I took his hand and squeezed it between mine. “Sorry.”
“No, I meant for you, too.”
I nodded. “I’m glad you were here.”
He nodded back.
“I should call Claudia,” I said. “Let her know what’s been going on and see how she’s doing, how her dad is doing. How the whole family is doing.”
I took the phone from its cradle and selected Claudia’s number. As I thought about what I was going to tell her, the emotions rose up in me again. I was worried that when she answered I wouldn’t be able to talk. I almost hung up so I could collect myself and call back, but before I could, I got an error tone and a message saying that number was unreachable due to problems with the transmission lines.
“Weird,” I said to myself.
“What’s that?” Rex called from the living room.
“It says Claudia’s phone is out of order. Problems with the transmission lines.”
“Huh. She’s kind of out in the woods, right? Maybe it’s because of the brush fires.”
“Yeah, maybe.…”
“It’s weird, though, you’re right,” he said. Then, he sighed. “I guess these are weird times.”
“Yeah,” I said as I hung up the phone. “Weird and terrible.”
FORTY-TWO
After I took a quick shower, Rex and I heated up a frozen pizza. It wasn’t very good. I’d had real pizza twice that week, and this was not that. It was probably left over from before Kevin had left for college.
As we ate, we talked about the ramifications of my lies about Dymphna, and not telling the FBI—or my mom—that Stan Grainger had killed her, or even that I had seen him in the area again, this time for sure. Rex reassured me that I had done the right thing, that I had no other choice, really. I tried to call Claudia a few more times, but I got the same message. I decided I would go out there the next day.
Mom came home as we were eating our second pieces. She grimaced at the pizza, but she grabbed a piece and started eating it, too. She seemed to share my opinion of it.
“How’s Trudy?” I asked.
Mom shook her head, her eyes welling up. “She’s devastated. I think she always thought one day Dymphna would resurface, and they could be like sisters again. But…” She shrugged and wiped her eyes. I squeezed her shoulder and she put a hand over mine. We ate in silence for a few minutes before she got up, put her plate in the sink, and turned on the news.
The big story was the flu outbreak. A counter on the side of the feed tallied reported cases, and deaths, attributed to it. When the anchor reported on the anonymous allegations that Wells was behind the outbreak, Mom turned and stared at me. I ignored her, keeping my eyes front.
“Pretty wild that they’re saying that Wells is behind this mystery flu, huh?” she said.
I could feel her eyes scouring me for signs that I knew about it. I could feel Rex stiffen up beside me.
“Yeah, it is,” I said, keeping my eyes front. “I wouldn’t put it past him though. Not after all the other stuff he’s been involved in.”
We watched as the talking heads argued whether the allegations should be taken seriously or whether it was a hoax to be disregarded. The debate apparently had gone all the way to the White House, where the president—who was running for reelection and was now Howard Wells’s political rival—vowed an investigation. All of his cabinet members, on the other hand, continued to insist the allegations were baseless. A panel of so-called experts argued both sides. It consisted of public health officials, politicians, and pundits, one of whom was Alenka Bogdan, who ridiculed the allegations and what she called the “hysteria” over the flu outbreak. All those dismissing the allegations and the threat of the mystery virus had Wellplants, and those voicing alarm and urging action did not.
The next story was about Wellplant Corporation, and how it had come to light that the recent network outage or system update or whatever had been far more disruptive than they had admitted. And with so many users in positions of authority in major corporations and governments around the world, the security ramifications of that outage were still rippling throughout the global economy. Once again, those with Wellplants were dismissing the concerns, while those without Wellplants were calling for investigations into the stability and security of the Wellplant network.
Wellplant’s stock prices were fluctuating wildly around the world, plunging with each new revelation or allegation, then soaring back due to a surge in Wellplant orders, apparently from people afraid this might be their last chance to get one. I wondered if Cronos’s plans to crash the network would cause a similarly mixed reaction. Would it bring down Wells’s empire, or would people simply get over it, like they seemed to be doing now?
The tension remained high as the next few stories chronicled a string of strange events around the world, including several countries massing forces at their borders, seemingly without provocation. Along with the usual litany of global weather disasters, local brush-fire reports, and dire warnings about a climate tipping point, they contributed to the ominous sense that things were somehow coming to a head.
Then a story came on about a mysterious shoot-out at a vertical farm in Camden.
“Camden?” Mom said, pausing. I froze as the holovid cut to a 3D image of the vertical farm where Dymphna was killed. It showed the window panel missing and the wreckage of the drone and Jerry’s truck smoking on the ground. As the image slowly rotated, the Ben Franklin Bridge came into view. I wondered if I was up there on it, looking down at the drones and everything. Or if I was still running through Camden trying to get to the bridge.
The newscaster talked about the massive destruction at the scene and the fact that only one body was found, an unidentified woman in her fifties.
“Oh my God,” Mom said. “Do you think that could have been Dymphna?”
I faked a gasp, hating myself for it. “Oh wow. I don’t know.”
Mom stared at me again, and it took a tremendous force of will to keep my eyes directed at the holovid.
“Looks like it was a pretty intense scene there,” I said, watching the feed.
Eventually, Mom shook her head. “I can’t watch anymore.”
As she went into the kitchen, Rex and I risked a quick, mortified glance.
Mom game back with a glass of water but stopped at the stairs. “I’m going to bed,” she said. “I’m exhausted, and I have a meeting first thing tomorrow. When are you working for Marcella next?”
“Wednesday or Thursday. She’s out of town.”
“Okay, well don’t stay up too late, okay? With this flu going around, you need to be good to your immune systems.”
Rex said, “Yeah. I should get going.”
“You’re leaving?” I said.
“It’s late.”
My mom gave him a smile, but couldn’t hold it, like it had used up the last speck of energy she had. “You’re welcome to stay the night, Rex. Jimi can set you up in Kevin’s room.”
“Oh, thanks,” he said, looking to me. I nodded and he said, “That would be great.”
Mom said, “Of course. Good night, kids.” Then she put her hand on my head and kissed my cheek before heading upstairs.