Chapter 11

Aboard The Canadian

"We have good news," Karl Bennett told Cal as he approached him from down the corridor. The doctor had finally changed out of his shirt and dress slacks. Into a polo t-shirt and khakis. Cal guessed that was an informal as he got. "Just came from the engineer's car. We have the go-ahead to pull into Sioux Lookout."

"The next stop?"

"Yes. The team they've assembled is almost ready there now. Once the train starts rolling we should be there in just over half an hour."

"About damn time."

"Also, there's been no new cases the past few hours," he added. "It doesn't sound like much but it's...good news."

"Gillian's sick," Cal corrected him. The fact that Bennett noted the lack of new cases as good news when his own wife was infected with something that had just killed two other passengers, made Cal think that maybe Gillian was right. That they weren't a couple. Or even friends.

Because from where he was standing, Cal couldn't care less about the lack of new cases right now.

"Since when?"

"After we left Bruce Ripley's cabin. I went to see her."

"I see..."

"She spent more time with me than she should have when I got sick," Cal told him. "She could have what I had, couldn't she?"

The doctor hesitated. "I think...it's unlikely."

"But possible?" Cal insisted. The doctor's face was hard to read. But maybe if he wasn't running on fumes and his eyes didn't feel like sandpaper, he'd have an easier time catching his micro-expressions.

"Sure. It's possible."

This time he had no trouble catching the lie. It was so blatantly obvious. Right down to the involuntary tightening of the lips. "You say that, but you don't believe it."

The doctor stuck out his chin. Defensive. "I say that because all the most recent cases we've had, have been...something more serious."

"All of them?" Cal shot back. "The only new case has been your wife! If the entire train had the flu, as you suggested, there's a chance Foster has the flu too, isn't it? Not necessarily some bloody Ebola-like hemorrhagic fever!"

"I said it's possible," the doctor hissed back. "What more do you want me to tell you?"

"The truth? You say one thing, your face says something else. How can you be sure about what my colleague doesn't have? Unless..." Cal took two steps towards Karl, so that he was only inches from the man's face. "Unless you know exactly what that first outbreak was. You know it wasn't the flu, don't you?"

Karl Bennett could feel Cal's breath on his face now. "You need to back off, Dr. Lightman. Get your paranoia and pseudo-science out of my face."

His irritation combined with his exhaustion and edginess instinctively made Cal want to send an uppercut to Karl's chiselled jaw. Sometimes, that really was the only way to get to the truth.

The doctor stood almost a full head taller than him and now that he wore only a t-shirt, it was easy to see that he was fit and muscular. Doctor Karl Bennett looked like he might be more familiar with five-hour workouts than Cal.

Not that it meant Cal couldn't take him in a fight. He wouldn't be the first guy bigger than him that he'd downed successfully. Fighting someone bigger than you was inevitable when you were his height. He was scrappy and had plenty of practice. But that practice also meant his gut usually knew when to back down.

He felt like this might be one of those times.

Cal swallowed, fighting back his rage. Wishing he had a release for it. "What are they going to do once we pull into Sioux Look-Out?"

A smug smile lifted the corners of the doctor's lips. "You decided against a good old fist fight?"

Cal smiled in return. "Don't make me change my mind."

The doctor lowered his shoulders, letting him know he had no plans to let anything escalate.

"From what we've been told, they're bringing those we suspect to have the VHF to the local airport to be airlifted to Winnipeg. There's a hospital there that's ready for them. All those who cared for these passengers, including you and I, will be airlifted there as well and quarantined and tested for at least forty-eight hours."

"And the rest?"

"All those who recovered from the initial outbreak and have no additional symptoms will stay here. On the train. Quarantined and monitored for the next 48 hours."

"I see," Cal rubbed the stubble on his chin.

"Cal..."

"Yeah..."

"I'm sorry about Gillian. She's been a huge help."

Cal guessed he wouldn't have elicited similar feelings of sympathies from him had he been struck by a deadly virus. "I bet." She'd always been the kinder, gentler half of the Lightman Group. That much hadn't changed.

"I'm going to check on Eleanor, to let her know what's going to happen," Karl told him, before marching out of his line of vision.

Later

Cal Lightman heard cheers coming from the cabins and corridors when the announcement was broadcast through the PA that the train was cleared to head for Sioux Lookout. The two VIA Rail attendants who had recovered had shut all the doors and made sure no stragglers were still smoking or wandering around outside. Had checked the passenger list and made sure everyone was accounted for.

And then, finally, the train started moving to what would now be its final destination.

He heard more faint cheers, from the cabins of passengers that had no idea that there were two dead bodies on the train.

"Ignorance is bliss," Cal mumbled aloud. He was standing outside her cabin now. He fumbled with the facemask and plastic gloves that were in his pocket. Bennett had insisted he put them on if he went back to see Gillian.

Except that putting them on would negate everything he'd told her earlier.

If Foster could believe that all she had was the flu, it meant she knew she'd recover. Knew that all she had to do was hang in there and bear it.

It was what he needed her to think.

He pictured Emily as his fingers toyed with the straps on his mask. His daughter deserved a father. Deserved having someone take endless, obnoxious photographs at her graduation and remind her how damn proud he was. She needed someone who wasn't going to take unnecessary risks.

Cal pulled the mask out and fastened it on his face, about to open the cabin door before he stopped himself.

Gillian was fighting for her life in there. This wasn't the time to chicken out. He owed her more than that really. But at the very least he owed her whatever weapons he could give her in this fight.

She'd have done the same for him.

Cal yanked the mask off and stuffed it back into his pocket, pulling open the cabin door before he had a chance to change his mind.

She was awake when he came in, perspiration lined her face and he was sure the t-shirt he'd given her earlier was soaked.

"Cal?"

"Hi, luv."

"Are we moving?"

"Yeah. Help is on the way. We'll be at the next stop in less than an hour. Then we're all getting airlifted to Winnipeg."

She looked confused and he wasn't sure how much of what he was saying she understood, given her sky-rocketing temperature.

"You need to change that shirt," he said softly, searching on the shelf for something of hers she could wear. He found an aquamarine v-neck shirt, with an elaborate design along its collar. He remembered her wearing it back at the Lightman Group. Remembered liking it then because it hung loosely on her shoulders and brought out the colour of her eyes.

Her eyes were glazed and red now. She groaned when he helped her sit up. And Cal had to make an effort not to react when he saw the rashes on her skin.

Not that he thought she would notice much of anything at the moment.

She leaned against him and pressed a palm against her forehead. Warmth radiated from her body.

"The headache is the worst, I know. Hang in there. It'll get worse and then it'll get better." He pulled out a napkin from his shirt pocket and rolled out two pills from it. "I got something for you. Something I stole from one of the recovering seniors on the train." Cal grabbed a bottle of water and made her swallow them. Made her drink as much as she could. "Word of advice. Old people have the good drugs. Not this over-the-counter crap."

"Thanks," she whispered.

It wouldn't help with the fever, but he hoped it would make her more comfortable.

He helped her lie back down and, afterwards, he sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned against the window, staring out at the landscape. The last rays of sunlight were sinking into the black, tree-top silhouette of the forest. Again, he'd lost all track of time and place.

Cal decided to stay here until they pulled into the station. Let Karl Bennett take care of his wife. Or whoever she was to him.

While trying to leaf through a magazine that was lying in her cabin, Gillian tossed and turned next to him.

Cal kept reading the same paragraph over, unable to digest a single sentence.

At one point, her hand reached out to grab his, startling him.

"Alec?" There was no hint of recognition in her face when she looked at him and her hand was impossibly warm in his.

"No, luv. Even better. Me."

"I kept your promise. I hated that you asked...but I want you to know. That I kept it."

Cal frowned. She was delirious now and he had no idea what she was talking about.

"I wanted you to know. If I'm coming to see you..."

"Oh no, you're not." He held on to her hand, cupping it in his. "You're not joining that plonker anytime soon."

A sense of urgency tightened the knot in his stomach and Cal wished the train would speed up.