by Maira Dawn
But she wasn't sure. Skye nibbled the inside of her cheek. It seemed like there was more to this case than Tom mentioned on the phone, and he wanted her to know about it.
4
Ohio
The next afternoon, while getting ready to meet Tom, Skye hummed to herself feeling the glow of a job well done. She had just wrapped up a session with a young girl who was making excellent progress, and that put her in a great mood.
As she made her way out of the waiting area, she stopped to talk to her assistant, Caroline. Skye’s gaze scanned her desk. The best employee Skye had ever had, Caroline had a serious attachment to an amazing array of knickknacks, all of which littered the tall reception area. Skye moved aside a small snow globe that held a miniature range of mountains with a tiny rustic cabin teetering on the top of one peak. The slogan "Mountaineers are always Free" scrolled across its midnight blue base. Skye leaned over the high counter and reminded herself that the kids loved them.
It was Caroline's usual habit to listen for Skye's arrival, to be helpful before Skye realized she needed help, but today she didn't even turn around when Skye tipped over one of her precious baubles. Caroline's eyes were glued to her computer screen.
Skye cleared her throat and said, "Caroline, I wanted to mention--" Caroline almost knocked over her chair as she clenched at her heart. Both women gave a nervous, little laugh.
"I am so sorry, Caroline!" Skye said, her own hand on her chest.
"Oh my goodness! Ms. Jackson! I apologize! I never do this. It was just... this is just so crazy!" Caroline said in a flustered rush, as she pointed to the computer screen.
"Please, Caroline, call me Skye," she reminded her again. But Caroline had returned to the monitor, and Skye talked to the back of her head. "What are you watching?"
"Just so you know, I don't surf the web while I'm working, I really don't. But my friend called at break and said I had to see this video as soon as possible. She was right. This is crazy!"
"Is it the one that happened here, right outside town?"
"What? No. Thank the Lord! This was up in Ohio."
A tingle trailed Skye's spine. "Can I watch too?"
Caroline turned the monitor so Skye could see, but she soon wished the receptionist hadn't. Skye felt the hair lift from the back of her neck, and nausea start in the pit of her stomach. "What is going on?" she murmured.
"I've never heard of anything like this except rabies, and we hear of some odd things in these hills," Caroline’s quiet, serious tone suggested how strange some of those things could be. Caroline shivered.
Her words fired up Skye's already frenzied imagination, and she had to drag her attention back to the screen. A mother cried bitter tears in the semi-blurred background. A white ambulance with blood-red striping down its side, its bright lights flashing, sat close to the camera.
Two gym-honed emergency workers with masked faces wheeled a gurney between them. A young teenage girl lay on top, restraints binding her. The bands dug into her upper arms and wrists further whitening her skin around them. It was clear she would have been dangerous without them.
The girl's long, blond hair fell in a tangled jumble over the front of the gurney as she thrashed her slim body from one side of the cot to the other. She twisted and turned trying to escape the bands that held her in place.
The girl moved with such force the small wheels of the stretcher lifted off the ground before banging back to the concrete. The paramedics strained as they rolled the gurney along the sidewalk and dodged the girl as she lunged toward first one and then the other.
A wide-eyed, freaked-out newswoman tried to hold it together as she reported the story. Her gaze darted between the camera and the girl on the stretcher as she told the news story. The girl, she stated, had been ill for a few days with cold and flu symptoms. A frantic, mother had reported a dramatic change today.
Known by all in the neighborhood to be a respectful, cheery teenager, the girl had become angry, screeching and ranting, often making no sense. As the day wore on she became physically aggressive, striking then kicking and biting her mother. As the newscaster looked over at the girl, she shuddered before droning on.
The gurney started and stopped several times as it bumped over the uneven sidewalk making its way closer to the camera. The young girl continued to thrash on the stretcher between the two paramedics, her mouth snapping open and shut, open and shut again and again. She was wild as she struggled to attack the two men.
The paramedics were now at the back the emergency vehicle, turning the gurney to enter the ambulance. For the first time, Skye could see the girl's entire face. Her hands clenched the lip of Caroline's desk.
Wild, distant eyes. Blue lips. Bloody foam spewed from her open mouth.
The girl's hands jerked against the bands that held her. Blue-tipped fingers curled inward and clenched. Her body started to convulse. The violent quaking quickened as the paramedics slid her into the ambulance.
The girl's mother followed the gurney, hands to her face, sobbing. Blood ran down her shoulders and arms from open wounds.
The girl had been vicious. These were not only bites, but large patches of torn, hanging skin.
Skye stood transfixed, her breath refusing to come. This disease which had been strange yesterday had just turned terrifying.
No! It can't be ... could it? The girl is just like the man! One would be unusual but two people with rabies in little more than twelve hours?
Skye turned away unable to watch any longer. As she moved away from Caroline's desk, the newscaster continued to report. "According to the hospital, this is the tenth case of this mysterious illness in this part of Ohio."
Skye's jaw dropped, and she stepped back. This part of Ohio? The tenth case? Where else had this 'mysterious illness' been seen?
5
Tell Me
At two o'clock, the coffee shop was quiet as was usual this time of the day. The lunch crowd had been and gone, and it wasn't yet time for the three o'clock slump customers. When Skye stepped through the door, the gentle strum of an acoustic guitar coming from the restaurant's speaker and the fresh coffee aroma that cocooned her eased her frayed nerves.
Tom's tall, broad bulk was hard to miss as he leaned on the counter waiting for a barista to complete his order. Arms crossed and a coffee stirrer clamped between his teeth, he nodded his hello.
Skye joined him. A wave to the barista was enough to get her own order started. They knew her well. After picking up their coffees, they found a round, sun-drenched table near the large front window.
Eager for an explanation, especially after the new video, Skye leaned forward. Her elbows rested on the table as she sipped her coffee, letting the bittersweet taste linger on her tongue for a bit longer than necessary. "Tom, what's going on? Tell me. First the video from yesterday, then today I saw an alarming news report from Ohio."
Tom, though, was now reluctant to share what he had invited her here to say. He looked at the floor instead of her, slouching with his back to the window and his long arm stretched out toward his coffee sitting on the table. "Yeah, I heard about that news report," Tom said his voice low.
Skye was quiet, waiting for him to continue. If there was one thing she knew how to do well, it was to wait until someone was ready to talk.
Tom frowned, sighed and looked out the window. "Things are changing, Skye, in a big way."
Skye's eyes widened at his tone. This is serious, like really serious. A band squeezed her heart. "What do you mean?"
Tom rolled a shoulder and took a gulp of his coffee before returning his gaze to her. "This information isn't being released to the public yet. But, you’re family, I want you to know about this. This sickness, nobody seems to understand it or how it came to be. But we're being told it's out of control. A lot of people will get it."
Skye’s breathing picked up and goosebumps trailed down her arms. "Okay. A lot of people? How many is a lot?"
Tom leaned forward, lowering his v
oice. "Most everybody, Skye. Nothing can stop it. Most people who come into contact with it, catch it. And if you catch it, you die.
He wiped a hand across his forehead. "There are cases all across the U.S. The government has been letting on everything's okay, trying to suppress the media reports, but the news is getting out. This disease—it's not stopping. It's just gonna get worse from here on out."
Skye's coffee cup slipped in her numb, sweaty hand. A thousand random questions swirled through her mind, and she fired them at Tom. "But there is a cure, right?"
Tom looked down and tapped his cup on the table a few times. He shook his head "No, like I said, nothing can stop it."
"Are they working on a cure?"
"From what they're telling us, yeah."
"But how long... how long has the sickness been going on?" she stammered.
He scowled. "The first cases appeared about six months ago."
"Tom, the girl was foaming at the mouth! Is this, heaven forbid, some form of... rabies?" Skye's latte was not warming the chill that ran through her.
"That's one of the many rumors going around. I'm hopin not." Tom lowered his head and ran a hand through his hair.
"And they didn't warn anyone?" Skye rubbed her arms. It was hard to believe they wouldn't have done so.
"At first no, for some idiotic reason." He ground out the words. "But at last the pertinent medical community and now the cops."
"And no one knows what this is?" Her voice rose to a higher pitch. I need to calm down. I can’t let my anxiety get the best of me. Skye took a deep breath in and let it out a bit at a time.
"I think someone does, or a few someones do, but they aren't telling us."
Skye paused a moment suspecting there was more. "Why are you telling me?"
Tom lowered his gaze. His chest rose and fell a few times before he spoke.
Skye closed her eyes. Even more bad news is coming.
Tom leaned closer and lowered his voice, his pale blue eyes direct. "Because Skye, you need to get ready. There are a lot more cases out there. People who haven't come to the hospital. They're out there infecting others right now. It's airborne, so it's spreading fast. But if you avoid that, if you get bit, you're gonna get it. Infected people, any of them, are dangerous."
"Bit? You mean everyone becomes like that girl? That's what happens?"
"It's one of the things, yeah."
Skye shuddered as she remembered the news report of the girl. "Is that why you shot the man on the video?"
"Yeah, he headed straight for me. Couldn't risk him passing that on." Sympathy crept into Tom's voice. "And besides, he suffered less that way."
"How so?"
"The end's brutal, I've seen it. Once a person gets it, they're just countin days.” Tom lowered his head and shook it before looking back at Skye. “If this continues as expected, you'll have to stay in. People are gonna get crazier than an outhouse fly as this continues to get out. If a snowstorm's coming, there is a huge run on the store. You need to be ready before the panic hits. We reckon we have a year, at least another six months, before the worst of it. Get your cash out of the bank. Stock up on food and water. So if it comes to it, you won't have to leave the house. This may end up in quarantines and curfews. I just don't know."
Skye reached a hand out to Tom. It's too much, I can't deal with this.
Tom understood what was happening and squeezed Skye's hand. "I know you get anxious, but you need to be ready for anything. Anything, do you understand?"
Her other hand trembled as she gulped her tasteless latte. She stammered, "I- I wouldn't believe this, except that I know you wouldn't pull this kind of elaborate prank on me. Also, I've seen those two videos." Her gaze strayed to the busy street outside the window. Being the one major road through town, it was highly trafficked during the day. Skye wondered how many vehicles would travel it by the end of the year. "Okay, six months. We can use cloth masks to help slow the disease in the meantime, right? Surely the scientists will have discovered a cure by then!"
"Sure, masks will help some, but they aren't going to stop it." Tom frowned and repeated, "Nothing so far has worked. That is what I'm hearing. The incubation period is up to a year. So the best case is, we have a year, but we're training for the worst-case scenario, which is six months. There's no talk about a cure other than to say it's being worked on, and it's not factored into any of our training."
Skye put her head in her shaking hands. She couldn't even begin to comprehend what this might mean, probably would mean not only for her but all humankind.
No cure? There is always a cure! No, this is impossible. This kind of thing doesn’t happen in real life. This is the stuff of books and movies. The fiction you enjoy fearing while curled up with a blanket on your comfy couch. Her anxiety rose until the tinkling bell on the door, and the shop's background music filled her ears canceling out all other sounds. She pulled in a breath and released it to steady her nerves. The comforting aroma of coffee just smelled bitter.
She raised her head, her eyes asking questions that her addled mind couldn't think up yet. "Tom?"
Tom pleaded with her. "Listen. Do what I said. Do it now. I will check on you as soon as I can." Using his stern cop voice, he added, "This is happening. Skye. I know you, don't you ignore it, you hear me?"
Skye nodded yes, but her mind continued to swirl with their conversation. He gave her a hard stare, stood and patted her on the shoulder. "I will call you," he said and walked out of the coffee shop.
Skye dug her medication out of her purse and swallowed a pill. The bangle bracelets on her arm jangled. The jewelry was a reminder of all the caring people in Skye's life, each bracelet given with love and concern. Each meant something special. A gold one entwined with roses, a silver one embedded with diamonds and a simple hand-beaten copper one with the word "Strength" etched on it.
She ran her finger over the word, feeling the edges of the lettering on the smooth metal. This one was from her father. He had given it to her during a dark time in her life. "Skye, baby," he'd told her, “You're strong. Stronger than you know. You can do anything you put your mind to." It had helped her then, and it helped her now as she imagined him and his warm southern drawl saying those loving words.
Skye looked up when her phone alarm rang, reminding her of her next appointment. She grabbed her cell in one hand and her latte in the other, her heels making a sharp tap as she crossed the salmon-colored tile floor. She hurried through the glass door and rounded it, picking up her pace as she went.
Skye saw the man a moment before she ran head-on into his hard chest. Too late to stop, it jolted her almost off her feet. Skye lost her balance and took a few faltering steps as she tried to get it back, her latte splashing across her hand as she did so.
His firm, callused hands reached out and grabbed her upper arms, steadying her and lifting her a bit. Skye's feet left the ground as he put her to the side. She stood there blinking as the man continued on his way, barely breaking his stride. "Ma'am," he said as he passed her, his low voice as rugged as his hands.
Skye glimpsed broad shoulders and dark hair before the man turned the corner. "Sorry!" she called out as she rushed down the sidewalk already thinking about her next appointment. She barely registered what happened.
6
Just Go
Dylan and Wade Cole stood emotionless at the end of a low, sterile hospital bed as the man they called father gasped his last breaths. Green paper gowns haphazardly covered the front of the men’s jeans and t-shirts.
Wade's clenched fists were stuffed deep into the pockets of his worn, faded pants. His light brown hair offset his already ruddy skin which was becoming redder as his emotions built.
Dylan held one tense muscular arm across his body; his other hand raised to his mouth as he chewed a thumbnail. His hospital mask hung uselessly down his chest. It had been years since either had spoken to their father. Didn't want to be around him then, ain't wanting to be near him now. This needs
to be over.
They both stared at their father, who shook and quivered as he lay on the crisp, white sheets. The immense effort it took for him to haul in another breath of air caused the metal bed frame to rattle.
Dylan narrowed his eyes and watched as the sick man clung to what tortured life he had left. Just go. Leave. Thought it a million times. What's one more?
Dylan pressed his lips together a few times before raising a hand to rake through his dark, shaggy hair as he examined the man in the bed.
The damage done by the disease in the last two days had devastated the man. His father’s pale, ashen skin made his blue-tinted lips seem more vibrant than they were. Red-tinged foam bubbled from his mouth with each gurgled breath, trailing over his lips and down the side of his face. His limbs, taut and awkward, were almost unusable.
Dylan felt the old fire stir in the pit of his stomach. The monster he is on the inside has crept to the outside.
He gave a long audible sigh to relieve the turmoil building up and reassured himself that it was all ending now. He raised his gaze to skim over the others laying in the vast, echoing room. Ain't less than a couple hundred here.
These were the lucky ones. The virus within them would spread swiftly, killing them before the week was over. Others would last longer, much longer. Still, these Sick had overwhelmed the town's small doctor's office within days. So, the authorities had closed the school to classes and opened the gym to the ill, no matter the phase of their disease.
At the side of most beds, loved ones gathered around the Sick, gowned and masked in the same green paper. Some offered comfort to the dying while others sobbed into their hands.
Dylan dragged his eyes to his brother standing beside him and saw Wade's harsh, unrelenting gaze on his father. Stone-faced and cold, just like me. It's what he taught us. Dylan turned his own glare back to his father, who now had tears in the corner of his eyes. He shouldn't be surprised.