The Journal: Fault Line (The Journal Book 5) (15 page)

The driver offered his hand and Trevor shook
it. “Thank you, sir. See you next delivery and I’ll be sure to
remember to come in the back way.” He covered his mouth and
coughed.

Back inside, Trevor pulled the shades down
over the still dusty windows, making sure the front door was locked
and the security gate was in place. He stood in the center of the
store, hands on his narrow hips, head down.

Christine came up behind him and wrapped her
arms around him, resting her head against his back, not saying a
word. He straightened his shoulders and let out a deep sigh. “It is
what it is. I have no choice and they have no choice. Come on,
let’s get things on the shelves. I want to open the doors in two
days. I had hoped to open tomorrow, but it will take me an extra
day to figure out the new prices.”

***

The delivery driver pulled off on the side of
the highway. He was coughing hard, and unable to see the road. He
took a sip of water when the spasms stopped, his forehead now damp
with sweat. Knowing he still had two more deliveries to make, he
chugged down some daytime cold medicine. When the deliveries were
done, he’d find a rest stop and get some sleep.

“You’re price gouging us!
You know we can’t pay these prices!” a man yelled at Trevor.

“Andy, my supplier doubled the prices on
everything, and the trucking firm tripled the delivery fee. What
would you have me do? Give it to you at cost?” Trevor had never
argued with a customer before.

“That would be a good start,” Andy said.

“Would you go to work every day, work for
eight hours, and go home without even gas money? You don’t have to
answer that, Andy, I know you wouldn’t. I have to make a living
too, and for me to do that, I have to make a profit.”

“Can you prove they’re charging you more?”
Andy sneered.

“Sure I can, but I’m not going to,” Trevor
said, his voice even. “I don’t have to justify anything to you or
anyone else. Now,” he lowered and softened his voice, “do you want
this food or not?”

Andy dropped some bills on the counter, took
his few cans of soup and stew, and then left, grumbling
incoherently all the way out.

Christine came to the counter after Andy
left. “I see what you mean about people not liking the new prices.
You don’t have any choice, Trevor, I know that, and I think you
handled that man perfectly.” She smiled at him. “I should finish
washing these windows.”

The door chimed, letting them know someone
had come in. Christine turned in time to see her former boss, Mary
Jane, head down an aisle.

“Trevor, you know that the dental office I
used to work at is across the street, right? That’s my former boss
over by the coolers,” Christine said. “My first reaction is to hide
in the back until she’s gone. After seeing how well you dealt with
the last person, I think I’ll stay. Might as well get that first
confrontation over with, right?”

Trevor grinned. “That’s my girl!”

Mary Jane set the six-pack of water on the
counter, along with four cans of cream of mushroom soup and two
cans of mushrooms. Then she looked up to see Christine behind the
counter, and she smirked.

“I see you’ve found a job more to your skill
level,” she jabbed. “I guess you’ll come off our unemployment
now.”

“That was very unkind of you, Mary Jane, but
I forgive you. And I’m not working here,” Christine said sweetly.
“I’m just visiting my fiancé.”

Trevor started ringing up the items on the
counter, his expression neutral. He gave her the total.

“What? That can’t be right. I’ve been getting
the same items every week and have never paid more than ten
dollars!” Mary Jane exclaimed. “Twenty dollars has got to be
wrong.”

Trevor looked over the items and said,
“You’re right, that’s the wrong total. It’s twenty
two
dollars; I forgot the new shipping surcharge. And you haven’t
gotten these same items every week
here
, ma’am, because I’ve
been closed since the earthquake.”

Mary Jane took the money from her wallet and
paid for her items. Trevor handed her the change and she left
without saying another word.

Once the door closed, Christine giggled. “The
new shipping surcharge?”

“She deserved it for treating you so badly,”
Trevor replied. “What a witch. How did you tolerate her for so
long?” He grabbed a tissue and sneezed.

***

The delivery driver had given Trevor a flu
virus, who in turn gave it to ten customers. Mary Jane gave it to
the entire dental staff and twelve patients. It got worse from
there.

***

“I feel horrible,” Trevor said, struggling to
sit up in bed. “Can you open the store today?”

“I could, but I’m not going to. I’m staying
here to take care of you,” Christine said. “The town is used to the
store being closed, and we’re only open from noon until six now
anyway, so another day or two won’t matter.” She sat on the edge of
the bed and fed Trevor chicken noodle soup. When he fell asleep
again, she called Doc Adams.

“There’s not much I can do for you, son. Half
the town is down with this new flu and my resources are limited,”
Doc Adams said to Trevor, putting his stethoscope back in his
pocket. He handed Christine a box of face masks, a box of surgical
gloves, and a bottle of pills. “The pills are antihistamines but
keeping him elevated in a semi-seated position will help more to
keep his lungs clear. And you,” he said to Christine, “never come
in here without a mask and gloves.”

***

“How’s he doing?” Chief Mallory asked
Christine. When he saw the store closed for a second day due to
illness, he’d stopped to see them at home.

“There doesn’t seem to be any change, which
Doc Adams thinks is a good sign,” Christine answered.

“It is,” Marty replied. “I’m sure the doc
didn’t want to alarm you, but there have already been four deaths
from this flu. Two elderly men, an asthmatic, and sadly, an infant.
All of them had weak or compromised immune systems to begin with.
How are
you
feeling?”

“Just tired, thanks,” she said. “I’m not
getting much rest. I catch a nap here and there, but most of my
time is taking care of Trev. I can’t lose him Marty, I just can’t!”
Her lower lip quivered.

“The best thing you can do for him is to stay
healthy yourself,” he said. “I’ve known Trevor for many years. I’ve
seen him focused, I’ve seen him driven, but I’ve never seen him as
happy as he’s been since you came into his life. He would never
forgive himself if you caught this flu from him. Have you eaten
today?”

“Yeah, when I heat up some soup, I give
Trevor the broth and I eat the noodles. We’re both getting tired of
chicken soup!” she laughed.

“I need to go and do rounds. Most of my men
are out sick too.” Marty stood to leave. “Marion is going to stop
by later.”

***

The knock on the front door woke Christine
from her restless sleep. She dragged herself to the door and almost
opened it without looking.

“Hi, Marion, come on in,” Christine said.
“Marty said you would be by. What’s up?”

“I brought you some real chicken soup,” she
smiled, “One with herbs that might help Trevor.” She set the pot on
the stove. “Have you ever cooked with herbs?”

“I haven’t cooked with much of anything, to
be honest. I’ve always just picked up something on my way home from
work. And when my dad is here, we always go out.”

“There are many culinary herbs that are also
medicinal,” Marion said. “Now don’t be telling Doc Adams about
this, he’ll just call me a witch-doctor or something equally
snarky.” She set a bag by the sink and removed a bouquet of
leaves.

“What’s that?”

“This is sage, it’s often used as a poultry
herb. The oils in the leaves also help reduce the swelling of the
mucous membranes in the nose and throat, and it’s why chicken soup
is good for colds.”

Christine picked up the bundle and sniffed
it. “It doesn’t smell good, kind of musty,” she wrinkled her nose,
and Marion laughed.

“Well, the tea we’re going to make for Trevor
might not taste good either, but with enough honey, he should be
able to get it down.” She set the kettle on to boil. “And these are
for you.” She handed Christine a bottle.

“Garlic?” Christine said curiously.

“During World War One, the soldiers carried
garlic. It was considered the poor man’s penicillin. It’s a natural
antibiotic and antiviral. Doc Adams doesn’t believe in vitamins
either. If he can’t write a prescription for it, he feels it’s
worthless. He forgets that most of our medicines are plant
based.”

Christine set the bottle down.

“Dear, I don’t know if this will help keep
you from getting sick, but it certainly isn’t going to hurt you to
try. That young man in the other room
needs
you. And he
needs you to be well. Take two twice a day, and if you can get him
to take some, all the better.” Marion finished making the tea,
adding a spoonful of honey to the cup. “See if he’ll drink this
while I warm up the soup.”

Christine pulled the mask up over her nose
and mouth and opened the bedroom door. She set the cup on the night
stand and felt Trevor’s forehead. It still felt warm. He opened his
eyes and she smiled at him.

“Hi. I brought you some tea.” She helped him
sit up and lifted the cup to his lips.

“Mmm, that tastes good, and it feels good on
my throat. What is it?” Trevor asked, closing his eyes again.

“Some concoction Marion made. She also
brought you some real chicken soup, instead of canned. Are you
hungry?”

“Not really, but I’ll try to get some down,”
he answered, and quickly drifted back to sleep.

***

Christine wrapped a blanket around her
shoulders and settled on the couch to watch the news.

“…
for Disease Control has confirmed
outbreaks of a strong flu-like virus in Ohio, Michigan, and
Colorado. The director of the CDC is urging everyone to stay home
if you aren’t feeling well, cover your mouth when you cough, and
drink plenty of fluids
,” the announcer said.

“Ohio, Michigan and Colorado? What about
Indiana?” Christine said aloud.

***

Marion’s soup was good. Really good,
Christine thought, however it wouldn’t last more than one day and
she wanted to save it for Trevor. She let herself into the garage
and started restacking the food boxes by category. Vegetables went
in one pile, ready to eat meals in another, and soup went into the
house. It startled her how little soup was left and she knew Trevor
needed more clear soups instead of the creamy ones they had in
abundance.

“Trevor, I need to go to the Main Street
store for more soup,” she told him when he woke again. “What’s the
code for the door?” He was quiet for so long she thought he had
fallen back to sleep.

“Six numbers,” he mumbled. “One, three,
seven, eight, six…” and he was out again.

***

Christine parked her cruiser behind the
store, and made sure no one was watching her before she got out of
the car. She stood staring at the keypad, thinking. She had only
five of the required six numbers, but there had to be a logical
sequence to the numbers and if she could figure it out she would
have the final code. She sat back in her car with paper and pen and
wrote the numbers down, then wrote them in two lines, even numbers
on one line, odd on the next, and circled the known numbers. She
saw the pattern and quickly went back to the keypad and punched in
one, three, seven, eight, six, and two. The red light winked out,
the green light came on, and she opened the door.

Inside, she took one of the smaller green
plastic hand baskets and filled it with chicken noodle soup, boxes
of bouillon, and beef barley soup. She also took two loaves of
bread, a box of green tea, and a little plastic bear filled with
honey. After heading toward the exit, she went back for a box of
dog bone treats.

She opened the back door cautiously, looking
carefully before stepping out into the afternoon mist, and bumped
into Chief Mallory.

“Oh, it’s just you,” Marty said. “I was
driving by and saw movement in the store and thought I’d better
check it out.” He looked down at the basket filled with food.
“How’s Trevor doing?”

“No change,” Christine answered. “I ran out
of clear soup to feed him. I actually feel guilty taking this, even
though I know it belongs to Trevor.”

“Yes, it
is
his. You do what you need
to do to get him well again.”

“Marty, I was going to give this to Marion
when she came by next. Would you take it to her please?” Christine
handed Marty a loaf of Italian bread. “I enjoy her visits, but I
don’t like exposing her to this flu.”

“I’ll be happy to, Christine. You get on home
now.” He pulled the door shut for her and the red light came on to
indicate the door was once again locked and secure.

“I’m definitely feeling
better, Doc,” Trevor said while Doc Adams listened to his
breathing.

“I’d give it one more day of rest just to be
on the safe side. You’ve recovered in one week while others that
caught this are still sick,” the doctor said, putting his
stethoscope away.

“Marty said there have been a few deaths,”
Christine remarked. “It must have been really bad.”

Doc Adams looked down for a moment before
answering. “Where there was a concentration of people it was worse.
At the school, where the quake victims were housed… only a few
survived. It swept through there at incredible speed.”