“No doubt, but it sounds like he’s not thinking in terms of what’s best for the investigation,” Ben said.
Julie nodded, looking out the window. A sign for Twin Falls alerted her to their distance from the metropolitan city. 135 miles.
“How far are we from Idaho Falls?”
“I’d guess about an hour, maybe less. We’re coming up to Highway 26, which goes back that direction. Why?”
“There’s a regional airport there. I can hitch a ride on one of the smaller jets if there are any going out today.” Julie started. She caught Ben’s eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll fly back to Billings and get things straightened out at the office, and you can drive the truck back.”
Ben kept one eye on her as he continued driving down the highway.
“What?” she said, smiling. “You like driving, right?”
“Only if you ask me nicely.”
She rolled her eyes. “Would you please drive the truck back for me?”
He sighed. “Sure. What’s another five hours of driving, anyway?”
“Actually, six. You’ll want to go around Yellowstone.”
Just then, her phone rang. Stephens. She answered it, again placing the phone on speaker.
“Stephens?”
“Yeah, hey Julie, how is everything going?” The muffled voice asked.
“Good, I guess. Have you been getting my emails?”
“I have. Are you getting mine?” he asked.
She hesitated. “Uh, no, I actually haven’t had time to check.” It was a poor lie, but it would buy her time. Stephens paused on the other end.
“Okay, right. Hey, how did that last contact work out? Any information?”
Julie had emailed her itinerary to Stephens before they visited Mud Lake, and in it she’d included the information Randy Brown sent along.
“It was… not fruitful.” She changed the subject. “We’re still working on where to go next, but I think I’m heading back to the office later today.”
He paused. “Okay, sounds good. Uh, listen, we’ve got some news. I wanted to call about it, just to be sure you got the information. Livingston and some higher-ups at the CDC and the Department of Homeland Security called in a team of excavators to check out the area beneath Yellowstone Lake and the West Thumb areas, at the park.”
“Where the bomb went off?”
“Right. They know there are a few caves that run around that area, though none of them are very long or deep. But they checked them all out just in case.”
Ben listened to the conversation as he drove, scratching at an itch on his arm.
“What did they find?”
“They found a tunnel cut into a wall of one of the caves.”
“A tunnel?”
Ben scratched his arm again.
“Yeah, manmade. Cut recently, too,” Stephens said.
“Wow. Are they thinking that’s how the bomb got there? Where it was planted?” Julie asked.
“No, it would have destroyed the tunnel, or at least collapsed most of it. They haven’t followed it all the way down, yet, but it seems to be perfectly intact.”
Ben was beginning to get annoyed at the itch in his arm. What is that? He finally looked down at his forearm. A red rash was beginning to spread up and over his hands. His eyes widened. “Julie,” he whispered.
Julie didn’t hear him.
“What do they think is going on, then? Do they know?”
“They don’t,” Stephens answered. “But they have an idea. They’re thinking the first bomb was a warning, to get our attention.”
Julie shook her head quickly. “Wait, what? What do you mean by first bomb?”
“Julie.” Ben said her name louder, hoping she’d look over at him. Instead, she held up her pointer finger. Wait.
“They think there’s a second bomb, Julie. A bigger one. It may or may not have a viral payload like the first one, but regardless, if it detonates…”
“Julie!” Finally Ben yelled. His voice easily filled the truck’s cab, and she jumped. She looked over at him as Stephens continued.
“…Wait — Julie, was that Ben? That guy from Yellowstone?”
Her eyes widened as she saw what Ben had grown so frantic about. The rash covered his hands and forearms, but he wasn’t looking at his own arms. Instead, he was pointing at hers.
She dropped the phone on her lap and stuck her arms out in front of her.
A blossoming rash was slowly making its way up her own forearms, already covering her hands.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The F450 was performing admirably. Ben gunned it, pointing the large gray truck down the small highway that twisted through Billings, Montana. He was certainly pushing it to the limit, but it was handling well. He passed yet another car full of gawkers, amazed at both his speed and seeming carelessness for other travelers on the road.
But he didn’t care what they thought of him. The rash had spread to just below his shoulders, though it was still only on his hands and arms. It was moving much more slowly than he’d seen back at Yellowstone, but it was definitely moving. He could only hope that Julie’s own rash was moving even slower.
He sped ahead of another eighteen-wheeler, this one carrying a load of brand new vehicles to some dealership. The driver flipped him off, but Ben didn’t care. He had to get to the hospital. To Julie.
They’d reached the regional airport in Idaho Falls, but by that time she’d nearly convinced Ben to continue driving, to deliver them to Billings together. She was terrified of flying with the rash, convinced that it would spread and only worsen the viral outbreak. Ben knew she was right — it had so far proven to be an extremely contagious disease, but he’d argued that there was simply no other way to get her to Montana as quickly. She fought back, reminding him that this was still a commercial airport — even if there was a flight out to Billings today, it may not even leave in the next few hours. What was the point of flying if she couldn’t beat him back to the office?
Thankfully the argument was settled when her phone rang. It was her boss, David Livingston, and he was surprised to hear their news. “I’ll have a plane waiting for you,” he’d said. It turned out to be a private jet, owned by a business tycoon who golfed with Livingston often. It was ready to leave whenever they arrived — they could even drive directly onto the tarmac to save time. Julie was overjoyed, thanking Livingston profusely and promising she’d pay him back someday. Ben still refused to fly, even considering the luxurious comfort of a private plane with full amenities, so he dropped her off at the airport, filled up the truck’s gas tank, and got on the highway toward Montana.
His phone had buzzed an hour ago with an unknown caller. When he’d answered it and heard Benjamin Stephens’ voice on the other end, he knew it could only mean bad news.
“Julie’s here,” Stephens reported.
“Good to hear,” Ben said. “Is she at the office now?”
“Well, that’s what I’m calling about, actually. She’s not at the office. We’ve got her quarantined at a local hospital that’s converted a wing for the virus outbreak. She’s sedated now, and being fully monitored.”
“What?” Ben couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Is she okay?”
“She is, for now,” Stephens said. “The rash spread up to her neck and is beginning to cover her torso. It’s still in its early stages, from what the doctors can tell, but it’s not stopping.”
Ben swallowed hard. Shit.
“Okay, I’m coming there. Where is the —”
“You can’t, Ben. The hospital wing is completely off-limits, and—”