“No, Tigger was peeing.”
A long blink and Mick he sat back. “What?”
“O.K., listen,” Dylan explained with animated hand motions. “I’m doing my hair in the bathroom, right? Stewing, Mick. Stewing over you. I’m standing there, trying to do something in this heat with this long hair and Tigger blasts his little body into the bathroom, says nothing, pulls up his step stool, drops his pants and hoses everything down.”
“And that made you think of this?”
“No, of you.”
“I am really lost,” Mick said. “How did your kid pissing all over the bathroom make you think of me?”
“Now check this out,” Dylan continued. “I thought when he did this, didn’t he notice me standing there. He just flew in, not caring and went. Then, you know, I shrugged it off. I’m his mom, He feels comfortable with me. And it was better than him peeing his pants. Then it dawned on me. It really dawned on me, right there and then, curling iron in my hand.” Dylan smiled. “Tenth Grade, Mick Owens. You got me drunk on your mother’s whiskey and you had me laughing so hard I pissed my pants in front of you. Remember?”
Mick snickered. “Yeah. And it wasn’t the last time either. You did the same thing the next time I got you drunk.”
“Exactly.” Dylan nodded. “And what about the time you decided I needed to go hiking. How about that?”
“You didn’t pee your pants, you pulled a Tigger, dropped your drawers and went. Watching you take a leak, Dylan, no matter how you do it, is old news to me. It’s no big deal.”
“Yes. Yes, it is, Mick. See? You are only the person in this world I have ever peed my pants in front of. All those years I was with Sam, never did I do that or...go to the bathroom in front of him. Contrary to what you have witnessed, I consider my bodily functions very private.”
“And your point?”
“You’re not seeing it, are you? I was never embarrassed and I never cared what I did in front of you. That tells me so much. More than I originally realized. And that is the reason for my cards on the table. Read them, Mick.” Dylan smiled. “Turn them over and read them. Left to right.”
Mick reached for the card on the left and stopped. His huge hand lay over all three cards and he slid them to Dylan. “I’m sorry, Dylan.”
“But, Mick, it’s so important. Please.”
“There’s nothing that can be said to change my mind. You’ve said it all before. Nothing’s changed. So now...it’s over. No more.”
Slow, Dylan nodded. “I see. Fine. I’m sorry.” After waiting a few seconds, Dylan turned to leave.
“What about your cards?”
She paused in the doorway of the kitchen. “You keep them. One of these days you’ll turn them over. And it’ll be too late. I’ll be gone.”
Dylan turned and left.
Glue. Mick had to imagine glue kept him in that chair because he diligently fought not to get up and follow Dylan when he heard her leave. But he didn’t fight too hard to refrain from turning over those cards.
Lifting the first card on the left, Mick let out a heavy breath when he looked at the paper with Dylan’s handwriting stuck on that card. It read, ‘I’ll do ANYTHING for you.’
Shaking his head, Mick turned over the center card. ‘I want you in my life....always.’
“Aw, Dylan.” Words she’d said before, words he had heard before, but they still moved him. Mick grabbed the third. He hesitated before turning it over, but he was glad he did. ‘I love you.’
Every ounce of his being sank when he laid eyes upon the words Dylan had never said to him. Allowing the feeling to radiate through his body, Mick stood up, snatched that card from the table and with top speed he raced from his kitchen into his living room.
He expected, fully expected Dylan to be on the porch. Perhaps that was the reason he stopped running when he opened his front door. But she wasn’t. Mick saw her. Walking up the street, Dylan was only a speck of a figure moving away.
Mick ran. He kept on running until he not only caught Dylan, but passed her as well. He made sure he got ahead of her, then catching his breath he stopped her by standing before her.
“What?” She crossed her arms.
Mick lifted the card to her eye level. “Say it.”
“You had your chance.”
“Come on, Dylan,” Mick said heavily, emotionally. “Say it.”
Dylan’s eyes shifted from the card to Mick, then she grabbed it from his hand and tore it in half.
Mick shrieked. “Uh! You ripped my card!”
“That was nothing. Try this.” Dylan ripped it once more, dropped the card then stepped on it. “Ha!”
Mick shrieked again. “What in God’s name is the matter with you?” He bent down, and lifted her foot to get the remnants.
“Me! You!” She reached to a bent over Mick and smacked him on the head. “You had your chance. I told you it would be too late. But, no. You come chasing me down.”
“Dylan.” Mick stood up holding the pieces. “You said you love me. You have never said that. Ever.”
“And I will never say it again.” She stared at him.
“Fine.” Mick threw the pieces.
“Fine.”
“I’m going home.” Mick marched by her.
“Alone!” Dylan shouted to a moving Mick.
“Like I always do!” Mick yelled back.
“I hope you choke on that green food you were eating!”
“It’ll be a hell of a lot less painful than dealing with you!” Mick screamed his final words as he stormed into his house.
Dylan warbled a frustrated scream.
“Dylan!” Tom’s strong voice, close, called her name.
Slowly Dylan turned to her right. She slouched when she saw her father standing on his front porch not far from where she was. “Sorry.”
“I have to live around these people. You want to scream and act like a fool on the street? Do it in front of your own house.” Tom opened his screen door. “And pick up that trash!”
“God!” Dylan screamed when her father’s door slammed. “He treats me like a child.” Growling her anger, she bent down to pick up the torn card. Picking up the pieces, looking at the ripped words, made Dylan stop. She clenched them in her hand. “What am I doing?”
In a matter of thirty seconds, Dylan was opening Mick’s front door. She didn’t expect him to be back at his kitchen table indulging in his green food. He was where she thought he’d be, just sitting on the couch.
She slowly walked in, shutting the front door with her back and staying there.
Mick slumped forward some on the couch, his arms resting on his knees. He only raised his eyes to her.
“Mick,” Dylan whispered, “I grabbed what’s left of the card.” She held up the parts. “I can’t put the pieces back together. Well, maybe I can, if you have some tape.” She let out an emotional chuckle. “Maybe I will and that will help piece us back together.”
“We aren’t as ripped apart as that card is. Don’t kid yourself,” Mick said gently.
“What do you need me to do, Mick, I’ll...”
“Dylan.” He held up his hand still keeping his voice soft. “Just...just say it.” He closed his eyes. “I swear I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear you tell me those words. Just say them.”
“I love you.”
Mick let out a sigh as he rose from the couch. He didn’t even give Dylan a chance to step away from the door. He moved to her, gently placed his hands on her face, and kissed her. A welcoming kiss, long, wide, and deep. He smiled, chuckling when he finished. Hands still on her face, he kept his forehead to hers. “See, it wasn’t all that difficult to say.”
“I probably would have said it sooner had you not hounded me about it.” Dylan kissed him. “Mick, I’ll say the other things on the cards, too, if you want.”
“You’ve said them before.”
“Then I’ll prove them.”
“Do you really mean that, Dylan?” Mick asked,
his eyes locked on hers. “Really?”
“You tell me, Mick. You tell me how, and I’ll do it. I don’t want to lose you. And I certainly don’t want to give you up.”
After giving Dylan another kiss, Mick spoke, “Get him out of that house.”
“It’s not that simple. He has nowhere else to go.”
“Bullshit, Dylan,” Mick argued softly. “I don’t want you living with him, married to him or not. You have a divorce pending. I just don’t want you sleeping in the same house as him.”
“Then how about I sleep here,” Dylan suggested. “Panicking yet?”
“Nope. I would love for you to sleep here. Live here.”
“Then I will.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Yes, I’ll move in tomorrow.”
Mick smiled. “What about the boys?”
“Well, Dustin and Chris won’t come with me. But they’ll only be four blocks away. Tigger will. Even though I know it’s gonna be a masochistic mistake and I’ll fight with you constantly, we’ll do it. If you’ll have us.”
“Oh, I’ll have you all right.” Mick leaned into her. “When are you telling Sam?”
“Tonight,” Dylan said. “I’ll tell him all of it.”
“Now,” Mick said as they stood together, close and intimate. “Tell him now.”
“After.”
“After?”
“After.” Dylan reiterated and kissed him softly.
“OK. I can handle after.” Mick pressed his body to Dylan, flashed a sneaky grin, then slid his lips to her neck, and took Dylan up on her ‘after’ invitation, right there by the door.
* * *
Prudhoe Bay, Alaska
Paul wasn’t a huge fan of modern electronic communication. His number one preference was face-to-face, then the telephone. Clicking away at a keyboard to convey what he wanted to say was not only not his style, it was annoying.
However, for the first time he was grateful for it. It was a long day that was far from over. Paul had cleared his throat and held back gags so many times that it was actually sore. He had to keep telling himself he didn’t have the flu. And even if he had caught it, there was no way he would be symptomatic that fast. He hoped.
Almost universally known as Instant Messaging, what was loaded on Paul’s computer was named Winston Messaging. Basically, the exact premise, but because of the nature of the work, it was a more secure means of electronic communication that most Winston Employees used at and away from work. Paul only used it when needed. Henry preferred its use with his people in the field because he was able to save the conversation, print it and refer to it.
In the mobile lab, Paul stared at his computer. He wanted to log off, but there was still a lot to be said, and he had to wait for Henry, who had paused to take a phone call.
The ‘bleep’ alert sounded and drew Paul’s attention.
HBK_HENRY: Back. Where were we?
PAUL_La_STUD: Up shit creek without a paddle.
HBK_HENRY: Are you sure?
PAUL_La_STUD: Confirmed.
HBK_HENRY: Double?
PAUL_La_STUD: Triple.
HBK_HENRY: Total?
PAUL_La_STUD: 95.—-Station 16, Deadhorse, 30, Prudhoe, 46.
HBK_HENRY: Closest other village?
PAUL_La_STUD: Kaktovik. And that was clean. No sign.
HBK_HENRY: Thank God. That’s good. Can we rule it out as incubating?
PAUL_La_STUD: Yes. Our station was infected nearly two weeks ago. About a week to run its course, maybe more, maybe less. I have to review more. The old man will tell a lot.
HBK_HENRY: Has he said anything?
PAUL_La_STUD: Only that the last person died yesterday.
HBK_HENRY: Infected last week?
PAUL_La_STUD: Yep. So, if Kaktovik was hit, there would have been signs of it there or else they’d be wiped out. But we can’t get excited yet. Tomorrow is a big day.
HBK_HENRY: Barrow?
PAUL_La_STUD: Yes. Multiple city checks. Barrow and all coastal communities. If this thing spread, that’s where it’s at. And if they were infected they should be in full viral stage.
HBK_HENRY: What do you think?
Paul paused before responding. He lifted his hands from the keyboard, took a breath then returned.
PAUL_La_STUD: I think there’s more of a chance Barrow was hit than Kaktovik. Prudhoe villagers travel there. Are you going to inform Kurt?
HBK_HENRY: Centers for Disease Control doesn’t need to know yet. Not yet. I’ll tell Kurt when we can assure him this thing is secure.
PAUL_La_STUD: And if you can’t tell him that?
HBK_HENRY: Then I’m going to have to find a way to inform him that his worst nightmare is about to become a reality.
CHAPTER SIX
Lodi, Ohio
Dustin Hughes never considered himself an adult in a teenager’s body. He enjoyed being a child, acting younger than his seventeen years and using that as an excuse to not have to babysit. Not that Tigger was a tough one to watch. He slept a lot more than normal, which was to be expected.
How long did Dustin wait for its return? Weeks. And when his grandfather called and said Best of Wrestlemania was back in for rental, Dustin ran all the way into town. He didn’t want to take a chance that his grandfather might rent that out to someone else.
The night was planned. He and Christian ordered subs, they had their chips, Dylan wasn’t home, and when Tigger crashed for the night right after the sun went down, Dustin and Christian were going to watch that special.
So why did he let the sounds his recently-returned father made distract him? Because Dustin knew Sam made the noise out of frustration. If he was old enough to understand why his dad was living in the house, Dustin assumed his father understood the reason, as well. He had to wonder what in his mother’s statement, ‘This is not a reconciliation,’ confused his father.
Dustin loved his father, there was no doubt. But the older Dustin got the more he understood his father and the situation. Each breakup his parents had was like a grade level in school, learning more with each passing year; seeing things clearly and deciphering them without exactly being told the facts. But Dustin didn’t have to be an Einstein to figure out the last breakup. Even Christian in his own world saw that one for what it was.
Pap and Grandma Hughes had been killed in a car accident. Dustin watched his father not handle the deaths, and then he woke up one morning, went in to tell his mother the alarm clock was going off, and he didn’t have to watch his father anymore.
Gone. His father was gone. A simple note on the coffeepot telling Dylan he had to get his head straight, was all there was.
No money. No word. Nothing for three months. What shocked Dustin the most was Dylan. Never did his mother speak ill of his father. She actually defended him, which pissed Dustin off, but he hid his feelings. When his father finally returned, Dustin welcomed him back, but he swore he would never really see his dad the same way. And he didn’t. That didn’t keep him from wanting his father in his life and being a part of his daily activities, however, Dustin was mature enough to know he could have his father in his life without having his father be in Dylan’s life.
It was, by far, the longest span of time his parents were ever apart. And though almost every child of estranged parents fantasized seeing them reconciled, Dustin did not. He realized that when he saw what they were like apart. Or rather what his mother was like.
Dustin liked the fact that his mother rambled on, complained, and talked a lot instead of being silent, muffled by his father who spoke for her all the time. He enjoyed her recent silly antics much more than when she acted reserved and shy. He looked forward to hearing her stories about the people she met while out, and he stopped minding the stupid country love songs she blasted in the house while singing them loudly and badly. He liked that his mother wore makeup, let her hair grow long, smiled all the time, and said ‘fuck’ once too often.
He liked what his mother evolved in
to in the course of seven months, and he didn’t want to see his mother revert to what she had been, even if it was at the cost of his father being hurt. To Dustin it was justified. How many times had his father hurt his mother?
Christian caught the slight huff of irritation Dustin produced when the screen door slammed and his father stepped in and walked through the living room. “Rewind?” Christian asked.
“Um, yeah.” Dustin rested his face on his hand. “Please. I can’t enjoy that move.”
Christian hit rewind.
Another huff escaped Dustin when he heard his father banging around in the kitchen, the clank of a tin can in the recycle bin, and his father retrieving another beer.
“Still watching?” Sam asked as he walked into the living room.
“Dad?” Dustin looked up. “Don’t you think you’ve drunk enough?”
Sam laughed. “Listen to you.” He took a drink. “When’s your mom coming home? Where is she?”
Dustin didn’t respond, he only signaled Christian to rewind, yet again.
“I’m starting to get upset here. It’s late,” Sam said. “I thought tonight she’d be here since it’s my first night home.”
“Don’t,” Christian warned when he saw Dustin turn to face his father.
It caught Sam’s attention. “Don’t what?” He smiled. “Dustin? What doesn’t he want you to do? Is your mom planning a surprise for me?”
“Dad,” Dustin said with some sadness, “you aren’t that naïve, are you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You and mom aren’t back together,” Dustin explained. “You’re only living here.”
“But that won’t be for long,” Sam told him. “Really, is it ever?”
“This time, it might be. No...” Dustin hesitated, “I know it is.”
Christian whined. “Aw. Now why’d you tell him? You shouldn’t tell him.”
Dustin snapped a disgusted look at his brother. “I didn’t tell him anything.”
“Oh.” Christian returned to the television.
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