***
While sitting at the computer, Alex detected unusual movement down the street. He didn’t have a good view from the southeast corner of the house, so he grabbed his binoculars and ran upstairs to the master bedroom, nearly knocking Kate over as she emerged from the bathroom. With the binoculars, he saw James Thompson push a stroller, with another small child in tow, right up to the McCarthys’ house, and then return by himself. A few minutes later, both he and his wife, Mary, left in their Toyota Sienna. Alex assumed that their third child was in the van with them. Judging from the stroller, he figured it had to be either Emily or Madison, since their baby had to be in the stroller.
The Thompsons’ departure made sense, given the information that had been shared with him yesterday by Ed. Sarah Quinn continued to collect, verify, and pass along information to the neighborhood regarding suspected or confirmed illnesses. Her latest download to Ed hadn’t surprised Alex.
According to Sarah, Mary Thompson had been fighting flu-like symptoms for a few days, and based on what he had just seen, one of their children was likely sick also. They were probably on their way to see a doctor. He highlighted Mary’s name in yellow and randomly selected Emily, age three, for the other highlight. He found it interesting that Mary and James would take their children to the McCarthys’, despite persistent rumors that Jennifer McCarthy and at least one of her children was also sick with flu-like symptoms.
Sarah Quinn knew this because four days before, Jennifer had asked her for two of the anti-viral treatment courses that Sarah held for the neighborhood. Jennifer refused to give Sarah any details, but insisted that they needed the anti-virals immediately. According to Sarah, she didn’t sound good over the phone, and Michael McCarthy picked up the drugs from Sarah just minutes after the phone call. She should have asked for five, one for each member of the family, but Alex was certain that neither Michael nor Jennifer had invested any time into researching effective pandemic anti-viral treatment strategies. Then again, it was unlikely that Sarah would have given her five courses of treatment without more information. This transaction had left eleven courses of treatment for the neighborhood, which didn’t last long, according to Sarah.
Owing to her close friendship with Nicki Bartlett, she also knew that Nicki and two of her children were sick with high fevers, muscle aches, and worsening coughs. Nicki and her kids had been sick since the weekend, and Sarah gave them three courses of anti-viral therapy, bringing the remaining total to eight.
Nicki’s husband, Jack, an endocrinologist, insisted that they could be adequately treated at home, under his care. Apparently, he had access to medical supplies from the diabetes center, though Alex couldn’t imagine that the center had any antibiotics left in their drug sample closet, which would be critical for treating flu-induced pneumonia. Few companies made antibiotics any more, and the only antibiotic Alex had managed to sparingly find in drug closets over the past few years was Levaquin.
Logically, since the Bartletts’ had been hit with the flu, he wasn’t surprised to learn that both the Bishops’ and the Greens’ had been hit as well. Sarah had delivered four courses of antiviral therapy to the Bishops on Tuesday after Stephanie called to tell Sarah that her entire family had developed flu symptoms simultaneously on Monday morning.
All of their children had been closely intertwined since school was cancelled, and the McDaniel girls stayed among the Bartletts’ and Bishops’ for several days, nearly guaranteeing that the flu would be spread. Sarah asked about Jamie’s girls, and Stephanie said that Katherine was still sick, but didn’t seem to be getting any worse, and that Amanda had no symptoms at all. After delivering drugs to both the Bartletts and Bishops, Sarah was left with only four remaining treatments. Two of those went to the Greens, and the remaining two to the Burtons, who each reported two possible cases of the flu in their households.
Within the span of a week and a half, all of the anti-virals were gone, and as far as Alex knew, the only remaining anti-virals in the neighborhood sat in his basement and somewhere within Ed’s house. Alex had given Ed enough for his family nearly a year ago.
Sarah heard from Jennifer McCarthy that Ken Hayes might be sick. Michelle stopped sending her kids over to the McCarthys’ on the same day that Jennifer McCarthy called Sarah to ask for anti-virals. She told Jennifer that they had decided to stay home from work for a few weeks, and that nearly everyone in her husband’s office was sick. Jennifer wondered if one of the Hayes’ kids had brought the virus into their house. He highlighted Ken Hayes on the chart.
The last piece of news from Ed hit Alex the hardest because he knew it meant trouble. Todd Perry’s wife was sick and had been refused treatment at Maine Medical Center. She was given a basic home treatment kit, with no prescription medications, only basic pain and fever relief medications. Worse yet, she had brought her nine-year-old son, Michael, who was also suffering from escalating flu symptoms, and he received the same kit. Both of them were turned away without explanation. Alex expected a knock on his door at any time from Todd, right after he knocked on Sarah’s door to get some of the promised anti-virals, only to be told that Alex’s original promise of twenty courses had materialized as thirteen.
He ensured that all of the highlights on the diagram were up to date and then folded the poster board in half. He sat back on the couch and exhaled deeply.
“Done with arts and crafts hour?” Kate quipped.
“Pretty much. You want to check out the updates?”
“Can you just summarize them for me?” she asked, continuing to focus on her book.
“I saw James deliver two of his kids over to the McCarthys’ house about thirty minutes ago, then take off with his wife and one of the kids in the minivan.”
Kate looked up from her book with a puzzled look. “Isn’t Jennifer McCarthy and at least one other person in that house sick?”
“Based on my intel, I assume that’s the case.”
“What is wrong with these people? Why would she send her kids over there? I saw Mary outside yesterday in the backyard playing with the dog. Why couldn’t she drive by herself?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she got worse and can’t drive. Either way, I’m surprised Jennifer agreed to watch the kids. None of it makes much sense.”
“Oh, I had meant to ask you earlier, but I forgot. Did the Carters leave town? I haven’t seen anything going on at their house since last week, and Kelso hasn’t greeted me on any of my recent walks,” she said, sounding more disappointed about not seeing the dog than the Carters.
“You mean Kelso hasn’t been rummaging around inside our house for the past few weeks?”
“Yeah, well, that’s unusual too,” she responded.
“I really don’t know, but I think you’re right. I circled their house on the board and put a big question mark next to it for the same reasons you mentioned. Ed hasn’t heard anything, so maybe they scooted out of town at night,” he surmised.
“Well, if Ed doesn’t know, then nobody knows.” She lowered her eyes back to her book.
“Maybe if I had an extra set of eyes on the neighborhood, we’d catch things like this.”
“Nice try. Besides, you’re doing a fantastic job right now, and it’s keeping you busy. You should consider staking out another window, like maybe the one up in the attic. Hey, who knows what you might see from a higher vantage point? Didn’t they teach you that in the Marine Corps?”
“Among other things. Like when someone was trying to get rid of you,” he said, picking up the poster board.
“Was I that obvious?” Kate asked.
“Oh no. Not at all.” He leaned over and kissed Kate on the forehead. “To the high ground,” he said and walked toward the stairs.
***
Alex emerged from the mudroom and set the phone down on the kitchen island. He walked over to the kitchen table and sat down without saying a word. Kate and the kids had already started to eat what had become a typical meal for the Fletchers since they’d
exhausted most of their supply of perishable foods.
On a dark blue placemat in the middle of the table sat a bowl of seasoned pinto beans next to a small sauce pan filled with watery green beans. An open pressure cooker filled with a mixture of brown rice and barley sat on a separate placemat next to the beans.
The kids each had a glass of water in front of them, and a half-drained bottle of Syrah sat off to the side of the food. Alex served himself, still silent, as Kate eyed him nervously.
“They can’t seem to resist calling us right before dinner,” she said.
“Yeah,” he said, still not committing to a conversation. He saw her glance at the kids, who seemed oblivious to the tension.
“How are your parents holding out?” she asked.
Alex took a deep breath and feigned a smile, not wanting to upset the kids. “They’re doing fine I suppose. They claim to be healthy, which I believe. If one of them gets a splinter, I usually hear every detail.”
Ryan did his best to generate a laugh, and even Emily muffled a snort, which let Alex know that the kids were better tuned in to his mood than he anticipated.
“How about your brother?” Kate asked, and he quickly shook his head, hoping the kids didn’t see him do it.
“Sounds like they’re doing fine, too,” he replied, staring at her with a serious face and shaking his head imperceptibly once again. He glanced at Emily and Ryan, who seemed too preoccupied with eating to have caught his wave off. Alex was amazed at how well they ate at meals, now that snacks were more or less a thing of the past. Two months ago, the two of them would have stared at this dinner in disbelief.
Kate received his message and didn’t pursue any more questions. Alex had just found out from his parents that his brother Daniel was hospitalized with a mild concussion and advanced stage pneumonia. Apparently, he had been spared acute respiratory distress syndrome, but continued to drive to work despite worsening flu symptoms. He never made it to work today. At some point during the drive, he lost control of his Land Rover and plowed into a guardrail on Interstate 25, nearly jumping it. Rushed to a hospital near Castle Rock, he was treated for minor acute injuries and admitted to the ICU for flu-related pneumonia.
That wasn’t the worst news. His nephew Ethan was sick with the flu. Alex thought about Daniel and about how he probably walked through the house, oblivious to the fact that he was getting sicker and sicker with a killer flu.
Even better, Karla couldn’t find the anti-virals he’d sent them a few years ago, so his parents were sacrificing theirs to give to both kids. He really wished his parents had taken him up on the offer to bring the kids out to Maine. They ate the rest of their meal in an awkward silence, punctuated by several unsuccessful attempts to jar Alex out of his gloomy mood.
***
Alex sat in his office scanning the Boston Globe website, focusing on a late-breaking story about riots breaking out in Dorchester and East Boston.
“For the third day in a row, major food stores throughout the greater Boston metropolitan area have remained closed, blaming a supply chain failure that has affected most of northern New England. Food shipments have been erratic at best for the past week, stopping altogether in areas like Dorchester, Roxbury, East Boston and Jamaica Plain. Fires and looting broke out midday as residents in these beleaguered areas, already pressed for critical supplies, learned that food stores would not open for the third day in a row.”
He skipped down further.
“City and state officials have augmented National Guard and law enforcement presence in these areas, anticipating a worsening of the situation. One anonymous state official stated that the food and supply situation was not likely to improve, as absenteeism and flu rates continue to soar.
“Several residents interviewed said that they would soon leave the Boston metropolitan area in search of less populated areas where the food supply chain was more stable, like the upper New England states.”
Alex leaned back into his chair and looked outside into their quiet neighborhood. The pretty, well cared for colonial homes were a stone’s throw from the city of Portland and the Atlantic Ocean. Most of the people in the idyllic neighborhood were innocently unprepared for an onslaught of desperate, hungry people from the rough suburbs of Boston. Alex knew the cozy, safe, insulated life everyone on the street coveted, was about to come to an end.
Kate walked into the office, startling him.
“Did you see what’s happening in Boston?” she asked, walking up to him.
“It won’t be long before people start to riot up here,” he said, swiveling the chair to face her.
“I don’t think there are enough people in Maine for a riot of any type. You’ve seen the anti-whatever rallies in Monument Square. Fifteen, maybe twenty people, even on the weekend. The biggest riot we’ve ever had here had something to do with American Idol tickets several years back.”
“That’s right. It was like the Cabbage Patch frenzy of the 80s all over again. Remember that? Moms and dads slugging it out for a place in line to get those stupid Idol tickets. And I thought fighting over dolls was crazy,” he said.
“Hey, I’m sure Ethan will be fine,” Kate attempted to reassure him.
“I hope so. I really do,” he said, grabbing her hands.
“Look at Jamie’s kids. They’re still sick, but they seem to be doing fine. They got anti-virals early and it made a big difference. The same thing will happen with our nephews.”
“If Karla doesn’t steal them for herself. She’s planning to drive the kids north to stay in a hotel while Daniel recovers, so they can be close to him. Clueless. I bet Daniel asked her to come. What does she think they’re gonna eat while they’re in the hotel? Take-out pizza? Thai delivery? The woman is dumber than a box of rocks, and she’s going to drive them out there without enough gas to get back, just to watch Daniel expire. Gas delivery is already highly sporadic. Won’t be long before that’s gone too.”
Alex stopped ranting and put both of his hands on his head, grabbing his thick black hair. “What is wrong with these people?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they don’t feel like they have a choice.”
“Choice to do what?” he asked, exasperated.
“To quit their jobs. To cash in their life savings to buy food. To stay away from their friends and family. We’ve been lucky so far. Nobody sick has appeared at our door with one of the dozens of golden tickets you’ve handed out.”
“You handed a few out yourself,” he responded.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. But we haven’t been pressed by family or friends to compromise our quarantine. Would you be able to turn away your parents if they suddenly arrived at our steps? Sick?” she asked.
“I don’t know how I’d handle it, but I can tell you one thing. They wouldn’t be sitting at the dinner table with our kids. I’d be applying every piece of information available to figure out the situation. The internet still works. It’s not like I paid anyone for this knowledge. You just type ‘home quarantine procedures’ and bingo. How about your parents? They’re still fine, right?” he asked, changing the subject.
“I suppose. My brother, Liz and the girls are with them right now. They’re all still healthy. It sounds like my brother has been paying more attention to us than I thought. Mom said he showed up with all kinds of survival gear and has been pretty much running the show over there. She said that the food was tight, but they should be fine.
“Claire still hasn’t shown up, which worries me more than anything. I tried to call her the other day, but the machine picked up at the house, and I got the voicemail on her cell phone. She won’t answer because she knows I’m going to try and talk her out of crashing at my parents’. She’ll push her way right into that house, sick or not, and try to take over. Luckily, Robbie has never taken any of her nonsense, so I’m hoping he’ll do what’s necessary to keep them all safe.”
“I’m more concerned about Claire making the trip up here. She’s no dummy.
I could see her bypassing your parents for a safer haven up in Scarborough, Maine. It’s only a nine-hour drive. One and a half tanks of gas, unless they bring the Suburban,” he said, smiling.
“Thanks. Are you trying to sabotage my sleep tonight?” She squeezed his hands.
“Sorry, you’re right. Don’t worry about it, she probably won’t come up here. Let’s get to bed, I’m exhausted.”
Holding hands, Kate and Alex headed out of the office. The phone rang and he hesitated. 9:30 p.m. was a strange time for a phone call.
“Don’t worry about it. Whoever it is can leave a message.”
“Uh…hold on a second. I just want to see who it is,” he said, scurrying back into the office. The phone kept ringing.
“Alright, I’m going to bed.”
The caller ID read “Walker, Edward.” Alex picked up. “Hey, Ed.”
“There’s going to be another neighborhood meeting tomorrow at Sarah Quinn’s house to discuss the matter of neighborhood security. Everyone is pretty worried about the rioting in Boston and the possible flow of refugees into Maine. Sarah heard that there was a group going around looking for armed volunteers to man a roadblock at the Piscataqua Bridge to keep people from fleeing up into Maine.”
“That’s nothing new, Ed. Mainer’s have wanted to do that for decades. They tried to stop Kate and me when we drove out here from San Diego, but we just told them that we were here to do some shopping in Kittery and then to hit Bean’s.” Alex laughed.
“They should have checked your ID a little closer and saved us all some trouble,” Ed said.
“True. So what time does this little party start?”
“Ten in the morning at the Quinns’.”
THE ALEX FLETCHER BOXSET: Books 1-5 Page 17