“My head already hurts. It hurts since I’ve been here,” Davis said grumpily. She then got a weird look on her face. “Also, this is embarrassing, but what about using the restroom?”
“Don’t be embarrassed. It’s fine; we’ve all been there, and everyone needs help once in a while. You haven’t eaten much, really, and although you’ve been drinking water, you’re also dehydrated. So, don’t worry. But we have ways to deal with anything. And in a few days, you’ll be strong enough to get up and use the restroom by yourself.”
“Great. All my dreams are coming true,” Davis said with sarcasm. “Okay, while we have this pleasant little chat, why are you forcing me to get sick? Why are you neglecting to give me my vaccine?”
“Because it’s not to keep the Lombardi Plague away. It administers a mind-control drug.”
August 22, 2056 –
Detoxification
Davis could vaguely remember wanting to argue with Quinn. She knew Quinn had said something absurd, but Davis felt so over-fatigued and ill that she simply didn’t have it in her power to say or do anything. And now, she lay there, barely able to move and feeling more afflicted; it was beyond belief. She’d never really been sick in the past. At least Davis didn’t remember ever having any type of real malaise. President Everett and his vaccinations had kept her well all these years. Why change anything? Blast Quinn and her damn withdrawing, she thought. But she kept drifting off into a sweaty, fidgety sleep, and after a while, she forgot the ridiculous things Quinn had even said to her.
Davis was aware that people were coming in and out of the room, occasionally giving her fresh water to sip and, sometimes, refreshing ice chips. Every so often, she got a spoonful of a clear broth, a cracker, or a small scoop of rice. It didn’t seem to matter what they fed her, though; she threw it all up. She hated the acrid, burning taste at the back of her throat. Davis felt as if a thick black tar was burning up her esophagus, licking the back of her throat, and coating her tongue in a foul taste. She was sore and ached all over; her body was covered in red, itchy welts. Her head pounded, and there was so much pressure and pain as if a massive concrete block was somehow simultaneously tied around her neck, dragging her down, and slamming against both temples at once. From what little awareness she had, the people that came into the room seemed kind. They helped her with the food, water and gave her a fan to try and give her direct cooling, the only thing that remotely gave her any relief. They put cold cloths on her head and cleaned up anything that needed cleaning up. Nothing mattered, though; the only thing that mattered to her was getting out of this misery.
“Kill me,” Davis remembered saying one day after Quinn walked in to see her. Davis just needed it to stop, and she didn’t know how long she had been in this hell but knew it had been too long. She was finished with this agony.
“It’s okay,” Quinn softly cooed. “It’s almost over.” She came over and sat with Davis next to the bed and placed her hand on Davis’s forehead. “It seems like your fever may be breaking. That’s a good sign.”
“How long…how long…” Davis couldn’t get the words out; she felt depleted of all her energy and strength.
“Three days,” said Quinn, knowing what Davis wanted to hear. “You’ll have two or three more rough days, but not as rough as they have been. It will gradually get better. I bet you’re going to get very hungry soon. You’ve barely had any food. I’m going to bring you some water; I’m sure you’re parched. Other than that, do you want anything specific? Applesauce, broth, crackers—”
“What I want…can you tell me why I’m here? I just want to know what I’m doing here and why you’re doing this to me. What is the reason for this? I’ve never hurt anyone.”
“Honestly, can you tell me, have you never really hurt anyone? Were you blameless at the Everett Center?” Quinn raised her voice more than Davis had ever heard from her, and her face got red, her frustration showing. “You know what? I’m sorry. Never mind, this isn’t about that. You are here for a reason. In a few days, you can ask any questions you want. Everything will become clear then.” What she said next was done so quietly, Davis almost couldn’t hear it. Davis thought she said, “I’m sorry.”
“No,” said Davis after a short pause. “No, in regards to the food you asked about before. Maybe just some water. I’m tired; I think I want to sleep.” She then sadly turned away, even though the aches and pains all over her body made her cringe with pain and discomfort. She wasn’t thinking about that, though. She was just hoping that Quinn couldn’t see the tears starting to fall from her eyes and making a hot streak down her face.
All night, Davis tossed, turned, fell asleep into rough nightmares, and then would wake up, sweat making her clothing stick to her and giving her a cold, clammy feeling. She noticed her body didn’t ache and hurt, and her head wasn’t pounding as much as it had before. The welts that had irritated her so severely were gone. However, she was still hurting. Both inside and outside hurt now, but she would keep it to herself. She would keep it a secret that the sick feeling in her stomach now mainly had to do with the young boy and what she had done to him.
August 29, 2056 –
The Fog Begins to Lift
The next time Davis awoke, she realized she felt remarkably better, although that sinking feeling about the boy remained. She rolled over on her side, a massive sad feeling surrounding her, making her want to sleep more. But she couldn’t deny she was feeling some restlessness and energy. At the same time, Davis felt a bit hazy with her thoughts. It was as if she couldn’t decipher reality from dreams and wasn’t sure what had happened in the last few weeks. It seemed as if she was trying to look at her life and figure out exactly who she was and what had happened, but somebody had thrown mud right in her eye, and she wasn’t seeing or thinking clearly. It was an odd, odd feeling, and words and thoughts kept swirling through her mind at an alarming speed, way too quick for her to snag them and decipher their meaning.
At that moment, a man Davis remembered seeing during her illness walked into her room. He was tall and slim—lanky—and although a long torso held his long arms, legs, and feet, they still seemed as if they were too long for him. It was as if he were not quite put together right, a man in a scarecrow’s body. He was maybe sixty-five years old, with thinning light brown hair in a scrawny ponytail at the nape of his neck. He had thin wire glasses that did not hide his large brown eyes—the bridge of the glasses perched on his aquiline nose. Davis had read a book once, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, and she imagined that the protagonist from that book, Ichabod Crane, would have looked precisely as this man did. He had a gentle demeanor about him, and it didn’t seem as if he would be mean. However, Davis, being unfamiliar with who he was, made sure the blankets covered her properly. She was wearing clothing, but she wasn’t willing to take chances. When he spoke, he spoke softly and kindly. “Hi…how are you, Davis? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I hope you’re feeling better. I’m not sure if you remember meeting me, but my name is Ringo. Can I do anything for you? Get you anything?”
Since being kidnapped, Davis didn’t feel overwhelmingly comfortable with anyone she had come in contact with, but she knew Quinn best, at least. She asked Ringo if he wouldn’t mind getting Quinn for her. Ringo nodded his head slowly, bobbing it a few times in rapid succession. “Of course,” he said, “I’ll send her right in.”
When Quinn came in, she parroted Ringo’s earlier thoughts, asking how Davis was doing and if she needed anything. “I’m feeling better, thank you. But I would like to have more information, please. About why I’m here, where I’m at, and what is going on,” Davis said smugly.
“Honestly, a lot of the information you will receive will be…overwhelming, to say the least. I know that sounds scary, but I want to remind you nobody here wants to do you any harm, and you’re safe.” Quinn took a deep breath before continuing, “I can tell you where you are. You’re in a bunke
r. Ringo, you met him; he built this years ago. It was his doomsday bunker.” She waited a beat for Davis to respond. But Davis just looked down at her hands, nervously twiddling her thumbs for a few seconds, so Quinn continued, “Do you feel like you can get up and use the restroom and shower yourself?”
“No, I’m not sure, I mean. Maybe, but I’m feeling a bit unstable still.”
“I’ll bring you some food. After you eat and maybe have a nap, we’ll see then. I promise you, when you’re feeling up to it, we will all sit together at a table and go over exactly what is going on. We’ll answer your questions.”
Davis replied, sounding sad, “Yes, that sounds okay.” And as Quinn had almost exited the room, Davis said, “Oh, Quinn?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you,” replied Davis with a shy smile.
Quinn left the room, but she returned shortly with some water, vegetable broth, and crackers. She brought them over on a tray and set it on the table next to Davis. “Do you think you can feed yourself? I can tell you some things while you eat if you like.”
“Yes, thank you. I think that will work fine.”
“Great…okay, let’s just start at where you are. I mentioned before that you’re in Ringo’s doomsday bunker. When President Everett started aggressively taking over—”
“Aggressively taking over?” Davis scoffed, interrupting.
Quinn paused a second before continuing. She had to remember that Davis was still coming off the last of the mind control drugs, and not only that, it would take some time. Davis had known one thing her whole life, and suddenly, a group of people unknown to her was trying to convince her that something else entirely different was the truth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have used that language. Some of us here have had less than pleasant experiences with the government, and I let that cloud my language. Again, I apologize if I offended you.”
Quinn’s frankness surprised Davis. At the same time, something was nagging in her brain to retort in a rude and insulting way. Without really thinking of what she was saying, she answered delicately, “That’s okay, don’t worry. You can continue, please?”
“Sure. So, Ringo was a doomsday prepper. Maybe you have heard of them at some point?”
“Yes, I’ve heard some but don’t know a lot about them.”
“That’s okay. You don’t need to. Ringo and some others he was friends with built these underground bunkers. They stocked them with food, clean water, first aid kits, medical supplies, you name it, any basic human need, and Ringo stocked it. His bunker is enough for twelve people comfortably, and up to fifteen if need be. We only have eight full-time residents and between four and six part-time, depending on circumstances. Underground tunnels connect us to three other doomsday bunkers that family and friends of Ringo built. They are all set up similarly to us. We have water and some frozen food; that food will last at least another year, maybe two, if we’re careful. But we also have a hydroponic garden that grows lettuce, spinach, peppers, tomatoes; we grow potatoes too.”
“What is a hydroponic garden? And wait, what? No nutrition biscuits? How do you get all the nutrition you need?”
“To answer the question—food gives us all the nutrition we need. Once upon a time, there were no nutrition biscuits.”
“But I thought there were excess sugar and salt in all those things.”
“Yes, in some of the processed stuff we have, that is true. But in the stuff we grow, it’s natural sugar—the nutrition biscuits have sugar and salt too because you need some in your diet. They just forget to mention that part when they’re telling you about how healthy they are, but I think we’re getting off track,” said Quinn as she sensed Davis was getting frustrated with the quasi-negative talk about the government. “Let me tell you a little about hydroponic gardening since you asked. Let me go grab a pot first so I can show you what it looks like.”
A little bit later, Quinn came back into the room with a small clear pot. A green sprout was growing out of a beaker of water suspended in the middle. “So, this is one of our small pots. Most of the ones we have are a lot larger. But Ringo has these little ones for people to have in their room if they want. These small ones are flowers that bring a little color into our world. Anyhow, hydroponics is a method of growing plants without soil. They work pretty much anywhere as long as you have access to clean water—we have an intricate filtering system as we have to reuse much of our water. Nutrients are added into the water, and also, you need airflow. We have a filtered air recycling system for the air we breathe and for the plants. Ringo is the expert; there are some other items I’m not as familiar with, coconut fibers and small clay rocks; he knows when and where to place them in the plants.”
“Wow, that’s quite a lot,” said Davis. “I’m still not sure about eating other things besides biscuits.”
“But you have! You are sipping broth and eating crackers right now!”
Davis looked down and realized she had indeed been eating something other than the nutrition biscuits. It was another odd feeling for her; another piece of her brain was floating up above her head and not making sense. She realized, previously, as she ate, her mind mechanically tricked her into thinking she was eating nutrition biscuits. But it had turned out that wasn’t what she was eating at all. Very odd, she thought to herself, extraordinary indeed. She was feeling overwhelmed again, and fatigue was starting to put weight on her eyelids. “Yes, you are right. I feel silly. I wasn’t even thinking about it.”
“I understand; I know confusing things are going on right now.”
“Thank you. I think if it’s okay, let’s finish talking tonight; I want to get some sleep.”
“Yes, of course. That’s perfectly fine. If you want to freshen up at all, there is a bathroom around the corner from your room. Just walk out, turn right, walk about five feet past the ‘Bathroom Supplies’ closet, then another few feet, and the bathroom will be on the left. It is a full bathroom with a shower. I brought you towels if you want to freshen up. We have two other full bathrooms and then two with a toilet and sink only, but the one I told you about is the closest to you.”
“Thank you; you’ve been most helpful. I think I just need to sleep right now.”
Davis felt as if she was already drifting off as she said the words. She was aware of Quinn leaving the room but felt detached as if she was floating above her body and was not hundred percent aware of what was going on.
Quinn wished her a good night as she departed, not sure if Davis had even heard her. She felt terrible; she honestly did because Quinn knew what was coming, and she knew it wouldn’t be pleasant. As the physical discomfort waned, the emotional distress would intensify.
August 30, 2056 –
The Longest Day
Davis slept for what felt like many hours, maybe a whole other day, it seemed, but she didn’t have a clue what time she even went to sleep. But she did know she felt pretty good, almost like she was on the brink of being back to her old self. There were still some nagging bits; it felt as if little bugs were crawling around her brain and occasionally biting off a piece. It didn’t exactly hurt, but it didn’t feel right, either. It was a weird sensation, just like pretty much everything else had been since she got to the bunker. Bizarre, odd feelings that led her not to be fully aware, not entirely sure what was real and what wasn’t. She felt very vague and ambiguous about herself and life itself.
Suddenly feeling very awake and—she hated to say it—but she felt gross, Davis decided it was time to head to the restroom. She didn’t know when the last time she had taken a shower. Davis remembered Quinn telling her where the bathroom was but was still feeling a bit nervous about just getting over her illness. She had never been ill like that and did not know what the after-effects might be. The last thing she wanted to do was throw up or faint. She very slowly and methodically pulled herself into a sitting position. When she felt okay with that
, she stood up but kept one hand on the edge of the bed headboard to make sure she was stable. Although Davis felt a bit lightheaded, it passed after a moment. She slowly worked her way over to where Quinn had set the pink, fluffy towels down and went to pick them up. All of that seemed to go fine, so she opened the door and stepped out.
After Davis found the restroom, she took her time taking a leisurely shower. She wasn’t sure why she took her time; she was used to timed showers. But, something about it felt so invigorating and refreshing, so peaceful and calming; the steaming water carried away some of her stress and worries. She also got a kick out of trying some of the different soaps and shampoos they had. Other scents, unlike the eucalyptus and tea tree scent she was accustomed to using. She found she was quite fond of the hyacinth scented bath soap. Hyacinth, she played with the word in her mind. She wasn’t quite sure how to say it, really, but it smelled amazing. It was a sweet, delicate floral scent, with a mildly spicy undertone that was intoxicating. She looked at the picture on the soap bottle; she had never seen them in person. The little blooms grew up the stem, creating columns of flowers in blue, pink, and white on their stems, verdant with thick, broad leaves. Davis thought they looked like mini flower fireworks. Flowerworks. She laughed to herself at her corny joke.
After her shower, she continued primping herself with the beauty products they had in the bathroom. There were different lotions and hair care products. She knew she was somewhat wasteful, and for that, would apologize to everyone. By nature, Davis wasn’t usually an extravagant person. Although again, she had never really had the opportunity to be. But it felt so good to find pleasure in these little things and pamper herself; something never experienced before. And, quite honestly, she wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to do this again. She regretted putting on her dirty clothing; the handy little window cutout she was used to retrieving her fresh clothing from was missing.
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