Torn (10 page)

“What?”

“Not even on the net. I did a search, yeah, little ones.”

“Are we looking for new pets to kill?”

Darius gave a scolding glance. “No. News of what happened.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Remember when we were walking in the house I told you it was odd.”

“I thought you were referring to the house.”

“No,” Darius said. “I was referring to the fact that nothing is menti
oned in the news, the paper, no
where.”

“Well.
…” Colin popped the tab to his can. “I guess the government accomplished what they wanted. They got their story out, people are satisfied, move on with our lives.” He wiped off the can before taking a drink. “So, no
w that you’ve looked on the net,
w
anna go get that food now?”

“One more thing. I want to post on my science club.”

“Excuse me?” Colin asked. “You have a science club?”

“Not me personally. I belong to it. Harvard runs it. You have to enter your teacher information and doctrine stuff before they allow you to join. Everyone’s legit. You should join. It’s fun.”

“Fun? A science club is fun? No, no thank you. I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself,” Darius said as he typed.

“What exactly are you posting?” Colin asked.

“The way I figure, i
f there are any ear
thly changes, weird occurrences
or phenomena being discovered, it will be here. Trust me. In addition, if it’s not, my post should send them scurrying to look. This is fascinating enough that they’ll research it themselves with vengeance.”

“Ah.
…” Colin nodded. “Have all the bright minds
out there do your hard work
for you, then you piece it together and take credit.”

“Exactly.”

Colin smiled. “I knew I raised you right.” He lifted his soda can with a grin.

I
t amazed Bret how much remained,
or rather how little remained in her home after the government seized and disinfected
it
.

The computer received a nice dust job, but other than that and anything
else
hard, it was gone. Anything with cushion, foam,
or feathers…
removed for fear of hidden nesting. She was grateful her clothes—with the exception of a few sweaters—were still ther
e. The new furniture was cheesy
but free. So were the bedspreads for that matter.

It was evident that Jesse worked hard on the house. Having been told by a remaining neighbor that the authorities pretty much showed zero respect toward property, the house could have been destroyed. Or not there, such as Sally’s home and th
e house to her right. Both were gone, s
et aflame by firemen to kill the infestation that
w
as out of control.

And what of the ants?

The hole was filled in, paved again, and with the exception of the two new vacant lots, and scattered ‘for sale’ signs, Bret’s street was back to normal.

Though the consensus was t
hat Bret needed to get home and get
some
rest, such was not the case. She insisted she had enough rest
while
quarantine
d
, but
she desired good food
and computer access.

That was until Jesse warned her about her email. Days without checking, and a message sent out to the Christian listeners of Bret’s show brought nearly 3,000 emails of well
-
wishes and prayers her way. Everyone in the family volunteered to pitch in and help reply to those emails.

But Bret first. Settled with a cup of coffee, Bret opened her email. The most recent of which was bold and top. One from Darius.

“What’s he want?” she asked aloud.

“What was that?” Jesse called from the kitchen.

“Darius sent me an email.”

“Wh
o?”

“N
o one. Some guy from quarantine,” s
he said and clicked on the mail.

A thump-thump of his shoes brought Jesse to the dining room. “Why does some guy you were quarantined with feel the need to email you now? You just left him.”

“The sex was great.” Bret said.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, he wants to get together and have coffee when I meet Colin for lunch on Tuesday.”

“Who
’s
Colin?”

“Another guy from quarantine.”

“Bret, why.
…”

“Jesse.” She spun her chair to f
ace him. “They’re scientists. Okay
? I’m helping them with something.”

Jesse laughed and walked away.

Bret snarled, “Like that’s funny.” She shook her
head, returned to the computer
and replied, stating that she’d
like to have coffee and would bring the money he lent her.

Coffee bar latte in hand, Da
rius toted books under his arms;
they
,
of course
,
had papers
sticking
out. Over his shoulder was a book bag and he sipped
as he
walk
ed
down the corridor to his classroom.

“Morning
,
Professor Cobb.”

Darius gave a polite smile to each student that greeted
him
and to the three that waited outside his
classroom door. “Last I looked we still had close to half an hour until class,” he said as he
handed his coffee
and books
to a student. He lifted the key to his door and unlocked it. “Thanks.” He took his stuff back.

“Had to take the early bus.” Scott followed him into the class. “Don’t know about them. How are you feel
ing? Is it safe to come in here?
”

“Fine and yes,” Darius replied then walked down the step. He turned on
h
is computer before placing his armful of items down.

“Anything we can start on?” Scott asked.

“No Just relax. Talk.” Darius took another drink of his coffee, eyes glued to the computer.

“We should have known something was up with them bugs.” Scott sat down. “Dude, I could have been you.”

“Any of you could have.” Darius saw
the
‘ready’ screen and began to type. He was focused, and attention to the early birds in his classroom was just about nil.

He logged onto the Internet and then to his Harvard site. “Now let’s see,” he spoke softly to himself typing in his information. “What is this?” he asked of the line that read ‘URGENT’, and then he clicked on it.

L
ike Darius, Colin arrived
early
to his classroom. He had a lot to catch up on.

“Dr. Reye, how are you, s
ir?” Roger, an intelligen
t, less-than-attractive
boy approached the desk holding a box.

“Fine, thank you.”

“I heard you were ill.”

Colin glanced up from his work. “Yes, I was.”

“What was wrong?”

“Brain tumor. Very sad. Deadly. They got it though.”

“Whoa.”

“Yes.” Colin returned to his work.

“I was camping and found some specimens, I was wondering if you could look at them.”

“Wouldn’t be much of an educator if I didn’t encoura
ge you to find out for yourself,
n
ow would I?”

“Yeah, but I looked,” Roger said. “I can’t find them. Can you?” he reach
ed into the box. “This one here.
…”

Colin’s cell phone rang.

“Your phone is ringing,” Roger said.

“Yes, I know.” Colin lifted it. “Hey, Dare-Dare. What’s up?”

Roger extended the fist
-
size
d
geological specimen to Colin.

“Are you near a computer
?
Can you go online?
” Darius asked.

“Yes;
why?” Colin replied.

Again, Roger extended the sample
a bit
further. “Sir, if you can just
…
.”

Colin only raised his eyes then turned
back
to the computer. “I’m looking at my computer. What now?”

“Go where I tell y
ou,” Darius said and
proceeded to give the information to Colin.

Colin typed.

“Dr. Reye?” Roger called his attention.

Darius said, “Now my user name and password.”

“What am I looking up?”

“Are you in?” Darius asked.

“Yes.” Colin replied.

“Click on Urgent.”

“Done.” Colin said.

“Dr. Reye?”

“Hold on Dare-Dare.” Colin faced the boy.
“Can’t you see I’m on the phone?
”

“Well, yes, sir, but I thought I you could tell me quickly what this is, then I could research it before class.”

Grunting, Colin nodded. “I can.”

“And?” Roger asked.

“It’s a goddamn rock.” Colin spun his chair and when he did, he saw why Darius called. His eyes skimmed as he read. “Holy shit.”

“Exactly,” Dari
us commented. “Now the question:
Do I go or not go.”

Colin sat back in his chair and took in the words. “Go.”

“Reading about it, worrying about it, isn’t going to do you any good,” Jesse told Bret while getting ready for the funeral.

“But what if it happens?” she asked.

“Nothing is going to stop God’s end, Bret. If there was something that could do it, don’t you think there would have
been a little mention of it in the Bible?
”

“Yeah, the chosen.
…”

“
Bret, stop.” He took the Bible out of her hands.
“God’s not ending the world.”

“I didn’t say he was.”

“Enough. For today
…
enough.”

She simply nodded, promising to place it out of her mind.

She shouldn’t have. The Biblical ramifications of all that was happening should have been forefront
; if
they
were,
Buster’s funeral would not have been one of the most difficult experiences of her life.

Her eldest son
Perry stayed in the car, appearing out of respect, but d
eclining because the thought of a little baby in a coffin was too much to bear.

Luke didn’t handle things well at all. Buster was
a
toy to him, and he babysat and played with the toddler often to help Sally. Luke also went to school with Buster’s big brother.

Casper and Andi went with
Buster’s sister. They were a
ll connected somehow, and it hit Bret’s family extremely hard.

Silence in a packed family automob
ile was usually an impossible objective
. Not that day. Bret was ill
-
prepared for what she’d face. They had both Sally and Buster’s coffin
s
in the same room, and she just couldn’t handle seeing that tiny coffin. A tradition in Pittsburgh is an open casket. However, in the case of Sally and Buster, both lids were closed.

Jesse stayed in
the doorway of the funeral home
and spoke to Sally’s children who were holding up remarkably well. Not John, Sally’s husband. John was drunk. The smell of bourbon was strong on his breath as he greeted peopl
e. He hid his intoxication well; it
only bec
ame
slightly evident once the funeral was over.

Bret joined him in a few drinks. Seeing photos of Sally and Buster br
ought back memories of that day, m
emories that only she had. It didn’t dawn on her until she and John sat on the back porch of his mother’s house.

People were mingling, eating, talking.

“What was her mood? What was she doing?”
John asked. “Was she happy, sad?
Did she bitch about me?”

“No. Sally was in a good mood. She said Jes
se looked like the bug guy. And.
…” Bret chuckled. “She said they both looked like rapist
s
.”

“You’re kidding.
”

“Nope. Then a few
comments were made, and Buster.
…” Bret sniffled. “He repeated something he heard. He told the bug guy I was going to have sex with him.”

John laughed. “He was something, wasn’t he?”

“I never met a child like him.”

“I keep thinking he’s alive. He’s gonna show up. We never could find him when he wandered.”

“I still think
our
neighbor Bill took him and moved him about.”

“I thought that too.” John s
aid. “I miss them. Do you think…
do you think they
suffered?
”

“No.” Bret replied. “That pit was so thick
with ants;
I think they both went fast.”

“If you c
ould
have seen what was left of them.
…” He paused. “Bret, the ants ate them.”

She closed her eyes.

“Ate them?” He chuckled in disbelief. “I didn’t think ants were carnivorous.”

“They aren’t by nature. Some are though.”

“What’s next?
” He sho
ok his head. “Something is up, s
ome weird government experiment.”

That caught her attention. “Why do you say that?”

“They took you aw
ay and w
ouldn’t say anything. The m
ilitary came and got you. Why? You were there. You saw the cockroaches
,
h
ow many
there were
.”

“I also had nests in me.”

“Yeah, what if there was something about those nests that they had to keep secret.”

“I don’t think it’s the government, John.” Bret said. “It’s something, I don’t know what, but it’s not the government. If they’re guilty of anything, it’s hiding what they know.”

“Bugs are natural. What happened isn’t.”

Bret nodded her agreement.

He continued, “We
are
at war against Nature, Bret. My family suffered a casualty of that war.” He took in a silent moment and then, “Me and Sally fought that morning. I wanted to wait for my friend to fit us in, but she called that bug guy. My last words to my wife were that she was such a horrible housekeeper that the roaches were her doing and we were probably infested beyond belief.”

Bret sighed out. “She knew better.”

“I suppose.”

“You know we all have fights, John. We all say things we don’t mean.”

“I realize that. I loved her, Bret. Seventeen years I loved her. So make me a promise,
okay
?”

“Sure, what is it?” she asked.

“Never,
n
ever
let you
r
last words to Jesse be something you will regret. Even if he’s going
to the store, to the car, just
…. Promise that. Because you never know.” He gripped on to her hand. “You just never know.”

It was something out of a sci
-
fi movie. The television picture in Bret’s home looked as if an old foil antenna
were used
rather than the premium digital cable
she
and J
esse paid so much for
. She ha
d to work later on that evening
and sitting back relaxing was just not happening.

Jesse hit the cable box twice.

“What are you doing?” Bret asked.

“What the fuck is wrong with this picture. We have squiggle vision.”

Bret chuckled, “Squiggle vision?”

“Yeah, look at the picture.”

Bret winced when Jesse hit it again. “You think that smacking the box will do it.”

“Yeah.”

“Fine.” From her chair, Bret stood, stopped, and cocked her
head to the playful screams out
side. “What are they doing out there?”

“Seems the kids have the entire neighborhood in some demented game of release.”

“Why
are you calling it demented?
”

“Them screaming like that is demented.” Jesse raised his hand to hit the box again.

Bret grunted. “Do you think maybe it’s not the box but the signal
?
”

Jesse only looked at her.

“Maybe not.” With
the
full intention of going to get a cup of tea, Bret paused when there was a knock at her front door. “I’ll get it.”

“Thanks,” Jesse said focused on looking at the box.

“Chuck?” Bret said with surprise when she opened the door.

Chuck st
epped inside. “Did you know your
kids are running around in the dark screaming?”