Chapter 10

CYNTHIA CORVILLE

In all of Cynthia's childhood daydreams of how her time as Waverwell President would go, navigating an outbreak of a previously-unknown disease was not how she imagined things would have gone.

The first morning after she woke up to the stay-at-home orders in place, everything had been nearly silent, and there were no honking horns to be heard that signaled the start of the morning rush just as the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon.

Cynthia had rolled over in bed and traced a finger across Charlotte's cheek, enjoying the fleeting moments she had where she could pretend they were just two lovers curled up together in bed. She wished she could spend more time with her wife and enjoy a slow, lazy morning in, but she knew work was waiting for her and was piling up.

The President didn't get days off, and the President certainly didn't sleepy mornings spent cuddling and murmuring sweet nothings to a spouse, no matter how tantalizing the idea might have been.

"Nooo," Charlotte grumbled as Cynthia began to crawl out of bed. She drowsily grabbed at Cynthia's nightshirt to try to pull her back under the covers. "Come back."

"I'm sorry, Char," Cynthia murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her wife's forehead. "I need to get started on my day. You should get up soon, too."

"Too early," Charlotte groaned into her pillow. "What time is it?"

"It's almost five forty-five."

"Fine." Cynthia smiled as Charlotte sat up, rubbing at her eyes with a yawn. Her hair stuck up in every direction.

"I'll be in the bathroom."

"Will you be taking a shower?"

"A quick one," Cynthia replied.

"Mind if I join you?"

Cynthia laughed at Charlotte's exaggerated fluttering eyelashes and puppy dog eyes. "It really does need to be quick."

"I won't distract you."

"How did that go last time?" Cynthia teased as she opened the bathroom door to turn on the water so it could heat up.

"I'll behave." Charlotte leaned up against the doorway.

"If you insist." Cynthia leaned in for a kiss that Charlotte returned, leaning in close.

"I do," Charlotte stated. "I'd like to wash your back since you're always complaining about how you're not that flexible."

"Well, it's not my fault my shoulders don't bend that way." Cynthia gave Charlotte a half-hearted frown.

She missed their usual back-and-forth teasing, the easy nature of their conversations where she could forget for just a few minutes about her job and everything she had to do— for these brief moments, she was just another person in Waverwell spending time with their spouse. She wasn't President Cynthia Corville, the first female President of Waverwell; she was Cynthia, wife of Charlotte, and she was spending time with her lover, enjoying their morning together as they got ready for the day.

"I know," Charlotte replied, "and since you refuse to use those scrubby brushes with handles that I bought you, this is my proposed solution."

"And this is why I said no to using them."

"Sneaky, sneaky, Sin." Charlotte shook her head as she laughed. The sound was the most beautiful melody Cynthia had heard, and she happily smiled and laughed along with her wife.

xxxx

It was Harold who, despite making nearly every attempt to ignore or deny the disease's existence and problems created in their entirety, first alerted Cynthia to a change in it.

He pulled her into his office, a space that simultaneously felt too big and too small. The walls had been painted a drab brown, and a series of paintings were hung up, colors all muted to the point Cynthia had a hard time telling what colors were even there. Two sconces cast sharp shafts of light across the wall, and a mirror had been placed exactly opposite Harold's desk chair, which offered a view of Harold's monitor and laptop, as well as a clear reflection of whoever sat in his seat.

Cynthia eyed the massive bottle of hand sanitizer on the edge of Harold's desk and the air purifier puttering away in the corner of the room.

Waverwell government officials were still allowed into their physical offices and to meet, provided they followed those rules— hand sanitizer, washing hands frequently, and keeping the air circulating.

"Have you been keeping up with the lockdown?"

"Yes, I have been, Harold," Cynthia said, ignoring the sharp bite in his tone. "I was just about to go get an update from Seven Valentine, which I will do after I am done speaking with you."

"Well, that's what I was going to talk to you about. You won't need to speak to the intern— I've got it covered."

Cynthia nodded, letting him continue. She still would speak with Seven, but she didn't tell Harold that.

"The Underdown Medical Center has just reported the first confirmed death from the disease."

Cynthia paused, giving herself a moment to let the information sink in.

The disease was now beyond an infection— it had begun to kill.

If there was one confirmed death, how many more were there still unconfirmed? How many more would die before a treatment was known?

"I see." Cynthia was grateful for every moment of her practice in steeling her expression and morphing it into something carefully neutral, like she was talking about the weather, not something catastrophic to the family who had just lost a loved one, as well as the probable others.

If there was one death, Cynthia was almost certain there were others.

"Well," Cynthia continued, "I'm glad we've implemented the lockdown when we did. I hope it will be enough to slow the disease's spread until researchers have a more tailored solution."

Harold narrowed his eyes into a squinty look.

"Are you sure the lockdown is still necessary?" His tone of voice gave away little, and his expression was unreadable.

Cynthia stared Harold directly in the eyes, turning her body to face him fully. "Yes," she said firmly. "Yes, I am sure. A lockdown is what the doctors have stated is the best course of action right now while researchers examine the disease and find a proper treatment for it."

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

"It's literally just sitting on your couch and scrolling through Muse."

"It's more than that, Harold. I know it, and you know it, too. The lockdown was important before, and now that there has been a confirmed death, it is even more so."

"The choice belongs to the people to make the right decisions for themselves."

"I agree," Cynthia said, and it was true. "But the people need to be informed so they can make an informed decision. And sometimes tough decisions need to be made when there is a threat to society as a whole. No one wants to be at home and away from their friends and family, but if it keeps both them safe as well as those around them, it's what needs to be done, especially when we currently know so little. So please, Harold, stop taking every chance you have to push back against the lockdown."

"So you want me to just shut up and go along with whatever is said, no questions asked?"

Cynthia resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "We both know that's not what I meant," she replied. "I will always make sure I am considering all perspectives when casting my vote or invoking my Presidential power, and I ask that you do the same. This lockdown does not just affect one person, it affects everyone, because the disease will not just go after only one person."

Harold was quiet, staring at the wall just over Cynthia's shoulder. "Fine," he eventually said.

xxxx

Cynthia had barely sat down for the meeting with all of the highest Waverwell government officials when Delta spoke up, and Linda had hardly had time to write down the name of everyone in attendance.

"Gabby? Gabby- Gabriella, sorry."

"Yes?"

"Come on a date with me. I found this new restaurant out by the Wishing River."

"No," Gabriella replied firmly.

"Come on! I'll pay, and it will be so much fun. It's such a romantic atmosphere, and it will be lovely. I'll pick you up late afternoon, we'll go on a drive out there, we'll eat dinner, and then we'll see where the night takes us."

"No," Gabriella repeated.

Something flashed across Delta's gaze, but it was hidden by an easy grin.

"Why not? I'm the one paying!"

"I do not wish to go on a date with you."

Delta rested his cheek on his hand and reached out his arm. "You're the only one my heart desires," he said as he trailed his fingers across Gabriella's.

"Do that again and I will break your wrist," she snapped, removing her fingers from his touch.

"Why are you playing so hard to get? I don't understand. My heart is yours."

Cynthia could tell Gabriella was having a hard time keeping a firm and neutral expression. She saw the quiver in Gabriella's throat as she swallowed, the way she had trouble holding Delta's gaze, how she bunched her dress up in her fists beneath the table until the fabric creased in sharp folds.

Did she have enough? Cynthia knew she would likely only get one chance to push for Delta's removal from Waverwell government. She had to get it right the first time.

Things were going to reach a breaking point with Delta, and Cynthia could only hope that she would be able to formally file her case against him before then. She could keep making threats, keep pushing him, but the more she pushed, the greater the risk he might lash out.

Ashley Baok's murder and the disease outbreak were taking up much of her day, but she would need to find time to look into Delta Bass and figure out a way to remove him from Waverwell government. Find more time to dig up everything she could on him to make her case as to why he was unfit for a role in Waverwell government.

It was obvious Delta wanted Gabriella, and it was blatantly clear to everyone but him that Gabriella did not feel the same way. Yet he kept trying to pursue her.

Or maybe he was well aware she didn't want him, Cynthia thought as the idea dawned on her.

And he just didn't care.

Her stomach twisted as nausea rose up through her throat.

"I do not desire you in any form, Delta Bass," Gabriella said, enunciating each syllable and staring Delta right in the eye.

"Go on one date with me, and that will change."

"No."

"Go on one date with me, and I will drop it."

"No, you won't."

"Sure, I will."

Gabriella shook her head. "No, you won't, Delta, because you do not know how to take no for an answer. You have never listened, and you never will. Now, since I have made it very clear that I do not desire you in any way, shape, or form, we are done with this conversation."

"But-."

"No means no. Full stop. No ifs, ands, or buts. Full stop, Delta. Full stop. No means no. End of discussion."

Gabriella stared down Delta, and Cynthia saw her biting down on the inside of her lip and curling her hands tighter around her dress. Her knuckles paled underneath the table, and she planted her feet more firmly against the ground.

For the first time in Cynthia's memory, Gabriella broke eye contact and looked away first.

A smirk pulled at the corner of Delta's mouth. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed loosely over his chest, and he chuckled a small laugh.

xxxx

A tense silence clung to the room, thick enough that it could be cut with a knife. Tangible enough that one could reach out a hand and touch it.

"Researchers have been trying to trace the confirmed cases of this disease and where it originated," Cynthia said, breaking the silence and changing the subject.

"Uh, huh," Delta murmured, wrinkling his nose at his pad of paper. He scratched something out on it.

"Have they found the originating source yet?" Gabriella asked.

"That's what I was getting to. They believe so, but they're still working on the exact originating source."

"What's their closest location so far?"

"Cloverleaf."

The word hung in the air like a heavy cloud of smoke: Cloverleaf, the mining town in Waverwell, where virtually all of the country's minerals came from.

But also where Leviathan Inc. got its Arkreon energy source.

The whistleblower's claims clung like a shadow, there but just out of sight. Something no one was mentioning but everyone was thinking.

And how could they not? The researchers were the best of the best— if they said it was true, they had looked at every possibility, had read through all of the latest papers on the subject, conferred with others in their field. The claims made by the whistleblower said Arkreon was responsible for the disease, and it was mined in Spider Ridge, just a short walk from the outskirts of Cloverleaf. It couldn't be overlooked.

Without any concrete evidence, Cynthia wouldn't come to any definite conclusions, but she knew that it didn't rule out any tie to Arkreon.

"Who's the lead researcher?" Gabriella asked. "I'm assuming you've offered our assistance in whatever way is needed?"

Cynthia nodded. "Yes, I have made it clear they have our full assistance. The lead researcher at the Corville Medical Center is Danzig Sterling. I'm not sure if you've heard of them since they are relatively new to the position."

"Oh, I have," Linda said pausing from writing her notes to set down her pen and look up at the rest of the group. "They're a very smart person. Young but extremely well-qualified. If anyone can lead a team of researchers in investigating a new disease, it's Danzig. I got to meet them a few months ago when they first took on the role."

"Danzig sent me a rundown of the symptoms."

Gabriella raised her eyebrows. "Really? What are they?"

Cynthia riffled through the stack of documents she had brought with her and pulled out the email from Danzig and handed out copies to everyone. "It's quite the list."

Harold leaned back in his chair, and Linda hunched over her copy, circling and underlining with a red pen. Her face fell as she read more and more. Gabriella grimaced, while Delta wrinkled his nose, running a hand through his hair.

"Eesh," he muttered.

"Yes," Cynthia agreed. "It's very bad."

Dear Mrs. President Cynthia Corville,

I wish I could be emailing you under better circumstances, but I wanted to keep you updated on everything we are finding. I know I am new to the position of lead researcher at the Corville Medical Center, and while this is my first big task as lead researcher and it is not something anyone would want to deal with, I am committed to doing everything in my power to keep the citizens of Waverwell as safe and healthy as I can.

Everything in this email is accurate as of right now— the situation is rapidly changing as more is discovered and figured out in regard to this disease.

In more minor cases, the symptoms can include:

— Fever

— Fatigue

— Confusion

— Dizziness

— Shortness of breath

— Cough

— Headache

— Rash - red, blotchy patches of skin

In more serious cases, the symptoms can include:

— Trouble breathing - may require medical intervention

— Rash - yellow, dry patches of skin, possibly peeling several layers deep

— Cough - possibly including blood

— Low blood pressure

— Low heart rate

— Loss of consciousness

— Seizures

— Death

This is not an exhaustive list of symptoms, and the list may change as new discoveries are made. I will keep you updated as to any changes regarding the disease and our research, related to the symptoms or not.

Please do not hesitate to reach out to me with any questions.

I will be in touch with new information as soon as possible.

Thank you,

Danzig Sterling

They, them, theirs

Lead researcher, Corville Medical Center

"Well," Delta started, skin a bit pale as he looked anywhere but his copy of Danzig's email. He rubbed his hands together, shifting in his seat. "That is a list."

"Indeed it is," Linda confirmed, looking back over her copy.

"This," Gabriella stated, jabbing a finger onto the list, "is why we need that lockdown. In a show of hands, how many of you would like to experience these symptoms?"

No one raised their hand.

"That's what I thought."

Cynthia looked over the list, internally shuddering at the length and how horrific each one sounded. Death stood out at the bottom, and she couldn't help but wonder how many more fatalities there might be beyond the one already confirmed.

"I hope the lockdown will be enough for now," she murmured.