“What is the military doing about this?” Daniel asked, turning toward General Samson.
“The Navy has set up a quarantine around the nation. We have drones constantly scanning the waterways nearby for any potential risks. There is no way that the Demon Virus can escape.”
“How can you guarantee that?” Daniel asked eyebrow raised.
“Simply, the virus doesn’t restore full brain functionality, only basic motor functions,” Dr. Victoria interjected.
“So, you’re saying that those infected don’t have control over themselves?” Daniel retorted back.
“No, once an infected subject dies, the virus takes over their body. They aren’t human afterward,” Dr. Victoria explained.
Daniel leaned in closer, “How do you know they aren’t human?”
“Because the virus claims their bodies as a host, they may look human, but their only focus is spreading the virus,” Dr. Victoria claimed, “We have photographs of the infected we would like to show. Make no mistake, these infected individuals are no longer human.”
Daniel turned toward the camera, “We advisor our viewers at home that we are about to show graphic images, and if you don’t wish to view it, either turn your channel or look away.”
An image of a Yokai filled Kenji’s screen; a man covered in dried blood, eyes black as night, veins webbing his neck and face. Kenji looked away, not wanting to be reminded of the horrific image. He quickly turned off the TV, throwing the remote beside him. Standing up, Kenji moved to the window, pulling back the blinds to peek outside. All the news reporters and their crew were outside, waiting for him to leave.
Kenji backed away, moving to the stairs, heading to his bedroom. He took off his clothes, throwing them into a pile beside his bed before laying down.
The public knows the truth now. Maybe they will see what really happened and change their minds on me being a hero. At least then they would be right and leave me alone. I’m tired of being called a hero.
Rolling onto his side Kenji closed his eyes, knowing he needed to go to sleep. Tomorrow was his first scheduled meeting with his therapist, something he was looking forward to. Kenji needed help, and this would be his chance to receive it.
The next morning Kenji stopped at the window, checking outside to see if the mob had cleared out. He held no hope that they had left, and he was glad he hadn’t gotten his hope up.
Still there. Why won’t they leave? The news yesterday gave them all the information they wanted. I need to leave, but they are they blocking the way.
Kenji took a breath, steeling himself against the onslaught of questions he was about to receive. Opening the door, he shoved his key inside the lock, and in one quick movement, shut the door and locked it. Sprinting down the small set of concrete stairs, following the path that led to his car in the driveway, he didn’t stop. As quick as he was, it didn’t matter, the mob outside had noticed him, and began to move toward him.
Slamming the car door closed, Kenji quickly started his car, as the mob of reporters crowded around the sides and front of his car, shouting questions at him, attempting to get him to talk. Kenji backed out of his driveway, careful to avoid running any of the reporters and their cameramen over. Once he was on the street, he gave his car some gas, clearing the mob. Kenji let out a heavy sigh, glad that he was able to get away without an incident.
Kenji followed the GPS directions to the offices where his therapist’s office was. The building was brick-faced, three stories tall, with black-tinted windows dotting its surface evenly every several feet. Kenji entered the lobby, which was small, containing a couple of elevators, and a plaque on the wall, stating the different psychiatrists and other professional offices were located. Noting that he only had to follow the hallway further to find the office he needed.
He opened the door, finding a small room with four comfy looking chairs facing a small table with magazines on it, with a single door opposite of the one he had just opened. The walls were beige with a painting of a beach, hanging on each wall; on the table, alongside the magazines, sat a white noise machine. Kenji figured it was to keep people calm, but he just found it annoying.
Great, this already looks like it won’t be fun. I wonder if they’ll notice if I shut this thing off.
Before Kenji could grab the small cube, the other door opened, and a man stepped out, “Kenji, I presume? I hope I said that right, they made a note that you wanted to be called by that name.”
“Yes, hello,” Kenji replied, weirded out at the man’s attempt to be friendly.
Kenji eyed him up and down, noticing his brown leather sandals, with white socks. He wore dark blue dress pants and a white button-up shirt, with a brown vest and glasses that sat on the tip of his nose, instead of his bridge; wire frame, with circle lenses. His hair was black, speckled with white around the rim of his balding top part of his head.
“I’m Doctor Jeff, nice to meet you. I look forward to helping you,” Doctor Jeff announced, motioning Kenji to come inside.
Kenji walked past the man, entering the actual office portion of the area. The walls were the same color as the lobby, complete with the same paintings of the beach. However, there was a big wooden desk in one corner, adjacent to it was a couch and chair, facing each other.
“Please, have a seat,” Doctor Jeff said, pointing to the couch, closing the door behind him.
Kenji sat on the couch as instructed, and Doctor Jeff sat in the chair, producing a notepad and pen.
“Now Kenji, I just want to start off saying this is a safe place. You can speak freely, no one here will judge you. I’m just here to help you clear your mind. Make sense of what happened.”
I know what happened…Everyone I knew is dead because of a deadly virus.
“Let’s start off with who you were before the event happened,” Doctor Jeff said, scribbling something on his notepad.
“I don’t know. I was just a regular person, working an accounting job.”
“Uh-huh. And?” Doctor Jeff coaxed.
“I spent most of my time working, saving up my money.”
“Okay, and how are you feeling?” Doctor Jeff asked, tapping his pen on the rim of his notepad.
“I don’t know. Nervous. Scared. Angry, I guess,” Kenji replied.
“Why do you feel that way?”
Aren’t you supposed to tell me that?
“I’m drained. Tired and overwhelmed.”
Doctor Jeff smiled a toothy grin at Kenji, a clearly practiced gesture, “That’s easy to understand. After all, what you went through, what you had to endure. You’re a survivor.”
Tapping his pen against his chin, Doctor Jeff took a moment to think, “Hm. Kenji, let’s try something else, try to ease you into this. Remember, I’m here to help,” Doctor Jeff explained once more, “I’m going to have you lay back on the couch and take several deep breaths. Then just say the first thing that comes to your mind, it doesn’t matter what it is.”
Kenji laid down, closing his eyes, taking four deep breaths, “I’m not a hero.”
“How so? What doesn’t make you a hero?”
“Everyone keeps calling me a hero. I don’t deserve that title. All I did was survive, nothing else,” Kenji explained.
“Hm. But you helped five other people escape. You did that, Kenji,” Doctor Jeff explained, “What makes you so afraid of being a hero?”
Kenji sat silently before he felt hot tears rolling down the side of his face, “It’s my fault the others didn’t make it.”
“Uh-huh, Kenji, you can’t blame yourself for other’s actions.”
“You don’t understand. They died because I didn’t lead. I hid. I did nothing to prevent those deaths. They looked to me, and I let them die,” Kenji stated.
“Kenji, I think you blame yourself for something you can’t control. No one has the power to see the future. You couldn’t possibly have known the outcome.”
After a few moments of silence, Doctor Jeff spoke again, “I’d like t
o try you some different medicines, see if that can’t help with the stress of everything. I can guarantee you'll see improvement. Until the next meeting, just keep trying to live a normal life. Go to work, go out, find new friends.”
“Actually,” Kenji interrupted, “I quit that accounting job, it reminded me too much of before.”
“Okay, hm. How about I try to find you something less stressful, and give you a call after,” Doctor Jeff said, peering over his glasses, “Work will help you keep your mind moving.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Later that night, Kenji laid down, readying himself for bed. He turned on the TV, finding that the interview he had watched the day before on repeat. Kenji stared blankly, wondering when he was going to be able to escape his past and move on. To his surprise, the interview segment kept going but had changed to a short video of himself and the others leaving quarantine.
Underneath, the banner displayed The Survivors of Japan, Demon Virus, with his shocked face.
Dr. Victoria still spoke over the video clip of Kenji and the others, “The CDC has created a new division, The IVC, International Virus Control. I will be leading this new division in hopes to keep this virus from spreading, as well as working toward a cure. The U.N. will be working directly with a congressional committee to oversee this new organization.”
Dr. Victoria popped back onto the screen, “Thanks to the efforts of the survivors of Japan, or as we know them, The Heroes of Japan, we have valuable data that will allow this to become a reality.”
Kenji sat up; his interest piqued.
So, the data we brought was of some use. At least it seems Muller was able to get it to the right people. Also, now I know why everyone thinks I'm a hero…
Kenji turned off the TV, throwing the remote at the wall, sending the batteries flying out. He ignored them as he threw his pillow over his face, screaming in anguish. What felt like years of grief, guilt, and pain hit him at once. Kenji finally felt the reality of the situation sink in.
I am a survivor. To the rest of the world…I am a hero.
Chapter 4
With the help of Doctor Jeff, Kenji had accepted the job at a nearby college, working as the groundskeeper. The job kept him busy, giving him something to focus on, but that diminished as soon as he returned home. It was a small reprieve from his inner torment and self-loathing, but he was far from turning around his life. Nobuto and Ren were the only reason he tried to get better, but it seemed he had made no real progress.
Kenji had left one morning for his job, nearly three months after the outbreak, feeling like something was going to be different. It scared him, knowing that he only had this sense back in Japan, something was coming, it made his hair stand on end, senses heightened. Kenji fought through the feeling, trying to focus on his work at hand. It was autumn, and soon would be winter; however, he would still have work to do inside the buildings around the campus. Today Kenji planned to prepare the plants in the landscaping for winter, trimming back various bushes. He watched students pass by him as he did his work, unconcerned about anything but their own lives.
He yearned for that level of content, bitter toward the students. Kenji had heard whispers from other faculty members that he received a reputation; cold and uncaring. Since then, he had only talked to a few people, finding he had no idea how to connect with anyone any longer. Kenji didn't care; at least it meant they weren't trying to talk to him. He wasn't ready to get to know new people like Ren and Nobuto were. It was as though his mind was holding him back, trying to make sure he wouldn't be surprised ever again.
Kenji was perpetually stuck in the same ritual, attempting to move on but being incapable of doing so. The memories flooded him every time he started to feel himself slip into what he thought normal should feel like. It snapped him back to when he had to be hyper-aware of his surroundings, as well the pain. It was the only emotion besides fear that he could feel, leaving him feeling crippled.
Kenji tried, he tried everything, to feel happiness or joy, but couldn’t make it happen. A whole part of him was missing, and he could never get it back. He was incomplete and wondered what, if anything, could fill that void. Nothing he had tried worked yet, constantly reminded that he was different didn’t help.
Society didn’t accept him but anything as a hero. Kenji was something no one else, but those who survived the outbreak of Japan understood. The United States of America had decided to release to the public that the whole of Japan had been quarantined indefinitely, trapping the Demon Virus.
After the initial interview with Dr. Victoria, there was a small panic, the world’s populous concerned with a new end-all-times virus. As a whole, people prepped for the worse, buying all manner of goods they thought they would need for the coming end of days. Only it didn’t come; instead, the public realized that it wasn’t a threat unless the outbreak spread, which was almost highly unlikely since Japan was an island nation.
The panic died, normal life continued, and the Demon Virus became something that people pushed to the back of their minds. It didn’t affect them, so what did it matter. It became just another horrible blip in the world’s timeline of other horrible events. Luckily for Kenji, he, too, was mostly pushed out from the public’s eye.
Kenji did feel a little better once he wasn’t constantly bombarded by the public every time he left his house, but occasionally people recognized him. He enjoyed his solitary job, where he only answered to the Dean of the college and could avoid speaking to anyone his entire workday. He kept his senses trained, though, unwilling to lose his skills that kept him alive. He watched and listened to everything that went on nearby him.
Just beginning to trim a bush with a pair of shears, the fourth bush he had been working on since the start of his day, his senses kicked into alert. He felt someone standing behind him, quickly swinging around, holding the shears ready to defend himself. The figure turned out to be Muller, dressed in regular clothes with a look of slight surprise of his own.
“I see you still have your reflexes, but I don’t think you’ll need that,” Muller said, pointing at the shears with a smile.
Kenji set down the shears, “Muller! I hoped you were well, but they wouldn’t give us any information about anyone in the military. It’s good to see you!”
“Well, that’s a story I’ll gladly tell you if you have the time to hear it. Care to join me for lunch? I know a place down the street. I’ve already cleared it with your boss. I told him it was official business,” asked Muller with a smirk.
“Yeah, that sounds great. Just let me go put these shears away, and then we can leave,” said Kenji with excitement.
Kenji walked quickly back to the shed the university had for all the tools. Tossing the shears onto the table in the shed, he headed back to where Muller was. Kenji was happy to see Muller, having been separated once they boarded the navy ship and quarantined. Kenji had hoped to see the soldier earlier, but with setting his life back up, and not knowing Muller’s location made it impossible. Eager to find out why Muller had finally decided to visit him, Kenji followed Muller back to an SUV. Kenji sat in the passenger seat as Muller drove them to a nearby deli.
As they climbed out of the SUV, Muller turned to him, “Find us a good spot inside, somewhere quiet so we can talk. I’ll grab us some food.”
Kenji carried out Muller's wish, grabbing a booth toward the back of the restaurant. It wasn’t long before Muller found Kenji carrying two sandwiches and chips with him.
“So, I hear you are having a tough time adjusting back into normal life,” said Muller, not wasting any time, “Don't worry, it’s normal. Hell, I couldn’t sleep for the next month after we got out, they had me taking sleeping pills. I get it. I do.”
Kenji nodded, “I just feel like I don’t fit in. No one else gets what took place there, besides us. People act like nothing happened, or that it can’t here. That it won’t again.”
Muller waved his hand, showing the room, “We both know that none of this means
a damn thing. This is just what makes people feel safe, what they deem normal. Walk into a restaurant and order your food, someone else makes it, and you eat it. Me and you know the real world, fighting to survive each moment to the next. This is all just false security, a blanket to cover up the real world and make it seem less scary. We both know how deadly the Demon Virus is; how quickly it devoured an entire nation.”
“None of it seems to bother you, or at least, you hide it very well. How did you overcome it?” Asked Kenji.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Have you heard of the IVC?” Muller asked.
“Yeah, I remember that scientist from the CDC talking about it. Why?”
“Good. I wanted to ask you to join me in the IVC. I helped create the infrastructure for an organization. That’s why it has taken me so long to contact you. I turned my fear and uncertainty into something productive. I think you’d like to be part of it. Maybe it will help you like it did me,” stated Muller trying to lift Kenji’s spirits.
Kenji looked at Muller quizzically, “I’m not a soldier or scientist, far from it. What makes you think I would be any help in a group like that?”
“Firsthand experience. That alone makes you already more qualified than ninety-nine percent of the people I work with. There is an unsurprising lack of experience dealing with the infected,” Muller leaned in close, “Between you and me, everyone in the IVC is flying blind right now. No one really knows what to do, so I’ve been spending my time attempting to run everything. It’s a bit of a nightmare if I’m honest.”
“You run everything on your own?” Kenji asked.
“Yes, but if I wasn’t there, no one else would be doing it, or worse, someone who doesn’t know anything at all. That’s why I’d love for you to join me, I could really use your help,” Stated Muller.
“What would you have me do for the IVC?” Kenji asked interest piqued.
“I could use your help training some of the newer recruits to the IVC. It would be a huge time investment on your part,” Muller said, looking at Kenji for an answer.
What Remains (Book 3): Epidemic Page 3