Pandemic

by Ventresca, Yvonne

  I couldn’t exactly call the airport looking for Mom, so I decided to focus on Dad. Holed up in the office, I called Patient Services again. The line was still busy.

  Next, I used my cell phone to find the number for the Delaware police department near where Dad had been staying. I explained the situation to the officer who answered.

  “You need to call Patient Services.”

  I sighed. “I tried that a bunch of times and haven’t been able to get through. Can I file a missing person report?”

  “He was part of the quarantine.” His voice sounded doubtful. “So he’s not really missing.”

  “I haven’t heard from him in twenty-four hours. Doesn’t that count?”

  “With spotty phone service, that’s not unusual. He might be hard to track down. Any living quarantine patients were divided between two different hospitals and those hospitals are using additional overflow areas.”

  “Please,” I said. “Can you tell me the hospital names and how to reach the overflow areas?”

  “If Patient Services can confirm he’s alive, call me back. But you need the confirmation first.”

  “Thank you.”

  It took eighteen more tries, but I finally got through.

  “I’m trying to find information about my father, Keith Snyder. He was part of the Salina Hotel quarantine, but I don’t know where he is now.”

  “Spell the name,” the woman said in a weary voice.

  As I spelled it, I heard the click-clack of typing.

  “How old are you, honey?”

  “Sixteen,” I said.

  “I’m sorry, but we can’t give any information out to a minor.”

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry, but—”

  “Don’t hang up! My mom was resting, but I’ll wake her.”

  I partially covered the phone.

  “Mom, I know you don’t feel well, but can you talk to this lady?” I said to the empty room, feeling ridiculous but desperate. “It’s about Dad.”

  Then I put my Mom-self on the phone and tried to make my voice different.

  “Hello? Do you have information about my husband, Keith Snyder?”

  “Can you confirm the spelling of the name?”

  “It’s K-E-I-T-H S-N-Y-D-E-R.”

  “Middle name?”

  “Frederick.”

  Silence. A small cough. “I’m sorry, ma’am, to give you this news over the phone. Keith Frederick Snyder is dead.”

  “No!” I cried.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “We can mail a death certificate to the address on his driver’s license. You’ll need it for insurance purposes.”

  “And his body?” I whispered.

  “Everyone from the quarantine was cremated. A mandatory safety precaution. You can retrieve his ashes and personal belongings after processing in—” I heard her flipping through some papers—“five more days.”

  I held it together long enough to carefully write down the address and other information she gave me. But when I hung up, I couldn’t contain my sobs any longer. Megs had lost her dad. Now I had lost mine. I rested my head on his desk, not even bothering to cradle it in my hands.

  Grief overwhelmed me. If Megs’s death was like losing part of myself, with news of Dad’s death the very ground beneath me vanished. Life seemed suddenly impossible without him.

  How could it be that he’d never hug me again, never share our secret eye roll over Mom’s cooking, never give me advice I didn’t want to hear? Dad planned to take me for my road test, to walk me down the aisle on my wedding day. He needed to explain infectious diseases and other scary things in his clear, factual manner.

  I ached for his physical presence, his sturdiness, his inner calm. My world was disintegrating bit by bit, with each person I loved being taken from me. Heaviness settled in my chest, as if boulders piled on top of my center. No matter how I shifted, the weight remained.

  I stayed in his office, hoping it was all a big mistake, praying for a miracle. If only Mom was home.

  And what if she was gone, too? I’d be totally alone—an orphan like Cam.

  She was still at Jay’s, probably missing me. I blew my nose, washed my face, and tried to summon strength from the little actions before leaving to get her.

  Poor Cam. The only person she had right now was me, which wasn’t much. I promised myself then and there that I would take care of her. She had no one. And Dad would want me to. It would have made him proud.

  I trudged to Jay’s under a somber sky. Animals had knocked over several garbage cans, chewing through the bags and leaving a trail of trash in the street. The air smelled rotten.

  An animal squeaked nearby. Rats could carry parasites, plague, and other diseases. Dad would be able to name them all. I wiped at my eyes as I kept going.

  When I arrived at Jay’s house, no one answered my knock. I let myself in, greeted by silence. “Jay?”

  “In here,” he said.

  His tone sounded odd. It sounded afraid.

  Trembling, I moved as if I were treading water with heavy boots on. I followed his voice, slogging my way toward the bathroom.

  Jay kneeled over two small bodies in the bathroom as if he were praying. They both lay on towels, pale and sweating.

  Ty and Cam had the flu.

  CHAPTER 24

  How the **** can we fix the ****ing power outages if everyone’s too sick to show up for work? What the **** do I look like, a ****ing magician?”

  —Blue Flu interview, senior manager, Jersey United Power

  No.

  I stared in shock at Ty and Cam, lying on the bathroom floor. First Megs, then Dad. What if Ty and Cam didn’t make it? I couldn’t take any more death. I just couldn’t.

  Jay moved to make room for me, kneeling next to the kids with his head in his hands.

  “Why didn’t you call me?” I asked.

  “I was afraid to leave them. It came on fast.”

  I wanted to tell him about Dad, but I couldn’t break down again. I needed to stay calm, to hold it together.

  “Lil?” Cam said, trying to sit up.

  I squatted next to her. “Lie down and rest. I’ll stay right here with you.” I pushed a sweaty lock of hair from her eyes, trying not to panic.

  “Did you give them any medicine?” I asked Jay.

  “Children’s ibuprofen an hour ago. But they’re still feverish.”

  “Should we get them to the hospital?” I whispered.

  “I called my aunt. It’s impossible. The rooms are full. They set up tents, ‘surge capacity,’ she called it, and those are overflowing, too. She said she’d come home soon.”

  “She can’t get them in?”

  “If we could get them into the damn hospital don’t you think I would have done it already? What are you, stupid?!”

  I retreated as much as I could from him in the crowded bathroom. “Stupid enough to put up with you!”

  “Sorry, I’m sorry.” He put his hands to his temples as if he had a tremendous headache. “I can’t let anything happen to Ty. I promised her. I promised.”

  “It’s OK,” I said softly. “Where are the washcloths?”

  “The hall closet.”

  I retrieved two, rinsed them with cold water, rung them out, then placed them gently on Ty’s and Cam’s foreheads.

  “Mmmm,” Ty mumbled.

  “Why don’t you take a break,” I told Jay. “I’ll sit with them. Maybe you could call Reggie? We should warn the people at the Senior Center that they may have been exposed. TK’s family, too.”

  “At this point everyone’s been exposed.”

  “Please?”

  “All right,” he said.

  I rolled towels to put under the kids’ heads. Without electricity for a fan, the bathroom felt stuffy. I knelt by them, stroking their arms, first Cam, then Ty, then Cam again. They both seemed on the verge of sleep. That could be their bodies resting to repair themselves. Or it could be their systems shutting down.r />
  Ty moaned. “It hurts. It really hurts.”

  “What hurts?”

  “All of me.” He moaned again. “Can you take me to the prison?”

  “What?”

  Ty’s eyes were glassy, his face flushed with fever. “I need to go there. I need to go to the prison.”

  “Um, OK. After you get better we’ll go,” I said. That calmed his babbling.

  Cam coughed, a hacking sound. It reminded me of Dad on the phone. But I couldn’t think about him now, couldn’t worry that everyone I loved would soon be gone.

  Logic told me to keep replacing the cool cloths on their foreheads. But my emotions were like a broken merry-go-round, spinning in frantic circles, unable to stop. Don’t let them die. Don’t let them die.

  Cam stirred. “Mommy?”

  “It’s Lil. Jay and I are taking care of you.”

  But if the hospital couldn’t save Megs or Dad, how could Jay and I save the kids?

  She closed her eyes again. I adjusted the washcloths, rubbed their cheeks, did everything I could to feel helpful. Don’t let them die.

  Jay checked on us every few minutes.

  “We should move them,” he said a little later. “There’s not enough air in here. The family room couch opens into a bed. I’ll put on sheets and pillows. And my aunt said to make a rehydration solution.”

  I barely heard what he was saying. Don’t let them die. I was so focused on Ty and Cam that it took me awhile to realize that he didn’t return.

  “Jay?” I called softly, afraid to wake them.

  He didn’t answer.

  I knew he was right, that the kids would be better in a room with windows. Cam felt frail and weightless in my arms as I carried her to the family room.

  And there was Jay, pale and lifeless, sprawled across the pullout bed.

  I would have screamed if it wasn’t for Cam. This can’t be happening! It can’t be!

  After gently placing Cam next to him, I ran to get Ty. I hovered over the three of them, rearranging pillows, replacing washcloths. I opened the window hoping the breeze would clear my head. All three of them were sick. Their survival depended on me now.

  Once I found the instructions for the rehydration solution on the kitchen counter, I measured a triple dose: twelve cups of boiled water, six tablespoons of sugar, and one-and-half teaspoons of salt. I stirred everything together, then tried to get each of them to drink it. Cam and Ty got about half of it down, but Jay would barely raise his head. I rummaged through the kitchen, found a crazy straw, and finally got him to drink. It didn’t feel like enough, though. If only I had stronger medicine—

  The antiviral! Why didn’t I think of it sooner? It was my best chance to save them.

  I hated to leave them alone, but getting the medicine for them would be worth it. “I’ll be back soon,” I said to the dozing bodies.

  I sprinted the whole way. Thankfully, I didn’t see anyone. Back at home, my hand shook as I quickly opened the safe. The two boxes were still there. One for Mom, one for Dad. I grabbed them, realizing bleakly that it was too late for Dad. Should I save a box for Mom? But who knew when Mom would make it back. Jay, Ty, and Cam were sick right now. My parents would want me to help them.

  Two boxes. Three sick people. If I had to choose . . . but no. I would divide the two boxes evenly. They would take less medicine each, but it had to be better than nothing.

  I shoved the medicine in my backpack, along with some extra soup and bottled water. At the doorway, I caught my breath, trying to calm my many fears: getting sick, witnessing their deaths, dying myself.

  Then it occurred to me that I didn’t have to leave the security of home; I didn’t have to immerse myself in the contagious flu; I didn’t have to run down the street alone. I could stay right where I was, safe from the virus, safe from death. Jay’s aunt would be home soon enough to care for them.

  Stalling, I weighed the choices. Security or danger?

  It was tempting to choose the cautious option. I had spent the last months trying to protect myself from every possible threat that I could think of, real or imagined. Self-preservation had become a way of life for me since the Mr. B incident.

  But I finally thought of something worse than dying from the flu: living through it by being selfish. Yes, I wanted to survive, but at what price? My heart thudded, ready for fight or flight. But I was not ready to sit at home. I pictured Jay, Ty, and Cam waiting for me. I imagined them turning blue.

  I threw the backpack over my shoulder, locked the door, started to run. Sweat dripped down my face from the exertion. I was harried, careless. And when I rounded the bend, I ran right into a pair of looters.

  CHAPTER 25

  The funeral parlors have a waitlist. Coffins are impossible to obtain and the cemetery workers can’t keep up with the grave digging. Death is a business for some of us, and right now the demand for services far exceeds the supply.

  —Blue Flu interview, funeral home director

  Two men in their twenties left the house closest to me with bulky pillowcases slung over their shoulders, like a pair of evil Santa Clauses. Before I could react, one dropped his haul and rushed to block my path. He had slicked-back hair and stood close enough for me to smell his hair gel.

  “Hey,” he said.

  Danger crackled in the air between us. I couldn’t let him take the medicine. I glanced around for someone or something to help me. Already winded, I couldn’t outrun them. There was nowhere to go. No weapon to fight with. My mind raced to come up with a plan.

  I was totally screwed.

  His friend picked up the second pillow case and stood by his side. He leered at me, revealing perfectly white teeth.

  “Where are you going in such a hurry?” Perfect Teeth asked.

  I clutched the straps on my pack with shaky hands. If I opened my mouth to speak, I might puke.

  “The quiet type, huh? You should hang with us for awhile,” Hair Gel said. “Talking is overrated. And you look fun.”

  He said this to my chest, leaving no doubt what kind of fun he meant. With Mr. B, the fear crept up on me before I knew why. But now, the terror slammed into me head on.

  Perfect Teeth took a step closer. “And she’s pretty, too.”

  I thought about screaming. Who would possibly come to my rescue? Pins and needles invaded my hands. Sweat dripped into my eyes. I couldn’t move, afraid to let go of my backpack to wipe the drops away. I thought of Jay, Ty, and Cam waiting helplessly for me, dying.

  I had to get away. I breathed in, prepared to scream, but my throat was too dry and all I managed was a loud cough. It gave me an idea. I coughed again, doing my best to make it sound flulike. Summoning the courage to move, I wiped my forehead in a dramatic motion and found my voice.

  “Been sick for three days. I don’t have much time.”

  Perfect Teeth backed away first, then Hair Gel.

  I forced myself to cough again, doubled over from the nausea. That part didn’t need faking, and I clutched my stomach and moaned.

  They moved away, quickly, leaving me alone.

  “Good luck, girl,” Hair Gel called over his shoulder.

  I lumbered toward Jay’s, still pretending to be sick, willing myself not to look back. Finally, I was safely inside.

  Jay, Ty, and Cam hadn’t moved in my absence. It took me a good ten minutes to calm down enough to decipher the antiviral dosage instructions. The capsules were meant for adults and I could only guess what Cam and Ty weighed. Finally, I took one capsule and broke it open, giving each kid half of it mixed with some apple sauce. Jay seemed delirious but managed to swallow a pill with water.

  Jay’s aunt called. She had become sick, too, and could barely speak. She couldn’t help me. When night came, I thought about changing the sheets on her bed and sleeping there. But each time I left to go upstairs, fear gripped my heart, and I returned five minutes later, terrified that Jay, Cam, or Ty would die during the night. I finally moved a kitchen chair across from the mos
t comfortable seat near the pullout couch and propped up my feet. I didn’t sleep much in my pseudo-bed. Jay, Cam, and Ty took turns groaning and whimpering throughout the night. In the morning, they didn’t seem any better.

  I tended to the three of them all day with medicine, rehydration solution, and cool wash cloths. Please get better, I whisper-prayed about a thousand times. If Ty died, Jay would never forgive me. If Cam died, I would never forgive myself. If Jay died . . .

  I couldn’t imagine it. Jay wasn’t the guy from the smoking corner anymore or Megs’s mystery date or the object of Kayla’s desire. He was Jay who adored his brother, who talked a lot but not too much, who stood by me during the past horrific days. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when I memorized the sound of his sigh, the glint of a silver filling when he laughed, the details of his hands.

  Megs, I’m sorry. I like Jay. I really like him. He’s a good person, and if he feels the same way we could make each other happy.

  If we managed to survive the pandemic.

  At least I was there with him. I wondered if Dad had died alone. The thought made me weepy. His death still felt surreal, as if it were a bad dream and hadn’t really happened.

  But it had. I knew at some point I would have to retrieve his ashes, but the logistics seemed impossible now. How could I get to Delaware? How could I be strong enough to face that trip without Mom?

  And where was she? I checked my phone again, but there was no word from her.

  There was, instead, one text from Kayla. I hesitated before reading it. Her nastiness was the last thing I needed. Finally, I gave in and opened it.

  Kayla: I just heard about Megs. So sorry. We had good times together, didn’t we?

  I sucked in my breath. That might be the closest we had come to making peace with each other. Was it possible she hadn’t known about Megs earlier? In all the craziness, I guess it was. I thought about replying, but what I could possibly say after she threatened to tell Jay about Mr. B?

  Then Jay moaned in pain and nothing else mattered.