The Flu 1/2 (17 page)

Curiously, Darrell peered at Jeff. “Really?”

Jeff shrugged. “I don’t know. But wasn’t that a good comeback?”

“Yeah, it was.”

Jeff reached into the box and pulled out a couple of packages of Ho-Hos. He tossed one to Darrell as he plopped back on the bed. “Treat.”

“Thanks.” Darrell started to unwrap his cake. “You know, thinking about this, food, television, a nice hotel room. This might not be too bad.”

“Even with a deadly flu raging outside?” Jeff asked.

“Hey, even though it was our strongest lead for Rodriguez, where were we supposed to go today? Huh?” Darrell nodded. “Ohio. And any delay, flu or no flu, is better than going back to Ohio.”

“True.” Jeff indulged in his cake. “Anything is better than that.”

* * *

Lodi, Ohio

It felt to Dylan as if it was ten o’clock at night, but the clock had barely struck noon. It had been a long day. She couldn’t recall ever reflecting so much upon her life as she did in those few quiet moments alone in her bedroom.

Pantyhose off, dress hung back up, Dylan slipped into a pair of shorts despite her mother’s warning that she had to stay dressed up. She couldn’t figure out why. Sam was one that wore jeans wherever he went. Sam would have told Dylan, “Don’t pay attention to your mom. Wear what’s comfortable.” And Dylan did. She had a lot of people to talk to, visit with. Even though she didn’t feel up to it, it was her obligation.

Many people had showed up for Sam’s funeral. Including the biker escort, there were too many to count. Dylan was grateful the weather stayed nice and the neighbors didn’t mind the fact that a simple wake had turned into a block party because there was nowhere else to put the people.

It was a party. A quiet party, but still a party nonetheless, a release of tension. But the tension didn’t leave, not for Dylan, at least. She was worse. Sam was gone, the man who was not only her husband, the father to her children, but also a part of her life for as long as she could remember. She was handing his death just a little better than she anticipated, but Dylan expected it to pummel her the moment things quieted down.

Death was not something, at any time, that Dylan took well. It bothered her, caused nightmares. She had such a tremendous fear of dying that anytime someone close to her age passed on, she swore she was suffering from the same ailment.

And though Sam took his own life, Dylan worried about an accident of some kind taking her own.

Enough ‘alone’ time had been stolen, and Dylan knew it was time to go back downstairs before everyone wondered where she had disappeared to.

She expected to be bombarded, expected the rising and falling sound of voices in conversation. What she didn’t expect was the silence.

Not a sound except the television was heard in a living room so packed with people that she could barely make her way through. Everyone stood there watching, listening to the broadcast that Dylan didn’t want to hear.

Spotting her mother as one of those watching the news, Dylan figured someone had better tend to the food and she preferred that someone be herself. Unnoticed, or so she thought, Dylan moved through the crowd and into her kitchen.

Mick spotted her. He, too, had been watching the news but to him, at that moment, other things were important. Following the sound of pots being removed from a cabinet, he went to the kitchen.

“Hey,” he spoke when he stepped in. “You need help?”

Dylan turned around. “You’re not watching.”

Mick shook his head.

“You can put the ham on the table. Uncover it first,” Dylan said. “So...what are they saying?”

“Who?”

“The news.”

Mick moved to the table. His hands moved slowly as he removed the foil. “Same thing as this morning. California and Alaska.”

“Do they know what it is?” Dylan grabbed a bag of buns and began taking them out.

“They’re calling it the Barrow Flu.”

Dylan looked over her shoulder at Mick. His back was to her. “Never heard of it,” she said.

“That’s just what they’re calling it. They’re saying it’s...it’s the flu. Only, how did they put it....” Mick paused to think; his voice was low-key and didn’t convey what he was feeling. “They said it transmits very easily. And the ailments are severe. Severe enough that people won’t be able to really function for a few days. But they’re also saying it’s nothing to worry about. It’s not deadly.”

“Mick?” Dylan walked to him. “Why do I get the feeling you aren’t buying it?”

“I am.” Mick took a breath then looked at her. “I am.”

“You seem worried.”

“Who, me?” Mick smiled. “Now when do I worry?”

“When something scares you. Is this scaring you, Mick?” Dylan locked eyes with him.

“Nah.” With his mouth closed, Mick shook his head. Then, like a switch, his whole face changed and his false positive demeanor dropped along with his voice. “Yeah. Yeah it is. A little.”

“Then you don’t buy what they’re saying?”

“No.” Mick shook his head. “Who in their right mind would? I mean, think about it, Dylan. If this thing’s not so bad, if this thing’s not deadly... then why in God’s name are they shutting down states?”

“It’s just...it’s just two states.”

“Just two states?” Mick softly chuckled. “Dylan, when in your entire life have you ever known for the government to quarantine two states? It’s scary.” A slow breath escaped Mick as he lowered his face to hers with concern. “Thirty million people are locked in with something that no one wants out.”

Anchorage, Alaska

It was the first time in days he had been taken from his hospital room. Bill thought perhaps the noise level had increased, but never did he expect the reasons for it. The biohazard suits the CDC workers wore were like dancing blue specks amongst the massive amount of people in the halls. As he was pushed down the corridor in a wheelchair, Bill watched all that was happening. Carts with patients on them were wheeled in and out of rooms. Furniture was moved about, as if they were making room. The one simple flu bug that he had been exposed to, in Bill’s mind, couldn’t be the cause for all of this activity. And at that moment Bill started to feel guilty. If that many people were sick, how much of that was he directly responsible for? The bug wouldn’t be in Anchorage had he not brought it home.

“Stop.” Bill held up his hand as they approached a room. He took a moment to cough. It was loose, more productive. “Is this her room?”

“Yes,” the nurse who pushed him, answered through her mask.

“I’ll walk in,” Bill said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. If she needs to see this thing won’t beat her, she needs to see me standing.”

The nurse didn’t respond, she simply locked the brakes on the wheelchair and, with gloved hands, assisted Bill to his feet. She didn’t go in the room. She wasn’t permitted.

Alone, Bill approached the door. He lifted his hand and knocked once.

He recognized the dark skin and Lexi Martin’s face, even through her face shield.

“Mr. Daniels,” Lexi said, “come in.”

Bill nodded and stepped inside. He could see Isabella across the room in a bed surrounded by equipment. Actually, with all the test tubes, to Bill it looked as if her bed were positioned in a lab more so than in a hospital room.

“She awake?”

“Yes.” Lexi motioned with her hand and led Bill to the bed.

Bill rested his hand on Isabella’s. “Hey, you,” he said softly.

Isabella’s head turned to him and her feverish eyes slowly opened.

Bill called upon his inner strength at that second when he saw how sick Isabella looked. Her eyes were dark, her face was pale, and her lips had dried and cracked. Black splotches formed under her chin on a grossly-enlarged portion of her neck.

“Look what you’ve gone and gotten yourself into,” he joked. “I told you not to kiss me.” He turned his head and released a small cough.

Isabella tried to speak, but her jaw would barely open due to the swollen glands.

“Got yourself a private room, I see.” Bill winked. “You don’t know how lucky you are. Everyone else is jammed in. You’re special.”

Lexi added, “She is. She gets the royal treatment. Actually, we’ve a lot to learn from her, since we know she definitely has the flu. She’s going to be a big help.”

“Hear that?” Bill asked Isabella. “You’re gonna help others. Isn’t that just like you?”

Again, Isabella tried to talk, but as she inhaled to do so, she was shaken by a violent cough, deep and resonating. She wheezed hard and coughed again, her face turning purple and red; she struggled to breathe, just as repugnant brown mucus slid from the corner of her mouth.

As if it was nothing, Lexi casually stepped in front of Bill. Almost too carefully, she removed the seeping sputum with a tissue, smiled at Isabella, then with an ‘excuse me’ moved away from the bed and walked over to what looked like a lab counter.

Bill watched Lexi place the tissue in a plastic dish, for testing he supposed. He glanced back down at Isabella who looked up at him as she tried with everything she had, to focus on his face.

Lexi returned. “Maybe we should let her rest, Mr. Daniels. And you, too.”

Bill understood; the brief visit had taken its toll on him. “Want to rest, Isabella?”

The slight tilt forward that Isabella’s head moved could have been considered a nod.

“I’ll let you rest then.” Hand on hers, Bill leaned closer to her. “I think I’ll nap, too.” He kissed her gently on the forehead.

She managed to moisten her lips some, then with thick mucus gurgling in her throat, Isabella croaked, “Are you better?”

“Me?” Bill asked. “Absolutely. Still not a hundred percent, strength is getting better. Fever broke for good this morning. But I still get....” he dramatically smacked his tongue in a clicking sound around his mouth as his face scrunched up, “I get this nasty taste in my mouth when I cough.” He chuckled, which irritated a little cough from him. After hitting himself once in the chest, Bill cringed. “See? There it is.”

Isabella’s eyes closed in agreement.

“You get some rest.” Bill kissed her again. “And get better.”

Slowly, Isabella looked at him. “Will I?”

“Hell yeah.” Bill smiled. “Aren’t I standing proof? If you don’t believe me, ask Dr. Lexi here. She’ll tell you.” Bill pointed to Lexi.

However, eyes too focused on Isabella, Bill didn’t see the telltale way that Lexi glanced away from him.

* * *

Reston, Virginia

Henry stared for a moment at the computer screen then slowly turned his chair to look at Kurt.

“Worse?” Kurt asked.

“The whole team is ill. All septic.” Henry tapped his hand on the arm of the chair and stood up. “I think I’m more than ready for bed.”

“Me, too,” Kurt agreed, a cup of coffee in his hand. “I haven’t slept in two days.”

“Me either.” Henry walked, hoping the movement would revitalize him. “I just hope I wake up tomorrow.”

“Kind of a wrong thing to say, don’t you think, in light of this flu thing.”

“I guess.” Henry picked up the coffee pot and inhaled the aroma of the freshly-brewed coffee. “What are we doing, Kurt?”

“Fighting.”

After a breath, Henry took a sip. “Do you know what tomorrow will bring? Do you? It’s already started.”

“Every hospital in every city will think they have the flu,” Kurt spoke in an almost dreamlike way. “People will flock to them. But hopefully,” he sighed, “sensible health facilities will be able to determine ‘real’ from psychosomatic. But you know it’s probably only going to be a matter of another day or two that every hospital in every city
will
have the flu. The World Health Organization....” His head turned at the sound of the office door opening. “Speaking of the WHO.”

Stepping into the office was Joshua Lincoln, a stern, tall older gentlemen from the World Health Organization. He set down his briefcase as soon as he walked in, flashed a greeting smile and began to take off his jacket. “Your relief is now here. Go get some rest, gentlemen. I’ll hold down this end.”

With sleep in sight, Henry’s eyes felt even heavier, if that were possible. “Thank, God,” he said. “I don’t think my poor body can handle any more.”

Kurt set down his cup. “Yes, but with all that’s on our minds, will we be able to rest?”

Henry swayed as he threw a look Kurt’s way. “Yes.”

Joshua chuckled. “Have you two left this office at all? Get some air. It’s not bad out there. I expected the worst. You know, a lot of panic and such. It’s calm. Eerie.”

“Like before the storm,” Kurt said.

“True,” Joshua concurred. “Airports are dead. I was one of four people on the plane. People are taking this very seriously on this side of the country.”