Lars swallowed with difficulty. “With my estimation of twelve hundred in this next wave that means that kids will make up a third. Let’s just try to keep our wits about us. Nothing was harder for me than to send a child back home with their parent and telling them… I’m sorry.” Shaking off the emotions brought on by that thought, Lars looked to Kurt. “How are preparations going?’
“We lost two of the doctors at the hospital. They’re down with the flu. I just don’t trust a quick training of anyone to do tests. So I went ahead and did some crash course IV training with folks. Let them start the IV and we’ll do the finger pricks. We may get overwhelmed, but at least the results will be accurate. I have slides prepared and ready to go for this second wave.”
Lars nodded. “Good. But this should be it. It should start tonight, hit hard through tomorrow afternoon, then fizzle. A trickle here and there over the next day or so, as you gentleman have seen, but that will be it. This time next week, the first of three wars will be over.”
Henry looked up curious. “Three?”
“Oh yes,” Lars replied. “Facing and conquering the flu is the first. Facing the grief will be a second battle. But the third will be the most difficult, and won’t be over within a week. That war will be facing tomorrow and surviving.” As he said that, Lars’ eyes raised when he heard the sliding of the curtain. “Patrick,” Lars said in rebuke. “Where is your mask?”
Patrick cleared his throat, but as he spoke, his words were thick. “I don’t need one. In fact I don’t think I need a confirmation test either. I’m pretty sure… no…” He closed his eyes. “I’m certain I have the flu.”
“Now, quit fussing.” Tom ordered and smacked away Marian’s hand as she fluffed his pillow.
“I have to fuss. You’re sick.”
“I’m home. I’m getting better.”
Marian gave a fling of a hand and finished up. “Juice.” She pointed to the glass on the table. “Remote.” She handed it to Tom. “John Wayne movie already in the player. You are ready to go.” After bending down to kiss him, Marian gave a quick sniff and smiled. “Get some rest.”
“Whoa. Hold up,” Tom called to her.
“Yes?” Marian looked back at him as she tried to leave.
“Are you sick?”
“Who, me?” Marin giggled. “Don’t be silly. I’m fine.”
“You sure? You sound stuffy…”
“Sinuses.” She held up her hand. “See, I was checked.”
“Let me look for the prick mark.”
“It’s there. Now watch your movie and rest.” She tried again to leave.
“Marian, I’m very serious. Are… are you sick?”
“No, Tom, no. I’ll check back in a bit.” Smiling once more, Marian pulled the bedroom door closed as she stepped into the hallway. Pausing there she lifted a tissue to her nose and wiped, taking a shivering breath as, feeling a chill, she wrapped her sweater tighter around her as she walked away.
Was his mother laughing? Thinking? Chris didn’t know, all he could see were her eyes, the rest of her face was covered with the blue mask. But he knew one thing for certain, his mother wasn’t crying and that made him feel good.
“Open up.” Dylan held the spoon near Chris’ mouth. “Take it.”
The spoon clanked as it glided against Chris’ teeth when he took the cough medicine and cringed.
“Lars said the cough has to break up.” She set the bottle on his dresser.
“It is breaking up. Listen.” Chris coughed and the congestion rumbled.
“Oh, that’s nice.” Dylan smiled and sat on the bed. “I’m glad you’re home.”
“I’m glad I’m home, too. It was bad down there, Mom. People crying, Mick kissing me all the time.”
Dylan snickered. “Mick kisses everybody. Been a problem of his since he was in school. How come you think he got beat up all the time? Kept on kissing people. Kissed your father once.”
“No, he did not.” Chris laughed which made him cough again. “But speaking of school. Will we ever go again, Mom?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I really don’t. Maybe when the flu is over, Patrick can teach.”
“Mick says Patrick has the flu.”
Dylan’s eyes widened. “He does?”
“Yep. When he stopped by this morning, he said he saw Patrick in the aid station.”
“Oh, no. I hope he gets better,” Dylan said with worry. “And poor Eunice Bender. They just started out. She’s probably really upset.”
“She died,” Chris said nonchalantly.
“Eunice Bender died?” Dylan asked shocked. “When?”
“Yesterday afternoon right before I came home. They were beating on her chest and stuff. Said she had infested heart failures.”
“Congestive heart failure?”
“That’s it.” Chris nodded. “I feel better, did I tell you that?”
“Yeah,” Dylan spoke dazed. “Did you see all this, Chris?”
“What? Eunice dying or them beating on her chest?”
“Both.”
“No.” Chris shook his head. “I saw them beating her, Lars and that Henry guy. But then the other little Burt or Kurt came over and said to them to stop. It was useless. Why do you think he said that Mom? Didn’t he like Eunice?”
“What he meant…” Dylan searched for the right words. “Was that Eunice probably was passed on for a while. Poor Patrick.”
“He has the flu.”
“You said that. And I…” Dylan quickly looked up when the door opened. “Dustin,” she scolded, “out.”
“I just wanted to say hi.” Dustin stepped inside.
“Me, too.” Tigger darted in.
“Out!” Dylan ordered.
“Can’t we stay by the door?” Dustin asked. “And just talk to him for a minute. We got our masks on.”
“Yeah,” Tigger repeated. “We got on our masks.”
“Mom?” Chris looked up to her. “They got on their masks.”
Dylan grumbled. “I know. But I’d rather keep you boys separated.”
Dustin laughed. “Mom, haven’t you figured out yet, there’s no way to keep us away from him.”
“I’m sure I can figure out some way,” Dylan spoke over Chris’ coughing.
“Mom, it’s called brother chivalry.” Dustin scoffed.
Noticing the violent sound of the cough, Dylan with concern, turned her head to Chris. “Are you all right?” She asked.
Mouth tightly closed, Chris nodded.
“What’s wrong?”
Cheeks puffed out, lips zipped, eyes watering, Chris muffled some noises.
“You need to spit?” Dylan asked, got another nod and lifted a cup to him. As soon as Chris relinquished what he held in his mouth, Dylan looked away from Chris to the loud sounds of disgust followed by the slamming of the door. Dustin and Tigger were gone. With a shrug she retrieved the cup. “Well, so much for brother chivalry.”
Mick shook his head, groaned and rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why I stop and visit you.”
Lying on the cot, refusing to show she was ill, Rose flipped him off.
“Nice. Thank you.”
“Use that authority and get my ass out of here.”
“It isn’t a matter of authority,” Mick said. “It’s a matter of getting the complete dose of antibiotics.”
“I can get them at home.”
“You get them here,” Mick argued. “They have to watch you. You can have a heart attack, have a reaction. Suddenly fall… silent.” He raised his eyebrow.
“Is that a fuckin’ dig?”
“Dig at what?” Mick tossed up his hands. “How come everyone else is either knocked out or loopy during this antibiotic phase and you’re still a feisty old broad.”