“That’s not what you said when we didn’t use correct attributions in class essays. And for all I know you’re trying to poison me.”
He sighed. “The boxes are sealed, brand new. My brother worked at Portico Pharmacy. He had access to various medications after the outbreak.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Lilianna, we made certain items available, for a price. But I’m not interested in the money any longer.”
“How does your brother feel about this donation?” I frowned, not bothering to hide my mistrust.
“He’s dead,” he said matter-of-factly. “You’ve always been effective at community service. If anyone can distribute medicine to those in need, it’s you.”
He coughed then, and I noticed the beads of sweat on his forehead.
“Oh,” I said, backing away. “You’re sick.”
“Yes. In my defense, I called before the symptoms appeared. When my brother died, I had a feeling this was inevitable. The antiviral might have slowed the illness down, but it’s not enough. I thought if I could make things right before—”
“You need to leave. Now.”
“Of course.” He started down the front stoop, pausing after two steps so that we were eye to eye. “Lilianna . . . can you forgive me?”
I thought of my life before, of the emotional wreckage he’d caused. Part of me wanted to rise above the anger, to feel empathy and compassion.
But I couldn’t. My heart was a block of ice, frozen inside my chest.
“No,” I said. “And my forgiveness wouldn’t be enough to save you.”
I slammed the door and locked it. Then I took the shopping bag and hurled it as far as I could. The blue boxes skittered across the floor.
My adrenaline and fear left me shaken. But giddiness bubbled inside, too. I had faced him, my worst nightmare, and I was safe. The confrontation hadn’t killed me. He was gone.
My parents would be so proud. And wait until Megs heard about this!
No. I slumped against the door, overwhelmed as the grief battered me all over again. Would I ever get used to her absence or Dad’s death?
I needed to talk to someone before the emotion consumed me, someone who understood my history. When the shaking finally stopped, I dialed my therapist. On the third ring, her answering machine kicked in. “This is Dr. Gwen,” she said in a strained voice. “Due to illness, I’m not currently returning calls. You can leave non-urgent messages after the beep.”
I hung up, then crashed onto the couch. I didn’t want to think that Dr. Gwen was dead, too. I stared at the blank TV screen for a long time before finally switching on the news. New Jersey was in the spotlight and things had gone from bad to worse while we’d been without electricity. The death count was now in the tens of thousands. There was an urgent need for more refrigerated trucks to hold dead bodies until the morgues could catch up. Vaccine production, while further along, was still months away. I flicked channels through various dire reports until I found a debate about antivirals. They were at a premium and it was unclear how the existing supply would be distributed.
“All citizens between fifteen and fifty are at risk,” one expert announced. “So, who gets it first? Pregnant women? People with preexisting conditions, like asthma? But we can’t expect the emergency system to work if those on the front lines aren’t protected. Not only doctors and nurses but EMT volunteers, police, and firefighters are expected to help the ill. With the flu so easily transmitted, is it fair to ask them to do so without some kind of protective measures?”
Two other experts weighed in with their conflicting opinions until a shouting match erupted and I turned the TV off.
I had medicine now. Lots of it. Some to save, others to give away. Boxes that people would die for littered my floor. Somehow it needed to be distributed safely.
Were those voices outside? I quickly gathered the antiviral and crammed it into the safe. I took the long way back to Jay’s house, feeling more secure the closer I got. I couldn’t risk running into the looters again.
I used the time walking to think about the antiviral. The obvious answer was to hand the medicine over to the police. But as I played the scenario out in my mind, it wasn’t that simple. The police were sure to question where it came from. Mentioning Mr. B would create a whirlwind that I didn’t want to be caught up in. Reporting what happened between us once had been enough. I wouldn’t be forced to share those memories with strangers yet again.
So I couldn’t mention Mr. B and his pharmacy-stealing brother. I wasn’t an accomplished enough liar to convince the cops that the stuff had just appeared on my doorstep, and I’m sure they wouldn’t let such a vague answer slide. If only Mrs. Salerno were alive.
Turning the boxes over to the police was out.
As I walked down the street, an ambulance drove by with no sirens on, a black ribbon tied to the antennae to indicate the emergency squad was transporting dead bodies. The EMTs needed the antiviral. So did a lot of other people. It was a complicated issue.
As I neared Jay’s house, I realized that the antiviral needed to go to someone respected in Portico, someone who could make the best decision about passing the medicine along to those who needed it most.
I knew who to ask. But I needed Cam and Ty to be completely better first.
When I arrived at Jay’s house, he met me in the yard. “Where are the kids?”
Goosebumps prickled my arms. “What do you mean? They’re here with you.”
“No, I sent them to you,” he said, holding open the front door. Even from the entrance, I could see that his house was trashed worse than my own. “Looters. I saw them coming, a big rowdy group of them. I sent the kids to your house to keep them safe.”
His mouth was in a tight line, his fear quiet but contagious.
“They never . . .” I whispered, almost unable to finish the thought. “They never made it to my house.”
CHAPTER 27
Life insurance companies are too understaffed to deal with the substantial number of fatalities. “We try to process a claim for, say, a dead wife, but often when we call back for further information, the husband has died, too. It’s a logistical nightmare.”
—Blue Flu interview, Global Insurance agent
You were supposed to let me know when you were on your way back,” Jay said.
“I forgot. My mother called and . . .” I didn’t want to mention Mr. B.
“But I told them to run to you,” he said, shaking his head. “I was still inside getting my mom’s jewelry when the looters began trashing the place. I waited in the attic until they left. Where could Ty and Cam be?”
Panic coursed through me. How could they be missing? Did the looters kidnap them? When Jay exploded into action, I followed right behind.
“Ty! Where are you?” he shouted, rushing into the empty street.
“Cam!” I joined in. “Cam!”
“You didn’t see them on the way here?” he asked, glancing frantically around. “You should have passed each other.”
“I took the long way around the block. I had to think—”
“What if the looters found them?”
“Cam! Ty!” My voice shook as I called louder. “They have to be safe,” I said. “They have to be. They would run away or hide.”
“But what if—”
“Wait.” A half-formed thought nagged at my consciousness. “A hiding spot—”
“You’re right,” Jay interrupted. “Let’s go.” He grabbed my hand and we ran to the overgrown maple in silence, too anxious to speak.
When we reached the cave-tree, I expected to hear voices. The silence shattered my courage. I couldn’t bear it if we were wrong and the kids were gone.
“You go first,” I said.
Jay ducked under the branches.
I held my breath.
Right when I thought my knees would buckle, that I would collapse from the panic, Cam squealed and Ty yelped. And then I was there with them, hugging and crying. We were together
, safe under the leafy branches.
For once it felt like enough.
After salvaging what supplies they could from their damaged house, Jay, Ty, Mrs. Hernandez, and Cam all moved in with me. It was weird to see Jay’s aunt outside of school. But everyone agreed that it would be safer if we stayed together. Ty and Jay moved into the guest room, and Mrs. Hernandez slept on the couch on the nights she wasn’t working. All of us had taken the antiviral now, and I saved a few packs, just in case.
Reggie managed to get his own prescription from a retired doctor friend. We asked him to move in with us, but he wasn’t interested. “I’ve got a gun,” he said. “And I’m not afraid to use it. Let those looters try me.” So he stayed at his home but checked in often with us.
On Wednesday morning, he stopped by and offered to take Cam and Ty for a few hours. Cam, who wasn’t sleeping well at night, wanted to know if the Senior Center was safe.
“It will be OK,” Reggie assured her. “Ty will come with us.”
“Maybe we should stay home,” she said.
But Ty had heard all about the cookies. “Let’s go for a little while,” he said. “I’m hungry. And I bet they have something fun for you to do there, too. Do old people like to dance?”
“As a matter of fact, they do,” Reggie said. “The ladies love line dancing. They stand in a row and do the same steps together.”
“I bet I can teach them some moves!” Cam said, grabbing her sneakers.
“Maybe I’ll come along, too,” I said, swinging my backpack over my shoulder.
“Sure thing, Miss Lil.”
Once Cam and Ty were occupied with a group of seniors, it didn’t take me long to find Mrs. Templeton, who was settling a dispute over the TV channel.
“Take turns,” she scolded two elderly men. “You each get half an hour.”
“I need to speak with you.” I glanced around. “Is there someplace quiet we can talk?”
“Is there a problem?”
“An opportunity.”
“This way, then.”
I followed her down the hall to a private office. My hands were sweating, which was ridiculous. I had dealt with a lot worse people than Mrs. Templeton.
“Is it more orphans?” she asked. “They’re forming a formal disaster committee soon, you know. The town officials can probably handle it now. Some of the seniors here weren’t thrilled about being exposed to germy little kids.”
I answered by opening my backpack and dumping a pile of antiviral boxes onto her desk.
“Good Lord,” she said. “How did you—”
“I can’t say how these came to me, but I promise I didn’t do anything illegal.”
“You could sell them for a lot of money. Enough to help with your college tuition in a few years.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” I said. “Someone needs to handle their distribution or else get the medicine to the police.”
“Not you?”
“It’s beyond me. You’re the former mayor. You have the clout to handle this, and you’ll make sure the right thing gets done.”
“Yes,” she said. “I will.” Her face was solemn.
“Thank you.” I took my empty backpack and turned to go.
“Thank you, Lilianna. Now let’s hope the kids aren’t eating all the damn cookies.”
We generally tried to stay inside as much as possible. But when I got home from the Senior Center, Jay agreed to come with me on an errand. We decided riding our bikes was safer than walking and we kept watch for looters along the way.
“Turn left here?” he asked at Maple Street.
I nodded. We slowed down by Cam’s house, but it looked deserted. Then we were at our destination: Kayla’s.
I might have chickened out if I were alone. What did Kayla and I have to say to each other after all that had happened between us? Jay waited on the street a few houses away as I rang the bell. When I glanced back at him nervously, he gave me a thumbs-up.
Kayla’s mother answered the door. She had always been tiny but seemed to have shrunk even more. “Hi, Lil. This is a surprise. We don’t get many visitors these days.”
“I’m sorry about Justin.”
“After we lost him . . . Kayla’s taking it hard.”
“Can I see her?”
“She’s too sick to come to the door, but you can go to her if you want.”
I made my way to the second room on the left. I knocked lightly before entering. Kayla lay in bed but didn’t roll over when I entered the room.
“Kayla,” I whispered.
She moved slowly onto her side to face me. Her long black hair was matted against her head and her eyes were puffy.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hi.”
“You’ll catch it from me.”
“I’ve been exposed before, but I’ll stand over here,” I said, keeping my distance. I rocked back and forth on my heels, not sure how to begin. “I’m, um, sorry for slapping you. I needed to tell you that.”
“And I should have been a better friend. None of that really matters now, does it?” She tried to raise herself, then gave up and rested her head on the pillow. “I’m sorry, too. You didn’t answer my text about Megs, but I’ve thought about calling you a hundred times.”
I thought I was done with crying, but Kayla was the only other person who really understood about Megs. I couldn’t help myself. I looked away, swiping at my eyes. When I faced her again, she was teary, too.
“And your brother—”
“Things are messed up, huh?”
“Yeah.” Without a big speech, I took out one of the extra antivirals I’d saved and handed it to her. “Here.”
She eyed the medicine like it was a glitzy diamond. “But this is impossible to buy. My parents have been desperate to get it for me. How did you—”
“It’s a long story. But I wanted to help.”
“Thank you.”
“I should go. I hope you feel better, Kayla. I really do.”
With the day’s good deeds behind me, I should have slept great that night. But I didn’t. Cam tossed and turned nearby as I tried to stop the thoughts from swirling in my head. Megs and my father—dead. Jay’s father in jail and his willingness to tell me about him. The lost opportunity to be more than a friend to Jay. Mr. B’s appearance at my door. All of these images whipped around like debris in a tornado until my head pounded and I wanted to scream.
Weariness suddenly overcame me. Then I decided.
I would tell him.
I would tell Jay about Mr. B.
CHAPTER 28
A well-known movie exec is reportedly planning an influenza-based love story titled Swoon. “It’s Titanic meets Contagion,” he said. But several actors he contacted to play the lead roles were too sick to consider any projects in the near future.
—Blue Flu interview, Hollywood insider
The next morning, I woke up tired but resolute. Being honest with Jay about Mr. B was the right thing to do. The tricky part was finding a way to talk to him privately. I thought I got my chance when Mrs. Hernandez took the kids to the playground, but then Jay distracted me.
“I’ve been thinking about expanding my blog,” he said. “I thought I’d add a section for good deeds, so we could describe how we’ve helped people. I’ll link it to the thank-you messages. And I heard from Elsa again. She’s continued her animal crusade. With all the depressing news, it might be nice for people to read something positive. We’ve had tons of hits from all over the US.”
“That’s a great idea. But don’t mention where we got the original food that we distributed.” Although much of the school’s food drive items were gone, we were finally able to place an order through an online grocery site and Jay’s aunt had brought home supplies, so the pantry stayed full.
Just as I was working up the courage to tell Jay my secret, Cam and Ty tore through the house, crashing up the stairs and running into the office. They practically glowed with good health.
“I won!” Ty said. “I got here first!”
Cam followed on his heels. “You cheated.”
“How was the park?” Jay asked.
“Fun, but now Auntie has to go to work,” Ty said.
“We’re bored,” Cam said. “Can you play with us?”
There went my opportunity to speak to Jay alone. The rest of the afternoon was a combination of video games, Hangman, and a dance contest with Jay, Ty, and me as judges. Cam performed as the sole contestant and won first place.
It wasn’t until the kids were asleep that Jay and I had some uninterrupted time. I waited on the family room couch, ready, until he turned on the TV.
“My favorite show is on tonight,” he said. “Chef Adventure.”
I huddled under a throw blanket.
“You have to see this. It’s a cooking show under extreme conditions. One time the chefs had to find bugs as their main ingredient before cooking them as part of a gourmet jungle meal.”
“That’s beyond gross.” Suddenly tired, I struggled to stay awake during the program, waiting for a chance to talk with Jay. I had delayed it too long. Now I needed to get it over with.
The show lasted an hour. The episode took place on a mountain and the aerial shots made me dizzy. I breathed a sigh of relief when it finally ended.
Jay trailed behind me as I carried our water glasses to the sink. This was finally my chance to tell him about Mr. B. My cheeks flushed as I turned to face him. If only he wasn’t standing close enough for me to see the different shades of brown specks in his eyes. It would be so easy to step forward, put my arms around him. Maybe words were overrated.
But I had to try.
“I wanted to tell you . . .”
“What?” he asked.
But my courage seemed to evaporate into the air. “Um, I wanted to tell you that I’m really worried about my mom. I wish I knew for sure that she’s all right.”
“The waiting sucks,” he agreed.
“What if she doesn’t make it home?”
“I don’t know, Lil.” He lifted his hand as if to caress me, then seemed to think better of it. “Sorry,” he said, dropping his arm to his side. “I forgot you don’t like to be touched.”
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