“During World War One, the soldiers carried garlic. It was considered the poor man’s penicillin. It’s a natural antibiotic and antiviral. Doc Adams doesn’t believe in vitamins either. If he can’t write a prescription for it, he feels it’s worthless. He forgets that most of our medicines are plant based.”
Christine set the bottle down.
“Dear, I don’t know if this will help keep you from getting sick, but it certainly isn’t going to hurt you to try. That young man in the other room needs you. And he needs you to be well. Take two twice a day, and if you can get him to take some, all the better.” Marion finished making the tea, adding a spoonful of honey to the cup. “See if he’ll drink this while I warm up the soup.”
Christine pulled the mask up over her nose and mouth and opened the bedroom door. She set the cup on the night stand and felt Trevor’s forehead. It still felt warm. He opened his eyes and she smiled at him.
“Hi. I brought you some tea.” She helped him sit up and lifted the cup to his lips.
“Mmm, that tastes good, and it feels good on my throat. What is it?” Trevor asked, closing his eyes again.
“Some concoction Marion made. She also brought you some real chicken soup, instead of canned. Are you hungry?”
“Not really, but I’ll try to get some down,” he answered, and quickly drifted back to sleep.
***
Christine wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and settled on the couch to watch the news.
“…for Disease Control has confirmed outbreaks of a strong flu-like virus in Ohio, Michigan, and Colorado. The director of the CDC is urging everyone to stay home if you aren’t feeling well, cover your mouth when you cough, and drink plenty of fluids,” the announcer said.
“Ohio, Michigan and Colorado? What about Indiana?” Christine said aloud.
***
Marion’s soup was good. Really good, Christine thought, however it wouldn’t last more than one day and she wanted to save it for Trevor. She let herself into the garage and started restacking the food boxes by category. Vegetables went in one pile, ready to eat meals in another, and soup went into the house. It startled her how little soup was left and she knew Trevor needed more clear soups instead of the creamy ones they had in abundance.
“Trevor, I need to go to the Main Street store for more soup,” she told him when he woke again. “What’s the code for the door?” He was quiet for so long she thought he had fallen back to sleep.
“Six numbers,” he mumbled. “One, three, seven, eight, six…” and he was out again.
***
Christine parked her cruiser behind the store, and made sure no one was watching her before she got out of the car. She stood staring at the keypad, thinking. She had only five of the required six numbers, but there had to be a logical sequence to the numbers and if she could figure it out she would have the final code. She sat back in her car with paper and pen and wrote the numbers down, then wrote them in two lines, even numbers on one line, odd on the next, and circled the known numbers. She saw the pattern and quickly went back to the keypad and punched in one, three, seven, eight, six, and two. The red light winked out, the green light came on, and she opened the door.
Inside, she took one of the smaller green plastic hand baskets and filled it with chicken noodle soup, boxes of bouillon, and beef barley soup. She also took two loaves of bread, a box of green tea, and a little plastic bear filled with honey. After heading toward the exit, she went back for a box of dog bone treats.
She opened the back door cautiously, looking carefully before stepping out into the afternoon mist, and bumped into Chief Mallory.
“Oh, it’s just you,” Marty said. “I was driving by and saw movement in the store and thought I’d better check it out.” He looked down at the basket filled with food. “How’s Trevor doing?”
“No change,” Christine answered. “I ran out of clear soup to feed him. I actually feel guilty taking this, even though I know it belongs to Trevor.”
“Yes, it is his. You do what you need to do to get him well again.”
“Marty, I was going to give this to Marion when she came by next. Would you take it to her please?” Christine handed Marty a loaf of Italian bread. “I enjoy her visits, but I don’t like exposing her to this flu.”
“I’ll be happy to, Christine. You get on home now.” He pulled the door shut for her and the red light came on to indicate the door was once again locked and secure.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“I’m definitely feeling better, Doc,” Trevor said while Doc Adams listened to his breathing.
“I’d give it one more day of rest just to be on the safe side. You’ve recovered in one week while others that caught this are still sick,” the doctor said, putting his stethoscope away.
“Marty said there have been a few deaths,” Christine remarked. “It must have been really bad.”
Doc Adams looked down for a moment before answering. “Where there was a concentration of people it was worse. At the school, where the quake victims were housed… only a few survived. It swept through there at incredible speed.”
“Only a few survived? You mean the rest are… dead?”
“I’m afraid so. Of the approximately 55,000 residents of Greenwood, we’ve lost over 5,000 already and the numbers keep climbing. You were very lucky, Trevor. Very lucky indeed. Be careful though, this virus is making a second go-around and appears to be even worse. This flu is sweeping the nation, not just here.” Doc Adams took his little black bag and left.
“Why didn’t you tell the doc what you’ve been giving me, Christine?” Trevor asked.
“Marion said he doesn’t believe in natural treatments, and he would likely think they didn’t have anything to do with you getting better anyway. From watching you this past week I think what Marion suggested helped you a great deal. And I’m thankful for that.” She took his hand, holding it to her cheek. “I was so worried about you, Trev, I was willing to do anything if it might have helped.”
“Come here, you.” Trevor pulled her so she was lying next to him. He kissed her deeply. “I’ve really missed you.” She snuggled under the covers and sighed with contentment.
***
The day dawned with blue skies, sunshine. and by noon the temperatures were hovering at seventy degrees.
“Do you feel like taking a walk? We’ve been housebound for over a week, and I for one would like to get some fresh air,” Trevor said, enjoying a cup of coffee instead of tea.
“I think that’s a great idea, though I think we should limit ourselves to only a block or two. I know Holly has missed her longer walks,” Christine agreed.
***
Two blocks from her house, Christine spotted a park and found a bench for them to sit on in the sunshine. She tossed a tennis ball for Holly, who joyfully took off after it.
“Notice anything strange about this park?” Trevor asked, looking around. His long legs were stretched out in front and his arms were casually resting along the back. His jacket hung open slightly, exposing the gun he still wore. Christine saw his weapon and tucked her elbow to her body, feeling the comforting bulge of her own gun.
She looked around and tossed the ball again, following the dog with her eyes. A swing moved slightly in the gentle breeze while the other pieces of playground equipment sat unused. “It’s empty except for us.”
“It’s Saturday afternoon, the weather is perfect, and there’s no one out. I find that sad and a bit disconcerting. Where are all the children? Are they sick, or worse? Or are their parents afraid to let them out?” His eyes skimmed the city-block sized park again. There was a fountain with no water, a unisex restroom, the usual climbing structures and slides, and it was graced with lush green grass in need of mowing. And it was empty. “This park looks … lonely.”
Holly woofed her happy woof and Christine looked up to see the dog greeting someone. At the distance, it was impossible to make out features, although she could tell it wasn’t
a child. She waved, and the person waved back. Holly came bounding back to the bench where her new masters sat, almost leading this new person to them.
“Hello,” a young woman said, staying a good twenty feet from them. She appeared to Trevor to be early twenties, with long dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail, and a sad face. Her clothes were neat and clean although a bit big on her, standard now by the lack of food.
“Are you sick?” she asked.
“No, we’re not sick. I was, but I got better,” Trevor answered, and she ventured a bit closer. “Are you?”
“No. My parents caught the flu and went to the hospital last week. I haven’t seen them since and the guards won’t let me in. No one can tell me anything.” She looked down at her feet and then over at Holly. “I’m lonely and… scared. My name is Janis. Can I sit with you for a while?” Without waiting for an answer, she gracefully lowered herself to the ground where she stood, and sat. Holly sensed her sadness and scampered over to lick her face. She giggled and hugged the dog, and then started weeping.
“That’s Holly, and I think she’s happy to meet you, Janis,” Christine said softly. She pulled a cloth hanky from her pocket and offered it to their new friend. “I’m Christine, and this is my fiancé, Trevor. We live a couple of blocks over.”
Janis sniffled and wiped her face with the hanky. “I’m sorry about this,” she sniffled again, “I’ve never been alone before and it’s frightening. It’s like being trapped in a bad disaster movie, ya know? The kind where you wake up and find everyone gone.” Holly pushed her nose against the girl’s hand for a rub. “Do you come here every day?”
“This is our first day out since I’ve gotten over the flu. I think, though, that weather permitting, we might be making it a regular stop. Would you like to meet us here again? Say around noon?” Trevor said, squeezing Christine’s hand.
“Oh, yes, I’d like that. I would really, really like that!” Janis replied. “Thank you.”
***
The next day at noon, the three met again, and Janis played with Holly, tossing the tennis ball.
The following day, Christine brought three peanut butter sandwiches, which delighted Janis, and Janis brought a Frisbee, which delighted Holly.
Toward the end of their hour visit, an older man walked into the park with his Dalmatian puppy.
“Good afternoon,” he said in a deep voice, standing away from them much as Janis had that first day. “It’s good to see someone out enjoying life. My name is Seth and this is Dot. Not very original, I know, but fitting,” he laughed. Holly and Dot ran off for a game of chase.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Seth.” Trevor stood to shake the newcomer’s hand, as he’d been taught to respect his elders. When Seth hesitated, Trevor lowered his hand. “We aren’t sick. I caught the flu, but recovered. Christine and I came to the park several days ago and met Janis. We’ve been meeting now for a couple of days, just to have someone to talk to. Would you care to join us?”
Seth smiled and nodded.
“I think some of us have a natural immunity to this virus,” Seth said, mopping his ebony face with a red and white bandana as the sun beat down on his bald head. “My wife came down sick early on. I took care of her the best I could, but the Lord took her anyway.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “She was my island in these stormy seas and I miss her greatly. I have yet to tell my congregation, but many are afraid to be with others until this passes. She played the piano for our Sunday services and often led the children’s classes.”
“Are you a minister, sir?” Janis asked, hope filling her dark gray eyes.
“Yes, I am. It’s a small church downtown. I don’t know if it will ever open again, however, I will always remain hopeful. God will lead me where I need to be. He always has.”
By the end of the week, the small group had grown to six adults, one child, and three dogs. Noon had become the focus for many, even on days when clouds threatened.
Janis stood suddenly at the sight of a police car. “We haven’t done anything wrong, have we?” Panic laced her shrill voice.
“Not that I know of, Janis,” Trevor said.
The scout car come to a stop and a lone officer emerged. Trevor recognized Marty and waved. “Relax, he’s a friend of mine.”
Chief Mallory walked up to the group of people clustered around the single wooden picnic table. “Afternoon, folks. Trevor, Christine. I’m glad to see you up and around again, Trevor.”
“Hi, Marty. These are our neighbors and new friends,” Christine said. “We’ve been meeting now for almost a week at noon every day, just to talk and know we’re not alone.” She looked over at Janis and smiled, then introduced everyone.
“I’m glad I was the one who came to check out the complaint,” Marty said.
“Complaint?” Trevor echoed. “About us using the park?”
“Someone, who is undoubtedly watching us right now, called concerned about the ‘crowd of people’ having a meeting of some kind here,” Marty laughed.
“May the Lord open their hearts and their eyes, and perhaps join us,” Seth said. “We are open to anyone, Chief, and we certainly are not up to any mischief. We just needed fellowship.”
“I can see that, sir, and you are obviously not breaking any curfews.” Marty touched the edge of his cap and left.
The wind picked up and tossed some fallen leaves around. The air was moist with pending rain and clouds hid the midday sun. The group said their farewells and everyone went home.
***
Christine turned the sound up on the TV. Her favorite meteorologist, Matt Zika from the National Weather Service, was giving the weather.
“While relatively rare, tornadoes do occur in southern Indiana in January. There's been nearly 1,400 tornadoes in Indiana since 1961 and of them around thirty occurred during the month of January. There actually is a secondary maximum for tornadoes that occurs during the winter months that occurs in the mid-south,” he swept his hand along a line through Kentucky, Tennessee, Alabama, and Missouri.
“The typical setup for the larger outbreaks is similar. A strong area of surface low pressure develops in the Southern Plains and intensifies as it moves northeastward towards the Lower Great Lakes. Unusually warm and humid air is drawn northward from the Gulf of Mexico ahead of the low pressure system on strong southerly winds. Temperatures in the Ohio Valley including Indiana can surge well into the 70s ahead of the storm system. When it is that warm and humid in that part of the country in January, it almost always comes to the end with some sort of strong to severe thunderstorms.
“As the low intensifies, cold arctic air is drawn southward from the Northern Plains on strong northerly winds on the back side of the low pressure system. The collision zone between the very cold air - perhaps temperatures as low as the 20s in January - and the very warm air surging northward, with those temperatures in the 70s, will result in thunderstorm development where the cold air is forcing the warm air to rise violently upward.
“Since there is a lot more wind energy available in the atmosphere in the wintertime, it doesn't take much for thunderstorms to begin rotating, which then have the potential to produce tornadoes.
“An interesting note that, while it didn't occur in January, the Tri-State Tornado that occurred on March 18, 1925 is still the deadliest tornado in U.S. history. It was on the ground for over two hundred miles from Missouri into southwest Indiana. Six hundred and ninety-five people were killed in that tornado alone. Let’s all hope that record is never broken. The weather patterns we’re seeing right now could fuel some very nasty weather, so if you do see anything please take shelter immediately.”
“Did he say tornadoes?” Trevor asked.
“Matt Zika is usually pretty accurate,” Christine murmured. “I’m scared, Trevor.”
“No need to be scared if we take precautions.” He paced a bit. “Rather than get caught at the last minute, I think we should get a safe area set up for us. Besides, no one has
spotted a tornado yet, so it’s only a possibility. I know you have one, but I haven’t explored your basement. Let’s go look.” He took her hand and she led him to one of the doors leading off the kitchen.
The stairway was dark and ominous looking until Christine hit a switch and flooded it with artificial light. White walls reflected the bright lights and the deep blue Berber carpeting muffled their footfalls.
“Wow, this is really nice,” Trevor said, looking around at the mostly finished basement. The carpeting extended throughout the large, empty room and a bank of shelves graced one wall.
“My dad works alternating shifts in a mine and often has trouble sleeping unless it’s pitch dark. He has a second bedroom over there.” Christine pointed to another door. “There’s also a full bathroom down here and a kitchenette behind those louvered doors. Even though he has that room upstairs, he really prefers being down here, where it’s quiet and he can be alone.” She walked back to the stairs and turned on a bank of switches, lighting the place up and chasing the darkness from the corners. “What do we need to do first?”
“Not much from the looks of it,” Trevor said. “Maybe we should bring all that food in. It isn’t exactly secure sitting in the garage. It would be easy to access here, and if we ever get stuck down here, we would be fine. I guess that’s the first thing we should do.”
***
“I’m tired!” Christine dropped into one of the wooden kitchen chairs. “I must have walked up and down those stairs twenty times!”
The Journal (Book 5): Fault Line Page 12