Mark Justice - The Green Dawn

“What do you mean?”

“What I’m sayin’ is that there’s no room at the inn. The hospital at Carlsbad is full up. More than full. They’ve pitched tents on the lawn and they’re stackin’ ’em and rackin’ ’em. Now ain’t that some crazy shit? And the punch line to this particular joke is this: There ain’t nothin’ the docs can do. I haul ’em in so somebody in a white coat and a mask over their face can stand by with his thumb up the ol’ poop chute and watch ’em. It’s some ugly stuff, too. It starts out like the?u with a fever and maybe a cough. Then the circus really comes to town. The skin turns gray and they develop blisters on their faces.”

The dispatcher made a soft sound and Jubal pictured the man shivering. Despite the heat, he felt like shivering himself. He glanced at the woman on the ground.

“What about other hospitals?” he said.

“I guess I didn’t make myself clear. Carlsbad is havin’ a good day, compared to the rest of the state. It’s the end of the world, Deputy Fife. I suggest you drink up.”

The whole state? Jubal felt his lunch go sour in his belly.

“What about El Paso?”

“My cousin Randy drives an ambulance down that way. Let me just say this: you are fucked up the old tail pipe, podna.”

Texas, too? But how could Jubal looked at the hills that comprised the walls of the valley that Serenity sat within. Could the same natural structure that had often protected the area from seriously bad weather have slowed the progress of whatever this was?

He wasn’t a geologist or pathologist. For all the good he was doing the town, he wasn’t even much of a law of?cer at the moment.

He noticed movement all round him. The crowd that had gathered to gawk at the sick woman had inched closer to his cruiser. Jubal realized that they could hear the radio, could hear what the drunken ambulance dispatcher had been saying. He pulled the cruiser’s door closed. Within seconds the interior of the vehicle turned into a furnace. The keys were deep in his pants pocket. He’d have to climb out again and stand up to reach them, so he let it go, hoping the conversation would be over soon.

“What am I supposed to do?” he said, painfully aware of the desperate note in his voice. “This woman has the symptoms you described, only ten times worse. And I’ve got a town of sick people getting sicker.”

For a few seconds, Jubal heard nothing but static. Then the voice of the dispatcher returned and he sounded sober. “Buddy, let me tell you a story. A year ago, there’s this kid graduating high school. Not a genius, but not a dummy, either, right? So he knows a guy who knows a guy who gets him a dispatching job at an ambulance company. This kid wants to do more, though, so the boss-who’s not a total asshole-gets the kid some EMT classes and he gets the kid licensed to drive the bus, so the kid can go on runs and make some extra cash. Now the kid is close to getting certi?ed. See, the kid could never get into medical school, but doing this-man, it’s like bein’ on the front lines, you know? And when he has his ticket, he’ll get a big bump in pay; the boss has already told him that. Good thing, too, ’cause this kid got his girl knocked up and he-he’s gonna be a dad. Only…only she’s not answerin’ her phone today and I’ve got such a terrible fuckin’ feelin’-”

The voice was replaced by static. Jubal couldn’t move. Even with sweat freely pouring into his eyes and down his sides, he sat there in the heat, holding the mic and waiting for the next words to come through the speaker. He thought about Fiona and their plans together.

“You still there?” the dispatcher said.

“Yeah, man.”

The unknown man sniffed. “I’m gonna take off. I’m the only one who showed up today and I’ve been stickin’ around like a fool, even though there’s nothing I can do.” He paused to take in a deep breath. “If you believe in God, pray. If you got any Indians left down there, get ’em to do a blessing. I got a real bad feeling that this won’t have a happy ending. Good luck to you. I got some things I gotta do.”

“Wait,” Jubal said. “You still there?”

The rattle of static was the only thing that he heard.

Jubal wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his hand. It was a futile effort, since he was perspiring faster than he could clean it away.

He had a hand on the door handle, ready to step out, when the radio came to life.

“What is it, man? I really have to go.” The dispatcher now sounded very tired.

Jubal keyed the microphone. “Earlier you said ‘even if I could get there.’ What did you mean?”

The man sighed. “You been on the highway lately?”

“No.” Jubal had spent the past couple of days in town, not wanting to be too far from his mother or the of?ce. He hadn’t been on the county back roads.

“When you get a chance, you ought take a look. Head up toward Carlsbad, if you like. Now I’m sorry for your troubles and I’m sorry for the way I acted when I?rst talked to you. I was raised better than that. But I’ve been drinkin’ some. That’s not an excuse. I’m just tellin’ you how it is. I hope things work out for you, but I suspect they won’t.”

The voice was gone.

Jubal got out of the cruiser, thankful for the small breeze. The air smelled funny, though. It might have been his imagination, but the back of his throat burned and his sinuses felt raw. He thought about plague germs, manufactured in some secret government laboratory in Nevada, now drifting down to Serenity.

No. This was not the time for that kind of thinking.

“Blankets.”

It took Jubal a moment to realize that someone had spoken to him.

“Jubal, I need blankets.” Fiona was next to him. She looked calm but serious.

“Why do you need-”

“I don’t know what’s going on, but everybody saw you close the door, and I can see your face. I’ve known you a long time, Jubal Slate. It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

He nodded.

“Okay.” She ran a hand over her mouth. Jubal had seen her father make the same gesture many times. “Okay. You can tell me later. Right now I want the blankets in your trunk.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s the sickest person I’ve ever seen and she’s laying on dusty blacktop while half the town-the half that isn’t sick-gets to stand around and watch. I have to do something.”

“Fiona, no. What she has, it’s catching.”

Fiona handed him a pair of surgical gloves. He saw that she wore a pair herself.

“We’re not the kind of people who stand around and watch. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

He swallowed. “I’m marrying one tough broad,” he said.

“You bet your ass. Now open your trunk.” She turned to the dozen or so people who were still milling around. “Taylor, Red. Get over here.”

Two middle-aged men shuf?ed over to Fiona.

Jubal dug the blankets out of the trunk. “We carrying her to the drug store?”

“And do what? Take her off the street and lay her on linoleum? Uh-uh. Put her on those blankets and put her in your car. We’ll take her to my house.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

She tossed him the box of surgical gloves and walked back to Rite-Aid.

“Here,” he said. He handed the box to Taylor and Red.

“Jubal, I got a bad back,” Red said.

“And she looks mighty bad,” Taylor said.

“Put on the gloves,” Jubal Slate said, “or as God is my witness, I’ll shoot your dicks off.” To press home his point, he rested his hand on his holster.

The two men slipped on the thin gloves in record time.

“The rest of you people, go about your business.”

They stared back at him; some with tears rolling down their cheeks.