The Flu (A Novel of the Outbreak)

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Ever see her?” Sam asked then took a drink of his beer.

  “I did once. At a mall in Akron.” Dylan shrugged. “Has like three kids. Big as a house. Not happy.” She shrugged and flipped another page. “I can’t believe Tigger pulled these out.”

  “Said he wants to show his new teacher.” Sam finished his beer. “What’s up with that, Dylan? Why regular school?”

  Dylan shrugged. . “Don’t know. I want to give it a try. Why? You against it?”

  “Nope. Tigger likes the kids he played with. It’s worth a shot.” Sam lifted the empty bottle. “I’m getting another.” He stood up and swayed. “Maybe not.” He sat back down.

  “Drink too much?” Dylan turned a page. “I told you. You have no tolerance.”

  “You’re right.”

  “How are you gonna drive?” she asked.

  “I’m kind of hoping...” he leaned his shoulder into her, “I don’t have to.”

  Dylan lifted her eyes from the page of the yearbook and turned. Sam’s face was right there.

  “Can I stay?” Sam asked. “I’ll sleep on the couch. I really had way too much. I mean I can wait until I sober up, if you...”

  “No. You can stay.” Dylan returned to the yearbook.

  “Well, in that case. Maybe I will have another beer. It is pretty...” Sam stopped when Dylan shrieked with laughter. “What?”

  “My God.” She laughed and indicated to a picture. “Look at Mick.”

  A snorted laugh escaped Sam. “I forgot how big he was. Looking back at that now, no wonder everyone called him Orca.”

  “And short. Look how short Mick was.” Dylan smiled. “Who would have thought?”

  “Was that the reason you never dated him back then?”

  “What? His weight problem in high school?” Dylan shook her head. “No. Mick’s weight had nothing to do with it. I would have been all too happy to date Mick if, well, you know, if it wasn’t for you.”

  Sam smiled. “Is it true?”

  “What I’m saying?”

  “No.” Sam shook his head. “Is it true about you and Mick now?”

  Dylan remained silent.

  “I know you two have that history, but Old Jim was saying that it’s pretty serious between you and Mick. Is it?”

  Dylan’s mouth opened, but it was the nearby sound of Mick’s voice that replied.

  “I’d like to hear the answer to that one too,” Mick said.

  “Mick.” Dylan peered up into the darkness. “We were looking at the yearbook.” Her smile faltered when she saw the seriousness in Mick’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  After shifting his eyes to Sam, Mick looked again at Dylan. “Sorry I took so long. Something else happened out there.”

  “That’s all right,” Dylan said.

  “But...I’m here now.” Mick glanced pointedly at Sam and spoke politely. “If you were holding down the fort, Sam, things are fine. You can go.”

  “Mick!” Dylan gasped in shock. “Can you be any ruder?”

  “Yes,” Mick answered. “Sam?”

  “I’m not.” Sam stood up and grabbed his empty beer bottle. “I’m staying tonight. Beer?” He showed the bottle to Mick then walked into the house.

  After watching Sam walk into the house, Dylan turned back to Mick who was walking away. “Mick.” She hurried from the porch to catch him.

  “Goodnight, Dylan.”

  Dylan grabbed for his arm. “Stop. He’s not staying because of anything romantic. He’s had too much to drink.”

  “Let him stay somewhere else.” Mick stated. “I don’t want him here all night with you.”

  “You have no right to tell me that.”

  A glare. A simple glare said it all and Mick pulled his arm away from Dylan. “You’re right. You are absolutely correct. I don’t have that right; I never had that right. Nor will I. I’m finished here, Dylan. I’m not gonna play this stupid tug-of-war emotional game with you. I’m not. I thought we had a chance, a real chance this time. I was wrong.” Mick started to leave again.

  “Mick...don’t do this. Come on.” Dylan followed him.

  “Are you done with Sam?” Mick asked.

  “Yes. Yes, I am.” Dylan nodded emphatically.

  Mick slowly and heavily raised his arm and pointed at the house. . “Then you go back in there, tell him ‘sorry’, stay the night at your Dad’s, his cousin Tony’s, anywhere but here. Hell, I’ll even fork over a hotel room for him, but you go and tell him he has to leave right now.”

  Dylan took in the deeply serious look on Mick’s face. “Mick... I... I can’t do that.”

  “Then I... I can’t do this, Dylan. I can’t. I’m sorry.” After one more look at Dylan, Mick turned and walked away. He hoped, he really hoped as he made it from her house out to the sidewalk, that at any second Dylan would call out to him. Chase him. She didn’t. The only thing Mick received as an answer to where her priorities lay was when he heard the slam of Dylan’s door, looked back, and she was gone.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Winston Research Station

  16 Miles South Deadhorse, Alaska

  August 26th

  A pupil that didn’t respond, an iris no longer blue but gray, lifeless and dull. The light shining into the woman’s wide open eye told more than her dead, discolored face. With a heavy sigh of desperation and sadness, Paul Lafayette, in protective garb, moved the flashlight around the dark room in the research station.

  Paul knew that he needn’t search for an answer as to what had happened to the sixteen people sprawled about the room. Remnants of their attempts at nourishment encircled their corpses. Particles of food were spread unfinished on paper plates about the room.

  The only answers Paul needed were specifics. He hoped that the scientists had attempted to record what was happening to them, at least early on, and that one of them had documentation somewhere. He knew that, sick or not, he would have tried to leave a report.

  But the emergency team that Paul arrived with was a skeleton crew. There were only four of them to sift through every detail in the station, seal it off, and collect samples. It would take days, maybe even weeks if the four of them were left to do it alone.

  Paul was grateful that wasn’t the case. A second crew arrived within five hours of Paul’s dawn call, and things were quickly underway.

  Having seen enough, Paul gave a nod to the photographer in the recreation room and walked out. He paused to watch another worker prepare to seal the room, while yet another worker collected air samples.

  He picked up the small silver box on the floor, a box filled with tissue samples he himself took when they first arrived at the isolated location, and then Paul left the building.

  The silver vehicle that Paul entered looked like a heavy duty mobile home. After disinfecting and removing his biohazard suit, he left the samples in the lab portion of the module and sought out the small desk where the paper portion of the investigation would occur.

  If Paul’s messy hair was any indication of his mental state, then his mind was haywire. He plopped down into the desk chair, took a moment to relax and stared at the phone with trepidation.

  He had to do it. Henry was waiting on the call. Paul dialed the direct line, the link to the main research center, and it was answered immediately.

  “Paul, give me some good news,” was Henry’s greeting instead of ‘hello.’

  “I wish.” Paul’s words were saddened.

  “All of them?” Henry asked.

  “All of them.”

  “When you called this morning, you said there were deaths.”

  Paul let out a slight chuckle in spite of his distress. “It was as I thought.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m going on a guess from what I visually assessed. I’m waiting to see if one of the team up here started at least some documentation. But...” he let out a sigh, “looks like the last ice storm cut all power to the station. Emergency generators ran out. No gas in them. No power, He
nry, no containment, you know that. Sealed but not secure. Somehow it got out.”

  “Maybe the elements—”

  “No.” Paul interrupted. “No. We’ll send the pictures ASAP. I don’t even need blood tests to confirm it. You should see them. No doubt. The biggest mistake they made, and they should have known better, but I’m going with the delirium of illness...they locked themselves in the rec room, and to stay warm, they lit a fire. Burned furniture and such. The fire eventually burned out. However, you know the size of that rec room, that fireplace. Bet you it stayed a good seventy degrees while that fireplace roared.”

  “Christ,” Henry said, “A virtual breeding ground.”

  “Breeding ground gone mad. You know the bug multiplies. So their staying warm—”

  “Sped things up.” Henry’s heavy exhalation carried over the phone.

  “Had that fire not burned out, had that room not frozen over, it would have been a virtual viral time bomb the second that door was opened,” Paul stated. “We’re just lucky.”

  “That we are. We thought ahead when we chose the location. The elements work in our favor, you know that, Paul,” Henry told him. “And, no one really knows they’re there.”

  “True.” Paul lifted his eyes from the desk when the side door to the mobile opened and a female assistant walked in. “So in essence, we may have lost our people, but we didn’t lose the battle. With no outside contact, the bug died along with our people. Frozen over, so we’ll...” There was silence, a long silence from Paul that conveyed almost as much panic as when he gasped, “Oh my God.”

  “What?” Henry asked. “What is it?”

  Paul didn’t answer. His heart sunk, and he was unable to breathe as he looked down at the small, handmade Eskimo bag that his assistant laid on his desk.

  * * *

  Lodi, Ohio

  Officer Haddock knocked just once on the open door to Mick’s office. “Busy, Chief?”

  “Nah.” Mick rocked some in his chair, eyes glued to the computer. “Just reading my emails. All twenty-seven of them.”

  “Twenty-seven emails. Aren’t you popular?”

  “Not really. They’re all from Dylan.”

  “Speaking of Dylan,” Officer Haddock said, “her Dad just filed vandalism charges. Seems someone spray-painted his front window. Not bad, but you know Mr. Roberts.”

  “You’re shitting me?” Mick turned around. “Who in the hell would do something like that?”

  Officer Haddock pointed back with his thumb. “Culprit caught. Sitting out front waiting to be arrested.”

  Mick stood up from behind his desk. With intimidation, wanting to blast the teenager who did it, he stormed into the main area of the police station and stopped cold. “Aw, damn it.” He shook his head. “Dylan.”

  Dylan stood up and held out her hands. “Arrest me, Mick. I’m a criminal.”

  “What the hell is this?” he asked then looked to the snickering officer. “Did Mr. Roberts really press charges?”

  “Yep,” Officer Haddock answered. “What should I do?”

  Mick grunted and motioned for Dylan to follow him. He turned and went to his office.

  Dylan happily followed.

  Upon her entrance, Mick shut the door and walked to his desk. “Sit.”

  “Fine.” Dylan sat down.

  “Now, why do you want me to arrest you?” Mick asked as he settled in his chair.

  “It’s the only way to get you to talk to me.”

  “I talk to you,” Mick said. “I said hello this morning. Asked how you were. Did I not?”

  “Mick,” Dylan almost whined. “Four days. It’s been four days since you paid attention to me other than just as the Chief of Police.”

  “I am the Chief of Police,” Mick stated.

  “I thought we were more,” Dylan said.

  “We’re broke up.”

  “You never officially said it.”

  “Fine.” Mick lifted his hands. “I break up with you.”

  “You can’t break up with me. You have never broken up with me.”

  “There’s always a first time,” Mick stated. “Has to be this way, Dylan.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Nothing I can do?” Dylan asked.

  “Nope.” Mick stood firm.

  “All right.” Slowly, Dylan stood up. She started to leave and stopped. “Are you sure?”

  “As much as I’d like to say ‘no’. I can’t.” Mick shook his head. “I have to stick to this decision.”

  “Bet you I can entice you,” Dylan said sneakily.

  “No way. I’m tough.”

  “Right.” Dylan reached for the door. “I’ll go.” She sighed out. “Nothing I can do?”

  After a shifting his eyes to the computer, Mick nodded. “Yeah, you can stop sending me all these goddamn emails every day. And now, look what you did today. You resorted to attaching large documents. Takes forever to download. What the hell did you send me? More forwarded jokes?”

  “Pictures,” Dylan answered.

  “Of?” Mick asked.

  “Me.” She paused. “Naked.”

  After a quick spin of his chair back to the computer, Mick maneuvered the mouse. “Oh, shit.” he said like a kid. “Oh, shit.”

  “See?”

  Eyes glued, Mick tilted his head with a wide grin. “Twenty-seven of them?”

  “Twenty-seven. Took it with the digital camera so the guy at the photo place didn’t get an eyeful.”

  “Who...” Mick quickly shook his head. “Who took these?”

  “Tracy.”

  “Who’s Tracy?” Mick asked.

  “You know, that girl from Wadsworth that comes in every Monday for karaoke. Wild girl, pretty. I go out and drink every once in a while with her. You know.”

  “Yeah, I do.” Mick’s eyes went wide. “You did these poses...in front of her?”

  “Yep. For you.” Dylan opened the door. “To entice you. Thought I’d take the sexual arousal route.”

  Mick cleared his throat. “Might work if I see some hot female on female action.”

  “Pictures fifteen though eighteen.”

  Mick quickly turned to Dylan, but he faced the closing door. Dylan had left. He half-stood to follow her, but stopped. He sat back down, looked at his computer. “Nah. She’s joking.” After reaching, he hesitated, started to stand, but stopped again. Halfway back to his chair, Mick clicked on picture fifteen. As the picture revealed itself, his eyes never leaving the screen, Mick missed the chair and toppled knees first to the floor.

  * * *

  Davenport, Iowa

  “Go ahead. Give it to me.” Darrell exhaled as he drove. “I’m higher.”

  “Can’t be,” Jeff argued.

  “I’m telling you. Go on.” Nodding at Jeff, Darrell edged on. “Go on.”

  “Seven forty.” Jeff counted the remaining bills in his wallet. “You?”

  “Seven fifty-five.” Darrell said. “Told you I lost more.”

  “We should have never come back here.”

  “But we won when we came here before Kansas.”

  “So does that mean we really lost?” Jeff asked. “I mean, if we won four days ago, and we lost all but fifty back, we didn’t lose.”

  A bright smile hit Darrell. “My friend, I feel much better.”

  “You should. Whew.” Jeff chuckled. “And here I was going to get upset.”

  “Damn, we are doing good this trip.”

  “We are. Still ahead.” Jeff replaced his wallet in his pocket.

  “I was concerned, you know, with our next stop. But now I’m up for it. You?”

  “Very much so,” Jeff said. “Doing a surveillance on that casino owner for a week isn’t a bad deal.”

  “He may know about Rodriguez.”

  “They do suspect him of being the banker,” Jeff added.

  “Actually, our man Rodriguez, A.K.A., David Lappula, Arthur Stiller, Winston Hillchurch...�
� Darrell listed.

  “And don’t forget Chen Yung.”

  “Can’t forget that identity,” Darrell continued. “He may actually be with ‘Casino Man’.”

  “And if he isn’t, I’m never one to complain about seeing Reno.”

  “Me either.” Darrell let out an excited breath as he drove, just a little faster. “Man, you have to love this job.”

  “I do.” Jeff smiled widely. “As long as we aren’t in Ohio.”

  * * *

  Andapa Village

  Madagascar, Africa

  Poco was the name Lars Rayburn had given the fifteen-year old boy when he had taken him under his wing three years earlier. He was abandoned by his family, labeled evil, and left to die after a botched attempt to physically exhume the demon intertwined in his gut.

  The boy’s name wasn’t really Poco; what it was, Lars didn’t know. The boy never corrected him and the new name stuck.

  Poco was bright, smart, and finally happy again. But he couldn’t talk, nor could he write. He had lost not only his hands, but his tongue as well when severe gangrene caused their amputation at the young age of five. Gangrene resulting from a form of Bubonic plague, a common occurrence in Madagascar.

  “Ohio,” Lars spoke slowly to Poco. “Form the word with your mouth. Ohio.”

  Poco did.

  “Now I tell you this every year. I am going back to Ohio.” Lars smiled. “Remind me to play you that song.”

  Poco tilted his head with a smile.

  “Mrs. Dune will watch you. You know to monitor my animals, correct?”

  Poco nodded.

  “She won’t go into that back room. She says it smells. Remember that any paper the machine spits out, you hide.”

  Poco gave a thumbs up.

  Lars walked to his dresser and pulled out clothes. “Not taking much. I have items in Ohio. They’ll be dusty though.” He walked the clothes to his suitcase. “I tried, you know, to get clearance to take you with me, but the government wouldn’t approve it. I’ll bring you back something.”