Colton Holiday Lockdown

by C. J. Miller

  The alarm was still blaring, making it hard to think.

  Rafe was in the small control room to the right of the entry door.

  “The heat and ventilation systems are down,” Rafe said.

  Without heat, the temperature in the virus wing would drop quickly. The ventilation system used a complex series of HEPA filters in the ceiling above them to clean the air. They would run out of oxygen quickly, and opening the emergency doors of the virus wing would expose the town to the worst cases of the Dead River virus.

  “What should we do?” Gemma asked. With so many hours to cover, she and Rafe were the only two scheduled tonight.

  “We fix it or we risk contaminating the entire town,” Rafe said.

  Rafe lifted the metal housing enclosing the unit.

  Gemma stared at the complex cords, hoses and circuits. She had no experience with HVAC repair. Touching anything was akin to guessing.

  “Any thoughts?” Gemma asked.

  Rafe was moving around the unit, inspecting it. He lifted a set of wires that were lying along the side of the unit connected to nothing. “These have been cut.”

  “One of the patients?” Gemma asked. Every room in the ward was locked to prevent cross contamination. Had someone broken out of their room? Been disoriented? She couldn’t imagine anyone in the ward sabotaging the ventilation system.

  Rafe shook his head. “Our vandal is at it again.”

  “If someone entered without a suit, they’ve been exposed,” Gemma said. If they’d been unprotected and were walking around the general population, they could be spreading the virus to others.

  “Someone has the blood samples from our patients and has been inside this wing. That makes them a walking time bomb.”

  Rafe located electrical tape in the tool box on the shelf above the unit. He and Gemma pieced together the wires, securing them with the tape. The oxygen sensor beeped incessantly, alerting them the air was low on oxygen.

  Once the wires were connected, Rafe restarted the system. Nothing happened.

  Rafe swore and they started again, looking at the cut wires and trying to match them. More tape. They shut down the system and then pressed the button to power it on.

  Nothing.

  “We need to evacuate our patients from their rooms. They’ll suffocate,” Gemma said.

  Rafe seemed calm. Gemma was thinking of her grandmother and Jessica and young Tammy. They needed fresh air!

  Rafe arranged the wires again and then restarted the system. This time, it engaged. The pump began moving the air.

  Gemma silenced the oxygen alarm and watched the sensor climb from dangerously low levels to the safe zone.

  The vandal had almost killed everyone in the virus wing. Why? Who in town had a reason to do this?

  * * *

  Reassuring the patients that everything was fine took hours. Some of the patients were demanding to know what was happening and continuing to lie to them was becoming difficult.

  Their patients were questioning why they were in isolation when others in the town who were sick were living in their homes, keeping themselves in isolation. No ventilation system, no around-the-clock care, but they were with their families and the comforts of their homes.

  The best answer Gemma had was that while infected residents were walking around, the virus was spreading. Staying isolated would help contain the virus and protect loved ones.

  Gemma and Rafe were in his office sorting through the paperwork that had been thrown to the floor when the vandal had trashed Rafe’s office, the clinic and the lab.

  “We need a safe place to keep copies of our lab results,” Rafe said, more to himself than to her. He had said “we” but she wasn’t sure if she was included in that sentiment.

  “I can take them home,” Gemma said.

  “No,” Rafe said firmly. “If anyone learns you have data in your home it makes you a target. Besides, you can’t take anything from the lab.”

  “Then what’s your plan?” Gemma asked.

  “Our plan needs to stay between us. We don’t know who we can trust.”

  “Agreed,” Gemma said.

  “Our scanner and copier are broken. We’ll need to transcribe whatever we can remember after we’re finished in the lab and take our notes to the Dead River library. They have a section in the basement where they store old newspapers. We can collect our papers there,” Rafe said.

  “We can’t do that!” Gemma said.

  “Why not?”

  “That’s stealing,” Gemma said.

  “It’s not stealing. We’re not taking anything.”

  “What if someone finds out?” Gemma asked.

  “We need to make sure no one does,” Rafe said.

  “Do you have an in at the library?” Gemma asked. She didn’t like breaking the rules.

  “I don’t, but you do,” Rafe said.

  Gemma groaned. She and Anand were members of the book club at the library and while they hadn’t met in months, not since the virus had broken out, Gemma was friendly with the head librarian. “I’ll get in trouble.”

  “You won’t. You have to do this, Gemma.”

  Gemma jammed her fingers through her hair. If they were caught, she could lose her license for taking patient data to an unsecured location. She could lose the trust of the town. With Rafe asking her and the importance of what they were doing weighing on her, she felt she had no choice but to agree. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

  Rafe smiled at her and she melted a little. “I like it when you’re willing to bend the rules.”

  “You would,” Gemma said. “As the number one rule breaker in high school you started enough trouble.”

  “I didn’t start trouble because I liked it. I started trouble because I don’t believe in following the status quo,” Rafe said. “When I don’t like something, I won’t go along with it.”

  “Sometimes, you have to compromise.” Every discussion they’d had today felt like a dual conversation, about Rafe and about their relationship.

  “I do compromise. We’re working together. Normally, I prefer to work alone.”

  Gemma rolled her eyes. “I’ll need to teach you to make an actual compromise.”

  She picked a few more papers off the ground and found a photograph of Rafe and his parents. She held it up. “You’ll be happy to know this survived the vandal.”

  She gave the picture another long look and then handed it to him. “Do you miss them?”

  Rafe swallowed. “They were my parents.”

  Not a direct answer. Gemma was treading on a difficult topic. “You didn’t say much when you came back for your mom’s funeral.”

  “What was there to say?” Rafe asked.

  “Why did it take you so long to come home?” Gemma asked.

  Rafe lifted his head from the photograph. “Are you asking why I didn’t come back to Dead River while my mom was dying? Are you asking me why I waited until she was dead to return?”

  The anguish was thick in his voice. “No, I just meant—”

  “Don’t do that. Don’t speak the truth and ask the hard questions and then back away. Always give me the truth. Give me honesty and I’ll meet you with some of my own. I didn’t come to Dead River when my mom was sick because I didn’t know. My parents didn’t know my mom had cancer until it was too late. She ignored the signs and by the time she was sick enough to need help, her doctors couldn’t do anything to save her. My dad said they didn’t want me to come home and blow my fellowship over it.” He snorted. “Like a fellowship mattered.”

  A fellowship was an important milestone in a doctor’s career. Hearing him make it clear that his family came before his career touched her. “They were so proud of you. Your fellowship meant a great deal to them, just like your medica
l degree did.”

  Rafe set the picture frame on his desk. “How do you know that?”

  Rafe’s parents talked about him all the time. Every chance they had, they bragged about their son, the marvelous, life-saving emergency room doctor. “Your dad and mom talked about you every time I saw them. Good things. Great things. I half expected when you came home, you’d learned how to heal someone by laying your hands on them.”

  Rafe closed his eyes and lowered his head into his hands. “My dad wanted me to come back and work at the clinic.”

  “Because he wanted to show you off.”

  Rafe’s eyes were damp and she sensed his grief and loss. “He was proud of me. Every time we talked on the phone, he told me that. I was proud of him too. He got sober while I was away at school and he never went back. My mom said those were some of the best years they had together. Whenever they visited me, they seemed so much happier than I remember them being when I was young.”

  She crossed the room to him and pulled him against her. “I’m so sorry, Rafe. I know this must be hard for you.”

  Rafe shifted her into his lap and sat in his chair in one swift motion. He banded his arms around her and held her.

  “I hated growing up in that trailer park. I hated being poor. I hated how people looked at me and dismissed me because of it. But as soon as I had the chance, I did the same to my parents. I turned away from them. I refused to visit them in Dead River. I made excuses about work and I always flew them out to stay with me.”

  Surprise and sympathy warred with her emotions. Rafe was confiding in her. This was a day of firsts. “I am sure they didn’t see it that way. They knew you were trying to make something of your life. They were happy for you and proud of you.”

  He seemed to collect himself. “Does it get easier?”

  “Does what get easier?”

  “Losing your parents?”

  “I don’t know.” Gemma hardly remembered her mother and what she knew of her father left nothing to be desired in having him in her life. “I know that if Gram Dottie doesn’t get well, I’ll be destroyed.”

  Rafe straightened. “Then we need to get her well. I won’t accept any other outcome.”

  “You expect too much of yourself,” Gemma said. “You have to remember we’re in this together.”

  Would Rafe ever believe that? Or would he continue to draw her to him and push her away?

  * * *

  Rafe had never asked a colleague to spend time with him outside of work. Gemma was the first. Rafe tried to attend Danny’s football practices a couple of times per week and this week, he wanted Gemma with him.

  Gemma was therapy. She was a nurse and a healer by trade, but being with her did something to him that was deeper than that. When he was with her, Rafe could be himself. She’d known him in high school and she seemed to know him now, better than most.

  Patients were nice to him because he could help them. Nurses were nice to him because he was a doctor and a source of income. But Gemma saw through that facade, beyond the title he wore like a mask and into who he was as a man.

  She awakened a part of him that was different than who he’d trained to be. With Gemma, he felt simultaneously out of control and totally enraptured. What he wouldn’t give to have his old motorcycle and have Gemma on the back. To take her out to the mountains for a ride. To find a quiet place and lay her down and make slow, thrilling love to her.

  He’d have to settle for keeping her as his friend and colleague. When he left Dead River after a cure was found, he didn’t want to hurt Gemma or ruin his friendship with Flint and Theo.

  Gemma was sitting next to him on the aluminum bleachers surrounding the football field on one side, a shared blanket over their laps, watching Danny’s practice.

  Rafe liked to watch Danny play when he could, even if the season had been put on hold. Without the ability to leave the town, games had been cancelled, but practice kept up the players’ spirits. Some of the other students’ parents were watching the practice as well. One of the parents had brought a large thermos filled with hot chocolate for the boys and the parents.

  Gemma took a sip of the hot chocolate. It was already cooling. “Danny’s good.”

  Rafe agreed. Danny worked hard and he had unresolved emotions. The time on the field, the exercise and the practice seemed to have taken the edge off his anger. Except for the incident with Dr. Rand, which Rafe didn’t believe Danny had anything to do with, Danny had been great. He experienced the ups and downs of anyone coping with losing someone they loved while going through puberty, a confusing time in everyone’s life.

  “You really care about him,” Gemma said.

  “Of course I do,” Rafe said.

  “He looks up to you,” Gemma said.

  “Better me than someone without direction. He doesn’t have role models in his life. His brother’s not a bad guy, but he’s as lost as Danny is,” Rafe said.

  One of the parents crossed over the benches and sat next to Gemma. She held out her hand. “Betsy Morris.”

  Gemma’s face lit with recognition. “So glad to finally meet you in person.” Gemma leaned back so Betsy could shake Rafe’s hand. “Betsy is organizing the creation and delivery of the care baskets for those who are too sick to leave their houses.”

  Rafe had heard of Betsy and her volunteers. Betsy was also the local holistic healer. Though the scientist in him was wary of anyone claiming to have a medicinal cure without any hard evidence behind it, Betsy was a good person. They’d been in the same class in high school and even then, Betsy had been interested in healing. “I know you have your hands full at the clinic. We’re trying to help people however we can.”

  “I hope you’re being cautious,” Rafe said. They still didn’t know how the virus was spreading, but visiting the homes of those afflicted could easily make Betsy a victim of the virus.

  Betsy nodded solemnly. “I’ve been instructing volunteers to be cautious. Have you made any progress with a cure?”

  Gemma shook her head.

  Rafe interjected. “We’re doing everything we can.” How many times had he said those same words in the last several weeks? It was the most he could say without giving false hope, but it wasn’t inspirational or comforting to anyone.

  “I guess you heard that Principal Lewis called out sick today,” Betsy said, lowering her voice.

  Gemma shook her head. “We hadn’t heard.”

  Betsy looked across the field. “I stopped by with a care basket when I heard. He has the symptoms. He said it came on fast. Fever. Headache. Sore throat.”

  A mild panic shook Rafe. Maybe it wasn’t the Dead River virus. Maybe it was the flu. If it was the Dead River virus, then the entire student population could have been exposed. The clinic didn’t have the resources to care for dozens of additional people, especially children. The CDC was planning to ship additional trailers, but who would take care of the patients? Doctor and nurse volunteers weren’t lining up to enter Dead River and be quarantined until a cure was found.

  Rafe’s anxiety rose. If the exposure had occurred at school, Danny could be at risk. He had told Danny to wash his hands often, not shake hands with anyone, not drink from anyone’s cup or bottle and to avoid anyone who was coughing or sneezing. A cold or the seasonal flu was one thing. Catching the Dead River virus when they had no cure was another, much more deadly, problem.

  “Maybe it’s not the Dead River virus,” Gemma said, echoing Rafe’s thoughts. “Flu symptoms are similar.”

  “I hope so. The flu is bad enough,” Betsy said. “Principal Lewis put himself in isolation. He hung a black flag from his window.”

  Rafe had seen the black flags waving from house windows. It was the Dead River community’s way of alerting others that someone inside was sick. The number of flags increased daily, making for a dis
turbing view of the town.

  Betsy nodded and pulled a card from her pocket. “Please call me if you need another set of hands. I am willing to answer phones or organize supplies or visit with the sick. Whatever you believe will help.”

  “Thanks, Betsy. That’s sweet of you,” Gemma said, taking her card.

  They said their goodbyes and returned to watching the practice.

  “Maybe he should stop going to school,” Rafe said, thinking again of Danny.

  “I’m not sure what I would do in your shoes,” Gemma said. “It’s scary to think about the kids being exposed, but stopping life while under quarantine will make everyone crazy. What can people do? Sit around their houses? Wait to die?”

  If he knew they’d find a cure in a week or even a month, he would pull Danny from school and have him make up the work later. But what if this went on for months? Questions he didn’t want the answers to flew through his mind. “What will the CDC do if we can’t find a cure? Keep us trapped here indefinitely?”

  Gemma leaned away, appearing surprised. “We will find a cure.”

  Sometimes no cure was found and entire towns were wiped out. Sometimes a virus would disappear as mysteriously as it had arrived, only to rear its head when least expected years down the line. “If someone would get better, we could study them to find a cure. But no one gets better. Some people die and some people get worse and worse.”

  Gemma touched his arm. “I know it seems bleak right now, but I have faith in you. I have faith in the people of this town. Look what Betsy is accomplishing with her volunteers. Look at everyone who is lending a hand to their neighbors so we can push through this.”

  “I don’t want to let everyone down. I don’t want to let you down.” Rafe cupped the back of her neck and brought his forehead to rest on hers. Being close to her made him feel at ease. The shouts of fear and his own voice demanding he work harder and longer quieted.

  “Shouldn’t you be working?”

  A hostile tone from a voice Rafe didn’t recognize. Rafe turned slowly, ready for a confrontation. Tensions were running high and everyone was living with added stress.