The Flu 1/2 (10 page)

However, for the first time he was grateful for it. It was a long day that was far from over. Paul had cleared his throat and held back gags so many times that it was actually sore. He had to keep telling himself he didn’t have the flu. And even if he had caught it, there was no way he would be symptomatic that fast. He hoped.

Almost universally known as Instant Messaging, what was loaded on Paul’s computer was named Winston Messaging. Basically, the exact premise, but because of the nature of the work, it was a more secure means of electronic communication that most Winston Employees used at and away from work. Paul only used it when needed. Henry preferred its use with his people in the field because he was able to save the conversation, print it and refer to it.

In the mobile lab, Paul stared at his computer. He wanted to log off, but there was still a lot to be said, and he had to wait for Henry, who had paused to take a phone call.

The ‘bleep’ alert sounded and drew Paul’s attention.

HBK_HENRY: Back. Where were we?

PAUL_La_STUD: Up shit creek without a paddle.

HBK_HENRY: Are you sure?

PAUL_La_STUD: Confirmed.

HBK_HENRY: Double?

PAUL_La_STUD: Triple.

HBK_HENRY: Total?

PAUL_La_STUD: 95.—-Station 16, Deadhorse, 30, Prudhoe, 46.

HBK_HENRY: Closest other village?

PAUL_La_STUD: Kaktovik. And that was clean. No sign.

HBK_HENRY: Thank God. That’s good. Can we rule it out as incubating?

PAUL_La_STUD: Yes. Our station was infected nearly two weeks ago. About a week to run its course, maybe more, maybe less. I have to review more. The old man will tell a lot.

HBK_HENRY: Has he said anything?

PAUL_La_STUD: Only that the last person died yesterday.

HBK_HENRY: Infected last week?

PAUL_La_STUD: Yep. So, if Kaktovik was hit, there would have been signs of it there or else they’d be wiped out. But we can’t get excited yet. Tomorrow is a big day.

HBK_HENRY: Barrow?

PAUL_La_STUD: Yes. Multiple city checks. Barrow and all coastal communities. If this thing spread, that’s where it’s at. And if they were infected they should be in full viral stage.

HBK_HENRY: What do you think?

Paul paused before responding. He lifted his hands from the keyboard, took a breath then returned.

PAUL_La_STUD: I think there’s more of a chance Barrow was hit than Kaktovik. Prudhoe villagers travel there. Are you going to inform Kurt?

HBK_HENRY: Centers for Disease Control doesn’t need to know yet. Not yet. I’ll tell Kurt when we can assure him this thing is secure.

PAUL_La_STUD: And if you can’t tell him that?

HBK_HENRY: Then I’m going to have to find a way to inform him that his worst nightmare is about to become a reality.

Lodi, Ohio

Dustin Hughes never considered himself an adult in a teenager’s body. He enjoyed being a child, acting younger than his seventeen years and using that as an excuse to not have to babysit. Not that Tigger was a tough one to watch. He slept a lot more than normal, which was to be expected.

How long did Dustin wait for its return? Weeks. And when his grandfather called and said
Best of Wrestlemania
was back in for rental, Dustin ran all the way into town. He didn’t want to take a chance that his grandfather might rent that out to someone else.

The night was planned. He and Christian ordered subs, they had their chips, Dylan wasn’t home, and when Tigger crashed for the night right after the sun went down, Dustin and Christian were going to watch that special.

So why did he let the sounds his recently-returned father made distract him? Because Dustin knew Sam made the noise out of frustration. If he was old enough to understand why his dad was living in the house, Dustin assumed his father understood the reason, as well. He had to wonder what in his mother’s statement, ‘This is not a reconciliation,’ confused his father.

Dustin loved his father, there was no doubt. But the older Dustin got the more he understood his father and the situation. Each breakup his parents had was like a grade level in school, learning more with each passing year; seeing things clearly and deciphering them without exactly being told the facts. But Dustin didn’t have to be an Einstein to figure out the last breakup. Even Christian in his own world saw that one for what it was.

Pap and Grandma Hughes had been killed in a car accident. Dustin watched his father not handle the deaths, and then he woke up one morning, went in to tell his mother the alarm clock was going off, and he didn’t have to watch his father anymore.

Gone. His father was gone. A simple note on the coffeepot telling Dylan he had to get his head straight, was all there was.

No money. No word. Nothing for three months. What shocked Dustin the most was Dylan. Never did his mother speak ill of his father. She actually defended him, which pissed Dustin off, but he hid his feelings. When his father finally returned, Dustin welcomed him back, but he swore he would never really see his dad the same way. And he didn’t. That didn’t keep him from wanting his father in his life and being a part of his daily activities, however, Dustin was mature enough to know he could have his father in his life without having his father be in Dylan’s life.

It was, by far, the longest span of time his parents were ever apart. And though almost every child of estranged parents fantasized seeing them reconciled, Dustin did not. He realized
that
when he saw what they were like apart. Or rather what his mother was like.

Dustin liked the fact that his mother rambled on, complained, and talked a lot instead of being silent, muffled by his father who spoke for her all the time. He enjoyed her recent silly antics much more than when she acted reserved and shy. He looked forward to hearing her stories about the people she met while out, and he stopped minding the stupid country love songs she blasted in the house while singing them loudly and badly. He liked that his mother wore makeup, let her hair grow long, smiled all the time, and said ‘fuck’ once too often.

He liked what his mother evolved into in the course of seven months, and he didn’t want to see his mother revert to what she had been, even if it was at the cost of his father being hurt. To Dustin it was justified. How many times had his father hurt his mother?

Christian caught the slight huff of irritation Dustin produced when the screen door slammed and his father stepped in and walked through the living room. “Rewind?” Christian asked.

“Um, yeah.” Dustin rested his face on his hand. “Please. I can’t enjoy that move.”

Christian hit rewind.

Another huff escaped Dustin when he heard his father banging around in the kitchen, the clank of a tin can in the recycle bin, and his father retrieving another beer.

“Still watching?” Sam asked as he walked into the living room.

“Dad?” Dustin looked up. “Don’t you think you’ve drunk enough?”

Sam laughed. “Listen to you.” He took a drink. “When’s your mom coming home? Where is she?”

Dustin didn’t respond, he only signaled Christian to rewind, yet again.

“I’m starting to get upset here. It’s late,” Sam said. “I thought tonight she’d be here since it’s my first night home.”

“Don’t,” Christian warned when he saw Dustin turn to face his father.

It caught Sam’s attention. “Don’t what?” He smiled. “Dustin? What doesn’t he want you to do? Is your mom planning a surprise for me?”

“Dad,” Dustin said with some sadness, “you aren’t that naïve, are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You and mom aren’t back together,” Dustin explained. “You’re only living here.”

“But that won’t be for long,” Sam told him. “Really, is it ever?”

“This time, it might be. No...” Dustin hesitated, “I
know
it is.”

Christian whined. “Aw. Now why’d you tell him? You shouldn’t tell him.”

Dustin snapped a disgusted look at his brother. “I didn’t tell him anything.”

“Oh.” Christian returned to the television.

Slowly Sam moved to the couch. “Now you did.” He swallowed. “What? If it’s about your mom being involved with Tracy, I know...”

“Tracy?” Dustin asked. “It’s not some girl. Geez, Dad. Mom’s not a lesbian.”

Christian looked embarrassed. “Can we not discuss lesbians?”

“Dustin,” Sam crouched down to the couch, “your mom may have been confused while I was gone. Got emotionally tied up with some woman, deepened the friendship more...”

“Ugh!” Dustin shrieked. “Stop that. My mother’s not a lesbian. I would know.”

“Please,” Christian begged, trying to block them out.

Sam ignored Christian. “No, Dustin I do know. Where do you think she is now?’

“Not with some woman named Tracy. She’s with who she’s always with. Mick.”

Sam stood to his feet. “Mick?” After a brief hesitation, Sam chuckled. “Mick’s not a concern. She uses him.”

“She loves him.” Dustin stood as well. “And...and….” Trying to sound grown up and calm, Dustin finished, “And she’s happy, Dad. Really happy.”

“Is that where’s she been? Really? With Mick this whole time?”

Dustin nodded, and before he could look up his father had flown from the living room and into the kitchen. He heard the cellar door bang open. “What’s he doing?”

“See, now.” Christian stood up. “You opened your mouth.”

“You started it.”

“No, you did,” Christian argued.

“Oh, yeah? Who’s the one...” Dustin looked up at the sound of his father’s angry steps and he panicked. “Dad!” He charged toward his father, who raged to the door holding a shotgun. “Dad! No! I was kidding.” Dustin gave a quick snicker. “Wasn’t I, Chris?”

Christian hesitated and he tried to fake a laugh as well. “Yeah. Bad joke.”

Sam looked at both of his boys. “Thanks. But I think I needed that blast of reality. And now, I need to do this.” He pulled away from Dustin and flung open the door.

“No!” Dustin screamed. “Don’t go after Mom. Don’t!”

“I’m not doing anything to your mom,” Sam spoke calm. “I’m only killing Chief Owens.” With these final words, before Dustin could stop him again, Sam was gone.

“Shit!” Dustin shrieked. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

“Oh my God,” Christian panicked. “He’s gonna kill Mick.” He calmed down then looked at his brother. “Can he kill Mick?”

“I don’t know. We have to let him know though.” Hurrying, Dustin moved to the phone and picked it up. “I’ll call.” He frantically dialed. “Shit.” he hung up.

“What?” Christian asked.

“It’s busy.”

“Keep dialing.”

Dustin returned with resolve to the task.

* * *

With the modern country music playing, Mick finished pulling his hair into a neater ponytail. He glanced at his watch and turned around with a smile. “We have ten minutes, we can make it, Dylan, before Sweet Treats closes.”

Slipping on her shoes, fully dressed, Dylan stood up. “Why do you want to run down there?”

“You know it’s an idiosyncrasy of mine. I like ice cream after we make love.”

“Then you should have bought some.” She turned to the bed.

“Right.” Mick laughed. “That means I was assuming you’d sleep with me. I never make that assumption with you.”

Dylan gasped. “You are so rude.”

“I’m honest. Now hurry.”

“Why can’t you smoke afterwards like normal people?”

Mick shut off the stereo and walked to the bed. He grabbed her hand from the covers. “Don’t worry about making this. Let’s go.”

“Fine.” Dylan stopped. Stepping to leave, she backtracked. “Oh! The phone.” Reaching to the night stand she replaced the receiver. The second she did, it rang.

Mick moaned.

“Hush.” Dylan lifted it. “Hello.”

Fervently, quickly, Dustin spoke into the phone, “Mom. Oh my God, Mom, tell Mick, Dad’s coming over there to shoot him.”

“Your father’s on his way to do what?”

BOOM. The bedroom door crashed open. Sam racked a round into the chamber, lifted the shotgun, and aimed it at Mick.

“Dustin, I’ll call you back.” Blindly, Dylan hung up the phone.

Two inches was all that separated the barrel of the shotgun and Mick’s face. Mick kept his eyes steady on Sam who glared back at him. The gun didn’t waver, and that concerned Mick.

“Sam,” Mick said calmly. “What are you doing?”

“Yeah, Sam,” Dylan snapped. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Dylan,” Mick gave a calm warning.

Sam exhaled harshly. “I can’t believe you did this to me.”

“Who?” Dylan asked with edge. “Me or Mick.”

“You,” Sam told her.

“Well, then if I did this to you why the fuck are you holding the gun on Mick?”