No Immunity

was holding her breath. That hadn’t happened in the gym, not till the end of warm-ups, not at all when she was really in shape. Inhale, lower. God, how long had it been?
    There was no sound but their panting breaths, the slither of fabric against truck bed. And the grumble of distant shouting.
    Don’t worry about the sheriff. She exhaled, and came up alongside Jesse. He was slowing down. But so was she. And he was way ahead of her in count.
    “Hey, man, you’re doing great. Ready for that second wind!”
    He breezed past her on the way down. But when she started up, he was even with her. As she inhaled down, he flopped to the bed, shaking the truck. She lost control, came smacking down, banging her head against the metal bed.
    “Exhale up!” she told herself. Head aching, she lifted. Beside her, Jesse was moving. She inhaled and lowered down. In the distance car doors slammed.
    “Come on, man, another inch. Just an inch, man! Great, you did it.”
    She tensed against his flop down. Her abdominals screamed. Jesse groaned.
    “Hey, man, you got ten to her six. Don’t give up. Give us eleven.”
    He groaned, but started up. She lifted. Sweat coated her face. Her heart smacked her ribs. She lowered. Seven.
    Jesse collapsed down with a groan. The truck shook.
    “Okay, man, ten’s your tally.”
    “I... can... rest.... No... rule... against... that.... I’ve... got... time.”
    “I don’t!” She lifted again. Her abdominals cramped. That had happened once in the gym when she had drunk a milk shake before practice. The coach had sent her home in disgrace. No point in staying, he’d said, you can’t do anything. She could taste the bourbon coming back up her throat.
    She pushed the memory away, swallowed hard, and lowered down. Eight.
    Car engines started below. How long would it take them to drive two blocks?
    Scrapping her rhythm, she lifted on the inhale. Her stomach screamed. She lowered. Nine. Lifted. Her head barely cleared the side panel of the truck. Lowered. Her head banged down, out of control. She needed to get her rhythm back.
    Wheels squealed in a fast turn.
    “Come on, Jess. One more.”
    Jesse groaned. “She’s not close, right?”
    She lifted, let herself flop down. Ten. Sweat poured off her. She lifted again. “Eleven,” she squeaked out.
    “Ten,” Connie said.
    It was eleven. It had to be. Why had Connie—? No time. She flopped down, scrunched her chin to her navel and lifted. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the side panel looming far above her head. Her legs were shaking, her heels were drumming against the truck bed. She gasped for breath, struggled to keep from crashing down. Her stomach ached. Any moment she’d be hanging over the side retching—if she could sit up that high.
    “Hey, she’s done,” one of the guys proclaimed. “It’s a draw.”
    “Like hell!” She let out a huge groan and shot up. Her nose barely passed the top of the side panel, and if holding the position there had been life or death, she’d have been shopping for a shroud, but none of that mattered. She let herself down as slowly as possible, still clanking her head against the truck bed.
    A car door clattered. The sheriff?
    Ignoring the pain, she rolled to the side and pushed up. Jesse was already signing the pink slip.
    “Anything I should know about the truck?” she asked.
    “Leaks oil.”
    “And?”
    “That’s it. She’s been a good ride.”
    She shot a glance at First Street. No action there now; the sheriff had moved out. To Jesse she said, “How do I get to the highway south?”
    He was still telling her as she climbed in, started the engine.
    Connie slid in front of Jesse but kept her head well outside the open window. “Be careful. Fox is a loose cannon. There’s no one here can tell him not to fire.”
    She grabbed Connie’s arm before she could move back. “You’ve helped me all the way tonight. Why? Why do you want me out of town?”
    Connie’s shoulders rose. She braced her free hand against the cab as if to push.
    “We’re talking possible epidemic here. If the dead woman’s contagious and nothing’s done, everyone in this town could be dead. So what’s your agenda with me?” Connie leaned in till her face was inches from Kiernan’s. “You know things about Jeff. I’m not chancing them getting back to the sheriff. Jeff’s in deep enough.”
    “Is he running the safe house?”
    “How safe...” Connie’s laugh cut the night silence. Kiernan