Jacqueline Druga - The Flu

He no longer had to vomit. He controlled that, but he couldn’t control his feelings. The sadness overwhelmed him and, like a frightened child, Patrick turned and leaned into the wall of the school. His forehead pressed firmly into the wall as his fist pounded against the red brick. What did he do? What did he start? The hundred million dollars that caused the infected FBI agents to chase him to Lodi would never be enough money to bring back even one life lost to the flu. There was nothing that could do that.

Standing there, wanting to collapse and fold, Patrick started to cry. “I’m sorry, Lodi. I’m sorry.”

“And you’re sure you’re fine?” Dylan asked her mother who was sitting in Tom’s chair in a house robe.

“I’m sure,” Marian replied. “Go home.”

“You’re sniffling.”

“I’ve been crying. And,” Marian held up her finger, “I’ve been checked. Go home.”

“I will. I guess…” Dylan exhaled. “I guess I needed something to take my mind off of waiting for news about Chris.”

Marian reached out her hand and grabbed Dylan’s. “I believe he’ll be fine. Your father is gonna be, right? Patrick made sure he came over to tell me. Daddy beat that blood poison thing. So will Chris.”

Dylan fought her tears, and she nodded. “I think so, too.” She sniffled, trying to hold back her emotions. “I’ll go. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything.”

“Please.”

After leaning down and kissing her mother, Dylan looked once more at Marian and walked out. As soon as she stepped outside she saw Dustin walking up the path. Panicked, Dylan raced to him. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing. I… I thought I’d walk you home,” Dustin replied. “Rose said it would be nice.”

Letting out a breath, Dylan smiled softly. “Yeah. I need to be with you.”

“Tigger’s sleeping. Finally,” Dustin said as they started to walk.

“Rose put him to bed?”

“Nope. Won’t.”

Dylan stopped walking. “What do you mean?”

“She said she wants to hold him. Tigger’s so small, if he sniffs or feels warm, she wants to catch it right away. Sleeping or not.”

“Maybe we’ll all take turns doing that. Keep our mind off of Chris.”

“Mom?” Dustin questioned as they started to walk. “You think he’ll be all right?”

“I pray. It’s the longest twelve hours of my life… Dustin?” Dylan grabbed hold of his shoulders and stepped before him. “I need to tell you something.” At that instant, Dylan realized she had to look up. She actually had to look up to her son. “My God, are you tall.”

Dustin smiled.

“All you boys… all you boys are my life. My life force. You know?” Her hands slid to his arms as she spoke softly. “We all rally around Tigger to protect him. We baby Chris because he’s sensitive. But you, you project this big brother, grown up kid image. You’re so independent and strong that I know you think you get lost in the shuffle because you’re the oldest.”

“Mom…”

“Let me finish,” Dylan stated. “You may get lost in the shuffle but you are never, never lost in my shuffle, understand? I need you to know that. I know you’re strong, Dustin. I know you want to be a pillar, but promise me. Promise me that at the slightest twinge of this flu, you’ll tell me.”

“I promise, Mom.”

“I mean it,” Dylan was firm. “I would die if anything happened to you boys. I love you all. But you, Dustin, you are my oldest and for that you hold this… you hold this really special place in my heart no one can touch. I just wanted you to know that. Okay?” She winked softly.

“Okay.” Dustin kissed her on the cheek.

“Now… be the big guy and walk your mother home.”

“That’s why I’m here,” he said with joking arrogance.

Dylan started down the sidewalk. “I know you haven’t done it in a while because you’ve been too big. But for this walk… you think you can hold my hand?”

Dustin smiled and leaned to Dylan with a whisper. “As long as you don’t tell my friends.”

It was a laugh she needed, and not only did she grip Dustin’s hand, Dylan gripped Dustin for a little hope and strength.

Chris could have been two years old; that was how young he looked to Mick laying on that cot. In a fetal position, rolled up on his side, the intravenous tubing laid gently across him as the bag on the pole released its last few drops.

Mick sat in a chair right next to Chris. His hands held onto those of the boy, covering them completely. Mick leaned close, chin on his thumbs, face near to Chris’. He could smell the fever in each exhalation of Chris’ congested breaths. Occasionally he would bring his lips down to kiss Chris’ hand while he stared. Mick never left his side, not for a moment.

Mick would never have believed he could feel as much fear as he felt right then. Not just for Chris, but for Dustin, Tigger, Dylan, everyone. His entire body shuddered with the possibility of any of them getting sick. It was something he couldn’t control, no matter how hard he wished that he could.

The twelve hours had expired and Mick knew the news of Chris’ condition was imminent when he heard Lars approach the cot. Head still lowered, Mick only raised his eyes.

Lars wanted to yell at Mick but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. Aside from adding to the confusion, there was a sound reason that those who weren’t ill were prohibited from the observation bay. Exposure to the flu wasn’t just possible, it was probable. The germ permeated the air constantly, and Mick was breathing it in at a steady rate.

“Mick,” Lars said gently.

Mick let out a breath. “I watched you take out three more kids, Lars,” he said, dazedly. “You think that five, ten hours’ leeway to catch this thing, hey, it’s a lot of time, right? It’s not.” Mick’s voice dropped. “It’s not. Every minute, every second counts.”

“Yes, it does. Mick, every second you are in here counts, as well. Do you understand me? I cannot urge you enough to protect yourself.”

Mick shook his head.

“You are human. You are also the strength for this boy’s family. What if you get sick?”

“Then I get sick. And I’ll beat this, guaranteed. But, Lars…” Mick stared at Chris. “This is a child, a child who’s sick. He needs comfort and love. That’s why I’m here, and I’ll be damned if he’s gonna have to feel that through a pair of rubber gloves and the cloth of a face mask.”

“Your point has merit…”

“Tell me,” Mick’s voice cracked. “Tell me. It’s been twelve hours. You ran the test.”

“You know his levels were high when…”

“Tell me.” Mick closed his eyes tightly, clenching his facial muscles so tightly that the blood rushed to his ears.

“We need to hook him up for his second dose. His levels dropped. We’re on our way.”

Mick exhaled loudly with relief and grabbed Chris’ face and kissed him. “Did you hear that?” Overcome with emotion, he spoke to the boy. “Way to fight. Oh, I’m proud of you. I have to go tell your mom.” Mick stood up. “I’ll be back.” He touched Chris once more. “I’ll be right back.”

Mick hurried urgently from the observation bay. He knew he heard Lars calling out to him about not returning, but Mick ignored that. Not returning was not an option. At that moment all that Mick knew was that he had to go home and give Dylan the news.

Dylan had paced. The final hours were an eternity, but she couldn’t sleep. She went down to the gym four times and was sent away. The results would be given when they were complete. All she thought about was Chris. How she missed the first home run he ever hit because her hair appointment ran long. How she wanted to hear those long-winded stories he told so many times that she only pretended to hear. She felt insane with worry, sick to her stomach with sadness.