Table of contents, so far
October 23, 2014 11:10 am, Dallas, TX
John Thomas could not believe what he was watching on TV right now. Erin Burnett was describing on CNN how the CDC were looking for a man in security footage obtained from Lone Star X-Fit. The footage, which they were playing on repeat, showed a man described as about 5 ft 11, 210 pounds, grabbing a short girl, throwing her to the ground, and walking out the door.
The girl in the video was Melissa McElroy, the receptionist at Lone Star X-Fit, and was being touted as a hero for saving the life of Denise Weinstein, who moments before had tried to enter the fitness establishment where some thirty people were exposed to the Ebola virus. Seven of those thirty, including Miss McElroy and a volunteer firefighter, Billy Blount, were admitted to Texas Presbyterian last night - all within an hour of each other, which was described as being much more synchronized than they would've expected. There was an eighth patient, too - but they said she had no known connection to Steve Thomas.
John grabbed some more chips out of the bowl and used them to shovel salsa into his mouth. This was insane. He could not believe the authorities had video of him throwing that girl on the ground. But what was he supposed to do? Just stay there? With Ebola-boy puking all over the place? He felt bad for throwing her out of the way, but he had to get out of there, and frankly, so did all of those other people. If he hadn't done that, It would've been a whole hell of a lot more than seven people who got it.
"So what the hell do I do? Turn myself in? Everybody's gonna call me a jerk because I pushed her out of my way. Or a coward. Hell, they might press charges! Fuck fuck fuck. What do I do?" He thought to himself as he plopped another chip into his mouth.
"Jesus, John! Leave a little for the rest of us, huh? What's with you, anyway? You seem like you're somewhere else!"
"Wha? Oh, sorry guys. I'm just preoccupied with all the craziness."
"What - you think you might have Ebooooola? Hey, Jimmy - John thinks he's got Eeeebooooooolaaaa!"
"Nah - I don't think that. It's just freaky, ya know?"
"Ha! Look - even with all the people who have it here, it's still nothing compared to the flu. Quit worrying."
At this moment, CNN changed the video they were playing from the crappy indoor security camera, to an outdoor shoot of John walking out of Lone Star X-Fit and getting in his BMW. A few seconds later, he backs out and drives off. CNN then repeated the entire shot; as he was walking to his car, he looked up - almost directly into the camera, and CNN froze the shot on his face. They zoomed in, showing a grainy, highly pixelized, but still very recognizable picture of John.
He stared choking on his chip. He grabbed his water and started trying to wash out his mouth, but his reflexes kicked in, and he started coughing.
"Hey, John - this guy on TV looks a bit like you. He even drives the same car. Ain't that some shit, huh?"
John, still coughing, tried to look nonchalant. He shook his head.
"John, hey - is that you?"
John started sweating. "Oh crap - they know." He couldn't control his coughing now, and it included a scratch at the back of his throat. He watched as a particle he coughed out of his mouth flew across the table and landed on Mike's hand.
"John - seriously. Is that fucking guy you? Were you there on Monday?"
John realized there was no denying it now. Not really. He nodded. In between coughs, he pleaded his case, "but look - I'm not sick. Everybody else got sick yesterday. I'm fine!" "You have no idea how scary that was. I was right there! That guy, Steve - he was just out. I saw him jogging just a few minutes before. I had to get the fuck out of there!"
Mike was already calling the CDC. "Dude, this isn't cool. I can't believe you did this! And you still came to lunch, too! What the fuck?"
John started to feel like he needed to leave. He stood up. Mike got up, too. "John - you can't go anywhere."
"Yeah. You're right." John made a motion like he was going to sit down, but at the last moment, he bolted for the door. Mike ran after him, but John was fast. A waiter was in his way, so John pushed the waiter onto the table, making him spill three orders of scalding hot fajitas on the unlucky patrons seated next to the door. A second later, and John had made it outside.
Freedom. But now what? John fumbled in his pocket for his keys, and got in his car. He thought for a moment about the fact that he was stranding his friends at the restaurant, but then suppressed the guilt, and drove off.
"Yeah - CDC? My name is Mike Goldberg. I know who the guy at the gym was. Yeah, the guy who knocked that girl down trying to get out the door. I'm 100% certain. His name is John Thomas. He's a lawyer at my firm, and he just left us at La Cucaracha Mexican Grill over here at the corner of Alamo and Broom. Yeah - we'll wait here. He's driving a 2014 BMW 740i. Midnight Blue."
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