Outbreak: Boston (19 page)

The hours passed slowly, an uneasy tension hanging between the people keeping watch on the roof. Around noon Jean lugged a heavy cooler full of bottled water fresh from the refrigerator up the stairs. A couple people wandered over, mumbled thanks and helped themselves as she stretched a kink out of her spine. “Hey, Alex.” she asked as he came over to the cooler “what’s up?”

Alex opened the cooler, grabbed a bottle and cracked it open. “Those two hard headed kids.” he muttered after gulping down a couple big swallows of the cool liquid “Nobody wants to be up here with ‘em. They had a fight earlier and everybody’s scared shitless ‘cause they’ve been glaring at each other all morning. I think they’re all afraid somebody might start shooting.”

Jean laughed and looked at the man like he had just sprouted a second head. “You’re nuts. Amy and Adam?” she shook her head and looked at him anew. No second head presented itself. “What on earth happened?”

He shook his head. “The Airman there found out that their relations are probably holed up together somewhere.” Alex said quietly as he motioned towards the young woman standing at the far end of the building. “The jarhead wanted to rush off and grab them up. They got into an argument over what to do.”

“Blimey. Bloody kids.” Jean whispered as she scratched her head and looked at the sky. “Going to give me grey hair, the lot of them.” She gave Alex a sidelong glance. “More than I’ve already got.”

Alex laughed. “Listen, there’s gotta be something we can do.” he said quietly, scratching his chin as he started pacing slowly towards the edge of the building. “Everybody’s wound up tight, not just those two damn stupid kids.” He paused, a slow smile coming to his face. “Say, Jeanie ol’ girl, I think I just might have something.”

The morning of Specialist Kyle Moore’s memorial service was appropriately overcast with a slight chill in the air that promised rain. Since they did not have a body to bury there was no need to dig a grave but Josh nailed together a rough cross made from a couple pieces of scrap wood. Another one of the civilians, a woman named Terri Turner, stained it and carefully painted the dead man’s name and age on it. The cross would be stuck in the ground under an oak tree that grew near the school’s baseball diamond, as the young man had been an avid Red Sox fan.

Sergeant Barnes led Rodriguez (who hobbled on a pair of crutches out to the spot) and his other soldiers, PFC Bob Evans and Private Powers, to the tree. They stood at attention holding their rifles at port arms while the others came out of the school’s rear door and made their way across the field. Once everyone reached the graveside, Pastor Williams gave a brief sermon then asked for the assembled to bow their heads as she led them in prayer.

A statuesque young woman named Theresa opened a violin case at her feet and tucked the instrument under her chin as Sergeant Barnes cleared his throat and shouted “Specialist Francesca Rodriguez!”

“Here, Sergeant!” the woman at his left shouted in response.

“Private First Class Robert Evans!”

“Here, Sergeant!”

“Private Maxwell Power!”

“Here, Sergeant!”

“Specialist Kyle Moore!”

Silence…

“Specialist Kyle Moore!”

Again silence…

“Specialist Kyle Moore!”

When Theresa started playing Taps Amy, Adam and Jean saluted the wooden cross while those who were wearing hats removed their headgear. Some of them had tears in their eyes.

“Ready!” shouted Sergeant Barnes and the soldiers next to him charged their weapons. 

“Aim!” The soldiers pointed their weapons into the air.

“Fire!” The hammers clicked on empty chambers in unison. They had no blank ammunition and, out of respect for their new neighbors, the squad decided to not use live ammo and risk accidentally hurting someone. Sergeant Barnes issued the series of commands two more times.

When Theresa finished playing and put the violin back in its case Casey ended the service. Sergeant Barnes dismissed his soldiers after the mourners had left the graveside. Powers watched Rodriguez struggle along on her crutches out of the corner of his eye as they walked back to the school. She stumbled and almost fell when one of the crutches sunk into a soft spot in the turf and he pounced on the opportunity. He caught the woman and helped her steady herself. When he was reasonably sure she was not going to fall over, Powers bent and picked up her other crutch. Rodriguez snatched it back without a word, giving the man an acidic look over her shoulder as she limped her way across the field. Max looked after her helplessly.

Sergeant Barnes watched the scene unfold. “Don’t expect her to forgive you overnight, Private.” he advised as he loped past the man. “You could have gotten her killed because you got your feelings hurt.”

“Hell I know, Sarge.” Powers muttered under his breath. Sergeant Barnes could have sworn the kid sounded like he was going to cry. He did not look to see. “I wish I could take that back. I…I just got…hell, I dunno…”

“You acted like a damn fool is what you did, Powers.” Barnes picked up his pace, trying to put a little distance between him and the private. “Just ease off and give Rodriguez her space. She might come around eventually. And just so you know, pull any shit like that again and I’ll fucking kill you.”

Later that afternoon Jean and Alex put forward their idea while most of the school’s residents were eating their one meal a day. The move to cut back in order to conserve supplies was, to say the least, not helping anyone’s morale. “I think we should have a movie night.” Alex said as stood up and motioned towards the doors leading to the hall. “There’s a PowerPoint projector hooked up to a computer in the auditorium. Maybe we could even spread the word in town as kind of a thank you for letting us borrow their school for awhile.”

A murmur spread through the people gathered in the cafeteria. “What about food? We don’t have enough to waste. What if a bunch of people show up?”

“We’ve thought of that.” said Jean as she stood up beside Alex. “We have two showings of the movie, one in the afternoon and the other at night so the people on guard duty don’t get left out. We only fire up the generator long enough to play the movie so we don’t use up any more petrol than we have to. Since the stoves run on gas they don’t need the generator and we can warm up the food everybody brings. We have a pot luck dinner.”

Josh grinned. “So I guess that really only leaves what we’re gonna watch first!” he said happily. “I’ve got my laptop in my backpack. There’s a bunch of movies on my hard drive…as long as nobody minds pirated stuff.”

That evening Jean wrote out a list of the movies that Josh had and a few others found squirreled away in the school’s library. The idea was that everyone would have two days to make a check mark next to the movie they wanted to see first and then at noon and ten o’clock at night on the seventeenth the chosen movie would be shown. The whole idea hinged on the honor system and, if it was a hit, would happen once a week on Sunday (weather and fuel supplies permitting, of course).

The voting concluded and soon the promised day rolled around. Josh estimated that five or six families had come from town to fill up the middle rows of the auditorium. He smiled nervously from the wings of the stage at the audience. He covered his mouth and let out a deliciously meaty burp: their guests brought venison and real fresh vegetables that, when combined with some rice, cans of tomatoes and broth, turned into an amazing stew. After a deep breath he plunged out onto the middle of the stage. “Good afternoon, everybody!” he said with a wide smile, getting wild applause from the audience. Josh felt like one of those cheesy late night talk show hosts but he pressed on anyway. “Glad to see everybody. Thanks to everybody for bringing some food and stuff to share. No offense meant, but that was the best meal I’ve had in awhile!”

Everyone gave each other another round of applause. “Anyway, without much further ado, start the movie.” He hopped down from the stage and took a seat beside Dana. Josh put his arm around the woman’s shoulders a few moments after that, smiling as she squirmed into a more comfortable position against his chest. “This is so awesome. I missed catching
Iron Man
at the theaters!”

Francesca sat near the back of the crowd with Eamon, trying to concentrate on the movie. Her eyes kept darting towards Fatima, the Arab woman that was staying at the school with them. She blinked and took a few deep breaths, trying to relax.
She knew she was being stupid and probably more than a little racist like the store employees that followed her around all the time but she just could not help it. Rodriguez frowned at herself then turned her attention back to the screen and watched Robert Downey Jr. making small talk with some soldiers in the back of a Humvee. She laughed at his clumsy attempt to flatter the single female soldier…and then bullets riddled the vehicle.

It felt like there was a heavy lead weight on her chest, crushing the air out of her lungs. Francesca’s fingers gripped the armrests so tightly her that her fingers ached as she struggled to catch her breath. On screen, Mr. Downey Jr. was bleeding from a handful of shrapnel wounds, ruining his crisp white shirt. “I…I gotta u-use the latrine.” she told Eamon as she stumbled to her feet and started toward the door as fast as she could manage. Rodriguez pushed her way through the doors and, once she was out of the auditorium, sprinted towards the front doors of the school. She slid down the wall near the door and sat with her head in her hands, frantically trying to catch her breath as she sat in the shade. Rodriguez felt like she was having a heart attack.

“Are you okay?” the Zoomie, Frays, asked from her hiding spot in the corner on the other side of the doors. There was a look of genuine concern on the woman’s face as she took a couple steps closer, the cigarette seemingly forgotten in her hand. “Do you need me to go get Eamon?”

“N-no.” Francesca gasped as once she had enough air in her lungs to speak. “I…just…get panic attacks sometimes.” Rodriguez sputtered and rested her elbows on her knees. She pressed her back against the cool brick wall and rubbed her forehead in small circles with the palms of her hands. “Stupid movie.”

“Why do you think I needed a cigarette?” Amy asked quietly. Francesca could hear the woman’s sarcastic little grin. When Rodriguez peered between her fingers at Frays she saw that the Zoomie was holding out a pack of Marlboros. Rodriguez smiled and held her hands out to catch the cigarettes. “And don’t blame me. I voted for
The Princess Bride
.”

“Where were you?” Francesca asked once she had lit up. She concentrated on blowing smoke rings and watched them drift up to the top of the entryway. “I was at Camp Victory, Afghanistan.”

Frays smiled at the grunt’s efforts. “Camp Freedom, Iraq.” Amy frowned and tried to do it too but only succeeded in choking on the smoke that went up her nose and made her eyes burn. It made Rodriguez laugh though, so it was worth a little embarrassment in her book.

“The Duce and a Half I was in hit a IED.” Francesca said suddenly. She swallowed hard and shuddered as she took a drag on her cigarette. “We were going to a meet and greet at this little village to talk to the elders, get to know the locals, you know…standard shit. The route was supposed to be clear but…one minute we’re all smokin’ and jokin’ in the back the next…”

Rodriguez paused, choking on the memory. Frays crossed the entryway and sat down next to her, putting a reassuring hand on her arm “I-I was bleeding all over the place. The doctors at Walter Reed said that they pulled some pieces of some of my friend’s SAPI plates out of my face. If the fragment that hit me here” she lifted her chin and pointed to the jagged scar on her throat after pausing to wipe a tear off her cheek with her thumb “had been just a couple millimeters either way I would have bled out before they got me out of the wreck.”

“That’s rough.” Frays said quietly. She rubbed Rodriguez’s shoulder, unsure of what else to say. Amy pursed her lips and took a deep breath, trying to decide if she wanted to talk more. “I was lucky I wasn’t hurt. Not serious anyway.” Frays said as a self deprecating look came to her face. “I was on my way to the chow hall with my roommate and my flight sergeant. Forgot my flash drive so I could stop by the computer center and email some stuff home and next thing I know my connex explodes in my face.
Everything abnormal one second the next I’m looking up at the sky, my ears ringing and I’m wondering why my arms and legs don’t work.

“I was far enough away tha
t it just knocked me on my butt. I actually think I got knocked out for a second or two. We all thought it was an incoming mortar but it turns out that this contractor on the FOB had a AD with a rocket propelled grenade. The worst part? When I was at the medics the guys next door put a video up on the internet of what was left of our place. Scared my parents half to death when they saw it.”

Rodriguez could not help but chuckle. “Sorry. It’s not funny. What happened to the contractor?” she asked. Frays was glad to see a somewhat amused little smile creeping onto the other woman’s face.

“I think he got transferred.” Amy said quietly. She sniggered, remembering the quiet fury that came over Sergeant Emery when he found out. “Probably to keep him the heck away from my flight sergeant. He was a friggin’ giant that used to play professional hockey. He hated those mercs worse than just about anybody except the bad guys.”

Amy frowned and took the last drag off of her cigarette then ground out the cherry on the cement. “Gotta use the latrine. Be right back.” Frays said as she gave Francesca’s shoulder a pat before going back into the auditorium and slipping into a seat behind Eamon. “I think Rodriguez really needs you right now. She’s by the front door.”