Cruel World

My kids got it and my wife and I had it within twelve hours. They’re dead. They’re all dead! It’s in the air!

More feet invaded the scene and a rumbling sound like thunder came from the speakers, drowning out the man’s cries. The screen went blank, and the noise stopped only seconds before an anchor desk appeared, manned by a wide-eyed woman in a blue dress and an elderly, regal man in a gray suit whose mouth hung open several inches. The man sputtered for a moment before nodding to someone outside of the view pane.

We’re…we’re going to take a short commercial break and be back with you—His speech cut off as the camera went dark and then broke into a vibrant jingle while a smiling man climbed behind the wheel of a brand new car.

Mallory fumbled with the remote and turned the TV off, leaving only the sound of their breathing in the room.

“We have to bring him in,” Quinn said again, reaching toward Foster.

The older man stepped away from him before he could touch his arm, his eyes watery and strange as he looked at him and then away. Quinn blinked and then turned to Graham and Mallory who hadn’t retreated but stared at him as if they were seeing him for the first time.

“Did you wash your hands?” Graham asked. His accent was more pronounced, the words rounding off at their ends.

“What?”

“After you left his room, did you wash your hands?”

Quinn shifted his gaze from the chef to Mallory who still clutched at the skin of her throat, pinching, pulling, kneading it like dough.

“No.”

“Is he any better?” Foster asked. The groundskeeper had taken another step backward and stood near the doorway, one foot actually in the hall.

“Not that I can see. Look, we need to get him to a hospital now. If this flu is as serious as they’re saying, he needs a doctor.”

He panned their faces, the only ones he’d ever known. They were stoic and unfamiliar to him now, changed in some elemental way as if their bones had shifted beneath their skin, only enough for him to notice.

“What are you doing?” He asked, and his voice sounded far away. A hazy mist was gathering in the corners of the room, creeping into his vision and he shook his head.

“We need to take precautions, cari?o,” Mallory said, standing up from the couch.

“Like what? Isolate dad? Not get him help? We need to bring him in, now. No one’s died yet. They didn’t say anything about people dying from this.”

“The guy that grabbed the microphone said his family died,” Foster said. He didn’t look at Quinn but past him at a point on the wall.

“He was out of his mind, and obviously not everyone is dying from this otherwise they’d be reporting it. Right?”

They stood around him, a circle made of strangers who said nothing.

“If you won’t help me, I’ll take him myself,” he said finally, spinning toward the doorway.

Teresa stood there, blocking his way.

Her face glowed in the dim light thrown by the single lamp in the corner, drops of perspiration like dew on her forehead.

“I called Portland General. There was no answer,” she said, and tipped forward.

Quinn barely caught her before she hit the floor.





Chapter 5



There and Gone



He carried her to her room by himself.

Graham made a move to help him, almost an automatic motion, but Quinn threw him a look and picked the old woman up without effort, cradling her like a child. She weighed no more than a bundle of blankets.

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