CHAPTER 6

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.