Omega Plague: Collapse Read Free Page A

cathedral. One of the priests, in red and white
vestments, carried what looked like a thick mirror on a long, silver handle.
Upon closer inspection, however, it was clear the object was not a mirror;
rather it was a round container, a sandwich of glass, and between the glass was
suspended a clear phial of what looked like black powder. After arriving at the
altar of the cathedral, the priest turned toward the crowd and thrust the
object into the air. The audience erupted into applause and the perspective on
the screen shifted, focusing on the phial within. The substance did not seem to
move, and a murmur went up from the crowd. The priest began to pray. Two
grey-haired men sat at the bar, laughing together, paying no mind to what was
going on over their heads.
    “It’s the festival of San Gennaro,” said Bruno.
    Cristian laughed. “Of course, your patron saint! You
Neapolitans love your pagan rituals, don’t you? The ancient blood becomes
liquid again!”
    Bruno looked up at the screen. “Doesn’t look like it turned
to liquid this year. And I’m from Nusco, not Naples.”
    “Well, if it didn’t turn to liquid, then bad luck for
Naples. Guess they’ll lose their next five games against Roma,” said Cristian.
“Forgot you were from Nusco. Isn’t that a little piss-hole of a town outside
the city? You bang sheep there, no?”
    Bruno had met Cristian his first day on duty on the island
last year, after his assignment from their regional headquarters in Naples.
Cristian was the type who had no problem telling you what he had for lunch and
what it looked like coming out the other end. A few minutes after they’d first
met, Bruno discovered far more than he wanted to about Cristian’s divorce (it
was her fault), his seven-year-old daughter (now living with Cristian’s
parents), and how many foreign tourists he’d bedded since being stationed on
the island (a lot). Nevertheless, Cristian had a malicious charm. He’d only
slightly toned down his self-aggrandizing profanity since he’d started dating
Bruno’s older sister, Carla, a few weeks ago. But that didn’t deceive Bruno; he
knew Cristian was still full of shit.
    “Come on, Bruno. If you watch too much of this stuff, you’ll
go, from this,” Cristian held his finger up, “to this.” Cristian dropped his
finger down, limp and lifeless.
    Bruno smiled and gestured with head. “All right, let’s go,”
he said.
    Though he was happy to joke with Cristian, Bruno in fact
took no solace from the feast days of the Church’s beloved saints. The death of
his mother and little brother seven years ago had left him cold. In fact, in
the months following their deaths, he had ceased to believe in God at all. He
had even toyed with joining a group that had paid for slogans on the side of
city buses in Milan that read: “Bad News is, God doesn’t Exist—Good News is,
You Don’t Need Him.” It had caused quite a stir. But while he may have agreed
with the sentiment, Bruno realized that associating with those mildly
subversive types would invite heightened scrutiny from his superiors. Not to
mention what he knew his mother would have thought. So, mostly, he kept his
opinions on religion to himself. Following their mother’s and brother’s death,
Carla had returned to Naples from her teaching position at San Raffaele
Hospital in Milan, and had just a few months ago taken a position at the
hospital on Capri. Carla and Bruno were already planning a surprise visit to
their father at Christmas. Bruno turned and walked back into the square, and
Cristian followed.
    The late-afternoon sun shone brightly, and they squinted
their eyes on emerging from the bar into Capri’s main square. They had spent
the better part of the morning reviewing intelligence on a gang in Naples
running drugs and arms to Serbia, so they were happy to be outside now enjoying
the sun. Their boss told them that after they signed off on the reports, they
could patrol until the end of their shift.