The Flu 1/2 (6 page)

She sat on a blanket in an emptier section of the park. Most people settled closer to where the band played, as if they couldn’t hear them if they were back some.

If the song ‘Come on Feel the Noise’ were being played at that instant by some band where the members barely surpassed twenty, Dylan supposed the park would be empty. However, since it was Dexter’s Rolling Rockers, there wasn’t an empty spot around the band left to dance. The group of sixty-year old men, who deliberately mocked the 1980s with tight ripped jeans and faded Quiet Riot tee shirts, blasted the tune at an appeasable level with minimal distortion, adding the smooth lounge band feel. Every couple, elderly and young, loved the band. Autographs were always asked for as if they were some sort of rock stars. Dylan had to admit she enjoyed the band, and though she really wanted to get some ice cream for herself, she knew the band’s set. Fearing that she’d miss their rendition of Duran-Duran’s ‘Hungry Like The Wolf’, Dylan stayed put.

The smile.

That was the first thing Mick saw when he arrived at Central Park. He didn’t want to be called away, but it was his job. It could have been worse; the four car minor fender bender could have Mick tied up for hours. Instead he observed the exchanging of information, hurried them along, issued citations he figured would be fought later, and moved on.

To Dylan.

Without a doubt, Mick was openly and absolutely crazy about Dylan. He had been for as long as he remembered. Since they were kids, there hadn’t been an instance that Mick didn’t seize the opportunity when Dylan and Sam broke up. Sometimes Mick and Dylan only dabbled in trying to be a couple, but nothing ever was serious or deep until the last breakup.

Mick had taken the breakup seriously, as did Dylan. Final. The end. Sam had left town, and against his own interests, Mick had located him. Sam had settled somewhere in West Texas and refused to return home.

That was fine with Mick. Dylan, on the other hand, didn’t take it as well. She went out a lot, drank too much. Mick followed her all the time, on duty or not, to make sure she was all right. A month after Sam left, Mick took yet another chance with her.

He gave her three choices that night in the bar. One, she could sit there and develop really bad posture from her habit of slouching on the barstool. Two, she could become the town’s newest lush, or three, instead of abusing alcohol, Dylan could just let Mick take away her pain.

Mick never expected her to take him up on his offer; he hoped, but he didn’t expect it. Perhaps he should have waited until she was sober before sleeping with her. But he got caught up in the moment, and he did chase her down several times the next day to make sure Dylan had no regrets. She didn’t.

That was six months earlier.

The relationship wasn’t exactly where he’d hoped it would be, but it was further than he thought it would be. And after all the years of waiting and chasing, despite what he outwardly showed Dylan, Mick was really happy with what they had.

“I’m back,” Mick announced just before he dropped down to the blanket next to Dylan. He watched her reach, lift her drink cup, wait until he was settled then she put it down. “Dylan, I wasn’t even close to knocking that over.”

“Oh, I wasn’t worried about that. See, you cause minor earthquakes when you drop that big body to the ground. I can just hear the Seismology department in Cleveland right now. ‘Oh, we have seismic activity.’ ‘Nah, that’s just Chief Owens sitting down.’”

Mick blinked at her. “Why do you have to kill me every single time?”

Dylan smiled.

Rolling onto his side, Mick leaned into Dylan and she backed up. “What? I want a kiss.”

“Right,” she scoffed. “No can do. That’s a blatant public display of affection.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, if I don’t get a greeting kiss from you, this big body, as you call it, will roll itself on that little body, and I’ll cite us both for indecent exposure and sell the story to the
Review
. Up to you.”

After a little smile, Dylan kissed him. “There.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She picked up her drink. “How was the accident?”

“Boring. Where are the boys?”

“Well, Tigger’s over there with...” she sighed as she pointed, “Patrick.”

“Stop that.”

Dylan giggled. “Dustin’s got himself a little girlfriend to talk to and Christian...” she pointed again, only to the stage, “he’s got his head buried in that amp.”

Mick laughed. “Oh, that is funny. But you have to admit, the band is kicking tonight.”

“Especially Dexter,” Dylan commented. “Sixty-five years old. I don’t think the man has stopped wiggling that body for over an hour. The energy that man must have.” She exhaled. “Probably has more energy than you.”

“Probably. He has a secret to that energy, you know. Brags about it all the time.”

“What? His energy?”

“Sexual energy.” Mick stole her drink.

“Oh, get out of here, he does not brag about that.” Dylan took her drink back.

“Does too. Heard him giving away his secret. Was saying at the diner, he jerks off every day after his morning piss, releasing the built up testosterone that wears him down, all while insuring longevity for whenever Lil Carter gives him a call.”

“Liar.”

“Am not lying. Can I make up lies that fast and that good off the top of my head?”

After thinking for a second, Dylan shook her head. “No. You’re too creatively impaired.”

“Geez, thank you for...” The hiss of his police radio and the call of the name ‘Chief’ made Mick cringe. “Goddamn it.” He picked up his radio. “Yeah.”

The male voice spoke, ‘Hey, Chief, got a carload of intoxicated kids out at Barrett’s farm. They hit his fence. Problem is Old Man Barrett’s got them tied down with a shotgun until the police arrive. You wanna take it or you want me to call County?”

“I’ll take it, thanks.” Mick hooked the radio back and sat up. “Duty calls.”

“No, it did not. County could have handled it. You just don’t want to miss anything.”

“You’re right.” Mick stole a quick kiss. “I shouldn’t be long, but if I am, can I stop by your house?”

“Yes.”

Mick’s mouth opened, he was preparing to argue, to ask, even beg, but he didn’t have to. “Yes? Just like that, yes?”

“Yes,” Dylan repeated.

“Aren’t we becoming the couple now?” Mick stood up. “I’ll see you in a bit.” Smiling, he walked off. He reached the end of the park thinking about the progress he and Dylan were making, turned around to wave again, and when he did, he froze. There approaching Dylan was Sam. It didn’t take Sam long to sit right down. Tucking away the progress thought before he jinxed it, Mick stuck his hand in his pocket, turned back around and kept on walking.

* * *

Before she took the long drink of cold beer, Dylan giggled and rubbed her eye as she sat on her front porch trying to catch a bit of relief from the heat. “God. How can I forget her?” Dylan said and flipped another page of the yearbook she shared while sitting with Sam.

“Ever see her?” Sam asked then took a drink of his beer.

“I did once. At a mall in Akron.” Dylan shrugged. “Has like three kids. Big as a house. Not happy.” She shrugged and flipped another page. “I can’t believe Tigger pulled these out.”

“Said he wants to show his new teacher.” Sam finished his beer. “What’s up with that, Dylan? Why regular school?”

Dylan shrugged. . “Don’t know. I want to give it a try. Why? You against it?”

“Nope. Tigger likes the kids he played with. It’s worth a shot.” Sam lifted the empty bottle. “I’m getting another.” He stood up and swayed. “Maybe not.” He sat back down.

“Drink too much?” Dylan turned a page. “I told you. You have no tolerance.”

“You’re right.”

“How are you gonna drive?” she asked.

“I’m kind of hoping...” he leaned his shoulder into her, “I don’t have to.”

Dylan lifted her eyes from the page of the yearbook and turned. Sam’s face was right there.

“Can I stay?” Sam asked. “I’ll sleep on the couch. I really had way too much. I mean I can wait until I sober up, if you...”

“No. You can stay.” Dylan returned to the yearbook.

“Well, in that case. Maybe I will have another beer. It is pretty...” Sam stopped when Dylan shrieked with laughter. “What?”

“My God.” She laughed and indicated to a picture. “Look at Mick.”

A snorted laugh escaped Sam. “I forgot how big he was. Looking back at that now, no wonder everyone called him Orca.”

“And short. Look how short Mick was.” Dylan smiled. “Who would have thought?”

“Was that the reason you never dated him back then?”

“What? His weight problem in high school?” Dylan shook her head. “No. Mick’s weight had nothing to do with it. I would have been all too happy to date Mick if, well, you know, if it wasn’t for you.”

Sam smiled. “Is it true?”

“What I’m saying?”

“No.” Sam shook his head. “Is it true about you and Mick now?”

Dylan remained silent.

“I know you two have that history, but Old Jim was saying that it’s pretty serious between you and Mick. Is it?”

Dylan’s mouth opened, but it was the nearby sound of Mick’s voice that replied.

“I’d like to hear the answer to that one too,” Mick said.

“Mick.” Dylan peered up into the darkness. “We were looking at the yearbook.” Her smile faltered when she saw the seriousness in Mick’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

After shifting his eyes to Sam, Mick looked again at Dylan. “Sorry I took so long. Something else happened out there.”

“That’s all right,” Dylan said.

“But...I’m here now.” Mick glanced pointedly at Sam and spoke politely. “If you were holding down the fort, Sam, things are fine. You can go.”

“Mick!” Dylan gasped in shock. “Can you be any ruder?”

“Yes,” Mick answered. “Sam?”

“I’m not.” Sam stood up and grabbed his empty beer bottle. “I’m staying tonight. Beer?” He showed the bottle to Mick then walked into the house.

After watching Sam walk into the house, Dylan turned back to Mick who was walking away. “Mick.” She hurried from the porch to catch him.

“Goodnight, Dylan.”

Dylan grabbed for his arm. “Stop. He’s not staying because of anything romantic. He’s had too much to drink.”

“Let him stay somewhere else.” Mick stated. “I don’t want him here all night with you.”

“You have no right to tell me that.”

A glare. A simple glare said it all and Mick pulled his arm away from Dylan. “You’re right. You are absolutely correct. I don’t have that right; I never had that right. Nor will I. I’m finished here, Dylan. I’m not gonna play this stupid tug-of-war emotional game with you. I’m not. I thought we had a chance, a real chance this time. I was wrong.” Mick started to leave again.

“Mick...don’t do this. Come on.” Dylan followed him.

“Are you done with Sam?” Mick asked.

“Yes. Yes, I am.” Dylan nodded emphatically.

Mick slowly and heavily raised his arm and pointed at the house. . “Then you go back in there, tell him ‘sorry’, stay the night at your Dad’s, his cousin Tony’s, anywhere but here. Hell, I’ll even fork over a hotel room for him, but you go and tell him he has to leave right now.”

Dylan took in the deeply serious look on Mick’s face. “Mick... I... I can’t do that.”

“Then I... I can’t do this, Dylan. I can’t. I’m sorry.” After one more look at Dylan, Mick turned and walked away. He hoped, he really hoped as he made it from her house out to the sidewalk, that at any second Dylan would call out to him. Chase him. She didn’t. The only thing Mick received as an answer to where her priorities lay was when he heard the slam of Dylan’s door, looked back, and she was gone.

Winston Research Station

16 Miles South Deadhorse, Alaska

August 26
^th

A pupil that didn’t respond, an iris no longer blue but gray, lifeless and dull. The light shining into the woman’s wide open eye told more than her dead, discolored face. With a heavy sigh of desperation and sadness, Paul Lafayette, in protective garb, moved the flashlight around the dark room in the research station.

Paul knew that he needn’t search for an answer as to what had happened to the sixteen people sprawled about the room. Remnants of their attempts at nourishment encircled their corpses. Particles of food were spread unfinished on paper plates about the room.

The only answers Paul needed were specifics. He hoped that the scientists had attempted to record what was happening to them, at least early on, and that one of them had documentation somewhere. He knew that, sick or not, he would have tried to leave a report.

But the emergency team that Paul arrived with was a skeleton crew. There were only four of them to sift through every detail in the station, seal it off, and collect samples. It would take days, maybe even weeks if the four of them were left to do it alone.