Plague

Dr. Petrie put down the story-book and stood up. 'I think the most important thing now is to work out how we're going to survive. What is it — Tuesday? I guess anyone who was left on the streets on Sunday will be dead of plague by now. It should be pretty safe outside as far as looters and muggers are concerned.'

'What about rats?' asked Adelaide.

Dr. Petrie ran his hand through his hair. 'I'm not sure about rats. If anything, the rats will probably have gotten worse.'

'So what are we going to do?' asked Mrs. Garunisch. 'I mean — those rats are so fierce. I can't bear the thought of them.'

'The water's off,' called Esmeralda from the kitchen. 'That means we don't even have anything to drink.'

'Plenty of whiskey,' said Garunisch wryly, holding up Ivor Glantz's crystal decanter.

'Does anyone here have a car?' Dr. Petrie asked.

'A car?' frowned Garunisch. 'What the hell do you want with a car?'

'Well,' said Dr. Petrie, 'if the rats are really bad, then it's going to be too dangerous for all of us to get out of here at one time. It only needs one person to trip or fall, and the whole party could be put at risk. But if one or two could wrap themselves up in blankets or something, and make protective helmets to cover our faces, then maybe we could make it to the basement car park.'

'Then what happens?' said Garunisch. 'This is a dead city. Where do you think you're going to get help?'

'You have enough food for two or three days. That's all it should take to drive out of the plague zone and organize some kind of airborne rescue. Let's not kid ourselves — you're all wealthy people, and if anyone can get rescued, you can.'

Mrs. Garunisch furrowed her brow. 'Supposing we don't get rescued?' she said anxiously. 'What then?'

Kenneth Garunisch reached over and took her hand. 'Gay,' he said gently, 'we've never talked like that and we never will. The doctor's right — we've got as good a chance as anyone.'

Dr. Petrie went to the walnut sideboard and picked up a heavy sheaf of papers. 'More important than any of us, though,' he said, 'is this.'

Mrs. Garunisch peered at the sheaf suspiciously. 'What's that?' she asked sharply.

'This is the mathematical work on the plague that Ivor Glantz left unfinished,' explained Dr. Petrie. 'I'm not a research scientist, but I've looked through it, and as far as I'm able to understand, it's sound. I think that if we can get these papers to the federal government, we can persuade them to investigate the idea further, and with any luck at all we could help to stamp out the plague. Whoever gets out of here will not only have the task of sending help to the rest, but they'll have the vital responsibility of delivering these papers to the department of health.'

'How do we know the whole country hasn't been wiped out?' said Nicholas. 'I mean — Jesus — the whole of New York in three days!'

Dr. Petrie riffled through the papers of equations and formulae. 'We don't know. The last we heard, they'd managed to hold the plague at the Alleghenies. Maybe the situation's worse by now. It probably is. But if we can get these papers to Washington in time… Well, who knows? We might be able to save the mid-West and the West Coast.'

Kenneth Garunisch said, 'Well… that sounds impressive enough. You could have had my car, but I left the keys in my apartment.'

'Esmeralda?' asked Dr. Petrie. 'How about you?'

'I left mine parked on the street,' said Esmeralda. 'I expect it's a total wreck by now.'

Nicholas said, 'I should think that Herbert's Mercedes is okay. It's in the basement. I have the keys here — he always left them with me.'

Kenneth Garunisch looked at him appreciatively. 'Looks like Captain Dashfoot did us a good turn after all.'

'It's only a two-seater,' said Nicholas. 'There's a kind of small contingency seat at the back, but you couldn't travel for very far in that.'

Kenneth Garunisch opened the cigarette box on the table and took out the last of Ivor Glantz's cigarettes. 'In that case,' he said, striking a light, 'I suggest that Dr. Petrie goes, and takes his daughter along with him. Prickles would fit in the back — wouldn't you, Prickles?'

Prickles nodded shyly.

Dr. Petrie said, 'No — this has to be fair. I suggest we draw straws, and give everybody a chance.'

Garunisch pulled a face. 'Don't talk dumb. Supposing Gay draws it. How's she going to get out of this goddamned rat-infested building, drive all the way to Washington, and then convince the federal department of health that she's found a way to cure the plague? Gay couldn't convince the Mother's Union that fish paste sandwiches are better value than bagels and lox.'

'Ken,' said Mrs. Garunisch, hurt.

Garunisch put his arm around her. 'Don't take it the wrong way, Gay, but it's true. Dr. Petrie has to go. It's his idea, anyway. Can you imagine me trying to sell it? You know what they think of me in Washington right now. Or Nicholas here, in his sailor suit?'

'There's still a spare seat,' said Dr. Petrie.

Adelaide, sitting next to him, looked up. She frowned, and said, 'But surely — '

'That's true,' said Garunisch, interrupting her. 'We can draw lots for that. Esmeralda — do you have any drinking straws?'

'Of course,' said Esmeralda, and went into the kitchen to fetch them.

Adelaide tugged gently at Dr. Petrie's sleeve. He turned around.

'Leonard,' she whispered. 'I thought that — '

He put his finger to his lips. 'Don't worry. Whatever happens, you'll be okay.'

'But I want to go with you!'

He laid his hand over hers. 'Darling — we're all in this together. We all have to take the same risks. Trying to get out of here is going to be far more dangerous than staying. If you ask me, Herbert Gaines didn't even make it upstairs.'

'That's not the point!'

'Sshh,' he said. Esmeralda had come back with the straws. She handed them to Dr. Petrie along with a pair of kitchen scissors.

'Okay,' said Garunisch. 'Cut them to different lengths, and whoever draws the longest straw gets to go. Agreed?'

Dr. Petrie trimmed the straws. Keeping his back turned, he arranged them in his hand. Then he walked over and offered them to Nicholas.

Nicholas plucked one out quickly, with his eyes shut. 'It's a short one,' he said, 'I know it is.'

He held it up. It was.

Dr. Petrie moved across to Kenneth Garunisch. The old union leader thought for a while, rubbing his chin, and then he carefully picked the straw in the middle. It was longer than Nicholas' straw, but it was still short. He shrugged, and twisted it up.

Mrs. Garunisch was next. She was dithering and anxious. She didn't actually want to pick the longest straw, because she preferred to stay with her husband, but she knew how insistent he was on playing by the rules. If she picked it, he would make her go.

She pulled one out. It was short. She let out a big puff of relief.

Adelaide looked across at Esmeralda. 'Her first,' she said to Dr. Petrie.

Dr. Petrie shook his head. 'I'm going around the room clockwise,' he said.

Adelaide lifted her eyes and stared at Dr. Petrie for a long moment. He stared back, sadly. They say that a woman can always sense when a man no longer wants her, and he wondered how it showed. He wondered, too, when he had stopped wanting her. It hadn't happened all at once, and it was nothing to do with Esmeralda. What had happened last night had been no more than a human attempt to feel something after so much misery.

Maybe the whole experience since the beginning of the plague had changed him, and made him come to terms with what he really was and what he wanted to be. It seemed to him now that Adelaide was part of a life that had become remote and irrelevant. Like tennis, and swimming, and Normandy Shores Golf Club.

'Pick,' he said softly, holding out the two remaining straws.