Contagion

34

CATSKILL MOUNTAINS, NEW YORK

The hours had passed slowly and miserably for Jack. He’d not been able to fall back asleep. Nor could he even find a comfortable position with his shivering. When Richard finally staggered into the room with his hair standing on end, Jack was almost glad to see him.

“I’ve got to use the bathroom,” Jack called out.

“You’ll have to wait for Terese to get up,” Richard said. He was busy rebuilding the fire.

The door to Terese’s room opened a few minutes later. Terese was dressed in an old bathrobe; she didn’t look any better than Richard. Her normal helmet of highlighted curls looked more like a mop. She was without makeup, and the contrast with her normal appearance made her seem exceptionally pale.

“I’ve still got my headache,” Terese complained. “And I slept lousy.”

“Me too,” Richard said. “It’s the stress, and we never really had any dinner.”

“But I’m not hungry,” Terese said. “I can’t understand it.”

“I’ve got to go to the bathroom,” Jack repeated. “I’ve been waiting for hours.”

“Get the gun,” Terese said to Richard. “I’ll unlock the handcuffs.”

Terese came into the kitchen and bent down to reach under the sink with the handcuff key.

“Sorry you didn’t sleep well,” Jack said. “You should have joined me out here in the kitchen. It’s been delightful.”

“I don’t want to hear any mouth from you,” Terese warned. “I’m not in the mood.”

The handcuff snapped open. Jack rubbed his chafed wrist as he stiffly got to his feet. A wave of dizziness spread over him, forcing him to lean against the kitchen table. Terese quickly relocked the handcuff around Jack’s free wrist. Jack wouldn’t have been able to resist even if he’d had the intention.

“Okay, march!” Richard said. He was training the gun on Jack.

“In a second,” Jack said. The room was still spinning.

“No tricks!” Terese said. She stepped away from him.

As soon as he could, Jack walked to the bathroom on rubbery legs. The first order of business was to relieve himself. The second was to take a dose of the rimantadine with a long drink of water. Only then did he hazard a look in the mirror. What he saw surprised him. He wasn’t sure he would have recognized himself. He looked like a vagrant. His eyes were bright red and slightly swollen. Dried blood was on the left side of his face and spattered on the shoulder of his uniform shirt, apparently from the blow he’d received in the car at the tollbooth. His lip was swollen where Richard had split it. Dried mucus stuck to his formidable stubble.

“Hurry up in there,” Terese commanded through the door.

Jack ran water in the sink and washed his face. Using his index finger, he brushed his teeth. Then with a little water he smoothed his hair.

“It’s about time,” Terese said when Jack emerged.

Jack suppressed the urge to give a clever retort. He felt he was walking a tightrope with these people, and he didn’t want to push his luck. He hoped they wouldn’t lock him back to the kitchen drain, but the wish was in vain. He was marched right back to the sink and secured.

“We should eat something,” Richard said.

“I got cold cereal last night,” Terese said.

“Fine,” Richard said.

They sat at the table a mere four feet away from Jack. Terese ate very little. She again mentioned that she just wasn’t hungry. They didn’t offer any cereal to Jack.

“Have you thought about what we’re going to do?” Richard asked.

“What about those people who were supposed to kill Jack in the city? Who were they?”

“It’s a gang from down where I live,” Richard said.

“How do you contact them?” Terese asked.

“I usually call them up or just go over to the building they occupy,” Richard said. “I’ve been dealing with a man called Twin.”

“Well, let’s get him the hell up here,” Terese said.

“He might come,” Richard said. “If the money is right.”

“Call him,” Terese said. “How much were you going to pay them?”

“Five hundred,” Richard said.

“Offer him a thousand if you have to,” Terese said. “But say it’s a rush job and that he’s got to come today.”

Richard scraped back his chair and went into the living room to get the phone. He brought it back to the kitchen table. He wanted her to listen in case they had to up the ante; he didn’t know how Twin would respond to the idea of coming all the way to the Catskills.

Richard dialed and Twin answered. Richard told him he wanted to talk once again about knocking off the doctor.

“Hey, man, we’re not interested,” Twin said.

“I know there was trouble in the past,” Richard said. “But this time it will be a snap. We have him handcuffed and hidden away outside the city.”

“If that’s the case, you don’t need us,” Twin said.

“Wait!” Richard said hastily. He’d sensed Twin was about to hang up. “We still need you. In fact, to make it worth your while driving out here, we’ll pay double.”

“A thousand bucks?” Twin asked.

“You got it,” Richard said.

“Don’t come, Twin,” Jack shouted. “It’s a setup!”

“Shit!” Richard barked. He told Twin to hold the line for a second. In a fit of fury, Richard cracked Jack over the head with the butt of his gun.

Jack closed his eyes hard enough to bring tears. The pain in his head was intense. Again he felt blood drip down the side of his scalp.

“Was that the doc?” Twin asked.

“Yeah, that was the doc,” Richard said angrily.

“What did he mean, ‘setup’?” Twin asked.

“Nothing,” Richard said. “He’s just running off at the mouth. We’ve got him handcuffed to the kitchen drainpipe.”

“Let me get this straight,” Twin said. “You’re paying a thousand bucks for us to come out and ice the doc while he’s chained to a pipe.”

“It’ll be a like a turkey shoot,” Richard assured him.

“Where are you?” Twin asked.

“About a hundred miles north of the city,” Richard said. “In the Catskills.”

There was a pause.

“What do you say?” Richard asked. “It’s easy money.”

“Why don’t you do it yourself?” Twin asked.

“That’s my business,” Richard said.

“All right,” Twin said. “Give me directions. But if there is any funny stuff, you’ll be one unhappy dude.”

Richard gave directions to get to the farmhouse and told Twin they’d be waiting for him.

Richard slowly replaced the receiver while he looked triumphantly at Terese.

“Well, thank God!” Terese said.

“I’d better call in sick,” Richard said, picking up the phone again. “I should have been at work already.”

After he finished his call Terese made a similar one to Colleen. Then she went to take a shower. Richard went to fill the wood box.

Wincing against the pain, Jack pushed himself back to a sitting position. At least the bleeding had stopped. The prospect of the Black Kings’ arrival spelled doom. From bitter experience, Jack knew these gang members would have no qualms about shooting him no matter what state he was in.

For a few seconds Jack lost total control of himself. Like a child in a temper tantrum he yanked inconsequentially at his shackles. All he managed to do was cut into his wrists and knock over some detergent containers. There was no way he was about to break either the drainpipe or the handcuffs.

After the fit had passed, Jack slumped over and cried. But even that didn’t last long. Wiping his face on his left sleeve, he sighed and sat up. He knew he had to escape. On his next trip to the bathroom he’d have to try something. It was his only chance, and he didn’t have much time.

Three-quarters of an hour later Terese reappeared in her clothes. She dragged herself to the couch and plopped down. Richard was on the other couch flipping through an old 1950s Life magazine.

“I really don’t feel too good,” Terese admitted. “My headache is still killing me. I feel like I’m coming down with a cold.”

“Me too,” Richard said without looking up.

“I have to use the bathroom again,” Jack called out.

Terese rolled her eyes. “Give me a break!” she said.

No one moved or spoke for five minutes.

“I suppose I can just let loose right here,” Jack said, breaking the silence.

Terese sighed and threw her legs over the side of the couch. “Come on, stalwart warrior,” she said disparagingly to Richard.

They used the same method as before. Terese unlocked the handcuffs while Richard stood poised with the gun.

“Do I really need these handcuffs while I’m in the bathroom?” Jack asked when Terese started to relock them.

“Absolutely,” Terese said.

Once inside the bathroom Jack took another rimantadine and a long drink of water. Then, leaving the water running, he stepped on the closed toilet seat, grasped the window trim with both hands, and began to pull. He increased the pressure to see if the window casing would come loose.

Just then the door opened.

“Get down from there!” Terese snarled.

Jack stepped down from the toilet and cringed. He was afraid that Richard was about to hit him on the head again. Instead Richard just crowded into the bathroom, holding the gun out in front of him trained on Jack’s face. The gun was cocked.

“Just give me a reason to shoot,” he hissed.

For a second no one moved. Then Terese ordered Jack back to the kitchen sink.

“Can’t you think of another place?” Jack said. “I’m getting tired of the view.”

“Don’t push me,” Terese warned.

With the cocked gun just a few feet away, there was nothing Jack could do. In a matter of seconds he was handcuffed to the drainpipe yet again.

A half hour later Terese decided to go out to the store to get some aspirin and some soup. She asked Richard if he wanted anything. He told her to get some ice cream; he thought it might feel good on his sore throat.

After Terese had left, Jack told Richard that he had to go to the bathroom again.

“Yeah, sure,” Richard said without budging from the couch.

“I do,” Jack averred. “I didn’t get to go last time.”

Richard gave a short laugh. “Tough shit,” he said. “It was your own fault.”

“Come on,” Jack said. “It will only take a minute.”

“Listen!” Richard yelled. “If I come in there it will be to crack you over the head again. Understand?”

Jack understood all too well.

Twenty minutes later Jack heard the unmistakable sound of a car approaching along the gravel drive. He felt a rush of adrenaline in his system. Was it the Black Kings? His panic returned, and he stared forlornly at the unbudgable drainpipe.

The door opened. To Jack’s relief it was Terese. She dropped a bag of groceries on the kitchen table, then retreated to the couch and lay down and closed her eyes. She told Richard to put the groceries away.

Richard got up without enthusiasm. He put what had to be kept cold in the refrigerator and the ice cream in the freezer. Then he placed the cans of soup in the cupboard. In the bottom of the bag he found aspirin and a bunch of small cellophane-wrapped packages of peanut-butter crackers.

“You might give some of the crackers to Jack,” Terese said.

Richard looked down at Jack. “You want some?” he asked.

Jack nodded. Although he still felt ill, his appetite had returned. He’d not eaten anything since the deli food in the van.

Richard fed Jack peanut butter crackers whole, like a mother bird dropping food into a waiting chick’s gaping mouth. Jack hungrily devoured five of them and then asked for water.

“For chrissake!” Richard voiced. He was annoyed this job had fallen to him.

“Give it to him,” Terese said.

Reluctantly Richard did as he was told. After a long drink Jack thanked him. Richard told Jack to thank Terese, not him.

“Bring me a couple of aspirin and some water,” Terese said.

Richard rolled his eyes. “What am I, the servant?”

“Just do it,” Terese said petulantly.

Three-quarters of an hour later another car could be heard coming up the driveway.

“Finally,” Richard said as he tossed a magazine aside and heaved himself off the couch. “They must have driven by way of Philadelphia, for chrissake.” He headed for the door while Terese pushed herself up to a sitting position.

Jack swallowed nervously. He could feel his pulse pounding in his temples. He realized he didn’t have long to live.

Richard pulled open the door. “Shit!” he voiced.

Terese sat bolt upright. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s Henry, the goddamn caretaker!” Richard croaked. “What are we going to do?”

“You cover Jack!” Terese barked in panic. “I’ll talk to Henry.” She stood up and swayed for a moment as a wave of dizziness overcame her. Then she went out the door.

Richard dashed over to Jack. En route he’d picked up the gun, which he now held by the barrel as if it were a hatchet. “One word and so help me I’ll bash your head in,” he growled.

Jack looked up at Richard. He could see the man’s determination. Outside he could hear a car come to a stop followed by the muffled sound of Terese’s voice.

Jack was faced with an unreasonable quandary. He could yell, but how much sound he could make before being incapacitated by Richard was questionable. Yet if he didn’t try, he’d soon be facing the Black Kings and certain death. He decided to go for it.

Jack put his head back and started to scream for help. As expected, Richard brought the handle of his gun crashing down on Jack’s forehead. Jack’s scream was cut off before he could form any words. A merciful darkness intervened with the suddenness of a light being switched off.

Jack regained consciousness in stages. The first thing he was aware of was that his eyes wouldn’t open. But after a struggle the right one did, and a minute later so did the left. When he wiped his face on his sleeve he realized that his lids had been sealed together with coagulated blood.

With his forearm, Jack could feel that he had a sizable lump centered at his hairline. He knew it was a good place to be hit if you had to take a wallop. That part of the skull was by far the thickest.

He blinked to clear his vision and looked at his watch. It was just after four, a fact confirmed by the anemic quality of the late-afternoon sunlight coming through the window over the sink.

Jack glanced around the living room, which he could see from under the kitchen table. The fire had burned down significantly. Terese and Richard were sprawled on their respective couches.

Jack changed his position and in the process tipped over a container of window cleaner.

“What’s he doing now?” Richard asked.

“Who the hell cares,” Terese said. “What time is it?”

“It’s after four,” Richard said.

“Where are these gang friends of yours?” Terese demanded. “Are they coming by bicycle?”

“Should I call and check?” Richard asked.

“No, let’s just wait here for a week,” Terese said irritably.

Richard put the phone on his chest and dialed. When the phone was answered he had to ask for Twin. After a long wait Twin came on the line.

“Why the hell aren’t you here?” Richard complained. “We’ve been waiting all day.”

“I’m not coming, man,” Twin said.

“But you said you were,” Richard rejoined.

“I can’t do it, man,” Twin said. “I can’t come.”

“Not even for a thousand dollars?”

“Nope,” Twin said.

“But why?” Richard demanded.

“ ’Cause I gave my word,” Twin said.

“You gave your word? What does that mean?” Richard asked.

“Just what I said,” Twin said. “Don’t you understand English?”

“But this is ridiculous,” Richard said.

“Hey, it’s your party,” Twin said. “You have to do your own shit.”

Richard found himself holding a dead telephone. He slammed the receiver down. “That worthless bum,” he spat. “He won’t do it. I can’t believe it.”

Terese pushed herself up into a sitting position. “So much for that idea. That puts us back to square one.”

“Don’t look at me. I’m not doing it,” Richard snapped. “I’ve made that crystal clear. It’s up to you, sister. Hell, all this was for your benefit, not mine.”

“Supposedly,” Terese retorted. “But you got some perverted enjoyment out of it. You finally got to use those bugs you’ve been playing with all your life. Yet now you can’t do this simple thing. You’re some sort of…” She struggled for the word: “Degenerate!” she said finally.

“Well, you’re no Snow White yourself,” Richard yelled. “No wonder that husband of yours left you.”

Terese’s face flushed. She opened her mouth but no words came out. Suddenly she lunged for the gun.

Richard took a step backward. He feared he’d overdone it by mentioning the unmentionable. For a second he thought Terese was about to use the gun on him. But instead she flew into the kitchen, cocking the gun as she went. She stepped up to Jack and pointed the gun at his bloodied face.

“Turn away!” she commanded.

Jack felt as if his heart had stopped. He looked up the quivering barrel and into Terese’s arctic blue eyes. He was paralyzed, incapable of following her command.

“Damn you!” Terese said through a sudden flood of tears.

Uncocking the gun, she tossed it aside, then rushed back to the couch to bury her head in her hands. She was sobbing.

Richard felt guilty. He knew he shouldn’t have said what he had. Losing her baby and then her husband was his sister’s Achilles’ heel. Meekly he went over to her and sat on the edge of the couch.

“I didn’t mean it,” Richard said, stroking her back gently. “It slipped out. I’m not myself.”

Terese sat up and wiped her eyes. “I’m not myself either,” she admitted. “I can’t believe these tears. I’m a wreck. I feel awful too. Now my throat’s sore.”

“You want another aspirin?” Richard asked.

Terese shook her head. “What do you think Twin meant about giving his word?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Richard said. “That’s why I asked him.”

“Why didn’t you offer him more money?” Terese said.

“He didn’t give me a chance,” Richard said. “He hung up.”

“Well, call him back,” Terese said. “We have to get out of here.”

“How much should I offer?” Richard said. “I don’t have the kind of money you have.”

“Whatever it takes,” Terese said. “At this point money shouldn’t be a limiting factor.”

Richard picked up the phone and dialed. This time when he asked for Twin he was told Twin was out. He wouldn’t be back for an hour. Richard hung up.

“We have to wait,” he said.

“What else is new?” Terese commented.

Terese lay back on the couch and pulled a crocheted afghan over her. She shivered. “Is it getting cold in here or is it just me?” she asked.

“I had a couple of chills myself,” Richard said. He went to the fire and piled on more logs. Then he got a blanket from his bedroom before reclining on his couch. He tried to read, but he couldn’t concentrate. He was intermittently shivering despite the blanket. “I just thought of a new worry,” he said.

“What now?” Terese asked. Her eyes were closed.

“Jack’s been sneezing and coughing. You don’t think he was exposed to my flu strain, the one I put in the humidifier?”

With the blanket wrapped around him, Richard got up and went into the kitchen and asked Jack about it. Jack didn’t answer.

“Come on, Doc,” Richard urged. “Don’t make me have to hit you again.”

“What difference does it make?” Terese called from the couch.

“It makes a lot of difference,” Richard said. “There’s a good chance my strain was the strain that caused the great flu epidemic of 1918. I got it in Alaska from a couple of frozen Eskimos who died of pneumonia. The time frame was right.”

Terese joined him in the kitchen. “Now you’re getting me worried,” she said. “Do you think he has it and has exposed us?”

“It’s possible,” Richard said.

“That’s terrifying!” She looked down at Jack. “Well?” she demanded. “Were you exposed?”

Jack wasn’t sure if he should admit to his exposure or not. He didn’t know which would anger them more. The truth or his silence.

“I don’t like it that he’s not answering,” Richard said.

“He’s a medical examiner,” Terese said. “He had to have been exposed. They brought the dead people to him. He told me on the phone.”

“I’m not afraid of that,” Richard said. “The exposure to worry about is to a living, breathing, sneezing, coughing person, not a dead body.”

“Medical examiners don’t take care of live people,” Terese said. “All their patients are dead.”

“That’s true,” Richard admitted.

“Besides,” Terese said, “Jack is hardly sick. He’s got a cold. Big deal. Wouldn’t he be really ill by now if he’d contracted your flu bug?”

“You’re right,” Richard said. “I’m not thinking straight; if he had the 1918 flu bug he’d be flat out by now.”

Brother and sister returned to their couches and collapsed.

“I can’t take much more of this,” Terese said. “Especially the way I feel.”

At five-fifteen, exactly one hour after the previous call, Richard phoned Twin. This time Twin himself picked up.

“What the hell are you pestering me for?” Twin asked.

“I want to offer more money,” Richard said. “Obviously a thousand wasn’t enough. I understand. It’s a long drive up here. How much are you looking for?”

“You didn’t understand me, did you?” Twin said irritably. “I told you I couldn’t do it. That’s it. Game’s over.”

“Two thousand,” Richard said. He looked over at Terese. She nodded.

“Hey, man, are you deaf or what?” Twin said. “How many times…”

“Three thousand,” Richard said, and Terese again nodded.

“Three thousand bucks?” Twin repeated.

“That’s correct,” Richard said.

“You are sounding desperate,” Twin said.

“We’re willing to pay three thousand dollars,” Richard said. “That should speak for itself.”

“Hmmm,” Twin said. “And you say you have the doc handcuffed.”

“Exactly,” Richard said. “It will be a piece of cake.”

“I tell you what,” Twin said. “I’ll send someone up there tomorrow morning.”

“You’re not going to do what you did this morning, are you?” Richard asked.

“No,” Twin said. “I guarantee I’ll have someone up there to take care of things.”

“For three thousand,” Richard said. He wanted to be sure they understood each other.

“Three thousand will be just fine,” Twin said.

Richard replaced the receiver and looked over at Terese.

“Do you believe him?” she asked.

“This time he guaranteed it,” Richard said. “And when Twin guarantees something, it happens. He’ll be here in the morning. I’m confident.”

Terese sighed. “Thank God for small favors,” she said.

Jack wasn’t so relieved. His panic rekindled, he determined he had to find a way to escape that night. Morning would bring the apocalypse.

Afternoon dragged into evening. Terese and Richard fell asleep. Unattended, the fire died down. A chill came with the darkness. Jack wracked his brains for ideas of escape, but unless he was freed from the drainpipe, he didn’t see how he could get away.

Around seven both Richard and Terese began to cough in their sleep. At first they seemed more to be clearing their throats than coughing, but soon the hacking became more forceful and productive. Jack considered the development significant. It gave support to a concern he’d been harboring since they both began complaining of chills: namely, that they had caught the dreaded flu from him just as Richard suspected.

Thinking back to the long car ride from the city, Jack realized it would have been hard for them not to have contracted his illness. During the ride Jack’s symptoms were peaking, and symptoms of the flu often peaked with maximum viral production. Each of Jack’s sneezes and coughs had undoubtedly sent millions of the infective virions into the car’s confined space.

Still, Jack couldn’t be sure. Besides, his real worry was facing the Black Kings in the morning. He had more pressing concerns than the health of his captors.

Jack yanked futilely at the drain with the short chain between the handcuffs. All he succeeded in doing was to make a racket and abrade his wrists more than they already were.

“Shut up!” Richard yelled after having been awakened by the clamor. He switched on a table lamp, then was immediately overwhelmed by a fit of coughing.

“What’s happening?” Terese asked groggily.

“The animal is restless,” Richard rasped. “God, I need some water.” He sat up, waited for a moment, then got to his feet. “I’m dizzy,” he said. “I might even have a fever.”

He walked hesitantly into the kitchen and got a glass. As he was filling it, Jack thought about knocking his legs out from under him. But he decided that would only win him another blow to the head.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Jack said.

“Shut up,” Richard said.

“It’s been a long time,” Jack said. “It’s not as if I’m asking to go for a run in the yard. And if I don’t go, it’s going to be unpleasant around here.”

Richard shook his head in resignation. After he took a drink of water, he called out to Terese that her services were needed. Then he got the gun from the kitchen table.

Jack heard Richard cock the gun. The move narrowed Jack’s options.

Terese appeared with the key. Jack noticed her eyes had a glazed, feverish look. She bent down under the sink and unlocked one side of the handcuffs without a word. She backed away as Jack got to his feet. As before, the room swam before his eyes. Some escape artist, he thought cynically. He was weak from lack of food, sleep, and liquids. Terese relocked the handcuffs.

Richard marched directly behind Jack with the gun at the ready. There was nothing that Jack could do. When he got to the bathroom he tried to close the door.

“Sorry,” Terese said, using her foot to block it. “You lost that privilege.”

Jack looked from one to the other. He could tell there was no use arguing. He shrugged and turned around to relieve himself. When he was finished he motioned toward the sink. “How about my washing my face,” he asked.

“If you must,” Terese said. She coughed but then held herself in check. It was obvious her throat was sore.

Jack stepped to the sink, which was out of the line of Terese’s sight. After turning on the water, Jack surreptitiously got out his rimantadine and took one of the tablets. In his haste he almost dropped the vial before getting it back into his pocket.

He glanced at himself in the mirror and recoiled. He looked significantly worse than he had that morning, thanks to the new laceration high on his forehead. It was gaping and needed stitches if it was to heal without a scar. Jack laughed at himself. What a time to worry about cosmetics!

The trip back to the spot of Jack’s internment was without incident. There were a few moments when Jack was tempted to try something, but each time his courage failed him. By the time Jack was again locked up under the sink he felt disappointed in himself and correspondingly despondent. He had the disheartening sense that he’d just let his last chance of escape slip by.

“Do you want any soup?” Terese asked Richard.

“I’m really not hungry,” Richard admitted. “All I want is a couple of aspirin. I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.”

“I’m not hungry either,” Terese said. “This is more than a cold. I’m sure I have a fever too. Do you think we should be worried?”

“Obviously we’ve got what Jack has,” Richard said. “I guess he’s just more stoic. Anyway, we’ll see a doctor tomorrow after Twin’s visit if we think we should. Who knows, maybe a night’s sleep is all we need.”

“Let me have a couple of those aspirins,” Terese said.

After taking their analgesic Terese and Richard returned to the living room. Richard spent a few moments building up the dying fire. Terese made herself as comfortable as possible on her couch. Soon Richard went back to his. They both seemed exhausted.

Jack was surer than ever that both his captors had the deadly strain of the flu. He didn’t know what his ethics dictated he do. The problem was his rimantadine, and the fact that it possibly could thwart the flu’s progress. Jack agonized silently over whether he should tell them of his exposure and talk them into taking the drug to potentially save their lives even though they were totally committed to ending his and were responsible for the deaths of other innocent victims. With that in mind, did he owe Terese and Richard compassion in the face of their callous indifference? Should his oath as a physician prevail?

Jack took no comfort at the notion of poetic justice being done. Yet if he shared the rimantadine with them, they might deny it to him. After all, they weren’t choosy about the way he died as long as it wasn’t directly by their hand.

Jack sighed. It was an impossible decision. He couldn’t choose. But not making a decision was, in effect, a decision. Jack understood its ramifications.

By nine o’clock Terese’s and Richard’s breathing had become stertorous, punctuated by frequent coughing episodes. Terese’s condition seemed worse than Richard’s. Around ten a markedly violent fit of coughing woke Terese up, and she moaned for Richard.

“What’s the matter?” Richard questioned lethargically.

“I’m feeling worse,” Terese said. “I need some water and another aspirin.”

Richard got up and woozily made his way into the kitchen. He gave Jack a halfhearted kick to move him out of the way. Needing little encouragement, Jack scrambled to the side as much as his shackled hands would allow. Richard filled a glass with water and stumbled back to Terese.

Terese sat up to take the aspirin and the water, while Richard helped support the glass. When she was finished with the water, she pushed the glass away and wiped her mouth with her hand. Her movements were jerky. “With the way I’m feeling, do you think we should head back to the city tonight?” she questioned.

“We have to wait for morning,” Richard said. “As soon as Twin comes we’ll be off. Besides, I’m too sleepy to drive now anyway.”

“You’re right,” Terese said as she flopped back. “At the moment I don’t think I could stand the drive either. Not with this cough. It’s hard to catch my breath.”

“Sleep it off,” Richard said. “I’ll leave the rest of the water right here next to you.” He put the glass on the coffee table.

“Thanks,” Terese murmured.

Richard made his way back to his couch and collapsed. He drew the blanket up around his neck and sighed loudly.

Time dragged, and with it Terese and Richard’s congested breathing slowly got worse. By ten-thirty Jack noticed that Terese’s respiration was labored. Even from as far away as the kitchen he could see that her lips had become dusky. He was amazed she’d not awakened. He guessed the aspirin had brought her fever down.

In spite of his ambivalence, Jack was finally moved to say something. He called out to Richard and told him Terese didn’t sound or look good.

“Shut up!” Richard yelled back between coughs.

Jack stayed silent for another half hour. By then he was convinced he could hear faint popping noises at the end of each of Terese’s inspirations that sounded like moist rales. If they were, it was an ominous sign, suggesting to Jack that Terese was slipping into acute respiratory distress.

“Richard!” Jack called out, despite Richard’s warning to stay quiet. “Terese is getting worse.”

There was no response.

“Richard!” Jack called louder.

“What?” Richard answered sluggishly.

“I think your sister needs to be in an intensive care unit,” Jack said.

Richard didn’t respond.

“I’m warning you,” Jack called. “I’m a doctor, after all, and I should know. If you don’t do something it’s going to be your fault.”

Jack had hit a nerve, and to his surprise Richard leaped off the couch in a fit of rage. “My fault?” he snarled. “It’s your fault for giving us whatever we have!” Frantically he looked for the gun, but he couldn’t remember what he’d done with it after Jack’s last visit to the bathroom.

The search for the pistol only lasted for a few seconds. Richard suddenly grabbed his head with both hands and moaned about his headache. Then he swayed before collapsing back onto the couch.

Jack sighed with relief. Touching off a fit of rage in Richard had not been expected. He tried not to imagine what might have happened had the gun been handy.

Jack resigned himself to the horror of witnessing the spectacle of a virulently pathogenic influenza wreaking its havoc. With Terese’s and Richard’s rapidly worsening clinical state, he recalled stories that had been told about the terrible influenza pandemic of 1918-19. People were said to have boarded a subway in Brooklyn with mild symptoms, only to be dead by the time they’d reached their destination in Manhattan. When Jack had heard such stories he’d assumed they had been exaggerations. But now that he was being forced to observe Terese and Richard, he no longer thought so. Their swift deterioration was a frightening display of the power of contagion.

By one A.M. Richard’s breathing was as labored as Terese’s had been. Terese was now frankly cyanotic and barely breathing. By four Richard was cyanotic, and Terese was dead. At six A.M. Richard made a few feeble gurgling sounds and then stopped breathing.