"And you're positive you wanna cover this story, East?" The head of the newspaper asked her. He was confused by her staggered interest; one day she was completely psyched, then a few days later… not so much. Then she informed him of her father's disproval of her taking the story; but why would he care?
All the story consisted of was getting the details on the quarantine on Willamette, Colorado. There had been a deadly disease –that much was leaked– but the government covered up the event, and shut up every surviving witness. As far as they knew… The anonymous witness who had given the lone fact that the place was quarantined and government erased, they'd disappeared off of the face of the earth.
Jude clutched her folder close to her chest; the idea haunted and invited her. She knew she had to be ready. "I need to know exactly what happened in that nameless crap-hole of a town. Yes, I am sure." Of course, why would she want to know so badly? Some people got sick, big whoop. Why would the government care about this?
Her boss looked her up and down in some sort of evaluation of her readiness. "Alright, Jude, pack up your camera, laptop, and clothes: You're headed to Willamette." His final decision was based on one factor alone: No one else wanted the story, but her.
She smiled and patted him on the shoulder. The part of her that wanted the story was thrilled; the part of her that feared the story, the part that wanted nothing to do with it, however, was thrilled none at all.
She watched her father carefully as he took a sip of wine; she knew how he felt about the Willamette story, telling him would be no easy feat. "So what's the occasion?" He asked. "You never take me out without a reason."
"Well, Dad, it's sort of a celebration." She took a swig of her own wine, hoping he was happy and content with his food and drink.
"It is, is it? What are we celebrating; a man or a baby?" He laughed a raspy old laugh.
"Neither, you know better. I got a new story, a big one."
His eyes lit up "You got a war? You're turnin' out to be just like your old man after all."
"No Dad, not a war," She took a breath and looked into his deep brown eyes. "I took the Willamette story, Dad."
He set down his drink angrily. "I'm pretty sure I told you to stay away from that Willamette story. It's a dangerous topic that I don't want you involved in."
"Dad, listen," She placed both hands on the table. "I can take care of myself, really. Why can't you understand that? I'm not your naive little shithead teenager anymore. You can't box me up now, you never have before."
He drummed his fingers on the table. "Kiddo, I can't box you up, never could. I don't doubt your control, confidence, strength or anything." He stopped and looked away a moment before returning to her. "Don't be disappointed at what you find, or don't find."
Jude slurped up the hope of approval from her father. "So then you approve of me taking this story?"
"No, but I trust you enough to let you," He flashed her an old, worn out smile.
Jude smiled back, just happy he wasn't angry. "Love you, Daddy."
"Love you, too, Kiddo." he sighed. "Time to hit the dusty trail, I wanna see you off in the morning. What time are you leaving?"
"8:30, I want you at the helipad at eight o' clock sharp. Got it?"
"Got it, Judey," He smiled knowing he should go home and scavenger for his mushy heart-felt present.