Sick

With an exasperated sigh, he decided to have a look around.

He’d been to Hector’s enough times that he knew its layout. Contrary to most of the houses he’d lived in, the living room in Hector’s place was in the back. Up front were the spare bedroom and the kitchen.

He skipped the window to the spare bedroom because he knew Hector only used it to store his mom’s old stuff, and glanced into the kitchen. There was nothing unusual there. An empty beer bottle on the counter, but what house didn’t have one of those now and then?

Hector’s place was far enough out of town that he didn’t need a fence. So Karl simply moved around the house and looked through the sliding glass door into the living room.

Nobody there. Nothing out of the ordinary. But that damn tingle wouldn’t go away.

He moved along the back to the window that looked in on Hector’s bedroom. The shade was pulled down, but the window was open about four inches so air could get inside.

“Hector?” he called through the gap.

Silence.

“He’s not here,” he said, trying to convince the tingle this was one of those times it was wrong. But it just kept burning away back there, in no apparent hurry to leave.

The screen over the window was loose, so it was a simple matter to pull it out a few inches, slip his hand behind it, and move the shade out of the way so he could take a look.

The room was dark, full of shadows, but the glow from the clock radio on the nightstand was bright enough that Karl could see someone lying on the bed. By the guy’s shape, Karl was all but positive it was his friend.

“Hector, is that you? Buddy, what are you doing? It’s after midnight. Hector. Hector! Wake up.”

Hector didn’t even twitch.

Karl’s first thought was that his friend had had a heart attack. Hector did love his greasy burgers so it wouldn’t be a huge surprise.

“Goddammit. I swear if you’re dead, I’m going to be pissed!”

Not knowing what else to do, Karl pulled the screen all the way off, pushed the window out of the way, and climbed through the opening. There was a dresser just on the other side, and as much as he tried to be careful, he ended up knocking a few things onto the floor before his feet reached the carpet.

“Sorry,” he said automatically.

Hector was lying on his side, facing away from him, so Karl moved around the bed, flicking on the bedroom light as he passed the switch.

It was Hector all right.

Karl put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, and was surprised at how cold Hector felt.

“You okay, man?” he said, shaking him.

He touched his friend’s neck, searching for a pulse. But there was nothing.

“Oh, God.”

He was too late. Hector had already passed. As he started to pull his hand back, he noticed a whole pile of tissues, half on the bed, half on the floor below it. Without even thinking about it, he leaned down to take a closer look, then suddenly stopped himself and took a step back.

The previous night had been his off night, which meant he’d gone to bed a lot earlier and gotten up around noon. While he’d been sitting around the living room, flipping through the channels on the TV, he couldn’t help but get sucked into the news about the deadly flu outbreak in Sage Springs. Some of the reporters were saying that so far anyone who caught the disease had died. By the evening, after his wife had come home and they were watching the news together, the reports gave the impression that the situation was under control.

But here was Hector, dead from what looked like the flu to Karl. And didn’t Hector’s route take him through Sage Springs?

He stumbled back further, falling to the floor, his hand touching something moist. Quickly, he pushed himself back to his feet, not taking the time to see what it was.

“Oh, Jesus. Oh, Jesus. Oh, Jesus.”

Facing the bed as if he expected Hector to rise out of it and attack him, he moved back to the window and scrambled outside.

There, he doubled over and rubbed his face as he tried to catch his breath. After several seconds, he stood up, knowing he had to get out of there. He raced to his truck and reached up to open the door. That’s when he saw it. The damp spot on the side of his hand. Water or…

…mucus.Hector’s snot.

Instantly he thought about the moist spot he’d touched when he fell.

Eyes wide in panic, he dropped to the ground and wiped his hand against the asphalt, but he knew it was already too late. He’d rubbed his hand across his face. It could have gotten in his eyes, his nose, his mouth. Hell, chances were he’d been infected the moment he stepped into the room.

“Unofficial sources have told me that, so far, no one who has caught this flu has survived.”

I’m a dead man.

Karl’s mother had been a saint, at least to him. She’d been the nicest, kindest person he’d ever known. “Just doing what’s right,” she’d say. “Don’t know how to live any other way.” Karl had learned from her example and tried to live that way, too. He was a good son, then later a good husband, and a good friend, as was evident by his trip to check on Hector.

Kneeling there beside his truck, he knew there was only one right thing he could do now.

He made three phone calls as he drove away. The first was to 911, reporting Hector’s death and warning them that it appeared to be related to the Sage Springs flu. The second was to work, telling them that Hector was sick and would be staying home, in case they were thinking about sending someone else out to check on him. He didn’t mention his own plans, that he wouldn’t be finishing his route, or, in fact, wouldn’t even be starting it.

The third call was to his wife’s cell phone. At that time of night, she would have turned it off, knowing if heweregoing to call, he’d use their landline. But he didn’t want to talk to her. He just wanted to tell her he loved her one last time, so he said it to her voice mail, then turned off his phone and shoved it under his seat.

After that, he drove into the desert, away from the highway, and down a side road he was pretty sure no one would be on for several days. After he parked, he found a couple scraps of paper in the glove compartment and wrote two identical notes: DEATH FLU VICTIM INSIDEDO NOT OPEN DOORSCALL CDC

He then put them on the windows of both doors, and settled in.

If he were still feeling okay by noon the next day, he’d drive back into town and take whatever punishment the company decided to give him.

But punishment was unnecessary. Karl Trainer never did drive back into town.

Unlike Karl, the three guys who’d had breakfast with Hector-Luis Chavez, Diego Ortega, and Al Rangel-were not blessed with the foreknowledge of what happened to them. So the virus that was believed to be contained in the small town of Sage Springs gained more and more of a foothold in Victorville with every person the three men came into contact with. This included, but was not limited to: the waitress and hostess at Kerry’s Diner where they’d eaten, the customers at Ralph’s supermarket between 11:41 a.m. and 12:03 p.m., Al Rangel’s neighbor Charlie Fisher, and their respective spouses.

The disease then spread further through the eastern part of the city, clinging onto new hosts wherever it could. It was only by pure chance that none of those touched were heading over the hill into San Bernardino or Riverside or Orange County or Los Angeles. If that had happened, things could have gotten a whole lot worse.

Once again, Karl proved to be a hero. His call to 911 about Hector led to the entire town being shut down before sunrise, and the quarantine zone being expanded to a roughly triangular area that went from Victorville in the West, to China Lake in the North, to Barstow in the East.

When the calls of more sick and dead started coming in, at least it didn’t catch anyone by surprise. And by luck and the quick work of the National Guard, the Victorville branch of the outbreak ran its course without spreading further.

Unfortunately, health officials in Victorville weren’t the only ones who started receiving calls.