“Excuse me?” Patrick questioned. “What’s wrong with the cots? It took a lot of thought and planning.”
“I have to squeeze through. When I do, I bump sick people.”
“Then don’t walk around. But I utilized a lot of space. We got over a hundred more cots in here than we thought.”
“That’s right.” Mick smiled. “And you also got over three thousand syringes prepared for immunizations, tubes for testing, tables… You have a lot to blame on yourself, and I say, if it wasn’t for you being so gung ho to help Lars, we wouldn’t have had the efficiency we have. That’s what I blame you for. Now the people of Lodi,” Mick added a joking tone to his voice, “I hear they’re wanting to hang you when it’s done.”
“That’s not…” Patrick paused to cough. He cringed as he grabbed his chest.
“You OK?” Mick asked.
“Yeah. Just a sharp pain.” He held the look of pain for a moment then let it go. “I’ll be fine.”
“Patrick, when this thing is done with, are you staying in Lodi?” Mick asked.
“I was thinking about it. We started that long term survival thing. Then again, I have the hideaway.”
“What’s that?”
“My final place,” Patrick explained. “Up on the Canadian side of the lake. A cabin, lots of land, secluded. I was going there when I couldn’t run in the States anymore.”
“Sounds nice.”
“It is. Why, wanna pack up everyone and go? Got the keys and the map at the house.”
“I might. Something to think about. But right now you…” Mick swatted Patrick’s leg as he stood up, “need to rest. I just wanted to stop by and torment you some.”
“And you did.” Patrick slightly shook his head and chuckled. “Immune.” He coughed and cringed.
“What can I say?” Mick lifted his hands with an arrogant look. He saw Patrick start to drift. “Patrick… one more thing. You said you should have never come to Lodi. I just wanna let you know, criminal or not,” Mick winked, “you’re a good guy. I’m really glad you ended up here. I made a friend in you I’d like to keep.”
“Thanks, Mick, that means a lot. More than you realize.”
Mick smiled gently. “Get some rest. I’ll check on you in the morning.”
With a soft “goodnight” Patrick closed his eyes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
October 2nd
Dylan made a mental reminder to have Mick check the water heater, because the hot water felt just a little cool. But even less than hot, the shower still felt refreshing. Of course, not as much as the four hours of sleep she had. It was the first time in days she had that much sleep at one time. Mick never woke her. He only left a note that he had checked the boys. Then again, that was a while ago and it was time to check them once more.
As she finished brushing her teeth, fully dressed and ready to start the day, Dylan opened the bathroom door and jumped, startled to see Dustin standing there. “I’m sorry, honey, all yours,” she told him.
“Mom?” Dustin cleared his throat. “I’m not sure, but I think I feel a little stuffy.”
With a sinking heart, Dylan lifted her hand to Dustin’s face. “You’re not warm.”
“So what do we do?”
“Oh, we take you down and get you tested.”
“Mom,” Dustin whined. “I get tested all the time.”
“And it doesn’t hurt to be safe.” Dylan saw that he was going to complain. “No arguments. Get dressed, I’ll check Tigger and then we’ll head down. Okay?”
Dustin nodded.
“Good. Get ready, I’ll be back.” Dylan kissed Dustin on the cheek and walked down the hall. Though she could have waited a little longer to check, previous false test or not, she wasn’t taking a chance. To Dylan, being uncertain meant any symptoms were mild, and mild symptoms told her that, if it was the flu, it was early enough to stop it.
Bodies lined up outside of the school were covered and waiting to be placed on the truck that would take them to the old Tool and Die building. The sight made Mick stop. A few hours earlier there wasn’t a line of deceased. He knew there were deaths. He had heard that from Haddock, who was doing pretty good at thwarting the flu.
Mick watched the few men that had volunteered lift the bodies. After saying a short prayer, he fell back on the thought that put him in a semi-good mood. Word from Lars was that the second wave was slowing down. Four more days and Lars was confident that all those in Lodi who would catch it would have caught it. The countdown was underway in Mick’s mind.
In the mood to harass Patrick, possibly torment him about slacking on his food stockpiling responsibilities, Mick entered the gym.
He could see Patrick lying on the cot sleeping and that added fuel to Mick’s playful fire. “Hey,” Mick called to him. “Man, sick or not, you are lazy.” He gave a light smack to Patrick as he walked around to face him. “You gonna get…” Mick froze. His heart dropped when he stared at Patrick’s wide open eyes “Oh my God.” Laying his hands on Patrick’s shoulder, Mick felt the coolness of his body. As he rolled Patrick onto his back, he saw the entire left side of Patrick’s body was black from the settled blood. “Lars,” Mick called out. “Lars!” Nearly hyperventilating, Mick shook his head. “Not you… not…”
“What hap…” Lars didn’t need to ask when his eyes fell upon Patrick’s body.
“Lars?” Mick questioned. “You said he beat this. You said he beat the septicemia.”
Lars swallowed with difficulty. “There are other things that are just as threatening. I keep… I keep telling people this, yet everyone remains so confident.” His final word dropped with an abundance of sadness. He lifted the blanket whispering, “I’m sorry, Patrick, my friend.”
Watching the interaction sent Mick into a flurry of confusion. He didn’t understand it; he had assumed all was fine. Patrick, not a few hours earlier, was fine. Mick had tried to keep a mental distance from all that was happening; that was how he stayed so strong. Yet here he was, unable to distance himself. Patrick was his friend. He didn’t know how to feel, or how to act. All he knew was that he had to get out of there. Hurrying through the narrow aisle of cots filled Mick with even more sadness as he rushed to leave the gym.
He flung the doors open in his haste to get outside, and the fresh air brought the vision of death again. Wanting badly to catch his bearings, Mick started to turn to walk away, but as he did, he saw Dylan and Dustin approach the gym.
“No,” he ground out. He knew they would only be approaching for one reason. “Dylan.” He raced over.
“Mick,” Dylan’s voice quivered a little.
“What’s wrong?” Mick asked.
“Dustin has the flu.”
Mick reached out laying his hands on Dustin’s face. “I’ll get him in there. Where’s Tigger?” he asked, almost panicked.
“Mick, calm down,” Dylan said, sensing his anxiety. “Tigger’s home. He’s fine. And Dustin…” She smiled. “He’ll be fine. We got it early.”
“Yeah.” Dustin smiled. “I don’t even feel sick. Just a little stuffy. Mom? Go on home with Tigger.”
Dylan nodded and embraced him. “I love you. I’ll be back when they hit you with that second dose.”
“Ok,” Dustin said. “Go on, though. Mick’s here.”
Sliding her hand down his face, Dylan backed up. “Take care of him, Mick.”
“I will.” Mick put his arm around Dustin. “Let’s get you inside.” He started to walk with him.
“You all right, Mick?” Dustin asked.