Pandemic (17 page)

He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“I did have an idea about helping orphans in the neighborhood, but now . . . everything feels too hard.”

“What was your orphan idea?”

Reluctantly, I told him.

“That’s a decent plan. Maybe we should get the other high school kids together, canvass the neighborhood for babies in trouble.”

“I don’t know.”

“You wouldn’t help? Didn’t you used to be the Community Service Queen? I seem to remember Ethan bragging about an award you won.”

Yeah, and look what that got me. Nothing but trouble and an emotional crisis.

“Maybe the town’s already doing something,” I said. “We can’t be the first ones to think of this.”

“Maybe not.” Jay typed something on the computer, then pulled up an article criticizing the town for its lack of action. “This article says, ‘Portico’s using a triage system to deal with the ill but the town’s overwhelmed by the number of deaths. Healthy people are expected to care for themselves until officials can organize an outreach effort to help the living.’”

“Really?”

“That’s what it says. So it looks like we could do something useful. I’m going to post something on my blog.”

“Like what?”

“I’ll set up a meeting for tomorrow. We can sit outside in my backyard, with fresh air and hand sanitizer.”

“What about Ty? You’d risk exposing him?”

Jay glowered at me.

I ignored him and checked my phone. There were three brief messages from Dad and one from Mom, saying the airport situation was crazy but that she should know her travel schedule tomorrow. When I finished responding, I realized that Jay was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to upset you about Ty.”

“It’s OK. It’s just that when my mom was sick, she begged me to always take care of him. She asked me, not my sisters. Ty’s the youngest, the baby, and I promised her he’d be safe.” He twisted side to side in my dad’s swivel chair. “He can stay in the house. I would never put him at risk.”

“I know you’ll be careful. I was being mean. You made me feel bad because I don’t want to help.”

“During Mom’s illness, we would have fallen apart if so many people didn’t help us—neighbors, friends, even strangers.”

“Cancer isn’t contagious, though. Those people could be involved without any personal risk.”

“It’s good karma, Lil. What goes around comes around.”

“You sound like Fryman. And I don’t believe in karma.”

“Anyway, I’ve made some changes to the site. I’m waiting for them to upload,” he said.

The computer dinged.

“It’s finished.” He twisted the screen so I could see. “I posted a note saying healthy kids from school should contact me. We’ll meet at three o’clock tomorrow outside at my house. Got plans?”

His eyes had a soft pleading look. Anxiety welled up inside of me, making it hard to breathe. The looters, Mr. B, the germs—danger hovered everywhere. I couldn’t do it. Jay had good intentions, but I needed to protect myself.

“Sorry,” I said. “I just can’t.”

C
HAPTER
17

Pandemic phases 1 to 3 are like the pre-ignition of a fire. Phase 4 is like combustion—you’ve got dangerous flames. In phases 5 and 6, wind spreads the embers and the fire grows uncontrollably. So the official upgrade to phase 6 means major trouble.

—Blue Flu interview, Colorado Emergency Medical Technician

T
K was still in blissful baby sleep and there was no sign of Jay and Ty being up when I awoke. My stomach grumbled for breakfast. Ignoring it, I showered and braided my hair in a loose plait, then surveyed my clothes. I reached for a striped black T-shirt and hesitated. Jay had complimented me on wearing blue. Did I care, though? Sighing, I pulled the striped one off the hanger.

For breakfast, Jay and Ty ate dried Captain Crunch cereal that Jay had brought over. TK gobbled pureed pears and baby rice cereal. I opened and closed the pantry, trying to overlook my hunger. I needed to stretch my food supply as long as possible.

“What’s the matter?” Jay asked.

Was I that transparent? It was almost scary how well he could read me.

“Um, I’m figuring out how long I can feed TK with the food delivered yesterday.”

“He should be all right for a few weeks, right? And you need to eat, too.” He poured a bowl of cereal and slid it toward me.

I took slow, grateful bites.

“We brought you some lunch. Nothing exciting. Tuna, soup, and some crackers. I’ll put it in the cabinet.”

“Thank you.” I could make that last two days if I had to.

“Hey,” Ty said. “We could take some of Priati’s jars of mush. She won’t mind.”

“Priati?”

“One of the families that left town,” Jay explained. “They had a kid about TK’s age. Ty’s right. They don’t plan on coming back any time soon. Maybe we could check their cabinets for extra baby food. And supplies for you, too.”

“Is that OK? It’s not stealing?” Ty asked.

“We can pay them back when they come home.”

“All right.” Ty smiled, his cheeks full of cereal.

“That would be great,” I said.

Once we got TK playing in his portable crib and Ty watching cartoons, Jay and I attempted to order food from the grocery site again. Still no luck. I clenched my hands in frustration. In between tries, Jay pulled up his blog.

I scanned the memorial page over his shoulder. “Am I imagining things, or did the list double overnight? There must be eighty people now.”

“How is that possible?” he asked.

“Either the flu is spreading fast or people are catching up, adding names from the past few days. Not really a good situation either way.”

Jay clicked on the “Want to help?” section he created the night before. Besides Ethan and Derek, about seven or eight girls had signed up to meet today. Kayla’s name was at the top of the list.

I rolled my eyes. “Either girls are surviving better than boys, or they’re all looking to hang out with you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “You’re sure you don’t want to come and see old friends?”

“Huh?”

“Kayla said you used to be best buds.”

I flinched. “Not anymore.” So they had been talking about me. That was awkward. And annoying.

Jay changed the subject. “If you were in charge of the meeting at my house, what would you do?”

I sat cross-legged in the chair near the desk. “You really want my advice?”

He nodded.

“I don’t know. Maybe you could come up with a plan to find kids left alone or people who need help or families without food. You can’t take a bunch of kids from their homes, though, even if the parents are . . . deceased. You’ll have to leave some type of notice so other relatives can find them and keep track of who you’re caring for and where they live. So when things are back to normal, you’ll have some type of record.”

“Good point. I’ll ask my aunt to help me draft a letter. We can leave it with our contact info. I’ll print a bunch of copies before we get together.”

“While you’re meeting, I could follow up with Reggie and see if the seniors can help with the childcare.”

“That would be great.”

I shrugged my shoulders. My self-preservationist attitude was selfish, but at least I could assist in the background. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

While Jay posted on his blog, I checked on the kids. We were watching mindless TV when Jay came downstairs carrying their duffle bags. “Time to head home,” he said.

“I don’t want to go,” Ty said. “I want to stay here.”

“We need to see if the Singhs have any baby food for TK, remember?”

Once they left, the house felt too quiet. I wished they hadn’t gone. I left a message for Reggie, then carried TK from room to room, hoping to calm my nerves.

If I ignored the chair against the door, I could almost trick myself into thinking we hadn’t been robbed, that strangers hadn’t sorted through our belongings and walked off with pillowcases of food. But the feeling of comfort didn’t last long.

Mr. B had been at my door. Why? What could he possibly want? If he knew I was alone, the situation could be even more dangerous.

When I texted Mom and Dad last night, I hadn’t mentioned any of my fears. It would make them worry even more. They would agree that I shouldn’t meet with other kids today. It was too risky and helping other people was overrated. Wasn’t it?

I was feeding TK his bottle when the phone rang. I tried to juggle the receiver without clonking him on the head.

“Hello, Miss Lil.”

“Hi Reggie.” TK whimpered until I got him repositioned with the bottle.

“Is that your little baby I hear?”

“Yes and your future best buddy. Did you talk to your friends at the Senior Center?”

He sighed. “It didn’t go over well.”

“It didn’t?” Disappointment hit me like when I unexpectedly failed a test.

“People are worried about the germs, the logistics, the time commitment.”

“Don’t retired people generally have a lot of time?”

“It’s mostly the germs, Miss Lil.”

“I totally understand the fear of germs, believe me, but babies are the least likely to get sick and TK has been symptom-free for days.”

“I tried to tell them that. But Hazel, well, she has her own opinion.”

“Hazel Templeton?”

“That’s the one.”

“I know Mrs. Templeton. She helped me set up a pen pal program between the seniors and elementary school kids last year. It started out as a reading program, but she was a total control freak and changed everything around. ‘A fabulous project’ she called it in the end.”

“Well, she said this one wasn’t so fabulous.”

“She knows it was me asking?”

“Yep. It didn’t seem to make a difference.”

“But why does she get to decide?” I asked.

“She’s still the president of the Senior Center. As the former mayor, she’s compelled to run something. Last week, she kicked out Mr. Eckhart for cheating at cards. No one even tried to argue.”

TK drained the last of his formula as I let out a sigh.

Reggie cleared his throat. “If it helps, I can watch the baby for a bit this afternoon. Maybe take him to the Center for a visit. It’ll give you a break at least.”

“That would be great. Except I don’t have a car seat for him.” I dreaded having to return to the Goodwins’ house to search for one.

“I can ask around. I’m sure one of the grandmas here has one we can borrow.”

“All right.”

I hung up after making plans for me to drop TK off at Reggie’s later. But that didn’t solve the larger problem. TK couldn’t live with me forever. I probably wouldn’t survive another week. And what about other babies in the community who needed help?

Maybe I was being silly. TK could be an anomaly . . . although it seemed unlikely.

“What do you think, buddy? Are you the only orphan?”

He smiled at me, kicking his little legs while I washed him and got him dressed in his last clean outfit, a pale green jumper with yellow ducks on it. I did a load of laundry while we played peek-a-boo, then we had lunch. I ate half the tuna with one of the crackers Jay left me.

I turned the TV on while eating. In an attempt to screen for illness, several airports had installed “thermal imaging devices” to detect feverish travelers. A siren sounded if anyone passed through with a higher than normal temperature.

The news segment showed masked officials in the Hong Kong airport escorting a businessman away. People practically trampled each other to distance themselves from the infected passenger. One woman trying to avoid getting crushed looked like Mom. She even carried a reusable green canvas bag like my mother’s. But Mom couldn’t still be in Asia, could she?

While TK napped, I got my answer by text.

Ugh. My heart sank. If she became ill in the airport, she would never make it home. She would die there and her body would probably never be returned to us and—

Stop. I had to make those thoughts stop.

I didn’t want to sound desperate.

I sat holding my phone. On impulse, I scrolled back through the texts Megs and I had sent each other. I found our last ones.

I re-read her words a dozen times, wishing I could tell her what a great friend she was, how much she helped me through the crisis with Mr. B. If she were here now, what would she tell me? Probably to take a risk, to do something crazy, even as I feared leaving the safety of home.

Then it registered: It was time to visit her house.

C
HAPTER
18

Social distancing measures can be helpful in curbing the spread of influenza. But the Blue Flu is hitting US teens hard, and how many of them will stay isolated with school cancelled?