Hot Zone (2 page)

I was watching TV (I know, I look down my nose at Meri because she plays computer games, but I am a TV addict, so have no right to act superior) when Eddy finally showed up at my door. As usual, he rapped once and let himself in. We never locked our door when it was daytime—I wasn’t even sure if my key worked. Eddy shucked his coat and tossed it accurately onto one of the hooks near the door. He came over and kissed the top of my head and flopped onto the sofa next to me. I assumed that our fight was over.

He called out a hello to Meri, who had a headset on and was talking to other gamers. She waved a hand distractedly at him and continued concentrating on her game. Eddy took my hand. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he said softly to me. I was suddenly sure whatever we had between us could work.

I smiled back at him. “Me too.” My voice was soft, but a little part of me was thinking that the whole fight had really been his fault, so I shouldn’t have to apologize, but it felt like an apologizing moment.

He squeezed my hand. “What are you watching?” he asked.

“CSI.” My favorite show, but I didn’t have to tell him that.

“I should have guessed,” he laughed. “Mind if I check the score on the game?” Before I could say that was fine—and I always said that was fine—he found the remote and changed the channel. I sighed inwardly. The trouble with being accommodating is that people started to take your agreeable nature for granted. Not that I was always agreeable—but I nearly always was with Eddy. I’m not sure when I had fallen into that pattern, but I was stuck in it now. Meri and Phil, along with other friends, laughed to see me with Eddy and secretly made bets on how long before I smacked him one. They’re hilarious, don’t you think? Yes, well, maybe I was channeling my mother because she was definitely on the deferential side with Dad. But Dad never pushed it, and really how well does anyone know his or her parents, anyway? At this point of my story they were still your average parents, and lived in the same house I had grown up in, a barn that had been converted into a house that overlooked the not-so-famous Catfish Lake.

Eddy was absorbed in the game within minutes, and I wondered whether I should go catch the last part of CSI on the little TV in my bedroom. The apartment had three tiny bedrooms, a large living room, and an eat-in kitchen. The rent was fair, considering that the previous tenants had beaten the hell out of the apartment. We had lived here for a few years now, and before that I had lived at home (doing the school thing). I decided that I shouldn’t put things (i.e. TV shows) over people (Eddy), so I kept my mouth shut and tried to figure out who was playing. It was basketball—not my favorite game, and professional basketball, so I was bored within minutes. I let my mind wander.

I wondered how Phil’s date was going. I idly thought about trying to get Dad to sell me their large TV now that they had bought a larger flat screen model. My mind drifted to my argument with Eddy the night before. It was really sort of strange. I had been going out with him for six months now, and thought I knew him pretty well. He wasn’t usually argumentative. He was actually a sweetie. Except for his remote control issues, he listened to me, he laughed easily, and wasn’t afraid to be affectionate. He was an electrician, which meant that he was able to support a family, if things ever went that far. He was a good guy. And why was I even thinking about this, anyway? I wondered. I should just be happy I had someone who cared about me and not look for reasons to be unhappy. As I decided this, I gave Eddy a kiss on the cheek and was rewarded by a sweet smile of surprise from him. He had dark hair and chocolate brown eyes, and was really good-looking. I needed to stop creating a problem where one didn’t exist.

“I’m going to make us a snack,” I announced. “Do you want anything specific?”

“Awesome,” he said with feeling, and I felt petty for thinking bad thoughts about him. “Anything would be great. I haven’t eaten since lunch.”

I sashayed into the kitchen, hoping he was watching, and began putting together a snack. I couldn’t say I was a gourmet cook, but I liked trying new recipes, and prided myself on always having something good on hand. I searched through the freezer and took out some little appetizers on cocktail rye that I had made the week before. I preheated the oven and looked through the cupboards as I switched on the mini TV that my parents had given me last Christmas. This was by far my favorite present since it allowed me to cook without missing any good shows (what did I tell you? Addicted.). It was tuned to CNN, and since CSI was over by now, I left it there.

Nothing too exciting. Brittany Spears had apparently found religion, and was petitioning again to get her kids back.
Yeah, whatever girlfriend
, I thought to myself. I put the food together and schlepped it back out for Eddy, feeling irritated that he didn’t even look at me as he took it and shoved the food in automatically. What a guy. I sighed and decided maybe I’d feel better if I had a beer.

Now just so you know, I’m not a big drinker, but I do love a cool brew. My parents educated me on wines, and Dad had some great ones at home downstairs in his “hidden” wine cellar. I’d probably disappointed them when I just liked beer. I’d recently bought a twelve pack, and brought out one for Eddy and Meri. The game ended (whew), and Phil returned with New Guy. They looked like they’d had a good enough time, and Phil was smiling and relaxed. She said they were going to a movie and had just stopped to say “hi” since they had some time, but we all drank some beers, and Meri got out Mom’s old
Trivial Pursuit
game (she’d bought the newest cards for it and had gone to my house yesterday to borrow the game from Mom—she was apparently not extravagant enough to buy the actual game board, too). We started playing, and before we knew it, they had missed the start of the movie, which necessitated more beers. Phil dug out a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, and we drank that as well (okay, Phil and Eddy and New Guy drank it, cause I still had a beer, you know?).

It was midnight when we heard planes scream by overhead.

We probably would have jumped up, startled, if we hadn’t all been drunk to one degree or another. As it was, I looked at the ceiling from my position on the floor. I was lying on the floor with my legs propped up on the wall, so I was pretty much looking at the ceiling in any case. I pointed, thinking how heavy my arm felt, and said, “What was that?”

Meri was looking through my iPod for something else to listen to; we had abandoned the game hours ago. She looked up, “What?”

Phil yawned, leaning against New Guy. “Sounded like a plane. Maybe one is crashing.” She slurred this so it sounded like “cashing.”

New Guy, who was the least buzzed, said, “That sounds military. Do you have a base around here?” Apparently New Guy hadn’t grown up here.

Meri shook her head, steadying herself against Eddy. “No base. I think there’s one closer to the Cities. We don’t have military planes fly near here.” This was all spoken in a soft slur.

I said in an ominous voice, “It’s an attack from the Planet Mars.”

Phil saluted, forgetting about the iPod and whacking herself on the forehead with it. I broke out laughing and kicked the wall.

Meri intoned, “Our far—fierce fighting men will take ‘em down.” Now Phil was laughing too while rubbing her head.

“Martians crap,” Eddy said. “It’s global warming.”

Phil brightened. “Yeah! A big world fart. That’s what it was!” She pointed at Chris, who was looking askance at her. “You know, that’s pretty much what Yellowstone National Park is—a big poot!”

I laughed harder. Meri said doggedly, “And our fur—fierce fighting men will take care of it.”

Phil shook her head. “You can’t just clean up global warming. It’s a fact sister. Button up your overcoat, ‘cause we’re on the highway to hell.”

“Highway to hell,” Eddy sang drunkenly, trying to sound like AC/DC.

Chris said, “How would the Army help with a gassy planet?”

Meri said, “Oh, they have those gas masks. Couldn’t they just strap one of those on the geyser, or whatever the gasses are coming out of?”

I wound down. “Not exactly the most practical plan.” I did like the mental image, however.

Suddenly I felt my stomach roll, which meant one of two things: I had just eaten a plate of fried oysters, or I had drunk a copious amount of liquor and was about to hurl. I sat up, mentally counting my beers. No way I had drunk enough for this. My stomach disagreed, and I barely noticed New Guy Chris dump Phil off him and run to the kitchen as I ran to the bathroom, hitting my shoulder on the doorframe on the way in. I dropped to my knees in front of the toilet and threw up until my stomach was empty.

I rested my suddenly sweating forehead on the toilet rim as I heard Eddy come to the bathroom. “You okay?” he asked in a rather annoyed voice.

“Yeah,” I said, but didn’t really mean it. I don’t think I’d ever feel so suddenly and violently ill in my whole life. Meri pushed Eddy out of the way and came in. “Oh, honey. How much did you drink?” She sounded more sober now.

“Not that much,” I said, glad she was concerned for me, even while I felt guilty for being trouble.

She put a hand to my forehead. “You’re not feverish, but who knows? Chris threw up too, almost at the same time. Maybe the wine was bad.”

“Didn’t have any,” I murmured as she gave me some water to rinse out my mouth.

The double vomiting pretty much ended the party for the night, and New Guy left looking just about as crappy as I felt. Eddy left too, even though Meri tried to take his keys until he sobered up. He was acting like I’d thrown up on purpose, and I felt too rotten to argue. Phil, however, told him to stop acting like an asshole, and he had pouted and stomped out. He only had a few blocks to drive anyway, I told myself.

Meri and Phil were sweet to me, putting me to bed and making me promise to call them if I felt bad again or needed anything. I got some ice next to my bed and an empty garbage can sitting on the floor, “just in case.” They were good friends, I reflected. Mom couldn’t have done better.

Chapter 2: The Bombs Bursting in Air

Now I’m going to fast-forward a little over one week. I felt fine by the next morning, and when I went into work the next day, I heard from several people who said there was a ‘flu bug going around. It was strange that Chris (aka New Guy) had thrown up at the same time I had, but then again, maybe he’d taken one look at my nauseous face and had gotten sick as well. Okay, that was a stretch, but weirder things had happened.

Nothing else exciting happened until over a week after the ‘hideous double vomiting,’ as Phil liked to call it. And even this first part wasn’t really exciting unless you were a fan of the Zoo, which I was. The animals, you see, were dying. This was on Tuesday I heard the story.

I had a yearly pass to the Zoo in the Cities, and went at least once every other month, even though it was a drive to get there. I loved watching the animals, and felt such a peaceful feeling every time I went that I sometimes suspected I was getting high on the smell of monkey poo. I was making a vegetarian spaghetti casserole when the little TV ran the story. The animals were sickening, and many were dying. Not all of them, but a large number—the Zoo official interviewed estimated 75% of the animals were affected. Fifteen animals had died during the night, and animal specialists were flying in to help. The announcer went on to say that other regional zoos were experiencing a similar problem, although not to the extent of the Minneapolis Zoo.

I wished Meri or Phil were home, but they were at work. Meri worked as an office manager for Feed Rite Farm Store, and Phil was a personal trainer at the gym. I always secretly thought that most of Phil’s clients hired her more for her looks than for her skill as a personal trainer, but since I am allergic to exercise, I could be wrong about that. I grabbed my cell and called Mom but got her machine. I sighed and said to the voicemail, “Hi Mom. Did you hear about the poor animals at the Zoo? It’s on the news; I even saw it on CNN. Turn on the TV and call me.” Minnesota is far enough from the public eye that we always get a little pumped to hear ourselves mentioned on CNN.

I snapped the phone shut and set the timer on the hot dish. I usually was the one who did the cooking, since Meri was hopeless in the kitchen and Phil always made some kind of healthy but nasty-tasting entrée. Phil pushed healthy eating, but never complained when I made a hot dish, as casseroles were called locally.

I called Eddy but got his machine as well and didn’t leave a message. I had a sinking feeling that Eddy and I were on a slow slide to breaking up. The problems were mounting and solutions were scarce. He was crabby much of the time. He didn’t like that Meri and Phil were so quick to speak up for me. He felt I didn’t spend enough time with him. He thought I should get a different job (this after he heard that one of my customers asked me out). He thought I was frigid.

That last one rocked me back, I don’t mind telling you. Because secretly, I thought I was probably frigid too. I thought I had been adequately faking it, however, and so I was surprised he would say that. I mean don’t get me wrong, I thought sex was fine, just not all that great. It felt good, but that was it. And no one knew this, or at least I
thought no one knew this. Apparently Eddy suspected. There goes my Oscar for Best Actress in a Supporting Role. You’d think that I would have told Meri or Phil, but I’d known them for so long that I just couldn’t bring it up somehow. They knew that Eddy and I had “jumped the hurdle” so to speak, but they had immediately assumed it was wonderful and left it at that. I just didn’t really know how to tell them it was frankly a little boring. I guess I didn’t like to admit it to myself.

Anyway, it was just one of Eddy’s complaints, and I’d only seen him once during the week, when it used to be that we’d be together everyday. I wasn’t as upset as I thought I should be (see? frigid!) but was relatively practical about it. I was young—if he walked, I’d probably find someone else eventually.

I was thinking these thoughts when I realized the announcer on the TV (I’d switched to
Headline News
) was looking alert and almost, well, scared. I mentally tuned back to what she was saying.