“Thanks.” Darrell quickly tried it on, then after removing it looked back at the television. He chuckled.
“What are you watching?”
“Cartoons,” Darrell answered.
“Not the news?”
“Nah. It’s all the same stuff. A bunch of experts saying this, saying that. After I talked to the Captain, I figured why bother watching the news? The only thing entertaining is the stupid intros they do after each commercial break.”
“True. So… what did the Captain say?” Jeff asked.
“We’re stuck. CDC told him that for three weeks Los Angeles is closed. I don’t mind hanging out for three weeks.”
“Me either.” Jeff pointed to the box. “We got supplies and we really don’t have to go out and take a chance of getting this thing.”
“Hibernation and little exposure is best.”
“Things could get sticky though.” Jeff sat on the bottom of the bed. “I mean, if everyone is trapped in Los Angeles for weeks, who knows what will happen? People will go nuts.”
“Not if they’re too sick, they won’t.”
“True,” Jeff agreed.
“I did hear there’s rioting in East LA.”
“There’s always rioting in East LA.”
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.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
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.