The Chosen: The Anomaly, #4

By Loyd Gardner

The world is in shambles and it is time for the anomaly to be revealed. But will it signal a beginning or an end? This fourth and penultimate book of The Anomaly Series continues the story of Gary Richardson, a young scientist whose discovery has unleashed chaos on North America and brought fear to the world, and Cherie Chandler who must continue to keep him, grounded.  

• Language: English
• Publisher: Loyd Gardner
• Release date: Feb 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224059300

Loyd Gardner

Loyd Gardner has lived and worked throughout the world and uses that experience to create unusual stories with unusual characters in unusual situations. While he focuses on speculative fiction, his work includes aspects of psycholigical thrillers and the supernatural. The Anomaly Series, which starts with Invisible Threads is a series of four novels which are complete and will be published throughout 2023 and 2024. Loyd has also published a series of ten novella-length Scooby Doo fan fiction stories at www.fanfiction.net as glide10001. These stories approach the Scooby Doo Gang as they are now adults and dealing with real-world financial and relationship issues while still solving mysteries.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

You Are Now Leaving Champaign, Illinois

Drive Safely

The sign whizzed past the windshield as Gary let the passenger seat down and tried to get his neck and back muscles to relax. Cherie was driving which meant that sleep was not an option. She would want to talk.

We need to go over a few things.

And they were off. Like what?

Like this Daniel Massey character. He has money and money is good. But do we trust him?

No.

That is correct. So, when he starts trying to push us around and do things his way, we push back.

We?

I push back and you don’t get in my way. Next question, do we trust the FBI lady?

Apparently, this conversation was a pop quiz. No.

Also correct. She wants to throw us, and especially you, in jail. Which we do not want until after you’ve saved the world.

If I can save the world.

You can, and will, save the world.

If I can’t?

Then you and I will have ended the human race.

Gary thought back to the seemingly long ago conversation with his college advisor, Dr. Lecki. In that conversation, Lecki had said that if he actually believed Gary’s claims, then he would be morally obligated to kill Gary immediately. The risk of a mistake was too great. If Lecki had followed through on that, the disease would not be here and Phang would be alive.

The quiz continued, Now, for Bill Reynolds. Do we trust Bill Reynolds?

We think Bill Reynolds is insane.

We don’t think... we know. He is looney tunes.

And last, the priest and the hot chick. Do we trust them?

They seem okay.

Maybe. Maybe not. Until you’ve saved the world, we watch them all. They can’t stop us from doing what we have to do.

Okay. Can I get some sleep now?

CHAPTER ONE

The disease had not wrought much change on the rural farmland areas of Illinois. March was the beginning of planting season and when it was planting season, farmers worked. Long days spent alone tilling and seeding were not impacted. Social activities and church attendance were down but during planting season there wasn’t much time for socializing and church-going in any year. There was work to be done. 

The increasing prices of fuel and fertilizer and seed caused heated arguments as the farmers tried to stretch their meager profits from the previous year and avoid borrowing any more from the bank than they had to. Maybe next year they wouldn’t have to borrow any. Always next year. Again, this was no different from any other year.

The huge agricultural corporations controlled their entire supply chain – either openly or through shadow agreements with other large corporations used to dodge potential monopoly claims. They also controlled most of the migrant jobs which were plentiful this time of year. But they also saw the teeth of the Government price controls being implemented during the emergency.

Bill Reynolds drove alone, dividing his already scant attention between the passing countryside and the back of Debbie’s car on the road ahead. His thoughts were on neither. Last night, he had sucked it up and called Emily. She had allowed him to speak with Ruth over the clear protestations of Rosemary, his mother-in-law, who was speaking loudly enough in the background to make sure he heard.

A real father doesn’t check-in on his daughter. He never leaves her in the first place on some crazy fool’s errand.

She was the one who used to like him. He didn’t even want to think about what Hayden, his father-in-law, was saying.

The conversation with his daughter was brutal. Ruth had asked When are you coming home, Daddy? And then she began to cry in response to his answer of Soon. The phone was removed from his daughter’s hand and then there was soft breathing. Emily was holding the phone to her ear and saying nothing.

He gave it his best shot, You know I love you two. Right?

I know you left. I know you’re putting yourself in danger. I know that you have twice promised me that you would stop this and come home and both times have turned out to be lies.

You don’t know how much is at stake.

Neither do you. You don’t know anything! You have some crazy theory that is being fed by this magician’s tricks and some people that are as crazy as you are. If you gave a shit about me or Ruth, you would be here now.

He heard Ruth’s crying turn into a wail as his wife’s voice rose. 

Rosemary’s voice sounded muffled, There, there, Baby. Everything will be all right. 

Then his daughter’s voice – wild, almost feral, No!  No!  NO-O-O-O-O-O-O-O! A tantrum. A wild, screaming tantrum like nothing she had ever done before. Then the sound of... struggling? Then something crashing.

What’s happening?

Emily’s voice, I’ve got to go.

The call ended. Total elapsed time – 58 seconds. Less than a minute. In the twelve hours and 15 minutes since the call had ended, he had replayed it in his mind 735 times. Each time reopening the wound again.

***

The crowd at Kankakee was larger than any they had seen in Champaign. Gary’s press conference got significant but short-lived air play on all news networks. The final sentence Please, I am begging you, stay alive went viral on the internet.  The media was out in force and the weight of their push against the stage nearly collapsed it causing the police to step in and establish a five-foot setback. They stayed one day and one night and then headed to Chicago.

***

Bill didn’t sleep for two nights after the call with his family and the day in Kankakee was long and hard, requiring miles of walking and being on his feet all day. A light but very cold rain had fallen on them through the middle of the afternoon. Not having yet fully recovered from the effects of his brief fight with the disease, he woke up on Monday morning bleary-eyed and weak.

He couldn’t drive so Cherie drove his car and pulled to the front of the line of vehicles as she knew the hotel address in Chicago from Daniel Massey, who was financing this venture, or whatever it was. She was followed by Gary also driving alone, then Cisco and Debbie, and Michaela followed up last with Bill trying to sleep in her passenger seat.

You look like death on toast. Michaela preferred quiet while she drove and never listened to the radio except during rush hour for traffic reports. But she was usually alone on the road and having a passenger sitting next to her made the silence uncomfortable. Also, there was more information to be ferreted out if she was to create a successful report.

He opened one eye. Thank you. Is that a new blouse, it looks lovely on you. The words were jocular, but the tone was dead.

You’re not sick or something, are you? She kept her voice calm but was still not convinced that Gary was actually curing anything.

Just had a bad couple of nights.

Trouble sleeping?

You could say that.

For a murder suspect or a radical mood shift, the first guess was always the same. How are your wife and daughter?

The long pause told her she had hit the mark.

How long have you been with the FBI?

The topic change was clumsy – possibly deliberately so – but she could be patient. 12 years.

Moved around a lot?

Nope. I’ve been in Vegas the entire time.

Is that usual?

There are different career paths. Some move around a lot and some stay in one place. The upwardly mobile ones moved around a lot but she sure as hell wasn’t going to volunteer that.

Exciting work?

Nope. Its information gathering and database riding. If you do the job well, you get to avoid the exciting stuff. Too much excitement leads to a short stay with the Bureau. They don’t like cowboys.

Isn’t some amount of being a cowboy needed to get the job done?

Maybe in local law enforcement. Not with the Bureau.

How are they different?

"Evaluation metrics. In local law enforcement, the primary evaluation metric is closing cases. The successful prosecution of the cases is secondary. With us, primary is successful prosecution and closing cases is secondary. So, we move more slowly and gather more information before making a move. Locals tend to make the arrest and let the DA’s office work out the details.

In addition, we have the ability to take our time and minimize risks before field ops. Usually, we catch people asleep in their beds and in no position to cause trouble or fight back. It’s not fair and we like it that way. It’s not a game."

Makes sense.

My turn. What made you stop being a preacher?

I don’t know.

Leading of the Holy Spirit?

Could be. But mainly I was fired, and the Board didn’t tell me why.

You have to have some idea.

I really don’t. Do you?

No. I found out you were terminated but there is nothing about why. We even conducted a couple of phone interviews. They clammed up.

Were you testing me to see if I would lie?

No, just making small talk.

Why do I doubt that?

Because you’re paranoid?

Sure. We’ll go with that.

The less than one hour drive from Kankakee to Chicago lulled the group into a sense of normalcy. But Chicago was unexpected.

As a lover of science fiction, Gary had seen many depictions of disease-based end of the world scenarios. They generally fell into two categories: empty urban streets with paper debris blowing across the screen or chaos with mobs of people looting and wreaking havoc. The reality that he saw around him was that the interstate was quieter than usual but not empty.

Gas stations were open although strict rules were posted regarding contact with the employees and the Covid era plastic screens had been replaced and augmented. As they drove in from the south on I-57, there was some traffic but not panic-stricken hoards clogging the main arteries trying to leave. Most of the traffic was comprised of tractor-trailer rigs and delivery trucks keeping the supply of commodities flowing.

The epidemic going nationwide limited FEMA’s ability to support retail business financially which had limited their control over some degree of profiteering. Price controls were put in place at the manufacturer/grower level but those controls had less and less impact as the products made their way through the system to the final point of sale.

In fairness to the business owners, some of these cost increases were the results of employees refusing to come to work without significant (4x and 5x) salary increases or daily bonuses. Government-owned utilities were the hardest hit as they had no mechanism to provide short-term salary boosts and many of their lower-level workers left for the greener pastures in the retail sector. FEMA funds focused on providing support to these utilities.

Those industries not directly necessary for food, shelter, or transportation - such as construction, large parts of retail, and entertainment - shut down. The economy-based critical occupation lists from Covid were pared way down. The new critical sectors were supply chain and utilities. All schools had been shut since the horrific videos from Champaign.

The result of all of this was an odd balance in the city as they descended from I-90 down to side streets just south of The Loop. The streets were again neither crowded nor empty. There was some evidence that looting was occurring but the traffic signals were working, the police were out, the El trains were running, and about a quarter of the stores were open for business.

Across urban North America, the people entered into a fortress mentality not seen during Covid, barricading themselves into safe spaces with people they trusted and only going out for food or when required to meet the demands of society.

The television entertainment and news media decided they were indispensable and therefore television programming continued with interruptions only to local non-news programs. Traffic reports were unnecessary. Churches initially returned to on-line services but the demand for a place of refuge in which the supplicants could launch their desperate prayers to God kept many doors open. Attendance was down but fervent.

Life went on. Slowed. Changed. Truncated. But it went on.

Daniel had texted Cherie with the location of their hotel. When she typed it into her map app on her phone, she was shocked to find that the hotel was overlooking Grant Park near Soldier Field. An idea of heading up to Evanston to check in on her friends passed through her mind but was rejected. There was too much to do here. She had to fix this.

Her map app took her up Lakeshore Drive until they found the hotel. As she had guessed, it was very high end. The caravan pulled off onto the side streets and wound their way to the loading/ unloading zone in front of the lobby entrance. Their four cars were too many for the compressed drive and Michaela’s car stuck out into the side street. She waited a moment and realized that there was not going to be any traffic. So, she and Bill got out, locked the car, and headed in with the rest.

As they entered the small but opulent lobby, Michaela caught up with Cherie. Are you sure this is the place? Seems pretty pricey.

Cherie did not answer, just gestured toward a man and a woman walking toward them.

Michaela recognized the man as Daniel Massey. She didn’t know the woman.

No one proffered their hand. If the human race survived this epidemic, the handshake would not. 

Michaela tilted her head slightly. Mr. Massey.

Daniel returned the gesture. Special Agent Jefferson.

Both proving that they had done some homework.

Cherie spoke for the first time, Nice digs.

Daniel looked around for Gary and spotted him halfway across the lobby seemingly intrigued with the working of the water fountain. Probably some physics thing. He turned back to Cherie.

I own enough of an interest in this hotel chain to get them to stay open. He stepped slightly aside and raised a hand toward the woman at his side. And this is my wife, Amy.

You brought your wife? Cherie’s tone was questioning with a hint of accusatory.

She’s also the head of Gary’s legal team. Is Gary really doing what the news reports say?

Cherie nodded and then asked, Do we need to check in?

No, that’s all taken care of. Everyone is on the second floor. Here are all the keys. The hotel has other guests but we are the only ones on the second floor except for the bus driver.

We have a bus?

Yes. A professional driver and a single vehicle minimizes chances for problems.

Sounds good to me.

Across the lobby Gary was, indeed, winding down from the solo drive by watching the different arcs of water being shot up by the fountain and trying to come up with a rough guess as to the horsepower required in the pump motors. It really wasn’t very much as the water arced up only about four feet and over about the same. When he had his guess, he converted it all to metric and did it again.

He didn’t hear the woman approach but he began to sense someone standing behind him. It was not surprising that it was not anyone from his group as they would have disturbed him rather than politely waiting. She was about forty, noticeably unattractive, and wearing a housecleaning staff uniform. Transitioning to the threads was automatic now and he immediately noted that the woman was infected. He healed her almost absent-mindedly.

Excuse me. She had an accent, Eastern European.

Yes?

You are the man that heals people?

Yes. You do not have the disease.

Are you sure?

Yes. I’m sure.

How do you know?

I can see it. You don’t have it. Do not touch anyone. If you do and feel a shock, come and find me and I will heal you.

As usual, he was surprised when she hugged him.

Cherie’s eyes suddenly de-focused off of Daniel and focused on something beyond his left side. What the hell?

Daniel turned and saw Gary with his hands to his sides being squeezed by one of the staff.

Hey, Gary! Cherie did not move but yelled across the lobby.

The housekeeper let go of Gary and turned with her face down, obviously flummoxed. She said something to Gary that Cherie could not make out and left the lobby hurriedly. 

Cherie raised both palms up. Anything I should know?

Gary was mildly non-plussed that Cherie was yelling across the room and didn’t understand the question. No. I don’t think so.

Now that Gary’s eyes were raised, he noted that the desk clerk was also infected. He dispatched the infection and walked back over to Cherie and Daniel. They were discussing a bus which seemed unimportant, so he interrupted.

Can we get the hotel staff all together at one time so that I can heal them?

Daniel nodded. Right. I should have thought of that. He turned and walked to the front desk.

So... Cherie had taken a position in front of him with her fists on her hips. ...looking to drum up some side action?

Gary had never been in a conversation which included the phrase ‘side action’ before, but he was able to parse out its meaning from context.

He looked around to make sure that no one was eavesdropping. How can there be side action if there’s no action?

She laughed. You can be funny. She turned and started distributing room assignments and keys.

He smiled as if he had intended the joke.

The staff was beginning to file into the lobby as Gary’s crew filed into the elevators. Cherie asked, Do you want me to hang out here or head on up to the room?

You can go ahead. This will only take a minute.

She handed him a keycard. We’re in 208.

It took a few minutes before the desk clerk declared that the entire staff was present. There were twelve in all. Gary recognized the woman he had just healed and saw that she was infected. He walked over to her.

I told you not to touch anybody.

I... how...

Because you are infected again.

But my daughter works here and she has baby. I must hold my grandbaby.

Where is the baby?

She is not here. It is against the rules.

Since this made no sense, the only logical assumption was that the woman was lying.

Gary stepped back and addressed the staff, You are all healed. If there is a baby here, it will die if you don’t take me to it right now.

Just as they all looked at the desk clerk, a muffled but very loud enfant’s scream came from the hallway behind them. Most of the staff then turned and looked at a young woman who bore a resemblance to the older woman to whom he had been talking. The younger woman sprinted from the room. Gary followed with the rest of the staff behind.

The young woman threw open a door marked ‘Employee’s Only’. Inside on the table was a small well-used basinet. The scream emanated from it. Also emanating from it to Gary’s eyes only was a bright red glow. Before even making it to the basinet, he dispatched the virus. The screaming continued. When he got to the table, he looked in to see the inside of the basinet was covered in blood. The baby’s skin was blistered and broken, mainly on the arms and shoulder. Blood was oozing out of a myriad of small wounds.

Mama!!!! The young mother looked to the older woman who was breathing heavily from the sprint down the hall. 

The older woman processed the scene quickly and saw the blood flowing over her daughter’s hands which were now wrapped around her infant granddaughter who she had swept up from the table with a mother’s nurturing instinct. The grandmother did not come directly to the table but made instead for the counter running along the wall. Gary stepped back to stay out of the way.

Other staff members stopped at the door and watched, whispering amongst themselves. Two or three were dialing their phones, probably 911. One was videoing. Gary watched the grandmother run to the counter and then saw the first aid kit mounted on the wall. The baby’s scream remained strong and loud. The virus was gone but the wounds looked bad, very bad.

The mother held the baby against her breast. Blood staining her uniform as the grandmother gently pulled the baby away and laid her on the table. She then began ripping open packages of antiseptic pads and placing them against the various wounds. No words were said but the mother held each in place after the grandmother placed them and kept a firm pressure. 

The baby continued to scream.

A rhythm began to form between the two women. Grandmother places a pad on a wound. Mother holds the pad in place while grandmother pulls bandage from the roll and wraps it around the arm or shoulder to hold it in place. They did not try to handle all of the wounds at once but worked in an arc starting near the baby’s left wrist and working their way over the shoulders and down to the right hand until all of the wounds were covered. It took less than a minute.

The child’s skin color had changed to a paler color. The screaming was losing energy, not subsiding but lessening as the baby’s energy reserves wore down.

The grandmother looked over at Gary. Does she have it?

No. Not anymore but I think she’s hurt really bad.

Another voice came from the door with a Latin accent, Bring her. I will drive you to the hospital.

Another voice and another accent, But the ambulance is on the way.

We will be at the hospital before they are here.

Another unspoken communication between the grandmother and the mother and the mother lifted the baby from the table and they ran from the room. Gary never saw them again and never knew whether the child lived.

The nine remaining staff were standing in the hallway. Their focus gone, they seemed confused as to what to do next. The desk clerk who was also the on duty manager wiped a tear from her cheek and called out, Everybody back to work.

Gary made his way up to the second floor and found 208. The door was propped open. Cherie was laying on the king size bed, the suitcases had not been opened. That took a long time.

It didn’t seem very long.

Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe I just suck at being alone with my thoughts. She looked very small laying in the middle of the huge bed.

He looked around the room. There was a small sofa that was way too short for him and an uncomfortable-looking reading chair. One bed. Again.

I’ve been thinking...  He paused a second, forming the words,. ...Superstar is over except for those extra shows we’re supposed to do.

Okay. Her voice was wary.

It seems silly to continue with this... His mind searched for a word that he had read but never spoken aloud before. ...pretense.

How do you mean?

The question threw him. His statement seemed obvious. He waited for her to give him more words. Something on which to find a context and understand what she was asking.

He stumbled forward, I mean, we’re alone on this floor with all these empty rooms. I could move into a different room and you could have a room to yourself and I could have one to myself. Then we just tell everyone the truth. I don’t think they would care.

No. They wouldn’t care.

Another silence. This one long and uncomfortable. He felt like he had said or done something wrong. Was she mad at him?

Cherie watched his discomfiture from the bed. Not mad, just deciding. There were two ways she could respond. Completely different but both equally true. She chose one.

The extra Superstar shows are still going to happen. Massey is going to pony up for serious research and labs and stuff. You are going to be famous and I am going to have a career in show business.

I think I’m already famous.

Shut up. You’re going to be famous and I am going to have a career in show business. I will work my way up as an assistant director and assistant producer and then maybe television director and then movie director and then I will be famous, too. That is my dream. Right now, dream equals hope. So, if I give up my dream...

He understood. Transitive property. ...you give up hope.

So, we are still going to get ready for life to start up again right where it left off.

Okay.

CHAPTER TWO

Bill Reynolds was alone in his hotel room with no good excuse to avoid calling his wife. 4:11pm stared at him from the face of the phone in his hand.

The call would be horrible like the last one. He didn’t want to make the call. The idea of hearing his wife’s icy tone and his daughter’s tears filled him with a palpable sense of dread. But he would make it. It was an obligation. He was a husband and a father. How many things did he do in the course of a lifetime that were obligations?

He pictured in his mind what returning to Las Vegas would be like. Returning to Hayden’s house and Hayden’s job would be impossible. Too much water had passed under that bridge. His relationship with his in-laws was irreparably destroyed. Moving back would mean finding a cheap apartment while he looked for a local job to get his feet back on the ground. Get himself established and then get Emily and Ruth to move in with him and then start the process of looking for another job and a new life as far from Vegas as possible.

But would Emily agree to that or was she another bridge that spanned the flow of too much water?

Unbidden, his mind took him in an alternate direction. This daydream saw him becoming a hero and returning to Las Vegas to a hero’s welcome. A parade. His wife begging to be let back into his embrace and his in-laws left out of their lives forever. This passed quickly. The daydream was juvenile. His time with Gary would not end in glory—more likely in ignominy.

A third potential future swam through his mind: Emily receiving the news of his death. His death defending his world... his family. In this imaginary world, she broke down in tears and screamed hatred and anger at the efforts at comfort from her parents. He watched her twisted by grief and guilt. Why had she not supported him... believed in him?

Then the daydream led him to the moment when she told Ruth that her father was dead. And then it all came to a screeching halt. His heart raced and he was hyperventilating. A second juvenile daydream. This one running aground on his love for his daughter. She was the innocent bystander. 

The phone was still in his hand.

He put the phone down and opened the drawer in the bedside table. It was empty. No Gideon’s Bible. Some hotels had ceased allowing the Gideons to place Bibles. Maybe this was one of them. But others were allowing it but requiring that the Bibles be placed in discrete locations.

He went to the desk against the wall and opened that drawer. Some undersized stationery and nothing else. He finally found the Bible on the third shelf in the closet and sat back down on the bed with it.

Turning to the front sheet he found what he was looking for. At the top of the page were the words ‘Help in time of need’.

There were various headings: Abuse, Addicted, Afraid, Anxiety...  34 different headings in all. For some reason, he counted them. Several applied. Afraid, Away from God, Bitter, Depressed, Desperate, Discouraged, Doubting God, Failing...

Failing.

Romans 8:31, 35, 38, and 39.

He turned to it and read.

31 What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?

35 Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?

38 For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39 neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. 

He read it again. Trying to let the powerful words wash over him and fill him as they had in the past. 

Nothing.

He did not feel protected or renewed or hopeful or strengthened. The words sat there, dead ink on paper—a bridge to nowhere. With nothing to emotionally or spiritually sustain him, Bill’s mind reviewed the last few minutes. He had daydreamed about resolution, revenge, and then finally about a loving, caring God who would hear and answer his prayers.

Daydreams. The last hopes of a desperate soul.

He felt broken and alone. Remembering something from a long past sermon, he began rifling through the Bible in his lap. Somewhere in Samuel. He turned pages and read and turned pages and read until he found it. 

5 When Saul saw the Philistine army, he was afraid; terror filled his heart. 6 He inquired of the Lord, but the Lord did not answer him by dreams or Urim or prophets. 7 Saul then said to his attendants, Find me a woman who is a medium, so I may go and inquire of her.

There is one in Endor, they said.

8 So Saul disguised himself, putting on other clothes, and at night he and two men went to the woman. Consult a spirit for me, he said, and bring up for me the one I name.

Saul, King of the Jews, got nothing from God.  So, he turned to a medium. The parallels were clear. 

Saul died the next day.

Bill put the phone aside. He had his excuse to put off calling Emily.

***

Debbie and Cisco had become masters at avoiding a certain topic. Being alone in the car for the drive up from Kankakee and then taking a cold walk through Grant Park to the Art Institute (it was closed) and back, had not quite brought that topic to elephant-in-the-room level, but it was a healthy hippopotamus on the front porch. As they walked through the park, they noted multiple signs advertising Gary’s being at Soldier Field starting tomorrow. The signs ranged from hand-painted and amateurish to professional quality which included close-up pictures of Gary from Champaign in a pose which looked oddly like a priest giving a benediction. Knowing Gary, he was more likely caught in the effort of trying to catch something tossed to him. 

Other odd signs that looked to be recently posted followed a single theme:

Don’t be a domino – Stay back!

Don’t be a domino – Don’t touch!

Don’t be a domino – You can’t help!

Don’t be a domino – Stay alive!

These signs were printed and clearly mass produced. But they were very simple using black, white, and red like street warning signs.

The signs about Gary and the domino signs created something to talk about and the hippopotamus topic at bay. But now, they were each trying to come up with an excuse to eat dinner separately.

They had already noted the children playing in the park around other kids but not with other kids. And young lovers walking side-by-side but not hand-in-hand. This last observation had prompted another uncomfortable pause as they skirted the edge of the topic.

Cisco’s phone rang. It was Daniel Massey asking where they were. This question confused Cisco as he had no idea how Massey got his phone number or why he would care where they were.

Daniel pressed, Will you be back in 15 minutes?

Sure, we’re about 5 minutes away but...

Good, come to the dining room. We’ll be having dinner together and going over our plans for tomorrow.

Okay but...

Thanks, see you in a few.

And the call was over.

Which gave them something else to talk about for the last five minutes of their walk.

***

The dinner was the first time that everyone including the Masseys were in one room at the same time. It was also boring.

Daniel Massey gave a PowerPoint presentation. Yes. A slideshow.

It included maps of Soldier Field and the vicinity parking with arrows showing the routes to be taken by the infected into the stadium and the cured out of the stadium and how the two groups were going to be separated all the way back to their cars or other transportation. The city was providing extra buses and separated bus stops so that there would be no mingling between the groups. Gloves were being handed out at the stadium to everyone who did not already have them.

There were cameras set up around the room and occasionally a question would come in from someone on-line. Daniel explained that these were members of his team and investors who were funding the effort.

A small army of security and event staff had been hired and were going to be at the stadium all night making sure everything was ready.

Debbie watched Bill Reynolds nod off a couple of times. The dark circles under his eyes indicated that he had not been sleeping well. She would talk with Cisco about that later. He seemed to be the only one in