Brett Battles - Sick

“We don’t want that to be a reason for you to stop looking, though,” the DOP said.

“Of course not. It’s a top priority.”

“Have we figured out yet who was behind his escape?”

“By the level of organization involved, I think we’re dealing with the same people who aided Lauren Scott last year.”

Lauren Scott? The doctor hadn’t thought of her in a while.

“Thank you, Mr. Shell. You and Major Ross are excused.”

“Yes, sir,” Major Ross said.

“Thank you, sir,” Mr. Shell replied.

A moment later, Connection Terminated appeared where both of their faces had been.

“Dr. Karp,” the DOP said.

The doctor straightened in his chair. “Yes, sir?”

“First, progress on the vaccine?”

“As I’ve stated before, these things take time, but we feel like we’re getting very close now.”

“And the problem with the different reactions between the sexes?”

“We’re confident that we’ll have that solved shortly.”

“Good. See that it is,” the DOP said. “Now, about the virus. I do not want Mr. Shell privy to any of the…safeguards. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” the doctor said, a bit unsure. “May I ask why, sir?”

There was no response for a moment, then, “Let’s just say that your virus is not the only thing that’s being tested.”

Before Dr. Karp could say anything else, the black screen that represented the Director of Preparation was suddenly replaced by the words Connection Terminated .

The orderly was glad that they’d finally decided to room his two patients together. It had decidedly improved both their spirits, and made keeping an eye on them easier for him.

He watched them in the monitor, talking to each other.

The boy was sitting on his sister’s bed. He usually did that. The girl, while markedly improved, was still taking her time fully recovering. She tired easily, and still wasn’t eating enough to remove the IV from her arm.

The orderly turned up the volume so he could hear.

“…mise?” the boy asked.

“Of course.”

“Then I promise, too.”

She held out her arms and he fell into them, letting her hug him tight.

A few tears rolled down the boy’s face, but the orderly could see that he was attempting to be strong, attempting to be an adult years before he should even think about it.

“If they try,” the boy said, “I won’t let them.”

“I won’t let them, either,” his sister told him. “We only have each other now, so we have to stick together.”

The boy nodded. Several moments passed, then he said, “Do you really think there’s a heaven?”

She stroked his head. “Yes, of course.”

“So Mom and Dad are there? Thinking about us?”

“I think they’re thinking about us as much as we’re thinking about them.”

“I’m thinking about them all the time.”

“Exact-”

The orderly turned the sound down, wishing he had done so sooner.

Paul Unger and Nick Regan were half-brothers and best friends. Paul was a year older than Nick, and though he had an on-again, off-again relationship with his birth father, he really considered Nick’s dad his, too.

While they lived in Randsburg, California, Paul and Nick attended high school twenty-five miles away in Ridgecrest. That meant they had to get up earlier every morning than most people in town so they could catch the bus.

The morning of the quarantine, their mom, as she always did, flipped on the TV to catch the news while they ate breakfast. Even at that early hour, the quarantine had already been enlarged.

“Sarge!” their mom had yelled. “Sarge, quick! You have to see this.”

Their dad-Nick’s biological and Paul’s chosen-rushed into the kitchen, pulling a robe over the gym shorts and T-shirt he usually slept in.

“What is it?”

She turned up the television, and the four of them watched with growing horror as the news reported the expanding outbreak and the new quarantine zone. When a map showing the actual boundary lines of the zone appeared on the screen, the true realization of their situation hit home.

“That’s us, Dad,” Nick said. “We’re in the zone.”

On the screen, the anchor said, “The CDC is asking all those in the Sage Flu quarantine zone to remain in their homes, and to avoid contact with anyone else. If you have questions, or are in need of medications, medical attention, or do not have enough food in your house, an 800 number has been set up to provide assistance.” The promised number appeared on the screen.

Nick smiled. “I guess this means the bus isn’t coming.”

“Even if it does, you’re not getting on it,” his mother said, taking him more seriously than he meant.

Paul glanced at his stepdad. “The people who are sick are a long way away from here. Why are they making us stay inside?”

Sarge had come into marriage and family after spending twenty years in the Army, so he was a bit older father than most of the kids had. He was also a bit more experienced, having traveled the world and worked in, among other places, several base hospitals. So although Sarge didn’t have a medical degree, Paul knew his stepdad might actually know the answer, or at least have an educated guess.

But if he did, he kept it to himself, because he only said, “They’re probably just being cautious.”

In a way, that answer scared Paul more than something concrete would have.

With little else to do, they, like most of the people in the zone, stayed indoors glued to the television. So they were all sitting in the living room in the early afternoon when the video of the Tehachapi roadblock riot was played. As soon as it ended, Sarge picked up the remote and turned the TV off.

The others looked at each other, confused, then Nick said, “Dad?”

Sarge stared at the television screen, saying nothing.

“Dad, what is it?”

After another moment, Sarge took a deep breath, then looked around at his family.

“Boys, can you give your mother and me a moment, please?”

“Why?” Paul asked. “What is it?”

“Please,” Sarge said again.

“Sure,” Nick said, standing. “Sure. No problem. Come on, Paul.”

Paul hesitated a second, looking at Sarge, then rose and followed his brother into the hallway that led to their shared bedroom. Nick was going to head all the way back, but as soon as they were out of their parents’ sight, Paul grabbed his brother’s arm, put a finger to his own lips and said, “Shhhh.” He pulled Nick down to the floor, and they crawled back to the open end of the hallway to listen.

“You can’t know that,” their mother said, sounding scared.

“Vonda, this is going to get worse before it gets better, maybe a lot worse. They want us to stay in our homes, but we’re still sitting ducks here. The only way we can insure the boys don’t get sick is to get them out of here, out of this zone.”

“They’re shooting people who were trying to get in . They won’t even think twice about doing the same to someone trying to get out.”

“I’ve been thinking about that, and I think I might know a way.”

“What way are you talking about?” she asked.

“Better if I tell them at the same time.”

“I don’t know. I’d rather they just stay here.”

“Sweetheart, we can’t argue about this. It’s our boys’ lives we’re talking about. If they stay here, I think there’s a good chance they’re going to die.”

There was silence for a moment, then, “Okay.”

Sarge suddenly raised his voice. “Boys?”

Paul motioned for Nick to crawl back down the hallway with him.