and continued down the stairs.
He was taken aback by her use of his name. How had she known his name? And had they really been neighbors for five years?
He went to his kitchen to start the coffee. It was earlier than his norm, but he might as well stay up now.
A muffled scream came from below him. Then another.
Fear slipped around him, pulling his skin into gooseflesh. He flipped open his phone and began to dial 911 before he remembered.
The scream came again. Was she screaming his name?
He slipped on sneakers, tucked his phone into the waistband of his pajama pants and descended to her apartment. The door stood open three inches.
“Adam, help me! Please help! Can you hear me? Adam!” Her voice was a frantic sob.
She was somewhere in the back of the apartment, where the bedroom was. He went in, noting the swirl of blankets on the couch–is that where she sleeps?–feeling creepy and oddly ashamed.
“Uh, hello? I’m here.”
“Oh Adam, oh thank god,” she came down the short hallway, sobbing, a child bundled in blankets in her arms. He looked way too big to be carried. “Can you take us to the hospital? He’s not…he’s unconscious, I think, and…” She stumbled as she got closer to him, her arms giving way under the weight of her ten-year-old son. Adam stepped back and the boy nearly fell between them before she recovered herself, hefting him more solidly against her chest.
“Is he sick? I don’t want to touch him!”
“No, you won’t have to touch him. Just drive us. I’ll hold him…in the back…please just, please drive us to…” Her sobbing overcame her words. Mucous ran freely over her top lip. Adam felt his stomach turn.
“Fine, okay. He’s not gonna puke, though, right? I don’t want anyone puking in my car.”
~ ~ ~
The emergency room at the hospital was bedlam. Eighteen people waited in the line to sign in and the chairs were all full. People were lined up against the walls. Everyone seemed to be coughing. And vomiting. Nurses ran back and forth, handing out kidney shaped pans to the heaviest pukers, their faces tight with fatigue.
Adam was about to turn around and leave when his neighbor shoved the boy into his arms, her face a white mask of determination. “Hold him. I’m going to find someone to look at him right now . Just stay right here.” She spun away before he could even voice a protest.
The kid was heavy; dead weight heavy.
Adam searched for an empty chair but there were none. He shifted the kid and scanned the waiting room. It was like a crazy version of hell–all that vomit! He decided to wait outside. It wasn’t too hot or too cold and he’d be able to see inside to the waiting room when his neighbor came back. When this was all over, he was going to give her hell over making him wait like this. Some people needed to be reminded that the world didn’t revolve around them.
The doors whooshed open before him and the fresh air was all the sweeter for not having the tang of vomit in it. And it was so much quieter, he’d never realized how loud the sick were.
He put the kid down by the wall where he’d be out of the way of anyone coming by and then scanned the parking lot. There was an ambulance parked at the curb about sixty feet away. How come they were parked there and not out retrieving sick people? It was obvious now that something was spreading like crazy, some new epidemic.
He looked down at the kid. No movement. Adam felt a twinge of unease. Well, but…he was just asleep. That’s all. It’s not like the kid’s dead or anything. It’s just the flu . Nobody dies of the flu, not really .
He decided to jog over and check out the ambulance. The emergency room entrance was at the back of the hospital and relatively secluded. No one would bother the kid and if his mom came out, she’d see him lying right there. He’d be back in a sec. The uneasiness rolled through him again like distant heat lightning. He ignored it.
He jogged quickly to
He was taken aback by her use of his name. How had she known his name? And had they really been neighbors for five years?
He went to his kitchen to start the coffee. It was earlier than his norm, but he might as well stay up now.
A muffled scream came from below him. Then another.
Fear slipped around him, pulling his skin into gooseflesh. He flipped open his phone and began to dial 911 before he remembered.
The scream came again. Was she screaming his name?
He slipped on sneakers, tucked his phone into the waistband of his pajama pants and descended to her apartment. The door stood open three inches.
“Adam, help me! Please help! Can you hear me? Adam!” Her voice was a frantic sob.
She was somewhere in the back of the apartment, where the bedroom was. He went in, noting the swirl of blankets on the couch–is that where she sleeps?–feeling creepy and oddly ashamed.
“Uh, hello? I’m here.”
“Oh Adam, oh thank god,” she came down the short hallway, sobbing, a child bundled in blankets in her arms. He looked way too big to be carried. “Can you take us to the hospital? He’s not…he’s unconscious, I think, and…” She stumbled as she got closer to him, her arms giving way under the weight of her ten-year-old son. Adam stepped back and the boy nearly fell between them before she recovered herself, hefting him more solidly against her chest.
“Is he sick? I don’t want to touch him!”
“No, you won’t have to touch him. Just drive us. I’ll hold him…in the back…please just, please drive us to…” Her sobbing overcame her words. Mucous ran freely over her top lip. Adam felt his stomach turn.
“Fine, okay. He’s not gonna puke, though, right? I don’t want anyone puking in my car.”
~ ~ ~
The emergency room at the hospital was bedlam. Eighteen people waited in the line to sign in and the chairs were all full. People were lined up against the walls. Everyone seemed to be coughing. And vomiting. Nurses ran back and forth, handing out kidney shaped pans to the heaviest pukers, their faces tight with fatigue.
Adam was about to turn around and leave when his neighbor shoved the boy into his arms, her face a white mask of determination. “Hold him. I’m going to find someone to look at him right now . Just stay right here.” She spun away before he could even voice a protest.
The kid was heavy; dead weight heavy.
Adam searched for an empty chair but there were none. He shifted the kid and scanned the waiting room. It was like a crazy version of hell–all that vomit! He decided to wait outside. It wasn’t too hot or too cold and he’d be able to see inside to the waiting room when his neighbor came back. When this was all over, he was going to give her hell over making him wait like this. Some people needed to be reminded that the world didn’t revolve around them.
The doors whooshed open before him and the fresh air was all the sweeter for not having the tang of vomit in it. And it was so much quieter, he’d never realized how loud the sick were.
He put the kid down by the wall where he’d be out of the way of anyone coming by and then scanned the parking lot. There was an ambulance parked at the curb about sixty feet away. How come they were parked there and not out retrieving sick people? It was obvious now that something was spreading like crazy, some new epidemic.
He looked down at the kid. No movement. Adam felt a twinge of unease. Well, but…he was just asleep. That’s all. It’s not like the kid’s dead or anything. It’s just the flu . Nobody dies of the flu, not really .
He decided to jog over and check out the ambulance. The emergency room entrance was at the back of the hospital and relatively secluded. No one would bother the kid and if his mom came out, she’d see him lying right there. He’d be back in a sec. The uneasiness rolled through him again like distant heat lightning. He ignored it.
He jogged quickly to
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