Centers for Disease Control

Atlanta, GA

16 June, 2019

2:15 pm

"This is posturing, Helen. I'm being sent there because I made him look like a fool."

Dr. Richard Crenshaw hated politics. In his eyes, men with agendas had far deeper consequences for humans than any outbreak. At least with an outbreak, you knew what you were dealing with.

Microorganisms didn't care who they took as a host. Rich or poor, black or white, Red State or Blue State. If a 'bug' entered a new body, it did what all life does: survive and reproduce. Equal opportunity infection. They were absolutely beautiful in their simplicity, and Doctor Crenshaw would prefer them over people any day.

Unfortunately, it was people that employed him, making contact with the ones he so deeply mistrusted inevitable.

"Whatever the reason, sir," the silver-haired woman said, her voice as lifeless as her bespectacled eyes, "Dr. Grayson wants you in Birmingham immediately."

"Well," he said, a defeated sigh slowly leaving his chest, "Emperor Grayson will just have to wait an extra hour. My girls deserve to hear it in person."

******

The commute to his Stone Mountain home was something Richard usually looked forward to. The foothills of the Appalachian Mountains offered a rare scenic beauty: lush green hills dotted by farms and small towns, in stark contrast to the grittiness of downtown Atlanta. Richard found himself on so many afternoons slowing down to enjoy the drive. Today, however, had been a bag of mixed frustrations. Work had become almost unbearable since he'd publicly questioned his boss's decision to shift funds from vaccination to research and development. Being labeled a whistle blower–no matter what one's intentions–was tantamount to getting shot in the foot before going on a long hike. Not something Richard had thought of when he started taking his stand.

It had started as a heated topic between Manager and Doctor, one as old as medicine itself: to vaccinate with serums we currently have, or study the virus for new ones. But when Dr. Crenshaw discovered his Superior working with the US Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Disease (USAMRIID) the military's super-secretive biological research arm, he was livid. In a move that amounted to professional suicide, he'd leaked his information to the media, causing a firestorm that burned white-hot through every office of the CDC.

The official response came via a congressional hearing. The select committee of Washington bigwigs, in the eyes of the public at least, always seemed just around the corner from getting to the truth.

"The American people deserve to know," grumbled politicians vying for election year sound bytes.

But as is the case with all things political, a different story was taking place behind the public spectacle. Both the accused, and the whistleblower were taken from their promising careers in Washington, and thrown back into the field, out of CDC Headquarters in Atlanta. The move was a way of silencing both those involved, as well as any outside critics who'd call into question anything else.

Thus, Dr. Richard Crenshaw, and Dr. Warren Grayson, would spend the remaining years of their respective careers, silently drudging the unambiguous.

Thoughts of his mistaken past began to fade behind him, as the green highway sign came into view.

EXIT 43

SR12/US 278/COVINGTON HWY.

1 MI.

RIGHT LANE EXIT ONLY.

A wave of emotion washed over him, as the meaning of the sign took away everything else. He'd be home soon. That usually left his heart excited, eager to be with his wife and daughter. But a pang of apprehension knawed at his gut as the moment grew nearer. He was going to have to disappoint his little girl.

This weekend was one he looked forward to every year since the day she was born. Jasmine Marie Crenshaw was everything he held sacred. With her sky blue eyes and mother's raven hair, she  was as beautiful as a spring morning. Having inherited both their thirsts for knowledge, Richard, and all who knew him, saw his little Jazzy maturing into something special.

But unlike so many of his colleagues that had put their kids in program after program, trying to mold new world leaders, Richard and his wife made the conscious decision to step back a bit, and let her grow as the beautiful child she was.

After all, she'd have her whole life to be an adult.

So when the third Saturday in June came every year, it became all about letting her enjoy being a kid. Some families saved for vacations. The Crenshaws threw a party for one special little girl.

A party he now had to miss.

Working out his speech to her in his head, he drove the last few miles down Covington, and pulled into his driveway. Sitting in the car, as if preparing himself to be tortured, he looked at the second story window of his New England Colonial home.
A smile grew on his face, as Richard watched the My Little Pony curtains parted, then quickly closed. It made him laugh knowing that his wife–and love of his life–Veronica was now chasing her down the stairs and towards the front door.

In 3...2...1...

"Jazzy, don't you run out that door," A flustered Veronica yelled out, as the front door flung open wide.

"Daddy!" Totally ignoring her now frustrated mom, the six year old bundle of pure energy lowered her head and made a beeline to her daddy.

The 'run up', while making him burst with happiness, always made him a little nervous. At full speed, a kids head in the right place can do a whole lot of damage. He didn't need his Doctorate in epidemiology to know that.

"Hey, booger!" He said, yanking her up in his arms, just in time. "How's my Jazzy?"

Jasmine rolled her bright blue eyes, mimicking her mother, no doubt. "How you tink I am daddy?" An excited smile, as bright as the summer sun, played across her dimpled cheeks. "It's my birthday!"

In a move that almost made Richard drop her, the six year old bounced rapidly in his arms. Her over abundant energy made him think that just maybe, she'd charmed her mother out of licking the icing spoon as she frosted the birthday cake.

"You're gonna hurt your daddy, Jazz." Veronica said, lifting their daughter from Richard's arms, setting her on the driveway. "He's getting old."

Smiling as Jasmine headed back to play, he slid Veronica's hand into his, and pulled her close. "Getting old, Ronnie?" Richard said, as he let his lips softly brush hers. He loved kissing her, loved the way she held her breath and fluttered her eyes closed, as her lips parted to meet his. In the years they'd been together, he'd always savored each one like it was the last.

"Mmmm," she cooed, as her palm gently pressed the area over his heart. As she slowly broke the kiss, her deep blue-green eyes locked on his.

"Ronnie, I'm so sorry..."

"Shhhh," she whispered, her eyes never leaving his. "I know you are. I get frustrated sometimes Richard, I can admit that. But this path you've chosen in life, it provides very well for us, and sometimes you just have to go where it leads you."

"But, Jazzy," he said, his eyes dropping to the floor.

"Your little girl is on a cloud right now. I just told her that since daddy won't be able to come till next week, she gets two birthdays this year."

They spent the rest of the hour  he'd allotted himself in their bedroom. Veronica packed as Richard listened intently to the reason why owls don't sleep at night.

"M'cause daddy, Mr Owl, he eats yucky mice and it made his tummy hurt, and so he couldn't sleep, and m'cause owls can't talk he says hoot hoot m'cause it hurt hurt. And...and..."

God, I wish I had her energy.

"You know what kiddo?" Richard smiled lovingly at his little scientist of a daughter.

"What daddy?"

"You're the smartest 5 year old I know."

"Daddy," she said, a look of utter seriousness on her little face. "I'm six."

With bags packed, and owl diets confirmed, the Crenshaw family walked Richard to his Lincoln, and both kissed him as he slid in the driver's seat.

"Richard, sweetheart, please be careful. This field work, it's always worried me for you." The concern on Veronica's face mirrored her words, giving her a deep, almost sad look. How he wished he could just stay here.

Placing the gear in drive, he placed his foot on the brake and turned back to kiss his wife. "Mmm, Mrs. C., I sure do love those."

"And I love you, Mr. C."

"So how'd you know I had to go in the field, anyway? Grayson?"

Veronica smiled and shook her head. "He's not the Devil, Richard. He called out of respect for you, he knew it's your daughter's birthday."

"Well, the jury's still out on the Devil bit," he said, placing a palm on Veronica's soft cheek. "But you... You're my Angel. I love you girls."

"Luhh you too Daddy!!" Jazzy called after him, waving like little girls do, as he pulled from his driveway.

Glancing down at the center console, he noticed the orange light flashing on his phone.

17 missed calls.

This can't be good.

Laying his index finger in the middle of the screen, Richard opened his phone, turned on Bluetooth, and returns Dr. Grayson's call.

"I'm on my way, Warren. You..." Richard paused as he searched for the right words. "Thank you for calling her."

"All good, Dr. Crenshaw. But I need you here, now."

Richard felt a sudden pang of uneasiness over the urgency in his superior's voice. "The situation... it's gotten worse?"

"A lot," Dr. Grayson said, solemnly. "Sammy Kehoe died about 45 minutes ago."