Marcus showed up twenty minutes later. I heard his car pull into the driveway, then his footsteps coming up to the door.
I let him in without saying anything. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.
"How high is it now?" he asked, moving straight to the TV.
"Ninety-one last I checked."
Andrea was still on the couch, hugging her knees to her chest and watching the news coverage with this blank expression on her face.
Marcus stood in front of the screen. The anchor was interviewing the police chief again who looked completely overwhelmed.
"We've apprehended forty-three suspects so far," the chief was saying. "But we're still receiving reports of active situations across multiple districts, our resources are stretched extremely thin."
The death count updated.
Ninety-four confirmed fat
