Fever (Flu) (15 page)

Colin entered her room, sat on the edge of the bed. “Colin, I feel awful,” she said.

“I know, babe,” he said, pulling her close, rocking her gently in his embrace.

Her body was red hot, her sweat like acid on his skin. Colin felt his eyes water as he rocked her, his face straining hard not to cry. He needed to be strong.

The sirens were louder now, as if they were right at the house.

The crowd around the house seemed to thicken as the flashing blue lights made their final approach. A police Land Rover pulled up and parked.

Two officers climbed out, dressed in yellow plastic suits, just as Colin had described. They attached bulky breathing apparatus to their backs.

Ripples of panic ran through the crowd. Some people fled immediately. Others stood their ground, angrily hurling abuse.

But the cops ignored everyone, moved towards the house.

“Fuck this,” whispered Vicky.

She stepped in front of the two cops as they continued their approach. Smiled flirtatiously.

The bigger cop grabbed her roughly, pushed her against the doorframe.

“Hey! Get your hands off me!” she protested.

“Do you live here?” he said, his voice gruff and threatening.

The other cop placed a hand on his colleague’s shoulder, pulling him back.

“I’m sorry, miss,” he said to Vicky, “but we need to know your relation to the patient.” His voice was softer, younger than the other cop, but the suit and mask still held a certain menace.

“I’m her employer,” Vicky said.

“Well, do you know where the patient is now?”

“You’re too late. An ambulance called just before you guys came.” She wondered why the hell she was doing this. “You just missed it.”

“Bullshit!” barked the bigger cop.

“Leave it, Norm,” the younger voice reprimanded and then to her said in a stern but calm voice, “Miss, you know that lying to the police is a crime?”

“Leave me alone!” Vicky looked to the crowd, feigning panic. “Help!” she cried. “They’re trying to take me!”

The crowd, already riled, became even more worked up. More people bolted. Those remaining surged forward aggressively.

Another Land Rover pulled up, more cops descending like hawks, batons swinging. They rounded up the troublemakers, beat them viciously.

Vicky panicked. She couldn’t breathe.

There was chaos now. People were running, screaming, bleeding around her. Vicky fought her way through the crowd and ran, stopping only when she was a safe distance from the house. She was hot, sweating.

A few people stood at the doorways of their homes, staring at her, suspiciously, as if she herself might be sick or infected.

“What are you all looking at?!” Vicky yelled.

They sloped back inside, closing their doors.

Vicky thought for a moment then reached into the back pocket of her jeans, retrieving her mobile phone. She flicked through the contacts list, chose COLIN then pressed the phone against her ear. She didn’t expect it to work. The network had been patchy for days.

“Come on, come on,” she whispered.

It was ringing.

“COME ON!” Vicky cried.

“Vicky”, Colin answered. “Where are you?”

“Outside, down the street a little.” She peered back towards the house. “Place has gone mad, Colin. There’s cops everywhere. Get out of there now.”

She could hear the sound of commotion from his end, a door banging closed and the descent of steps.

“Colin? Talk to me, damn it!”

She thought the connection had died but then Colin spoke. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m on the fire escape. Grab Vince and meet us round back. And hurry!”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Vicky muttered, snapping her phone shut.

She made her way back along the street towards the house again. She walked slowly, trying to keep a low profile.

The crowd was still lively. A line of cops held them back, some now armed with guns. Yet another van showed up, more suited cops climbing out to join the others.

Vicky slipped past them, dipping her head.

She found Vince.

Vicky opened the Volkswagen Beetle’s door, jumping into the driver’s seat.

The keys were in the glove compartment as always. Vicky shook her head, marvelling at how easy it would be to steal from someone like Colin.

She started Vince, once again surprised by the car’s enthusiastic sounds.

Vicky pulled away. She drove down the road a little, took a narrow side road. She hung a left, finding the rear entry to Sinead’s house.

Colin was shuffling down the back alleyway, Sinead in his arms.

He opened the back door of the car, sliding Sinead in, before jumping in beside her.

“Go!” he yelled.

A booming noise, not unlike a firework going off, rocked the air.

Vicky looked in the side mirror, catching sight of the two cops from earlier, moving towards them, the big one brandishing a firearm.

Are they shooting at us?

Vicky felt her heart rise up into her mouth. She wasn’t breathing. It was like someone had hit the pause button, time slowing down like a scene from some action movie.

Colin was lying on top of Sinead, as if to shield her. His eyes bulged out of their sockets. He was screaming now, “FOR GOD’S SAKE, MOVE!”

Another booming sound. The glass in the back windscreen shattered.

Vicky pressed her foot on the pedal, skidding back up the entryway and swinging out onto the road. She fought with the steering wheel. Sank her foot on the accelerator again.

She pulled out of University Street, onto the Ormeau Road.

Her hands seemed glued to the steering wheel, her foot to the accelerator. Her eyes were wide and staring dead in front. The eerily light traffic seemed to just part before her like the waves of the Red Sea.

When she thought she’d put enough miles between herself and the chaos from Sinead’s house, Vicky slowed down.

She looked into the back seat, finding Colin still cradling Sinead. He was covered in glass from the blown-out windscreen. Shards filled his hair like tiny pieces of diamante.

Vicky pulled over, stopping the car.

“This is t-too much,” she said to Colin, her voice shaking. “You drive.”

Although Shaun couldn’t
hear
any of the sirens throughout the city, or the random shouts and wails, he could
smell
them. Tension filled the air like poisonous gas. A cold sweat broke across Shaun’s back as he packed his family’s meagre valuables and belongings into the back of their car.

The city seemed empty.

Shaun looked around the housing estate he had lived in for the last ten years, finding few signs of life. Empty driveways. Wire grills placed across doors and windows. His neighbours had slipped away like thieves in the night, no advance warning given, no gathering together, the way a community should. The people he’d waved across the road to for ten years were gone, and Shaun realised that he couldn’t even remember their names, never mind guess where they’d taken off to. All he knew for sure was that while the government announcements on TV said one thing—to stay at home, to await further instruction—most people were doing the complete opposite.

A hand pressed, gently, on his shoulder.

Shaun turned, finding Lize. She was smiling, even though there was nothing to smile about.

“It’ll be alright,” she said. “Daddy will know what to do. He still has contacts in the Armed Forces.”

Yeah, that’d be right
, Shaun mused.
Good ol’ Daddy to the rescue.

He’d be more understanding if this were the first time, but the reality was that good ol’ Martin was who Lize would go to for
everything
. He’d watched her talk on the phone to Daddy about anything from which school to enrol Jamie at, to what to do when the car kept stalling or where the best place was to buy new tyres. Martin—Daddy dearest—seemed to be the font of all knowledge in their family, and, frankly, it sickened Shaun.

It would be annoying even if Martin were one of the good guys, a doting father simply looking after his little girl. After all, shouldn’t she be going to her husband for all these things? But Martin was far from good. A grumpy bastard on a better day, his normal form was despicable.

Martin was in the Armed Forces but didn’t like to talk about it. Posted abroad, with her father doing God knows what, God knows where, Poor Lize had been dragged through every base across Europe, never settling.

No wonder she’d cheated on him...

“Lize, you know how I feel about him,” Shaun said. “I’m doing this for you and Jamie. But I need to be sure that when it comes down to it that you’ll take my side, that—”

“
Sides
?” she broke in, “What
sides
are there?”

“Lize, you know what he’s like, how he tries to rile me!” He could see her struggling to read his lips, all too aware of how slurred his speech would become when he got excited.

“That’s nonsense, you’re imagining...”

Her voice was lost to him as she turned away, but Shaun grabbed her hands, held them. His eyes met hers, and he realised just how frightened she was, how frightened
he
was.

He wondered if Martin was frightened, if Martin was a man who
ever
got frightened, or if he, in some sick way, thrived on situations like this, situations where he could take hold of the reins and fix everything for his little girl, further alienating Shaun in the process.

“I’m serious, Lize. I need you to promise me you’ll be on my side. Please.”

But she couldn’t promise anything. He knew that from experience.

She pulled away from him.

Shaun turned to find Jamie coming down the path, carrying his Spiderman lunchbox. Shaun watched as Lize lifted Jamie in her arms and planted a kiss on his cheek.

As Jamie climbed into the car, Shaun wondered what the boy thought of him. Did he see him as a boy should see his father: a provider and protector? Or did he see him the same way Martin saw him: some stupid dummy.

A liability.

Weak.

Colin closed his eyes and swore silently to himself. “Oh, this is brilliant,” Vicky said, as they sat in a heavy line of traffic. “Brilliant!”

One hand clutched her purse, the other playing with a battery-operated hand fan, blowing air into her face.

“The motorway will be quicker,” she mimicked in a camp accent, turning her head from side-to-side. “Back roads are soooo slow.” Then she turned, all trace of humour gone from her face, and peered at him over her glasses. “Brilliant,” she said again.

Colin ignored her. Blew out a little air. Tried to hide his frustration.

He looked at the car in front. In the back were some kids and a large dog, awkwardly moving along the back seat. The kids were playing with the dog. The dog seemed tired, warm, its long tongue hanging out one side of its mouth as it humoured the kids. A bumper sticker ran along the bottom left of the back windscreen. ‘Don’t follow me,’ it said. ‘I’m lost too.’

Colin looked at the nearest road sign for perhaps the fiftieth time. He wasn’t any closer to it.

One of the destinations on the sign was Portadown. That’s where they were heading.

He turned in his seat, looked to Sinead. She seemed so helpless in her pink jimjams. Colin had swept the glass shards from her skin and hair as best he could. He’d placed some cardboard against the blown-out windscreen to keep the draft out. He’d secured her with the back seatbelts. But the poor girl still looked awful. She sounded worse, her constant spluttering and wheezing coarse and jagged like thorns.

“You okay, pet?” Colin said, knowing full well she wasn’t.

“Does she
look
okay?” Vicky asked, seizing the point indulgently.

She wound down the window, hanging her head out to look up the queue of traffic. She swore, then muttered, “Come on.”

“What’s the hold-up?” Colin asked her, conceding. Huffing with Vicky was pointless. He should have known that by now.

“Ten thousand cars fleeing a disease-ridden city,” she said. “On the fucking motorway.” She looked back at him in that teacher way again. “That’s the hold-up,” she said.

“You’re impossible.”

Colin undid his seatbelt, reached for Vince’s door handle.

Vicky shouted, “Wait, where are you–?!”

Colin pushed the door open and stepped out of the car.

A warm, heavy breeze attacked him; the air was dense, the heat gathering every speck of dust, every belch of exhaust fumes, every fucking germ and mixing it all together.

Colin fumbled in his pocket for a handkerchief to press against his face.

He looked along the crowd of cars, most of them packed to the brim with bags, clothes, furniture, bikes, dogs, cats, children and just about every combination of the aforementioned you could think of.

He could hear the dull rumble of coughing along the line, the infection spreading like wild fire.

He spotted what the hold-up was: at the front of the line stood what he assumed to be a patrol of soldiers, all brandishing rifles.

“Jesus,” he whispered to himself.

He climbed back into the car.

Vicky was at him again like a Rottweiler, nagging before he’d even closed the door.

“Listen,” he said, raising his finger to her, “I need you to stop talking and help me.”

She looked at him suspiciously.

“There’s a line of soldiers up there,” Colin said. “I think they might be after us.”

“Great,” Vicky said, dryly. “And you know
why
they’re after us?” Her lips were twisted. “I’ll tell you why: because you wanted to play the fucking hero and risk BOTH our lives for an infected girl—a girl you may or may not be sleeping with.”

“What?!” Colin spat. Her words cut him deep. Tears suddenly filled his eyes, but he didn’t want Vicky to notice. He wouldn’t give her the pleasure. “She’s your friend too,” he said. “Have you forgotten that?”

“NO!” She slapped her hand against the dashboard. She put her face into her hands, and he thought
she
was going to cry for a moment. Instead, she took a breath. “No, I haven’t forgotten, it’s just—” She sighed deeply before continuing in a quieter voice, “We need to hide her. God knows, they probably know the registration of the car already. And even if they don’t,” she continued, “well, Vince isn’t too hard to pick out of a crowd, is he?”