“Two hours? That’s all?”
“That’s all I can afford, sweetheart.” Quickly he lifted his head, kissed her on the cheek, and rolled onto his stomach. He groaned his exhaustion. “I have to be awake and ready for when all hell breaks loose around here.”
As if she weren’t fully paying attention, Dylan nodded her understanding. Then the meaning of his words hit her. “Wait.” Her eyes widened. “Mick? What hell is gonna break loose?” She didn’t get an answer. “Mick?” She tapped his shoulder.
His response was a heavy exhalation. His head buried deeply into the pillow, Mick was sound asleep.
While the other Lodi residents probably would have basked in it, Patrick found not one second of pleasure in seeing two of Lars Rayburn. His eyes were heavy, they started to burn, and the bright fluorescent gymnasium lights didn’t help his situation.
“Lars,” Patrick whined wearily. “I have to stop. Can I?” he asked as he capped a filled syringe and set it in a box with others.
“I think it’s a good idea,” Lars stated. “We can get a few hours’ rest and finish up before we deliver the serums.”
“What’s the count?”
“Including what you just did…” Lars did a visual count of the box then looked at the other boxes. “We need five hundred and twenty-three more.”
“Wow. We did almost three thousand.”
“Hard to believe. Long night.”
Patrick looked at his watch. “What time do you want me back here?”
“How about eight-thirty? We’ll finish up and be ready to distribute these by noon.”
“Sounds good.” After he stood up, Patrick extended his arms, arched his back and stretched. As he relaxed, he felt Lars grab his arm. “What’s wrong?”
Holding up a syringe, Lars smiled. “We hit Mick before he went. Your turn. Don’t want you getting lost in the shuffle.” He grabbed a prepackaged alcohol wipe and opened it. “Now be a big boy.” Lars wiped off a small area of Patrick’s arm. “Just a pinch.”
“Do I get a sucker?”
Lars snickered and plunged the syringe into Patrick’s flesh.
“It burns,” Patrick complained.
“Does not.” Lars tossed the used needle into the biohazard sharps container. “Shall we go home for some rest before the crowd gathers?”
“Absolutely.” Patrick rubbed his arm.
“I appreciate your help.”
“You say that now.”
“You’ll be my star pupil. Wait until you start learning venipuncture.”
“What’s that?” Patrick asked.
“Taking people’s blood.”
“There is a bright side.” Patrick smiled as they walked across the gym.
“Let’s hope the residents are as congenial as you and Mick about the vaccines.”
“I don’t see why not. They’ll listen to you, you are Lars Rayburn.” Patrick stopped walking. “You’re like this legend around here.”
Almost with a blush, Lars nodded.
“Why?” Patrick questioned.
“It’s really ridiculous.”
“It can’t be that ridiculous if they made the summer festival into the fall festival just so they could have you here.”
Lars snickered. “That was an honor.”
“So why? Why are you a legend to these people?”
“Well, you see, about…” Lars stopped talking and held up his hand when his cell phone rang. “Have to get this. Only Henry and Kurt have this number.” Lifting the cell phone, Lars played with it until he got it to stop ringing. “Hello?”
Patrick watched Lars’ face as Lars listened and nodded.
“Just a moment, Henry.” Lars covered the phone and looked to Patrick. “You go on and rest. Find me if I’m not back here in a few hours. I must take this call.”
Patrick nodded as Lars walked off, speaking into the phone about some papers that could help. Patrick didn’t have a clue what Lars was talking about, but he realized that, with his luck, he stood a better chance of finding out what that phone call was about than he ever did of finding out why Lars Rayburn was such a legend.
Reston, Virginia
“My father would be proud of me right now,” Henry said as he removed the rubber tourniquet from Kurt’s arm. “Very proud.” He watched the tube fill with blood. “You should have heard him complain when I gave up my practice.” Henry removed the full tube and placed a piece of cotton on Kurt’s arm. “Can you hold that?”
Kurt lifted his other arm slowly and rested his fingers on the cotton.
“Thanks.” Henry looked at the tube of blood. “Better get well, or at least well enough to do the same for me.” Henry saw the worried look on Kurt’s face. “No, not yet. I’m not sick. But just in case.” He walked across the lab with the tube. “So, as I was saying, I started a practice many years ago. A patient, Mr. Winston,” Henry smiled, “spoke to me about working here as director. At the time, the pay was good, the hours short. Malpractice insurance wasn’t making me broke, and… I didn’t have to deal with sick people.” He snickered. “Look at me now. I’ve been working for days, washing up in the men’s room, and dealing with an entire world that’s sick.” He found the pot of coffee and poured a cup.
“Plan?” Kurt asked weakly.
“Oh, yes.” Henry took his cup back over to his seat. “I came up with a plan. Lars loved it. We’re just waiting now for approval. What it is,” Henry settled into his chair, “is a way to help Chief Michael Owens of Lodi, a back-up of sorts.”
“Why?”
“Why not?” Henry lifted a hand. “Imagine that the earth is a battleground. Which it actually is right now, beaten, burned. If we can just preserve one spot, leave one speck untouched, then we’ve won.” His head turned quickly as the phone rang. “That’s either Utah with their stats or the call I’ve been waiting for.” Hurriedly, Henry hurriedly reached for the phone. “Yes.” He listened and nodded. “Thank you.” The phone did not leave his hand; he merely disconnected the call and began to dial.
Kurt watched this. “Who are you calling?”
“Approval’s come through. If Chief Owens can hold out for three days, this little plan of his might work. But there’s no reason why he can’t initiate things on his end.” Henry lifted a finger to Kurt when the call was connected. “Um… yes, this is Dr. Henry Davis from the Barrow flu dispatch center. I need to speak to Chief Owens, please.”
Lodi, Ohio
Mick was filled with satisfaction as he carried the cardboard sign up the sidewalk to Tom and Marian’s house. It looked peaceful and quiet, but that perception was disrupted when the front door opened and Tom emerged with two suitcases.
Tom set them on the porch, looked at Mick, and went back inside.
“Tom,” Mick called out and picked up his pace. He didn’t stop to knock; he just walked in. “Tom.”
“Morning, Michael.” Marian smiled then patted him on the cheek and set down a flowered duffle bag.
“What the hell’s going on?” Mick looked at the luggage. “Marian?”
Marian only smiled before exhaling. Saying nothing, she turned and headed to the stairs.
“OK,” Mick spoke to himself. “No one is speaking to me.” He spotted Tom in the kitchen. “Tom.” Mick marched that way. He froze when he saw Tom placing food in a box. “Tom, what is going on?”
“What’s it look like?”
“You’re packing.”
“Aren’t you an Einstein?” Tom quipped. “Had to be that quick wit that got you the chief job, lord knows the size of your balls didn’t land it for you.”
“Ex… excuse me?” Mick was confused. “My balls?”