Page 55 of Airborne
The afternoon sun moved over Brooklyn and northeast to Queens, leaving shadows of the day behind. People busy with their lives breathed in the activity of their worlds.
Heather believed in the media’s commitment to inform the public of breaking news as long as their reports raised the bannerof truth. She sided with their constitutional right to free speech, but today a broadcaster supported the murmur of eliminating every person on Adam’s Island. Another interview from a grieving woman, who’d lost a sister to H9N15, blamed Chad, the FBI, and the CDC. The woman went on to say she despised Heather’s reckless and irresponsible behavior. “As a member of the FBI, Agent Heather Lawrence knew her husband’s ability to inflict harm and chose to ignore him. Why isn’t she speaking out?”
Far-fetched, and yet people clamored for more.
Heather leaned against a huge rock and listened to the waves slap and claw against the shore’s edge. Rhythmic. Hypnotic. Each wave represented a lapse of time, moments when she longed to be back in Houston working alongside her team.
Would her son one day blame her for the shattered lives and premature deaths, a red stain in history as a result of her neglect?
Her intent to explore Salzburg had vanished for a crisis she’d never anticipated, but her desire to rekindle her relationship with God deepened. If anything, she needed Him more than before. How sad it took the reality of raising a child by herself to inch back to Him.
Oh, God, I’m so sorry to have replaced You with Chad. Please forgive me and guide me through today and tomorrow. I’m scared for my baby and the many people stricken with the virus.
She stared at the soldier who guarded the island. He held his rifle ready to swing into action. Did he fear contracting the disease? Did he have loved ones who needed him? Like those in quarantine, did he fear he’d be the next victim?
Heather walked toward the soldier to thank him for his service. He raised his rifle and bolted to his right, away from her. “Stop! Now!”
Her gaze swept his direction. A woman scrambled to the water’s edge. She waded in. The water splashed at her waist... shoulders... A second soldier raced into the water. The woman swamwith the agility of an athlete, but so did the soldier. He grabbed her and pulled her back to shore.
She screamed. “Let me go, you idiot. I don’t have to stay here.”
The woman could have drowned.
Or been shot.
Maybe stealing an opportunity for freedom looked better to her than staring down a killer virus.
Heather sat across from Tatum and Catherine in the cafeteria and listened to Tatum talk about her life in Houston. The young woman loved the vibrant city.
“You’re a senior in college and plan to graduate early,” Heather said. “Where are you attending? What’s your major?”
“Rice University, and my major is communications, with minors in Spanish and Russian. I’ll work for my dad while in grad school.”
“What does he do?”
Tatum grinned. “He’s the senior pastor at Mercy Community Church. Dad also has a radio and Internet ministry.”
Catherine glanced up from a crossword puzzle, one of Mom’s favorite pastimes. “My sister goes to Mercy and has tried to get me to change my current membership. The church is huge, a little intimidating.”
“I understand. Our life groups provide a community environment and family feel.”
“Once home, I’ll attend to appease my sister and because I like the senior pastor’s daughter.”
“God’s where His people worship,” Tatum said. “I’ve grown up in the church. Can’t picture not spending my life anywhere but in God’s service. Dad’s goal is to expand online ministries worldwide and in various languages. And God is calling me to jump on board the train, too.”
Heather had envisioned Tatum’s life anything but a Christian, confirmation first impressions were often wrong. Could the same judgment error in her psyche affect discovering the real culprit? Who hid their identity on Adam’s Island?
“You have a noble calling,” Heather said. “If we must be in quarantine, I’m glad it’s with believers.”
“Amen.” Catherine closed her crossword puzzle book and turned a tender glance at Heather. “Are you praying?”
“Always. Afraid to stop in case the enemy gains a stronger foothold.”
“You should be home enjoying your pregnancy, designing a nursery,” Catherine said.
“I will when this is over.”
“How far along are you?”
