The guards’ arm hairs stood on end, and one of them gasped. They released Tommy and he fell to the floor. Tommy jumped to his feet and seized their hands again, not wanting to lose his moment. He pushed the fear as hard as he could.
“I’m leaving,” Tommy hissed. “And you two are helping me.”
“Okay, okay!” One of the guards was nodding as fast as a bobble-headed doll. “Whatever you want.”
“Don’t hurt me,” the other guard pleaded. They both wore expressions like terrified little boys, and Tommy tried not to smile.
“You do what I say from here on,” Tommy said. “Understand?”
They understood.
Tommy left the prison in the trunk of a guard’s car. As Tommy instructed, the guard took him all the way to Baton Rouge. The guard also visited an ATM, emptied his checking account, and gave the cash to Tommy.
Tommy shook the guard’s hand before the guard got back in his car. He squeezed tight, and stared the shuddering man in the eyes.
“You won’t remember anything,” Tommy said. “You won’t tell anyone where you brought me. You’re going to forget all about our adventure.”
“Yeah, of course, of course,” the guard said. He looked on the verge of tears. His voice came out small and squeaky. “Whatever you want me to do.”
“Go home and forget about me.”
Tommy stood on the side of the boulevard and watched the prison guard drive away. Part of him couldn’t believe he’d pulled it off. Another part of him was beginning to feel like a real idiot for sitting in prison this long.
South Carolina lay several hundred miles to the east. Tommy started walking.
Chapter Five
Dr. Heather Reynard raced down the country highway at ninety miles an hour, while juggling her cell phone and a box of Zaxby’s chicken nuggets. After two months of living on canned beans and U.S. Army MRE’s, she thought the deep-fried chicken lumps tasted better than caviar.
“So, wait,” her husband, Liam, said on the phone. “You’re back home?”
“No,” Heather said. “I mean yes, I left Haiti. No, I’m not on my way home.”
“Then where are you?”
“In America.”
“That narrows it down.”
“I’m not supposed to say where I’m going, Liam.” Heather hesitated. “It’s somewhere in South Carolina, though.”
“That’s not far. Thank God you’re finally back. You’ll never guess what Tricia did to the dining room wall—”
“I am not back, Liam. Officially I’m still doing cholera in Haiti.”
“And what are you unofficially doing?”
“I don’t know!” Heather swerved around a slowpoke farm truck loaded with hay. “I’m guessing it’s urgent, because I just flew from Port-au-Prince to Augusta on a U.S. Postal Service airplane, and this is my first chance to call.”
“When did all this happen?”
“This morning. Early. Dr. Schwartzman sent for me. I don’t know why. Nobody’s telling me anything.”
“I’m guessing it’s not another salmonella outbreak, then.”
“Why did you have to say that? I’m eating chicken nuggets here.”
“You’re probably safe. Like I was saying, your daughter is a real artist now.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Heather said.
“She painted a mural in the dining room. In the medium of ketchup and mustard.”
“Ugh. That’ll be a mess to clean up.”
“Who’s cleaning?” Liam asked. “I’ll just slap a frame around it and tell people it’s a Jackson Pollock.”
“You’re so unbelievably hilarious,” Heather said. Following the directions she’d scrawled on her notepad, she turned off the main highway onto someplace called Esther Bridge Road, saw the National Guard roadblock, and hit the brakes. “Wow, this looks big. I have to go.”
“I love—“ she heard Liam say as she clicked the phone.
A Guardsman, about nineteen years old, walked towards Heather’s rental car, shaking his head. Heather lowered her window.
“Road’s closed, ma’am,” he said.
“I’m Dr. Reynard.” Heather showed her ID badge. “CDC. I’m supposed to be here.”
The Guardsman inspected her ID card closely, as if he were an expert in distinguishing between real and fake Centers for Disease Control badges.
“One sec. Wait here.” He walked away and consulted with an older Guardsman, who consulted with someone else via walkie-talkie, and then nodded.
Soldiers moved aside the orange cones that blocked the road, opening a lane for her between two big National Guard trucks. They’d blocked off the left lane completely with their trucks, as if more concerned about people getting out than people getting in. Interesting.