Pandemic (6 page)

Megs’s dad had been a great guy, the kind who made up games to play with us in the backyard. Her swing set could turn into a spaceship or the Amazon jungle when he was around. It was when he died unexpectedly that I first tried to negotiate with the universe: my Goodness in exchange for my family’s safety.

But I hadn’t counted on Mr. B.

“You’ll be OK,” Megs said.

I wasn’t so sure. Could I be physically comfortable with someone again? Maybe with someone familiar, like Ethan?

I made an effort to smile, then gestured to the computer, needing a change of subject. “Are you chatting again?”

“Yeah. He seems amazing. Smart, funny.”

“He’s the most perfect guy you’ve never met.”

“It feels like I
do
know him. We’ve covered favorite novel, worst subjects in school, and bad habits. He smokes, which I’m not crazy about.”

“What did you say your bad habit was? Flirting with online disaster?”

“Puh-lease.”

I wanted to support her, wanted Megs to find love, but I wanted it to be with someone safe. Not a stranger, someone unknown, possibly dangerous. “OK. But I’m an unwilling accomplice.”

“I know.” She paused. “I was trying to think of a flaw. Nothing that would turn him off, maybe something intriguing.”

“You’re going to make one up? Why not tell him something true?”

“I want him to like me!”

“Right. Because it really matters what stranger-boy thinks.”

“Are you going to help me make up a good bad habit or not?”

“Fine.” Megs was my best friend. Actually, my only real friend. I wanted her to be happy. “Maybe you could smoke, too.”

“I’m not an idiot with a death wish.” She scowled in disapproval.

“Right,” I said. “Drinking problem?”

“No. That’s too serious.”

“Perfectionist?”

“Too phony.”

“Straight A student?” I asked.

“That’s not a fault! But it’s too geeky. He might not like that.”

“Don’t be such a pessimist. Maybe he likes smart chicks.”

“Ahh, that’s it! I’ll tell him I’m a pessimist.” She started typing. “You’re a genius. Then I can say something flirtatious, like, ‘The pessimist in me fears our relationship can’t go much further.’”

“Yeah, then what?”

“He’ll offer to meet me.”

“Megs, you can’t. I know you’re having fun with this, but meeting a stranger is insane. And unsafe. And other cynical stuff.”

That’s the thing about Megs. Whenever we played truth or dare, she was a dare-girl all the way. While I preferred truth, she was a fearless risk-taker.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I have a plan.”

C
HAPTER
6

Worrying about influenza is as stupid and time wasting as worrying about global warming.

—Blue Flu interview, news commentator

D
uring the week, I carefully followed the Maryland virus in the news. The authorities had performed a biosecurity check of nearby labs and had conducted other investigations deemed too secret to publicize, so most reporters concluded the link between the illness and bioterrorism was ludicrous. A few continued to argue for a conspiracy theory. Whichever it was, the flu-like disease wasn’t waiting for anyone’s verdict. It continued to spread at an alarming rate.

But I didn’t need a news feed to tell me that the situation worsened. I could tell by looking at Dad. When I stumbled into the kitchen for breakfast on Friday, he was making coffee. Dark circles underlined his eyes and his posture drooped.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“Huh? Nothing, really. I’m fine. Preoccupied. Things have been busy.”

“You must be getting ready for your trip tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

“And following the spread of the flu?” I handed him sugar for his coffee.

“Yes, that too. It’s hard when something hits this close to home.”

“Close to home?”

He swallowed, hesitating. “There were fatalities in Maryland, hospitalizations in Delaware, and now eight people in New Jersey have been reported sick.”

My heart raced, but I made an effort to remain perfectly still. If I panicked, Dad would clam up. “New Jersey?” I asked with only the slightest tremor in my voice. “I didn’t know that. Near here?”

He stirred his coffee for what seemed like forever.

“Dad?”

“I suppose it’s better if you hear it from me. It struck Morris County. Five people from Portico are ill, plus a young couple from Madison and a man from Florham Park. It will be in today’s paper.”

“What is
it
exactly?”

“The CDC is working on a definitive diagnosis. They’re trying to determine if the people knew each other, or if these are isolated incidents. The victims had similar symptoms.”

Fear crept up my back on light spidery legs. “What are the symptoms?”

“Typical flu stuff, like fever, cough, fatigue, but they come on fast and fluid builds in the lungs.” He paused.

“Tell me, Dad.”

He sighed. “They’re starting to call it the Blue Flu.”

“Like when the police call in sick instead of striking?” Megs’s mom had explained that to us years ago.

“No. It’s called the Blue Flu because sometimes the lack of oxygen . . . well, in advanced cases, it causes the victims’ skin to change color.”

“Maybe I should stay home from school today.”

He tried to give his reassuring Dad smile. “It’s nothing to worry about, yet,” he said.

Yeah right.
Dad just didn’t want me to become an emotional wreck with Mom away. I skipped breakfast and forced myself to get ready for school.

“Don’t forget,” Principal Fryman reminded us during the Friday morning announcements. “Tomorrow is the annual Portico Career Fair. April showers bring May flowers, so get your feet wet this weekend and help support Portico’s ‘Doorway to Learning.’ Remember, it’s our biggest fundraiser of the year. Also, the food drive is still going on. Collection boxes are located in the main lobby. It’s better to give than receive! And, we’re pleased to announce a poster contest sponsored by the Morris County Health Department promoting proper illness etiquette. Sneeze into your sleeve, wash your hands, that kind of thing. Rules and requirements are available at the office. Remember, you have to be in it to win it!”

He ended his announcement with a noisy cough that made me shudder.

I dropped off a box of pasta and three cans of peas for the food drive while on alert for other sounds of illness. I went through the whole morning hyper-aware of any possible germs around me. Each sneeze and every sniffle registered in the paranoid part of my brain. By lunchtime, I drooped with exhaustion. Megs and I ate across from each other at our usual table. The cafeteria noises washed over me and I stopped trying to distinguish the individual sounds.

“Are you all right?” Megs asked.

“Tired, I guess. Feeling anxious, too. What’s up with the illness poster contest?”

“I don’t know. It sounds dumb.”

“Don’t you find it worrisome? Why are they running it now, unless they’re concerned about this flu spreading?”

“You’re spiraling again. Downward descent.”

She was right, of course. But before I could respond, Jay walked by, saying hi to me as he passed on the way to Derek and Ethan’s table. Megs almost knocked over her iced tea. “What was that all about?” she asked. “I didn’t know you guys were buddies.”

“He lives on my street, remember? And we’ve talked at the smoking corner.”

“Hmm. I can see you with someone like him.”

“He’s nice, but not BF material.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“He’s got that cool, popular vibe going on.”

“Exactly. He’s cute. Dark hair, dark eyes—”

“Girls drool over him. Not my type.”

“What’s not to like?” Megs asked. “I heard he was at a party a few weeks ago. He’s reviewing restaurants for his blog and a bunch of girls offered to go out to eat with him. Kayla practically threw herself at him and he still left the party alone.”

“Blech. My point exactly. Too much drama.”

“But he’s picky. That shows integrity.”

“Maybe I should introduce you if he’s so great.”

“No, thanks. I’ve got my online friend to occupy me for now. But you’ve got to date again sometime.” She spoke quietly. “I know you’re healing and all that, but sooner or later you’ll have another boyfriend. Someone better than Ethan.”

“Later,” I said. “Much later. I have other things to worry about.”

I tried to imagine Jay and Kayla as a couple. She didn’t seem his type. Not that I knew what his type was, exactly. So it was only out of curiosity that I searched for his restaurant reviews after school. Dad suggested Chinese or Japanese for dinner and Jay’s blog had its own section on our town website.

Jay had a pretty good sense of humor. I doubt he ate at the restaurant alone. Not that I cared. Anyway, no picking up food tonight. Dad would prefer delivery so I stuck with our usual place.

I glanced through my school email account. My guidance counselor had sent a message that she needed to meet with me. That couldn’t be good. Had one of my teachers realized I was skipping class? It didn’t feel like a problem I should deal with tonight.

Next, I checked for updated flu news, but it mirrored what Dad had already told me. I planned to pump him for more information about the virus during dinner. But right as we sat down to eat, the phone rang. Dad moved away from the table, murmuring in the next room. After he hung up, he came to the kitchen, his skin pale, forehead creased, mouth drooped. Bad news.

My guidance counselor wouldn’t call my parents yet, would she? I put my fork down perfectly straight on the folded white napkin. “What’s the matter?”

“Angela . . . she’s at Morristown General. They had to do an emergency C-section.”

“Is she all right? And the baby, too?”

“The baby’s doing well so far. A boy. But Angela . . . she’s in a medically-induced coma.” Dad took off his glasses to clean them on the corner of his shirt, first the left side, then the right. After putting them back on, he blinked a few times, as if trying to make something clearer. “The doctors don’t know exactly what happened. They’re running tests.”

“Is it that illness?”

“It looks like it. There’ve been more cases today.”

Fear heightened my senses. Everything around me became clearer: the ticking of the kitchen clock, the worry lines on Dad’s face, the smell of our uneaten lo mein. The invisible horror had slithered into our everyday lives. Even though it had been what I was expecting, even imagining, the reality was more paralyzing than I thought.

Then something worse occurred to me. I stood, then hugged Dad hard. “You’ve been exposed,” I whispered.

“No, honey, Angela worked from home last week. I haven’t seen her. But there’s been at least one death in New Jersey.”

I swallowed.

“It seems scary, I know. It’s a horrible time for me to leave you. I tried to cancel. I really tried. But since the conference focuses on emerging infections, with this new flu activity, it’s transforming into a major event.”

“Could I come with you?” Desperation crept into my voice.

“I considered that, but I’m sharing a room with the social media editor from California. I checked into available rooms, but with other conventions booked at the hotel, there aren’t any,” he said. “I’m only a train ride away to Delaware if you need me. And Mom called. She’s finishing up her business and trying to take an earlier flight back. She might even beat me home.”

“But—”

“It’s the weekend. You could stay in the house the whole time if you want. It’s probably a good idea to avoid crowded places right now.”

I blinked, willing myself not to cry.

“I’m sorry, Lily. I know this is tough. Do you think you’ll be all right for a few days?”

“Yes,” I said, because it’s what he wanted to hear.

We both pushed the food around our plates, no longer hungry. After dinner, back in my room, I picked at my nail polish until the garbage can was littered with black flecks. The panic kept bubbling up, threatening to spill over, and no amount of picking or pacing seemed to help.

Sitting on the floor with my legs crossed, I practiced deep breathing the way Dr. Gwen had taught me. Breathe in, two, three, four. Breathe out, two, three, four. Finally, the panic subsided enough for me to try to separate facts from my heightened emotions.

Dad had written a lot of infectious disease articles and one thing I knew for sure: experts had said another pandemic would occur. They knew it for certain. What they didn’t know was when.