CHAPTER ONE
A FEW YEARS LATER
AUGUST 15th
NEW YORK CITY
NATIONAL INFORMATION PLATFORM (NIP) TV
BREAKING NEWS: “Key politicians in Washington D.C. have been placed in intensive care,” the anchor announced.
“The CDC confirmed today that a number of our national leaders and their principal donors have caught a lethal disease. Anyone exposed has been quarantined. The cause of the outbreak is being investigated, but early reports indicate the bacteria came from a carcass recently exposed in the Siberian thawing permafrost. The CDC is continuing to study the centuries old remains in hopes of finding a cure or vaccine for this exploding outbreak.”
CHAPTER ONE
TWO WEEKS EARLIER
JULY 31st
ANCHOR DESK
NATIONAL INFORMATION PLATFORM (NIP) TV
MANHATTAN
NEW YORK CITY
CAMELLIA KNIGHT WAS MAD ENOUGH TO SPIT NAILS. She shivered in a low-necked, sheer silk blouse and short skirt. One of her four-inch heels lay on the floor under the anchor desk. Her bare foot was cold too. She managed to keep her teeth from chattering as she delivered her signature wrap up with a barely noticeable Southern accent. “Good night friends. Back tomorrow. Count on it.”
She removed her microphone, collected her cell phone, then bent behind the glossy mahogany desk to pick up her shoe and stood up with a curt toss of her long, vibrant blond hair. The wall behind her featured a scene showing lower Manhattan, with One World Trade Center prominently placed. Shoe in one hand and phone in the other, she stomped across the room to an area where a multitude of staffers was hard at work setting the stage for the next segment of NIP’s nightly news. Stacey Grover, her assistant, hurried over and handed her a jacket. Camellia slapped it around her shoulders. Stacey’s dark hair was cut so short it stood straight up from the top of her head, resembling an upturned toothbrush. With no makeup, the only adornment to feminize Stacey’s appearance was a pea sized pair of gold earrings.
“It’s as cold in here as a frosted frog!” Camellia snapped, aiming her remarks at the surrounding production crew. “You men with your lined jackets! Who turned up the blasted a/c?” Her ire was really meant for the News Director who insisted that she wear revealing clothing since he was certain it accounted for her huge number of male fans. And that wasn’t something she could complain about if she wanted to keep her job.
Frank Cho, another NIP associate, retrieved her laptop from her desk and brought it to her. “Here you go,” he said. He was barely five feet seven and as reedy as a willow tree. He set up a folding chair carefully.
Camellia sat down and took off her other shoe. “Thanks, Frank, you’re the best.”
Meanwhile, Stacey took orange sneakers out of a duffle bag and handed them to her.
They were joined by a tall, lanky cameraman with dreadlocks reaching just above his collar. He had bulky equipment slung over broad shoulders and a newspaper under one arm. “Camellia, get a load of this,” he urged, pointing to a headline. “Senator Trotford is going to Siberia with a bunch of scientists.”
Still tying her sneaker laces, Camellia responded without looking up. “Why would he want to do that, Owen?”
“Who knows, maybe he’s interested in the thawing permafrost.”
“Give me a break. That guy thinks the Earth is flat and that the ice isn’t melting.”
“He says he wants to see it with his own eyes.”
“Suddenly thinks climate change is a problem? No way.” Camellia stood up. “Could conceivably make a good story though. What do you think?”
“Considering the Senator’s reputation as a philanderer, the story might be how he puts the move on you while we’re there.”
Camellia ignored the comment, turning to Stacey. “We’re going to go with him. Set up an appointment with the scientists for tomorrow. They probably won’t want us, but insist.” Patience is a virtue I need to work on, she thought. I really do. Just not at the moment.
“Sure thing.” Stacey made a note. “I’ll get hold of them first thing in the morning.”
“Thanks.” Sneakers tied, Camellia got up, headed to the door then turned back to Owen. “If he makes a pass at me, get it on camera, will you? At least that would be newsworthy.” Pulling the jacket closer around her, she headed out of the studio.
When she stepped outside, she had to take her jacket off. It had been 95 degrees Fahrenheit at noon for the fourth day in a row, and it was still 89 degrees at 8:00 p.m. If only I could peel my blouse off too, she thought.