Tracking Blood: Episode 2

An apocalyptic serial

Table of Contents

Note: The main story is free to read for everyone, however paid subscribers will have access to many longer episodes that include extra scenes, characters, and sub-plots. Consider subscribing to enjoy the expanded story, as well as to support the author.

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Washington D.C.

Lincoln Heights

Tanya woke with a start.

Moonlight from the window lit the bedroom in strange blues and grays that reminded her of her parents’ house, that sense of cold detachment she woke up to every morning as a little girl. She had sworn to never let that feeling bleed into her own home when she grew up, and she was happy to note it never had. On that thought, she rolled over to face her husband and give him a kiss.

The bed next to her was empty. Her stomach tightened at the unexpected sight. The bathroom door across the room was open, and the light inside was off.

“Will?”

There was no answer. Her husband sometimes kept odd hours for his job, but it was rare for him to be out at this time. Even if he had left the house for work already, he wouldn’t have done it without waking her up to tell her. She reached out to run her hand over the sheets and was relieved to find they were still warm to the touch. He was probably just in the kitchen, getting a drink of water.

She got out of bed and drowsily made her way to the bathroom. She peed, still half-asleep, and washed her hands at the sink, splashing some cold water on her face. In the mirror she caught sight of a gray hair peeking out of her short, dirty blonde hair. She plucked it out and held it up to the light. “I shall name you Ryan,” she told it.

Tanya slipped on her favorite robe and stepped into the hallway, looking up at the top of the stairs. Ryan’s door was still shut. If she knew her son, he’d only fallen asleep two or three hours earlier after staying up all night watching movies. He wouldn’t be up for at least another two hours on a school day. On a Sunday, she wouldn’t see his face earlier than eleven, even if she was vacuuming. Even if she banged pots over his head, he wouldn’t wake up. The kid slept like the dead.

She padded into the kitchen, feeling the cool tiles on her naked feet as she crossed to the coffee machine. Will had already made coffee.

A rustling to her left caught her attention. Will sat at the dining room table with his back to her. He was going through a pile of bills that had mounted up on the table, so absorbed in what he was doing he hadn’t noticed her. Even without seeing his face, she knew that look. Shoulders tensed, rubbing the side of his head.

They were having money trouble.

“You know they have computer programs for that stuff,” she said, coming around to his side. He didn’t startle. He never did. The papers were jumbled and spread out across the table, one of them stamped with a big, red SECOND NOTICE.

“We have an understanding,” he said. “I don’t tell you how to run your campaigns, you don’t tell me how to pay the bills.”

“Oh, are we paying them now? That’s an interesting twist.” She kissed him on the cheek.

“I thought I would give it a try.”

She sat in the chair next to him. “Don’t stress about it. We always find a way.”

He rubbed the side of his head again. “They’re talking about changing the bail laws again.”

“It’s D.C., people talk about changing laws like they talk about the weather.”

“Yeah, but they would love it if one day they could do away with us altogether. They have no idea how much money we save the taxpayers.”

“Who are you telling, me or you?” He didn’t answer. She could see how worried he was about the pile of papers in front of him. “Did you reapply for the civil service test? Someone at the office said the police are lifting their hiring freeze.”

“Nobody wants a guy who couldn’t cut it in the army.”

She frowned. “That’s crap and you know it.”

“It’s-” He stopped mid-sentence. “I don’t want to talk about it right now, if that’s alright.”

She stood from the chair and put her hands on her hips. “Okay, then let’s talk about something a little more serious.” He looked up at her earnestly, those deep eyes she’d fallen in love with a hundred times over. She pointed to the kitchen. “We have these eggs in our fridge that absolutely refuse to cook themselves.”

For the first time that morning, he smiled. “I prefer what’s cooking under that robe.”

“Ahh. Well, the good news is, I figured out the best thing about our shower.”

“What’s that?”

“It fits two.”

She smiled and slipped the robe down off her shoulder as she headed to the bedroom. Will followed close behind her.

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Will glanced up at the store’s sign as he pushed open the glass door. The logo had a crested lion at the center, and beneath it Donegan’s motto: “Your Shining Knight!”

He still chuckled at that one. People in the business had a habit of trying to sound like royalty; everyone was the king of bail bonds, the queen of underwriting. Donegan especially had no place making that claim. He was more like a dirty Irish Viking, looting his way across the land.

Will had to step aside to let a middle-aged woman storm out of the shop, cursing as she went. A scrawny guy with long hair ran after her looking like a wet mop come to life.

“Another bloody happy customer,” Donegan proclaimed from behind the wallpapered counter. The store hadn’t been remodeled since the seventies, and it showed. Dark brown wood paneling covered the walls, while orange carpet covered the floor. An old tube TV with dials sat on a table in the corner, tuned to the news. Donegan was checking bonds at the computer, as always.

Will passed the waiting room couch and noticed a young boy was sitting on it reading a decades-old TV Guide. “What’s with the kid?”

“Don’t worry about the kid,” Donegan said without looking up. The image on the computer monitor flickered. “Come on you piece of shite,” he said, slapping its side.

“With all the money you’re making, you could fix the place up a little.”

“If it looks too nice, people won’t be walking in the door as much.”

“Sure.”

Donegan looked up from the monitor. “I’m serious. If I come at them with fountains and marble countertops, you think these chancers will come anywhere near me? The first rule of catching rats is, don’t spook the rats.” He closed the window he was working in. “Speaking of which, has our boy poked his whiskers out yet?”

“Still dark.”

“Bah. He’s skipped town by now.” He wheeled his chair over to a filing cabinet and started picking through the folders.

“I don’t think so. His motorcycle hasn’t left his apartment. The strip club is still my best shot. I’ll have to keep watching it.”

Donegan’s eyes lit up. “Oh, a strip club, how convenient for you! Take in a show, throw down a bit of the black stuff.”

“You know I don’t go to those places.”

Donegan wheeled back to the counter with a dog-eared folder. “You’re full of shite. I’ve seen the birds they have there, ain’t no man alive doesn’t like lookin’ at them fine things.”

Will shook his head. “Listen, Donegan … I need another job.”

“You know the deal. When you’re finished with this one, I’ll give you another one.” He held up the folder to illustrate his point.

“What I mean is, I need a good paycheck. None of this nickel-and-dime stuff. Whatever you have lined up, I need the biggest one you have.”

“Now what makes you think I would hold out on you? You know very well you’re my favorite.”

“Second favorite,” Will corrected him.

“I like you much better than that wanker cousin of mine. But he’s family, you know how it is.”

“Unfortunately. All I’m saying is I’m struggling right now, I could use something extra.”

“Alright, Sharpe, I’ll keep you in mind. Don’t you worry.” The TV in the waiting room caught his attention. “You hear about this Red Flu business?”

“I don’t really watch the news.”

“You should. This shite could end up on your doorstep. All it takes is one wanker on vacation not washing his hands and boom! It all goes arseways.”

“There’s always an outbreak of something. It’s becoming impossible for a parent to give their kid a decent education.”

“HVAC,” Donegan said simply.

“… What?”

“Air conditioning repair, that’s where the money is. You tell Ryan to learn himself a trade and he’ll be just grand.”

Will blinked. “I’ll be sure to tell him.”

“Good. Now pull your socks up and scram.”

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