Ebola K: A Terrorism Thriller Read Free Page A

Rashid hopped over the short hedge and tromped on the
worn, patchy grass on their way to the open front door.
    “Benoit? Margaux?” Austin called as he
stepped into the main room. It was unusual for no one to be home.
“Isaac?”
    “I’ll bet Isaac is drinking with that cabbage
farmer.” Rashid nodded toward the back of the house where Benoit
and Margaux shared a room. “I’ll bet I know what they’re doing.”
Rashid stopped to listen.
    “No. I don’t hear anything.” Austin crossed
through the brightly painted, overly decorated living room, then
glanced in the kitchen and through the windows on the back of the
house. “She’s usually pretty noisy. You’d know already if they were
doing it.”
    “Maybe they’re done and they went to
sleep.”
    “Go knock on their door and see if they’re in
there.” Austin went into the kitchen and poured some water from one
of the jugs. He hollered, “We’re almost out of water and it’s your
turn to boil.”
    “Nobody here,” Rashid called, his voice
notching a few tones higher as he walked toward the living room. He
was getting anxious.
    “This is weird.” Austin crossed the living
room again, tossed his backpack on the worn old couch, and dropped
down beside it.
    Rashid stood in the center of the living room
and looked down at Austin. “Nobody is outside. Benoit and Margaux
are gone—”
    “They’re not here.” Austin shook his head
slowly and took another drink. “That doesn’t imply whatever you
think you’re implying when you say gone . Maybe they got
tired of doing it in the bedroom and are off in the jungle,
pretending they’re horny monkeys or something.”
    “You don’t think this is weird?” Rashid
asked.
    “You’re letting your imagination convince you
that something was wrong,” said Austin. “You need to be cool,
Rashid. It’s dinnertime. Everybody is at home eating.”
    Rashid replied, “That’s stupid. You know
everybody doesn’t go inside and eat at exactly the same time.”
    “I know. I’m just saying that you’re getting
worked up for no reason. It’s like all the business you told me on
the way here from Mbale about there being a billion people in
Africa and only a couple thousand cases of Ebola in recorded
history was just some bullshit you were telling yourself so that you wouldn’t be scared.” Austin grinned. “Are you worried
about Ebola, Rashid? You can tell me.”
    “It’s no wonder Najid doesn’t like
Americans.”
    “Your brother doesn’t like us because we’re
smartasses?” Austin laughed. “Or is it because now that he suffers
the burden of counting all your father’s oil money he’s pissed
because we won’t buy Priuses?”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “Nothing,” said Austin. “Get a drink. Put
your stuff on your bunk and we’ll go out and see what’s up.
Cool?”
    Rashid kicked a stray pillow to demonstrate
his frustration and headed toward the room he shared with
Austin.
    Austin drank the rest of his water, stood up,
and looked out at the street through the front window. Still, no
one was out. It was weird. But he was sure there was an
explanation. It could be fear over the Ebola rumors. The army had blocked the road. That would be enough to frighten the
people of any town.
    Rashid came out of the room and went into the
kitchen to get himself a cup of water. Some pots rattled as he
looked for the kettle. “I could make some tea. Do you want
any?”
    “Up to you. You want to go out and find out
what’s going on first?”
    Austin heard Rashid set the teakettle on the
counter. Then he didn’t hear anything. He looked back into the
kitchen. Rashid’s head was down. He wasn’t moving. Austin asked,
“Are you worried?”
    “Najid called me yesterday. He says all he
sees on the news are stories about Ebola. I told him not to worry.
Ebola is in West Africa. We’re in East Africa. But he kept telling
me about all the hundreds of people who are dying and about how
this is the worst