Hitchers Read Free Page B

Detroit than Atlanta. I ducked my head, clamped a fist over my collar and trotted through a haze of snow flurries to my car.
    I didn’t understand how Lyndsay could be the same woman who wrote the profile I’d responded to. Quirky, easygoing bookworm who loves organic gardening and wandering Little Five Points . I felt guilty about running out; it was clear from Lyndsay’s reaction that she had a good heart.
    As soon as I was out of the parking lot I called Annie.
    â€œI lost it. Completely melted down. Something made me think of Lorena, and that was it.”
    â€œAw,” she said. “I’m sorry.” She coughed thickly.
    â€œYou sound worse.”
    â€œI’ve never felt so terrible.”
    â€œI’m coming over. Is there anything I can get you?” Up ahead, a police officer was diverting traffic. Barricades were set up across Piedmont Avenue.
    â€œThat’s okay. I’m way out of your way.”
    â€œI’m coming,” I said. “It’d be nice to see a friendly face right now. What can I bring you?”
    I hung a right onto Baker, then tried to go left on Courtland, but it was blocked off as well. Red lights flashed languidly on three or four parked cruisers. I craned my neck as I drove past, peering
down the blocked-off street. A dozen police officers and people in blue windbreakers conferred in the middle of the street.
    â€œWow, something’s going on downtown. Everything’s blocked off.”
    Further down I spotted another half-dozen officers. One of them was running—not trotting, running—toward the huddled group.
    â€œThere are police everywhere,” I added.
    â€œCan you see smoke or anything?” Annie asked.
    â€œNo.”
    I drove on. I despised onlookers who lined up at barricades, nosing to find out what was going on even though it had nothing to do with them, and I didn’t want to be one.
    Annie was quiet—either waiting for an update or feeling too sick to talk.
    Peachtree was blocked as well.
    â€œDamn. It’s all blocked off.”
    An ambulance was parked halfway on the sidewalk. Nearby, a guy was handing out medical masks from a red plastic crate. Some of the police were already wearing them, their mouths and noses hidden under a white swatch.
    â€œYou okay?” I asked Annie. She sounded wheezy.
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œI was going to stop and get you soup, but I’m thinking I should come straight there.”
    â€œThanks, I don’t feel like soup anyway. You get full credit for the thought, though.”
    A big, unmarked black truck rumbled past, swerved to a stop at the next corner. The back door flew open and seven or eight men in military uniforms jumped out carrying assault rifles.
    â€œOh, shit,” I said.
    A news van pulled up beside the truck.
    â€œWhat?” Annie asked.
    â€œThere are soldiers running around. Is this on the news?”
    I clicked on the radio, turned to WSB. They were covering the flu
outbreak at the moment—no mention of blocked-off streets and soldiers with guns.
    The air was filled with the whine of sirens. I cracked the window: it sounded like a pack of coyotes howling.
    â€œJesus,” I muttered.
    â€œIt’s on TV,” Annie said. I heard a news anchor’s voice in the background, waited while Annie listened. “They don’t know what’s going on. They think it’s about the flu outbreak. People are being rushed to hospitals.”
    The door to an apartment building flew open. Two paramedics rushed out carrying a stretcher. Two more followed close behind with a second stretcher. I pulled over, rolled down my window.
    â€œWhat’s going on?”
    One guy looked up at me and shook his head. It might have meant he didn’t know, or that he wasn’t saying, if it wasn’t for the warning in his eyes. He was saying I should get out of there.
    The problem was, Annie lived fifteen blocks into that sealed-off