Frozen Pandemic

John says a short prayer before heading out into the snow to check on Sean. The boy is getting worse by the day, trembling and pale. Yesterday, he couldn’t hold John’s gaze, his pupils going glassy from the fever. Though he sees all the signs, John asks for Sean’s healing anyway.

It’s been ten days since the coyote attack, and John more than anyone is surprised he and his family are still around. Jackie’s injury is almost fully healed. She takes walks each day with Sharon, rebuilding her strength and stamina. Jennifer has been quietly reading her way through Fresler’s library. John has been planning. He’s taken advantage of the unexpected pause in their journey to check and double-check the route ahead. He’s been helping Sharon figure out what meals the group can create from the viable rations, so that she can harvest what they need from the greenhouse and cook and freeze appropriate amounts for travel. They want to take as much healthy food as they can carry, without weighing themselves down so much that they don’t make good time as they hike north.

But the real reason John hasn’t sped the plans along as fast as he initially intended is Sean. At first, he traveled to the shed to catalogue the symptoms and check in on Sean and Fresler’s progress so he could decide when to make the tough decision of leaving them behind. But Sean struck up conversation, and it didn’t take John long to realize they have a lot in common. Sean applied to the police academy last year and had hoped to become an officer. If John had a son, he would want him to be just like Sean.

Now, John reaches the storage shed for his daily visit. He raps on the doorframe and is relieved when he doesn’t see Fresler inside. Despite having lived on Fresler’s property for more than a week, John still has not warmed up to the man. Fresler’s laid-back (a.k.a. lazy) demeanor and the way his eyes dart around when he’s asked to make decision are irritations John can’t ignore. Though he’s reluctant to admit it to himself, it angers him that Sean is the one suffering, while Fresler is still wandering around the property, feeling grand other than a little wind-chill chapping his cheeks.

“How are you feeling?” he asks Sean.

“I’m scared,” Sean admits. His pile of blankets shakes from his shivering, but the face peeking out of the sleeping bag is blotchy red and drenched in sweat.

John crouches beside Sean, trying not to let his worry show. “That’s understandable. When I was in the army, I had to face death several times. I know how frightening it can be.”

But to his surprise, Sean shakes his head. “I’m not scared to die. I’m scared for Tina.”

A lump forms in John’s throat. He certainly understands that sentiment. He worries far more for Jackie and Jennifer than he does for himself. He wishes he could reach out and touch Sean, reassure him, but he’s not taking any chances. His mask stays secured on his face whenever he talks to Sean and Fresler, although the virus shouldn’t be airborne in the still-freezing temperatures. “I promise you,” he says, putting all of his understanding and sympathy into the vow, “I’ll watch over Tina and keep her safe. Nothing is going to happen to your sister.”

“I can’t tell you how much that means to me.” Sean smiles, wide and genuine.

“How are your wounds healing? Are the bite marks still infected?” John nods at Sean’s bandages.

Sean fights fatigue to slowly shove all his coverings off and unwrap his wounds. John studies the yellow pus from a distance. His leg and forearm are swollen and an angry red. After a moment, he nods again and tells Sean goodbye for now. He decides it’s time to talk with Sharon, Fresler, and Jackie alone.

John gathers them by the riverside, not wanting Larry or Tina to be able to eavesdrop. He looks over all their heads and stares at the pine trees in the distance. The branches are swaying in a wind he can’t hear over the sound of the rushing river.

“I just talked with Sean.” John shakes his head. “He’s getting worse. The infection is spreading. But we still can’t be certain that he’s contracted the virus. This could be a normal infection. In fact, it probably is.”

“How can you be sure, though?” Sharon stares at Fresler as she asks the question, and John sees her fingers twitch, longing to reach out to him.

John hesitates. The two men’s vastly different reactions to the same coyote attack has been weighing on him, and he’s still not certain he has the right answers. “Sean is seriously ill. Fresler is not,” he says, thinking of the CDC’s latest report. “If Sean has the virus, and Fresler was exposed as well, that may mean that Fresler is immune.”

Jackie gasps. Sharon lets out a strangled sob that could be disbelief or joy. Fresler is silent and pensive, digesting the idea.

“However,” John continues, speaking far more decisively now, “I think that immunity is impossible. I think it’s more likely that Sean’s fever is the result of the infection. Virus or no, if we don’t do something soon, he could die from sepsis.”

“What can we do?” Fresler spreads his hands. “We can’t take him to a hospital, and we don’t have antibiotics.”

“The closest town is Littlefork, correct?” asks John. He remembers the name from when he mapped out his family’s trek.

“Yes. It’s about a three-day hike,” says Fresler.

John looks up at the clear blue sky and shakes his head. “We really are in the middle of no-where. Sean doesn’t have that much time. Any cabins close by?”

“Yes, there are two cabins about a three-hour hike from here,” Sharon answers. “The Lewises are that way”—she points—“and the Rasmussens are that way”—she points the opposite direction. “Both families have already gone north.”

“We’ll need to search their cabins for antibiotics. I know it’s a long shot, but we have to try. I’ll leave tomorrow.”

“I can go with you,” says Fresler.

“No,” he says with all the gusto of a commanding officer, “you need to stay with Sean. You’re technically still under quarantine, you know. The virus has a fourteen-day incubation period.” He wishes he could keep him and his ponytail in the shed, but this is Fresler’s property, and Fresler insists on staying active as his leg heals.

Sharon looks at Fresler with enough warmth to melt snow. “I’ll go with John and show him how to get to the cabins.” She turns to John. “I haven’t lived in the area as long as Fresler has, but I know the terrain.”

“Great.” John rubs his hands together. The chill is seeping through his gloves. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning, first thing.”