AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Time check: 8:50.
Overhead, church bells began ringing. Not actual bells, she thought, but a bells recording, broadcast over loudspeakers. Not expensive loudspeakers—along with the bells a listener got electronic spits and sputters.
More people were arriving. She took one more long swipe on a polished wood seat, and then got up, made her best imitation of a sign of the cross, turned and walked toward the back. At the holy-water font, after another glance around, she poured the last of the culture from the fourth vial into the water.
The door to the church was now open full-time, as people hurried in, passing the open door from one to another. At the door, Catton looked back past the entering crowd and tried to make a quick head count. At least a hundred, she thought, and she was sure she couldn’tsee all of them. She lingered, to watch them enter: felt no sympathy for the pick-up-driving, jet-riding planet killers.
And she was done. She’d walk down toward the plaza, hit the restroom building with the last vial, and then walk back to Wong’s place and think about her next move. The plague, she thought, was now an inevitability. Not quite as fast and sweeping as they’d hoped, with the airport contamination plan, but it would happen.
And if Scott made it south, maybe they’d get the airports as well.
Outside the church, a heavy stream of worshippers was moving steadily toward the open door, and she stepped to the side to let them pass. Most were dressed for church, and many were wearing what looked like improvised church clothes—tourist clothes. That was a good thing: they’d be on planes tomorrow or the next day, and the plague would ride with them.
—
Lucas and Raegot to Wong’s house, knocked, got no answer. Rae asked, “What do you think?”
“We gotta talk to her,” Lucas said. “I guess…we wait?”
“She’s got an alarm system,” Rae said, pointing at a camera. “If we kick the door, it goes off, she sees it on her phone, calls the cops and rushes home.”
“And sues us.”
“I think the American taxpayer can handle it,” Rae said. “You want to kick, or should I?”
“That’s a job that usually calls for a man,” Lucas said. “But since I almost broke my knee trying to kick a door in Santa Fe, feel free.”
“Sissy.”
Rae took a couple of steps back, a couple more toward the door, and kicked it at the knob. The door jamb broke, but the door held on. “One more time.” She kicked it again, the door window cracked, and the door popped open.
From past habit, they both stood still, and silent, waiting to see if somebody screamed. Nobody did.
Lucas took his gun out, and held it up to Rae, who nodded, and they went inside, with Lucas leading. A pot of oatmeal stood on the stove, and the smell of it was in the air. Rae reached out and tentatively touched the metal side of the pot, and said, “Still warm. Somebody’s been here in the last little while.”
“Then watch yourself—what’s that door?”
“Probably the garage. Let me look.” Rae had her pistol out, eased up beside the door. Cracked it, listened then pushed it open. “Garage, two cars, no sign of life.”
“Walk around it,” Lucas said.
Rae got her gun out front and walked around the two cars, looked between, came back and said, “Yeah. They were here.”
“How do you know?”
“Because there are…one, two, three…three new bicycle reflectors laying on the floor.”
“Ahh…Let’s clear the rest of the place and see what we can find. There’s a suitcase over there, got clothes in it,” Lucas said.
He took a step toward it, then Rae caught his arm and said, “Should we be doing this? If we think they’ve been here…what if they’ve contaminated it?”
Lucas thought about it, then said, “Wouldn’t we be kinda small-fry? One or two people in this place…not that we shouldn’t quarantine afterwards.”
“Okay. That’s a thought. Let’s clear it.” They took a step toward the back, and Lucas put out a hand.
“You hear people talking?”
Rae listened. “What is it? Doesn’t sound like a news program.”
