Chapter Two
Norah kept a single duffel bag packed in the rear of her closet at all times.
In it were three changes of clothes (including two sets of fatigues and a pair of jeans and a T-shirt), a spare cell-phone charger, and select toiletries.
She had very little in the way of attachments in Atlanta, or anywhere really, and that was exactly how she liked it.
The last two people Norah had allowed herself to get close to either died or left her.
Davey was gone—her only brother whittled down to nothing more than a folded flag on her fireplace and a headstone back in Virginia she’d never visited.
And Chase…well, the memory wasn’t even worth entertaining.
The closest thing Norah had to family or a friend was probably Mrs. Brooks, her eighty-six-year-old neighbor who lived across the hall.
Ever the nosey old lady, Mrs. Brooks had been lurking around her doorway when Norah moved in several years ago.
She was a bit intrusive, that was true. But she had also turned out to be quite good company and baked a mean banana bread for Norah on a semi-regular basis.
Whenever Norah was called away for the weekend, sometimes longer, she left Pumpkin with Mrs. Brooks, who was always more than happy to oblige.
Norah was quite certain Pumpkin had grown to like Mrs. Brooks more than her anyway, and by the time she always came to pick him up, he offered her little more than a halfhearted mew and what she swore was an eye roll.
Briggs was sending her to Louisiana at the crack of dawn the following morning.
As her unit’s most experienced infectious-disease doctor, Norah was hardly surprised to receive the assignment.
Especially when she heard the CDC was already heading down there.
The CDC’s medical unit and the military ID doctors were usually locked in a tight head-butting session as soon as any new or exciting disease emerged.
It was always the same—the CDC wanted to collect data, find a cure, be the heroes.
And the military wanted to hang tightly onto whatever potential biological weapon they might be able to manufacture from nature’s best defenses.
Norah was hardly looking forward to weeks, maybe longer, of a political wrestling match with some nerd from the CDC.
Still, she did love being in the field. It was why she had decided to accept her infectious-disease fellowship in the first place, preferably at the highly sought-after Georgetown program.
Of course, Chase Durgin had kept that from happening.
Mrs. Brooks answered her door after several loud knocks, and Norah breathed her usual sigh of relief.
She worried, and not infrequently, that one of these days she’d be the one to find poor Mrs. Brooks stiff on the living-room floor.
Aside from the general unpleasantness of a neighbor dying, Norah had become very fond of her and their Sunday night cocktails and puzzles.
Though Norah tried to keep a firm distance from everyone, Mrs. Brooks was special, and Norah silently dreaded the day she’d have to say good-bye to her too.
“Hello, dear. Bringing Pumpkin for a visit, I assume?” Mrs. Brooks was always dressed to the nines, her thinning white hair done up in tight curls with a colorful geometric necklace around her neck and a fur shawl around her shoulders.
“Do you mind? I’m sorry.” Pumpkin let out a howl of approval from Norah’s arms.
“Of course not. Where are you off to this time?”
“Louisiana. I’m not sure how long. This one might be a while. Are you sure it’s all right? If he’s any trouble—”
Mrs. Brooks waved her hand dismissively. “Please. He’s never any trouble. And how about you? How are you doing?”
Norah shrugged. “Fine. You know I’m fine.”
“Do you want to come in? I just put a pot of coffee on.”
“Banana bread?” Norah smiled, and Mrs. Brooks held the door open.
“Don’t you know me at all?”
Olivia didn’t usually come over two nights in a row. It was an unspoken agreement that both she and Chase needed their own time, and a lot of it. She helped herself to a bottle of beer from Chase’s fridge and sat on one of the bar stools next to where Chase stood staring out the window.
“Why am I here, Chase?” Olivia closed her arms around Chase’s hips and rested her cheek against her stomach. Chase ran a hand through her thick, short hair.
“I’m leaving tomorrow. For a while, probably.”
“I see.” Olivia didn’t ask anything else, and Chase wasn’t sure whether that was because she knew not to, or she just didn’t care enough.
Their arrangement had its perks—no-strings sex, a warm body to hold, the company of a beautiful woman who asked next to nothing of her. But it also had its lonely moments.
Olivia slowly lifted Chase’s T-shirt and ran her thumbs down Chase’s stomach to the band of her sweatpants.
That night, Chase was looking more for the company than the sex, but beggars wouldn’t be choosers.
She stroked Olivia’s soft brown hair that flowed wildly over her back and closed her eyes, leaning farther into Olivia’s touch.
Olivia followed the trail blazed by her hands with her lips and slid Chase’s pants down over her hips.
“Let’s go to bed,” Chase said, feeling rather resigned.
This was about the extent of her meaningful connections these days—a night with Olivia that would undoubtedly leave her cold and empty by sunup.
Chase wasn’t sure how she’d gotten here, but as she led Olivia into the bedroom, Norah’s face briefly flashed through her mind.
The twin engine of the tiny military plane sputtered and coughed as it headed down the runway, but Norah took the opportunity to close her eyes and try to locate the rest she knew she wouldn’t find in the upcoming days.
She was used to these rickety plane rides by now but could appreciate the anxiety in the faces of the two men strapped in beside her, who may not have been quite as familiar with the experience.
“Believe it or not, it’s supposed to sound like that,” Norah said to the one who looked particularly green.
“I know that, Captain. I just, I don’t fly well is all, ma’am.”
“Good thing you didn’t join the US Air Force then, Private.” Norah winked at him, and the plane jolted into the sky, the morning sun just breaking through the cloud cover.
The plane touched down in New Orleans in only about an hour. Touched down was a little bit of an overstatement. But Norah didn’t skip a beat as they lurched to a stop in front of one of the gates, her seatbelt already flung off her, reaching for her bag she’d stashed under the seat.
Her co-passengers continued to look their various shades of green, but their faces were now superimposed with a hint of relief that said they’d survived what they surely thought was a one-way flight to heaven. Norah debarked, probably before they’d even left their seats.
Whatever was going on in Louisiana, it obviously wasn’t important enough to facilitate transport via the CDC’s private jumbo jet.
Chase sat sandwiched between a fairly obese woman and John, who was no small man himself, as their Jet Blue plane taxied to the gate.
The flight was long enough for only an episode and a half of Mad Men, which was extremely difficult to enjoy, given the cacophony of sleep-apnea-induced snoring coming from either side of her.
As the plane came to a stop, she nudged John awake.
“You couldn’t have let me have the aisle seat?”
John shrugged, the lines of his aging mouth spreading like ripples on a lake. “Seniority, kiddo.”
“Well, I hope you had a nice nap.”
“Wonderful. Best in decades. And how about you? I hope you did some research during all our downtime?”
Chase shook her head and smirked, standing to pull her duffel bag from the overhead compartment.
“Hard to get much of anything done with that lawnmower living inside your nostrils.”
John followed behind her and patted Chase on the shoulder. “I like you, Chase. Did I ever tell you that?”
“I like you too, you old fart.”
Chase smiled. She did like John. A lot. She hadn’t been at the CDC long, but in the time that she had, John had taken her in, his paternal warmth reminding her of the father she’d always wanted.
John already had a daughter about her age, but Chase was pretty sure he was all right with having another one.
It was nearly ninety degrees, with a humidity that could peel the skin off a goat, by the time Norah and her band of air-sick privates reached the staging area the army had set up.
“I thought Hotlanta was hot,” one of the young soldiers said.
“Hot enough to roast a lizard,” the other one chimed in.
“What?”
“Ya know. Hot enough to roast a lizard? That hot.”
“Yeah. I heard you the first time. I just don’t get it.” The first of the men had stopped walking and was staring at the other.
“It’s a Southern thing, man. Never mind.”
“Gentlemen? Do you mind?” Norah had let them banter for a while in hopes it would help to work out some of the post-flight jitters, but it was time to get to work.
“Ma’am,” they said in unison, snapping to attention and saluting.
Norah nodded once, and they continued their march to the enormous tent splayed out on the horizon of the bayou.
The sun reflected off the white canvas, so bright it etched shapes into Norah’s vision, and the backdrop of lush green and still swamps was a harsh contrast to the sterility of the army jeeps and port-a-potties that had annexed the area.
“Captain Bishop?” A woman just slightly younger than Norah herself, in a beige army-issue T-shirt and fatigues, approached from inside the tent.
“Yes.”
The woman saluted. “I’m Second Lt. Jamie Marshall. Welcome to Louisiana, ma’am.”
Norah saluted back, and the four young privates standing behind her followed suit. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”