12: Bad News

Saturday 26th September 1998

Lisa was concerned. Yesterday Jack had seemed unusually quiet and subdued, as he always did when he was worried about something. She'd asked him what was wrong, but he'd told her repeatedly that he was fine.

He never was much good at lying to me, she thought. No matter what he says, I know that something's bothering him. And I intend to find out what it is…

"Mom, I'm going out, okay?" Lisa called down the stairs, but then she remembered that her parents weren't home. In fact, she hadn't seen them at all in three days; they'd been sleeping at work recently, ordering pizzas whenever they were hungry. Whatever was happening at work, it was obviously very important if they had to spend all their time there.

Lisa sighed. Her relationship with her parents wasn't ideal – far from it – but despite all the arguments and misunderstanding, she missed them terribly.

She went downstairs and into the kitchen, glancing at the clock in the hallway as she passed. It was coming up to seven o'clock, so she'd probably be breaking curfew by the time she got to downtown, but she didn't really care. She had to find out what was wrong with Jack.

Lisa donned a coat – it was getting cold outside - and picked up the front door key on her way out of the house. She locked the front door, pocketed the key, and hurried out into the street.

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Jack awoke with a jolt. He hadn't even realised that he was tired, and yet here he was, lying on the couch in the living room, surrounded by empty beer bottles. The television was still on, showing an old talk-show episode. Why had he been watching television in the first place?

He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember anything, except the one thing he'd been trying to forget – his aunt was in hospital, infected with the incurable mystery virus, and she was probably going to die.

"Ohhh, God," he groaned. Wasn't drinking supposed to make you forget stuff? Well, he'd drunk five bottles of Budweiser and it hadn't worked; all it had done was give him a raging headache.

He debated whether to get up and find some painkillers for the headache, or to try to sleep it off. After trying and failing to sit up, the pain forcing him to lie down again, he decided that sleeping was the better option.

Jack turned over, and was just about to go back to sleep when someone knocked at the door downstairs.

"Go away," he called, wincing slightly – it hurt to talk.

"Jack? It's me, Lisa!"

Jack sat bolt upright, and looked around him. The room was a mess; littered with empty bottles and cans, and clothes from two days ago.

"Hell, what a mess!" he exclaimed, and tried to clear up the worst of the debris. He pulled on a clean shirt, went downstairs, and answered the door.

"Jack?" said Lisa, looking startled. "My God, you look awful! Are you all right?"

Jack nodded, and then wished he hadn't as his head began to throb. Talking was painful, but nodding was sheer agony.

"Hung over," he muttered.

"Serves you right for drinking so much," said Lisa matter-of-factly.

"'S'all right for you," Jack said bitterly. "It ain't you aunt who be in hospital."

"Your aunt's in hospital?" said Lisa, surprised. "Is she okay?"

"No," said Jack.

"What's wrong with her?" Lisa asked, and then it struck her. "Oh no," she gasped. "She isn't – she's not infected, is she?"

"Yeah," said Jack, swallowing hard. "She be infected."

He gestured for Lisa to come inside, and she followed him up the stairs and into the apartment. They both sat down on the couch. Lisa tried to ignore the mess as best she could.

"So when did you find out she was sick?" said Lisa.

"Thursday," said Jack. "Just after I get home."

"And there's no cure, is there?" said Lisa.

"No," said Jack miserably. "There ain't no cure. She prob'ly gonna die, Lise. An' there be nothin' I can do 'bout it. I dunt know what to do, Lise. I be scared. I dunt want to lose my aunt as well as my mama!"

Seeing her friend so upset was distressing to say the very least, and Lisa wished with all her heart that there was something she could say or do to make everything all right again. But she knew there was nothing, nothing at all, that could help Aunt Rosa. Jack was right – she was probably going to die. And knowing this made Lisa feel even worse.

"About Thursday," said Lisa, hurriedly changing the subject. "What were you going to ask me?"

Jack gulped. Why, oh why did she have to ask that question now?

"Well," he floundered. "Uh, I just wanna know if maybe you - "

"Yes?" said Lisa, wondering what it was that he was finding so difficult to ask.

"Would you - "

And then the phone rang. Frustrated, disappointed, cursing heaven and earth and the caller and the phone company, Jack got up and answered the phone.

"Hola," he said. "Jack Carpenter here."

"Hello, Mr Carpenter," said the caller. "This is Raccoon City General Hospital. It's about your aunt, Rosa Jemez? I'm afraid we have some bad news."

Jack's heart sank into what felt like an endless black hole.

"What is it?" he said anxiously.

"As you've probably guessed, your aunt was infected with the mystery virus," began the woman from the hospital. "Although we did our best to help her, she didn't respond to her treatment, and medication had no visible effect. We did everything we could, but then her condition deteriorated sharply, and – well, I'm afraid she passed away a few minutes ago."

"Oh, no," Jack breathed. "Oh, God, no…"

"I'm really sorry," the woman continued. "This must be a terrible shock. It's never easy, receiving bad news. If you'd like to talk to one of our bereavement counsellors, then - "

She got no further; Jack had already put the phone down.

"Who was it?" said Lisa.

Jack stared into space for a moment, white-faced and wide-eyed. Then he closed his eyes. He took a long, deep, shuddering breath, and closed his eyes even tighter. Very slowly, he sat down on the floor.

"Jack?" said Lisa. "Are you okay?"

He looked up at her, and to Lisa's alarm he burst into tears.

"Jack! Jack, what is it?" she gasped. "What's wrong?"

"It be the hospital," said Jack faintly, wiping his eyes. "They tell me my aunt – my aunt – oh, Lise!"

Sobbing, he buried his head in his hands. Lisa knelt down next to him, and put her arm around his shaking shoulders.

"She didn't make it, did she?" said Lisa quietly.

Jack shook his head. "She die a few minutes ago," he said shakily. "An' now I be all alone. No mama. No dad. No even my aunt Rosa. They all gone, Lise. I got nobody."

A tear trickled down his cheek.

"An' now my aunt be dead, she no around to pay the rent, an' I no can pay it, so they gonna turf me out, Lise. But I got nowhere to go! What'm I gonna do?" he sobbed.

Lisa put her arms around him and held him tightly as he wept, ignoring the tears soaking through the shoulder of her T-shirt. All she could think about was Jack – what would happen to him now?

"What'm I gonna do?" Jack whispered, over and over again.

"I don't know," said Lisa. "I just don't know."

They sat there for what seemed like forever. As Jack sobbed uncontrollably into her shoulder, Lisa stroked his hair and murmured:

"It's okay, Jack. It's okay."

It wasn't, of course – she knew that only too well. He'd just lost his family, his home, and what little love and security he had; another major blow in a life already touched by tragedy. But she didn't know what else to say.

"Thank you," said Jack eventually, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

"For what?" said Lisa.

"For bein' here."

"That's all right. But I'd better go now, Jack. It's almost dark, and I need to get home. I'll come and see you again in the morning."

"Dunt go," Jack begged her, clutching her arm. "Please, dunt leave me!"

Lisa saw the look in his eyes – pleading, with a flicker of fear – and changed her mind about leaving. She couldn't bring herself to leave him now, when he needed her. The thought of Jack sitting in the cold, dark apartment, alone and afraid, was simply unbearable.

"All right, I'll stay," she promised.

Relief washed over Jack's tear-stained face.

"Thank you," he said gratefully. "B'sides, it be gettin' dark. It ain't safe for you to be out alone. You better stay here till morning."

"No problem. I'll sleep on the couch," said Lisa.