It wasn't far to Pat's apartment. The APC's were working and the ache
in my head had gone, replaced by a soreness over the actual bruise.
I drove slowly, reluctant to part with her now, to lose the sense of
closeness we shared. Elation over our night's work, mixed with sadness
for the future, had combined to bring us together more than we had ever
been before. She said nothing, but her nearness to me and the hand
laid gently on my leg were evidence enough of her feelings. At the
stoplights I glanced at her, trying to gauge her thoughts. Her gaze was
fixed on some nebulous point beyond the windshield; her face was still,
frozen in its expression, almost as if she were a wax model.
Burrard bridge went by and I turned to the left, down a side street.
The car rolled to a stop in front of a large modern apartment building.
I shut off the engine, got out, and opened the car door for her. We
walked up the steps together. She reached in her bag for the key.
"Don't bother coming back to the lab today," I said, turning to go.
"Hallam can take care of it this morning and I'll go back later this
afternoon and give him a hand."
She looked up in surprise. "You're having breakfast with me." It was
not a question but a statement of fact.
"You're too tired, baby," I protested, but feebly. I hated cooking for
myself and she knew it.
"I am a little tired," she admitted as she opened the door, "but bacon
and eggs will pep us up. I want to talk to you."
Pat's apartment, a bachelor suite on the fourth floor, consisted of a
bed-sitting room partly divided by an ornamental screen, a kitchenette
and bathroom. Off the sitting room area, a tiny balcony with french
doors overlooked English Bay. I strolled over to see the view. The fog
was still hanging in patches to the shoreline but above the cottony
masses it was a beautiful day and the mountains across Howe Sound
sparkled icy white and blue in the distance. I felt a lift looking at
them. Pat had removed her raincoat and hat. Now she turned from putting
them in the closet to look critically at me, hands on her hips.
"Go take a shower and change clothes while I'm cooking breakfast," she
said. "You look scruffy after that judo exhibition. Besides, I want to
kiss you and you need a shave and you're covered with virus."
I came back, more comfortable in a clean shirt and slacks I'd left
there on a previous occasion. She was sitting at the small dining
table, looking over the morning paper. As I watched her read,
concentrating on the epidemic story, I examined that kissable mouth,
the strong straight nose, the thoughtful eyes. She wasn't the most
beautiful woman I'd known but she was loyal, intelligent and good,
clear through. Somewhere deep inside, a small ache began and grew.
I hadn't thought much about marriage as we had agreed to let our
friendship ripen into something better, if it wanted to. Now, as I
watched her there, waiting for breakfast with me, I knew I was tired of
our present relationship. It wasn't enough that she was my friend and,
on one recent occasion, my mistress. I wanted her for a wife.
I was wondering how a childless marriage would work out when she looked
up.
"Breakfast's ready any time you are," she said softly.
I went to her and raised her up. Then, slowly, without passion, I
kissed her full on the lips. Her eyes were wide open and once more I
saw the tears coming.
"John, don't ... not now!" she whispered and turned away to start
rattling around with the plates and the eggs and bacon.
We sat near the window over our coffee and cigarettes, looking out at
the blue sky and scudding white clouds. The wind had dissipated the
water vapor so that no wisp of fog was left. The little waves in the
bay tumbled and sparkled in the light and a small tug burst through
them importantly, steaming along like a short fat woman heading for the
bargain counter.
"It's so beautiful, so peaceful out there," Pat murmured. "I can't
believe we're in the middle of the greatest war in history."
"Well, if the number of casualties is any indication, it makes even
atomic warfare look mild by comparison."
We had heard the news as we ate. The situation in Asia was rapidly
approaching the catastrophic. In fact it was probably beyond redemption
already in China, since the normal news channels had collapsed. All
India was in a state of panic with hordes of people fleeing in any
direction that seemed to promise escape. Southeast Asia was in an
uproar, with riots and revolutions as reports of the inexorable advance
of the measlepox filtered down to the people. In Africa, Egypt was
already in the grip of the fatal disease. It was, as Pat said, not
at all surprising, since Soviet technicians and supplies had been
the mainstay of the country ever since the United Arab Republic was
formed. The great desert barriers of Soudan and French Africa were
holding temporarily, but it was merely a question of time before some
poor devil, his fevered brain seeking escape, blundered to the forests
of the Congo or the Cameroons, to the high country of Ethiopia and
Kenya, and set fire to the rest of the continent. Only South America
and Australasia were still normal, if one could call normal the state
of total mobilization and preparedness that was being ordered in
practically every land which had sea or air contacts with the rest of
the world.
* * * * *
In North America there was no measlepox. All the major cities of the
east were reporting hundreds of thousands of cases of flu and it was
rapidly spreading to the southern and inland areas.
"They must have had agents on the East Coast too!" Pat said as she
listened to the announcer enumerating the cities and the estimated
numbers of sick.
"I imagine so ... a lot of them," I said. "Some of the spread must be
due to natural infection too. There wouldn't be enough agents, and they
couldn't carry enough virus to do all this."
"How do you think they got started over there?" Pat said. "They don't
have the handy excuse of a fishing fleet, do they?"
"No, they don't. I imagine they use submarines especially equipped with
tanks full of virus solution, or perhaps crystals, which could be mixed
and loaded into aerosol bombs as required."
"But you said submarines might make our government suspicious."
"I did, but that was when the epidemic first started out here. It has
been going on for some time now, in the west, and if you'll remember
the broadcast, there were cases reported in Detroit, Chicago and St.
Louis about the same time as in the coastal cities of the east. People
will naturally think it has spread overland by air travel or train and
won't be too concerned with what shipping is out in the Atlantic. The
Red Fleet has been maneuvering frequently off Newfoundland for the past
six or seven years so it shouldn't cause too much comment."
"If only they knew what was really happening to them!"
"I imagine the U.S. and Canadian governments do have our reports by
now but they'll have to watch how the news is released. If they're not
careful there could be a panic, with people evacuating the cities and
spreading the disease. It takes time to organize police and military
units for quarantine guards."
"How bad is it likely to be?" she asked.
"That's hard to say. The 1918 flu killed twenty million people and
attacked about fifty times that number. Since then, ordinary flu
epidemics have been reported with up to fifty percent of the people
involved. The Asian flu of 1957 affected up to seventy-five percent
in some areas. But this stuff isn't pure flu and so there may be
absolutely no immunity. Probably the only thing that will prevent
people from getting it is not to be near someone else who has it. In
the old days that was possible, but with the population we have now,
and the rapid communication between towns, it is much easier to spread
an epidemic than it was fifty years ago. My guess is that eighty or
ninety percent of the population will get it."
"John," Pat said thoughtfully, "How long is it likely to be before you
start having symptoms?"
"You mean all of us, don't you?" I said. "After all, that spray must
have splashed a bit and both you and the Chief may have got enough to
infect you."
"Well, yes, if you put it that way."
"Oh, about four days," I guessed, "or, perhaps a day more or less. We
aren't quite sure of the incubation period yet, and there's always a
chance of a mutation with a shorter period if a synthetic virus is
liable. We don't know that either."
"It's practically certain you'll be sterile, isn't it?"
"I'm afraid so," I said ruefully.
"What about convalescent serum, wouldn't it help?" she asked hopefully.
"If I got a big enough and strong enough dose, it might. There isn't
any ready yet. I asked Hallam just before we left this morning. If it
isn't injected early it may modify the disease but probably wouldn't
prevent it completely. I might still be sterile. It doesn't always work
anyway."
"What about me?"
"Last night, before I went to bed, Dr. Hallam got a report that very
few women had shown symptoms of sex gland involvement. The biopsies
taken by Bruce Thompson from the ovaries of women who have had the flu
showed only minor changes that Smith could detect. That isn't absolute
proof that everything is all right, of course. It will take time to
find that out."
"What about miscarriages in infected women," she persisted.
"They checked that out too. There have been occasional cases, but no
more than you are likely to see with any heavy fever. That ferret may
have been an exception. Perhaps it's a peculiarity of the ferret's
reaction to the virus. It may prove to be a rare complication in
people. Of course we don't know yet if the children of infected mothers
will be born deformed in any way, as they often are in German measles.
This virus may have no such power."
"Well, that's a chance I'll have to take," she said.
"What do you mean?" I queried. "You'll likely have the flu by next week
and you don't even know if you're pregnant yet. You couldn't possibly
tell so soon."
"I know that--and that's the reason I wanted to talk to you.
"You and I have been letting things ride along for some time now. I've
enjoyed it and I have no regrets. But it's time to stop; to make up our
minds." She looked straight at me. "Do you love me enough to marry me?"
I got up and went to her. I put my arms around her and this time my
kiss was not quiet.
"Silly question," I whispered against her cheek. "I was getting tired
of being just the boy friend. We'll go and get the license right now.
We can get married as soon as the three day waiting period is over."
She looked up at me and said, "You wait here. I'll be ready in a
minute."
I sat down and lit another cigarette. Three puffs later I heard her
speak behind me.
"I'm ready, John."
I looked around and came to my feet with a gasp. Then I took her into
my arms.
"Pat ... my Pat! God, but you're lovely!" I smoothed back her hair and
tilted her face to see her. "Darling, why are you doing this?"
"This is our wedding day, John. If we wait for a legal marriage it will
be too late ... you'll probably have the flu. I slept with you on the
boat because I wanted your child and I was afraid of the flu. Now I'm
sure you'll get it. This is our last chance." She moved away from me
and took my hand.
Later, as we lay quietly together, I said teasingly, "What's it going
to be? Boy or girl?"
"I really don't care. I only hope he'll have a few playmates to keep
him company. An only child in a family is bad enough. I don't want him
to be lonely."
I pulled her over to me and held her tightly. Her tears were warm
against my neck.