“Come back now,” the clerk said before moving on to the next customer behind Blake. “Mornin’ Sheriff!”

Blake cringed and jerked his head to the right. The sheriff stepped up a foot and stood beside him.

“Mornin’, Mary Ellen,” the sheriff said as he read the clerk’s name badge. He turned his head to Blake. “Mornin’, Blake.”

“Sheriff!” Blake said before turning his gaze to Mary Ellen, not sure what else to say. He looked down to his shoes for a moment. “Well, so long, Sheriff.” Blake turned and began toward the door. As he did, the sheriff left the line and followed him through the door.

“Blake, give me one second if you don’t mind,” the sheriff said as they stood outside. Blake turned to look at the sheriff, but said nothing.

“You don’t have anything new to report about them boys missing, do you?” the sheriff asked.

Blake thought about the wording the sheriff chose. Had he asked “have you seen them boys” or “have you heard anything new about them boys” then the answer would have been an easy “no.” But he had phrased the question differently. “You don’t have anything new to report...do you?” He tried to figure out what the sheriff meant. Was the sheriff giving Blake another chance to report something...anything that he may have omitted before? Or was it simply careless phrasing on the sheriff’s part with no specific meaning intended other than the obvious?

“No sheriff, I haven’t heard anything about them.” Blake’s reply was measured.

“Hmmm,” the sheriff said as he looked around, surveying the parking lot.

Blake stood and waited for the sheriff. The sheriff stood silently and Blake was faced with the option of standing poised or saying something to the sheriff, even if all he said was that he needed to leave. The sheriff succeeded in flushing Blake out of the pocket.

“Is there any news on them?” Blake asked.

“Not much,” the sheriff began, “but we found some interesting pictures on one of the boy’s Facebook page.” The sheriff said no more.

“What kind of pictures...or is that private?” Blake asked.

“Well,” the sheriff said, “a picture of one of the fellas in a wooded area in front of a whole mess of pigs. Then there was another of him standing in front of a shed of some sort. Couldn’t make out the details but looked like some stuff was hanging in there.”

Blake’s pulse quickened. He sipped his coffee, so as to act nonchalant, but the caffeine would do nothing to help slow his heart rate. He said the only thing that he felt he could. “Hmmm.”

“Yeah,” the sheriff continued, “pretty strange. He was working on some kind of farming, ’round here I reckon, but nobody knows nothing about it.” The sheriff looked at Blake, who said nothing. “You don’t know anyone messing with pigs, do you Blake?”

He knows, of course he knows! There’s no way he don’t know, Blake said to himself. He didn’t know what to say or what to do. He just wanted this to all go away so badly so he could start over. I repent, I repent, Blake said, only he said it to himself. Not to the sheriff.

The sheriff didn’t wait for an answer.

“Of course, we expect to know more soon,” the sheriff said. “One of his Facebook friends commented on the pics so we’re gonna contact him. Already sent a subpoena to Facebook to get access to Jesse’s account, the fella that’s missing.” The sheriff stood as calm as could be, allowing his words to sink in.

“I sure hope you find ’em, Sheriff,” Blake said, “and I hope they’re okay.” He meant it. “Well, so long, Sheriff. I gotta get going.”

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you, Blake.”

***

TUESDAY 8:06 A.M: ATLANTA, GEORGIA

Clint Justice pulled into the parking lot of the parking garage on Alabama Street in downtown Atlanta for his 8:30 a.m. meeting with the USDA district manager. He parked the car and reached to turn off the ignition key, but hesitated so he could catch up on the local news.

“Support for WABE comes from WallCloud, providing dependable web hosting for mission critical applications. More at WallCloud.com. This is your home for Atlanta’s classics and NPR News, the time is 8:06. Now the news. A spokesperson at Athens Regional Medical Center said a second person has died in as many days from what doctors are calling flu-like symptoms. The spokesperson said the hospital has experienced a spike in flu-like symptoms since Sunday, and are cooperating with both the CDC and Georgia Health Department, as many of the afflicted are from out of state. Yesterday, a thirty-four-year old New York woman died in Athens, as did a forty-two-year old Dallas businessman. Both died at Athens Regional Medical Center. In all, the hospital admitted over twenty people yesterday with flu-like symptoms. Neither avian nor swine flu has been ruled out. In weather, Hurricane Isabel is expected to hit the Bahamas this evening as a Category 3 storm. Forecasters predict it will continue to strengthen and make U.S. landfall somewhere between Jacksonville, Florida and Charleston, South Carolina by Thursday evening. This is John Mattock for WABE News.”

Clint turned the key and sat in the car for a moment.

***

TUESDAY 9:10 A.M: SAN SALVADOR, BAHAMAS

Doctor Severino Ortega parked his jeep in front of the rented beach home and tried unsuccessfully to open the driver’s door. The steady, southerly winds already exceeded seventy miles per hour even though the eye of the storm was almost nine hours away. Seve, as his friends back in Spain knew him, crawled over the center console and opened the passenger door. The wind flung it open violently, threatening to warp the door on its hinges. The doctor grabbed his bag and fought his way to the front door and let himself in. John heard the front door open and the winds howl through the house. He left Rose’s side and went in to greet the doctor.

“Doctor,” John said pleading, begging, “she’s in here.” Seve followed John into the bedroom. Wind-driven rain and sand pelted the side of the house and the windows. Seve looked at the windows vibrating as he walked into the room. “I hope those windows hold,” he said.

“I couldn’t leave her,” John began, “so I didn’t have any time to board the windows, and didn’t have anything to use if I did. So I hung those blankets on the inside.”

“Well, looks like the eye is headed for Nassau and will pass west of here,” Seve said. “We won’t get the worst of it but we’ll get a wallop. And we’ll be cut off from Nassau and the U.S.” Seve sat his bag on the floor next to Rose and sat on the bed. He needlessly put his hand to her head but he could see that she was soaked with sweat.

“I’m scared, Doctor,” John said, his voice shaking. “She was unresponsive all night. The last she spoke to me was about 2:00 a.m. or so, saying that both her chest and abdomen hurt. She has been a little delirious at times.”

Seve took the thermometer out of Rose’s mouth and made a note of the temperature of 103 degrees. He placed his stethoscope over Rose’s lungs and listened closely. The wind whistled and battered the house, making it difficult to concentrate. What he heard through the stethoscope concerned him more than what he was hearing outside the house. He cupped his hands over his ears and concentrated on the continuous sound of the rhonchi that was reminiscent of constant, low-level snoring. It was a sound he had heard in patients before and it was never a good sign. As he removed his stethoscope Seve surveyed John. Other than being distraught, John looked perfectly fine. “On the phone late last night, you said you thought she had the flu,” Seve said. “Why did you say that?”

“Because, that’s what Rose said when we landed on Sunday. Just that she felt like she was coming down with the flu. Then she started feeling better and actually looked fine yesterday morning, which is why I left for the day. What was I thinking?” John started to ramble and get off topic. He had never been so scared. When he looked out the front door an hour before, the low clouds and crashing surf attacked him relentlessly. He shut the door and came to be with Rose, pacing the room frantically and waiting for the island’s only doctor to get here after seeing other patients who just couldn’t wait.