Pandemic (21 page)

Kayla studied her fingernails. Ethan shook his head. “My parents don’t even know I’m doing this.”

“Puppies, yes. Children, no,” Elsa said.

Derek, Jay, and I looked at each other.

“Dude, my parents will kill me if I bring home some random kids,” Derek said, shaking his head.

“The sisters can sleep here for a night,” Jay said.

“And Cam can stay with me and TK. They all seem healthy, right?”

“Yeah,” Derek said. “They seem all right. We left the letter you gave us,” he told Jay. “But the parents . . .”

He didn’t have to say it.

“There may be other relatives we can contact,” Elsa said. “But it seemed wrong to leave them to fend for themselves now. Anyway, I need to get home soon.”

Derek agreed to drop me and Cam at the Senior Center, then return to Jay’s to take Ethan and Elsa home. I wasn’t sure what Kayla’s plans were.

“Lil,” Jay said as I was preparing to leave.

I turned to him, eager to resolve the awkwardness between us since the Ethan kiss. I wanted our easy friendship back. And who else could I tell about Dad getting sick?

“I stopped by the Singh’s house for baby supplies,” he said. “There wasn’t any food. Either they packed the cupboards when they left or they were looted, too.”

“Thanks for checking,” I said, knowing now wasn’t the time to discuss anything else. I tried to ignore my disappointment as he turned back to help the others.

I summoned my strength for Cam, taking her hand as we walked to Derek’s truck. “You can stay with me, OK? I’m taking care of a baby, too. His name is TK. We’re going to pick him up now, then we’ll go to my house for tonight.”

“OK,” she said. “Can we watch some dance shows later?”

“Sure.”

We found Reggie at the Senior Center, sitting in a large room set up with round tables and chairs. He bounced TK on his knee while making conversation with three women across from him.

I waved as we walked over, trying to squelch my nervousness at being around so many people. Old folks weren’t likely to be contagious, though.

“Hello, Miss Lil. Are your ears burning? I was telling the ladies here what a nice job you’re doing with the baby. And who’s this new friend?”

“This is Cam. She’s going to help me with TK for a while.”

A lady with wispy gray hair reached for TK, cooing at him. Reggie handed him to her, then stood, motioning for Cam to take his seat. “They have cookies,” he said. “I’ll get you some.”

Cam sat, dangling her feet. The lady handed her a rattle and she shook it for TK.

“Let’s talk over here,” Reggie said, “away from little ears. What’s going on?”

“It’s bad,” I said. “Jay has two other orphaned girls at his house. We can’t take care of all these kids.”

A woman heh-hemmed behind me. “Well, if it isn’t Miss Teen Humanitarian,” the voice said.

I turned to see a small wrinkled woman with curly white hair. She looked like a tiny Mrs. Claus, but I knew better than to underestimate Mrs. Templeton based on her appearance. She had a big personality inside that little body.

“Hi Mrs. Templeton. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Unlike you.”

She’d had a gruff attitude even when we worked on the elementary school project together. The months hadn’t mellowed her any.

“Unlike me?” I asked, taking the bait.

“Since you won your damn award, Lilianna, I’ve only seen you on a few occasions. And once you had a cigarette in your hand. Tsk, tsk.”

I don’t know what was more shocking: that she had seen me smoking or that she was actually tsk-ing at me.

She gave me the once-over. “You’ve certainly changed your appearance. Since when do you want to help orphans?”

“Since their parents dropped dead from the flu.” I wasn’t about to back down, not even to the former mayor.

“Tell me more about these kids,” she said.

Using an eyebrow raise, I asked Reggie if she was reconsidering. He nodded, so I explained to her what we had accomplished in one afternoon. I hit the highlights: the number of houses we visited, the families we helped, the unfortunate circumstances of TK and the three girls who were left in their homes. I ended with a simple “please.”

“I can’t officially condone using the Senior Center as a day care. And you’d have to make your own arrangements for the evenings. We can’t have children sleeping here, orphans or not,” she said. “But I suppose if Reggie brings a few kids here of his own accord and some of the others happen to help out, well, I wouldn’t stop it.”

“That’s great,” I said. “Even a few hours a day would help.” Having Reggie and the other seniors involved would make a big difference. If Mrs. Templeton had been a sweet old woman, I would have hugged her in gratitude.

Reggie grinned. “It’s the right thing to do, Hazel.”

“Now, don’t go making me change my mind,” she said.

Later that night, Cam watched me try to scrub TK with a damp washcloth as he wriggled on his changing pad.

“Don’t you have a bathtub?” she asked.

“Yes, down the hall. But it’s too big for a baby.”

“I could sit and hold him in the tub while you wash him. He would get cleaner.”

“You’re right. That would be a big help.”

“I love bubble baths,” she said.

“Let’s wash TK first, then you can have bubbles. He might try to eat them.”

She giggled.

Once TK was clean, I offered her a choice of bubble bath scents. “Tangerine or strawberry?”

“Ooh. Strawberry is my favorite.”

I poured some under the running water.

“It’s turning the water pink!” she said. “My favorite color.”

Cam stayed in the tub until her fingers wrinkled. I found a fuchsia T-shirt in the back of my closet for her to sleep in.

“Where’s my bed?”

Carrying TK, I led her to the guest room where she would sleep.

“Where’s your bed?” she asked.

“Down the hall.”

She sniffled.

“This is a pretty bed, don’t you think?”

More sniffling.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“It’s
beige
. And it’s too lonely in here. I’m all by myself.”

I sighed. Of course she didn’t want to be alone. The poor kid had been through a lot. I should have realized that. “Let’s go in my room and think about it,” I said. “TK needs his bottle.”

She sat on my bed next to me, swinging her legs while I fed the baby.

“Where does TK sleep?”

I pointed at his nearby playpen, sensing where she was going with this.

“The baby gets to sleep in here. It’s not fair.”

“You’re right.” Once TK was comfortable in his playpen, I dragged a small loveseat from my parent’s room into mine. It made long scrapes in the wooden planks, but the condition of the hallway floor didn’t matter much these days. I tucked sheets on the mini-couch the best I could and found a soft blanket in the closet.

“Better?”

“Yes.” She held her hands behind her back. “And guess who’s here?”

“Who?”

“Milkshake!” She displayed the stuffed cow proudly. “I packed him with my clothes.”

“Good thinking.” I tucked her in. “The bathroom’s down the hall if you need it, remember?”

“Uh huh.”

“I’ll leave the hall light on in case you wake up.”

“OK.”

“Goodnight, Cam. Goodnight, Milkshake.”

“Goodnight.” Her voice was thick with sleep.

I waited until her breathing was steady before tiptoeing to Dad’s office. I called Dad’s cell, then Mom’s. No answer from either of them. I crawled into bed a few minutes later, wide awake.

Spring rain pattered against my window, a comforting sound, and finally weariness set in. I peeked at TK and Cam sleeping soundly nearby. We were nice and cozy in my room, like a nest of mismatched birds. I tried not to think about how many predators attacked defenseless chicks or about how vulnerable we were on our own.

Had it only been a day since Jay slept over? I wondered if Kayla had finally gone home, and if he was awake and alone now, afraid like me. I drifted into an uneasy sleep with thunder rumbling in the distance.

An hour later, a loud boom jolted me awake. The electricity flickered once, twice, then died completely.

C
HAPTER
22

Whether in 1918 or today, I have to believe the main worry during a pandemic is the same: concern for our loved ones. We may have cell phones, email, and texting now, but in the end, we just want our children to survive.

—Blue Flu interview, a Delaware mother

I
was too old to be afraid of the dark, but the sudden blackness took my breath away. I rummaged around blindly in my nightstand drawer the looters had skipped. Ever since the Mr. B incident, I’d been sleeping with a flashlight in there. Fear had its benefits for once.

Somehow TK and Cam didn’t wake during the storm. I made my way by flashlight to the hall closet to retrieve the big battery-powered lantern. In my sleepiness, it took a full minute to process the empty shelves, to remember that the light had been stolen.

Worried and annoyed, I climbed back into bed. If I turned the flashlight off, the utter darkness disconcerted me, but I didn’t want to waste the batteries. Finally, I raised the window shade a little, letting some moonlight peak through.

When a grayish sunlight filtered through the house on Saturday morning, the power was still out. After several minutes of searching, I found an old utilities bill in Dad’s desk and used my cell phone to call the number listed. Once I navigated through the automated menu to report the outage, I received prerecorded bad news: “Due to the high rate of employee absenteeism, we are experiencing longer than usual delays in handling power outage problems. We appreciate your patience during this difficult time. Press one if you would like a courtesy call when power to your area is restored.”

Shit.

I did not press one. Instead, I tried calling Mom, then Dad. How many hours had passed since our last conversations? Neither answered. I stood there, immobilized, until TK woke up crying, which woke up Cam, who couldn’t figure out where she was. She screamed when I came into the room. TK cried even louder.

“You slept here last night, remember?” I rocked TK, sitting on the edge of Cam’s makeshift bed and rubbing her back. “You helped give the baby a bath.”

Her bottom lip jutted out and she inhaled a shaky breath. “I want to go home,” she said. “I want my mom.” Saying the words released a floodgate of tears.

I patted her back, trying not to cry again, too. Parents were hard to come by these days. Finally, her sobs settled into a few last sniffles.

Reggie called my cell phone while Cam ate dry cereal and TK slurped down his bottle.

“We have electric at the Senior Center,” he said. “Do you want me to bring the kids over after breakfast?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “Can you pick them up around eleven?”

“Can do, Miss Lil. See you later.”

“What are we doing today?” Cam asked after I’d hung up the phone.

“You’re going to visit the place where we picked up TK yesterday. Lots of grandmas and grandpas stay there. They can’t wait to see you.”

She stirred her cereal with her spoon. “Will there be more cookies?”

“If you eat breakfast,” I said, feeling about forty years old. It was an effort to act mature, but I had to hold it together for TK and Cam. It made me proud and weary at the same time.

After TK was fed, burped, and changed, Cam got dressed. She put on an orange T-shirt, purple leggings, yellow socks, and finished off the look with a wide red hair tie.

“You look like a rainbow,” I said as she preened.

Her smile disappeared.

“What’s the matter?” I asked, holding TK in my arms.

“I’m missing green and blue. I can’t be a rainbow without green and blue.”

“Right.” I read once that patience was like a muscle you could strengthen over time. Mine was definitely getting a workout.

It took fifteen minutes, but after more searching in my closet by flashlight, we found some colored bangle bracelets that made her happy.

“I’ll do a rainbow dance!” Twirling around, she chanted, “Rainbow, rainbow, rainbow.” She stopped, surveying my black outfit with her critical six-year-old eye. “You,” she said, “are missing the rainbow feeling.”

I slipped on Megs’s silver necklace with the pearl. “Better?”

She sighed. “One rainbow will be enough.”

When Reggie knocked on the door, I checked out the side window before opening it. I doubted looters would knock first, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

“I rang the bell a few times before I realized it needed electricity,” he said.

“Yeah, I keep flipping light switches out of habit. Let’s hope the power outage doesn’t last long.”

“Everything will work out,” Reggie said with his usual optimism.

Reggie pulled out of the driveway with Cam and TK, passing Jay as he walked toward my house. I sat on my front step and waited for him, trying not to stare as he approached. He wore a brown T-shirt and jeans—very casual—but somehow he still looked good.

“Hey,” he said.

“No kids in tow?”

“My aunt’s off for the morning. And good news,” he said. “I tracked down the girls’ grandfather before losing the computer. He’s coming to get them.”