by Pamela Jekel
“Yeah, but if they can shut us down for two days, they can shut us down for good,” he said.
Jack wondered when his son had started to sound so cynical, and somehow he’d missed it. “Well, I think it’s good that you’re hearing lots of opinions,” he said, “but I’d have to agree with your mom. They have no reason to disrupt global travel, particularly if they’re trying to unite the planet.” Of course, the shares of every airline stock had plunged after the Advisors’ last announcement, so clearly Chase’s seventh-grade teacher wasn’t the only one thinking about the future of air travel.
Moses decided to change the subject. “Daddy, the man in the closet!”
“Yeah, yeah!” Miranda squealed, “I heard him, too!”
Jack turned a solemn face to his two youngest, “No, no, no. You must have been mistaken. I told him to go away, and he did.”
“No, he back, he back!” Moses insisted, kicking the table as he bounced in his booster seat.
“You better do something, Jack,” Skylar said, shaking her head, “I won’t tolerate this kind of interruption of family time.”
Jack took a free hand and, hiding it inside his napkin, knocked it suddenly and hard under the table, simultaneously turning in mock-outrage to glare at the kitchen pantry door.
“I tole you, I tole you!” Moses screamed in delight.
“He’s in there, he’s in there!” Miranda giggled.
Jack put down his napkin in exasperation, rose slowly with great dignity, and walked to the pantry. “You’ll need to stop that right now.” He glowered fiercely at the closed door. “You’re disturbing my family’s dinner. I’ll ask you to leave and never come back.”
Chase grinned. “Open the door, Dad.”
Of course, that wasn’t the way the game was played. Jack shook his head, “No, no. I will respect the man’s privacy. But he’ll have to respect our boundaries.” Back to the door with his sternest tone, “Now, sir, you will leave and not return.” He took his seat again and started to eat. The two youngest were so tickled they could hardly sit still, watching their father, mimicking the movements of his fork and spoon, pretending to attend to their dinners, as the moments stretched on. Then Jack casually dropped his hand to his lap. Miranda shut her eyes tight with excitement. Stretching out the moment, Jack slowly wrapped his hand in the napkin. He waited a moment and ominously, ruthlessly knocked under the table again, twice, three times.
Moses shouted with joy. “He still there, Daddy!”
“Get him, get him!” Miranda chortled
Skylar looked down at her plate, so her kids wouldn’t see how her eyes glimmered with private joy as the ritual played out, and her husband got up two more times to repel the intruder. The time would come, soon enough, when her teenaged daughter would stalk to the door, yank it open, and confront the “man” with an indignant, “What is your problem!” but for now, Daddy conquered all intruders, slew all dragons. And that’s the way it should be, just as it was when her father sat at the head of the table.
* * *
The media discussed the issues importantly, and the government sent out bulletins, but on the day named, the alien craft above Atlanta disappeared, and it was reported worldwide that no craft were seen for the air blackout period. Then as silently and suddenly as they had appeared that December night in 2022, they reappeared again, back in their same positions.
Oneida said that her nephew had a telescope, and he reported that it was the same craft that had been over Atlanta for a year and a half. “He says same size, same color, same exact spot, right over Turner Field, don’t move up or down neither.”
“How can he tell that?” Skylar asked, as she put the groceries away. “Aren’t they all the same?”
“No ma’am,” Oneida shook her head, picking up the vegetables and taking them to the sink. “He says they got some small ones, big ones, and some with more holes on the bottom. He got a bunch a photos off the computer, said them things look different way up north, look different over there in China, too. They all scary though, you ask me.”
“Has your nephew got some sort of special clearance? Because I haven’t seen too many photos on the Internet of these things. Be sure to use that organic lemon in the veggie wash, Oneida.”
“Yes, ma’am, I know.” She turned, beaming with pride. “Over at the college, they got stuff we don’t never see, Miz Sky, and that boy studying to be a scientist.
They know more n’ we do ‘bout these guys from Mars.”
Skylar paused, her arms full of big juice bottles. “He says they’re from Mars?”
“Not exactly, no,” she said, turning back to the sink. “He says they got hidin’ places there though, underneath where we can’t see them.” She nodded vigorously. “He says they been here a l-o-o-ng time, only now things is different.”
“What’s different?”
“Well, what they says, Miz Sky, that we got to change our ways, and that’s a fact.”
Skylar kept stacking canned goods. The pantry was crammed with every sort of dried bean, pasta, staple, even dried milk, something she never used and hoped she never would. “So you think maybe God sent these aliens?”
Oneida turned and wiped her hands. “’Course He did. He figured we kill Jesus again, if He come, so God sent them Newcomers instead. That’s why they called that, I imagine. ‘Cause they comin’ with something new.”
Over the next month, the media and the Internet reported that the Advisors had sent messages to all existing political powers to force large corporations to evolve into nonpolluting industries.
“Clearly, they’ve got a lot to learn about how democracy works,” Jack said, as he finished the Atlanta Journal-Constitution and dropped it in the recycling. “The best we can do is tax them into compliance. And by the time the attorneys finish watering that down and tying all efforts up in court, it’ll be business as usual.”
“Well, we did that sort of thing during World War II, right?” Skylar said. “We just took over whole industries and told them what they were going to do.” She was listening with one ear to her husband, with the other for Moses upstairs. He was fussy yesterday, and today’s swim lessons might have to be cancelled, hot as it was and outraged as Miranda was likely to be. Wasn’t like him to sleep so late.
“The President had more power then. Now Congress would have to do it, and good luck getting them to close down whole industries to retool to something more ecologically-correct in their home states.”
“So what will they do, then? The aliens, I mean?”
“Turn every CEO to salt, I guess, like the Sodomites.”
She heard her son fussing weakly, likely building to an indignant crescendo. “You’re taking Chase, right?” she threw over her shoulder as she went up—
“Right,” he said, reaching for the Gatorade pouches Chase would need at least three of after playing soccer in this heat. Why didn’t they schedule the games for earlier in the summer months? Not like the kids weren’t up anyway, watching cartoons…..
“Jack!”
Something in her voice made him move quickly up the stairs. She had Moses on the changing table, diaper off, and the boy’s quiet, sagging form was enough to focus Jack’s attention immediately. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “He’s hot as a pistol.”
Moses was clearly ill, fevered, eyes glassy, and face vacant. Most frightening of all, he was not crying. Skylar picked up his sipper cup and took him to the rocker, holding him close and gazing into his face. “He feels like his bones have dissolved,” she said, murmuring to him. “Poor baby, what’s wrong with Mozy? My boy’s got a little flu bug?”
She put the sipper cup to his lips, but Moses did not respond. She tried several times to coax him into drinking, to no avail. Still he did not cry, but only turned his head and moaned slightly. She looked at him closely and then her voice sharpened as she stood again and put Moses back on the changing table. “Jack, help me with him.” Reaching for th
e thermometer, she said, “he’s not going to like this, but we need to see just how hot he is.” Jack stepped forward to gently hold his son still, but Moses did not struggle or whine when she inserted the tip into his ear. Usually, Moses yelped and tried to bat it away, as he did anything close to his eyes or head. The thermometer beeped its results quickly, and she gasped. “It’s almost 105. Jack, go call Dr. Allan right away. And call Oneida, too.”
Jack hurried to the phone, shouting for Chase to get Miranda dressed and get himself ready to go. He got the pediatric nurse on call first try, thank God, and when he told her Moses’ symptoms, she immediately put him on hold rather than put him in line for a callback. That made him even more nervous, and he shouted up to Chase again, “Are you getting dressed? Get your sister ready right now!”
“I am, I am!” Chase shouted back. “What’s wrong? Miranda, come here and get these pants on!”
Jack could hear Miranda wail with indignation. “You’re not the boss a me!”
The nurse came on in a hurry. “Doctor says you are to get Moses to Well Star right away, Mr. Cummings. She will call the pediatric admission desk so you can be seen without delay.”
“Does he need to go by ambulance?” Jack asked, shocked at her response. Babies get fevers all the time, right? Chase and Miranda must have had two dozen of them between them, but 105…? He couldn’t remember—
“No, but try to get there quickly. Doctor will be there as soon as she can, but we’ve had several calls this morning with similar symptoms. The pediatric clinic there is excellent.”
Jack got off the phone, called Oneida, asked her to meet them at the hospital so she could take the other two back home, and then hurried upstairs to see to Chase and Miranda. As he passed Moses’ room, he could see that Skylar already had him almost ready, stuffing things in his baby-bag.
“She said get him to Well Star---“
“I figured,” she said, her voice quavering.
“Oneida’s going to meet us there.”
“Good,” she said, “Chase!”
“Ma’am?” He was coming down the hall, pulling Miranda behind him. “Moses sick?”
“Yes, and Oneida’s going to take you two home, just as soon as she meets us at the hospital.”
“The hos’til?” Miranda started to cry again. “I hate the hos’til!”
Jack swept her up in his arms and followed Skylar down the stairs, with Chase hurrying behind them. “So do I, kitten, but it’s not you who’s going this time, it’s Moz.”
As Dr. Allan promised, Moses was seen quickly, and Jack waited out in the lobby with Chase and Miranda, watching for Oneida. He was surprised at the relief he felt as she bustled in, scooped up Chase and Miranda, and clucked them out the door. “You goin’ see Moz soon as your mama brings him home,” she replied to Miranda’s questions, “he be fine, don’t you worry.”
Jack went back to where they were examining his son, only to find them strapping him on a gurney. He was still listless and unresisting. “We’re going to admit Moses,” the attending said. “We need to do some tests, and we’ll be able to make him more comfortable here.” Skylar’s face was pale, but her voice was strong. “Oneida’s got the kids?”
He nodded. “What do you think it is?” he asked the doctor.
“I don’t want to say until we’ve run some tests,” he said, “but high fevers in kids Moses’ age aren’t all that unusual. We’ve had several this week alone. We need to be on the safe side, though, and a night or two here is the best thing. He may be contagious, so let’s keep him away from the rest of the family until we’re sure what’s going on with him. Just wait here, and the nurse will come and get you when we have him settled in.”
They took Moses away, and Jack and Skylar sank into the hard plastic chairs like two kids sent to the principal’s office. “What did he say it might be?”
“He’s not saying,” Skylar said.
Not even a theory or a guess? That was either highly professional or highly terrifying, Jack thought. “And he wasn’t sick last night?”
“Just fussier than usual. I thought he was just over-tired.”
He took her hand. “Did the other two ever have fevers this high?”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Dr. Allan called on my cell. She’ll be here in an hour, she said.”
“Well, we’ll know more soon, then.”
She dropped her head on his shoulder, and they settled in to wait.
A nurse finally came to get them and took them to the pediatric ward, where they found their son in a small bed with no other child in the room. He turned to gaze at them when they came in, and he said, “Mama,” but he didn’t move.
“You okay, Moz?” Jack said going to one side of his bed and stroking his hair. It was damp with sweat. Skylar embraced him as best she could with him flat under the covers. He used his free hand to pat his mother’s back.
“Did you see the doctor, Mozy?” she asked.
“I dunno,” he said, his face flaccid. “I gotta shot,” he held up his other hand, with the IV tube snaking from it.
“Well, that’s going to make you feel better, Moz,” Jack said. “That’s what everybody’s job is here, to make you feel better.”
“Okay,” he said dully.
“Look,” Skylar said, going to the wall, “you’ve got your own TV. No fighting with Miranda over the clicker.”
“You gonna stay, Mama?”
She glanced at Jack. “Of course, I’m going to stay. Your dad will go home and check on things, make sure your sister hasn’t made big messes, and then he’ll come back, too.”
“’K,” he said, closing his eyes. “Nappy.”
Jack hugged him. “You take nappy, Moz, and I’ll be back soon.”
They went just outside the door. “They must think he’s contagious, or he’d be in the ward. Go and make sure the other two are okay,” Skylar said, “and call my parents. I’ll wait for the doctor, and I’ll call your cell just as soon as we know what’s going on.”
He hugged her hard. “Hang in there, babe.”
She gave him a wan smile and turned to go back inside.
Jack almost called his parents from the car, but since he knew nothing, he decided to wait. His mom tended to be a worrier, would certainly insist that his father drive her to the hospital immediately, and since his dad’s hip replacement, he didn’t need to be in the car the two hours from Athens, not unless it was necessary. But he did call Sky’s folks, since she’d asked him to, regretting that he had so little to tell them. Of course they were concerned, and he promised to call them right back as soon as he knew more, deflecting Sandra Morrow’s offer to come right away to mind Chase and Miranda.
“Oneida’s here,” he told his mother-in-law, keeping his voice lighter than he felt. “We’ll be fine. I don’t even know if they’ll keep him overnight.”
“You haven’t been feeling so great yourself,” Lou Morrow said on the other extension. “You don’t need to go up there and give those kids whatever you’ve got.”
“What’s wrong, Mom?” Jack asked.
“Oh, I’ve been coughing my fool head off,” Sandra said. Her voice sounded old and tired. “Probably just a summer bug coming on or something, I don’t know. But if you need me, I can be there.”
He got home, checked both kids who seemed normal, snatched up Moses’ blanket, stuffed his T-Rex into Sky’s travel kit, and said to Oneida, who stuck her head in the bedroom, “Pack Miss Sky’s overnight bag, will you? Just in case.” An inner voice made him stop and ask the woman, “You feeling alright?”
“Just fine, Mister Jack, just fine.” She put Sky’s old workout tights in the bag. “Give Moz his mama’s skivvies, he likes the feel a them on his cheek.”
“Call me if you need anything,” he said, going down the stairs with his arms full.
“I do that.”
“And call me if Chase or Miranda start acting sick.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, f
ollowing him to the door. “You just see to Miz Sky and Moz. We be fine.”
As Jack was going out, Chase called, “Wait, Dad!”
Jack turned, somehow finding a smile for his boy.
“Give Moz this from me,” he said, handing Jack his soccer trophy, a much-loved treasure he jealously guarded from his covetous brother. “Tell him he’s a winner.”
Jack took it, hugged Chase, and went off into the night.
At the hospital, he found Skylar still sitting beside his sleeping son. He tucked the workout pants next to Moses’ cheek and embraced his wife. “Still no word?”
“Not yet, but the nurses say soon. Dr. Allan hasn’t shown yet either. Did you have dinner?”
“No, you?”
She shook her head. “We can eat in shifts, I guess.”
“Did he wake up?”
“Sorta, off and on. He’s still really hot, and he’s mostly out of it. I did hear that they’ve got about a dozen cases of this, whatever it is, and not just kids either. Some elderly have been admitted, and the rest are children. They think it’s some kind of pneumonia or something.”
“Has he been coughing?”
“Yes, some.” A curious glance. “Why?”
He decided not to mention her mother right now and shrugged. “Normal symptom for pneumonia.”
With a sudden bustle of noise outside in the corridor, the attending physician came in. Instinctively, both Jack and Skylar stood to get the news, glancing anxiously at their sleeping son. “Well,” he said, “we still have some lab results to get, but we’ve narrowed it down. And frankly, I’m not surprised because as I’m sure your wife has told you, we’ve just been deluged with this. It’s probably a kind of pneumonia, but not what we’ve seen before, definitely bacterial rather than viral, high fevers, cough, deep fatigue. At this time, we don’t think he’s contagious, but we’re going to keep him isolated until we’re certain, same as the rest of these cases. Usually we see this in smokers, much more common in seniors, chronic lung patients, diabetics, pretty rare in healthy children this age. We’re hydrating him now, and if we can confirm legionellosis, we’ll start his antibiotics right away—“