Holly Fever (Mondamin Court #1)

Chapter Five

Zoey was woken by the sounds of her mother coughing. She struggle to sit up straight on the couch. Her head spun. What day was it? She'd been so sick, she had to think. Tuesday. The 23rd of December. "Mom, are you okay?" she asked.

"I will be," Lydia said, walking into the room. She was dressed in loose slacks and a heavy sweater. Her face was flushed. "Just give me a minute. You want some tea?" She turned to go back into the kitchen. She sneezed. And sneezed again. She bent over, still sneezing, and then folded to her knees.

"Mom!" Zoey scrambled to get up. Standing upright made her dizzy, and she nearly fell herself.

She got to where her mother was still on her hands and knees. Lydia was trying to mouth the words that she would be okay, but she was wheezing too hard and she couldn't get the words out. Snot ran from her nose, and she was hot to the touch.

Zoey managed to half help, half drag her mom to the couch. Once seated, Lydia tried to reassure Zoey again. "I'm, I'm, I'm . . ." she stammered and went back to gasping without ever being able to get the word "okay" out.

Zoey staggered back to her side of the couch and found her phone. She waited what seemed like a long time for an answer. When the 911 dispatcher finally answered, Zoey said, "This is Zoey Scott." Should I have said Devon? That's what's on my ID if they ask to see it. She rattled off their address. "My mom's collapsed. She can't get her breath."

"Has she been exposed to the flu that's going around? Or had any contact with anyone who might have been exposed?"

"Yeah," Zoey admitted, "I just got back from college."

"The studio," Lydia added, finally catching her breath enough to talk—barely. "There were sick people there too."

She doesn't want me to think this is my fault. But it is.

The dispatcher asked a half dozen other questions and assured Zoey an ambulance was on the way. Then they waited. Lydia had another coughing fit and nearly passed out. Zoey rose and paced the floor, ignoring her own dizziness and the cold air. She kept looking out the window, looking for the ambulance. Twice she almost picked up her phone and called 911 again, to see what the delay was.

An ambulance came down the street and parked in front of the house. Zoey opened the door for the EMT. "Finally! You're here."

The EMT shot her a look. His eyes were bloodshot, and his face weary. "Been a day."

They homed in on Lydia. She had yet another coughing fit while the first EMT assessed her. A second man brought in an oxygen tank and put a mask over her face. A woman pushed a stretcher in and placed it next to the couch. Lydia was too weak to stand, and they had to help her over to the cart. She watched Zoey, her eyes betraying her fear. Zoey held her hand. "I'll get dressed and come to the hospital. It's going to be okay, Mom."

"No," the first EMT said. "No visitors."

"B-but," Zoey stammered out.

"No visitors. The hospital is on lockdown, quarantine."

"But," Zoey said again.

The woman made a gesture with her head. The men pushed the stretcher out toward the waiting ambulance. The woman came and sat with Zoey. "I'm sorry," she said. "This virus has gotten out of hand. They're instituting a full quarantine of all cases."

"But I'm sick too. I have been exposed. So it's okay, right?" Zoey said.

The woman shook her head. "You'd be a risk for exposing others," she said. "You need to stay home, inside."

The thought that she'd brought the virus to her home, that she'd infected her mother, weighed down on Zoey's heart like a rock. She sank onto the couch. She couldn't infect anyone else. She couldn't.

"Is there someone you can call?" the woman asked. "To talk to? You shouldn't visit anyone, just in case."

Zoey nodded. "I've a friend in town. I'll be okay. Just help Mom, okay?"

"We'll do everything we can for her, I promise," the woman said. She gave her a pat on the shoulder and was out the door.

Zoey stood and watched the ambulance with her mom inside pull out and head down the road, turn the corner, and disappear.

She tried to call her friend Sarah, but Sarah didn't answer. She staggered into the kitchen and made herself some tea, just for something to do, to keep from freaking out. After the third try to reach her cellphone, she found Sarah's home number and called that. A woman answered, Sarah's mom.

"Is Sarah there?" Zoey asked. "This is Zoey, her friend from college."

There was a long pause. "She's sick."

"I'm sorry," Zoey said. "Can I talk to her?"

"She's in the hospital."

Zoey gasped. "Is she going to be okay?"

There was a sniffle on the other end. "We're not sure. She's been in and out today. Only, only, they shut the hospital down. We can't visit."

"I know," Zoey said. "My mom's sick too."

They talked a while. Sarah's mom offered her sympathy, and it made Zoey feel a little better.

She set the phone down and looked around. Shadows were lengthening across the room as afternoon gave way to evening. The house felt cold, empty.

She turned on the TV, just to have something to do. It did little to help her mood.

"Three days since the death of Holly Meadows, and the CDC has declared this flu outbreak unprecedented. The worst they've seen in history," the newscaster was saying. "More than sixty people have died, and thousands are sick. Hardest hit are Midwestern cities: Des Moines, Minneapolis, and Kansas City. Des Moines hospitals have instituted quarantine procedures in an attempt to stop the spread. They aren't allowing any visitors and are taking the unprecedented step of telling those with other medical problems to avoid coming in unless it's life or death."

"And this is the flu?" his co-anchor asked.

"According to the CDC, yes."

The program switched to an interview with a CDC expert.

"All the symptoms point to the flu. Preliminary genetic analyses confirm that. It's an influenza virus. That said, it's a new strain, one we haven't seen before."

"Is that certain?" the interviewer asked. "There are rumors that the university's virology department had recently received samples of the Spanish flu, the same virus that killed nearly twenty-two million people in 1918. Could there have been a containment breach?"

"No," the expert replied. "This strain of the flu is entirely unique, unlike anything we've ever seen. But this strain has one important thing in common with the Spanish flu. One of the main reasons that pandemic was so bad was because the strain was new. No one had any learned immunity to it. The same dynamic is at work here."

"Just a moment before we go to break," the interviewer said. "How bad is this likely to be? As bad as that pandemic?"

The expert gave a guarded look and said. "Likely much worse, if initial reports are anything to go on."

Worse? Worse than twenty-two million dead? Zoey thought as the TV went to commercial. When the news came back on, they were giving the tally of known infections. It wasn't pretty. Of the over ten thousand cases—Ten thousand in four days?—the majority were in the American Midwest. There were a few hundred on each coast, three in France, and one confirmed case in the United Kingdom.

"Breaking news," the newscaster interrupted. "Suvarnabhumi Airport in Bangkok, Thailand, has shut down as authorities declare quarantine. Malaysia Airlines flight 304 arrived with an unwanted passenger, Holly Fever. Six passengers succumbed to the fever on the twelve-hour flight from Minneapolis International Airport, and many more are sick."