by Penn Gates
“This is Nix,” Hatfield announces.
Nix looks amused as she studies Lisa with undisguised interest. “You must be Dr. Frankenstein,” she says, jamming her hands into the pockets of her overalls.
Hatfield jerks a thumb in Holden’s direction. “And this is—”
“Name’s Ed Holden, ma’am - not Igor.”
Unexpectedly, Nix laughs. “Good one!”
His joke barely registers with Lisa as she realizes that after traveling with him for over a year, this is the first time she’s heard Holden’s first name. Has she not been paying attention? Surely, the guys must use it now and then - she was probably thinking about viruses at the time.
“I’m Dr. Lisa Terrell of the CDC - The Centers For Disease Control,” Lisa interjects. “Also—” She’s aware that Holden is listening with interest to what she’ll say next. “Also, Science Officer of this Army National Guard unit.”
“The Fearless Microbe Hunter is what the men call her,” Holden volunteers, and Nix laughs again.
Lisa flushes. Another of the squad’s endless, mocking nicknames. She knows she should be used to it by now, but as far as humor goes, she doesn’t seem to speak the same language as they do. But apparently it’s not just a guy thing, because the St Clair woman gets it. Lisa feels more isolated than ever.
Nix suddenly reaches toward the kitchen counter to steady herself. Lisa reacts reflexively, but Hatfield beats her to it.
He pulls out one of the chairs scattered around the scarred wooden table and says to his wife, “C’mon, Nix - take a load off.”
“Ha ha,” she grumbles, but she sits down, and Cash pulls up another chair close to her.
Lisa has a sudden, unexpected lump in her throat. Hatfield is holding Nix’s hand and staring at her in the bone-melting way a man looks at the woman who’s carrying his child. This is something she’ll probably never experience and, for the first time, that fact hurts.
Nix, on the other hand, gives her husband a friendly punch in the shoulder. “I’m fine - quit worrying.”
She shifts her attention to Lisa. “You wanted this chance to talk, doc. So quit wasting my time and start talking.”
Holden pulls out a chair for Lisa. Is his gesture meant to be ironic? Then it occurs to her that he might be mirroring Hatfield’s actions to create a connection.
She seats herself and folds her hands in front of her - but at this critical moment, words suddenly fail her. What on earth can she say to this tough-minded woman that would change her decision?
“You came a long way to see me,” Nix says finally. “When are you going to start telling me why?”
Lisa flushes and curses her thin skin for betraying her. “We’ve been on the road for more than a year looking for a way to wipe out Geezer.”
“Geezer has killed off the older half of the world’s population,” Nix tells her. “At this point, I’d say the virus has got nothing left to attack.”
The St Clair woman was a police detective before the pandemic, Lisa remembers, and she finds herself confronted by a stare like an auger - a technique no doubt perfected in countless interrogations. And it’s very effective. Lisa feels like Nix is drilling into her skull - just to make sure her thoughts match her words.
“Give your power point presentation,” Holden prompts. “You know - the one that convinced me to steal a CDC mobile lab and talk my squad into going AWOL with me.”
“No shit?” Hatfield sounds amused.
“You must have super powers of persuasion,” Nix tells Lisa with a smirk. “Go ahead - convince me.”
This is the moment - maybe the only moment - she’ll have to make her case. Before she can overthink it, she takes the plunge.
“A- Nobody knows how this thing spreads.” Lisa looks first at Nix, then Hatfield, as she speaks. She knows intuitively that it would be a mistake to slight one or the other.
“B - Nobody knows if it can jump to other species,” she continues doggedly.
“And C - Nobody knows exactly what this virus can, or cannot, do.” She rushes on before she can be interrupted. “For instance, the small pox virus can go dormant for long periods of time, waiting for another human host.”
“Like on the blankets passed out to the Indians,” Nix suggests.
“Exactly,” Lisa replies, but she finds herself hesitating to make her final, most shocking point.
Lisa is surprised to feel Holden’s foot nudge hers - a reminder to stick to the plan. Even if it sends this woman into labor? She feels another, less gentle nudge. He’s right. It’s important that Nix - and her husband - understand what the stakes are.
She takes a deep breath. “I believe there’s a real possibility that now it’s killed off everyone with aging cells, Geezer will simply lie in wait for a fresh batch of humans to ripen.”
The words seem to hang in the air - reverberate dolefully like a church bell announcing a funeral.
“Fuck me!” Hatfield whispers.
“Later, dear,” Nix quips, but her dark eyes are stark against her suddenly pale face.
Without warning, she wraps her knuckles on the table. “Are you seriously suggesting that the Geezer virus is going to hang around waiting for kids to hit their mid-thirties?”
“This is an unknown virus - I think it’s attracted to the chemical changes that take place within aging cells.”
Nix winces and closes her eyes.
“What’s up, baby?” Hatfield asks immediately.
Her eyes fly open and she smiles at him. “The little bugger just kicked a field goal.”
“Look - I know this all sounds insane,” Lisa says. “And resources for a rigorous, scientific study are few and far between. The virus itself took care of that.”
“But?” Nix murmurs.
“I’ve looked at hundreds of blood samples taken from Geezer victims. I’ve been reviewing all the literature, and in all honesty, I don’t have enough data for a firm hypothesis on why a few older human beings have beat the odds.”
Lisa speaks directly to Nix now. “It’s obvious you age at a much slower rate than others do. That could explain why your cells are simply not attractive to Geezer. On the other hand, I understand your grandfather didn’t die from Geezer - so perhaps there’s a mutated gene in your family line that confers immunity.”
Lisa rushes to finish up before she loses their attention. “I’ve been told there were also two older people from this area who died of other causes - so it could be something in the environment. I simply can’t answer those questions without research. I have the lab equipment and samples of live Geezer virus - but I have nothing to compare them to.”
“And this is where I’m supposed to volunteer some of my genetic material for your science project,” Nix says quietly. “Well - to do my own power point presentation: A - I’m pregnant so I’m presently off the short list for guinea pigs. B - You’re a total stranger to me so I have no reason to trust you.” She pauses. “C - Therefore, I won’t...full stop.”
Lisa feels a crushing despair, which threatens to push her to the floor. And yet - she can’t fault this woman’s reasoning. She’s dimly aware that Holden is looking at her with concern again. She pulls herself together.
“I respect your decision,” she says thickly. “I admit, I’d probably feel the same if I was in your position.” She rises with what she hopes is dignity.
Hatfield is still sitting by his wife’s side, looking worried. “Are you gonna be okay gettin’ home, Nix?” he asks. “I know how you hate the van.” He brushes her cheek. “Why don’t you relax here and I’ll swing by and grab you after I dump these folks off?”
Lisa sees a momentary desire to surrender on Nix’s face before she bats her husband’s hand away and grins at him. “Quit treating me like a hothouse flower.” She kisses the tip of her finger and then touches the end of his nose. “See you at home, baby - don’t be late for supper.”
Before Lisa follows the two men out the door, she says earnestly, “If you shou
ld need medical assistance, I’ll be happy to help any way I can for as long as we’re in the area - no strings attached.” She turns abruptly and hurries out the door. She doesn’t need eyes in the back of her head to know that Nix St Clair doesn’t believe a word she’s said.
CHAPTER 15: Rescue Party
In the darkness of the teachers’ lounge, Lisa shifts her position on the old naugahyde couch and hopes she doesn’t wake Janet. A couple of years ago, this vintage piece of chrome and plastic might have been a treasure to a hipster looking to furnish a loft in mid-century modern - but it’s a poor substitute for a bed. She’s still exhausted from the rough roads of the journey and the roller coaster of emotions since they’ve reached their destination. Her hopes have been dashed and then revived - only to be crushed again.
From the matching couch on the other side of the room, Janet whispers, “Are you awake, Frau Doktor?”
“I am,” Lisa responds. “I can’t sleep, either.”
Janet’s sympathy is almost visible in the dark room. “You have been upset since you returned. Was your meeting with the older lady not going so well?”
Nix’s pregnancy is the last thing Lisa wants to discuss with Janet. “I guess I didn’t do a very good job of convincing her to participate in my research,” she says aloud.
“That is disappointing,” Janet murmurs. “It is hard to be understanding why she would not do such a simple thing that would help so many others.”
On the other hand, the girl is one of them now. She deserves to know the truth. Lisa takes a deep breath and jumps in. “It turns out our senior survivor is pregnant. She has to think of the baby first.”
Janet is silent for so long, Lisa fears she’s made the wrong call. But when the girl speaks, her words are matter-of-fact, even though here voice quavers a little. “This is not so unusual in our community that an older woman has another child.”
“You’re right, Janet,” Lisa says, determined to be cheerful. “Even in my world, before Geezer, plenty of women waited until their late thirties or early forties to have a child.”
“Why would they do that?” Janet asks, and there’s a genuine curiosity in the question.
“Starting a career is harder for a woman than a man. After she goes through four to six years of higher education, she still has to pay off student loans and find a job that will allow her to get ahead in her field.” Lisa is uncomfortably aware that she’s talking about herself. “And a lot of corporations see motherhood as a liability and don’t promote women with children into upper management.”
“This would be very hard, I think,” Janet says thoughtfully. “To be living in the world of men, and at the same time mothering a child.”
Lisa sighs. “I was engaged myself, and Roger - that was my fiancé - was already talking about starting a family.”
“And you did not want to?”
“No - I didn’t.” Lisa decides a change of subject is in order. “By the way, I met one of George’s brothers today - Michael is his name.”
“I remember him,” Janet says immediately. “I knew all the Shirks. They were only gone from Lancaster a couple of weeks already when The Sickness began.”
It’s Lisa’s turn to be curious. “I got the feeling he doesn’t follow the Mennonite ways any more. He was standing guard outside when we got there - with a rifle.”
The boy had made her nervous in a way she can’t quite define, even to herself. Lisa struggles to think of something positive to say about the kid. “Apparently he’s quite the marksman.”
The distinctive sound of naugahyde creaking tells Lisa that Janet has sat up. “Michael was always different,” she says softly. “And Mr. Shirk was comparing him to George all the time. It was never helping the two brothers to be close.”
Lisa tries to imagine sanctimonious George basking in his father’s approval while parroting his criticism of Michael. Good Lord.
“It’s so sad when parents—”
Lisa is interrupted by a flash of bright light through the window, followed by the squeal of brakes as a vehicle skids to a stop in front of the building.
“What’s that?” Janet’s voice is shrill with fear.
“Shh,” Lisa whispers. “I need to hear.” She pads to the window in her bare feet and crouches below the sill.
“State your name and business!” Arnold Peltz barks outside.
“Cash Hatfield - for the doctor - emergency!” There’s a note of panic beneath the military precision of the information.
Lisa fears the worst, and she gropes for her clothes. Then she notices Janet still huddled on the couch, her arms wrapped around herself.
“Hey, it’s all right,” Lisa says, tying her boot and going to Janet. She sits down next to her and takes her cold hand. “It sounds like Nix St Clair has gone into labor - and she may be having a little difficulty.”
There’s a sharp rap. “Heads up in there! Emergency!” Holden’s voice calls.
“You must save her!” Janet gasps. “Do not let her die!”
Lisa pulls her into a hug. “Nobody’s going to die tonight - because it’s my job to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
There’s another rap.
“Nix is in labor,” Holden says when Lisa opens the door. “Hatfield says she’s loosing a lot of blood, and—”
He stops talking when Lisa puts her finger to her lips. She slips into the hall and pulls him away from the open door. “Janet’s upset - she shouldn’t be alone.”
Marcelli materializes. “How can I help?”
Lisa decides she has a better use for Tony than gathering needed medical supplies. “This emergency is stirring up some very bad memories for Janet. I need you to stay with her. She likes you - trusts you. Help her through this, please, so I can concentrate on what I have to do without worrying about her.”
“But - won’t you need me to assist you if—”
“The doc’s right,” Holden interjects. “I’ll lend a hand if she needs it.”
“Are you sure?” Lisa blurts.
“I’ve seen my share of blood and guts - maybe more than you. He grips her arm. “Let’s go - Hatfield’s in controlled panic mode. If things go south, who knows how he’ll react.”
“Tony,” Lisa says, “Please be very calm and—”
But she’s talking to empty space. Marcelli has already rushed to Janet’s side.
THE PICKUP IS FAR AHEAD of them. Holden is hunched over the wheel, entirely concentrated on keeping control of the large military vehicle as it corners the sharp curves of the country roads, headlights sweeping from left to right in a blur. The deep pot holes on the road ahead come up fast. Lisa braces herself against the seat to keep from being thrown toward the roof of the cab.
“What if we lose him?” she asks anxiously.
“He’s not stupid,” Holden says. “If he doesn’t see us behind him at a turn - he’ll slow down. You’re the only reason he’s not at home holding his wife’s hand right now.”
Holden is right behind the old pick up as Hatfield makes a sudden turn into a driveway flanked by high banks on each side, reminding Holden of a dried up creek bed. Thick weeds and saplings brush against the truck door like the scrabble of claws. The drive suddenly divides around the base of a hill. Above the fork, the dark silhouette of a large farmhouse looms, the second floor windows glowing with lamplight. He notes the great defensive position automatically.
When they come to a stop by the side of the house, Hatfield is already standing on the long porch. “Hurry up, for Christ’sake,” he calls impatiently.
Lisa has trouble keeping up with Hatfield as he moves swiftly through a large room full of silent young people.
Behind her, Holden calls from outside, “Hey kiddies - a little help would move things along!”
Lisa glances back and sees him balancing a stack of boxes as he nudges the door open with his foot. Michael, George’s formidable younger brother, moves out of the shadows and grabs the door.
Lisa bumps i
nto the corner of a heavy table as they pass through an old-fashioned kitchen. She orders herself to stop looking over her shoulder - all she needs is a sprained wrist and the odds of a successful delivery plummet.
Gripping the railing, she follows Hatfield up a poorly lit flight of stairs. At the top, he throws open a heavy oak door and stops. He seems paralyzed by what he sees in front of him.
“Make a hole!” Lisa says, unconsciously using the slang she’s picked up from living with the military. It seems to penetrate his fog because he glances at her in surprise and moves out of the way.
“Danke Gott!” cries a plain Mennonite girl who’s standing by the side of a bed crowned by an ornate headboard. Her white apron is smeared with blood.
Lisa pulls the stethoscope from her bag as she approaches the rigid woman lying there, twisting the sheets in her fists to keep from crying out.
“Hi Nix,” she says calmly. “How are you feeling?”
The question is purely rhetorical - meant to put the patient at ease. But Nix makes a valiant effort to answer. “Like crap,” she croaks, grimacing in pain.
Lisa places the stethoscope against Nix’s bulging belly and moves it from spot to spot, listening intently. Then she grabs Nix’s wrist and checks her pulse.
She pats Nix hand. “Hold on - I’ll give you something to help with the pain.”
Lisa is surprised to see that Holden has already assembled a chrome stand and is hanging an IV bag from it. He grabs a towel from a stack sitting on the seat of an old platform rocker and spreads it on top of an antique dresser.
“Did you remember to pack some scrubs?” Lisa asks over her shoulder, as she expertly inserts the IV port into a vein in Nix’s hand.
“I’m not a total moron,” Holden says as he quickly pulls items from a box and arranges them in a neat line on the clean towel. Without a word, he offers her a disposable hospital gown and hair covering.
