Plague Day One

Nathan crouched down on chubby legs and stared at the dead cat.

“Kitty?” he asked, and pushed at the bush so he could shuffle closer to the corpse.

Flies buzzed around the body. The little boy ignored them and sat cross legged on the ground.

“Kitty, are you poorly?” Nathan patted the top of the head and stared intently at the cat’s eyes. They had a milky sheen. Dark green mucus leaked from its nose and mixed with the blood coming from its mouth.

“Kitty?”

The cat didn’t purr or meow like his nanny’s cat. It simply lay in the undergrowth gathering flies. Bored of staring, the boy abandoned the corpse and skipped back up the garden, chasing a butterfly that fluttered nearby.

***

BBC Radio 2 News Report
Five days later

“Good afternoon, the time is twelve o’clock, and I’m Cassandra Brown. Today the NHS put out further warnings as a second outbreak of bubonic plague epidemic spirals out of control in southern England.

“There have been over two hundred known cases of bubonic plague in the past week, with one hundred and thirty of those infected already dead, and the other seventy-two fighting for their lives in Oxford’s John Radcliffe hospital. Mr Rob McElroy, head of the Infectious Diseases Department at the John Radcliffe released the following statement today.”

“Six months ago a less deadly strain of plague erupted in the south of the capital. Easily controlled with antibiotics, my colleagues and I had hoped the country had escaped a more serious outbreak. But tests confirmed this second wave is a different strain of bubonic plague is especially resistant to antibiotics. While we are doing everything in our power to save those infected, it is vital that anyone showing symptoms quarantines themselves at home. Do not go to your GP or the hospital. We need to get this outbreak under control before the disease spreads across the country.”

“The NHS issued a list of symptoms this morning. If you recognise one or more of these symptoms in yourself or a family member you are to remain indoors and call the dedicated helpline where you will be connected to a nurse. For now, the infection is contained in the southeast, and the government is doing everything possible to keep the spread of the plague under control.”

***

Day One

“Nathan’s sick.” Liz waited in the doorway, watching Johnny for a reaction.

“I know.” He fiddled with his fingers.

Big dumb fingers. Do something, she thought. Get up, go to him, see what I did.

“Probably got a cold,” he finally said.

“Don’t be so bloody naïve!” Liz resisted the urge to shove him into action. “You know as well as I do what it is.”

“You listened to the news report with me, they said the plague hasn’t got this far north yet,” Johnny’s voice was weak.

“They lie about the news. All the time. You told me that.” She stepped into the room. “What should we do?”

“You want me to Google the symptoms again? I’ve got them memorised, but you never now, the NHS might add something,” he said, his tone sarcastic. Johnny flipped the lid to his laptop up. “It’s all over Twitter.”

“What is?”

“The word ‘plague’. I tell you, getting hard to find anything of use.”

“You didn’t answer me.” She wrung her fingers, her mind on her sleeping son. “What do we do?”

“I haven’t a bloody clue. Should we go all seventeenth century and hang a rag out the letterbox? Mark an ‘X’ in red on the door?” He shook his head, hands in his ginger hair. “I’m certainly not calling this in. No way. What if he’s sick something else, like meningitis? We’ll need the help. We’ll need a hospital for him. I don’t want to be stuck in here forever.”

“He’s swollen, Johnny. The poor kid, his neck… puffed out like bloody hamster cheeks.” She cupped her hands under her chin to show him. “Like he’s got a month’s nuts stuffed in there.”

“Mumps has similar symptoms.”

“You think his vaccines didn’t work? Don’t be silly.” Liz paced restlessly. “I should tell you – before he went to sleep he told me his groin hurt,” she said in a quieter voice.

“Did you have a look, to be sure?” Johnny put his laptop away, defeated in his searches for something useful.

“No. I’m too afraid to check.”

“If the only symptom is the swollen glands around his neck he might be coming down with a bad cold – or the flu,” Johnny said, hope in his voice. “Why don’t I go and have a peek?”

“Yes, thank God, you’re finally on the same page as me. Maybe you can find something I didn’t.”

Johnny opened the door to the living room as a long cry erupted, filling the air for what seemed to be minutes and ended as a scream. Then nothing, silence. Liz and Johnny glanced at each other.

“What the hell?” Johnny said and threw open the front door.

Another scream rang out

“Where’s that coming from?” Liz asked. They stood on the step outside, Nathan momentarily forgotten.

“Down the end, who lives in the last house?”

She shrugged. “Don’t remember.” She shivered as a breeze ruffled through her hair.

“Don’t you think we should help, what if they’re in trouble?” Johnny started down the path.

“I wouldn’t do that.” It was Donald, calling out from by his front door across the road. “You’ve no idea if they’re sick or not.”

Liz felt her stomach turn. “What do you mean?”

“What do you think I bloody mean. Sickness is everywhere. You mind the plague doesn’t get you both, and your little one.” His sucked on his pipe, and blew out a cloud of grey smoke. “I’d stay inside for now. Until things settle down.”

“But the infection is only in the south,” Johnny said.

Shut up, Liz thought. You didn’t listen to a word about Nathan, not a single bloody word. She grabbed onto his shirt sleeve and held fast. “Might be talking sense.” An image of her son flashed in front of her eyes, of his neck and the painful swellings that were already present. Just how catchy was the plague? Could Donald catch the disease from across the road? Liz sniffed and fancied she caught a whiff of his pipe smoke. Was the virus infectious enough to make it that far?

“Come on, Johnny. Let’s get inside.” She pulled harder until he finally gave up on whatever torment might be occurring at down the street. “Bye, Donald,” she called out.

“You take care, love.” He stood under his porch, watching as she tugged Johnny back in, puffing on his pipe and giving them a curious sidelong glance.

As she shut the door the scream echoed out again.

“Don’t make me go to Nathan right now.” Johnny leaned against the closed door, his eyes closed. “Me looking won’t make a difference.”

Liz didn’t want to hear any more screams. What the hell was going on? “You know what, don’t worry about it. Wait until he wakes up. You’re right, best if we didn’t wake him up.” She tried to block out the sound of another scream. In the distance, the blare of an ambulance siren grew louder. Thank God. Take them away. I don’t want to get ill. Almost immediately, she regretted the thought. Could be them next, with Nathan. “Took me ages to settle him,” she mumbled.

Johnny nodded. “They sound like they’re in so much pain.” He reached out for a hug.

“Will Nathan be next?”

He shrugged. “I still think he’s got the flu.”

Liz walked into his arms and rested her ear against his chest. Johnny’s heart thump-thumped under her ear.

“Where was he – you know, about five days ago?”

His voice was loud, echoing inside him. Liz lifted her head.

“That’s how long the incubation is, isn’t it?” Johnny had a look of hope on his face. “There will be other kids at the school who are sick – or not. Call up Fi, find out if George is ill, or Susan, about Ollie.”

Liz sat down hard on the sofa. “You think I should?”

“Yes! Of course you should – if they are okay, chances are Nathan is as well. Then there’ll be no need to call the authorities.” He fetched the phone and handed it to her. “Do you want the address book?”

“No, I know their numbers.” Liz dialled Fi first. She answered on the second ring.

“Hello?” Fi answered the phone out of breath.

“It’s me, Liz.”

“Oh, it’s you.” She sounded disappointed.

“Expecting someone else?”

“Yes, the doctor.” There was a pause at the other end. “George is ill.”

“Shit.” Liz felt the blood drain from her head. What if they both had flu? What were the possibilities, at this time of the year? Liz tried to calculate odds and decided Nathan might still be safe.

“He’s got these horrible swellings coming up around his neck.”

Liz closed her eyes.

“And under his arms the glands are all puffy.” Fi let out a sigh. “I’m sick as well,” she whispered the last words. “Dave hasn’t figured that out yet.”

“Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

“Can’t do anything now. I’ve called that helpline. Apparently they’ll send a doctor around to diagnose him. Me too, I suppose.”

“Oh, Fi. Is there anything we could do to help?”

“I think someone’s at the door now. Wish us luck.”

“Fingers crossed and all that.” The other line clicked, and Liz put the phone down.

For a moment, she sat motionless, her hand resting gently on the hall table. Tears were close, and she no longer wanted to call Susie. She didn’t want Johnny to ask her about the phone call and what Fi told her. This was too much, too soon. The disease was supposed to be contained down south. What the hell was going on with people getting sick up here? She glanced up and his expression said it all. He’d caught enough of the conversation. Johnny banged the back of his head against the door, once, twice, three times.

“At least Nathan was first,” she said in barely a whisper.

Johnny stared wide-eyed at her.

“We can take care of him to the end. Aren’t you glad he’s sick first, not you or me? I wouldn’t want to die with him watching.”

“Shut up.” Johnny marched into the living room and kicked at the edge of the sofa. “He’s got a cold. You wait and see. Besides there are people surviving, why wouldn’t Nathan?”

“They’ve not reported anyone as having survived the plague.”

“Yes, they did. They talked about the survivors on the news…”

“Seventy-odd patients are still fighting for their lives. They’re not better, Johnny. Grow up. They simply haven’t died yet.”

***

“Hello, NHS helpline, Sam speaking. I need the name of the patient and the date of birth.”

“Um, yes, his name is Nathan John Potts.”

“Date of birth, please.”

“Oh sorry, Jan 15th, 2008.”

“Can you confirm the first line of the patient’s address?”

“Yes, 16 Alderly Road.”

“Are you a relative?”

“I’m Liz Potts. His mother.”

“Thank you.” There was a pause. “Okay, I have his details up. Can you tell me the symptoms?”

“Um. He, errr, he has swollen cheeks.”

The sound of his tapping away on the keyboard filters down the phone line. “Just the cheeks?”

“No. It’s his whole neck. The skin is black and blue and so puffy his breath wheezes in and out..”

He didn’t say anything for a moment then Liz heard a gentle inhalation. What did that mean? That Nathan actually had the plague? Or that the operator had too many phone calls today with everyone reporting the same miserable symptoms?

“Does the child have any swellings anywhere else?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “Between his legs.”

“Any other symptoms?”

“Fever. He’s really hot and I can’t bring it down.”

“Run a tepid bath and leave him to play a while. That should help get the temperature down. Do you have Calpol or Neurofen?”

“Yes, he’s had the maximum dose.”

“You can double the dose if he’s still not responding.”

“Isn’t that dangerous for him?”

There was a pause. “Don’t worry, everything will be fine.”

“Should I take him to the hospital, if he gets worse?”

“No. I’m sorry.” He sounded so apologetic, almost as if he was sad for her. “Your son has the symptoms of the bubonic plague. I’m logging him in now. A doctor will come out to visit you first thing in the morning.”

Liz breathed a huge sigh of relief. They weren’t going to get cut off. Johnny was wrong. “Thank you, so much.”

“I’m sorry… I must to ask you not to leave your house.” He cleared his throat. “Not for any reason.” He sounded pained now, almost guilty. Why on earth would he be feeling guilty?

“Are you certain he’s got the plague? I’ve read the news on the BBC. The infection is only in the south. We’re in the northwest.”

“There have been some other… reports of the disease spreading. All I can tell you is to stay put, don’t leave your house, and try to keep your son comfortable.”

“Oh, what about other symptoms, things to watch out for?”

“Vomiting, diarrhoea, extreme pain…” He stopped and let out a sigh. “Are you sure you want this?”

“For God’s sake, tell me!”

“Okay, okay.” He took a deep breath. “The patient might be bleeding from the ears. The buboes-”

“What the hell are ‘buboes’?”

“The lumps under his arms, legs and around his neck.”

“Oh, carry on.” A chill passed over her. Her son couldn’t have the plague. He was only four.

“Um, there… there might be a further rash, seizures and delirium.”

“What are his real chances of getting through this?”

“I’m sorry. I simply don’t know.”

***

Liz headed back upstairs. Need to be strong for my little baby, need to be there for him, she thought. Johnny hadn’t realised she’d been on the phone. He’d go ape if he found out she’d called up.

She hadn’t wanted the confirmation. Not really. Ignorance is bliss, right? Liz already knew Nathan had the plague. She ran the symptoms through her mind: Swellings, rash, fever, vomiting, bleeding ears and delirium. Don’t think about death. Don’t include death. With him confirmed as ill would the NHS do anything? Or would they leave them isolated in at home, waiting to die? She shivered. Best not think about the future at all.

How much food did they have in the cupboards? She mentally ran through what she thought they had. How long could they last with out leaving the house? A week? Two? They’d definitely be going hungry by the third week. Liz frowned. Three weeks of quarantine. Don’t be silly. To be on the safe side, she should get on the computer and do a Tesco’s order. Hopefully they’d deliver. Hell, if they left the bags at the end of the path that would be okay.

Now stop fretting. She stood just inside of Nathan’s room and listened to him pant in his sleep. Daring to get closer, she put a hand to his head, pulling away quickly at the heat. She planned on giving him a double-dosed him of Calpol, like the NHS man had said. But not yet, she wasn’t going to disturb her boy, no point making him more miserable. He’d probably wake crying. Would he scream, like whoever it was down the street? She stroked his hair, fair, and sweaty, away from his forehead, and lowered the covers in the hopes he might cool off a little. Would she be next, in two to five days? Or Johnny? Would Nathan be dead by then, or still clinging on to life? She unfolded the futon sofa in the corner of the room and made it into a makeshift bed. The cupboard in his room had all the spare linens. Liz grabbed a cover and settled down for the night.

***

“Liz,” Johnny whispered as he gave her a gentle shake. “Liz, wake up.”

It took her a moment to remember where she was. This was Nathan’s room, and he was ill.

“Liz, you need to see this,” Johnny said and pulled her covers down.

“Can’t you wait until the morning?” she whispered back. “What time is it, anyway?”

“Almost three. Come into the hallway. This is important.”

Liz sighed and sat up. Best deal with him, then she could get back to bed. “This better be good.”

“You didn’t hear them because you were sleeping with the windows closed.”

“Hear who?” She rubbed her eyes, fed up, sleepy, and now she needed the loo.

“Would you come with me.” He half dragged her to their bedroom. The sash windows were wide open. “Look down the road.”

For a moment, she didn’t understand what was going on. Maybe the sound of the drills confused her – or the sight of an out of place large army vehicle parked outside the house.

“What…” She leaned further out the window to try and get a better view, but Johnny caught hold of her.

“Don’t let them see you,” he whispered in her ear.

Then everything clicked into place. Three doors down the army were boarding up a house – in the middle of the night. Steel panels had been installed on the ground floor windows, and by the looks of it, they were heading around the back with more panels.

“But why, and why now? And why the army? What about Jackie and Guy? Why would they get their house boarded up?”

Johnny said nothing, simply shook his head but he didn’t look at her. He concentrated on the scene down the road, frowning as he tried to work out what was happening.

“Maybe they’ve gone for a long holiday and they’re afraid of squatters?” She didn’t want to say what she really thought. One word filled her mind: plague.

“I don’t know,” Johnny said, shaking his head.

“But at three in the morning? Why?” Plague; the word came back, screamed in her head.

“I believe that is the question we need to be asking.”

She backed away from the window. For some reason she didn’t want to be seen by those army fellows. She didn’t want to be noticed at all. A shiver ran through her. “Come on, back to bed.”

“You think you’ll sleep?”

“I’ll certainly give it a try.”

They lay together for ages, holding hands and not saying a thing. Johnny slept before her, the deep sounds of his breathing putting her off even more. Long after the truck revved its engine and left the street, she remained conscious. One word filled her mind seemingly set on nightmarish repeat: plague.