Hot Zone (7 page)

At the door to the street, I turned on Tucker. “You can just turn around and go back up.”

He shrugged. “I could use the air.”

“You’re not understanding me. I want to do this by myself. Go.” I’m usually very polite to people I don’t know all that well. It’s only my true friends and family that get the snappish redheaded side of me. True to form, I was still using my nice voice.

Tucker didn’t leave. He looked past me out the door to the street.

“Damn it, listen to me!” I swatted his arm. “Go back.” Some angry little piece of me added, “If you’re doing this to impress Meri, don’t bother. She has a boyfriend.” As soon as I said it, I felt bad.

Tucker nodded slowly. “That may be, but you aren’t going out by yourself as long as I can help it. I don’t particularly care if you sit down now and have a tantrum, in fact, it’d give me an excuse to throw you over my shoulder and carry you back upstairs. But if you’re going, I’m going. I won’t bother you, and if you prefer, I’ll stay back a bit, so you aren’t embarrassed to be seen with me.” By the end of that statement there was a definite edge to his voice.

Now I felt completely guilty. I sighed, not knowing what to say to make this go away. I finally mumbled, “Fine,” in a tired voice and pushed open the door, heading out for the first time since all this crap hit the fan.

The streets were nearly deserted. Many of the storefronts had broken windows, so there must have been looting or violence here. I thought about asking Tucker, but he still seemed annoyed, so I decided to ask later. There was a large pileup of cars at the corner of our street and Vine, which was a relatively busy intersection. The cars hadn’t been towed or moved; it seemed as if the drivers had just abandoned the vehicles. I suppose people saw the cars and just knew to take a different street, not that I saw many cars moving anyway.

I was a block away when I saw my first “official.” This was an Army Jeep at the corner where the little grocery store stood. I hadn’t realized that we had Army here as well as National Guard. I saw several people near the Jeep, at the little table that had been set up. There was a black banner waving near the table, and as I walked closer, I realized what was happening. This was one of the places where you told the Army or National Guard where to come and pick up the dead. I looked at all the people with their blank faces. Dear God, were that many people still dying? I’d thought the deaths were just at first, but even as I stood there looking, I saw more and more people coming down along different streets and heading to the table to report the deaths of their loved ones. I wondered what happened to the bodies—did they bury them all? I felt a shiver run down my spine and thought about movies I’d seen of mass burials in Nazi Germany—bodies bumping over one another.

Swallowing back the urge to vomit, I headed away from the death table and into the grocery store. I walked about, as shocked by the reduced produce and meats as I was by everything else. Weren’t we getting supplies? Would we run out of food? No. I had to believe that soon this whole thing would right itself. Soon things would get back to normal.

I saw Sarah Richardson at the checkout counter, and hugged her like an old friend, even though we’d never been close. She asked me a question I suddenly realized must be what everyone was asking each other as they met along the quiet streets or at the death table:
How many have you lost
? How many. Not who. The stakes were too high now for “who” and it was sufficient to just name a number. I thought of Eddy, and my parents, and Mrs. Frisch downstairs. Finally I said woodenly, “One.” I knew it was expected, so I said, “What about you?”

Sarah nodded and said, “Both my parents and my little brother. My little sister is sick but getting better, I think. And I didn’t even get the sniffles.” She looked a little angry as she said this. Survivor guilt.

I paid her and left, leaving her to the next customer. As I exited the store, Tucker took the sack from me, and I walked quickly until I was about halfway home. As soon as I couldn’t see the death table anymore, I sat on the curb of the empty street and let myself cry. Tucker sat a ways away. After a few minutes of silence, I turned to him. “I am such an idiot. I’m so sorry. I never asked about your brother. Is Dale okay?”

Tucker nodded at my admission, apparently agreeing that I was an idiot. Fair enough. “Dale isn’t answering his cell, and I can’t find him. I suppose he’s probably dead, but I don’t know, so …” He let his voice trail off.

“Your parents?”

“Dad ran off a few years back, but Mom died just before the initial craziness. She wasn’t well for awhile.”

“Oh, Tucker, I’m sorry about being such a brat earlier. I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you, that’s not it at all. It’s just I think you and Meri are treating me like I might go crazy at any moment.” Tucker shook his head. “I think maybe I’m afraid of the same thing.”

“Don’t,” Tucker said. “Look, I’m the one who pushed myself into your life. I know that.” He seemed truly uncomfortable for a moment, looking away. When he looked back at me, he was assured once more. “I used to have a crush on you, you know. In Chemistry.” He grinned a little at the unexpected joke.

I suppose I had known that. But to be honest, we really hadn’t been in the same high school social groups, and we had both known it. Harsh but true. I had been nice to him, but he had treated me more like I was a goddess rather than his lab partner. And if I’m really being honest, I had liked his adoration. I feel like a jerk saying that, but what can I say? Being seventeen can mean being rather self-absorbed. Now here he was talking about it, and I didn’t know what to say. I was too emotionally worn out to prevaricate, so I said, “Yeah, I guess. But Tucker, you really don’t seem like the same person now. You’re still nice and everything, still Tucker, just more, um …”

“Intelligent,” he finished, a little flatly. I shrugged, embarrassed. He said, “I know. I’m not sure what the hell happened. I look back at my life and it’s like I was living in a bubble or something.” He frowned. “I can’t explain it well, but I know I’ve changed.”

I looked up suddenly. “When, Tucker? When did you notice it? Recently?”

He nodded. “Recently, yeah. I noticed it a day or two before I came upon you and Eddy.” He saw the look on my face. “I know, it’s probably not even really me, it’s just whatever chemical is floating around, or whatever virus they dosed us with.” He gave a short laugh. “I bet I’m one of the few people who don’t want to be cured. Everything that used to be so hard for me is easy now. Decisions? No problem. Understanding what other people are talking about? Again, not an issue anymore.”

“Oh, Tucker,” I said in a heartfelt way. I could imagine what he must be going through, watching all these people die, and being secretly glad that that it had affected him like this. Another thought occurred to me. I looked at him, upset. “Do you think it will go away?”

He sighed. “I hope not, but if it does, then it does. It’s one reason why I want to help people now, while I can be of some help. It’s nice to be the helper instead of being the one who needs help.”

“Did I ever say thank you for saving me? For helping out when I was sick? For putting up with me while I cry and whine and be a first-class bitch?”

He chuckled. “My pleasure, fair lady. And now, I think we should get back before the cops find us sitting out here and shoot us.” He was smiling, but I wondered if it would ever get to that point. No. It was quiet enough. Surely the whole thing was winding down now.

We walked back to the apartment. Meri sighed with relief when we arrived, and took the food into the kitchen. She smiled at Tucker, and he followed her into the kitchen, leaving me alone in the living room. I sat down on the couch, turning on the news. Amazingly enough, the networks were going back to their normal schedule, so I went to the all-news stations. CNN was running a special report called, “Caging Contagions.”
Catchy
, I thought to myself as I lay on the couch, putting my feet up and getting comfortable. Ten minutes later, I called into the kitchen, interrupting Meri’s and Tucker’s quiet chatting to call them out to see the program. I was now sitting up and holding one of the pillows in my lap.

Meri asked, “What’s the deal? Not more bad news.”

“Just listen, and tell me what you think.” Meri and Tucker sat down, and we all watched the TV until the next commercial. I turned to them. “Well?”

Meri shrugged, rubbing her neck. “I admit it’s a little disturbing, but they’re just being sensationalists. It makes more people watch the program.” She turned to Tucker, sliding her leg under her. “You know, like when the Weather Channel makes every single snow storm seem like the super-killer-storm that may just bury us all, right? It happens all over, and now they’re doing it too.” She motioned at the TV.

Tucker looked serious. “I don’t like this,” he said.

Meri looked at me. “Come on! We’re a part of the United States! We have rights!”

I said, “They were saying that at its worse, the Black Death in Europe only killed thirty percent of the population. They are speculating that this ‘disease’ may kill fifty percent of the people in the affected area.”

Meri scoffed, “Speculation. You said it yourself.”

Tucker said, “The CDC is saying that voluntary quarantine might not be effective in such a large area.”

Meri turned to him. “Now you’re sounding like them!”

“Meri, I didn’t say it originally, but I am hearing more and more about quarantining the area.”

“And you think that’s a good idea?” Her eyes were wide.

“No,” he said slowly. “Well, not yet. We don’t really know what we’re dealing with. Medical authorities, including the CDC, haven’t been able to tell why people are getting sick or why some aren’t affected.”

Meri looked at her lap.

The program came back on. We watched. By the time it ended, there was a heavy silence. Meri was the first to break it. “Dear God. They wouldn’t. I refuse to believe it. Most of those quarantine rules were back when people didn’t know better. They wouldn’t do it now.”

“I hope you’re right,” Tucker said, “but I wonder if you’d say the same thing if you lived in Chicago, where you’d be close enough for possibly ‘infected’ people to drive to in a few hours. Would you want a chance of it spreading?”

Meri said a bit wildly, “But the officials of the C, um, whatever it’s called—”

“CDC,” I supplied. “Center for Disease Control.”

“Whatever!” she snapped. “They said there is no evidence it’s contagious. So all this talk is just crazy!”

Tucker said, “People get worked up, and I agree with you, programs like this can start a panic. But even if they did quarantine the area, it would only be until they found out exactly what it is that’s hurting us. And they might have figured it out already and we just haven’t heard yet.” His voice was soothing.

Meri jumped up. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” I stared at her as she actually stamped her foot in time to the words. She had begun to cry. “Why are we even talking about it?”

Tucker stood as well, giving me a warning look. “You’re right,” he said with finality. “It’s a ridiculous idea.”

My hand reached over and surreptitiously pressed the power button on the remote. The TV turned off. Meri again rubbed her neck. “Maybe I’ve been overdoing it,” she said. “I am sort of tired.”

“Go ahead and take a nap if you want.” I offered, gesturing to the couch.

Meri started to lie down, suddenly sitting bolt upright. “Oh, God. Am I getting it?”

Tucker looked at me and I said, “You know, Meri, you could just be getting sick—a good old American cold or something.”

She relaxed a little. “Maybe. I don’t want to kill you or myself. That’s a good sign, right?”

I couldn’t help laughing. She relaxed still more. I put a hand to her forehead. “You do seem warm. Want some chicken soup?”

She made a face. Chicken soup was our little joke. My mom had brought over some once when Meri had had the ‘flu, and she had thrown it all up. “No soup,” she said. “I’ll just lie down for awhile, and when I wake up, I’ll probably be fine.” She lay down and closed her eyes and was soon asleep.

I was in the kitchen cutting up some raw veggies when Tucker came in. “You know, I think they’re going to do it,” he said.

“What?” My mind had been thinking about my parent’s house for some odd reason. I had found myself thinking about it all day, off and on.

“Close the area down. I have watched the news a lot, and that’s what everything points to. The blogs are full of demands to protect the rest of the US from those of us who are ‘infected.’”

“But it’s over two plus states. How would they do it?”

He said grimly, “I saw that today the Senate passed a bill giving the President the authority to override state quarantine laws and enact a quarantine by force if necessary. It will go to the House now, but it seems sure it’ll pass.”

“Just because they can doesn’t mean they will.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He sighed. “I guess I’ve just got a bad feeling about it.”

Silence fell only broken by my chopping. “Um, Tucker?” I said after a bit.

“Yeah?” He was looking out at Meri, soundly asleep on the sofa.

“Tell me a story.”

He looked at me, confused, and I laughed at myself. “I just need to get my mind off things. Just make something up. The sillier the better.” The truth was that I was feeling a story form in my mind, and didn’t know how to say that without sounding nuts.

“Okay,” he drew out the word. “A story.” He thought a minute. “It doesn’t have to be about princesses, does it?”

“Fine, Mr. Can’t-tell-a-story. Want me to go first?”

He gave me a mock scowl. “Go ahead.”

“Once upon a time there were three heart-breakingly beautiful girls who lived in a tower above ye old bar and grille.”

He laughed, sitting down and getting conspicuously comfortable.

“And one day an evil witch cast a spell, and many of the town-folk became ill, and some died.”

“Aww,” he said, “I don’t like sad stories.”

I put up a finger sternly. “Settle down, you. Now, these beautiful princesses—”