Apocalypse Atlanta (13 page)

“Oh I know, but I wanna hear about it before I make a run at her.” Pinky said, still grinning.

“That ain’t a good idea cuz.”

Pinky eyed him.  “What, she got a dick?”

Darryl snorted, glancing over his shoulder.  One of the brothers in his club was still dealing with that from two years ago, when he’d hooked up with, what he’d thought was, a woman at a rave downtown.  When they’d gotten back to his place though, the woman had turned out to be a transvestite.  “Naw man, but she crazy.”

“Crazy good?” Pinky asked.

“Naw, crazy whack.  Girlie woke up ‘bout an hour ago, came at me.  Didn’t say nothing, no screaming or anything, just tried to get her hands on me.”

“Shit, for real?”

“Word.  And broke two doors in my pad, and put a big dent in the front too.” Darryl confirmed, taking another drink.

“Shiiiit.  So where she is?” Pinky asked, his grin fading slightly.

“Po-lice got her.  And get this, she bit one of them cops, bit him right in the arm.”

“Damn.”

“They carried her out butt naked in handcuffs, and she still trying to bite ‘em the whole time.”

“Man, that one on the house then.” Pinky said with a shake of his head as he flicked his eyes at the glass in Darryl’s hands.  “You gotta go to court?”

“Dunno.” Darryl shrugged.  “But if I do, just to witness.  Got CP to call it in for me, got some friendly cops over to take care of it.”

“Guess she ain’t hot enough for that shit then.” Pinky said with a sigh.  “And she was so fine too.”

“Girlie ain’t fine enough to put up with getting bit.” Darryl said with another shrug.  “Yo, I’m gonna go talk with the brothers.  Hook me up with a plate of nachos, big plate, all of it.”

“Yeah, sure.” Pinky said with a nod.

“Good looking out.” Darryl said, reaching out to bump fists with him.  He picked up his glass and turned for the pool tables as he heard Pinky hollering back into the kitchen.  Darryl wandered across the bar, stepped up onto the pool section, and claimed a stool on the wall.  After taking another drink, he set his beer down on the counter and dug his cigarettes out of his pocket.

“DJ, you looking a little fucked man.” one of the pool players said with a smirk as he lined up a shot.

Darryl looked at him with a flat expression as he tapped a cigarette out, stuck it in his mouth, then returned the pack to his pocket and pulled out his Zippo.  After lighting up and snapping the lid of the lighter closed, Darryl shook his head.  “Man, don’t even.”

“So how was she?”

Sighing, Darryl watched as the cue ball slammed into the four and sent it off at a sharp angle to drop into the side pocket.  “Last night, she fine.  Today, she whack.  Cops took her in.”

Exclamations of surprise and amusement sounded from the players, all of whom were his brothers in the club.  Darryl followed that by relating the story again, though he embellished it a bit more than the version he’d told to Pinky.  When he was done, he lit another cigarette and shook his head.  “Dunno what got into that girlie.  Meth I guess, maybe she needed her fix to act right.”

“What you gonna tell the O?” asked one of the players.

Darryl shrugged.  “Nothing I guess, ain’t my problem.  Ain’t like there ain’t enough girlies for the stages anyhow.  Listen, Big Chief, what you got going on Monday day?”

Big Chief, the one who’d greeted Darryl when he came over, shrugged as he watched Mack study the table.  “Not too much.  Thinking about taking a cruise up 75.”

“Hey, if you don’t, I could use you and your truck.  Need to get those doors in my pad replaced.”

Big Chief shrugged again.  “Gimmie a ring around noon, we’ll see.”

Darryl inclined his head, then turned as he caught movement on his left.  Shandrice was coming over with his nachos on her platter, along with another round of beers.  He suppressed a groan, though he was hungry.

“Hey DJ.” she said, giving him a wink as she easily balanced the platter one handed and set the plate of food down on the counter next to him.

“Hey girlie.” he said, giving her a grin he hoped was friendly without being inviting.  She’d been after him for months, and he knew it weren’t for no casual hookup either.  Shandrice was twenty-eight, afraid she was starting to fade a little physically, and had got it in her head it was time to get married and have a man around.

Trouble was, she was a clingy, controlling woman, and a lot of guys were put off by it, Darryl included.  She was sexy, but he didn’t need no girlie hooking into his life and running it for him.  No sir, not Darryl Jacobs.  Plus he knew too many guys who got married, then divorced, and ended up working two jobs just to pay off the alimony and child support bills they were loaded down with.

“You working tonight?” she continued as she set a fresh beer next to his half empty one.

“That’s the plan.” Darryl said, lifting his old glass and draining it.  She reached to take it from him, allowing her hands to linger on his as she gave him a look, and he had to suppress another groan.  He removed his hand and reached for his wallet.  She didn’t seem to take the hint, waiting while he pulled out a ten and a five and dropped them on her tray.

“I was thinking about coming by when I get off.” Shandrice said.

“Sure, but you’ll be sitting alone.” Darryl said as he put the wallet in his back pocket and grabbed the plate of nachos.  “Man don’t like us fucking off when we on shift.”  Which, while convenient, was also true; Aaron Booth, the night manager at the Oasis, wanted everyone working to keep the club making money, not goofing off.

Darryl liked the job, getting paid for being polite and looking tough while keeping the place calm and incident free was the best gig he’d ever had, and it paid good.  He’d worked there for five years now, and had no intention of screwing a good thing up.  Plus the scenery at the strip club was excellent.  If you had to stand around for eight or ten hours a night, better to do it with a lot of sexy flesh around to watch.

“They don’t give you breaks?” she asked.

“Yeah, but we gotta take ’em in the back.”

“Shandrice, leave my man be.” Bobo said from two tables away.  “We thirsty.”

Darryl shot Bobo a grateful look as the waitress turned.  He could tell by the set of her shoulders she was annoyed at the older biker, but she sauntered over and started unloading beers onto the edges of the tables.  While his brothers distracted her and claimed their fresh beers, Darryl dug into his food hungrily.

The nachos were good here, especially when you got them loaded like these were.  Thick cut chips, fried fresh and sprinkled with two kinds of grated cheese, none of that tasteless cheese sauce crap a lot of places used.  Ground beef and shredded chicken next, then more cheese, and topped with pico de gallo, guacamole and sour cream.

Darryl shoveled them into his mouth hungrily, crunching his way through the plate.  He was still in pretty good shape, though he’d put on ten or fifteen pounds since his college days when he’d been trying to land a spot on the basketball team.  It took a lot of food to fuel his frame, which, so far, was still letting him not worry to much about how he ate.

He had packed away most of the nachos when a droning beep-beep caught his attention, causing him to look up.  The televisions mounted up near the ceiling of the bar in various locations were all showing black screens with white lettering that read Emergency Alert System.  Boos and curses erupted from the bar, mostly the Dark Dogz bikers, since the alert was interrupting the ball games and music videos the televisions had been showing.

“What the fuck they doing, running a test in the middle of the damn day?” groused one of the pool players, shaking his head as he walked around the table and considered his next shot.

Darryl’s attention focused on Bobo, who was looking at the nearest screen with a curious look on his face.  “That ain’t no test.” the biker had time to say before the beeps stopped and a man’s voice came over the speakers, sounding from every television in the bar.

“The Centers for Disease Control has issued a Health Alert for the metropolitan Atlanta area.  A Health Alert denotes a medical or biohazard condition of the highest importance that affects the designated area or areas.”

“What the fuck?” Darryl muttered, echoing a number of others, as more people left off whatever they were doing and turned to look at the televisions.  The message was repeating, even as it scrolled in text form across the screen.  After the second time, there was a burst of static, then a different voice, still male, started speaking.

“Due to current events, the CDC is, and is instructing all medical facilities to be on heightened alert status to monitor for a unusual disease pattern associated with today’s events.  The origin of this disease pattern has not been determined, but may be a result of chemical or biological agents.  This Alert applies to the entire metro region, including all surrounding suburbs and counties.  The CDC recommends all citizens remain aware of the following symptoms of this unknown disease.

“The symptoms are disorientation; confusion; a lack of awareness or acknowledgement of surroundings or communication; pale or cold skin; lividity, or discoloration of lower limbs and extremities; lack of motor coordination; and aggression.  Victims suffering from this unknown medical hazard are to be considered a danger to themselves and others.

“Should you know, or see, someone displaying these symptoms, please contact the CDC or the nearest medical facility, immediately.  If you are unsure who to contact, please use the 911 Emergency system so they can best direct your call.  Do not approach victims if it can be avoided.

“To better facilitate the response to this Health Alert, all citizens are encouraged to avoid using the phone unless absolutely necessary, so as to keep lines open for authorities and first-line responders.  More information will be released as it becomes available.  Message repeats.”

Darryl watched as the text of the message scrolled across the screen, just above a pair of blinking lines that continually displayed a phone number labeled as the CDC Hotline, and an email address and website URL that both ended with dot gov.  There was a moment of silence, then the burst of static sounded again before the same voice began repeating the message.

“What’s up with that?” Low asked, looking away from the television.

Darryl didn’t say anything, thinking of Bethany, and how a lot of what the message was saying seemed to describe her.  He caught Bobo studying him, and set his plate with the remaining nachos aside.  The older biker looked at him for a moment longer, then turned and raised his voice.

“Yo, Pinky!  Gimmie one of them remotes.”

Darryl looked at the bar, where Pinky was turning from the television above the mirror behind the bar.  The bartender looked confused, and he opened his mouth to say something, but Bobo cut him off.

“The goddamn teevee remote, give it to me.” he said, dropping his pool cue and walking toward the bar.

“Yeah, sure.” Pinky said after a moment, reaching under the bar.  His hand came out with a plastic television remote, which he held out to Bobo.  The biker took it, and stood at the bar, pointing it at the television as he pushed buttons.  Darryl watched the television switch to one of the local stations, then flip through some others in rapid succession.  They were all showing the same black EAS screen, with the same message.

“It ain’t gonna show anything else until the cable company stop the EAS feed.” Pinky offered after a moment.

“Yeah.” Bobo said slowly, leaving the channel on one of the local stations and keeping the remote in his hand as he waited.  The message finally ended, and the EAS beeps started sounding again.  Then the screen blinked to solid black, flickered for a few seconds, and stabilized on a newscast.

Bobo immediately pointed the remote back at the screen and raised the volume.  Darryl started to walk over, followed by a few others, but Bobo spoke without turning away from the television over the bar.

“Turn those other screens the fuck off.” he commanded, and Darryl found himself changing direction in automatic obedience as he reached up to slap the power button on one of the televisions in the pool area.  It went dark, followed over the next few seconds by the others in the bar as people hit the buttons.  A moment later, the only sound was that of the local NBC affiliate’s daytime news anchor’s voice.

“–are becoming overwhelmed all over the metro area.  Eleven Alive has spoken with officials in Clayton, Cobb, DeKalb, Fayette, Fulton, Gwinnett and Henry counties, and they’re saying their emergency responders are not only tapped out at full capacity, but that they’re calling in off duty and trained volunteer personnel to help bolster their responses.  We’re working on contacting officials in other metro area counties, but have no statements to give you at this time.”

“This shit for real?” asked Shooter.

“Shut up.” Bobo said, still without looking away from the television.

“The first notice of problems apparently started in school and college campuses across the city.” the anchor was saying.  “Around eleven am this morning, students started acting quote strangely unquote, with reports of some of the affected students being aggressive even as they seemed completely unresponsive to any attempts to talk with them.  When medical responders began arriving at the scenes, they found chaotic and panicked situations as teachers and unaffected students struggled with or fled from the victims.