The Flu 2: Healing (4 page)

“No, no, I wasn’t thinking that.” Mick indicated with his head then pointed. “There’s a man up there.”

The man on the street was packing his car. He looked over at the truck as Ethan slowed down.

Ethan wound down his window. “Morning, sir.”

“We don’t have anything. The town is wiped out,” the man said. “If that’s what you’re looking for.”

Ethan shook his head. “No. I’ve been hitting a lot of small towns. Looking for kids that may be left alone after their parents died.”

“Noble cause,” the man replied. “Why?”

“Ever since two were left orphaned at our camp,” Ethan said, “I wondered how many others were out there.”

“Well …” the man shrugged, “most of this town died from the flu. We thought, you know, we had it beat. We had a small outbreak and then about ten days ago, it just wiped us out. Returned with a vengeance. We lost our last person about four days ago.”

Mick understood that, and his head lowered.

“I think I’m the last of the people here. Maybe the Morgans, but I’m not sure. They’re over on Carson Street, four blocks down and to your left. They may know more, but I’m really not sure about any kids. I’m alone.”

Mick leaned forward. “Sir, I’m from a town called Lodi. Lodi, Ohio.”

“Lodi,” he said airily. “I heard about that town on the news. It was flu free.”

“Not entirely,” Mick said. “We suffered a lot of deaths. But the town is still functioning. Maybe you should head there.”

“Maybe I will. Good luck with your search.”

Ethan nodded a thank you and drove on looking for Carson Street. The population sign read 1600, so they knew the town wasn’t all that big, but it was definitely deserted. The businesses hadn’t been boarded up, yet the doors were open.

Out in front of the small volunteer fire station a tent was erected. Possibly a help station at one time. But that man by the truck was the only person they saw.

Carson Street proved futile, as there was no one there. It was barren and Mick and Ethan even called out. They’d walk, call out, listen and walk.

From the map, Mick saw there were about six patches of residential areas. He understood Ethan’s plight and reasoning, but didn’t see how he was going to find anyone in a town such as Rosemont. Really, it was a small town. Would there be children left alone?

The third patch of residential homes was a small mobile home area set just down a small hill from a day care center. They pulled the truck down and began their search.

Mick remained cool, calm, and indifferent until he saw the doll on the street. Just lying there, its legs broken, probably from being run over. It was dirty, the hair frizzy, and Mick bent down to lift it.

Was the child who loved that doll still alive? He imagined in his mind the family leaving to get help and the doll dropped. So much screamed at Mick about all that happened to the world, all that was lost, when he saw that doll. Just as his fingers gripped it, he heard it.

So did Ethan, because he turned his head to Mick. “You hear that?”

It was high pitched sound, achy, and almost catlike.

“Animal?” Mick asked.

Ethan shook his head and called, “Hello!”

Again, the noise came to them, faint but close.

Mick spun to the tan mobile home. “There.”

“You sure?”

“I think.”

A few more steps and another cry out, and Mick was certain he and Ethan were entering the right home. The second they stepped into the mobile home, the familiar smell of death pelted Mick. It was raw, overpowering and the trailer was warm, which seemed to breed the odor. It didn’t take long, only a few steps, to find not only the source of the smell, but the cause of the noise.

The body of a woman lay on the sofa. She was covered in a blanket, her eyes wide open, face grey. In the center of the living room was a portable playpen. Inside, surrounded by empty bottles was a child. It was apparent by the amount of bottles the mother had done all that she could. That perhaps as she lay dying she prayed that someone would find her child before it was too late.

The boy was no older than two, and was lying on his side. His skin was dry, cracked and pale. His tiny mouth was open and his eyes sunken in. He blinked once, as if trying to focus on Mick, then whimpered out a labored, faint cry.

“Oh my God.” Mick rushed to the playpen. He knew the second he placed his hands on the child, that it wasn’t the flu. The toddler was starving and severely dehydrated. “Oh my God,” he said again as he lifted the child.

His heart broke. The child was listless, only able to squeal, and it was apparent that the simple noise took everything from him. He locked eyes with Mick and Mick just wanted to cry. Just crumble and cry.

“We gotta get fluids into that child,” Ethan said, rushing to the playpen and lifting a bottle. He raced to the kitchen and looked. “Nothing here.”

Mick just stared at the child, the slowly brought him to his chest. His little hands tried so hard to grab on to Mick, but he didn’t have the energy.

“I got water in the truck,” Ethan said, rushing from the kitchen to the door. “Let’s go.”

Mick just stood there.

“Mick, come on. We got to help this child.”

After only a nod, Mick, cradling the toddler, quickly followed Ethan.

Help the child?
Mick thought,
Was that even possible?

Journal Entry

I thought I’d write a little while me and Tig were just hanging back in the camper. We’re waiting on Mick, he won’t be long. Tig keeps looking out the window. We can hear kids out there playing.

They’re laughing. I don’t understand that. How can they laugh? A part of me feels as if I am not allowed to laugh. That if I smile, it would be wrong.

Not that I want to smile. I don’t have it in me and I don’t think anything, right now, can make me smile. Not a real one or big.

I had the weirdest thought. I wonder if my dad was psychic. Maybe he knew deep inside that something was gonna happen, something big and sad, and that was why he took his own life.

I didn’t understand it when he did it. I mean, why? But now, I’m a little jealous. Why?

Because he didn’t have to see it happen.

He didn’t have to watch Dustin die. What my brother went through was bad. Really bad. He was so sick and he did not deserve to feel that much pain.

Yet, he wasn’t scared. How can you know you’re gonna die and not be scared? I am proud of my big brother. I wonder if my dad was there waiting on Dustin, saying, “Come on, guy, we have to greet a lot of people.’ I wonder if they were sad or happy when my mom got there.

Like I said, a part of me is jealous. I know that sounds stupid. But my dad gets to be with Dustin, my gram, my mom. I get Mick and Tig. Don’t get me wrong, I love Mick and Tigger. I just wish our family wasn’t broken up.

I’d give anything to have it be normal.

I’d give anything to have my mom and brother back.

What’s gonna happen now to this world? I’m pretty sure I’ll never go to school again. Never have my friends. Probably never go to college. What about the dreams that I had, that my brother had?

They’re just gone.

I’m smart enough to know that water isn’t always good enough to drink when you find it, and the cans of food on the shelf at the store ain’t gonna last forever.

Maybe it’s something I should leave for the grownups to worry about. But something tells me I’m gonna have to be a grown up long before I’m ready.

It ain’t fair that this happened.

But what can you do?

4. Life

“I seen this before but not this bad,” Ethan told Mick as they placed the baby on a dampened cloth. Internally, that wet towel would do nothing, but Baby Boy Doe was like prune. Literally like a prune.

Putting liquids in his bottle were futile, as Doe wouldn’t drink or swallow; he could barely react at all.

“Come on, little man,” Mick pleaded. “You got to drink, something, please drink something.”

“He needs more than water. Maybe they got some of the electrolyte stuff in town in one of the stores. It won’t hurt to look.”

Mick was at a loss. As an officer of the law he had some knowledge of emergency medicine, but it was basic. First aid, CPR, stuff like that.

Baby Boy Doe was naked, his legs barely squirmed, and Mick held him as they got in the truck.

“Ethan, you said you seen this before?”

Ethan soaked a paper towel with water. “About a week ago when we found Billy, yes. He’s six, like your boy. He was dehydrated to the point he couldn’t swallow. He was able to have some reaction. Most of the young ones are starving, thirsty.” He handed the wet towel to Mick. “Put this in his mouth. Maybe he’ll suck on it and get just enough into his system so that he’ll take a bottle.”

Ethan shut the door and walked to his side of the truck.

The water from the towel rolled down Mick’s hand and he brought it to the boy’s mouth. He opened his mouth some and placed the cloth inside. The baby barely reacted.

“Massage his throat,” Ethan instructed. “Help him to swallow, keep him up, you don’t want him to choke.”

“So you have done this before?”

“Yeah, but he wasn’t this bad. No one was. I don’t know.” Ethan started the truck. “I saw that little gas station up there, maybe they have something.”

Mick kept constant eye contact with the baby. He didn’t know why the child pulled at his heart so. He kept encouraging the baby to take the cloth, swallow, anything.

Baby Boy Doe’s breathing was rapid, and his protruding stomach snapped back and forth with each breath.

“What did you do before this world went to shit?” Mick asked.

“I was school teacher.”

It made immediate sense to Mick, why Ethan thought of children first, how he cared so much about those left behind. He could see Patrick doing the same had he survived the flu.

“Mick, you seem like a level headed guy,” Ethan said. “But right now, you’re frazzled. Relax, trust me he can sense it.”

“How did this happen, Ethan?” Mick asked with such heartbreak. “How?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, apparently his mom tried, you know? But he was forgotten. He was just forgotten. How?”

“Mick, think about it. I don’t mean to dredge up anything, but when you were suffering your loss, when you and your family were going through the hell of the flu, did you stop to think? Did you at all, stop and wonder, let’s say, about the Smiths down the street, how they had two boys and what would become of them? Did you wonder at all about the kids?”

“I did. Yes, I ran my town,” Mick said. “And our whole town became like a family when the flu hit. We went door to door.”

Ethan exhaled. “That was Lodi. It isn’t the way it was. Unfortunately, unlike Lodi, no one really cared what happened outside their own home. You folks were just different.”

Ethan’s words hit hard to Mick and rang a painful reality. Yes, the people of Lodi cared for each other, came together and rallied to each other’s aid. But in essence, Mick did the same as everyone else in the country. He didn’t care about what was happening outside his house. Only difference was, All of Lodi was his house.

After thinking about it, Mick simply said. “No, no we weren’t. We were the same, Ethan, just on a different scale.”

Mick held the baby with the cloth to his mouth. How ironic that such a small, helpless child could bring such a big revelation. Mick had only focused on what happened to his home, his family, and for the first time, the hard reality of what had happened to the world pummeled him.

* * *

Rose Owens was still angry with her son. It wasn’t like when he was a teenager and didn’t check in. Mick was a grown man. In fact, he was the Chief of Police in the small town of Lodi, Ohio. But he had left.

He stated he had good reasons, but to Rose there wasn’t any good reason to up and leave the town that you had led through such a horrendous ordeal.

She credited her son and a couple of others with saving the lives of half the population of Lodi. Half. While the loss seemed great when spoken, it paled in comparison to the rest of the world.

Rose thought about the rest of the world; she was certain her son did not.

To him, Mick had lost his world - the love of his life and the boy who was no less than a son to him. He didn’t care hide nor hair about anything except what he lost and what he still had remaining.

Tigger and Chris.

Rose was sure she didn’t play into the ‘still had’ factor, or else he wouldn’t have left. She understood his reasoning, but she didn’t like it. There were too many painful memories in Lodi and Mick wanted to take the boys away. She wasn’t sure where, though. Tom’s family cabin in West Virginia? Would they even get that far? Rose doubted it.