An Ordinary Epidemic

by Amanda Hickie

  Ella stood her ground, feet firmly planted, certainty on her face. ‘But it’s not inside play now. We don’t have inside play ’til after lunch.’

  ‘What about we have inside play time and then lunch?’

  The determined frown on Ella’s face started to shift to a pout of distress, her eyes reflecting a growing bewilderment. ‘But music time is before lunch.’

  ‘Ella, we’re playing cards now. Music time will have to be later. Be a big girl.’

  ‘Mum, I’m just going to look out the front.’

  ‘Stay here, Zac. You’re not helping.’

  ‘Why don’t I stay here and play cards?’ Sean rubbed her shoulder. ‘I think Zac needs to go out the front.’

  ‘What’s out the front?’ Oscar asked.

  ‘Nothing for little kids.’ Zac snapped at him.

  ‘Mum, Zac’s being mean.’

  ‘Stay here and play cards with Dad.’ She gave Sean a grateful smile. ‘We won’t be long.’

  Zac paced down the hall with determination, Hannah in his wake. Almost at the front door, they heard voices from the street. Zac faltered.

  ‘Monkey, we can go back and play cards.’

  ‘Wouldn’t I be a coward, if I let Gwen be taken away but I wouldn’t watch?’

  ‘You don’t have to be brave.’

  Zac oscillated from front foot to back foot. Hannah led him to the bedroom window. When they stood at the far end, they could see the front third of a bus parked outside Gwen’s. A figure in boilersuit, mask and gloves walked into their line of sight. Gwen came into view, led by her hand like a child. She dropped the space-suited figure’s hand and looked around, bewildered. Her grey hair was unkempt, her skin loose and sallow.

  ‘She doesn’t look well, Monkey.’

  Zac half shook his head.

  Gwen tottered a few uncertain steps as if unsure where she was. Faces peered out of the dusty windows of the bus but the only impression Hannah could form was of blank looks of resignation. Gwen pointed back at her house and said something. She stood, as if waiting for instructions or permission. The spacesuit took her hand again, stroking the back of it, and gently pulled her forward. Gwen climbed the bus stairs with effort. The doors closed with a hiss of air, and the bus rumbled off. Hannah saw a child’s face looking from the back window.

  Zac was grey and shocked. He pulled his face into an expression of resolve. ‘We should go play cards.’

  ‘Do you want to talk about this?’

  ‘Let’s go play cards.’

  Sean’s voice was loud and exaggeratedly cheerful. ‘Two more punters to deal in.’ Zac took a seat, subdued and distracted. ‘The game is Go Fish, Ella’s house rules.’

  Hannah gathered up all the cards and gave them a quick shuffle. She dealt around the circle starting with Ella. The gentle swish of the cards sliding along each other was obliterated by a noise that assaulted her ears. She leapt and fell sideways out of her chair, scared into incomprehension. The screamingly loud, familiar, unexpected, insistent sound of the phone ringing.

  With as much composure as she could summon she picked up the handset and said, ‘Hello.’ A phone call. The phone lines were back which meant the power was back. The internet was back. The computers. The fridge, if they had anything to put in it. The lights, no more shadows to skirt around at night. The outside world was back, talking to her down a long thin strand of copper. ‘I’m sorry, could you say that again?’

  ‘Is this Hannah Halloran?’

  The first contact from the outside world turned out to be a cold call. ‘Who’s this?’

  ‘My brother’s name is Stuart. He’s married to a Natalie.’ The man on the end sounded as surprised to be talking to someone as she was. ‘Are you their neighbour?’

  All that she could bring to mind were the stock phrases of loss from American television series. While she was still trying to think of a good way to say it, it was coming out of her mouth, ‘Stuart’s dead.’

  Sean leapt up, casting cards all over the floor. He pushed his chair back, making as much noise as he could. The kids were staring at him not her. Thank Christ they hadn’t heard. ‘Come on kids, let’s see if the TV is back.’

  Oscar looked disapproving. ‘But what about music time?’

  ‘They have music on TV, Oz. We’re going now, come on.’ He shooed the two little ones to the door. Zac lagged after them but Hannah waved him away.

  ‘Are you still there? That was a terrible way to hear it. I’m sorry.’

  ‘I knew.’ The man’s voice was firmer, steelier in a way that made Hannah feel less appalled by what she had said. ‘You have my niece, Ella.’

  Have, as if she was an object they’d borrowed from next door.

  ‘One of Natalie’s colleagues rang me. They listened to her voicemail after she died. Did you know she died? They bothered to track me down and pass on Stuart’s message. That he’d left their little girl with the neighbours. Didn’t you think that someone might be looking for her?’

  ‘If you knew where she was, why didn’t you come and get her?’

  ‘I’m over the bridge. You can’t seriously think I’d cross quarantine lines. When the danger has passed, I’ll come and get Ella.’

  ‘So you’re happy for her to eat my food and you’re happy to leave her in danger.’ She’d let Daniel go, she wasn’t handing Ella over to a complete stranger, even one who said he was Stuart’s brother. Especially one who was behaving like a jerk. ‘I don’t know who you are. How do I know you’re her uncle? I never heard Stuart talk about a brother.’

  ‘Go and ask Ella if she has an Uncle Dave.’

  ‘You could have got that from the net.’

  ‘I’m her uncle, who are you to her?’

  ‘I’m the person her father left her with. I’m the one who’s here.’ How dare he suggest that Ella was at risk with them, how dare he leave her there if she was. ‘I intend to keep looking after her until this is over. She’s alive and she’s well and she’s happy. There are five people here and we’re going to be fine. So you can convince me of who you are when it’s all over. Until then, I’m going to keep on doing what I’m doing now.’ She was breathing fast and felt light-headed from the oxygen. ‘I’m sorry about Natalie. She was a nice person. I liked her. And Stuart too.’

  She hung up on a jerk who may or may not have lost a brother. Even jerks deserve to have their grief respected and it wasn’t his fault that he took her by surprise. She wanted to cry. Either he was a crappy human being or she was. Or both. But they couldn’t both be nice, at least one of them was wanting.

  The kids moved feverishly from television to internet and back again. It was as if their brains, having been weaned off electronic information, couldn’t take it in. On the morning of the third day, Hannah came across Oscar in the middle of the living room, spinning on the spot, sound system playing, TV on. Ella looked on vacantly bemused.

  She shooed them out to the backyard and watched them play, leaning against one of the wooden posts that held up the patio roof. The winter sun soaked into her jeans but the breeze blew through her shirt. A flush rouged Ella and Oscar’s cheeks, from exertion and the cold.

  Sean ambled from the house. The smell of coffee that preceded him started a chemical chain reaction of craving. He nuzzled a kiss into her cheek, held the mugs right under her nose.

  ‘I put the kettle on. Aren’t I clever?’ He handed her one. ‘It’s an amazing bit of technology. You put some water in and flick a switch. It turns itself off when it’s hot. No matches and you can walk away with no fear of the house burning down. I like this electrickery.’

  She put her arm around him and pulled him close for warmth. As they drank their coffee leaning against each other, they watched the kids running back and forth with aimless energy. The warmth of the coffee spread through her, a tiny satisfaction with herself and the world for getting them to this moment.

  ‘They’re going to run out of puff soon.’ Sean said softly.

  ‘Wel
l, off you go, organise them into a game.’

  ‘I made the coffee. Anyway, I’m an old bloke, don’t want to do the knees in.’

  ‘Zac’s surgically attached to his computer but we could get him out here. They like it when Zac plays with them.’

  ‘He wasn’t able to interface with the electrons for days. That had to be traumatic for him.’ Sean gave her a squeeze around her waist. ‘He’s talking to his friends, in the strange digital way they communicate. He’s re-experiencing the world.’

  Hannah sighed. It was a good sign, a return to normality. She was surprised that, unlike Zac, she felt no compulsion to return to the internet. Beyond confirming what Zac had discovered, that Manba was declining, there was nothing more she felt the need to know. They were going to get to the other side soon, soon.

  Ella flopped onto the grass, arms outspread, head turned to one side. Oscar jogged around her in slow contracting circles. A blast of cold air caught Hannah in the back, sending a chill through her. The windbreak of Sean’s arm had gone and she saw his eyes roam around the small yard.

  ‘Come on kids. We’re going to look at the world.’

  ‘They’ve been on the computer constantly for two days. Oscar’s eyes are square. I think his brain will explode if he gets any more input.’

  ‘No, we’re going to look at the world.’

  Sean led the three of them through the house and she followed with a frisson of excitement, like they were on a dare. The closer they got to the front door, the more she felt the bubble of novelty turn to cold apprehension. It froze her halfway down the hall.

  ‘What are we doing?’ She called from the back of their small gaggle.

  ‘We’re going to stand on the porch and look at the world.’

  ‘That’s out the door, Dad!’

  ‘Yes, Dad. I’d like to have a word with you about this.’

  Sean reached across the top of the small heads and pulled her by the hand. ‘It’s a bit of excitement. How unlucky would we have to be, to stand on our own porch and get a bug that’s dying out?’ The thought of stepping outside, of being able to step outside, was irresistible, no matter how irresponsible. Soon it would be over and they wouldn’t think twice. Why wait, why not now? Just to the porch.

  Sean looked through the glass in the door. ‘The street’s empty, how dangerous can an empty street be?’

  ‘Okay.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘But if anyone appears, we come right back in, kids. Okay? And we absolutely don’t touch anyone or anything.’

  Ella and Oscar were already pushing against the door while Sean was trying to pull it in. They showed no signs of having heard her. Zac appeared at the end of the hall, somehow aware despite his headphones that something was going on.

  And there they were, lined up along the verandah for no good reason, Oscar’s chin just reaching the top of the porch brick wall. Last time he was out here, she’d had to hold him up. Ella stood next to him, jumping up and down to try to see over. She swung herself to the opening in the wall in front of the door, holding onto the safety of the bricks with one hand. Zac lounged with one arm rested on Oscar’s head.

  Hannah watched them as much as she watched the street. It was like freewheeling downhill for the first time, unconvinced the brakes would work. Thrilling and seductive.

  ‘Hey.’ Sean held an arm out to her. ‘Relax. There’s five of us, if anyone comes along we can take them. Ella can nibble their knees.’

  She squeezed in between Zac and Sean. ‘So this is what the world is like now.’ She looked around. ‘Not much different.’

  A house with a broken front door, unkempt lawns. Plastic shopping bags of garbage tied at the top punctuated the footpath, like secret cairns marking hidden occupation. That was different. No visible people, no audible voices, only the sweet, pervasive smell of decay and the hint of movement around the bags of garbage in her peripheral vision.

  The outsideness kept their interest. It would be theirs again, they would inhabit this world, they just had to wait. For the time being, they held the battlements of her fortress and her keep. Soon, soon they would reclaim the street as well.

  ‘I’m done.’ Sean stretched. ‘Fascinating as this is, time to go in.’

  ‘Oh, Dad, go on Dad, just five minutes more.’ Oscar pleaded. It was as if the air was sweeter. Ella looked mournful.

  ‘I’ll look after them. I won’t let them do anything stupid. You can go in.’ Zac looked every second of his fourteen years.

  Hannah didn’t have to consider. ‘No, not today. In we go.’

  ‘There’s no one on the street. They can be inside the second they see someone. You’ll come inside the second you see someone, won’t you kids?’

  The two littlies sang ‘yes’ in chorus while Zac looked on, the question beneath reply. ‘And you’ll do everything Zac tells you to without arguing?’

  ‘Yes.’

  They left the kids, faces into the breeze, arranged like three bears, little Ella, medium sized Oscar and Zac at the end. The living room felt bigger, they had the whole sofa to themselves. Without standing up, they could pick up the phone, switch on the television or open the laptop. They could turn the world on and off.

  As Sean flicked between channels, news from overseas, sitcoms, roaming for something, he didn’t know what, Hannah traced new lines on his face, the weariness and tension that had become habit. He saw her looking at him and smiled. She ran her finger down the vein on his temple. ‘Can this be over now?’

  The tightness, the weariness evaporated. ‘We just have to be a bit more patient.’

  ‘I wish the world could stay out there.’ She shrugged. ‘I still haven’t checked my email. I don’t know if I’ll have lots of messages or none at all. Which would be worse? Nobody wanting me, or too many people wanting me?’

  ‘I want you. I need you.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean anything. I could be your least favourite person in the world and right now you’d still need me.’ She lay her head down on the back of the sofa.

  ‘Yeah.’ He wasn’t really listening and she was left free to watch the internal mechanisms of his mind play out on his face. She saw his thoughts change track again. ‘Do you reckon they’d be delivering chocolate biscuits yet?’

  The front grill opened and closed with a slam. Two sets of small feet scampered down the hallway. Oscar reached the door first. ‘There’s something in the street. Zac said you have to come.’

  ‘He said it’s Mr Whippy. Can we have an ice cream?’

  ‘It’s not Mr Whippy.’

  ‘That’s what Zac said.’

  ‘Mr Whippy has a song.’

  ‘Can we have an ice cream?’

  Hannah was already halfway down the hall before Sean got himself reluctantly off the sofa. He called from behind, ‘It’s not going to be Mr Whippy. It’s only a van, guys.’ He caught up with them and swung Ella up into his arms. ‘Let’s have a look but there won’t be any ice cream.’

  Zac was out on the porch, leaning over the wall, his feet off the ground. ‘I heard it just before. You have to be quiet, I think it’s going away.’

  ‘Your dad says we can’t have ice cream. He says it’s not Mr Whippy.’

  ‘I said they had food, not ice cream.’

  ‘Who had food, Zac? You’re not making a lot of sense.’

  ‘I could barely hear it, it came from that way.’ He pointed towards the intersection in the direction of Lily’s shop. ‘I heard a voice on a loudspeaker and a van.’

  ‘We didn’t hear anything.’

  ‘You were in the house. But they said something about food. We have to go. We have to have a look.’

  Hannah was pretty sure that if she said no, he’d vault the fence and go anyway. ‘Look, Zac, you’ve got no idea what’s out there.’

  ‘Here’s the plan.’ Sean cut her off. ‘We go together. Everyone holds someone’s hand and the instant I say, you run straight home. Promise?’

  Oscar and Ella nodded solemnly and said ‘P
romise.’ Zac muttered ‘Sure.’

  ‘No. Just no.’ The voice inside, the one that says how will this sound when you have to explain it to someone else kicked in. ‘You don’t wander off into the middle of an epidemic. You don’t spend six weeks inside then risk being exposed.’

  ‘But the graph, Mum, my graph.’

  ‘A graph won’t keep you safe. A graph is only statistics, it doesn’t say anything about us.’

  ‘Dad, my graph.’

  ‘He’s got a point.’

  ‘You have got to be kidding me. You cannot think this is acceptable.’

  ‘We can look, only look.’

  ‘You trust Ella and Oscar not to touch? And what are you going to do if they do? Give them a good dose of statistics? Treat them with who’d have thought that would happen? No one takes a step off the porch.’

  ‘To the corner and no further.’

  ‘No. No. No.’

  Sean already had hold of Ella with one hand and Oscar with the other. Hannah was marooned at the front door, with no way to anchor them. Even if she could convince Sean, in the few seconds before he hit the stairs, not to go, Zac was almost certainly beyond her persuasion. She could stand firm and lose all control or mitigate what going to happen with or without her. ‘No one goes anywhere unless they have a mask and gloves.’

  ‘Are you serious, Mum? They’ll be gone.’

  She stamped her foot. ‘A second. I’ll be a second.’ She looked fiercely at Sean. ‘Promise me you won’t let them go until I get back. Or everyone goes inside right now.’

  Hannah grabbed a handful each from the box of gloves and the pile of masks on the hallway table. She put the oversized gloves and mask on Ella while Sean helped Oscar with his.

  ‘Pull it tight, Zac or it’ll slip off and it won’t keep the contamination out.’

  ‘I know.’

  As soon as Zac had them on, he headed down the steps.

  ‘Wait for the rest of us, Zac. I mean it. And you hold my hand or we don’t go.’

  ‘No way.’

  ‘Okay then, you don’t have to hold my hand.’ Although Hannah felt a little scorned. ‘Hold Oscar’s hand, he can hold my hand. And you’re responsible for him too.’