Amanda's Story (4 page)

It had been quiet for hours, and the midday sun was boiling Ahmed inside his tent. He was still lucid, or at least thought he was lucid. His eyes had filled with blood and his vision was reduced to only shadows. The skin on his face, torso, and arms had peeled away, and he left a trail of blood and plasma as he staggered towards the tent's opening. He refused to die like this. He pushed open the tent flap and the heat of the sun seared the exposed nerves in his denuded skin. He cried aloud and sunk to his knees, but even this afforded him no relief. He started to crawl through the dust towards his laboratory, each meter an exercise in agony. A lifetime later he reached the entrance, which was mercifully already open. A body blocked the closure of the glass doors, and he slowly crawled over the liquefied remains of a human being he had probably known, and finally reached the shade. The inner door was sealed, aside from a series of bullet holes that stitched their way across the left panel. With a modest amount of force, Ahmed reasoned, he could shatter the remains of the pane and retreat further into the structure.

“What's the point?” he asked no one. Painfully, he propped himself against the cool glass and surveyed his work. Nothing moved; the Hybrid virus that he had helped to create had served Jaime Avanti's purpose well. The Ukrainian had probably emptied a vial of the virus in the air purifiers and another into the water before escaping. Ahmed thought that he would have preferred a bullet in the head over this, and that thought took root. He scanned the immediate area for a weapon, but only the corpses of the professional staff were within reach, and the most lethal weapon any of them carried would have been a clipboard.

Something moved just beyond the first tent, and Ahmed strained to see. The brilliant sunlight and the blood in his eyes made it difficult, but after watching for several minutes he realized that it was a vulture feeding on a body. He was filled with revulsion but didn't have the energy to vomit. As his eyes began to adjust he found more of the large birds doing what came naturally to them.

“Birds,” he said through bleeding lips. They had never tried birds, and although it no longer mattered to him, Ahmed was somehow certain that they could have used birds to study the virus instead of humans. Of course, then the eight men he himself had killed two days earlier would either be dead or dying at this point anyway. He smiled; Avanti had managed to absolve Ahmed of murdering the “volunteers.”

He watched the process of life and death, refusing to close his eyes for the last time. The Imams taught that true faith required an acceptance of one's fate, as all things are the will of Allah, but his mind, with all its complexities, refused. In a moment of clarity, he realized that his faith had always been hollow. He had never really believed that a golden palace and seventy-two virgins awaited him in paradise, or that it was the will of Allah that drove him ultimately to a painful death. Islam was more his identity than his religion. Something he had used to fill a void created by an indifferent family and society, something that offered him no peace in his ultimate time of need.

“The decisions I made were my own,” he declared to the uninterested birds. He knew that this was the ultimate heresy, and he accepted it. In the moments that preceded his death he would not wail and plead for Allah's mercy. He would stand on his own two feet, at least metaphorically, and accept the consequences of his actions.

His mind was slowing, but it dawned on him that the carrion birds, if capable of carrying the virus, would spread it before Avanti could. It was possible that in time Avanti himself would become infected by a progeny of the very virus that had killed Ahmed. He tried to smile and, with his life literally draining away, he found enough peace to finally close his eyes.

“She's right, you know,” Lisa Flynn finally said.

Amanda had been braced for her mother-in-law's comments since the two left the television studio. “I know,” she said quietly, watching but not really seeing downtown Chicago fly by their taxi's window. Like Amanda, Mindy McCoy had forever changed with the death of her parents. The once gregarious, active youth was replaced by a reclusive, apathetic teenager, and the transformation had nothing to do with hormones. It took her years to find her way back to herself.

They rode in silence for several more minutes when Lisa impulsively sat up. “Excuse me, driver, could you drop us just up here?” She pointed at the corner of State and Lake and turned to Amanda. “Let's get something to eat,” she said, a smile lighting up her face.

Amanda responded with a weak smile that conveyed only resignation. Lisa was a force of nature that could not be denied. The taxi stopped and Amanda followed Lisa out into the street.

“Come on,” Lisa encouraged. “The sun is out, the air is warm, and the water is blue. It's time to live.” She practically skipped across a busy intersection with Amanda in tow. She found a spot along a rail that overlooked the Chicago River and started excitedly pointing out all the sites: Marina Towers, the Wrigley buildings, even Lake Michigan off in the distance; all the while talking a mile a minute. A large boat filled with tourists passed beneath them; Lisa began waving and elbowed Amanda into joining in. Several cameras flashed in their direction and Lisa began to pose.

On any other day a part of Amanda would have resented Lisa's freedom, but the morning had emotionally drained her. “You're like a little kid seeing the circus for the first time,” she said, and her smile finally conveyed something more than resignation.

“Oh look!” Lisa had spotted some restaurants sitting just above the water's edge. “We have to go there,” she said, grabbing Amanda's wrist and practically dragging her across the bridge. They made their way down the steps and found a table outside.

“I must be living right,” a man in his mid-twenties said, startling both ladies as they settled in. He dropped linen napkins onto their laps and boldly pulled up a chair and sat across from them. With a good deal of flourish he propped his elbows onto the table, dropped his chin into his hands, and appraised his two guests. “My name is Richard, but you can call me Ricardo.” He rolled the “R.” “I will be your waiter this afternoon, and with a single ‘yes' I can be so much more this evening.” His eyebrows danced provocatively as he wore an exaggerated leer, waiting for their response.

Lisa's face immediately flushed and she began to hide behind a menu.

“I can tell that you are new to our fair establishment.” He scooted his chair next to the red-faced Lisa. “Perhaps I can help you.” He reached for her menu and opened it to the first page. “We reserve the right to insult any of our customers,” he read loudly. “Of course it is only a legal disclaimer. To insult either of you would surely be a crime against nature herself.” His arm shot into the air.

“Well, Ricardo,” she said, rolling the “R” twice as long as he had. “What would you recommend for two out-of-town ladies who sadly have no escort?”

“I would recommend starting with the Oysters Rockefeller, followed by a night of aamoraa …”—it took him almost five seconds to finish his last word. He focused on Lisa, but then quickly turned to Amanda, whose mouth was agog, and winked. He leaned back into his chair, raised his eyebrows a couple of more times, turned his head slightly to the side, and resumed his leer.

Ricardo alternated his gaze between the two ladies and then decided to examine his finger nails. “You may sit here all day, basking in my aura, if you wish.” His accent was over-the-top Italian. “But I warn you, there are people here who are extremely jealous of my ways with the women.” His W's had become V's. “And after a minute or two of staring, they will probably start charging you.” He hadn't taken his eyes off of his fingernails.

“Well, in that case, I believe that we will both have an iced tea,” Lisa said, as a crowd had started to gather.

“Very well,” he proclaimed loudly. “If I cannot entice you to try something tall, dark, and handsome I shall leave. But know this …” He jumped to his feet and shot an arm into the air. “One day soon I shall return, and when I do,”—his hand clutched his chest—“I shall bring you iced tea.” He took a dramatic step away and then turned back. “Think of me while I am gone, because the image of both of you has been burned into my heart.” He sauntered away to a smattering of applause.

“That was fantastic,” Lisa said, leaning toward Amanda and clasping her hand.

“It was,” Amanda answered, and despite the fact that she had enjoyed Ricardo's performance, Lisa seemed unhappy with her response. “What?” she asked.

Lisa took a moment and her smile slowly faded to an expression of mild discomfort. “This used to be your life, sweetheart. Not long ago you probably would have ended up dancing with that guy. It breaks my heart to see you this way; it's as if a light has gone out of the world.” Lisa dropped Amanda's gaze and fiddled with her napkin. “I should not have said that; it was stupid of me.”

“No, you're right, and Mindy was right. I have a choice to make. I either accept my life as it is, or I change it. Only I doubt I am going to get a modeling contract and become the mega-star she did.”

“You don't need a modeling contract, or to be a mega-star. And for the record, I think you are far more attractive than Mindy,” Lisa said.

“Not a chance,” Amanda answered, discreetly putting her hands in front of her breasts. “I'm a couple sizes short.”

“Even still, you're different from Mindy. She's Raquel Welch to your Gwyneth Paltrow; she's sexy to your elegance.”

“Elegant, huh,” Amanda smiled, and for the first time in a long time it wasn't so difficult.

“I have returned, and I hope my absence was not too painful,” Ricardo said, twirling around the two ladies as he served the iced teas. “You must know that I live to serve. Please tell me, what can I bring you to make your life complete?” Once again he slid into the chair opposite them.

“I believe that I will get a Cobb salad,” Lisa answered, after consulting the menu.

“I would like a turkey club on wheat bread,” Amanda followed.

Ricardo stood and put a forearm over his eyes and then a fist to his mouth. “Please excuse me for a moment,” he said, in a voice choked with emotion. “Setting aside the fact that you are my first guests of the day, that is the most perfect order I have had since yesterday. I must leave now before your beauty breaks my heart.” And Ricardo was gone in a dramatic rush.

“It's hard to have a conversation with Ricardo around,” Lisa said.

“Actually, he makes it a little easier.” Amanda sipped her tea. “What do you think about me going back to work?”

“I think it's a big step, but one in the right direction,” Lisa said, after a pause prompted in equal parts by the sudden shift in the conversation and the sudden shift in Amanda's attitude.

“You weren't expecting that, were you?” Amanda said almost playfully.

“Well, after this morning … It didn't sound like you were ready.”

“I wasn't, but now that this interview is behind me, plus the fact that I don't have to deal with Heather Waylens any more … it feels as if …” Amanda paused. “Mindy mentioned that there was a moment …” Amanda struggled and her face darkened, sudden and uncontrolled emotions welling up. It was almost two minutes before she continued. “Ever since the accident I have had this tiny voice in my head. It's Jacob, and he's saying that thing …”

“I hurt me self,” Lisa filled in, and both ladies started to tear.

“For a long time, every time I heard it in my head I just wanted to die. No matter where I was or what I was doing, if I heard his sweet little voice I …”

Lisa listened quietly.

“Michael was always the strong one. He made all the decisions; he protected me. I still wake up feeling his arms around me. Sometimes I'm not completely awake and I feel so safe, and then I remember. It's like losing them all over again.” Her tears were falling freely now.

A painful silence, filled with loss, followed. Finally, Amanda began to dry her eyes with a napkin. “For the last week or so when I hear Jacob … it doesn't … affect me the way it did.” She looked up into Lisa's eyes and held them for a long moment. “I hurt me self,” she said. The tears started again but Amanda didn't break the connection. “I think maybe this is my moment. I know I have to move on.”

Lisa smiled and silently took both of Amanda's hands.

“I know that I'll never be the person I was, but I think I'd like to try and find her,” Amanda said while squeezing her mother-in-law's hands.

“I'm so happy,” Lisa said quietly.

“I'm sorry for doing this here; I know you wanted to have a good time.” Amanda turned in her chair and began to look around, embarrassed by her public display. “Where is our Casanova?”

“Where were you thinking of working?” Lisa asked.

“The Lieber Institute. An old classmate called a month ago and asked if I had any interest.”

“Not a hospital?” Lisa looked confused.

“No. I think I need something different. The Lieber Institute coordinates public health at the state and international level. They also contract with the International Red Cross for disaster relief. It would mean a lot of traveling.”

“Well, I know we'll miss having you around all the time, but it sounds like an interesting opportunity. Are they based in Colorado Springs?”

“Now comes the hard part.” Amanda paused. “They're in Dallas.”

Ricardo swooped in and served them with a muted “Bon Appetite” as he disappeared.

“Dallas?” Lisa's voice had dropped.

“I still don't have all the details; I may not even have to move there. It's possible that I could do most of it over the internet.”

“That doesn't sound likely.” Lisa began to stir her salad aggressively. “What would you actually be doing?”

“A lot of logistics. Coordinating vaccinations in schools here in the States and in Central America.”

“That part doesn't sound all that stimulating. Why wouldn't they want a public health nurse for that?” Lisa answered quickly.

“They just need an RN. All the protocols are in place, and all that's needed is someone to coordinate them. Besides, that's just the day job. What they really want is someone willing to coordinate disaster response. I would be assigned to a team, and at first assist the senior coordinator with logistics. Sometime down the road, after I've gained enough experience, I would be assigned my own team.”

“Sounds like you've looked into this quite a bit.” Lisa's voice dropped another notch as Amanda watched her study the Cobb salad.

“Not really. Martha, my old classmate, sent me all the promotional material. She called me just before we left to make sure that I got everything, but I put her off and promised to read it while I was here.”

“Is this what you want, Amanda?”

“I don't know. I haven't lived outside of Colorado for a very long time, and the prospect of moving away from you and Greg terrifies me. On the other hand, I could use a fresh start. No reminders.” Her last sentence was only a whisper. “What do you think?”

“Well, you sound excited, and you haven't sounded excited about anything in a long time.” She looked up at Amanda and then quickly looked away “It scares me, you all alone in Dallas.” Lisa abruptly cut herself off and returned to picking out the black olives from her salad. “Who puts olives in a Cobb salad?”

“I'm not even sure it means a move. I'm not even sure this is what I want.” Amanda's voice began to drop as she watched her mother-in-law dissect her meal. “Maybe we should talk about this later.” She retreated into her club sandwich. The two ladies sat in silence for a long uncomfortable minute, conflicting emotions left unsaid.

“No, we should talk about this now,” Lisa said suddenly. “I was being selfish. A part of me wants to tell you that this is a terrible idea, so you'll stay with us and allow us to watch over you, but you don't need that. You don't need anybody.” Lisa took Amanda's hand. “We will always be here for you, but you need to do this for yourself. If the Lieber Institute or Dallas isn't right, then find something else that makes you feel happy.”

Amanda looked up to find Ricardo standing over Lisa, a guilty look on his face after inadvertently overhearing a part of their conversation.

“Sorry for interrupting.” Ricardo had reverted back to Richard. “I see that you are not a fan of olives,” he observed.

“Not in a Cobb salad.” Lisa smiled back at the waiter.

“Is there something else that I can bring you?” he asked Lisa. Amanda turned in response to the sudden change in persona, and he gave her a smile in return.

“No, I'm fine,” Lisa answered.

“I'm good,” Amanda said as he turned to her.

“You are so much better than good, mi amore.” Ricardo had returned. He dragged his fingertips along her bare shoulder, batted his eyebrows lasciviously, and sashayed away to another table, where he announced his presence by yelling: “What the hell do you want?”

“If disaster management doesn't work out, maybe I could come and work here,” Amanda said as she craned her neck watching their waiter's third persona.