The Flu (A Novel of the Outbreak)

by Jacqueline Druga

  His ears covered, head down, Chris cried out over the screams of his brother and the painful pleas of Mick and Dylan. “Make him stop. Help him! Help him!”

  Dylan swiped hard at the tears on her face. “Maybe, if I held him, Mick. Maybe if I held him...” She sat on the bed, scooting closer, and Mick moved Dustin from his arms to hers.

  The cry of his pain buried itself against his mother’s shoulder. And when his body completely met hers, chest to chest, Dylan’s arms around him, Dustin fell silent.

  Mick watched it as if in slow motion. The drastic arching of Dylan’s neck as her head flung back, the veins that protruded in agony, the redness that crept from her throat to her face, they all precluded the most heart-wrenching, soul-annihilating cry Mick had ever heard.

  Dustin’s still body rested, braced within the grip of Dylan’s grief. And in a painfully completed circle, against the body that gave him life, in the arms of his mother, Dustin surrendered his last breath.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  October 8th

  It was the first one made, Mick made sure of it. He did it himself, a thick wooden cross, treated so it wouldn’t ruin, with Dustin’s name on it. Dustin was also buried farther from everyone else, next to Marian.

  During the course of the day, Mick continued to stop at Dustin’s grave. Every breather he took, he walked over to say hello and wish with all his heart just to be able to hear Dustin one more time, make one of those statements where he defended Mick with a vengeance, then in a single breath tore it down with a simple ‘do you, Mick?’

  It would be the last of the long days during which bodies were buried.

  It was over. The big wave of death hit twenty-four hours after Dustin had passed away, and with as much grief that Mick held, it was a wave of distraction he needed.

  The calm following the end of the flu brought a sense of anxiety to Mick. He was facing the battle Lars always spoke of, the battle to go on. But Mick was pretty certain, as hard as it would be, as difficult as it was to face, he would be able to go on. He didn’t have a choice.

  * * *

  Lars took a second to peer up at the amber glow of the evening sky. The manmade illumination brought on by the burning bodies, it was yet another sign of the end of the flu era. He walked into the nearly empty gymnasium. It had been weeks since he had been able to walk across the empty floor. He paused at the circle, closed his eyes and imagined that the silence was a room full of applause and cheers. Those that came from children, an abundance of enthusiasm that would be a long time coming before it occurred again in that school gym.

  Relinquishing the memory of many school basketball games and pep rallies, Lars went back to what he was originally doing in that gym: Finishing up.

  Henry and Kurt packed boxes with folders, sealing them with duct tape and stacking them alphabetically.

  “How’s it going?” Lars asked as he approached the pair.

  “Fine,” Henry answered. “Just getting things ready for future documentation. When we’ll do that, I don’t know. Perhaps someone out there will want the task.”

  Kurt chuckled. “Do you honestly think you’ll let them? You were anal about keeping everything in order. You did a good job.”

  “We all did,” Henry said.

  “You didn’t say,” Lars stated, “are you two staying on in Lodi?”

  “Absolutely,” Kurt replied. “We want to help. Tom’s been putting together a new village council to help out Chief Owens during the restructuring. Don’t know what we can do, but we volunteered our services.”

  “Did I tell you…?” Henry lifted the cellular phone. “I got an answer today.”

  Surprised, Lars looked at him. “Who did you call?”

  “The president. As we suspected, flu’s done everywhere else,” Henry answered. “And he’s still trying to restructure, put things back together. He really is. However, he has nothing to work with. Perhaps Lodi can be a strong starting point of assistance to him.”

  Kurt added, “If he didn’t think that before, the president does now. Henry here boasted of a pretty strong leadership in Chief Owens.”

  Lars smiled. “I’ll back Henry up on that. I’m sure Mick will do whatever is needed of him. Since everything is finished here.”

  Henry smiled with relief. “No one came in today.”

  Lars let out a breath. “Yes. Which is good. I didn’t want to make last night the cut-off. I didn’t, even though we knew, if they were symptomatic, they would have been ill by last night.”

  “Think it’s safe to declare this thing officially done?” Henry asked.

  “Yes,” Lars replied with absolute certainty. “I think we can safely say...it’s over.”

  * * *

  Mick sat for a second on his motorcycle after he turned off the engine. He pulled the key from the ignition and looked up at the house. It was late, but he knew Dylan and Chris at least would be up. He needed to see them both. The day was long; he’d been out in the field and didn’t get a chance to stop by home, not even once.

  Summing up enough energy to get off that bike, Mick took the path to the house. He smiled when he approached the door and Chris rushed out.

  “Hey.” Mick picked up his pace to greet him.

  Chris let out a few hyperventilated breaths. “Mick.”

  The horror on Chris’ face shot through him. “What’s wrong?”

  It was more of a whimper then a spoken word that Chris released. “Mick,” he took a couple of fast breaths, “it’s Mom.”

  Wondering if she had fallen, if she’d gotten hurt, Mick flew into the house. The second he stepped inside he received his answer.

  A cough.

  Barking-like, deep, thick, and rumbling. It filled Mick’s ears with blood and his legs were numb as he charged upstairs. “Dylan!” he called her name with fear as he raged into the bedroom.

  From the dresser Dylan turned around to face Mick. Her eyes were red, filled with panic and sadness as she slowly lowered her hand from her mouth. “Mick…oh God.” She lifted her trembling fingers to expose her blood-laced palm.

  * * *

  The scraping of Mick’s fingertips across the dining room table broke the quiet while he and Dylan waited for Lars to speak. His forehead rested against his other hand as he stared down to the table.

  When Dylan heard Lars clear his throat, and noticed Mick not looking up, she grabbed his hand. “I need this more than your head does.” She slipped her fingers tightly in between his. “It’ll be fine,” she whispered, then looked to Tom, who sat on her left. She took comfort in her father’s hand that rubbed reassuringly on her back.

  Lars glanced down to the faces of Dylan, Mick, and Tom. “I don’t think I need to tell you.”

  Dylan nodded slowly and let out a quivering breath. “We figured as much.”

  Tilting his head, Mick’s eyes squinted. “What happened? How did this happen so fast? I kissed her this morning. She was fine.”

  “What time did you leave the house, Mick?” Lars asked. “I saw you at five in the fields. It’s nine at night. Time is what happened.”

  Rolling his fingers into a fist, Mick lightly slammed it on the table. “Why didn’t I come back? Why didn’t I come back here?”

  “And what?” Dylan asked him. “Mick, I didn’t even know I was sick. I have cried so much over these past few days, I didn’t know. I didn’t know until I started coughing a little bit ago.”

  “Start the antibiotics,” Mick said strongly.

  Tom tried to intervene. “Mick, look....”

  “Start them!” Mick blasted at Lars.

  “And what!” Lars yelled back.

  “Try to beat this thing! Damn it, try!”

  Lars held up his hand, it was not the time to lose control. “Mick, for what? Yes, I know you want to try everything to save her. But what are we doing? The dosages I will give her will knock her out for twelve to fourteen hours. That is twelve hours that you could talk to her. Hold her. Say things you always wa
nted to say. Don’t lose that. Do not lose that time.”

  Mick tossed his hands. “So we just give up? Just like that?”

  “Mick,” Tom spoke up, “this is my kid. You think for one second that I don’t wanna fight this thing, too? But where do we draw the line on fighting? We saw it all.”

  “There is no line to be drawn in fighting for Dylan,” Mick said tenaciously as he stood up. “I have fought my entire life for her, I will not stop now.”

  Softly, as she stood, Dylan spoke. “Yes, Mick. You will.” She walked to him. “This got ahead of me. As neurotic as I was about this flu, the time I had it, I didn’t even think about it. I don’t wanna stop fighting either.” She reached up and touched his face. “I don’t. But I am okay right now with this. I am. The only thing that scares me is not the pain that I’ll go through at the end. It’s the thought of my father, my children, and you watching it.”

  “They don’t have to,” Lars spoke up.

  Slowly Dylan turned to face Lars.

  Mick was hit with the revelation. “No.”

  After seeing that Dylan comprehended where he was going, Lars continued. “Listen to me, okay? Dylan is bleeding right now. What that means is that in a few hours, a few hours Mick, she’ll be too sick to get out of bed. This time tomorrow, because of her size, she’ll be too sick to respond, the next day, incapacitated. We give all of you tonight with her. And tomorrow morning, just as she reaches the point where she will be in pain, unable to breathe or function, we will give her the euthanasia.”

  “No!” Mick yelled.

  “Mick,” Lars said calmly, “she won’t feel anything. No pain. A euphoric feel when she passes instead of agonizing pain. Instead of suffocating and drowning, she’ll merely close her eyes.”

  “You wanna kill my wife, Lars! Like a sick animal you put to sleep. Tom, come on,” Mick looked to him with pleading eyes. “Argue with me on this. Dylan....” He turned to her.

  Dylan took a slow breath, which produced a cough that shook her entire body. She looked at Lars and her father. “Can we be alone for a second, please?”

  Mick stood in the silence as Tom and Lars walked out. He waited for a moment before he spoke. “I won’t let you do this.”

  “Mick, listen.”

  “No, Dylan. No. You’ll leave me tomorrow morning? Don’t cheat me out of every single second I have left with you. Please, don’t cheat me out of that.”

  “It’s quality versus quantity.”

  “I want it all. Every moment. Do you hear me?” Mick argued with passion. “I have fought for you, I have waited for you, I finally have you and now....”

  “Do you think I want to leave you?” Dylan whispered. “Don’t you think it’s breaking my heart right now to have to leave you and my sons? It is. I watched my flesh and blood leave this earth in the most horrible way. I don’t want my father to see his child leave this earth like that. I don’t...I don’t want my kids to see that again. I don’t want you to have to clean me, change me, hear me scream. Let me go with dignity. Let me say while I still have my full mind what I have to say to all of you.” Her voice dropped even further. “Just let me say...goodbye.”

  * * *

  Dylan looked into the eyes she needed to see. Tigger’s. No fear, no sadness, only his smile. His face close to hers as she lay on her side. “You know,” she reached and touched him, “all these people can take a lesson from you right now.”

  “Why’s that?” Tigger asked.

  “Look how strong you are.”

  “I’m trying.” Tigger reached out and grabbed the intravenous tube. “Is this your medicine?”

  “Yep,” Dylan said. “Almost done, see?”

  After looking to the IV bag, Tigger nodded. “Then?”

  “Then I go to sleep. That’s why I wanted to just, you know, tell you I’m hoping you’ll keep Mick in line for me.”

  Tigger glanced to Mick who was right there. “That’s a tough job.”

  Dylan inched closer. “You think Chris can handle it?” She shook her head. “Pap will kill him.” She smiled. “You’re the tough one. Look how good you’re being right now.”

  “I’m still sad.”

  “I am, too. Come here.” She pulled Tigger closer and embraced him. “You get going. Go wait downstairs. I love you very much.”

  “I love you too, Mommy.” Tigger backed from the embrace with a small pout. “I’ll miss you.”

  “Ditto.” Dylan fought her tears as she promised herself she wouldn’t cry. She let Tigger’s hand slip from hers as he stepped back.

  Chris stepped forward; he dropped. He dropped to the floor, head to the bed and he grabbed on to Dylan. “Mom.”

  Watching it made Mick unable to breathe. He laid his hand on Chris’ shoulder and squeezed.

  “Chris,” Dylan whispered, “look at me. I wanna look at you.” When he raised his head she saw the tears. Reaching out, she wiped them. “I know it doesn’t seem fair right now. But think about it: I think all this happened for a reason. You guys will stay here with Mick and Pap, and I’ll be up there taking care of Dustin. I think he needs me, Chris.”

  “I need you here, Mom.”

  “I know, sweetie. But I’ll always be around, you know that? We’ll be watching you, me and Dustin. Now there’s something you have to do for me. Okay?”

  Chris nodded.

  “You go downstairs, take Tigger. You put in your favorite wrestling show. And you watch it. You watch it and you enjoy it. Okay?”

  “But, Mom....”

  “No buts.” Dylan kissed him. “We’ll just say our goodbyes now, like I’m leaving for a long trip. Okay? Give me a hug.”

  Chris moaned out his pain into that embrace, squeezing and holding Dylan, not wanting to let her go. “I love you, Mom.”

  “I love you, too.” She kissed him, dropping her voice to a whisper as her hands cupped his face. “I love you.”

  Chris wiped his tears and stepped back. “Come on, Tigger.” He grabbed his little brother’s hand and slowly they walked to the door, then they both paused with a heartbreaking look back at Dylan, and Chris tried to smile. He lifted his hand in a wave, and walked out.

  A slight whimper escaped Dylan and she closed her eyes. She sniffled hard, one that was in unison with Mick’s.

  Tom’s hand glided up his daughter’s calf as he walked to the side of the bed and Mick moved back. “Well...” He sat on the edge of the bed. “I see that bag’s just about done, now. I won’t dally in here.” He leaned down and kissed her, grabbing her hand. “I’m proud of ya. You make sure you tell your mom, I said ‘hi’. Okay?”

  “I will.”

  “I love you.” Tom kissed her again. “You make sure, if you can, you pop back and visit us.” He gave a hard squeeze to her hand, gazed upon her with a proud look and stood up to leave.

  Mick was somewhat confused. “Tom?” He followed him to the door. “You’re not staying?”

  “It’s my child, Mick.” Tom gazed over at Dylan. “I don’t want to see my child leave this earth. And besides....” he shivered, “she’s the love of your life. You take this last moment.” After a pat to Mick’s cheek, and another glance at Dylan, Tom slipped out.

  Mick closed the door and leaned against it, but not for long. He felt the door press into his back, and when he stepped away, Lars walked in. Mick’s heart dropped and he whispered a painful, “Oh my God.”

  Lars only nodded and walked to the bed. “How are you feeling, Dylan?”

  “I don’t feel sick,” Dylan replied.

  “Good.” He laid a hand on her leg and walked to the intravenous bag.

  “Mick?” Dylan called him.

  “I can’t believe this is happening.” Mick walked over to his chair, pulled it as close as he could to the bed and grabbed Dylan’s hand. He watched Lars remove the IV shunt. “Dylan, how...how are you being so strong right now?”

  “I’m not really.” She clenched his hand. “I’m not. But you know what makes this all easier, Mic
k? I get to see my son. Dustin was always my buddy. I get to be with him. And my mom, too. And....” feeling herself ready to break, she smiled, “Sam.”

  Mick’s eyes lifted.

  “I wanna fight with you one more time, Mick.”

  “No.”

  “Please?” Dylan asked. “I know that’s been running through your mind. About Sam.”

  “No it hasn’t.”

  “You thought of it at least once?” Dylan questioned. “Me, Sam, Dustin....”

  “All right, fine.” Mick cut her off. “Okay, yeah. And I’m jealous.”

  “Kind of ironic. All our lives I’ve kept going back to him. Now you secure me, marry me and....”

  “Dylan,” Mick grumbled out her name, “why do you have to go do this, right now?”

  “Because this is us. This is you and me.” She squeezed tighter to his hand. “You’re my soul mate, Mick. I love you.”

  Lars cleared his throat. He pushed the intravenous pole aside. “Ten minutes,” he said softly then walked out.

  Mick’s chest began to cave again and his eyes closed tight. “That’s all I have left with you.”

  “Don’t do this, Mick. Let’s have a good moment.”

  “Am I allowed to just slip into bed with you, and hold you?”

  Dylan’s lips quivered and she fought her emotions “Please?” She peeped out the word. “This is one time in my life I really, really need to be held.”

  With no hesitation, no delay, Mick stood up, walked over to the other side of the bed and lay down. He spooned Dylan from behind, placing his arms under her body and holding her tightly to him.

  “This is nice....” Dylan said.

  Mick kept his lips to her cheek.

  “I have to tell you. I’m glad I married you, Mick.”

  “We should have done it sooner. But it was everything I needed. You made my life so complete, Dylan.”