“I already feel like a bag of assholes,” he said. “And now this? I hope it’s not another Detroit. Hey, Coop, you feel sick?”
Cooper gestured to the pile of Kleenex on the little lampstand next to his bed. “Yeah. I do.” He pressed the “volume” button.
“…an unprecedented threat upon our great nation, and one that requires unprecedented action. My fellow Americans, we are mobilizing a swift and thorough response. I am in constant contact with the world’s leaders. Every nation on earth is working together to win this battle.”
The camera angle shifted, panning across a half-bowl of applauding politicians. Was that Congress? Cooper could never remember if that was the House, the Senate, or if they all met in some special room for things like this. What he did know was all the politicians looked the same: rich fuckers who raped the system, the only differences between them being ties and dresses of red or blue.
A news ticker ran across the bottom of the screen:
…INFECTIOUS AGENT THAT RESULTED IN THE DETROIT DISASTER IDENTIFIED… SCIENTISTS HAVE DISCOVERED WAY TO INOCULATE AGAINST THE INFECTION… PRESIDENT BLACKMON CLAIMS “DISEASE WILL BE WIPED FROM THE FACE OF THE EARTH”…
“Holy shit,” Cooper said. “It is another Detroit.”
Jeff flopped his head back into the pillow. “Told ya. Holler if they say Chicago — otherwise, I don’t give a shit. I’m going back to sleep. I feel like I got face-fucked by a rabid buffalo.”
The applause died down. Blackmon continued.
“Even as I speak to you now, factories all over America are collaborating in the largest unified manufacturing initiative since World War II. Distributors, shipping companies and grocery store chains are all cooperating with FEMA to bring you the medicine that will keep you safe. Over five hundred corporate sponsors have signed up to fund this initiative. More join the cause every hour. We are faced with a challenge to not only our country, but to every person on our planet. With God’s help, America is taking the lead to protect the human race.”
The audience cheered again, louder this time. At least some of them did. Cooper didn’t follow politics, but it looked like only the Republicans were standing. The still-seated Democrats applauded politely.
Cooper looked at Jeff. “Protect the human race? Is this even bigger than Detroit?”
Jeff shrugged. He didn’t seem to notice the yellow bit of snot dangling from his nose.
The applause faded. Politicians sat back down. Blackmon continued.
“I can’t stress this enough,” she said. “The surgeon general and the Centers for Disease Control urge you to cooperate with local distribution centers to get the treatment. The emergency broadcast system will be transmitting delivery days and locations. There will be enough for everyone. Until you receive your medication, limit contact with others and stay indoors as much as possible.”
Blackmon made a fist and banged it once on the podium. “All the naysayers who claimed that American manufacturing was dead are about to see how wrong they were. Other nations are following our lead, producing their own medicine, and what they are producing began here. American ingenuity is gone? I… don’t… think so.”
The Republicans stood. They roared their approval. Some of the Democrats begrudgingly stood as well.
Jeff let out a huff. “So the world is in danger, and she turns it into a campaign speech. This from a woman who doesn’t want universal health care? Whatever.”
Blackmon held up both hands, gave the crowd her trademark half-smile. She looked confident and excited, but not too much of either. The applause died down again.
“Let me say I do not fault my predecessor, or his party, for allowing things to come to this point,” she said. “These are exceptional times not only in the history of our nation, but also of the world. Together, we will forever end the greatest threat the planet Earth has ever faced.”
“Man, she’s good,” Cooper said. “Something new is happening and she still manages to imply that Gutierrez opened up Pandora’s box in the first place.”
“She’s been president for two years,” Jeff said. “Whatever happens now is on her.”
“Yeah, right. Four years into Gutierrez’s term, you were still blaming his Republican predecessor for the crappy economy. Give me a break, Jeff — with you, the Republicans are always at fault and the Democrats never do anything wrong.”
Jeff raised a hand, gave a thumbs-up. “Now you’re understanding how things work, bro. Turn that thing off.”
Turn it off? There was some kind of world-shaking shit going down, and Jeff wanted to nap?
On the TV, Blackmon grew more serious. More solemn. “Now, I must show you some very disturbing footage. This footage underscores the reason we must all work together in this inoculation effort. This is footage from—”
“Coop!”
Cooper jumped; Jeff had screamed the word. Cooper turned.
Jeff propped himself up on one elbow. “I told you to turn it off. You trying to fuck with me or something?”
His lip curled up, like it was all he could do to not stand up and smash Cooper’s head into the TV. Cooper didn’t know what to say.
Blackmon continued to babble, but Cooper wasn’t paying any attention. He used the remote to turn the TV off. “Dude, just take it easy, okay?”
Jeff’s lip returned to normal. He blinked a few times. The hate left his eyes.
“Oh, wow, man,” he said. “Sorry about that. This bug has me in a shit-ass mood, I guess.”
Cooper shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.” He felt a wave of relief — for a second, he’d thought his best friend was going to get out of that bed and come at him.
Jeff rubbed at his face. “No, it’s not okay. I can’t talk to you like that. Sorry.” He looked up and forced a smile. “So that shit they were talking about on TV, that medicine. When do we have to take whatever it is they’re passing out?”
“I don’t know,” Cooper said. “You want me to turn the TV back on?”
“No. Whatever it is, it’s not going to be here in the next six hours. I’m going to get some more sleep. Really awesome vacation in the Windy City, eh?”
“My kind of town. Old Blue Eyes was full of shit, if you ask me.”
Jeff laughed, which quickly turned into a heavy, ripping cough that curled his body into a fetal position. Cooper plucked a pair of Kleenex from the box and offered them. Jeff had his left hand over his mouth, but reached out with his right to take the tissues. He pressed them to his mouth as the cough racked him again. He rolled to his back.
“Aw, fuck, Coop — that shit hurts.”
Jeff pulled the Kleenex away from his mouth and looked at it. Amid a glob of greenish-yellow were bright streaks of red.
“Dude,” Cooper said, “that’s not good.”
Jeff balled up the Kleenex and tossed it away. He waved a hand as if brushing away Cooper’s thoughts.
“Ain’t the first time I’ve coughed up a little blood, bro. Don’t worry about it.” He rolled to his side, rested his head on the pillow. “I’m going back to sleep. Turn off the lights, man. If you make any more noise, I’m going to hurt you.”
Cooper froze. Was Jeff joking, or threatening? It didn’t sound like a joke. Cooper stared for a moment, once again suddenly aware of the size difference between them. Jeff was bigger, stronger… and Jeff knew how to fight.
Cooper slowly reclined on the bed, careful not to make too much noise. Maybe he didn’t feel like he’d been face-fucked by a rabid buffalo, but he sure as hell didn’t feel like singing and dancing, either. He was exhausted; sleep would be good.