Hot Zone by Sandy Holden Page A

and pressed send. No, I didn’t really want to know. Finally Meri and Tucker browbeat me into giving them the information and input the facts on Mom and Dad. It took a couple of hours, but we received word back that they weren’t on any list. I didn’t know what to make of that, but Meri thought it was good news.
    Another bit of good news was that Phil had woken in the night and been pretty rational for a change. She still seemed skittish but focused on us and knew who she was. She wouldn’t talk about the things that scared her, but you could tell by looking at her she remembered them. She wanted every light we had on and said (in a rather embarrassed voice) that she didn’t want Tucker or me to get near her. Other than that, she didn’t seem to mind us. A couple of times, however, she would look at me and cringe a little. She didn’t really look Tucker’s way at all unless it was by accident. I was just so happy that she wasn’t crying and screaming I could have danced. Previously I was worrying maybe there was something a doctor would be able to do and by keeping her here we were, well, dooming her.
    That night there were gunshots right down in our street. The bar below us, along with just about everything else, was closed. There was a dark to dawn curfew in effect, and even during the day the military didn’t want anyone out unless they were going to or from a “necessary” workplace (read: police, grocery store personnel, gas station attendant, doctors, utility workers) or stocking up on food. The local cops were easily identifiable since they walked around with simple cotton masks over their faces in deference to the “virus” or “gas” (or evil spirits or whatever). The National Guard, however, was in full anti-infective gear, and bore the look of spacemen in the quiet streets. Admittedly, Catfish didn’t warrant many guardsmen, but a few were around. And they were very heavily armed. Now maybe you understand why I didn’t want to send Tucker off to travel the roads. God only knew what they would do if they caught him roaming about.
    The next morning I was so antsy waiting for news about Mom and Dad I decided we were in desperate need of food, and come hell or high water (or germs or spacemen carrying firearms) I was going to the store. And by God, I was going to walk. Meri gave Tucker a worried look, and I snarled at her, “No, I’m not going crazy. I just feel like a goldfish in a bowl, and I’m tired of swimming in circles.” Okay, so maybe I was a little crazy, but I really felt better, not like I was sliding into insanity. The question was: would I know if I were? I pushed that irritating rational thought away. I was going and that was that.
    Tucker didn’t say a word, just put on a large black coat and waited for me. Meri had spoken to him, but I hadn’t asked what was said. Looking back at it now, I think I was sort of ticked off that she and Tucker treated me as if I might explode at any time. I was recovering, wasn’t I? I wasn’t going to be like Eddy, or like Phil. I was going to be normal. I wondered if they thought just because they hadn’t ever fallen sick it meant they were saner than I. Or maybe stronger. Of course to their point of view, I was acting a little irrational, but I certainly didn’t see it that way then.
    I stopped at the door and glared at Tucker. He didn’t say anything or seem to notice my glare. He just waited, eventually yawning. So much for my killer glare. I stepped out of the apartment and went down past the apartment below ours. I hesitated at the door, wondering if there was anything I could or should do to help. I thought about knocking, but what would I say? Gosh, sorry your mom is nutty. No, best to just move on.
    At the door to the street, I turned on Tucker. “You can just turn around and go back up.”
    He shrugged. “I could use the air.”
    “You’re not understanding me. I want to do this by myself. Go.” I’m usually very polite to