The Flu 2: Healing (33 page)

Lars sighed. “No, I am not. The antidote worked on me. And I am developing antibodies, Mick, so hang tight.” He tapped Mick’s arm.

Mick screamed.

“God, you’re such a baby.” Lars stepped back. “I have to be away from home, I wish this could be more tolerable for both of us. Now I have to get back to the lab.” He walked to the door. “Do you need anything?”

“No.” Mick shook his head.

“Make sure you respond back to the message from Chris,” Lars told him. “I know your fingers are swollen and hurt, but he knew it was me writing it the last time because I used punctuation.”

“I’ll call him instead.”

Lars reached for the door. “Just try not to do that Mick moaning and groaning thing, the boy is worried enough.”

Mick grunted. “Lars?”

“Yeah?”

“Be honest. How are we doing with all this? Was it worth it?”

“Absolutely, Mick. I’ll be one hundred percent honest with you. You still are not out of the woods and we may yet lose you, but damned if we both aren’t fighters. Plus, we’re getting close. We are getting so close.”

Lars took another look at Mick, who had suffered through an illness that should have killed him days earlier. It was a tough road, and Lars wasn’t the most confident, but he was determined.

Whether his efforts would work remained to be seen and only time would tell.

21. Moving Forward

Fifteen Years Later

Erie, PA

Jonah Briggs paused in his walking the stairs. His knees hurt. When they went bad, he didn’t know. He was able to get some fishing in earlier, the weather was nice, but it was back to work. Things weren’t too bad. Biggest problem was with the wheat crops and some of the manufacturing.

He returned to his office a few minutes earlier, carrying a box.

“Tigger, damn it,” Briggs said as he opened his office door. “Get out from behind my desk.”

“Really?” Tigger slid from the chair. “No, ‘hey how are you’? How was Virginia? Glad to see you back?”

“You called every day. Everything okay?”

Tigger was in uniform. A tailor made uniform to fit his size. He was proportionate but still small. He had never really grown much through the years. “Yeah, good. Just like Farmer Joe said.”

“Farmer who?” Briggs set the box on his desk and sat down with an exhale.

“Farmer Joe, the guy who runs the big tobacco farm.”

“That’s Joseph Farms.”

“Same difference. Why are you grunting? You getting old?”

“Yeah, Tig. I am. I want to retire, but Wentworth won’t take over.”

“I can.”

Briggs laughed. “Uh no. Napoleon had his reign, we don’t need a repeat of history.”

“Oh man, is that dig toward my size?”

“No, it’s a dig toward your tyrant attitude, asshole.”

Tigger laughed. “Anyhow, field is clean. They were right. Those goofy half-dressed Indian acting things were raiding the fields. Man, you’d think it was corn or weed. Which by the way—”

“No.” Briggs snapped off a reply. “Don’t ask again.”

“Can I have a drink?” Tigger pointed to the bottle on the desk.

“Go to the bar. It’s open.”

“You are tough on me.” Tigger shook his head.

“Someone has to be. Everyone else is scared of you. Three reports last month of you pushing your weight around.”

“You reprimanded me. I took the punishment.” Tigger tossed up his hands. “Anyhow, I’ll go to the bar. I wanted to see Chris before he left. Can I see it before you give it to him?”

“No.” Briggs replied. “And he should be here any—” He smiled at the knock. “That’s him.”

Chris stepped through the door. He was tall and thin, his hair wavy and short. He wore a tee shirt and jeans, not a uniform like Tigger. “Hey, Jonah Briggs.”

“Chris.” Briggs said in greeting with a smile.

“Tig.” Chris nodded a greeting. “Thought you were in Virginia?”

“Was. Done. Back. Heading west in a few days. I’ll stop home.”

“Pap will be glad. He’s been having some problems lately, and isn’t moving around. Still goes to the store every day though.”

“Is he renting the movie I made?” Tigger asked.

“Yeah. It’s always rented.”

“Sweet.” Tigger looked at Briggs. “And you said no one would wanna see a documentary of us training.”

“What else is there? Not many people make movies and they ones that do get made are bad,” Briggs replied then glanced at Chris. “What’s wrong with Tom?”

“Diabetes is out of control again. Lars wants to put me on working on a new form of insulin, but he knows I suck in the lab. I’m better with patients.”

“He wouldn’t ask if he didn’t think you’d see something.”

Chris shrugged. “I guess. Anyhow, what’s up?”

“When we moved here years ago, I had boxes I never opened. The other day I was wanting to clean things out and look what I found. You left this in Damon.” Briggs reached into the box and pulled out a notebook.

“Oh my God.” Chris took it. “Oh my God. My journal.”

“Thought you may want to look through it. Mick’s last letter is in there too.”

“Wow. Thank you.”

Another knock came at the open door and Mick called, “Hey, ready to head out?”

“Yeah,” Chris replied. “What took you so long coming up?”

“Fucking steps are killing my knees.”

Briggs nodded in agreement. “I hear you.”

“You guys are old,” Tigger said.

“What’s up, Tig?” Mick motioned his head. “Haven’t seen you in a few weeks. Still reigning terror?”

“Absolutely. Someone has to.”

Mick shook his head. “Figures.”

“Hey, Mick?” Chris with a smile, holding up the notebook. “Look what Jonah found.”

“Oh, wow, that’s awesome. I’d love to read it if you wanna share.”

“Sure.”

Briggs added, “Me, too.”

“Me as well,” Tigger said.

Chris grimaced at his brother and looked down at the book. “This is so cool. I was so young…” He flipped through the pages. “Oh, wow. The arm wrestling match.” He looked at Mick, then Briggs. “Wait, I didn’t write down who won.”

Briggs asked. “You don’t remember?”

Chris shook his head. “Not really. I mean, I think I do. But I changed it in my mind so many times. Tig, do you?”

“I was six. Not really.” Tigger said.

“Who won?” Chris asked.

“You really don’t remember?” Briggs peered at Mick, then Chris. “Mick did.” He winked.

Chris looked at. “You won?”

“I thought Briggs did. Not sure.”

Chris grumbled. “It’ll come back to me.” He tucked the notebook under his arm. “Ready.” He walked around the desk to give Briggs a hug, then hugged his brother. “Get your ass home, Tig. Seriously.”

“I’ll be there.” Tigger raised his hand.

Mick exchanged handshakes with Briggs, and he walked out with Chris, shutting the door behind them.

“Alright, I’m out of here,” Tigger said. “Hitting the bar.”

“Tigger,” Briggs called him. “You don’t miss a trick. How do you not remember who won that arm wrestling match?”

“Oh, I remember,” Tigger opened the door. “Just that, two big men, two big egos. I didn’t want to dredge up the pain of that night.” He flashed a smile. “See ya.”

Briggs laughed. Tigger drove him nuts, but for over a decade, Tigger had kept him going. He sat back in the chair, hands folded behind his head and swiveled to the window. He peered out and watched as Chris and Mick got in a car, and Tigger darted out of the building.

Things were finally on track. Some semblance of life had returned. There were problems here and there, but Briggs couldn’t complain. To him, life was good.

Journal Entry

I can’t believe it has been fifteen years and five months since I have laid eyes on this journal. Reading it brought back not only memories, but feelings I had back then. The pain, the fear, everything. But I left it open, unresolved and I thought I’d fill in the blanks. Not really for me, but maybe in the years ahead, should I have children and they want to read it. ‘Cause I’m pretty sure, just like the arm wrestling match, things will be pretty distorted in my memory.

After the battle and Jonah Briggs returned without Mick, I thought he was dead. Even though I was certain there was no way, no how Mick would die in battle. Not him. Jonah pulled us aside, because he didn’t want others to know. He told us that Mick had that super virus and Lars was going to try to beat it.

Lars didn’t know if he could or would, but he’d try. After all, it was Lars Rayburn. After about fifteen days, he declared Mick out of the woods and took him from quarantine right before we had our first Thanksgiving. Mick was pretty scarred up from the sores, all over his neck and arms, but those battle scars were worth him living. I don’t know what I would have done without him. I was very proud. It was a long month. We stayed a couple weeks longer in Damon, then Pap came and got us. He said we had to get home.

Unfortunately, Rose didn’t live to see the first Thanksgiving. She had a ton of complications from her accident. She got to see Mick one more time. That was good.

Despite how much I was attached to Emmie, I couldn’t handle a toddler, not at fourteen. Doc and Mary asked if they could raise her and it broke my heart to tell them yes. But I did. I got to see Emmie often because they moved to Erie, which is pretty close.

Jake moved in with them as well. He’s doing well. All grown and married. Has two kids last we talked.

Pap took care of Baby Doe. We called him John and he turned out pretty good. A teenager now. Ethan is prepping him to be a teacher. Pap is still kicking, man, we have good genes.

Erie took a while to clean, but it was thought to be the best location for headquarters. First summer after, Jonah Briggs moved there and was running things. Been bitching about it since. Both he and Mick bitched a lot. Despite what he always said, Mick ran Lodi, but joined forces with Jonah. They had to work together.

Before the first winter, a huge pilgrimage with close to a thousand people showed up. They were led by some guy named Matt and a former CDC doctor that Henry knew. They waited until it was safe and then they went back to conquer the west. Lexi stayed behind a couple years because her and Bill had a daughter and they didn’t want to leave while she was a baby.

They’re out there now. We keep in touch.

Power was able to stay up but only in pockets of the country. Close vicinity communities. A lot of small ones are in the dark and have learned to live like that. Prefer to live like that.

The internet never came back. I thought it would. One day. Tigger will probably bring it back.

Tigger. Wouldn’t believe it, but man, when he turned thirteen he became a handful. Nothing that Mick did. He just got bad. Running into abandoned towns. Bringing back souvenirs. I think he was twelve the first time he got drunk. Mick kicked his ass couple times, but really how much would Mick kick Tigger’s ass? He was still little. So the summer before his fourteenth birthday, Jonah Briggs offered to take Tigger in and ‘work’ him as he put it.

It backfired and Tigger loved it. He was the youngest soldier in Briggs’ army. Started serving small stuff at fifteen and went up against the “Dins,” as Tigger named them, at sixteen. He’s good at taking them out. He calls them that because they are survivors who try to act like the old school Indians. They never see Tigger coming. He’s the best man for the job. Tigger is fearless and I fear Tigger one day taking over for Jonah Briggs. I think Jonah has the good sense not to allow that. God help us all if he does.

Me, well, I made the grave mistake of praising Lars Rayburn for saving Mick. I told him he was my new hero and I wanted to save people like that. At the time I did, all in his glory for saving the man who was a father to me. But I was like thirteen, come on. Lars knew that had to change. Unfortunately, Lars immediately took me under his wing. I went to the Lars Rayburn School of Hard Knocks. We started with basics, stuff you learn in school, and recess was anatomy and medical stuff. Kurt and Henry started dividing their living time around all the communities. When they were in Lodi, Lars made me learn from them. I can remember Kurt telling him, “Lars come on let the kid go play.” And Lars would say I can play when I’m older.

Really?

I still have yet to go out and play like I did. But I am grateful for Lars because I am reluctantly the next generation of doctors. People call me the next Lars Rayburn. I don’t see it. Growing up, everyone wanted to be like Lars, not because he was this brilliant guy, but because he shook the president’s hand. In our small town, that was a big thing.

Perhaps I’ll be a legend as well for something other than medicine. That would be cool. Actually, I just may be. Six years ago, I achieved a big dream of mine and it wasn’t being a doctor.