No Safety in Numbers Read Online Free PDF Page B

pharmacy.
    Shay shuffled past the few people splayed on the floor between the rows of toothpaste and deodorant to the back, where the pharmacist was asleep on the counter.
    “Excuse me,” Shay said, tapping the woman’s arm.
    The woman woke with a snort. “What, kid?” She stretched and scratched her hair.
    “My grandmother needs insulin.” Shay laid a twenty onto the counter. “Will this cover it?”
    The woman smirked. “You got a prescription?”
    “Please,” Shay said. “Can you just give me a little? We’ve been stuck here forever and my grandmother didn’t bring any.”
    The woman sighed. “Look, truth is you’re not the first to come here looking for drugs. But we don’t stock that much. We ran out of insulin earlier this evening.”
    Shay was stunned. “Can’t you call someone?”
    The woman’s face loosened into a kind expression. “Honey, if I could call someone, I would be on the phone.”
    Shay dragged her feet out of the store. They ran out of insulin? What were people supposed to do? She needed to talk to the person in charge. And where would this person be?
The parking garage.
    Someone had turned the escalators and elevators off at this point, so Shay skipped quickly down the stalled stepsto the first floor and then ran toward the central courtyard and fountain. It was eerie being the only person in the hallway, seeing the other people trapped behind the glass storefronts like fish in a tank. Some looked up at her as she passed; most did not.
    Shay reached the escalators to the garage and steeled herself for a confrontation. She took the steps two at a time, psyching herself up to battle her way to the head honcho. But there was no one to confront. The garage was empty. Shay pushed her way out of the glass-enclosed escalator lobby. She heard voices off to her left.
    Two police cruisers were parked in front of a cinderblock room near the Dumpsters, their lights beating red and blue pulses across the dark walls. A kid who looked about her age sat in the backseat of one of the cruisers, his head against the glass. A tired-looking woman sat on the back bumper of the car. A tubby guy in a beige suit stood in front of her waving a piece of paper.
    “I’ve got tenant complaints piling up,” he snapped.
    “Yours is the least of my problems,” the woman said.
    Shay had expected a mob of police, tons of lights, cages filled with criminals. This looked like a vandalism case at best.
    The woman held up a hand and the tubby man controlled his hysteria. The woman began speaking to no one—then Shay noticed the cell phone earpiece. “How was I supposed to know that regulations required evacuation, not quarantine? With the anthrax scare, the danger was not treating people in time, so I figured you’d want to keep everyone together.”
    Did she just say
quarantine?
    “Tell them I knew we should evacuate,” the tubby man said. “Make sure they know—”
    The woman glared at the guy, who shut up, and continued. “They won’t let me evacuate everyone now? Well, it’s not like I wanted to increase exposure rates. My goddamned family is trapped here! Fine, tell the Feds that I’m sorry for screwing with their procedure.” She dug the ear piece from her ear and slammed it down on the trunk.
    This was obviously more than a vandalism case.
    “Excuse me?” said Shay, her voice echoing throughout the garage.
    The woman looked up. “Oh, god,” she said.
    The tubby guy stepped forward. “Miss, please return to your store.”
    “Did you just say we’re being quarantined?” Shay stood straighter, preparing herself for that confrontation she’d been waiting for.
    A policeman appeared behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. Shay wrenched her head around. It was the same guy who’d been in the exit doorway.
    “This one’s been a problem all day, Senator.” The cop pushed Shay toward the squad car. “Tried to bust out the exit.”
    The woman—the senator—looked at her watch, then