Pandemic (13 page)

“Portico Police Department. Officer Julio speaking.”

I paused. The one time today I wanted to leave a message, someone actually answered.

“Um, I’m trying to reach Officer Raitt?”

“He’s not here. Can I help you?”

“The woman down the street . . . she passed away and I wanted to let someone know about the, um, her remains.”

“Call the hotline.” He rattled off a number.

“The hotline?”

“For body removal. They’ll get to it as soon as they can. There’s quite a backlog right now.”

“OK.” I tried not to imagine the decaying body, which of course froze the image in my head. “And I have a baby. I mean, I’m watching him because his parents died. Is there a phone number for that?”

“Family Services is inundated, completely overloaded with cases. You can try contacting them, but quite honestly, with this many deaths, it’s chaos. The infant may be better off with you.”

“With me?”

“That’s my opinion as a father, not as an official member of the Portico Police,” he said. “You’re not sick are you?”

“Not feverish—”

“You’re a responsible girl, with babysitting experience?”

“Yes,” I said, “but—”

“Then keep him with you.”

I thanked him and hung up. My cuticles were a bloody mess. Gnawing at them was not helping.

TK smiled at me, making little cooing noises. I sniffed the air. Yep. He’d pooped again.

I changed him on a beach towel on the bathroom floor. My hands shook as I fastened the tabs on the disposable diaper. Panic set in. I counted the number of diapers, trying to estimate how many days they would last.

I was not equipped to care for a baby. None of my supplies would be of much use to TK. We needed more diapers, formula, and baby food. I didn’t have a crib, or a changing table, or the right mentality to handle this. I desperately wanted to call Megs, to ask her advice. The need to speak with her was like a physical ache.

Megs, what should I do? How can I possibly deal with this?

If I concentrated, I could almost hear her voice. “You’re one of the strongest people I know,” she’d say. “You have inner strength. Remember that time I broke my wrist? The bone was pushing out of my skin.”

Inner strength.
Right.
I found myself remembering that broken bone fondly, the familiar crisis—one I knew how to deal with.

Holding TK close, I breathed in his baby scent, the smell of powder and innocence. “We’re stuck with each other for now. And we definitely need a plan.” He relaxed in my arms, content for the moment. I carried him over to the kitchen pantry, surveying the contents. “I’m guessing you don’t eat black beans, so there’s not much here for you. If I had known about you when I bought food online—”

Online! I ran up the stairs as fast as I could without jostling TK. Holding him on my left side and typing with my right, I logged onto the computer, but the site I usually ordered from had a big yellow banner across the top of the page:

Due to overwhelming demand, we are running low on inventory and need to limit the quantities purchased by individual customers. The number in red next to each item is the maximum quantity that can be ordered at this time. Expedited shipping is available for $50.00.

Damn. But even a limited quantity was better than nothing. I ordered the maximum that I could from that site, even splurging for the shipping. Getting the food faster was worth it. Who knew when they would run out completely or if more delivery drivers would fail to show up for work.

As I submitted the order, Dad called.

“How’s the quarantine?” I asked.

“A few people from our group have gotten sick. The doctors were keeping a close eye on us, but now that the bird flu’s spreading throughout Delaware, they’ve been swamped. I spoke to Mom. She’s miserable but healthy. How are you holding up?”

“OK.” I told him about TK. My voice didn’t crack until I got to the part about Mrs. Goodwin.

“You’re doing the right thing by caring for him. I’m proud of you. But there will be tough times ahead. After the disease swept through Maryland, there were looters, riots. Not a good situation. I need you to be careful. Don’t go outside after dark, even in our yard. And keep the house locked up.”

“You’re not making me feel any better, Dad.”

“You never liked it when I sugar-coated things before.”

“True. Do you think we’re sick from the water or the flu? TK had to be exposed.”

“I don’t know. He’s not coughing or feverish. . . . If it worsens, Reggie can drive you to the hospital. But if he can get through tomorrow without further symptoms, he’s probably in the clear.”

“Tomorrow?” My voice quivered. “I need someone to take him sooner than that.”

“I wish I could help you.”

“Tell me some happy news.” I cradled the phone against my chin and rocked TK in my arms.

“The antiviral you took is expected to work fifty percent of the time.”

“Um, those aren’t great odds.”

“It depends on whether you’re a glass half-full or half-empty kind of person,” he said.

Right. My glass had emptied months ago. But I didn’t want to bring that up.

“How’s the weather?” I asked, making him laugh.

We talked until his phone battery ran low.

“Dad, don’t go—”

“Sorry,” he said. And then the line went dead.

Not long after, TK started to fuss.

“Is it your bedtime soon? It looks like you’re sleeping here tonight. You need a crib, buddy. Who would have an extra crib?”

I mentally ran through the options. Other neighbors with babies? They would be using their own cribs. Preschools? No. Day care centers?

Of course! Ethan’s mother ran a day care center, Portico Pals, on Main Street. She had always treated me kindly. Forget only asking for the crib. Maybe she could take TK! Why didn’t I think of that sooner?

Excited, I grabbed my phone. Ethan answered on the second ring.

“Lil, hey. What’s up?”

He sounded happy to hear from me, so I launched right in. “I need a favor.”

“Oh.” His voice deflated. “What is it?”

As if on cue, TK started to cry.

“What’s that noise? It sounds like a baby.”

“That would be the favor.” I patted TK on the back, trying to soothe him as I paced around the house.

“Uh oh.”

“Hear me out. The baby’s parents died from the flu and I’m taking care of him until I can find his relatives. But this is turning into more than a one-day thing. Do you think your mom could help?”

“I don’t know. She had to close down the day care for now. Parents worried their kids would catch the flu there. Then my aunt and uncle got sick, so my four cousins are coming to stay with us.”

“But you could ask her about one more, right? Please?”

“It’s crazy here. She’s not going to take in some stranger’s potentially ill baby,” he said.

Any chance for help slipped through my fingers. “But I don’t have anywhere for TK to even sleep and—”

“Lil, I can’t help you. You don’t want me as a boyfriend anymore. I get it. You haven’t talked to me since you blew off our date. The roses wilted and everything. So now you call because you need something? I’m not going to be your friend, hold your hand when things go wrong, still hope you’ll change your mind about me. I’m sorry.”

TK wailed. I could barely speak over his cries.

“Please—”

“Good luck.”

I stared out at our darkened backyard, straining to spot illuminated windows in the neighborhood. Those I could find seemed as distant as stars, light years away. The crooked tree limbs looked eerie under the moon. I turned on our floodlight to dispel the shadows that slithered across the lawn. Tears came faster than I could wipe them away. There was no one around to help.

C
HAPTER
14

“We live for sh*t like this,” said one professional looter. “It’s really just taking advantage of an opportunity, kind of like finders-keepers. If people leave their valuables behind, their mistake is our profit.”

—Blue Flu interview, anonymous criminal

W
hat Ethan had said about us was true. It wasn’t like we were actual friends, like he was someone I could count on to help. We hadn’t spoken since Megs died. And he mentioned flowers. I felt a tinge of regret, even though it would have taken more than roses to change my mind about our relationship. Mr. B was the catalyst that caused us to drift apart, but truthfully, once it ended, I didn’t miss Ethan as much as I should have. There was no pining away for him, no sad reminiscing about what might have been. We were together then suddenly we weren’t. Despite the mild jealously when he dated Cassandra, my life continued just fine without him.

I sighed, rocking TK in my arms. Megs had been right. I couldn’t turn back time. I could never undo what had happened to me.

“You would have liked Megs,” I told TK. “And my mom and dad will adore you. They can be annoying sometimes, but you’ll get used to them. Of course, you’ll be with your own family soon.”

TK blinked his sweet baby eyes.

“Let’s check my phone again, OK?”

Finally! Mom had texted.

Cradling TK, I typed:

I rocked TK for awhile, hoping she’d text back right away. But there was no reply.

When I finally checked the news again. Morris County had close to eighteen hundred people ill, with nearly one hundred fatalities.

Damn.

New Jersey’s governor compared the devastation to Hurricane Sandy and asked all Western states to send supplies and medical personnel to help with the crisis. One governor replied, “Sandy wasn’t contagious. We need to save our resources for the inevitable spread across America.”

On a local level, towns debated whether the now limited supply of masks and antiviral medicines should be given to patients or to first responders. Firemen were being asked to remove bodies, but obviously feared becoming infected. “This is a crazy bunch of sh*t,” one captain said with his curse bleeped. Then he coughed into the microphone.

Worries circled in my brain like buzzards. The town’s infrastructure had clearly crumbled. There were hotlines to report the overwhelming deaths. Supplies were limited. Mom and Dad were far away, and for all I knew, they could be battling the flu right now. TK could be a baby influenza bomb, poised to detonate in my home.

I knew it would take me a long time to fall asleep.

I made a bed on the floor with couch cushions as barriers so TK couldn’t crawl away. Afraid to leave him, and afraid to be alone, I snuggled next to him in a pile of blankets on the rug.

Waking up next to TK in the morning surprised me, as if my sleeping mind had momentarily erased yesterday’s drama. But there he was, all cute and needy. I did a quick health inventory. My stomach pains were gone and he seemed fever-free, and hungry.

Baby food moved up on my list of concerns. I realized we needed to visit his house again in search of more supplies. Dad’s talk about being careful weighed on me, but I didn’t have much choice with TK as my new roommate.

After breakfast, I braced myself for the task ahead. If only Megs was around to keep me brave as I hurried down the silent block past piles of accumulating trash.

TK and I reached the Goodwins’ house to find the front door ajar. Despite my call to the hotline, I doubted they took care of Mrs. Goodwin’s body that quickly. Had I left it open? Holding the storm door with one arm, I used the other to move the stroller through the doorway.

“Hello?”

I stepped inside and gasped. Their house had been looted.

It looked like a fast and messy job. Cabinets were left open. Tupperware littered the floor. A broken bag of rice was spilled across the kitchen tile.

“It’s all right, baby,” I whispered in a quivering voice, even though TK hadn’t made a sound. I wasn’t ready for a confrontation with thieves, especially with a baby to protect.

I took a few cautious steps forward, ready to bolt at the first noise. “Hello? Anyone here?” I listened, glancing around the kitchen. The rice trail went toward the rear door, so the looters were presumably gone, I hoped.

Then a harsh male laugh broke the silence—it was coming from the backyard.

With no time to unstrap TK, I shoved the stroller past his room, past the body. I imagined the decay, the smell, the blueness of her skin. It made my knees rubbery.

I couldn’t fall apart now, not without a place to hide.

A bedroom beckoned from the end of the hall and I aimed for the beige carpet, the green walls. Once inside what must have been the master bedroom, I locked the door behind us.

The voices outside were louder now, talking about meds, food, and “the going rate.” Their laughter had a sharp edge to it, like a serrated knife.