by Jack Hunt
“The couch is fine,” Josh replied before taking another sip. “I’ve slept in worse places.” He felt uncomfortable. Awkward even after what he’d said. Ryan sat down across from him. The memories of his father were so few that he just felt like a stranger. Josh closed his eyes.
Ryan leaned forward, hands clasped together.
“Your mother meant a lot to me. I don’t expect you to understand or accept my version of the events, but I hope you’ll give me a chance to explain over the coming days.”
“If we live that long.”
“Right.” Ryan chuckled. “Who taught you to fire a gun?”
“I taught myself.”
He nodded. “Is it yours?”
“No. It was mom’s.”
The tension in the room was thick.
“Look, I know Lily means a lot to you, Josh. And I can appreciate you wanting to do right by her and under any normal conditions I might have been inclined to let you take her but what’s happening out there right now is something far greater than what is happening here, between you and me. She needs more than you. If you had died out there tonight. What would she have done? Or better question, if she’d died, what would you have done?”
He let him ponder.
“We can’t always do everything on our own, Josh. Sometimes we need a little help.”
“Who taught you that, the AA meetings?”
“A little. Mostly I taught myself,” he said, throwing his own words back at him.
Josh allowed a smile to form.
Ryan took a deep breath.
“Well, I should turn in. It’s been one hell of a day. I’ll get you a blanket and pillow.”
“I’m fine.”
“Just in case.”
He came back with the bedding and set it on the couch.
“In the morning we’ll head out after breakfast. It’s a long journey.”
Josh nodded, not looking at him. As Ryan went to walk away, Josh asked, “About the room. Why didn’t I get to see it?”
He let out a breath. “It’s complicated. I needed to prove to the court that I didn’t have a drinking problem. I was eager to see you. I did everything I could to see you. But in Texas, they always work in the best interest of the child when it comes to custody and access. I wanted you here, Josh, I did, but I wasn’t ready. I just wasn’t ready.”
“The problem with drinking, did it start before or after the sexual assault?”
“You mean the allegation?” He paused to make it clear that was all it was. “After,” Ryan said. His father crossed the room and dug into a wood armoire and fished out a blue folder. He handed it to Josh but he didn’t take it. “Everything you need to know about the case, the allegations and charges that I was eventually cleared of years later, can be found in there. Read it, or not. I don’t care, anymore.” He tossed it beside him and walked out of the room. “Sleep well.”
Josh heard his bedroom door close, and Josh sat in the silence, staring at the folder.
He’d only ever seen the allegations, the early stages of the charges brought against him. He never revisited or looked up his father except to see if he was on social media when he was fifteen. Josh got up and went to the window and looked out. It was pitch black outside. He returned to the sofa and laid on top of the cover. For a moment he thought about all that had occurred that evening. How close they had come to dying.
The thought of what other dangers they would encounter lingered in his mind as he picked up the folder, flipped it open, turned on a small lamp, and began reading.
Chapter Nine
July 6
Newton, Texas, felt more like a town than a city.
A speck on the map with just over two thousand people, it existed roughly twenty minutes southeast of Jasper. It had been a long time since Ryan had been welcome there. Thanksgiving. Golden leaves. Turkey. Laughter. Warm hugs. Gratitude. A real sense of family. That had always been his experience. But not the last time.
The last time was cold, distant, full of accusing eyes. The warm yearly event that at one time drew together a close-knit family was destroyed after he was thrown under the bus by a student. That was the thing about accusations. It didn’t matter if someone was innocent or not. Once the rumor mill was in motion, any attempt at explaining only fell on deaf ears. He recalled the way his brother looked at him. It was different after that day. There were words of support, and what might even be considered empathy, but the eyes didn’t lie. Somewhere in the back of their minds, they were all asking the same question.
Did he really do it?
He saw that same look in Josh’s eyes. It was unmistakable.
How times had changed.
But that was the fall season. They were now in the height of summer when the temperature rarely dipped below the 80-degree mark. His brother ran a motel and RV park on the outskirts of town set back from Highway 190. He couldn’t leave without letting him know about the option of safety in the south.
Few words were exchanged the next day. Ryan saw the folder lying open on the floor next to the sofa. They’d packed up the truck early that morning with supplies, enough to last a few days. Ryan drove. Lily slept. Josh stared absently out the passenger window.
It was a short drive and made easy by the lack of traffic on the road. Homes they passed were quiet. Many boarded up. Some spray-painted with the word INFECTED. The few people on the street moved with purpose, not lingering. Strip malls were empty. Storefronts had boarded-up windows. With the pathogen in full swing, few ventured out, the brave ones that did carried a rifle or a handgun. Fortunately, he hadn’t run into any trouble until the previous night. He’d seen the two strangers from afar and watched them enter the barn. Witnessed them trying to harm his kids. Whether they were infected or simply looking to take advantage of a teenager and a young girl traveling alone, he’d had no other choice than to put them down.
He hadn’t slept much that night. His mind kept going back to that split-second decision to shoot them. They never saw it coming. It wasn’t guilt he felt, as they gave him no other choice. It was something else. Disappointment? His humanity, perhaps? His mind was reeling from an act that wasn’t an everyday occurrence. They were the first lives he’d taken. It would stay with him for some time. He couldn’t shake the feeling that came with their death.
“Why are we stopping here?” Josh asked.
“To see your Uncle Tommy. You probably don’t remember him.”
They passed several vehicles that looked as if they’d been in a head-on collision. The doors were open. Attacks on strangers were becoming more frequent by the day as desperation set in among the afflicted to spread and stop the aging. They would do whatever it took to rid themselves of the pathogen. Kill anyone who got in the way. Josh touched the radio’s scanner button, searching for updates on the situation, potentially hazardous areas to avoid.
In the first week, people were calling into radio stations and keeping them abreast of the situation but that had slowed to a crawl. Hospitals were turned into quarantine zones and funeral parlors were no longer offering service. They couldn’t. Fear of contracting the unknown pathogen was warranted.
Static came out of the speakers this time.
“It’s getting worse,” he said, turning it off.
“Uncle Tommy. Does he have kids?” Josh asked.
“Many, they just don’t live with him.”
“Was he busted too?”
“No, Josh. He’s just had several failed relationships.”
“Sounds like it runs in the family,” Josh added, looking out the window. Ryan wasn’t sure how to respond. Navigating the teenage years was something parents gradually eased into, like moving out of the shallow into the deep end of a pool. By the time you got there, you might have felt like you were kicking water more than before, but you learned to adapt.
This, on the other hand, was akin to being dropped headfirst into a wild ocean.
Birds wheeled overhead, some diving down to search fo
r roadkill.
Thick green trees and brush framed the sides of the highway like impenetrable walls before opening up to wide-open farmland until he saw the familiar blue sign: Willow Springs Motel and RV Park.
Ryan turned left into the lot, pulling up outside the office. To the right were newer suites. Farther down from the office were the main lodgings. All the rooms of the motel were ground level, with a log cabin exterior and green metal roofing. There were several RVs parked nearby. Like most of the landscape since the event, plants, bushes, and lawns had overgrown. Weeds dominated.
“You tight with him?” Josh asked.
“We were.”
“Seems like a big risk we’re taking.”
“He’s family. We look out for each other.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” he replied, looking out the window.
“Yes you would,” Ryan added, glancing at Lily.
There was silence.
“And what if he has the aging?”
“That’s why you’re going to stay in the vehicle. If anything happens, you get the hell out.”
He let the truck idle in front of the office and got out, taking his rifle with him. The building looked like an old Western saloon with a wood porch and tall posts holding up the extended roofing. It had wood paneling and a black metal roof. A rugged metal star set between two large lights was the central point. A few white Adirondack chairs were out front. A blue and white sign read: POOL For use by residents & guests only. Below that was a red mailbox where guests could drop off their keys. A small wind chime jangled. A garbage can nearby looked as if it hadn’t been emptied in weeks. Wasps were buzzing around it. He scanned the area. It was deserted. There was a white pickup out front that belonged to Tommy. Ryan went to the window of the office, cupped a hand, and peered in. It was dark. The door was locked.
He rapped his knuckles against the pane of glass. “Tommy? It’s Ryan.”
He listened and watched for movement. Nothing. His stomach dropped at the thought of what might have happened. He rarely left the property.
He glanced back at Josh who shrugged.
Ryan tried again then skirted around the side of the building, knocking on a few more windows.
“Ryan!” Josh called out, getting out of the truck. His son pointed away from the office. Ryan made his way back to find Tommy standing by one of the RVs. A sense of relief washed over him. He still looked the same. Trimmed black hair. A goatee. Built like a bull. No noticeable difference in age. Not a day over forty-five. Like him he was armed, shotgun in hand. He wore a decal gray T-shirt, tight black jeans, and boots.
There was a second or two while he registered who he was staring at before he called out to him while cupping a hand over his eyes to block the glare of the sun. “That you, Ryan?”
“In the flesh.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Is that any way to welcome your brother?”
“Depends. You infected?”
“Do you honestly think I would come here if I was?”
“Actually yes. Yes, I do.”
“That’s in the past, Tommy.”
“Who’s that with you?”
He glanced to Josh who had his door open and was standing on the edge of the truck’s side step, observing over the top of the truck. “Oh, you remember Josh. My son.”
Tommy squinted. “I’ll be damned. Is he clean?”
“Of course he is.”
“Can’t be too careful.” He scanned the property before beckoning them over.
Lily was still asleep but Josh gave her a shake to wake her up.
“We’re here,” Josh said.
“Where?”
“You’ll see,” Ryan said, helping her out. She held on to his hand. His dwarfed hers. At the RV Tommy kept his distance but had them step inside. He closed the door behind him and locked it. Inside it smelled musty. There was an ashtray on the table with a cigarette burning. Several open bottles of beer. A radio tuned into some station that was playing low in the background.
“You’re his brother?” Josh asked.
“That’s right.”
“But you’re black?” he added, his eyes darting between them. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that but...”
Tommy went over to a mirror on the wall and glanced at himself. “Well isn’t that something. All this time I thought I was white.” He burst out laughing and Ryan chuckled. “Didn’t you tell them you were adopted, Ryan?”
Ryan glanced at Josh.
“They only arrived yesterday.”
“Is that right,” he said, taking a seat. “Been a long time since I have seen you, kid. And who is this beautiful butterfly?”
“My daughter. Lily.”
Tommy looked up from Lily to Ryan. “You are just full of surprises, aren’t you, brother? Why didn’t you tell me about her?”
“Because I only found out yesterday.”
Ryan went to the window and looked out.
Tommy nodded and stared at the two of them. “Shoot. Where are my manners? Can I get you guys a drink? Coke? Sprite?” he said, walking to the back of the RV and opening the fridge. He held out their options and Lily took one.
“What do you say, Lily?” Josh said.
“Thank you.”
“Ah, you are more than welcome, sweetheart.” He grabbed two beers and offered one to Ryan.
“I don’t do that anymore.”
“Huh,” Tommy replied. “Things must be better if you’re turning down a beer.” He turned to Josh. “If the young one wants to watch TV. You can. The remote is over there.” He pointed then gestured to Ryan. “Pull up a chair.” Tommy sank behind the table.
“You talked to mom?”
Tommy swallowed a mouthful of beer and set the bottle down. He picked up a burning cigarette and took a hit. “She called me eight days ago. Told me not to come out.”
Ryan brought a hand over his face. “Shit.”
His father had passed several years ago. He was pleased he didn’t have to witness this.
“You alone here?”
“No, there are some guests. They’re too scared to leave the lodgings.”
“Had any trouble yet?” Ryan asked.
“Not to speak of but then we aren’t in town, right? What’s it like out there?”
“Every bit as bad as they are saying on the news. Listen, I came by to let you know that there is a safe place down in Florida. Boats are taking people to an island. I’m heading there. Taking the kids.”
“Elizabeth?”
Ryan shook his head. Tommy looked over to Josh and Lily. “Poor bastards. First you. Then this.”
“Hey. I thought you weren’t going to bring that up.”
“Hard to forget. I’m just saying it can’t be easy. How’s it been with them?”
“Every bit what I expected and more.”
“That good?”
Ryan chuckled and downed his beer in one gulp, quenching his thirst. “Come with us.”
“And leave all this behind?”
“Tommy, this is spreading faster than they can contain. You know what the government might eventually do to stop it. Do you want to be here for that? There are already curfews in effect. Martial law and widespread attacks. It might not have found its way to your doorstep today but you can be sure it will soon. And realistically, how long can you last here?”
Tommy looked tired. No doubt he wasn’t getting sleep. No one was. He tapped ash into an ashtray and got up and crossed the RV to look outside. “These boats. Who’s running the show?”
Ryan shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. Elizabeth told me about them.”
“And you believed her?” He laughed. “I thought she was dead?” Tommy glanced at Josh.
“She is. Look, it’s what she wanted. Her parents are in Florida. At least on the water, we stand a chance while they chase their tail and find a cure.”
“I figured I would wait it out,” Tommy said, returning to his
seat. “I mean, realistically how long are we looking at before the infected die out? Seems like this pathogen or whatever it is has a shelf life.”
“If the infected self-isolated. Sure. But that’s not what’s happening.”
In the background they could hear a news channel playing, reminding them of the uncontained situation. Widespread panic had gripped large cities. It was no longer confined to the USA. It had gone international. Italy. Germany. Spain. France. The UK. Australia. The clock was ticking on people’s lives. As people aged rapidly, reportedly two years per day, for some that meant death would come sooner than others. Either way, if infected even a newborn would be sixty within thirty days. “Change the channel, Josh,” Tommy said.
“No, leave it on,” Ryan said, making his way over and observing it with interest. “You can’t wait this out, Tommy. Look.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Look!” He turned the screen, realizing his brother had been downplaying the gravity of the situation. Josh placed his hand over his sister’s eyes. “This is why this won’t fizzle out. People are spreading it so they can survive.”
“Then the next ones will die out.”
It was Josh that spoke up this time. “That’s not how it appears to work. Unlike other viruses where the immune response from past infection reduces the risk of catching it again within x number of months. The CDC has confirmed reports of reinfection occurring within weeks of transmitting it to someone else. I saw a video too. So you get it, you give it away, you might be good for a week or two but then capable of being a host again.”
“And so the cycle continues,” Ryan added. “That’s why you can’t just hole up here.”
Tommy sank back into his seat. The weight of it sinking in. He wasn’t alone in this mindset of waiting it out. Typically that’s how the average approach to tackling a virus worked, but this was no ordinary pathogen.
“So you’re saying this is here permanently?”
“Until they find a cure. It’s death or pass it on to someone else and hope you don’t get reinfected. And the older you are, the fewer days and less strength you’ll have to give it away.”