Danica decided to skip her home breakfast on the morning of June 19 and head to work early. Accidents on her regular route and one of the alternates meant that delays were inevitable. She was about to lock the front door when she heard the telephone ring.
Let 'em leave a message, she thought, yet immediately after she was pushing the door back open. She hurried to the phone, an extra sense telling her it was an important call from Eddie or Bryce.
The first thing she heard on picking up was a sneeze.
"Gesundheit."
"Dani, it's me," Bryce said. His voice was distinctly nasal. "Eddie and I are in Braintree, and so is one hell of a germ. Anthrax maybe, or maybe not."
"How bad are you?"
"Feels like a nose cold. Sinuses, too. Eddie seems to have a chest cold. The family we're staying with mostly has full-blown flu, or something like it."
"Something like?"
"Dani, it's more than flu. It's got soldiers wearing resp . . . "
A second of harsh static, then silence.
"Bryce? Hello?"
The regular tone clicked back on.
Danica felt a cold wash of dread. Resp, she thought. Respirators . . . which film characters wear when there's a deadly germ.
She shuddered at the thought that she might never hear from Bryce again. And if they failed to contain this germ . . .
Worrying at home wasn't going to make Bryce or the other folks in Braintree well, Danica knew. She might as well head to work with all possible speed.
In the car, she selected an all-news station. Dafyold Tromm had just opened a new casino in Las Vegas despite reports that he'd overstated his wealth-to-debt ratio.
He's not the only gambler, Danica thought. Not by a long shot.