Mick closed his eyes. “There is no rhyme or reason, Dylan, for what is happening. None.” After a pause, Mick glanced down at her. “I want to ask you something.”
Three soft pounds hit against the wall. “Ask her when you wake up!” Chris shouted.
“Go to sleep,” Mick ordered him then directed his attention to Dylan. “I know we’ve never discussed it. But I’ve been thinking about it a lot for some reason. The world right now...is gonna be fucked up. I know that, you know that. But I think, no, I know I’m strong enough to take care of you all despite the odds. Do you believe that?”
“With all my heart.”
Mick exhaled. “OK, without making me feel stupid, and without shooting me down right away, will you think about something? I know we aren’t that young anymore, but we’re still young enough. Let’s...when this thing is all over with, let’s have a baby, Dylan.”
Dylan lifted her head from his chest. She stared at him for a few seconds then whispered, “Mick.”
“Okay, go on. Say something sarcastic.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You really want to have a baby with me?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, Mick.” She grinned as she exhaled and giggled. “Oh, Mick, I am so happy to hear you say that.”
“Why?” Mick asked, confused.
“Because I was so scared. I was scared you would think we weren’t young enough. I was scared you would think this world is too fucked up.”
“Dylan, what are you talking about?”
“Mick. I was scared to tell you I am pregnant. We’re having a baby, Mick.”
“You’re lying,” Mick said with disbelief.
“Yeah. I’m lying.” Dylan waited for him to groan. “No, I’m not. We are.” She looked straight into his eyes. “I’m about two months along.”
“You...you....oh my God.” Mick ran his hand down his face. “Oh my God.” He grinned. “We’re having a baby?”
“Yes. So I take it...you’re happy?”
“Dylan,” Mick sat up, pulling her to him, “do you realize, I couldn’t ask for my life to be more complete? We’re...we’re...” Mick let out a loud ‘whew!” then laughed. “We’re having a baby!”
Both at that moment looked at the wall and waited for the pounding to start. Just as they both shrugged thinking Chris was finally asleep, they jumped as the bedroom door flew open.
Chris stood there, pale, shaky, and looking shocked. “You’re having a baby?”
Grinning, Dylan nodded.
“Oh, that is so wrong,” Chris gasped. “That is just so wrong.”
Mick slowly sat up straighter. “It’s not wrong, Chris. There’s nothing wrong about us having a baby.”
“Not the baby. That’s good news. But I know how babies are made, Mick.” Chris gave a knowing nod. “And if you guys can’t have sex until you’re sixty, how in the heck did it happen?”
After seeing the confusion on Dylan’s face, Mick plopped backwards with a moan. “My mom.”
* * *
Lars, maybe. A quiet med station, or darkness. Patrick expected to see any of these things when he drowsily opened his eyes but not a smiling Mick.
Mick grinned widely and chewed his gum as if he knew a secret.
“Mick?” Patrick questioned.
“Hey.” Mick pulled up a chair. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”
“Why? You should be sleeping; you look terrible.”
“Me?” Mick laughed as he sat down. “I’m not the one with the flu. In fact...that’s why I’m here. Guess what?”
Patrick shook his head.
“Lars did a test.” Mick leaned into Patrick. “I’m immune to it.”
“No.”
“Yep.” Mick leaned back.
“That sucks.”
Mick chuckled cockily and smiled wider, then sniffed hard. “Yep. Smell that flu.”
“You’re sick.”
“No, you are.”
“How’s the family?”
“Hanging in there,” Mick replied. “Marian has the flu, but she isn’t septic. Tom’s getting well. My mother is still bitching and Chris is recovering.”
“Tigger?”
“Hanging in there. Not sick.” Mick looked at Patrick. “How are you feeling? I hear you beat the twelve hour mark.”
“Yeah, how about that? How’s everyone holding up today?”
Mick shrugged. “Panicking. We’re starting to uh…we’re starting to lose people now.” His voice cracked and then Mick cleared his throat. “Not as many as the rest of the world, though.”
“We’re still losing them,” Patrick said sadly. “I’ll never get over this.”
“Sure you will.” Mick tossed out a hand. “Lars said you beat....”
“Not the flu,” Patrick whispered. “For what I did.” He saw the confusion on Mick’s face. “Come on, Mick, you know I’m responsible for this.”
Mick stared for a second. “Don’t you think you’re being a little full of yourself taking credit for a history-making plague?”
“Not the plague. I mean what happened in Lodi. If those FBI agents weren’t coming after me, they would have never brought the flu.”
“They didn’t give Lodi the flu,” Mick argued. “The fuckin’ cat did.”
“Who brought the cat?” Patrick asked. “The FBI agents. If they weren’t chasing me, they wouldn’t have been outside the city with an infected animal that got in here.”
“Yeah,” Mick nodded. “OK, I can see why you blame yourself. Good point.”
“I should have never have come to Lodi.”
“Patrick,” Mick gave him a nudge, “it’s really asinine to blame yourself for this. For the flu. I hoped with all my heart, but I never truly thought it would pass us by. My big fear was, what happens if it’s dormant and it hits us after Lars moves on, or after the supplies run bad? It hit us when we were ready. And if you want to blame yourself for anything, blame yourself for the fuckin’ stupid way these cots are set up.”
“Excuse me?” Patrick questioned. “What’s wrong with the cots? It took a lot of thought and planning.”
“I have to squeeze through. When I do, I bump sick people.”
“Then don’t walk around. But I utilized a lot of space. We got over a hundred more cots in here than we thought.”
“That’s right.” Mick smiled. “And you also got over three thousand syringes prepared for immunizations, tubes for testing, tables… You have a lot to blame on yourself, and I say, if it wasn’t for you being so gung ho to help Lars, we wouldn’t have had the efficiency we have. That’s what I blame you for. Now the people of Lodi,” Mick added a joking tone to his voice, “I hear they’re wanting to hang you when it’s done.”
“That’s not....” Patrick paused to cough. He cringed as he grabbed his chest.
“You OK?” Mick asked.
“Yeah. Just a sharp pain.” He held the look of pain for a moment then let it go. “I’ll be fine.”
“Patrick, when this thing is done with, are you staying in Lodi?” Mick asked.
“I was thinking about it. We started that long term survival thing. Then again, I have the hideaway.”
“What’s that?”
“My final place,” Patrick explained. “Up on the Canadian side of the lake. A cabin, lots of land, secluded. I was going there when I couldn’t run in the States anymore.”
“Sounds nice.”
“It is. Why, wanna pack up everyone and go? Got the keys and the map at the house.”
“I might. Something to think about. But right now you...” Mick swatted Patrick’s leg as he stood up, “need to rest. I just wanted to stop by and torment you some.”
“And you did.” Patrick slightly shook his head and chuckled. “Immune.” He coughed and cringed.
“What can I say?” Mick lifted his hands with an arrogant look. He saw Patrick start to drift. “Patrick…one more thing. You said you should have never come to Lodi. I just wanna let you kn
ow, criminal or not,” Mick winked, “you’re a good guy. I’m really glad you ended up here. I made a friend in you I’d like to keep.”
“Thanks, Mick, that means a lot. More than you realize.”
Mick smiled gently. “Get some rest. I’ll check on you in the morning.”
With a soft “goodnight” Patrick closed his eyes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
October 2nd
Dylan made a mental reminder to have Mick check the water heater, because the hot water felt just a little cool. But even less than hot, the shower still felt refreshing. Of course, not as much as the four hours of sleep she had. It was the first time in days she had that much sleep at one time. Mick never woke her. He only left a note that he had checked the boys. Then again, that was a while ago and it was time to check them once more.
As she finished brushing her teeth, fully dressed and ready to start the day, Dylan opened the bathroom door and jumped, startled to see Dustin standing there. “I’m sorry, honey, all yours,” she told him.
“Mom?” Dustin cleared his throat. “I’m not sure, but I think I feel a little stuffy.”
With a sinking heart, Dylan lifted her hand to Dustin’s face. “You’re not warm.”
“So what do we do?”
“Oh, we take you down and get you tested.”
“Mom,” Dustin whined. “I get tested all the time.”
“And it doesn’t hurt to be safe.” Dylan saw that he was going to complain. “No arguments. Get dressed, I’ll check Tigger and then we’ll head down. Okay?”
Dustin nodded.
“Good. Get ready, I’ll be back.” Dylan kissed Dustin on the cheek and walked down the hall. Though she could have waited a little longer to check, previous false test or not, she wasn’t taking a chance. To Dylan, being uncertain meant any symptoms were mild, and mild symptoms told her that, if it was the flu, it was early enough to stop it.
* * *
Bodies lined up outside of the school were covered and waiting to be placed on the truck that would take them to the old Tool and Die building. The sight made Mick stop. A few hours earlier there wasn’t a line of deceased. He knew there were deaths. He had heard that from Haddock, who was doing pretty good at thwarting the flu.
Mick watched the few men that had volunteered lift the bodies. After saying a short prayer, he fell back on the thought that put him in a semi-good mood. Word from Lars was that the second wave was slowing down. Four more days and Lars was confident that all those in Lodi who would catch it would have caught it. The countdown was underway in Mick’s mind.
In the mood to harass Patrick, possibly torment him about slacking on his food stockpiling responsibilities, Mick entered the gym.
He could see Patrick lying on the cot sleeping and that added fuel to Mick’s playful fire. “Hey,” Mick called to him. “Man, sick or not, you are lazy.” He gave a light smack to Patrick as he walked around to face him. “You gonna get....” Mick froze. His heart dropped when he stared at Patrick’s wide open eyes “Oh my God.” Laying his hands on Patrick’s shoulder, Mick felt the coolness of his body. As he rolled Patrick onto his back, he saw the entire left side of Patrick’s body was black from the settled blood. “Lars,” Mick called out. “Lars!” Nearly hyperventilating, Mick shook his head. “Not you…not....”
“What hap....” Lars didn’t need to ask when his eyes fell upon Patrick’s body.
“Lars?” Mick questioned. “You said he beat this. You said he beat the septicemia.”
Lars swallowed with difficulty. “There are other things that are just as threatening. I keep...I keep telling people this, yet everyone remains so confident.” His final word dropped with an abundance of sadness. He lifted the blanket whispering, “I’m sorry, Patrick, my friend.”
Watching the interaction sent Mick into a flurry of confusion. He didn’t understand it; he had assumed all was fine. Patrick, not a few hours earlier, was fine. Mick had tried to keep a mental distance from all that was happening; that was how he stayed so strong. Yet here he was, unable to distance himself. Patrick was his friend. He didn’t know how to feel, or how to act. All he knew was that he had to get out of there. Hurrying through the narrow aisle of cots filled Mick with even more sadness as he rushed to leave the gym.
He flung the doors open in his haste to get outside, and the fresh air brought the vision of death again. Wanting badly to catch his bearings, Mick started to turn to walk away, but as he did, he saw Dylan and Dustin approach the gym.
“No,” he ground out. He knew they would only be approaching for one reason. “Dylan.” He raced over.
“Mick,” Dylan’s voice quivered a little.
“What’s wrong?” Mick asked.
“Dustin has the flu.”
Mick reached out laying his hands on Dustin’s face. “I’ll get him in there. Where’s Tigger?” he asked, almost panicked.
“Mick, calm down,” Dylan said, sensing his anxiety. “Tigger’s home. He’s fine. And Dustin...” She smiled. “He’ll be fine. We got it early.”
“Yeah.” Dustin smiled. “I don’t even feel sick. Just a little stuffy. Mom? Go on home with Tigger.”
Dylan nodded and embraced him. “I love you. I’ll be back when they hit you with that second dose.”
“Ok,” Dustin said. “Go on, though. Mick’s here.”
Sliding her hand down his face, Dylan backed up. “Take care of him, Mick.”
“I will.” Mick put his arm around Dustin. “Let’s get you inside.” He started to walk with him.
“You all right, Mick?” Dustin asked.
“Um, yeah.” Mick pulled Dustin closer and kissed him on the cheek as he did.
“You seem worried. Don’t be getting worried on me, Mick. I mean, I barely have a sniffle, I haven’t even sneezed yet. We got it early so there’s nothing to worry about. We beat it, right?”
Mick slowed down his pace as he walked into the gym. He could see out of the corner of his eye that Kurt and Henry were removing Patrick’s body from the cot. A hard lump formed in Mick’s throat.
“Mick? I’ll beat it, right?”
“Yeah.” Mick gave a soft smile to Dustin. “You’ll beat it, Dustin. You’ll beat it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Hands folded as in prayer, Mick kept his eyes steady on a sleeping Dustin. Like with Chris, he never left his side. He didn’t understand the feelings in his gut. He tried to decipher them and reason them through, but he was scared for Dustin and a sick feeling hit him every time Dustin took one of those breaths that grew increasingly labored. A few hours earlier he’d spoken with Kurt; Kurt told Mick how impressively early Dustin checked into the station. How ‘on top’ of it the mature young man was. Mick fed on that, trying to derive some comfort from those words, but they weren’t relieving him. They didn’t help ease the worry. Perhaps Patrick was too much on his mind for Mick to think clearly or feel confident, maybe because he had been confident that Patrick would be fine and that belief had slapped him in the face. To Mick, Patrick was the epitome of proof that nothing should be assumed and nothing should be taken for granted.
So engrossed in his thoughts, in what was happening, and nearly hypnotized by watching Dustin, Mick jolted a little when he felt someone brush against him. Dylan laid her hand on his back.
“Hey,” she whispered.
“What are you doing here?” Mick asked.
“I got tired of waiting. It’s been over twelve hours.” She took a shuddering breath. “I’m getting nervous. How is he?” Dylan placed her hand on Dustin. “Mick, he’s warm.”
“Yeah, I know. And really congested.” He pulled the covers up further over Dustin.
Dylan’s eyes rose to the empty IV bag. “What’s going on? Why haven’t they started his second bag?”
“I don’t know. Maybe...” Mick let out a breath and smiled. “Here comes Lars now. They probably got busy.”
Lars slowly approached the cot. “Dylan, what uh, what are you doing down h
ere?”
“I came to check on Dustin,” Dylan said. “Mick hadn’t come home. But since I see you’re getting ready to start the second—”
“Can I see you two outside for a moment?” Lars asked. “Please.”
Mick’s eyes shifted to Dylan as he stood up. “Lars?”
“Please,” Lars whispered, then without waiting, walked across the gym.
Dylan knew something wasn’t right; her reaction time was slow, so she didn’t move at first. Then, clenching Mick’s hand tightly, they walked out of the gym. When they stepped outside, Lars stood there, his back to them, his hand resting on the back of his neck.
“Lars?” Dylan called him.
His loud sigh echoed and then Lars turned around. He stared with heartbreaking intensity at Mick and Dylan.
That was enough for Mick. His eyes closed. “No.”
Dylan quickly looked at Mick “No what?” She glanced to Lars. “What?”
“Dylan...” Lars stepped to her, “there will be no second bag. Take Dustin home.”
Mick could feel the pain rising inside of him. It crept in, rumbled from his chest to his throat. He closed his eyes tighter and his hand went to his face. He screamed inside.
“What...what are you saying?” Dylan asked with worry. “Lars, what are you saying?” She stepped to him. “We brought him here early enough. Didn’t we?”
“Yes,” Lars stated. “The time frame was perfect. His levels of septicemia were very low. But...but Dustin failed to respond to the therapy. His levels rose.”
“No.” Dylan shook her head and all the breath escaped her body. “No. Keep trying.”
“Dylan, I’m sorry.” Lars nodded slowly, sadly, and walked toward the gym.
“No!” Dylan grabbed his arm. “Try it again, Lars. Try it again. Please,” she beseeched him. “Please.”
The Flu (A Novel of the Outbreak) Page 30
