Jacqueline Druga - The Flu

Patrick chuckled a little in ridicule at that remark. “Lars, please. The festival signifies the end to our risk of the flu. At this point, I don’t think anything can ruin that celebration.”

Dairy, Ohio

The sound of the little girl’s cry still rang fresh in Jeff’s mind, no matter how many days it had been. He could see her, sitting alone, crying loudly and shrilly on the front steps of that apartment building. No family. No one. A hungry and dirty little girl, and Jeff and Darrell couldn’t leave her. It took hours to find the proper authorities to hand her over. And when they did, they finally made it to the border of Los Angeles they had only heard about and seen on the news.

“I told you asshole,” Darrell snapped at Jeff, “no one is left.”

The military border trucks left empty were mere monuments rather than deterrents. No one was around. Cars had been long abandoned, crunched in a major traffic jam and left behind. Bodies of those who had tried to make it past the border became rodent and fly food in a heat that produced the rancid odor of their decomposition.

How that one lone white cat had survived, Jeff couldn’t figure out. But it did, and they picked it up, taking it with them. Even on the four mile walk to get a car.

Barren.

Everywhere near Los Angeles was barren. It took that four miles to find people and that was where they found transportation, as well.

The journey was underway.

A simple purring meow from the small cat snapped Jeff from his thoughts of the previous three days. After a hard sneeze, he wiped his hand under his nose in a sloppy sniffle, and looked up from his seat in the diner booth to Darrell who returned from the washroom.

“Damn allergies.”

Darrell slid into the booth.

“Are your allergies bothering you too?”

“Yeah.” Darrell sniffed. “I can’t stop sneezing.”

“Me either. Probably the cat. They always set me off.”

“Me, too.”

“So…” Jeff’s hand ran up and down the fur of the feline. “Good thing the threat of the flu is over, huh? Or else I’d be scared.”

Darrell chuckled. “You aren’t kidding.” Shaking his head, he looked across the diner to the elderly man sitting at the counter, a diner completely and utterly empty with the exception of the lone man. “What’s up with him?” Darrell asked in a whisper.

“Don’t know. He keeps on staring at us.”

“I keep staring…” the man said with a country accent, “because I keep a-wondering what you boys are waiting for.”

“A menu would be nice,” Jeff said.

“A-huh. I see. A menu.” The old man stood up and walked over to the booth. As he crossed the floor, he grabbed two menus and dropped them on the table. “There ya go.”

Darrell looked up and smiled. “Thanks. We would love some coffee. It’s been a long trip.”

“Oh, sure.” The man winked. “Coffee would be nice at this moment. I have a cup myself sitting right over there, see?”

Jeff looked across the room in an attempt to pacify the man. “Yeah. Looks good.”

“Is good. Brewed it myself.” The man nodded. “Yep.” He exhaled. “Bet you boys would like to order some food too.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jeff gasped out. “We’re starved. “ How’re the burgers here?”

“Pretty good. The place is famous for its country fried steak.”

With a pleased look, Darrell glanced at Jeff. “That actually sounds really good.”

The old man nodded again. “Don’t it though. Welp…” he stepped back. “Gonna go sit down. Sorry I can’t help you out.”

“Whoa. Wait,” Jeff called out. “What do you mean?”

Slowly, almost too slowly, the man spoke. “I mean… I cannot help you out.”

“We’re… we’re hungry,” Darrell stated.

“Go fetch yourself something. Might be something in the back. Might not.” The man responded. “Can’t tell ya. Ain’t been back there. In fact…” He looked toward the kitchen. “No one’s been back there for a while.”

“What are you doing here?” Jeff questioned.

“Sitting. Having coffee. They have the best.” The man sat back down. “Don’t taste as good when you have to brew it yourself. Still good enough, though.”

Darrell, offended, asked, “Wait a minute. You mean no one’s here in the diner to serve food?”

The old man looked oddly at Darrell. “What’s it look like to you? Now, I am not a college-educated man, but I’d say, no one’s here to serve the food. The diner’s not open.”

“We’ve been here twenty minutes,” Jeff argued. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I wanted to see how long you’d wait.”

Darrell gasped. “That’s not right. And… the sign on the door says open. That’s very misleading.”

“To morons,” the man quipped. “Who in God’s name would drive into an empty town in this world now, and expect to get full service at a local diner? Morons.”

Darrell looked across the booth to Jeff. “I hope he’s not referring to us.”

“I don’t think so,” Jeff replied. “That would be rude. Then again he let us sit here for twenty minutes, and again, this is Ohio.”

“True,” Darrell agreed. “Let’s just hope Lodi isn’t this bad.”

“Let’s hope.” Jeff let out a loud sneeze. “Damn cat.”

Reston, Virginia

“Send them home,” Kurt spoke seriously and firmly to Henry. “It’s ridiculous.”

“No.” Henry shook his head. “They’ve been there this long, what is nine more days?” Henry questioned.

“A long time,” Kurt said. “It’s useless. It’s over. Reston was one of the last bigger cities to get hit. And look outside. It died with a whimper. So unlike LA, New York. Quietly. It’s over. In two days, Lodi will have made it.”

“That’s not true. They have nine left to go until we can declare this epidemic over.”

“What’s going to happen?” Kurt tossed up his hand. “No one has tried to get in there. Everyone has pretty much resigned themselves to this flu.”

“Except Lodi. No, Kurt.” Henry shook his head. “I don’t smell it. I don’t smell the feeling of victory yet, and I know I will when it’s done with and we have proceeded to save one entire town. Besides, they won’t take the order from me. Who am I?”

Kurt laughed. “Yeah, right. You, Henry, have become the head of the CDC, the WHO, FEMA and Dwight fuckin’ Eisenhower to the military men at the Lodi post. They’ll listen to you. Send them home.”

“As much as I want to, call it a hunch. Not yet,” Henry spoke rationally. “Not yet.”

“Fine.” Kurt gave up. “Change the subject… what did the Vice, I mean, new President say?”

“He is currently reorganizing his restructuring plan,” Henry explained. “That’s his answer. But if you want my opinion, not that he isn’t trying, I don’t think he knows what to grasp for the means to pull it off.”

“Do you think he will eventually?”

“Let’s just say I hope so.” Henry said. “Despite what it looks like, there are a lot of people left. And people in general, they tend to be followers. I’ll tell you, Kurt. If out of this whole mess a strong voice doesn’t rise above the ashes, we’re basically fucked. The masses need someone to lead them, give them direction. If someone doesn’t, mankind stands a good chance of fading away.”

“Why don’t you do it?” Kurt asked. “Be the voice?”

“Who, me?” Henry chuckled at that notion. “I’m not a leader.”

“You don’t think?” Hand extended, Kurt motioned around. “Look around. Look at how you kept all this going. Against the odds and in spite of a lack of technology, you managed to keep me alive and the Center operating. You have stats. You have it all. You haven’t left this post.”