“Black with a little cream, if I remember right,” Charlie said, placing a mug of coffee on the table next to her.
Maggie gave a “thanks” and then turned her attention back to the people at the bus stop. She saw a big, black SUV pull up next to them. Maggie noticed its black-tinted windows and counted six different radio-type antennas sprouting from its roof.
Red sweat suit guy approached the driver’s door. The SUV was between Maggie and the man so she couldn’t see the occupants. But she could see that red sweat suit was being told something by the driver. The man began shaking his head, as if irritated, and as the vehicle pulled away, he turned and kicked his gym bag across the sidewalk. He began talking to the other people at the bus stop and then, picking up his bag, began to walk down the street. Maggie sipped her coffee, watching the others slowly disperse, until the bus stop sat empty. A loud thumping began, the distinct sound of a military helicopter’s rotator blades cutting through the air. Charlie walked over to the window and stood next to her, their eyes scanning the sky as the sounds came closer. Suddenly they came into view, a flight of four Black Hawk helicopters flying in perfect formation just above the trees. Just as quickly as they appeared, the four heavily armed machines crossed out of sight behind some trees.
Maggie and Charlie both sat silently for a moment before Maggie spoke. “Are we at war Charlie?” she said, sitting back and crossing her arms.
Charlie took a sip of coffee from his mug, which sported a big US Army Rangers logo. He sat, thinking. Maggie felt it was time for her to stop throwing questions at her friend and let him come up with some answers. Maggie knew Charlie well enough and was aware of his thought process. The military man in him was assessing the situation, putting the pieces of the puzzle together. Maggie understood all too well. Her father was a retired navy officer. As a SEAL, he had led men in combat in Vietnam and later during the invasion of Grenada. Throughout the years of her childhood, her father had always had the same philosophy. “Get the facts, remain calm and make a quick, prudent decision,” he had instructed Maggie a thousand times. Charlie was doing the same thing now.
“It’s something big Maggie, that I can assure you,” Charlie said, his tone serious. “My first thought was a government coup. That can’t be right because President Barakat is addressing the nation at noon, so that means he’s still in power.”
“How does the nightmare we witnessed last night play into all of this?” Maggie asked, shaking the spoon from her coffee cup at him.
“Historically, whenever there is an overthrow of a government or a grab for power,” Charlie began to explain, “the first thing that is done is to seize and control the media. That way whoever is taking power can limit the news and information the citizens receive. Last night was a warning to us, the media, that this is a whole new playing field, and the government isn’t fooling around.”
Maggie began to nod her head in agreement. “I had a teacher in high school,” Maggie said, folding her arms, “who said to worry about anyone or any group who doesn’t like the media or who wants to censor it.”
“Your teacher was right on the money,” Charlie began to say, when someone began pounding on the apartment door. Maggie and Charlie stared across the table at one another. The pounding grew louder and Charlie, pushing away from the table, headed for the door, Maggie close behind.
It seemed as if the person knocking was determined to bring down the door, threshold and all. Charlie had just turned the knob and was trying to crack the door to peak out, when it suddenly burst inward, shoving Charlie aside and almost knocking him off his feet. A black, female police captain stood panting above Charlie. She quickly scanned the room, stared at Maggie for a moment, and then turned to quickly shut and lock the door behind her.
“What the hell, Shade!” Charlie snapped. “You almost knocked me on my ass.” The policewoman ignored Charlie. She moved toward the window, peeked out, and looked both directions as if she thought someone was following her. Then she quickly grabbed the heavy cloth curtains and pulled them shut. Standing beside the window, she rested her back against the wall, eyes closed, catching her breath.
Maggie’s mind was racing as she noticed Shade’s bizarre, paranoid behavior. Shade could get wound up but was typically afraid of nothing. Maggie and Shade had often sat together at the hospital when Charlie’s wife was in the Intensive Care Unit.
When Charlie was growing up, his parents were missionaries traveling to some of the unknown parts of the Third World, including countries in Asia, Africa, and South America. Charlie was a little boy when they traveled to Nigeria to perform work for their church. His parents had returned home from the African nation with two reminders of their trip – Malaria and his new baby sister, Shade.
Events had been put into place weeks before Charlie and his parents stepped foot on the African continent. An aging priest, the spiritual leader of the jungle region, had rescued the sick and malnourished Shade from a village devastated by the deadly Ebola virus. Other nearby villagers had alerted Father Russo of the epidemic and even led him within sight of the huts and outbuildings. However, none would come near. In the same manner their fathers and forefathers had prevented the spread of disease outbreaks, they had sealed off all paths to the village with piles of logs and then set fire to the brush and trees outside the hamlet. A scorched-earth policy had always worked in the past, so they continued it into the present.
Father Russo had squeezed through an opening in the logs that the local men had created just for him. He had barely stepped through it when a noise made him look over his shoulder. The passageway was already being sealed behind him. The village was only three hundred feet away. A small haze of smoke from the brush fires encircling the village made it difficult to see. Father Russo wondered which saint he should pray to when facing a deadly disease zone. He continued to walk forward and remembered the square cloth surgical mask a nun had placed in his hand as he had left the mission. He dug it out of his pocket and tied it over his mouth and nose, not really knowing if it provided much or any protection from the invisible germs ahead.
As he neared the village, Father Russo saw the first line of bodies lying in a neat row near the dirt path as he entered the maze of run-down buildings. Smoke rose from them and the odor of burning flesh assaulted his senses. Someone, at some point in the early outbreak of the disease, had tried to burn the bodies of the dead. The priest quickly crossed himself and walked beside a rough, wooden picket fence and into the heart of the village. He came to an abrupt stop, taking in the sight before him. For a moment he stood silent. The priest tried not to think about the vultures that fluttered overhead. It was as if everything in the priest’s world had suddenly come to a stop. He heard dogs barking in the distance, fighting over something.
Father Russo placed a hand over his cloth mask and looking right to left, estimated a hundred bloated bodies lying in the sun. As his hearing suddenly returned, Father Russo became aware of the din of millions of flies whirling around the bodies like a gray cloud. Sickened by the nightmare scene before him, Father Russo slowly began to back away down the path he had just come. He turned and began to walk faster away from the bodies, when he heard the cries of a baby. He stopped, trying not to breathe in the death-filled air around him. He stood silently listening . . . nothing. He began to take a step when he heard it again, the unmistakable sound of an infant. Father Russo began to look around him, and then his eyes settled on the open door of a cinder block shanty to his left. He walked to the entrance and tried to peer inside, but the small room was black and frightening, with the horrible smell of death emanating from within. As he finally gathered the courage to take a step inside, he saw the body of an older woman who sat with her back against the wall at the entrance.