Plague

'Guard,' panted McManus. 'You have to get me out here! This guy's got plague! Look at him — he's dying!' The guard peered anxiously through the bars. Edgar was twisting and groaning and clutching the bedclothes, trying to sound as if he was making his last struggle to fight off a virulent, fast-breeding disease.

His performance was convincing enough to make the guard unlock the cell door, and walk over to take a suspicious look at him. Edgar redoubled his cries and moans, and rolled his eyes up into his head so that only the whites were exposed.

Shark McManus softly stepped up behind the guard and hooked his revolver, pickpocket-style, out of his holster. Then he called, 'Okay, man, the plague's over for now!'

The guard swung around, reaching for a revolver that wasn't there. McManus was holding the gun in both hands, and there was a wan grin on his foxy face.

'Throw your keys down,' he said. 'On the floor, man, and no shit!'

The guard did as he was told. Edgar got down off his bunk, and stood uncertainly beside Shark — a reluctant lawbreaker who found himself increasingly committed to evading justice. He tried to smile reassuringly at the cop, but the cop just glared at him, and said nothing.

They locked the guard in their own cell, and walked swiftly and quietly along the corridor to the stairs.

Upstairs, treading as silently as they could, they found that McManus was right. The police station was almost deserted, except for a switchboard operator who was sitting behind a glass division with his back to them, busily dealing with emergency calls. They crossed the polished lobby, and they were out through the swing doors and into the night before anyone could notice.

'You see,' said McManus, 'it's a piece of cake.'

Edgar said nothing. Now he was out of jail, he felt less inclined to keep McManus with him. But a promise was a promise — and even more persuasive than Edgar's honor was the fact that McManus was now armed. Edgar said, 'This way,' and they began to walk through the night towards the crossroads.

They kept as close as they could to buildings and shadows, but even Edgar doubted if anyone was out looking for them. The night was different — there was a curious atmosphere about it that made him both excited and fearful. He could hear ambulance sirens warbling along the highway to Newark, and there was hardly any traffic around at all. A couple of police cars passed them by, and they squeezed themselves in the doorway of a delicatessen, but the cars were silently speeding on a more important errand, their red lights flashing urgently through the dark.

'How far is your house now?' asked Shark McManus. 'You know that when they start looking, that's the first place they're gonna check up on.'

'Just around the next corner,' panted Edgar. 'That's it — the one with the hacienda ironwork.'

McManus nodded. 'Nice residence, man. Looks like it pays to run a supermarket.'

Edgar glanced at him and said nothing. McManus added, edgily, 'Well, I guess you have to make allowances for accidental damage.'

Edgar rang the door-chimes. There was a long pause, and for a moment he thought that Tammy had gone away, or was lying upstairs dead. But then the light went on in the hall, and she came to the door in her pink dressing gown and curlers.

'Edgar! What's happened? Did they let you out?' Edgar stepped quickly inside the house, hurried Shark McManus in after him, and closed the door. He kissed Tammy, and held her close to him, for a moment too overwhelmed to speak.

'Er — Tammy, this is someone who helped me.'

'Someone who helped you? What do you mean?'

'We just broke out of the jail. The plague is everywhere, Tammy, and they're not even looking for us. We have to get away.'

Tammy was incredulous. 'You broke out? But why?'

'Tammy, we have to get away. Shark says there are bodies in the streets — out at the crossroads. The plague is everywhere. There are people dying like flies.'

'That's true, ma'am,' nodded McManus. 'Flies.' Tammy looked from Shark to Edgar and back again. 'It said on the news it was okay. They said the state was in quarantine, and that nobody was supposed to leave, but it was all right if you stayed indoors.'

Shark shook his head. 'Baloney. I been out on the street and I seen it. This thing kills you like you wouldn't believe. I saw four stiffs on main street alone. I rolled a couple of 'em for jewelery. They must have died instant.' Tammy frowned anxiously at Shark, and said, 'Edgar — is this boy a criminal?'

Shark held out his hand. 'Oh, don't you worry about me, ma'am. I'm strictly from petty larceny. You know — phone booths, that kind of stuff. I just came along with your husband here to help.'

Edgar took Tammy's arm, and gripped it firmly to communicate his tension and his seriousness. 'Darling — this is our only chance. Shark knows the streets, and how to avoid the law. He got me out of jail in about five minutes. I swear it. Apart from that, he has a gun.'

Shark waved his heavy black police.38. 'You see? Fully loaded, too!'

Tammy looked at Shark and she saw in his eyes the cold concealed threat that even Edgar hadn't detected yet. 'I see,' she said quietly. 'In that case, I suppose I'd better get the children ready.' Edgar could see she was upset. He reached for her hand again as she turned to go upstairs. 'Tammy,' he said, 'you have to see that this is the only way.' Tammy didn't turn around. 'If you say so, Edgar.' She went upstairs, and Edgar watched her go, biting his lip.

Shark, tucking his revolver back in his pants, said, 'Hey, man, I hope I haven't caused you any domestic whatitsname. You know? I may rip off a few stores now and then, but I ain't no homebreaker.'

Edgar shook his head. 'I don't think you could break us up if you tried, Shark. Tammy and me — well, people say we're inseparable.'

Shark grinned. 'That's cute, man. I love a story with a happy ending.'

It didn't take Tammy long to get everything packed. She loaded the Mercury wagon with canned food, blankets, medical supplies, water, soft drinks and spare clothes. Shark McManus kept a lookout for police cars, but the streets of Edgar Paston's tidy suburb were silent under the early-morning stars, and the only sign of life was a neighbor's curtain, twitching suspiciously as they prepared to leave.

At three-fifteen, they locked up the house. Chrissie and Marvin, yawning, climbed into the back of the car with Tammy, while Edgar drove and Shark McManus sat next to him. Shark kept his revolver resting on his lap. He was behaving amiably, but he was also making it dear that any interference or argument would not particularly amuse him. They kept the radio playing in case there was any news of National Guard blockades or possible escape routes from Jersey.

Every half-hour, there was a plague bulletin, and a repeated message telling people what to do if they thought they had plague. The message was sober, but it was also absurdly optimistic, arid if you didn't know how terrifyingly quickly the plague had spread across the Eastern seaboard, you could have been forgiven for thinking that your pallor, your pains and your chronic diahorrea were nothing worse than a severe tummy bug. The Pastons and Shark McManus drove through the pallid night into the early dawn. They were flagged down once by a motorcycle cop just outside Jersey City, but he seemed more interested in checking Edgar's driver's license than questioning their destination. He looked around the station wagon a couple of times, and then waved them on. He was obviously tired out after a night's duty.

The radio said, 'Now, it's important not to let your anxiety about this epidemic prompt you into ill-considered action. The federal authorities in charge of this situation say that the best thing you can do — safer for your family and safer for your neighbors — is to stay home. If you do not have sufficient foodstuffs to last you — well, simply wave a makeshift flag or banner from your windows, and your local police department will bring you supplies. Stay at home, folks — it's the sensible way, and it's the safest way.'