Richard took a step backward. He feared he’d overdone it by mentioning the unmentionable. For a second he thought Terese was about to use the gun on him. But instead she flew into the kitchen, cocking the gun as she went. She stepped up to Jack and pointed the gun at his bloodied face.
“Turn away!” she commanded.
Jack felt as if his heart had stopped. He looked up the quivering barrel and into Terese’s arctic blue eyes. He was paralyzed, incapable of following her command.
“Damn you!” Terese said through a sudden flood of tears.
Uncocking the gun, she tossed it aside, then rushed back to the couch to bury her head in her hands. She was sobbing.
Richard felt guilty. He knew he shouldn’t have said what he had. Losing her baby and then her husband was his sister’s Achilles’ heel. Meekly he went over to her and sat on the edge of the couch.
“I didn’t mean it,” Richard said, stroking her back gently. “It slipped out. I’m not myself.”
Terese sat up and wiped her eyes. “I’m not myself either,” she admitted. “I can’t believe these tears. I’m a wreck. I feel awful too. Now my throat’s sore.”
“You want another aspirin?” Richard asked.
Terese shook her head. “What do you think Twin meant about giving his word?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Richard said. “That’s why I asked him.”
“Why didn’t you offer him more money?” Terese said.
“He didn’t give me a chance,” Richard said. “He hung up.”
“Well, call him back,” Terese said. “We have to get out of here.”
“How much should I offer?” Richard said. “I don’t have the kind of money you have.”
“Whatever it takes,” Terese said. “At this point money shouldn’t be a limiting factor.”
Richard picked up the phone and dialed. This time when he asked for Twin he was told Twin was out. He wouldn’t be back for an hour. Richard hung up.
“We have to wait,” he said.
“What else is new?” Terese commented.
Terese lay back on the couch and pulled a crocheted afghan over her. She shivered. “Is it getting cold in here or is it just me?” she asked.
“I had a couple of chills myself,” Richard said. He went to the fire and piled on more logs. Then he got a blanket from his bedroom before reclining on his couch. He tried to read, but he couldn’t concentrate. He was intermittently shivering despite the blanket. “I just thought of a new worry,” he said.
“What now?” Terese asked. Her eyes were closed.
“Jack’s been sneezing and coughing. You don’t think he was exposed to my flu strain, the one I put in the humidifier?”
With the blanket wrapped around him, Richard got up and went into the kitchen and asked Jack about it. Jack didn’t answer.
“Come on, Doc,” Richard urged. “Don’t make me have to hit you again.”
“What difference does it make?” Terese called from the couch.
“It makes a lot of difference,” Richard said. “There’s a good chance my strain was the strain that caused the great flu epidemic of 1918. I got it in Alaska from a couple of frozen Eskimos who died of pneumonia. The time frame was right.”
Terese joined him in the kitchen. “Now you’re getting me worried,” she said. “Do you think he has it and has exposed us?”
“It’s possible,” Richard said.
“That’s terrifying!” She looked down at Jack. “Well?” she demanded. “Were you exposed?”
Jack wasn’t sure if he should admit to his exposure or not. He didn’t know which would anger them more. The truth or his silence.
“I don’t like it that he’s not answering,” Richard said.
“He’s a medical examiner,” Terese said. “He had to have been exposed. They brought the dead people to him. He told me on the phone.”
“I’m not afraid of that,” Richard said. “The exposure to worry about is to a living, breathing, sneezing, coughing person, not a dead body.”
“Medical examiners don’t take care of live people,” Terese said. “All their patients are dead.”
“That’s true,” Richard admitted.
“Besides,” Terese said, “Jack is hardly sick. He’s got a cold. Big deal. Wouldn’t he be really ill by now if he’d contracted your flu bug?”
“You’re right,” Richard said. “I’m not thinking straight; if he had the 1918 flu bug he’d be flat out by now.”
Brother and sister returned to their couches and collapsed.
“I can’t take much more of this,” Terese said. “Especially the way I feel.”
At five-fifteen, exactly one hour after the previous call, Richard phoned Twin. This time Twin himself picked up.
“What the hell are you pestering me for?” Twin asked.
“I want to offer more money,” Richard said. “Obviously a thousand wasn’t enough. I understand. It’s a long drive up here. How much are you looking for?”
“You didn’t understand me, did you?” Twin said irritably. “I told you I couldn’t do it. That’s it. Game’s over.”
“Two thousand,” Richard said. He looked over at Terese. She nodded.
“Hey, man, are you deaf or what?” Twin said. “How many times…”
“Three thousand,” Richard said, and Terese again nodded.
“Three thousand bucks?” Twin repeated.
“That’s correct,” Richard said.
“You are sounding desperate,” Twin said.
“We’re willing to pay three thousand dollars,” Richard said. “That should speak for itself.”
“Hmmm,” Twin said. “And you say you have the doc handcuffed.”
“Exactly,” Richard said. “It will be a piece of cake.”
“I tell you what,” Twin said. “I’ll send someone up there tomorrow morning.”
“You’re not going to do what you did this morning, are you?” Richard asked.
“No,” Twin said. “I guarantee I’ll have someone up there to take care of things.”
“For three thousand,” Richard said. He wanted to be sure they understood each other.
“Three thousand will be just fine,” Twin said.
Richard replaced the receiver and looked over at Terese.
“Do you believe him?” she asked.
“This time he guaranteed it,” Richard said. “And when Twin guarantees something, it happens. He’ll be here in the morning. I’m confident.”
Terese sighed. “Thank God for small favors,” she said.
Jack wasn’t so relieved. His panic rekindled, he determined he had to find a way to escape that night. Morning would bring the apocalypse.
Afternoon dragged into evening. Terese and Richard fell asleep. Unattended, the fire died down. A chill came with the darkness. Jack wracked his brains for ideas of escape, but unless he was freed from the drainpipe, he didn’t see how he could get away.
Around seven both Richard and Terese began to cough in their sleep. At first they seemed more to be clearing their throats than coughing, but soon the hacking became more forceful and productive. Jack considered the development significant. It gave support to a concern he’d been harboring since they both began complaining of chills: namely, that they had caught the dreaded flu from him just as Richard suspected.
Thinking back to the long car ride from the city, Jack realized it would have been hard for them not to have contracted his illness. During the ride Jack’s symptoms were peaking, and symptoms of the flu often peaked with maximum viral production. Each of Jack’s sneezes and coughs had undoubtedly sent millions of the infective virions into the car’s confined space.
Still, Jack couldn’t be sure. Besides, his real worry was facing the Black Kings in the morning. He had more pressing concerns than the health of his captors.
Jack yanked futilely at the drain with the short chain between the handcuffs. All he succeeded in doing was to make a racket and abrade his wrists more than they already were.
“Shut up!” Richard yelled after having been awakened by the clamor. He switched on a table lamp, then was immediately overwhelmed by a fit of coughing.
“What’s happening?” Terese asked groggily.