The Flu 1/2 by Jacqueline Druga Page B

flu, and peering at the numbers made him feel sick.
    Taking into account the incubation period, the communicability rate of infection, along with the rate of death of those infected, when it was all said and done, Barrow, Alaska, Population 4500, would be...Barrow Alaska, population 105.
     
    * * *
     
    Lodi, Ohio
     
    Mick worked at Tigger’s hair as if it were a highly complicated art project. Fixing it, messing it up, starting all over. Kneeling down, almost sitting before the small child in the kitchen, Mick took the comb to his hair again.
    “There,” Mick said. “Got it now. Looks good.”
    Over the running water, while doing dishes, Dylan spoke, “Go to work, Mick.”
    “I was fixing his hair.”
    “Go back to work.”
    Mick stood. “You look good, Tigger. Go on, wait in the living room. Mr. McCaffrey will be here soon.”
    “Okay,” Tigger smiled, “Mom? Thanks for letting me go.”
    Dylan looked over her shoulder and smiled gently as Tigger darted out. She finished washing and rinsing a glass, and reaching to set it in the drainer, she noticed Mick standing right there. “What?” she asked absently.
    “How are you holding up?” Mick laid his hand on her cheek.
    Dylan turned her head to face her sink of dishes. “As well as to be expected. You should get back to work.”
    “I know...Tigger is holding up well.”
    “Tigger’s young.”
    “How’s Chris.”
    “Chris?” Dylan spoke with a sigh. “He’s out riding his bicycle like nothing even happened.”
    Mick nodded in understanding. “Dustin?”
    “Quiet.”
    “I’ll talk to him.”
    “Mick.” Dylan shut off the water. “Go to work.”
    “You keep saying that.”
    “You keep stopping by.”
    “I need to check on you guys,” Mick said. “I’m worried.”
    “Don’t be.”
    “Are you...are you mad at me about something?” Mick asked.
    “Yes.” Dylan faced him. “You keep on stopping by.”
    “So.”
    “So?” Her voice rose just a little. “Don’t you think, today, this house is the last place you should be?”
    Confused, Mick looked at her. “What the hell are you talking about?”
    Dylan sighed as she rubbed her forehead. “Don’t you think the boys, right now, don’t need a visual reminder of one of the reasons they don’t have their father?”
    Mick’s eyes widened as he stood up straight. He took a step back and stopped. “I am not the reason he pulled that trigger, and I am not the reason for Sam’s suicide.”
    Dylan gasped, “Are you implying I’m the one?”
    “No,” Mick snapped. “Where in God’s name did you get that? No one is to blame.”
    “Someone has to be.”
    Mick moved to Dylan and leaned toward her with a whisper. “Sam is. Suicide....”
    “Stop it.” Dylan turned her head from him.
    “Face the word, Dylan, that’s what it was.”
    Dylan’s eyes closed.
    Reaching out, Mick turned her to face him. “This is hard. This is gonna be very hard on you and the boys. But if you don’t face what really happened, it’s gonna be even harder.”
    Dylan turned from his embrace. “Please leave.”
    Mick nodded. He placed his hand on the back of her neck and pressed his lips to her forehead. “You know where to find me.” After one more soft, quick kiss, Mick walked away. He wasn’t going to allow Dylan to push him away, but he would allow Dylan to have the time and space she obviously needed.
     
    * * *
     
    Los Angeles, CA
     
    Doctor Alberton’s hand firmly patted Trevor’s leg. “What you have, son, is a good old fashioned case of pneumonia.”
    In the hospital bed, propped up a little, Trevor let out a slight cough; it rattled thickly in his chest. He was pale, his neck enlarged with swollen glands. Dark circles were under his eyes. “Pneumonia?”
    “Yep.” Dr. Alberton nodded. “Both lungs, lower lobes. You’re filled up pretty good.”
    “Isn’t it fast?” Trevor asked weakly.
    “No. Most people don’t realize, if you get an infection, and you don’t take it easy...”