he often did, and she almost dropped him. “Stop it!” she hissed. One hand still knotted in his shirt she looked over her shoulder, eyes wide with terror. The screaming on the distant lawn had escalated. She could see kicking legs as they rolled around. The other mother was freaking out—she’d grabbed her daughter as well, and they were running hand-in-hand away from the fighting, shouting men.
She tried to pull her son up, and he decided to go limp, and she nearly fell over at the unexpected weight. “Stop it!” she cursed.
“I don’t want to go!” he yelled. “I want to stay and play! Want to play!” He laid down on the grass and kicked his legs.
Eyes wide, she looked back again at the attack. The old man’s struggles and cries had nearly ceased, and Taylee was pretty sure she saw blood. Bright red blood. A few people were running toward him; others, mostly young mothers with children like her, were running away. Beneath her, JJ decided to start shouting “No! No! No!” as he had his tantrum, kicking at the grass.
The roundhouse slap across his face echoed through the park. He stopped, shocked, mouth open, as she’d never spanked him, had never laid a hand on him. She grabbed him with both hands and yanked him to his feet so roughly his teeth snapped together. “Shut up and run!” she told him, grabbing his upper arm and pulling him along. He was so surprised at being slapped that he forgot to fight when she buckled him into his car seat with shaking hands, and only started crying as she pulled out of the parking lot with a chirp of rubber. By that time Taylee was crying as well, and no comfort.
If the earth were a single state, Istanbul would be its capital.
Napoleon Bonaparte
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Istanbul
The narrow streets were paved in the same flat bricks that formed the sidewalks. Gray bricks, with a hint of tan. Some of the streets looked older, the corners and edges of the bricks rounded, but much of the brickwork looked new, or close to it. They hadn’t known what to expect—none of them knew Turkey, or Istanbul, very well (if at all), but they were the first available team. Most of them had been expecting a Third World shithole, but Istanbul, at least this section of the Fatih district, was modern, and clean, and they could have been in one of the Scandinavian countries.
Three- to six-story buildings lines the streets which had been laid down long before automobiles came into existence. Most of the buildings were apartments, with commercial businesses on the ground floor—banks, grocery stores, restaurants with limited sidewalk seating. The buildings were painted in various bright colors—whites, yellows, light grays—with modern windows. Most of the signage was in Turkish, but English wasn’t uncommon. The crowded neighborhood was halfway—walking distance—between the Grand Bazaar and the Hagia Sofia, the former a roofed shopping area that had been a tourist destination for generations, the latter one of the largest and most famous mosques in the world. Which had once been the largest Christian cathedral in the world…but history was a fickle bitch, with a dark, twisted sense of humor.
The Hagia Sophia was positioned between the Topkapi Palace and the Blue Mosque, all three of them popular tourist destinations for people coming from around the world, well over ten million of them a year. The historic structures sat on expansive, interconnected properties that stretched across a kilometer, near the western shore of the Bosphorous Strait. On the far side of the strait Istanbul ran on for nearly twenty more miles, but on the eastern shore of the Bosphorous it was Asia. The western half of Istanbul was in Europe. A city on two continents. Just one of the fascinating historical facts about the ancient city that had been a capital for various empires, large and small, for over 1600 years, but had been in existence far longer than that. Before it was Istantbul it was Constantinople, and before that it was Byzantium. In various spots around the city you could find pre-Roman ruins.
