“Jonah?” Jon said as he stepped into the room.
Briggs held up his hand to the boys and stood. “What’s up?”
“Erie guys are back and said they really need to speak to you.” Jon said. “And…” he shifted his eyes. “There’s this really big biker looking guy here saying he wants his kids.”
Before Briggs could question, before anything came from his mouth, a loud shriek from both Chris and Tigger rang out as they shouted “Mick!”
They jumped to their feet and as they did, Mick rushed into the room, passed Jon and Briggs and didn’t make it two feet before he was blasted bodily by the boys.
Mick dropped to his knees and took both boys into his arms. “Oh my God,” he said, his voice gravelly with emotion. He held them tight, wanting to just absorb them into his body, being and soul. He could barely breathe his chest felt so full. His throat closed and tensed, making it even harder to talk. There he was, holding them, feeling them, when he thought he had lost them. “Oh my God, I am so glad to see you boys. I was scared I’d never see you again. So scared.”
His hand grasped the back of Chris’ head and his other arm had Tigger tight to him. He kissed Chris, then Tigger, then repeated kissing them again. “Thank God. Thank God.”
“I… can’t… breathe,” Tigger gasped. “You’re strangling… me.”
Mick laughed and released his hold. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s good to see you too, Mick.” Chris grinned. “Boy we missed you.”
“And I missed that.” Mick touched Chris’ smile. “I was so worried.” He kissed Chris again then turned to Tigger. “And you.” He put both his hands to Tigger’s face, and plastered him with kisses.
Tigger accepted the kisses, but not for long. He crinkled his face, shook his head and said. “Enough please.”
“Sorry.” Mick sniffed and ran the back of his hand under his nose.
“You okay, Mick?” Chris asked.
Mick nodded.
“You crying, Mick?” Tigger asked. “We’re okay, we aren’t hurt. We’re good. Why are you crying?”
Chris gave a light backhand to Tigger. “Knock it off, he ain’t crying. You can’t be saying Mick’s crying. Not in front of…” He motioned his head upward.
In the midst of the reunion, Mick didn’t see or notice the other man in the room. How he missed him, he didn’t know. Mick stood up and extended his hand. “Mick Owens.”
“I figured as much,” Briggs shook his hand. “Jonah Briggs.”
“Thank you.” Mick held firm to his hand for another moment. “Thank you so much for taking care of them. For finding them.”
Briggs shook his head. “They found me.”
Tigger added. “Chris hit him with the car.”
“What?” Mick looked down to Chris.
Nonchalantly, Chris waved his hand. “It was not real bad. I was driving and I hit him. He’s okay, though. See? He don’t go down easily. Not that if you guys were to square off that he wouldn’t go down.”
Mick looked to Briggs. “He really hit you?”
“Yeah, but it was my fault,” Briggs replied. “I was standing in the road. Your boys speak often and very highly of you.”
Mick looked at Chris and Tigger. “They’re my world.”
“And you’re theirs,” Briggs said. “Well, if you’ll excuse me. You must be hungry and thirsty. Help yourself. I need to talk to Wentworth and I’ll be right back.” He shook Mick’s hand again. “Glad you guys are reunited. Chris, show him where the food is.”
“Yes, sir, Jonah Briggs.” Chris lifted his hand as Briggs left. He rambled on to Mick in typical Chris fashion. “He’s a nice guy, Mick. Didn’t hurt us, yell or anything. Been real good to us. Fed us, got us clean. I’m not joining the army or anything, I’m dressed like this cause that’s all he had. My clothes smelled ‘cause Tigger kept peeing his pants.”
“I didn’t pee my pants, Mick. I missed,” Tigger argued.
“It’s fine, Tig. I’m just so glad you guys are okay. That this guy had you.”
“Say, Mick?” Chris said coyly. “He’s almost as big as you.”
“Okay…” Mick was curious. “Why is that important?”
“Do you think, not now, but maybe some time in the future, not too far in the future, but some time before both of you guys get too old, that you can maybe bring back wrestling against each other for one match?” Chris cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe?”
Mick opened his mouth to speak. What would he say? His heart was full and his head was spinning far too much to playfully give Chris a hard time. He was still absorbing the gratefulness over the fact that the boys were right there. Mick smiled, murmured a passive, “Maybe”, and grabbed onto the boys, bringing them into him one more time.
15. Dark
Lodi, Ohio
Henry grew restless and a bit agitated over the fact that he had tried to reach the President of the United States. He felt like a pain in the rear for as many times as he called. But he knew the phone lines had to be up or the president’s line wouldn’t ring.
He was positive it was a cell phone, because the president had previously told him he wasn’t getting a signal in the bunker. Last Henry had heard, they had since moved topside and the President, Secretary of State, Assistant Director of Homeland Security and a general from Washington were working on restructuring.
That was October 3rd.
The flu had been declared over everywhere but Lodi, and perhaps a few little towns. Two weeks had passed and still no word.
Well, nothing from the government.
Finally, Henry broke down and in his frustration sent a text: This is ridiculous. If you aren’t dead, call us now.
“Really?” Kurt asked with a laugh when Henry told him. “Very teenage of you.”
Henry grumbled. “I’m not used to the government shit. You’re the one who was government.”
“Isn’t that funny, though?” Kurt said. “I was head of the CDC and people still think you were the one.”
“That’s because I ran the epi center when you guys toppled.”
“I was there.”
“You were, the whole time,” Henry stated. “Now, we have this bastard of a problem.” He rubbed his chin. “And we can’t start to tackle it or come up with a plan until we get all the facts from Lexi and a course of action. Meaning, we have to speak to the president to find out what he has in the works.”
Kurt tsked. “Nothing.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You have wayward groups of men burning out towns, wiping out warehouses and blocking themselves into Erie, I’m betting with our missing men from the food run. You have some new force calling themselves the United Army of America—”
“Something like that, but close.”
“They have every on the board militia group hooked up, linked up and working together, as Nelson said. With a lot of reserve soldiers and active duty. The president has little, if anything, to work with. Maybe he needs to work with what’s out there.”
“Or maybe he is and is busy, that is why he hasn’t called,” Henry suggested.
“You believe that?”
Henry tightly closed his mouth and widened his eyes to Kurt. The bleep of his phone caused him to look down. “You have to be goddamn kidding me.”
“What?”
“He can text, but he can’t call? Now who’s teenage?”
“What’s it say?” Kurt asked.
“Simple, call you in a few.” Henry tossed down the phone. “Really? Really?”
Kurt laughed. “That tells me he has nothing. And it’s time to do what you do best.”
“And that is?” Henry asked.
“Like you did with the flu,” Kurt said. “Take control.”