The Flu 1/2 (33 page)

Tigger gave a pull on his sleeve. “What’s a maggot?”

Laughing, Dylan decided to intervene, “A maggot is a baby fly. Little disgusting worms.”

Tigger nodded his understanding. “Oh. Hey, Mick, so are there a zillion maggots on the bodies outside of Lodi?”

Mick opened his mouth to answer only after sending a scolding look to Dustin and Chris. “Not a zillion. A few.”

Tigger let out a little shriek. “Oh, they lied. They said maggots were crawling in and out of dead people’s bodies and....”

“Enough,” Mick grumbled. “And boys, why are you talking about this?”

“Check this out, Mick.” Dustin leaned into the picnic table. “Jerry got a hold of a scope for the camera. We were snapping off pictures of the bodies from Diggins’ roof.”

“What the—”

Rose cut off Mick. “How very entrepreneur-like of you, Dustin. Getting the scope.”

Dustin nodded. “Did you know when the Spanish flu hit no one took any really disgusting pictures for the public to see?”

“That’s because they saw it,” Mick commented.

“Yeah, but,” Dustin continued, “generations to come wouldn’t have seen it. Right?”

Rose noticed the look on her son’s face. “I hope you aren’t being fuckin’ discouraging about the career choice Dustin here is making. A photographer is a—”

“Mom,” Mick silenced her. “Who said I’m not being...Tigger!” Mick reached down to the ground, then, with his free hand lifted Tigger. “You have to use the booster seat.” Mick set the seat on the bench, then Tigger on the booster. “Use it.”

“I’m not a baby,” Tigger grumbled.

“I know you aren’t a baby,” Mick argued. “But you don’t eat when you have to kneel. If you don’t eat, you won’t grow.”

“I’m not growing anyhow.”

“Yes, you are,” Mick said.

“No.” Tigger folded his arms. “Look at me. I’m not gonna grow.”

“
I
did.” Mick said.

“What’s that got to do with me?” Tigger asked.

Rose interceded. “Mick is trying to tell you that just because you’re little today, don’t mean you won’t be a big fuckin’ ox tomorrow.” She gave a wink to Dustin and Chris who laughed. “Mick was short. God, Dylan, wasn’t he less than five feet in the ninth grade?”

“I think so,” Dylan stated. “Definitely shorter than me.”

“And round,” Rose whistled. “Mick was as round as they came. Called him Orca.”

“Mom.” Mick groaned.

Rose ignored him and continued reminiscing. “Had to get a steel toilet seat. Mick broke three of them his eighth grade year.”

“Mom!” Mick cowered behind his own hand.

Chris shrieked. “You broke toilet seats? Ah, man, Mick. That’s funny.”

“It isn’t funny,” Dustin said, offended. “Mick couldn’t help it he was heavy. And the toilet seats were probably weak; he didn’t break them because of his weight, did you, Mick?”

Groaning, Mick just wanted to eat. “Can we just enjoy one of the last warm days before it gets cold? Please? And eat.”

“I fuckin’ hate Indian summer. Get cold. Stay warm. But make up its goddamn mind,” Rose bitched.

Getting ready to close his eyes in one of those ‘God get me out of this’ moments, Mick saw Dylan solemnly get up and go inside. “Excuse me.” He wiped his mouth and stood.

Dylan wasn’t doing much but staring at the coffee spot on the counter by the sink. She jumped a little when she heard the screen porch door shut. She turned around.

“You OK?” Mick asked.

“Oh, yeah. Fine.” Dylan smiled. “I was getting some soda. We didn’t have any on the table.”

“And you’re fine?” Mick took a step to her. “I didn’t say something to upset you?”

“No, not at all. Go on, I’ll be right back out.” Dylan watched him, but as soon as he reached for the door, she called out. “Mick?”

Mick turned around. “Yeah?”

“Did you....did you ever notice how good you are with the boys?”

The corner of Mick’s mouth raised with a smile. “I should hope I’m good with the boys, I’ve been around them all their lives.”

“I’m talking natural. It’s nice they have that with you.”

“Thanks. It’s nice to hear
that
from you.” Mick tried for the door again.

“Mick, before you go,” Dylan spoke up. “I just...I just want you to know. When I look at you, when I see you with my sons, I really do see my future. I’m gonna grow old with you, Mick Owens.”

He was going to leave, but he didn’t. How could he? Mick walked right up to Dylan, slipped his hand behind her neck, and kissed her. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

After a smile, Mick kissed her quickly and walked back to the door. “See ya outside.”

Rose looked up when she heard the thump of Mick’s heavy steps on the porch. “She all right?” Rose asked.

“Yeah.” Mick took his spot at the table. “Cramps.” He enjoyed the cringes that came from the boys. “Hey, guys, I wanna ask you something real fast before your mom comes back out.” He waited until he had their attention. “Answer me honestly, okay? No holding back. How would you guys feel if I asked your mom to marry me?”

“Good fuckin’ Lord, Mick,” Rose snapped. “Could your timing be any worse? It’s not a good time.”

Dustin lifted his hand with a smile. “No, Mrs. Owens, it’s fine.” He smiled at Mick. “I’m fine with it. Mick’s been around a real long time. It would be nice. Real nice.”

Mick felt relieved to hear that. Of course, he’d expected no backlash from Dustin. He looked to his right. “Tigger?”

Tigger shrugged. “It’s fine.”

After a nod, Mick turned to Chris. “Chris?”

“Well,” Chris exhaled, “I’m fine with it, too. But, you know Mom has never had a husband stay with her the entire time. Not that she had all that many, she only had my dad, but he was always leaving and hurting her. You aren’t gonna leave my mom when you get mad, are you, Mick?”

Dustin jumped in before Mick could. “What the heck is wrong with you? Of course he’s not gonna up and leave Mom. He didn’t leave her over the lesbian thing did he? No. And Mick isn’t gonna take a hike when things get rough…are you, Mick?”

Getting ready to do his stock groan, Mick stopped when his radio hissed.

“Chief Owens, come in.”

Mick picked up his radio. “Yeah, this is Mick. Go on.”

“Sir, you’re gonna have to come down to the main check in. We...we got a couple of live ones here and they’re insisting on speaking with the law.”

“I’m on my way.” Mick stood up, hooking his radio to his belt. “I’ll be back.” Turning to leave, he saw Dylan.

“What’s going on?” Dylan asked.

“Check this out. We have people at the front wanting in.”

Dylan stared for a moment. “It’s been so long. Maybe it’s a sign, Mick. Maybe it’s a sign that all the world didn’t go to hell.”

Mick darted a kiss to her cheek. “Maybe it is.”

* * *

Suits?
Mick couldn’t believe it as he dismounted his bike. The arrivals were wearing suits? Pulling on his surgical mask, Mick grabbed his rifle and walked near the check-in point. He kept his distance. “What’s the problem?”

Sergeant Dion rolled his eyes as he merely pointed to Jeff and Darrell and their cat.

“May I help you gentlemen?” Mick asked.

“Hey! You’re the Harley Cavalry!” Jeff said in recognition. “No wonder you’re running things here.”

“What?” Mick asked, confused.

“The Harley Cavalry. Six weeks ago, some other Ohio town. A kid held up in a store,” Jeff explained. “We were there.” Fumbling with the cat, Jeff reached into his pocket. “We’re FBI agents.”

Mick nodded. “And why are you here in Lodi?”

“To get Rodriguez.”

Mick froze as he stared at them. “Are you fuckin’ shitting me? You’re here to pick up Rodriguez?”

“Yep,” Darrell answered. “You have him under arrest, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Mick fluttered his lips. “I have him under arrest. Did you two happen to notice what’s been going on out there in the world?”

“Things are slow,” Jeff replied.

Mick refrained from uttering ‘no shit’. “And with all that happened you still want to pick him up?”

“Yes,” Jeff told him. “Can we come in?”

“What are you, assholes?” Mick snapped. “I’m not letting you in here. If you feel like setting your bodies in a quarantine trailer for seventy-two hours, after that wait, if all is fine, then you can come in. As for now... that’s all, gentlemen.” Mick turned and walked away.

Sgt. Dion shrugged at Jeff and Darrell, then pointed. “Third trailer is empty.”

Jeff looked at Darrell. “I guess we’ll wait. We’ve waited this long.”

“True.” Darrell spotted the line of trailers. “Let’s go to that trailer. I’m really beat.”

“Me, too. Long trip.” Jeff followed. “My body is aching.”

“I know what you mean. Hey, was it me, or did that chief seem a little testy to you?”

Jeff shrugged as they reached the trailer. “He was a bit testy. But wouldn’t you be? He’s been detaining Rodriguez for so long, he has to be frustrated knowing he can finally get rid of him and has to wait three more days.” Extending his hand for the door, Jeff stopped to sneeze; his body shook violently. “I’m tired of doing that. My head hurts.” He peered down to the sleeping animal in his arms. “Damn cat.”

* * *

Mick had hid it in the tiny freezer compartment of the station’s beverage cooler. Besides wanting to take a walk that evening, he wanted to retrieve that treat. Figuring he’d enjoy that huge ice cream bar on his way back to Dylan’s house, he waited until he was out of the station to unwrap it.

Tearing the bottom portion of the wrapper, Mick looked up as Patrick called his name.

“Mick.” Patrick jogged his way. “I thought people would be setting up for the festival.”

Mick peered at his watch. “It’s midnight. What the hell do you think this is, New York?” He continued to walk.

“Hungry for ice cream?” Patrick asked.

“Yeah. I have this thing about having ice cream after...after....” Mick ripped open the package. “After a long day. So I thought I’d walk and enjoy it.” He smiled. “What brings you out?”

“Well, aside from thinking I would help with the festival setup, I needed to think.”

“Yes, you do,” Mick said snidely. “Oh...” he paused in the middle of his stride, “I hear you had a date with....Eunice Bender.”

Patrick froze. His face cringed. “That’s...that’s one of the things I am thinking about.”

“Strongly attracted to her?”

“Oh my God, Mick. I’m killing Tom over this. I really need someone to help me out here. You have a minute? This is something I can’t tell Lars about.”

Lars unexpectedly walked up behind him. “What can’t you tell me about?”

Like a child, Patrick spun around. “Nothing.”

“Oh, come on. Tell me,” Lars nudged. “Maybe my years of life experience can help.”

Mick bobbed his head as he pulled the ice cream bar from the wrapper. “He has a point. He
is
Lars Rayburn.”

“OK.” Patrick nodded then motioned his hand to the stairs of Tom’s video store. “Let’s sit.”

Lars raised his eyebrows. “A sitting talk. This will be good.” He took a seat next to Patrick on the top step.

“Shoot.” Mick sat on the last step.

“All right, you know I had this date with Eunice, right?” Patrick closed his eyes. “I’m in trouble. I don’t know what to do.”

“Go on. Tom fixed you up with her…” Mick took a bite of his ice cream.

Patrick shuddered with chills. “I can’t believe you just bit that bar.”

“Tell the damn story!” Mick snapped.

“I’m killing Tom,” Patrick hurried and looked at a snickering Lars. “What?”

“Nothing,” Lars giggled. “I know where this is going. Go on.”

Letting out a breath, Patrick continued, “I figured, what the hell, it’s someone to hang out with for an evening, so I go on this date. She makes pasta, which was good, we watch the movie and talk very little.”

Mick took another bite of his bar. “Where’s the problem? Everything sounded fine.”

“Here’s the problem,” Patrick said. “I figure, movie over, time to go. I say thanks, stand up, and walk to the door. She says....” Patrick’s voice grew nervous, “she says ‘what about a little goodnight kiss’?” He shrugged. “I think, one to the cheek. Okay. I pucker up...and she drops.”

“Drops?” Mick asked.

“Drops. To her knees. Zip.”

Mick choked.

Lars laughed.

“This isn’t funny,” Patrick said, seriously. “I didn’t know what to do. I tried to stop her, but, she proceeds to immediately, despite me trying to pull her from me, she grabs me and goes to town.”

Holding up his ice cream bar, Mick looked up to Patrick. “Let me get this straight. You want to leave. She wanted a kiss and instead she starts to....”