Invasion

"Of course I recognized you," Jonathan blurted. Consciously he had to resist letting his eyes wander below Cassy's neck. "Come in."

"Are your parents home?" Cassy asked.

"My mom is."

Cassy studied the boy's face. With his flaxen hair hanging down over his forehead and his self-consciously flitting eyes, he looked himself. His manner of dress was reassuring as well. He had on an oversized sweatshirt and a loose-fitting pair of Jams that were just barely hanging on to his buttocks.

"How's Candee?" Cassy asked.

"I haven't seen her since yesterday."

"What about her parents?" Cassy questioned.

Jonathan let out a little sardonic laugh. "They're gonzo. My mom had a talk with Candee's mom, and it was like zero."

"What about your mom?" Cassy asked. She tried to study Jonathan's eyes, but it was like trying to examine a Ping-Pong ball during a game.

"My mom is fine. Why?"

"A lot of people are acting strange lately. You know, like Candee's parents and Mr. Partridge."

"Yeah, I know," Jonathan said. "But not my mom."

"Your dad?"

"He's fine too."

"Good," Cassy said. "Now I'd like to take you up on your invitation to come in. I'm here to talk with your mom."

Jonathan closed the door behind Cassy and then bellowed at the top of his lungs that there was company. The sound echoed around the inside of the house, and Cassy jumped. Despite trying to act calm, she was as taut as a banjo wire.

"Can I get you some water or something?" Jonathan asked.

Before Cassy could respond Nancy Sellers appeared at the balustrade on the second floor. She was dressed casually in acid-washed jeans and loose-fitting blouse.

"Who is it, Jonathan?" Nancy asked. She could see Cassy, but because of the way the sun was coming through the window into the stairwell, Cassy's face was lost in shadow.

Jonathan yelled up who it was and motioned for Cassy to follow him into the kitchen. No sooner had Cassy sat at a banquette than Nancy appeared.

"This is a surprise," Nancy said. "Can I offer you some coffee?"

"Sure," Cassy said. Cassy eyed the woman as she motioned for Jonathan to get a cup while she went to the stove to pick up the coffeepot. As far as Cassy could tell Nancy looked and acted the same as she did when Cassy had first met her.

Cassy was beginning to relax a degree when Nancy reached out to pour the coffee. On her index finger was a fresh Band-Aid, and Cassy felt her own pulse quicken. A wound of any sort on the hands was not what she wanted to see.

"To what do we owe this visit?" Nancy asked as she poured herself a half cup of the coffee.

Cassy stumbled over her words. "What happened to your finger?"

Nancy glanced at her Band-Aid as if it had just appeared. "Just a small cut," she said.

"From some kitchen implement?" Cassy asked.

Nancy studied Cassy's face. "Does it matter?" she asked.

"Well ... " Cassy stammered. "Yes, it does. It matters a lot."

"Mom, Miss Winthrope is concerned about the people who are changing," Jonathan said, coming to Cassy's aid once again. "You know, like Candee's mom. I've already told her you talked with her and thought that she was out in left field."

"Jonathan!" Nancy snapped. "Your father and I agreed we wouldn't discuss the Taylors outside the home. At least until ... "

"I don't think it can wait," Cassy interrupted. Nancy's little outburst had encouraged her to trust that Nancy had not been infected. "People are rapidly changing all over the city, not just the Taylors. It might even be happening in other cities. We don't know. It's happening with an illness that resembles the flu, and as far as we can tell it is spread by little black discs that have the capability of stinging people on their hands."

Nancy stared at Cassy. "Are you taking about a black disc with kind of a hump in the middle, about four centimeters in diameter?"

"Exactly," Cassy said. "Have you seen any? Lots of people have them."

"Candee's mother tried to give me one," Nancy said. "Is that why you questioned my Band-Aid?"

Cassy nodded.

"It was a knife," Nancy said. "A recalcitrant bagel and a knife."

"I'm sorry to be so suspicious," Cassy said.

"I suppose it is understandable," Nancy said. "But why did you come here?"

"To enlist your help," Cassy said. "We have a group, a small group, who have been trying to figure out what's happening. But we need help. We have some fluid from one of the discs, and with you being a virologist, you'd know what to do with it. We're afraid to use the hospital lab because we think too many people in the hospital have been infected."

"You suspect a virus?" Nancy questioned.

Cassy shrugged. "I'm not a doctor, but the illness seems like the flu. We also don't know anything about the black discs. That's where we thought your husband might help. We don't know how the things work or even what they are made of."

"I'll have to discuss this with my husband," Nancy said. "How can I get in touch with you?"

Cassy gave the telephone number of Pitt's cousin's apartment where she'd stayed the previous night. She also gave her Dr. Sheila Miller's direct dial number.