Only One Cure by Jenifer Ruff

Author:Jenifer Ruff [Ruff, Jenifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781733957045
Publisher: Greyt Companion Press
Published: 2020-03-03T16:00:00+00:00

18

Simone jumped from the bus and raced across the street.

Cars screeched to a halt around her. Horns blared. Someone leaned out their window to swear at her. Others laughed. She pumped her arms, running as fast as she could in black espadrilles and an orange pantsuit.

Orange pantsuit?

Sweat beaded on her forehead and rolled into her eyes. She kept looking over her shoulder.

Is it coming?

Are they coming?

She tripped over a pile of discarded cardboard and fell to the dirty pavement. A crowd of men in suits and dark aviator glasses stared and pointed. “Is that Simone Pulaski? The Secretary of Health and Human Services? No way. Look at her!”

No one helped her up. She scrambled to her feet on her own. Keep going! She couldn’t see who or what was chasing her, didn’t dare glance back again, but she knew it was gaining. She had to run. . . or else.

A rusty, abandoned snow plow appeared underneath the overpass. She climbed inside. Her shaking hand turned the key and it roared to life. Her heart raced as she floored the gas pedal and barreled through the busy city streets. I haven’t driven in years. How do I know how to operate this thing? What if I kill someone?

Something shifted. She was no longer living the nightmare, so much as watching it happen to herself.

This isn’t real! You can stop driving right now. Snap out of it. Wake up!

She opened her eyes to darkness. Rain pattered rhythmically against her bedroom windows.

Her clothes were damp with sweat. Cold tremors sent aching chills through her bones. She rolled onto her side and pulled open her bedside drawer. Opening her pill bottle, she placed one of the tiny white circles on her tongue and swallowed.

She lay still, focusing on the comforting sensation of her anxiety fading away. After contemplating the chances of falling back to sleep, she got out of bed and walked through her quiet townhome to the kitchen.

A flick of a switch shut off the timed cycle on her coffee maker—set for two hours from now. She started the manual cycle.

She understood the dream’s meaning. Avoidance of something big and scary. Yet she wasn’t afraid. Between the Outbreak Response Operation and the FBI forces working on combatting the illness and its perpetrators, there simply had to be a positive outcome.

Or was the dream about her addiction? She shook her head. No. Everything was under control. She allowed herself to finish one cup of coffee before she gathered her phone and laptop, already reading the updates on one while logging into the other.

I’m going to rehab as soon as this is over. Until then. . . I’ve got a job to do.

♦ ♦ ♦

Anna Moreland sat behind her desk, squinting at her monitor, kneading her knuckles as she read the update prepared by Dr. Hamilton.

Simone turned sideways on the long, formal couch and stared at the White House lawn. She stifled a yawn. The upside to insomnia was she had more time to get things done, but she couldn’t deny feeling lousy.

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