Chapter Eight #3
The large white digits on the iPad that overlay Pumpkin’s rather voluptuous figure read 3:29 a.m. Norah swiped her right index finger up the screen, typed in her passcode, and pulled up the spreadsheet she’d been working on earlier that night, before overhearing Chase talking to Jamie.
Before feeling Chase’s hands on her thighs.
Before Chase’s lips were so precariously close to hers.
Norah stared at the screen for a few more minutes, not actually looking at anything, and when the memory of Chase’s fingertips on her skin turned so real she could feel them again, she hit the tiny button on the upper right-hand corner of the device and accepted defeat.
Really, she had three options to pass the time until she could talk with John and review figures and vaccine studies and meetings with governors.
Sleep wasn’t happening. And trying to work with Chase trespassing through her brain was hardly productive either.
So Norah did what she’d done when she was deployed, when the nights stretched out endlessly in front of her and rest was all but as foreign as whatever country she was in.
She walked. Exiting her tent, Norah began what would be her first of many loops around the perimeter of the new CDC/army barracks.
The darkness was incredible. A heavy cloud cover eclipsed a sliver of a moon, and she could see only the hazy lights from far-away New Orleans on the distant horizon.
Peepers hummed in every which direction, interrupted only by the subtle clomping of Norah’s boots as they struck the firm ground.
By her second lap, a familiar peace settled around her.
She’d stopped thinking. She wasn’t tired, but she wasn’t exactly on edge either.
She felt almost meditative. That was, until the sound of footsteps to her left sent her angling for her pocketknife.
Her first instinct was to reach for her Glock, which she’d regrettably left in the travel safe in her tent.
But when the initial endorphin rush had settled, she remembered she was in the safety of the army’s camp, with armed privates in every which direction on the outskirts of where she stood.
Still gripping the tactical knife at her side, Norah released the breath she’d been holding as the figure producing the footsteps came into view.
“Jamie.” My god. This girl was everywhere tonight.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t mean to disturb you. I just couldn’t sleep. I like to walk when I’m like this. It usually calms me down.”
Norah gently folded the blade of the knife back into its sheath and slid it discreetly back into her pocket.
“Same,” Norah said, smiling. She liked Jamie. And it was clear from her conversation with Chase that Norah had so tactlessly disturbed that she was struggling with everything happening around them.
“I feel like I’ve done nothing but interrupt you tonight, Captain.” Jamie let out a stifled chuckle.
“It’s okay. Really. I could use a little company. Walk with me?”
Jamie nodded and followed in stride next to Norah as she continued her next lap around the barracks.
They walked in comfortable silence for a while.
Norah knew it would be incredibly inappropriate, professional suicide even, to bring up what had happened with Chase earlier.
But she was hungry for someone to talk to, hungry to say out loud the madness that had invaded her head worse than any virus could.
She wished for a moment it were Mrs. Brooks walking next to her, not one of her subordinates. The silence persisted.
“I’m sorry again about earlier,” Jamie finally said. “Chase found me pretty upset tonight, you know, about the state of things. She was a good friend. I just wanted to thank her.”
“I’m glad.” Norah had nearly forgotten the snide comment she’d made about Jamie and Chase sleeping apart.
“Captain. Can I just say something? You know, woman to woman?”
Norah chuckled, pausing before deciding how to answer her. “Okay. Shoot.”
“Everyone needs someone to talk to. Right?”
Jamie was probably correct, although Norah had done a pretty impressive job of keeping things to herself for the last decade. “I suppose.”
“Well, if you ever need it, I can be that someone. We can just talk. You know—”
“Woman to woman?” Norah echoed her phrase, unable to contain her smile at Jamie’s rather endearing proposal.
“Exactly! Of course, you’re my boss. And I have nothing but respect for you. I also know this is pretty unorthodox, but hey, the world’s ending. Am I right?”
Norah patted Jamie softly on the back. “Not if we can help it.”
“Right. You’re so right, ma’am. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that we weren’t, that you weren’t doing an incredible job, because you are. I just meant—”
“I knew what you meant. And I appreciate the offer. So, woman to woman. Is there something you want to ask me?”
Jamie stopped mid-stride and studied the tops of her feet. She brought her hands to her hips and looked up, staring so confidently into Norah’s face it startled her.
“What’s the story with you and Chase?”