“I am not leaving them here!” I heard Susie shouting through the doorway.
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Chuck replied in a quieter voice.
Hanging back, I hesitated but then knocked. Footsteps padded toward me and the door opened, spilling bright light into the hallway.
“Ah, hey,” said Chuck awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “I guess you heard all that?”
“Not really.”
He smiled. “Uh-huh. You okay? You want a cup of tea? Chamomile or something?”
I shook my head and walked in. “No thanks.”
Their place, a two-bedroom apartment only slightly larger than ours, was filled with boxes and bags. Susie was sitting on the couch, an oasis in the middle of the confusion piled around her, looking embarrassed. They weren’t wearing their masks, so I took mine off.
“You get a new mask?” asked Chuck.
“They gave us N95s or something. I don’t know what that means.”
Chuck snorted. “N95, hah! The one I gave you was way better than 95 percent. You shouldn’t have let them take it. I’ll get you some more.”
“It’s like he’s preparing for World War Three,” Susie laughed. “You sure you don’t want a cup of something hot?”
“Not hot, but maybe something strong.”
“Ah, yes,” said Chuck, heading to the kitchen. He produced a bottle of Scotch and two tumblers from a cupboard. “Ice, no ice?”
“Neat is fine.”
He poured a generous dose into both glasses.
“So how’s Luke?” asked Susie. “What did the doctors say?”
“We didn’t manage to see one. A nurse examined him and didn’t say much except it didn’t look like bird flu. He’s got a fever of a hundred and three. Lauren’s taken him to bed and lain down with him. They’re sleeping for now.”
“That’s good news, right? Pam came back when you were out, said you can wake her up if you want. She has a degree in tropical medicine, I think.”
I wasn’t sure how tropical medicine might help in this situation, but I knew Chuck was trying to be comforting. It was reassuring that Pam was nearby. “It can wait till the morning.”
“So what would you think of a little vacation in Virginia?” asked Chuck as he handed my drink over.
“Virginia?”
“Yeah, you know, our old family place in the hills near the Shenandoah? It’s in the national park, only a few cabins on the whole mountain.”
“Ahhh,” I replied, the light dawning. “Time to bug out?”
He motioned toward the TV, still on but with the sound muted. The headline scrolling across CNN was about a bird flu outbreak being reported in California.
“Nobody knows what the hell is going on. Half the country thinks it’s terrorists, the other half an attack by the Chinese, and another half thinks it’s nothing at all.”
“That’s a lot of halves.”
“Glad you have a sense of humor.”
Taking a sip from his drink, he grabbed the remote from the kitchen counter and turned up the volume on CNN. “Unconfirmed reports of bird flu have been springing up all over the country, with the latest in San Francisco and Los Angeles, where health officials have quarantined two major hospitals …”
I sighed and took a big gulp of my drink. “I most absolutely do not find this funny.”
“Emergency services all over the country are screwed, cell phone networks jammed,” said Chuck. “It’s a total mess out there.”
“Don’t need to tell me. You should see the hospitals. Has the CDC confirmed anything?”
“They confirmed the emergency notifications, but nobody’s been able to get in to find out what’s going on.”
“It’s taking that long? It’s been ten hours already.”
Chuck shook his head. “With the Internet down and this Scramble virus messing with logistics, nobody knows where anyone is or what they should be doing.”
Rubbing my eyes, I took another sip and looked out the window. It was snowing in earnest now, and a steady stream of flakes flashed out of the darkness, spinning and swirling with the wind.
Chuck followed my eyes. “These storms coming, it’s going to be worse than Christmas a few years back, like a frozen Sandy.”
I hadn’t been in New York for the big blizzard in 2010 that had dumped over two feet of snow the day after Christmas, but I’d heard about it: seven-foot-high drifts in Central Park, with waist-deep snow in the middle of the streets. There were snowstorms almost as bad every year now. I’d been here for Hurricane Sandy, though, and a frozen version of that frightened me. New York had become a magnet for perfect storms.
“You guys should just get going,” I said, watching the snow. “We can’t leave. Not with Luke sick like this. He needs to rest, and we need to be close to hospitals.”
“We’re not leaving you here,” said Susie firmly, looking at Chuck. He shrugged and finished off his drink.
“Charles Mumford,” she continued after a pause, “don’t be ridiculous. All this is going to blow over. You’re being dramatic.”
“Dramatic?” shot back Chuck, almost throwing his glass at the TV as he pointed at it. “Have you been watching the same stuff I have? China declaring war, a biological attack spread across the country, communications down—”
“Don’t exaggerate. They did not declare war. That was just some minister puffing his chest for the cameras,” countered Susie. “Anyway, look at all this stuff.” She motioned around the apartment. “By God, we could hole up in here and survive till next Christmas with all this.”
Finishing my drink, I tried to calm the mood. “I don’t want you guys to fight. I think this will blow over and by tomorrow morning things will calm down.” I turned to Chuck. “If you want to get going, I totally understand. Do what’s best for your family. I mean it.” I looked him in the eye, smiling, trying to convey my seriousness. Sighing, I added, “I need to get some sleep.”
Chuck scratched his head and put his glass down on the kitchen counter. “Me too. I’ll see you later, buddy.” He walked over and hugged me, taking my glass.
Susie got up and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll see you in the morning,” she whispered in my ear, hugging me tightly.
“Please go if he wants,” I whispered back.
Closing the door behind me as I left, I quietly opened our apartment door. After locking the door, I crept into the bedroom, softly closing that door as well. My whole world was lying on the bed in front of me. In the ghostly glow from the LED display on our bedside alarm clock, I could just make out the lumps that were Lauren and Luke. The room smelled humid and lived-in, like a nest, and that thought brought a smile to my face. I stood still and watched them, feeling wonder and joy, their rhythmic breathing soothing my senses.
Luke coughed and took in two or three quick, deep breaths, as if he couldn’t breathe properly, but then he sighed and quieted down.
Silently, I stripped down and slid under the covers. Luke was in the middle of the bed, so I curled up around him, with Lauren on the other side. Leaning over, I brushed a lock of hair away from Lauren’s forehead and kissed her. She mumbled and I kissed her again, and then, with a deep breath, I pulled one of the pillows under my head and closed my eyes.
Everything is going to be fine.