The Hatching (The Hatching #1)(71)
There was more. Curfews. Pleas for calm. A stern reminder to stay indoors with windows and doors closed, to try to seal any possible entrances. But above all, it was Stephanie sounding presidential. Authoritative. Manny was proud of the speech he’d written, particularly given how short a time he’d had to write it, but it was Stephanie who sold it. She did what the president is supposed to do, which is look into the camera, look into the eyes of the American people, and say, “We’ve got this under control.”
But Manny knew she didn’t believe it any more than he did.
Soot Lake, Minnesota
A quarter past midnight and there was still traffic on the 6. He’d figured there’d be cars and trucks for the two hours up 169 from Minneapolis to Crosby, but they were already twenty-five minutes past Crosby, and the traffic was constant. It worried Mike. He thought he was being overcautious, a little crazy, even, to make Rich and Fanny pack up and head to Rich’s cottage with Annie, but it scared him a little that so many other people had the same idea, that he wasn’t the only person who wanted to get his family away from Minneapolis. He’d fought about it with Fanny for more than twenty minutes before Rich finally came in off the sidelines to say he thought Mike was right. For that, Mike begrudgingly liked his ex-wife’s husband even more than he already did.
“I’ve got the vacation time,” Rich said, “and I don’t have any cases coming up for a few weeks.” Fanny started to protest again, but Rich shook his head. “Maybe he’s wrong, honey, but if Mike’s right, and things get worse?” He shrugged. “It’s not like spending a week or two at the cottage is a real hardship.”
Mike had been at home, already a little anguished, when the president declared martial law out west. And then, five minutes later, even though he was supposed to be off the next day, he got the e-mail that he was on duty, that everybody was on duty, starting from the moment they read the e-mail until further notice. He hadn’t opened the e-mail. It was enough to read the subject line. Besides, if he opened it, there’d be a record of his reading it. Instead, he dropped his agency phone on the counter—he could argue he didn’t see the e-mail until the next morning—took his personal phone, loaded his truck with all the canned and dried food he had, plus a few other odds and ends, and headed over to Fanny and Rich’s. By the time Rich had come around to the idea and they’d loaded up Rich’s Land Cruiser and hitched up the boat, Annie was asleep. She’d barely woken up when Mike moved her to his truck—he’d left the agency car at home with his agency phone, another step toward deniability—and he was grateful she hadn’t asked why they were heading out of town in the middle of the week, late at night, why she was in Mike’s car instead of with her mother and Rich.
The brake lights on the boat trailer glowed red and then the turn signal came on. Rich had said the BP station in Outing was the last place to get gas before his cottage. Mike turned the radio down a notch. There wasn’t anything new anyway, but what was on the radio was enough: Delhi, Los Angeles, Helsinki, Rio de Janeiro for sure. Suspicions in North Korea, but who the f*ck knew what was happening there? More unconfirmed reports in rural areas all over the place. Scotland, Egypt, South Africa. But Mike didn’t care if they were confirmed or not. He’d seen that goddamned spider come crawling out of Henderson’s face, and he’d walked that spider into a university lab to find the president of the United States waiting, and then he’d flown home to a country that was on lockdown. Even before Los Angeles and the president’s speech he was feeling antsy.
Rich turned off into the gas station, and Mike pulled his truck up to the pump on the other side of Rich’s Land Cruiser. He tried to be gentle closing the driver’s door so that Annie could keep sleeping, but she didn’t stir at all.
As Fanny went to get them all coffee, Rich said, “You sure about this, Mike?” His tone wasn’t challenging.
Whatever pissing contest there was between them had ended for Rich about the same time he and Fanny got married. For Mike, it had been harder to let go of the animosity. Mike liked to think he was the bigger guy, but it just wasn’t true. He still busted Rich’s balls occasionally, but this wasn’t the time and he knew it. It said something about Rich that he was the kind of guy who would do this, that when his wife’s ex-husband showed up at their house past a decent hour of night and told them it was time to head for the hills, Rich was willing to let himself be swayed, was willing to take Mike’s side against Fanny.
“No, Rich. If I’m being honest, I’m not sure. But I’d rather be wrong about going than about not going.”
Rich nodded, and other than a quiet thank-you to Fanny when she came back with the coffees, neither man said another word. Mike got back into his truck and took a sip while he waited for Rich to also fill the tank on his motor boat and then the two spare gas cans Mike had made him take.
From the gas station, it was twenty-five more minutes of back roads and twists and turns and past one in the morning before they got to the boat launch. Once everything was loaded up, Mike came back to the truck. He thought about just scooping Annie up and carrying her to the boat, but instead, he gave her a gentle shake until she woke up.
“Listen, Annie,” he said. “You awake?” She nodded, and even though Mike wasn’t sure she truly was, he had to trust that she’d remember. “You stay where you are for a little bit, okay? Stay with your mom and Rich. I’ll come to you. You don’t worry about me. I’ll be back.”