“Are you sure?” Chris asked. “She has that thermometer in her mouth all the time.”
“And it reads ninety-eight point six. Trust me.” Tired of the topic, Mick reached about the table, physically directing each of the boys’ forks to their food. “Eat. And can we please talk about something else aside from this flu?” He waited for a response. “Please?”
The boys all nodded and bobbed their heads in a debatable response.
“Good.” Mick tried to eat again. “Dustin. Talk about something. Anything, as long as it’s not the flu. You start the meal conversation.”
“Okay.” Dustin thought for a second, his fork tapping his food as he did. “Got it.” He sat up. “When’s the military dropping off those respirator masks we’re supposed to be wearing when we’re out?”
Looking up from his food that he thought he was going to enjoy, Mick raised his eyes and just stared at Dustin.
Reston, Virginia
Somehow, in spite of the nightmare that he faced, in his wildest imagination, never did Henry ever expect his little office in Winston Research to be the country’s viral headquarters.
It didn’t start out that way.
The Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta had handled it until the director took ill two days earlier and forwarded all questions and data Kurt’s way until a replacement was found.
Kurt ended up being the replacement, and Henry his only assistant.
There were no large teams, no multitudes of people running about. Kurt and Henry did it all. They had the help of Joshua until he had to head back to New York because his wife had come down with the flu.
The two men pulled day shifts together during high traffic times, off and on, short naps in between. They had become data collectors and trackers, and they were expected to be great predictors. They said they weren’t, but every one of Henry and Kurt’s predictions eerily held true. Henry claimed it wasn’t a great psychic ability, or an abundance of scientific knowledge that gave them the keen foresight as to what would happen. He merely believed it was the historians in them. It was a repeat of history and a long overdue purging of nature.
The Winston Research office would be considered an archaic set up with no high-tech monitoring boards or abundance of computers. Henry and Kurt were overwhelmed that they were being so heavily relied upon. Requests bombarded them: ‘We need info on this’, ‘Can you send supplies out here’, ‘Can you get through to FEMA, this is important’. Their heads spun, but they both handled it as best as they could, truly believing that at any second the phone would ring and a voice on the end would inform them, “Thanks, gentlemen, good job, we’ll take over from here.”
That phone call never came. They wanted to blame it on the breakdown of the phone systems in the western half of the country. But cellular phones were still operational so out went that theory.
Any thoughts that Henry had that they’d be relieved of command were put to rest after he spoke to the President of the United States.
Possibly it wasn’t the most appropriate response or the most professional, but Henry couldn’t help it when it slipped from his mouth.
“Wow.”
On top of a long table, crouching before a huge paper map of the United States, Kurt finished coloring in the rest of the state of Missouri. “Another news conference?” He capped his permanent black marker and hopped from the table.
“Um, yeah. Last one I’m guessing. For him.” Henry squinted as he moved toward the map. “You finished Missouri. That’s not right.”
“Yes, it is. Last unaffected town reported the flu.”
“Shit.”
“Yep. Now, back to what you were saying…” Kurt pulled out a chair and sat down. “Last news conference?”
“Yeah. He sounds bad,” Henry answered heavily as he too, took a seat. “He’s really sick.” Glancing back at their map, Henry shook his head at the mostly black left half. “You realize we’re hitting the mark.”
“Yes I do,” Kurt nodded sadly. “Every country, every state in the union has reported and confirmed the flu. God, so fast. One day flu-free, the next…” he indicated the map.
“Not really, if you think about it. This thing has been in circulation for two and a half weeks. The two reporters are the only ones that we know of that carried this thing out of Barrow.”
“But this mark has a bright aspect, you have to agree. Three weeks this thing will have run its course. It’ll be done.”
Henry flipped through the papers. “What experts we have left say LA is now at sixty percent. The first week, most of the people who are susceptible will get it. After that, it trickles on until it runs its course.”
“How’s the life versus death figures holding up?”
“Impressively well. I’m gonna predict sixty percent.”
“Never thought I’d see the day when a sixty percent overall fatality rate is considered acceptable.”
“It is when you’re dealing with ninety-five percent in bigger towns. Hopefully the rural areas will offset the high death rate when it’s all said and done.”
Kurt sighed out, “If we bean counters are around to calculate.”
“Someone has to be around to record this for the history books.”
“You think that will be us?”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Henry played with a pencil as he talked. “I don’t think I want to. I hope I can see this thing through. And if, God willing, my health holds up, I’ll stay until the last town and the last person has seen the last of this flu.”
Swiveling his chair, Kurt looked at the map. He focused on the white that remained instead of the black areas filled in. “Maybe there’s still hope.”
“Speaking of hope. You have to get a hold of Lars. It’s going in. Get him ready.”
After a nod, Kurt stood up. “Do you think he’ll do this? Josh didn’t tell us if Lars said yes or no.”
“No, Josh didn’t. But he did tell us about this Lars person. And from what I got from Josh, Lars will do it,” Henry said with certainty. “Because Lars Rayburn hasn’t just been waiting for this outbreak to occur. He’s been expecting it.”
Lodi, Ohio
Lars was a relaxed, ‘go with the flow’ type of person, yet now he felt that every ounce of his reserve patience was gone.
He didn’t leave his house, nor did he even go for his morning walk. He couldn’t. He had to wait. He could take his cell phone with him, but he didn’t want to chance losing the connection.
It was funny to Lars. He never used that cell phone. He flat out didn’t believe in them. The only reason that he owned it was because the cute young woman behind the sales counter had an enticing smile. So, he paid his monthly bill, rarely charged the phone, and didn’t give out the number. He knew so little about that cell phone that not only did he have to look in his secret compartment of his wallet for the number to give to the WHO, he had to call the phone company to find out how to charge the battery.
It was charged. And it wasn’t ringing. He’d set it up so that the phone would be the main link to the command center for the newest viral outbreak.
How many times did he look at the phone to make sure it was on? How many times did he run a test of the ringer, positive that he hadn’t followed the directions correctly? He’d pick it up, put it down, pace, and head back to that phone.
Even though he expected the call he still felt a jolt of surprise when it rang. “About goddamn time.” He pressed a button. “Hello?” The phone still rang. “Shit.” He tried another. “Hello?” Lars breathed out. “Yes. Who is this?” He nodded as he listened. “Where’s Dr. Lincoln?” Lars’ face dropped. “I’m sorry to hear that. Well, sir, what do you have to tell me?” Lars blinked in surprise then grabbed at a notepad. “I see.” He scribbled something down. “Yes. Yes. You have my word, I’ll do my best. Thank you.” He knew the call was over, yet it took a moment of staring at the tiny handheld device to figure out what button it was that he had to push to disconnect the call. After some fumbling around, Lars figured it out. He looked down at the notes he’d taken and focused on his handwriting and the other problem he had to figure out as well.