The Flu 2: Healing (20 page)

“I’m not sure,” she said. “They keep coming in, looking at you, then leaving. They’ll be back in again. Please,” she begged, “lay down.”

“I’m not afraid,” Rose said.

“No, but you’re hurt. Bad too,” she told Rose. “Just lay still. If they bring me water, I’ll give you some, okay?” She looked over shoulder, so frightened. “Lay still.” With that she scurried away.

Lay still?
That wasn’t too hard of a request considering every movement caused her agony. The pain in her side was beyond bad. It was almost too difficult to breathe, which was why Rose couldn’t talk. Through shallow breaths, Rose whispered. “Do you have a towel? Something, I can press against my side?”

Rose was lying on the painful side, but knew, if the rib was broken — and she was sure it was — that was the best way to lay and put some pressure on it.

“A towel isn’t going to help your side,” the girl said, her eyes constantly shifting toward the window.

“Please, something,” Rose pleaded.

The girl huffed a breath and quickly, in a crouched position, hurried across the room, grabbed another canvas sack and brought it to Rose. “Do you need it bunched up?”

“Yes, thanks.”

The girl brought her bottom lip into her mouth, rolled the bag and looked over her shoulder. It was evident to Rose that she was terrified. “Here.” She gave it to Rose without looking, then hurried away.

It would have to do, and Rose would have to use her energy to hoist up enough to tuck the bag under her. When she did, she saw why the girl told her the bag wouldn’t help. As soon as she pulled from the ground, even a little, Rose realized it wasn’t the head or eye that caused the wet canvas, it was her side.

Blood poured out from her side. The question of whether or not her rib was broken was answered when she saw the bone protruding from the open wound.

Rose wasn’t just injured, she was pretty sure she was dying.

* * *

Las Vegas, NV

Lexi didn’t have a clue what do to. She’d studied smallpox but was never fortunate enough to work in the field with the cases. It honestly tumbled her back and scared her.

She did the best she could, examining them, but the sight of the bloodied and yellow stained sheets made her stomach turn.

Smallpox.
It was not only highly contagious, but those who survived were never the same physically.

The three people in the hotel room felt horrible and they conveyed that when they started to ‘spot’ they were pretty sure they knew what it could be, so they’d stayed away from others.

Lexi told them she wasn’t sure how to handle it, but would find out. She promised. She examined them, took their information and said she’d be back.

As soon as she left the hotel, she told Matt. “They can’t leave. I also need your men, to be cautious and check the area for more cases.” She scrubbed her hands with sanitizer.

“Is that what I think it is?” Matt asked.

“Oh, yeah.”

Bill ran his hand down his face. “What the hell, Lexi? Can our people at the hotel have early symptoms? I saw a documentary once and it said that it starts out like the flu.”

“I don’t know, but I will find out. Maybe Henry had a chance to review those pictures we sent. If not, this may give him a lead.” Lexi pulled out her phone and dialed. It took only two rings and Henry answered.

“Lexi, I’m glad you called. We were just about to call you,” Henry said.

“Oh, Henry, I have to tell you something.”

“We have to tell you something too, but Lars Rayburn wants to be the one.”

“Lars … Lars wants to speak to me?”

“Yeah, he was the one who figured it out. Hold on, he’s down the hall. It’ll take me a minute.”

Lexi’s eyes widened and she turned to Bill. “
Lars Rayburn
wants to speak to me.
Me
. Oh my God.” She laid a hand on her chest. “I am so not worthy.”

“What the hell?” Bill laughed then blinked several times. “Okay, you mentioned his name before. He’s just a doctor, why are you so excited?”

“It’s Lars Rayburn.
Lars
Rayburn.
Only the most brilliant mind in all of virology,
and
he saved Lodi, sort of. Lars …” she gasped. “Wow. I get to speak to Lars Rayburn. He also penned a dozen romance novels under a pseudonym, too.”

“A sensitive virologist. Hmm. No wonder you’re acting like he’s some sort of Donny Osmond.”

“Who?” Lexi asked.

Bill waved her off.

Suddenly, Lexi spun. “Yes, Lars, I am here.”

“So wonderful to speak to you,” Lars said. “And I heard wonderful things about you. Good job.”

“Thank you. It’s an honor.”

“I have news for you, Lexi. I looked at your virus photos.”

“I have news too. Scary news.”

“Please, go first,” Lars said.

“Three more sick people were found. Holed up in an old motel. Lars, they … they have smallpox.”

“Smallpox, you say? Well, my dear, you seem to be in a pickle in your Sin City depot stop. Aside from your three smallpox patients,” Lars paused for dramatic effect, “you have four people with SARS.”

Lexi dropped the phone.

* * *

Even though the lady Mary seemed nice enough, Jake told Chris he felt better staying with Emmie. Mary invited Chris and Tigger to stay with her, but Chris declined. Her apartment was small and Jonah Briggs gave Chris and Tigger their own small room to share. Plus, Chris liked the big eating room they had at the base. Not to mention, he felt safer there.

He thought it was cool that Jonah Briggs was hanging out with them. He made a lot of calls and people came in a lot, but Jonah told Chris he enjoyed their company. And, he would need him to call his grandfather in a little bit.

Something was up. Chris knew it. He couldn’t figure it out, and was hoping for a clue when Jon came in the room and pulled Jonah Briggs aside.

Chris hushed Tigger so he could listen. Jon didn’t say much. He whispered that two Indiana men had a flat tire and were hanging back as instructed a few days.

Jonah sighed.

Chris wondered why a flat tire was a good thing.

Then Jon told him that ‘they still couldn’t get through’ and that’s when Chris’ interest was piqued.

Jonah Briggs replied, “Keep trying. If no luck, we’ll have Chris to try his grandfather.”

Jon left and Briggs went back to the card game.

“Something happen in Lodi?” Chris asked.

“No. No,” Briggs replied. “Why?”

“Well you told Jon that I could call my pap.”

“We’re watching a situation,” Briggs winked. “No worries. Take your turn.”

“It’s my turn, thank you.” Tigger laid his card down. “Don’t give Chris my turn. He cheats as it is.”

“Now why would you say that?” Chris asked.

“You do illegal stuff,” Tigger replied. “Like driving a car without a license.”

“I drove ‘cause I had to,” Chris said in his defense. “I did good too, even if I hit him.” He pointed to Briggs. “Your head okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m tough.”

“You thinking anymore about taking on my stepfather in a return to wrestling match?” Chris asked before he took his turn.

Briggs laughed. “You’re obsessed with this.”

“It’s for my brother,” Chris said sadly. “He loved wrestling. We both did. It was our ‘thing’.”

Slowly Briggs raised his eyes. “Well, maybe then for that reason.”

Tigger spoke up. “You’ll win.”

Chris gasped. “I can’t believe you said that! Mick is tough. Didn’t he protect our whole town? Just because Mick is getting old and got a big stomach doesn’t mean he can’t maneuver in the ring.”

“This Mick,” Briggs said, “he sounds like a good guy.”

“He is,” Chris said. “He’s great. Been in our lives our whole lives, even if he wasn’t married to our mom. He’s always been around.”

“He’s emotional,” Tigger added.

Briggs coughed out a laugh. “You use big words, little man.”

“I’m smart. I have to be. I’m too little to be anything else.”

“But, he’s right,” Christ stated. “Mick
is
emotional. Cries all the time and stuff.”

“I’m telling,” Tigger snickered.

“Go on, I’ll tell him you said he can’t fight.”

“I didn’t say he can’t fight. I said Jonah Briggs will beat him.”

“Jonah Briggs is big but I don’t know if he can beat Mick.” Chris turned to Briggs. “No offense, Jonah Briggs.”

Jonah smiled. “Pick a name guys. Jonah. Or Briggs. Or Skip.”

Both Chris and Tigger burst into laughter.

“What?” Jonah asked. “That was my nickname growing up.

“
Skip?”
Chris fluttered his lips. “Oh, I wouldn’t be telling people you had a nickname like Skip. They may pick on you.” He paused when Briggs merely raised an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe they wouldn’t.”

“Jonah?” Jon said as he stepped into the room.

Briggs held up his hand to the boys and stood. “What’s up?”

“Erie guys are back and said they really need to speak to you.” Jon said. “And …” he shifted his eyes. “There’s this really big biker looking guy here saying he wants his kids.”

Before Briggs could question, before anything came from his mouth, a loud shriek from both Chris and Tigger rang out as they shouted “Mick!”

They jumped to their feet and as they did, Mick rushed into the room, passed Jon and Briggs and didn’t make it two feet before he was blasted bodily by the boys.

* * *

Mick dropped to his knees and took both boys into his arms. “Oh my God,” he said, his voice gravelly with emotion. He held them tight, wanting to just absorb them into his body, being and soul. He could barely breathe his chest felt so full. His throat closed and tensed, making it even harder to talk. There he was, holding them, feeling them, when he thought he had lost them. “Oh my God, I am so glad to see you boys. I was scared I’d never see you again. So scared.”

His hand grasped the back of Chris’ head and his other arm had Tigger tight to him. He kissed Chris, then Tigger, then repeated kissing them again. “Thank God. Thank God.”

“I … can’t … breathe,” Tigger gasped. “You’re strangling … me.”

Mick laughed and released his hold. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s good to see you too, Mick.” Chris grinned. “Boy we missed you.”

“And I missed that.” Mick touched Chris’ smile. “I was so worried.” He kissed Chris again then turned to Tigger. “And you.” He put both his hands to Tigger’s face, and plastered him with kisses.

Tigger accepted the kisses, but not for long. He crinkled his face, shook his head and said. “Enough please.”

“Sorry.” Mick sniffed and ran the back of his hand under his nose.

“You okay, Mick?” Chris asked.

Mick nodded.

“You crying, Mick?” Tigger asked. “We’re okay, we aren’t hurt. We’re good. Why are you crying?”

Chris gave a light backhand to Tigger. “Knock it off, he ain’t crying. You can’t be saying Mick’s crying. Not in front of…” He motioned his head upward.

In the midst of the reunion, Mick didn’t see or notice the other man in the room. How he missed him, he didn’t know. Mick stood up and extended his hand. “Mick Owens.”

“I figured as much,” Briggs shook his hand. “Jonah Briggs.”

“Thank you.” Mick held firm to his hand for another moment. “Thank you so much for taking care of them. For finding them.”

Briggs shook his head. “They found me.”

Tigger added. “Chris hit him with the car.”

“What?” Mick looked down to Chris.

Nonchalantly, Chris waved his hand. “It was not real bad. I was driving and I hit him. He’s okay, though. See? He don’t go down easily. Not that if you guys were to square off that he wouldn’t go down.”

Mick looked to Briggs. “He really hit you?”

“Yeah, but it was my fault,” Briggs replied. “I was standing in the road. Your boys speak often and very highly of you.”

Mick looked at Chris and Tigger. “They’re my world.”

“And you’re theirs,” Briggs said. “Well, if you’ll excuse me. You must be hungry and thirsty. Help yourself. I need to talk to Wentworth and I’ll be right back.” He shook Mick’s hand again. “Glad you guys are reunited. Chris, show him where the food is.”

“Yes, sir, Jonah Briggs.” Chris lifted his hand as Briggs left. He rambled on to Mick in typical Chris fashion. “He’s a nice guy, Mick. Didn’t hurt us, yell or anything. Been real good to us. Fed us, got us clean. I’m not joining the army or anything, I’m dressed like this cause that’s all he had. My clothes smelled ‘cause Tigger kept peeing his pants.”