~Quentin Smith - April 17th, 2014 – Stonewall Louisiana
"Will Quentin Smith please come to the office for checkout" The intercom informed my Theatre teacher. I hesitated a moment wondering why I was being taken out of school today. While I had no objections to skipping school, it seemed strange. Gathering my things, I walked out of class and into the empty hall. I love these rare moments of time when I can stride through the halls, reminiscing about whatever comes to mind. The past is a frequent topic.
They say nostalgia is a powerful thing, and perhaps I take it to a level of obsessiveness no teenager should. Being a military child, with a father in the Air-Force, is understandably tough. Can't complain though, I've lived in Germany for almost 4 years, and Paris, Rome, London, and almost every European country under my travel belt. High school in Louisiana is no different than the others, despite being my first civilian public school. The students still show a level of ignorance and stubbornness to rival most Neanderthals, however, this doesn't mean I am any better. My grades have never been something I brag about. But I believe intelligence and character don't come from letter Grades on a page alone.
Rounding a corner and descending the stairs into the main foyer, I see my father through the glass window of the office frantically pacing. Upon entering, He looks at me, giving me a smile that seems almost forced. The look on his face makes me want to ask, "who's died?" But decided smart ass comments are not too appropriate right now. "Hey bud!" He exclaims, placing a hand on my shoulder, and waving bye to the nice ladies in the main office. Once outside, I see Jezebel (Our red jeep, apocalypse certified I might add) parked rather crooked on the curb, as if he was in a hurry. "What's going on?" I finally ask. He hesitates for a moment, clearly contemplating weather or not he should tell me what’s on his mind. Perhaps I’m ill, or He’s ill, Or something happened to Mother! He tells me all the time that in a bad situation, I would be his right hand man, his backup, the co-man of the house. But now he seems rather serious. Well, more serious than usual. "Hellooooo, Father? Why have you picked me up today?"
“Look, I heard some things at work today, I just want to make sure you’re safe, this could all be nothing.”
“What could be nothing?”
At this point I’m growing rather uneasy. This level of secrecy in his voice is never good, something really bad must be going on. As we drive past the local dollar store, I can see what appears to be two middle aged women, maybe in there late 40’s arguing, fighting it seems, over a box of what I can only guess is some kind of medicine, pain-killers perhaps. Odd.
As we pull into the driveway of our house, I can see the sun blazing high in the sky, not a cloud in sight, the heat visibly radiating off the pavement, which is weather I happen to loathe. Mother comes out of the garage door to greet us, something she so rarely does.
“Trey! Come look at this”
She pulls him into the living room where Fox News is on. Reporting the same thing as every other news station. And every one of them is telling in-accurate, badly reported pieces of the same story.
A biological plague is being reported all over the nation, and in some remote parts of the world. Many news sources are linking this “sickness” to a research facility in Germany. ‘What are the odds’ I think as my heart sinks. Of all the places for a disease to start, it HAS to be where a few of my closest friends are. However, only one comes to mind, Jordan! She was one of the few friends that were still in Germany that I actually was concerned for.
This whole thing will blow by quick right? Be just another un-necessary panic? How naïve I am.
Father kept us in the house the rest of the evening, not letting any of us leave, or anyone else in. KC and Lea are rather good friends I made recently here. Despite this, father refused to let them in when they came over that night. He simply told them to go home and stay there. This made it very hard for us to let Murphy and Lilly outside. (Our two Yellow Labradors)
