Jacqueline Druga - The Flu

“Hungry for ice cream?” Patrick asked.

“Yeah. I have this thing about having ice cream after… after…” Mick ripped open the package. “After a long day. So I thought I’d walk and enjoy it.” He smiled. “What brings you out?”

“Well, aside from thinking I would help with the festival setup, I needed to think.”

“Yes, you do,” Mick said snidely. “Oh…” he paused in the middle of his stride, “I hear you had a date with… Eunice Bender.”

Patrick froze. His face cringed. “That’s… that’s one of the things I am thinking about.”

“Strongly attracted to her?”

“Oh my God, Mick. I’m killing Tom over this. I really need someone to help me out here. You have a minute? This is something I can’t tell Lars about.”

Lars unexpectedly walked up behind him. “What can’t you tell me about?”

Like a child, Patrick spun around. “Nothing.”

“Oh, come on. Tell me,” Lars nudged. “Maybe my years of life experience can help.”

Mick bobbed his head as he pulled the ice cream bar from the wrapper. “He has a point. He is Lars Rayburn.”

“OK.” Patrick nodded then motioned his hand to the stairs of Tom’s video store. “Let’s sit.”

Lars raised his eyebrows. “A sitting talk. This will be good.” He took a seat next to Patrick on the top step.

“Shoot.” Mick sat on the last step.

“All right, you know I had this date with Eunice, right?” Patrick closed his eyes. “I’m in trouble. I don’t know what to do.”

“Go on. Tom fixed you up with her…” Mick took a bite of his ice cream.

Patrick shuddered with chills. “I can’t believe you just bit that bar.”

“Tell the damn story!” Mick snapped.

“I’m killing Tom,” Patrick hurried and looked at a snickering Lars. “What?”

“Nothing,” Lars giggled. “I know where this is going. Go on.”

Letting out a breath, Patrick continued, “I figured, what the hell, it’s someone to hang out with for an evening, so I go on this date. She makes pasta, which was good, we watch the movie and talk very little.”

Mick took another bite of his bar. “Where’s the problem? Everything sounded fine.”

“Here’s the problem,” Patrick said. “I figure, movie over, time to go. I say thanks, stand up, and walk to the door. She says…” Patrick’s voice grew nervous, “she says ‘what about a little goodnight kiss’?” He shrugged. “I think, one to the cheek. Okay. I pucker up… and she drops.”

“Drops?” Mick asked.

“Drops. To her knees. Zip.”

Mick choked.

Lars laughed.

“This isn’t funny,” Patrick said, seriously. “I didn’t know what to do. I tried to stop her, but, she proceeds to immediately, despite me trying to pull her from me, she grabs me and goes to town.”

Holding up his ice cream bar, Mick looked up to Patrick. “Let me get this straight. You want to leave. She wanted a kiss and instead she starts to…”

“Blow me, yes.”

Mick cringed. “Eunice Bender. Oh my God.”

“It gets worse,” Patrick stated. “She won’t let go. So right there, exposed, I have two choices. I figure, get forceful, or pretend she’s some hot super model and concentrate on the way it feels.”

Lars titled his head as if to say ‘not bad choices’.

Mick cringed again.

“I look down,” Patrick explained. “I see that dark hair. I’m thinking, ‘Okay, hot Italian actress’. I’m doing good, eyes closed and then…”

Waiting for an answer, Mick raised his eyes. “And then what?” He brought his ice-cream to his mouth.

“I hear slurp, slurp, slurp.”

“Aww, Jesus Christ. Did I need to hear that?”

“You asked. I tried again with the fantasy. But the slurp…”

“Patrick!” Mick barked. “Enough. So the… the noise turned you off and you left?”

“Um, no,” Patrick shook his head. “I started singing old Elvis songs in my head to block out the noise and well, I’m a guy, you know.”

Mick showed his disgust. “What the hell is the matter with you? Have some inner strength.”

“In Patrick’s defense,” Lars said, “Eunice Bender gives great head.” He absorbed the shocked glances from Mick and Patrick. “Oh, yes, she does—once you get past the noise. About twenty-five years ago I had the pleasure of indulging in her fellatio expertise. And I know exactly what you’re feeling, Patrick.” He reached over and patted Patrick on the knee.

“So then what happened?” Mick asked. “This ought to be good.”

“I freaked,” Patrick stated. “You know, it happened, I went over the edge, she stands up, grabs my hand and leads me to the couch. At this point I can’t run out the door. She shoves me down.”

Mick covered his eyes. “Please don’t tell me you had sex with her…”

“I thought ‘Oh shit, I’m gonna have to sleep with her now’. She stands before me, drops her underwear…”

“Enough,” Mick tried to interrupt.

“Lifts her skirt…”

“Patrick,” Mick groaned. “I’m trying to have my ice cream.”

“And masturbates in front of me.”

“She what!” Mick blasted out in shock.

“Masturbated.” Using his own hand to demonstrate, Patrick spoke like a teacher. “She took her hand, placed it…”

“I know what masturbating is,” Mick snapped.

“That’s what she did,” Patrick stated. “Said she didn’t trust a man to do what she did best.”

Lars nodded. “That’s Eunice. And don’t worry, Patrick. You didn’t use her. She used you. She’ll barely speak to you now.”

Patrick blinked. “How rude of her.”

Slowly, Mick shook his head. “I’ll never look at the woman the same way again.”

“Then good thing you aren’t me.” Patrick gave a nod. “ I’ll never look at the woman the same again. Mick, when she lifted that skirt, it wasn’t an attractive sight.”

Mick’s entire face winced. His ice cream was melting, and he wasn’t even getting a chance to enjoy it.

“Someone ought to sit down with that woman and tell her that nowadays, women landscape that area.”

“Thank you.” Mick huffed and stood up. “Thank you for ruining my ice cream.” He tossed it in the trash container. “Now, I’m forced to tell you…”

Curious, Patrick looked up to him. “Tell me what?”

“Got two new visitors at the front checkpoint today,” Mick said. “Wanted in. Wanted you.” He grinned. “They’re FBI.”

Patrick’s eyes widened. “Oh shit.”

“Wait,” Lars interrupted. “Are they idiots, or are we missing something? Don’t tell me the FBI is the only branch of the government to survive an apocalyptic flu?”

Mick shrugged. “Don’t know. They said they’re here for Rodriguez. They’re a determined pair, though. Sitting right out in a quarantine trailer.”

Patrick was in shock. “Mick, what do I do? Should I go?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mick told him.

“What do you mean, don’t worry about it?” Patrick asked. “Are you handing me over?”

“No. Don’t worry about it.” Mick waved his hand. “They aren’t getting in here. They’ll never step foot inside Lodi. Because I’m no doctor, I’m no scientist, but I didn’t have to be an Einstein to see…” Mick took his seat on the steps, “those two had the flu.”

Lodi, Ohio

September 26 th

Mick felt like he was going to puke. His stomach twitched and knotted, and the smell of grease that filled the air at the festival didn’t help much. Another flip of his insides, and Mick let out a slow breath through his slightly parted lips. He ran his hand down his clean shaven face then across his tie that looked a little out of place with his denim shirt and faded blue jeans. But his badge was extremely shiny.