Chapter 45

I refused to watch the news as the number of those infected in the US, climbed – soared really – into the hundreds, then thousands, and finally hundreds of thousands, and then millions, worldwide. Roberta and Fran were waiting for me after I decontaminated and rode the empty elevator to the top floor of the Marriott just south of Pratt, and off President Street, on the Patapsco River, on the Inner Harbor.

I could see why The Judge would pick the location. It was off the downtown grid, away from the hustle and bustle, and easily defended from potential food rioters, because of its location. When I walked through the lobby, every officer gave me a wide berth, as I hadn't been decontaminated, and no one wanted to take a chance on catching anything living on my suit.

Once I was stripped, and chemically reduced to only me, with no alien organisms along for the ride, it was a relief to dress in the scrubs provided and head upstairs. Roberta heard of my pending arrival and was waiting as I stepped off the elevator. She ran into my arms and clung to me for dear life. As a captive in that suite, she was victimized by the never ending news stream of deathly illness. I, at least, was on the go, busy doing something, as opposed to waiting by the phone and radio, hoping for good news.

When Roberta released me, we walked inside and greeted Fran, who was issuing Federal Court Orders via telephone to minions around the country. The stress was written indelibly on her face, and she when she saw me, wrapped in Roberta's arms, come through the door, she smiled, disconnected from her call, and rushed into my arms, on the other side from her niece.

We shared a group hug, that turned into a group French kiss, and that quickly became a group grope, which pleased us all, mightily. It was easy to forgive being used by Roberta, under such awful circumstances, and I surprised myself, because I was looking forward to bedtime.

Fran was under no such compulsion, and broke our hug, undressed me right in the living room, and led me by Mr. Johnson to the bedroom, where we reunited in the Biblical sense, under the watchful gaze of Roberta, who was obviously worried that Fran would use me up, leaving nothing for her.

The weird thing about sex with good friends is that I never seem to run dry, lose interest, or discover I can't perform. Roberta found – much to her delight – that I had oodles of energy saved for her, when Fran was sufficiently sated.

Afterwards the three of us lazed together, naked, and talked about the plague. "It started with one man who showed up at Mercy, in Dallas, Texas, in severe respiratory stress. He was quickly joined by five more at the same hospital, which was really weird, until phone calls confirmed that people were reporting similar things at every hospital in the city." Roberta was telling the tale, with help from Fran, from time to time.

"By that night, the CDC, and DHS were involved, fielding calls, putting together timelines to see where all these people intersected, and kept coming back to flights out of Baltimore, and particularly, one night and one terminal. When the doctors got to putting together details, the CDC people narrowed things down to that one spot at Baltimore and the people who took one of three flights out of there. When the germ team got to the airport, the custodial people had cleaned the departure areas just like always, and the restrooms were spotless, as well. There was nothing to find, because the device went in the garbage with the rolls of used up toilet paper, and disposed of long before they could be checked out.

"We had nothing to go on except that it seemed to start in the airport."

I interrupted, and said, "But Carmen was at the Cruise Ship Pier. She wasn't near BWI. How can you account for that?"

Fran knew the answer. "We grabbed film of the entire weekend, and positively identified Carmen after you tipped us to her. She went into the restroom, was gone a good while, and then exited looking like a lost puppy, instead of a grown woman."

"Did you see how she left? Did she hail a cab, take a bus, have a ride pick her up, or what?" I was grasping at straws, but had an idea.

"She walked out to the curb and got into a small car, with no plates on it. The driver was wearing a hat and it was impossible to ID anyone.

"I can also tell you that the same car dropped her just a block from the cruise ships, also with no way to ID the driver." Fran sounded ejected.

"Ok. I've got it now. It was Billie doing the driving, and the car is the one Othneal used. It was kept behind the restaurant, so it might have been Billie's all along, but that doesn't matter unless you can find a registration for it somewhere. Billie is Othneal's sister. You saw the pictures and video. They were horrifically abused by their mother, and I found photos that could have been Billie at a much younger age, being used like S & M actress, only she was about seven years old.

"They had to have known each other and stayed connected all these years. With all that abuse, her wanting to kill the entire planet and everyone on it makes perfect sense."

I turned to Roberta, "The answer to everything is in the pictures. Whoever we are looking for is featured in those albums, and is out there finishing what they've all dreamed of, which was getting even with the world for not saving them from the abuse." I thought for a short time and then added, "It might be time to start to put the photos that show faces, cropping out any molestation, out to the media and see if we get lucky, with someone recognizing our killer."

Roberta leaped from the bed and called her staff. "We need to crop the child abuse pictures of anyone not dead, or in custody, and start circulating the face shots, and see if anyone makes a connection that gets us our killer."

Roberta and Fran were wound up and working the phones a mile a minute and I went to sleep.

When I woke up it was late, and Roberta was sleeping beside me. On my other side, I could make out Fran's soft breathing. It felt comforting to be all together, and I spent a long time considering my situation.

Angela was back at the ranch, thinking I was out here risking my life to try and find the last of the killers, and here I was sleeping between two old lovers, who just happened to be with me on this mission. It was a paradox of sorts, I suppose. My behavior was a conundrum, or a puzzle, or maybe just plain dumb.

Morning comes early when the fate of the universe is in the balance. As I rose, I felt a new kind of weariness throughout my body. The stress of nine lives and eight deaths was wearing me down. I craved rest like other men crave food, sex, or adrenaline. The universe decided when it was time to rest, and that day wasn't today.

Universe???...

Of course the universe.

Uh-huh...

Easy, right?

I was picked for this because the universe needed me to make it all stop, so I needed to go somewhere and make it all stop. Somewhere on the other side of those suite doors, was a person whose life was more important than the rest of us, and they needed to survive to do whatever it was that held such great importance for the universe.

And when it was all over I would be dead, and then recycled into another body, and the universe would start to use me all over again.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

I got up and dressed without disturbing my sleeping beauties. They looked as exhausted as I had felt the night before. They worked until some ungodly hour, while I slept, and now I was sneaking out to finish this thing with Billie and whoever else was involved.

I took the Glock that The Judge had thoughtfully provided and went for a date with a killer, softly kissing the two sleeping girls on my way out.

The guards downstairs did a double take when they saw me without a bio-suit. I power walked right past them, ignoring their calls to suit up. Somehow this thing was coming to a close today, as long as I kept my rendezvous with the universe, and a bio-suit wasn't going to help me to survive this time either...