Chris flinched as the soapy water missed his face and hit the girl he was carrying instead.

He turned around at the same time as Bobby demanded, "Get out!"

The bartender had taken one look at him carrying the sick girl into her building and fired on them without stopping to ask questions. He was probably just lucky that all she was shooting with was water, but it wasn't completely harmless, because it would chill the girl even more when he stepped outside again.

Even though he'd immediately turned away, he didn't exit the room right away. "She needs help. I need somewhere warm to take her, or enough money to get a room. And… I need help finding a job."

Mac was the only one who responded. He'd always been a reckless kid, and he immediately hopped off his stool and volunteered, "You can take her to my place."

Chris turned his head far enough to see that Mac was approaching him and he snapped, "Stay back Mac! She's really sick, and even if it's not the new virus, the old ones can be just as deadly to someone your age!"

Mac froze, and then glared.

Chris ignored the glare as he added, "I can't take her there unless you've got somewhere else you can go for a couple of weeks."

"You should be taking her to the hospital if it's that bad," Bobby stated coldly.

The girl in his arms spoke, which startled him so much that his own reply died unspoken. She'd seemed almost comatose, but apparently the change in environment and the angry voices had been enough to rouse her.

She announced raggedly, "I went there. They threw me out."

"Which hospital?" Mac asked.

She gave them the name that had once belonged to a Christian Saint, and a sturdy looking woman dressed in a bulky wool sweater said, "That's the good one. I heard in other countries they have to choose who to let die, but I didn't think it was that bad yet here."

"What about Urgent Care?" another patron asked.

"You got to have internet and do the mobile screening," Mac declared knowledgeably. "I've got internet at my place."

Everyone looked at the small elderly man with expressions of surprise, and he threw up his hands and said, "I've got grandkids! They like to keep me up to date!"

Even Bobby smiled, although Chris suspected that her reason wasn't the same as his. Mac had children, grandkids, family.

"I don't want you to risk your family," he told Mac seriously.

Mac rolled his eyes and stated firmly, "I live alone. If my wife, rest her soul, was still with me, I wouldn't have time to hang out here every evening. Always had a list waiting for me."

The others smiled or even chuckled, and the tense atmosphere receded a little. The girl in his arms struggled for a moment, and after he realized that she was just trying to peek over his shoulder, he lifted her higher. She rubbed her soggy rag against her face, and he briefly wished that handkerchiefs hadn't gone out of style.

"I'm sorry I never got to meet her," Chris said softly to Mac. "But I don't want to risk you either."

Mac ignored the second half of his words, and assured him, "You'd have liked her, probably gotten on like two peas." A wry grin showed off yellowing teeth as he added, "Probably just as well you weren't around back when we were courtin' though."

This time Chris was the one who rolled his eyes. Bobby looked at the girl peeking over his shoulder at Mac, and rubbed her forehead.

"Mac," Bobby called for his attention. Mac turned and raised an eyebrow. "I'll lend you a room if you want to lend your place out. But you keep your distance and don't catch anything, got it?"

"Mac never could catch anything anyway, couldn't stand sitting still," a man who was younger than Mac, but not young, announced laughingly.

Mac flipped him off, but told Bobby, "Deal."

Bobby just looked at Chris and added, "If you're not too proud to flip burgers, my niece told me her place is short staffed. But you still have to have a food handler's card, and if you don't have one," her gaze said that she was confident that he didn't, "I don't know if you can get one with everything being shut down."

"Thank you," Chris replied seriously. He would owe both her and Mac.

He walked back out of the bar, and the girl shivered and huddled against him, but he didn't stop until he was a dozen feet from the door. He called back without looking, "Where to Mac?"

Mac's voice was layered with emotions when he replied a little roughly, "Just go home." Chris turned to the right and started walking. "Some idiot paid up three whole years worth before he died, and left his stuff to me," Mac grumbled.

"That was over 70 years ago," Chris pointed out.

"I really thought you were dead," Mac growled back.

Chris bowed his head and met the sick girl's wide eyed gaze. "You're really not human are you?" she whispered, as another shiver wracked her body.

"I'm sorry," he answered them both regretfully.

--

Chris stopped when he reached the place that a small narrow house had once stood overlooking the river, and looked around uncertainly.

"It's the right place," Mac assured him as he strode past. An elderly looking apartment building squatted where six small, narrow, but much more elegant, brick houses had once stood.

Mac held the door for him, and then stepped around him in the narrow entry hall that didn't have enough room to keep the six foot rule.

"Is it yours?" Chris asked.

"The building?" Mac asked with a wry chuckle. "No, never could save up enough. Especially after the first kid came along. But I got us all a concession when they insisted on building it, locked it in tight enough that it's lasted through a dozen different owners."

"I see," Chris replied. There wasn't much he could say to that.

"Kids keep insisting I should move, and couldn't give them a good reason not to, couldn't even explain it to myself," Mac said conversationally as he led them to a dark wooden door on the first floor, unlocked it with an old fashioned key, and held it open.

Chris knew that the windows wouldn't have a view of anything but the street outside before he even stepped through the doorway. Even when he'd lived in the little house that had stood on this block, only the upper floor had looked out on the river. He didn't have to ask why Mac hadn't demanded an apartment on a higher floor though.

The place was spacious, with three doors on either side of the large room. A sunken living area, in a style that had been popular half a century ago took up half of the large space. It had enough room for a large family. More room than the small house had ever had.

"Maybe I was waiting for you," Mac suggested as he tossed his key on the counter. "I'll just pack a few things up and head back to the bar. Guest room's made up, but probably a mite dusty." He gestured toward one of the doors. "Make yourself at home."

"Mac," Chris protested.

"Want to do an old man a favor?" Mac asked.

"Of course!" Chris replied promptly.

Mac ran a hand and over his face before he turned around, but tears still shimmered in his eyes. "Make this your home. Stay. At least until…"

'Until you're gone.' Chris finished silently, but all he said was, "Okay."

Mac smiled brightly, and turned away again. "I don't have a landline anymore, but I'll get you a phone, and leave you that iPad thing my grandson got me for Christmas. It does video chat real nice."

"You have a tub?" Chris asked. If it had just been him, he might have argued against Mac's offered gifts, but the girl in his arms was too cold, and hadn't roused herself again yet.

Mac turned again and grinned at him. "Yup. You'll love it."

"I will if you've got enough hot water to fill it," Chris promised.