“There isn’t time to just look into it!” Darcy said. “Jenny’s in Charleston now. There’s a music festival. And she bet her boyfriend, Seth, she bet him that she could kill ten thousand people this time.”
“Are you serious?”
“Honest to God! Everyone’s even taking bets on how many people will die. It’s weird. It’s like some people are actually looking forward to it, or at least they don’t care. I didn’t know who else to call because most people wouldn’t know enough to believe me.”
“Are you sure about this, Darcy?” Heather felt a cold, sinking feeling in her gut. This was her worst-case nightmare, Jenny going to a densely populated area. And it sounded like the girl actually enjoyed infecting people.
“Yeah, it’s horrible!” Darcy said. “You have to do something. The police, or the Army, or something! You can’t let her get away with it again.”
“I can’t just call up the Army,” Heather said.
“You’d better find an army somewhere,” Darcy said. “Or Jenny is going to destroy that city, and it’s gonna be worse than 9/11. I have to go now. Please bring help, okay? Nobody else will.” Darcy hung up.
“Jesus Christ,” Heather said.
“Cheeses rice.” Tricia giggled.
“Don’t swear, Tricia.” Heather took the girl under one arm, then carried her to the office. She needed to get in touch with Schwartzman, and with somebody at Homeland Security who had the power to mobilize.
Before long, Nelson Artleby would get wind of the situation, and Heather wanted things moving well before that happened. Her first concern was public health, but Nelson’s was politics, and that could lead to some very poor decisions.
She called Schwartzman at home.
After Darcy walked away to answer her phone, Wooly turned to Seth.
“Dude,” Wooly said, “What the hell?”
“What the hell what?” Seth forked a spicy chunk of sausage into his mouth.
“Why is she with us? Why is she with you?”
“I told you, she’s my girlfriend’s friend, she needed a ride to Orientation—”
“Okay, okay, that’s all good,” Wooly nodded. “But listen, you can’t bring home a sweet slice of titty-tang with the Goodyear blimp parked in your penthouse, know what I’m saying?”
“What do you expect me to do, throw her out?”
“Just park her ass at the Holiday Inn, S-dog. That’ll clear your way for a taste of the tang.”
“I’m not trying to get laid this weekend, anyway,” Seth said. “I just want to get drunk and see Willie Nelson.”
“Aw, come on,” Wooly said. “It’s Saturday night, summertime, Funk Fest—everybody’s getting laid this weekend. Am I right?” Wooly high-fived the other two guys, who nodded and “Hell yeah”d along with him.
“Whatever.” Seth threw the empty Styrofoam bowl into a big steel drum of a trash can. “You guys are gonna pass out under one of these trees and wake up with a dog pissing in your face in the morning.”
All of three of them laughed.
“Damn, S-dog, don’t hold back,” Wooly said.
“Give me that vodka.” Seth took the thermos and took a swig, probably two or three shots’ worth. It was good vodka, too, very smooth.
They passed it around, while Wooly told a very long and meticulously detailed story about the time he’d almost hooked up with an Asian skater chick, except she barfed and passed out.
“All right, last shot goes to my man S-dog.” Wooly passed Seth the thermos, where the vodka was nearly depleted. “I’m gonna make sure you have a good time tonight. Priority one…” He looked past Seth and his eyes widened. “Hit the brakes. New priority one. Tap that shit.”
Darcy was returning, arm in arm with a girl Seth didn’t know—for a moment, though, he could have sworn it was Ashleigh. Tall, blond, same build, almost the same tits, even. As if Darcy had specifically sought out someone that looked like her.
“Hey guys,” Darcy said. “This is my new friend Allegra. We just totally bonded over some Redheaded Sluts in that bar.” She pointed vaguely behind her.
“We totally did!” the blond girl agreed. She was smiling so wide her face was about to split. Closer up, she didn’t look too much like Ashleigh at all. She looked kind of East European or Russian, something like that. “I love Redheaded Sluts!”
“Me, too!” Darcy said, and they burst into drunken laughter.
Wooly stepped forward to introduce himself to the blond girl.
“I’m Chris,” he said. “But everybody calls me Wooly. Cause I’m mammoth.”