by M. D. Massey
Joshua isn’t back before the waitress, so we order for him. The second she’s gone I get to my feet. “I’m going to pee.”
The diner is crowded. I have to squeeze my way between waitresses and patrons, dodging trays and elbows. I bet they haven’t had a crowd like this in here since the 1950s.
There’s a line for the restroom. I stand at the back and dig through my purse until I find Emily’s picture. She smiles at me, and my heart constricts.
I didn’t want to give her up, but I was sixteen. It wasn’t safe in my home—if you could even call it that—and there was no way I could bring a baby there. It was just me and my dad. Mom had run off with a neighbor when I was ten. Not that I can blame her for leaving, but I do blame her for leaving me. She must have known dad would need a new punching bag if she left. She obviously didn’t care. That hurts even more than the beatings did. That she didn’t care about me.
I loved Emily the moment I saw her. She was so tiny and pink, and her face was all smashed in from birth, so ugly-cute like all newborns. I loved her enough to give her to the Johnson’s. They sent me updates for a while. Nine months, to be exact. Then they stopped. I can’t blame them. It wasn’t an open adoption, and they never got a single response from me. Maybe they thought I didn’t care. Truth was, it just hurt too much.
The woman behind me coughs on the back of my head. Hot, moist air hits my hair and brushes it forward. I start to turn around so I can yell at her, but I freeze. She’s not the only one. Half the people in this diner are hacking their heads off. People slump over in booths, their breathing raspy and their faces bright red. A woman moans and shivers. She has on two jackets, but she still shakes so hard her teeth clang together. Her face is covered in sweat. The man next to her urges her to eat something. But he coughs too.
My stomach aches. I’m going to hurl. It’s here.
I forget the bathroom and head back to the table. I have to pee, but I can do it on the side of the road. We need to get out of here. Joshua is back. The three men are tense. They look up when I walk over.
“It’s here,” I say, but they already know.
“We’re gettin’ our shit to go,” Axl says.
He’s pale. So is Angus. His face isn’t as hard as it was before. Death tends to do that to a person. Turn them into spaghetti.
Even Joshua shakes, and he knows he’s immune.
I sit down and wait, wringing my hands on top of the table. My hands tremble so hard that when I pick up my glass to take a drink, water spills everywhere. I set it back down.
“We still need supplies.” Angus’s voice is hollow.
“Why don’t you and the Doc head to the convenience store and grab us some stuff? Vivian and me’ll wait for the food,” Axl says.
Angus gets to his feet, and I stand to let Joshua out. People cough on them when they go by. Angus clenches his fist when a man sneezes on him. But the anger melts away and all the color drains from his face. He walks faster.
“Guess we’ll know soon,” Axl says.
I nod, but I can’t make my mouth work to say anything. My insides curl into a ball. They grow tighter each time I think about it. I should be relieved. Soon the suspense will be over, and I’ll know whether or not I’m going to die. But I’m not. I don’t want to die, and the thought of it happening makes me want to throw up.
Axl and I don’t speak. We just stare at each other. The diner is amazingly quiet, considering how full it is. People cough. There are a few quiet conversations. Otherwise it’s silent. Deathly silent.
“Thought the end of the world would be more dramatic than this,” he finally says. It makes me jump.
I look around. It is the end. It’s written on the face of every person in the diner. I’m sure it’s on mine. “There should be chaos or panic. Something.”
“Probably is. In the cities.”
He’s right. Here the people are too disappointed. They were so close. They passed their physicals and thought they were in the clear. That they were going to make it. Is that what’s going to happen to me? The thought sends a shiver down my spine.
The waitress finally brings our food. Axl hands her a wad of money without even looking at the bills. He grabs my elbow and pulls me toward the door. I try not to look at anyone, but I can’t stop myself. I meet the eyes of every person who coughs in my direction. They’re defeated and hopeless.
I pee behind the building, and we leave. We eat in the car. The silence is so thick and painful I wouldn’t be surprised if it swooped in and smothered us.
6
I wake to the sound of Angus cursing. He’s in the driver’s seat. I’m not sure when that happened. His face is tight and red as he stares out the front window. The car slows down.
There’s a police car pulled off to the side of the road with its light flashing. A cop stands in the middle of the street. He waves his arms, trying to flag us down. Another car is pulled over and two people stand next to it. My stomach tightens. Now what?
“Should we keep goin’?” Angus glances over his shoulder at Axl, who leans forward. His head sticks between the seats.
“No. You gotta stop.”
“What if they’re lookin’ for us?”
“They ain’t lookin’ for us. Not in Oklahoma. Not with the virus. We ain’t important right now.”
I was right. They are on the run.
“What do they want then?” I’ve never heard Angus sound so tense. I guess only the cops scare him.
“Guess we’ll find out,” Axl says.
Angus pulls over and plasters a fake smile on his face as the cop approaches the car. He rolls the window down, and we wait.
The cop draws his gun and pastes a tense smile on his face. He’s trying to stay casual. It doesn’t work. “Hey there, folks. Sorry for bothering you.”
“Not a problem, officer,” Angus says cheerfully.
“Listen, we’ve got a couple over here having some car trouble, and my partner and I were wondering if you would be willing to give them a ride to the next checkpoint. It’s only about twenty miles up the road, but we can’t leave our post.” His eyes dart toward the couple, then back.
His partner stands by the police car with a shotgun slung casually over his shoulder. Watching us.
“Once you get to the checkpoint you can drop them off and someone will help them.”
Angus frowns and looks over his shoulder, and I follow his gaze. Axl and Joshua are just as rigid as Angus. There’s something wrong here.
“Sure, officer…” Angus lets the word hang in the air for a brief second. “We can give them a lift. It’s only twenty miles.”
The cop nods. His face is tight. “Thanks.”
He doesn’t move, and he doesn’t take his eyes off us. He just waves to his partner and stays where he is. Tension fills my body as his partner walks toward us. The two people trail behind him. They each carry a few bags. Axl hops out of the car and goes around the back of the Nissan so he can open the door.
When they walk by me I get a better look at them. They’re young. Eighteen, nineteen. College students probably. A guy and a girl. He’s big like a linebacker. Dark black skin, hair cut short, serious face. She’s tiny like a child, probably only five feet tall. Indian. Long hair and big, round eyes that flash with terror.
Angus makes a grunting sound, and I glance his way. His face is even harder than before. Is their skin color is going to be a problem? He seems like that type.
“Yo, Doc!” Angus yells back to Joshua. “Climb on up to the second row so these new folks can have that there third row.”
“Thanks for your cooperation.” The cop finally walks away. He barely glances at us before going to the back of our car where his partner is. He never asked for our travel papers.
Angus looks back at his brother and murmurs a few racial slurs under his breath. I knew it. This should make for an interesting trip.
The couple climbs in the back, and Axl hops in after them. “Let’s get the hell outta here.”<
br />
The cop never comes back. He and his partner stand in the road behind us, talking.
I turn around in my seat and smile at the new arrivals. I’m on edge, but I don’t want them to think it has anything to do with them. “Hi. I’m Vivian. This is Angus, Joshua, and Axl.”
The guy nods, but the muscles in his neck are so tight his head barely moves. “Trey. This is Parvarti.”
“Where y’all comin’ from?” Angus calls back.
“Cornell University,” Trey says.
Joshua spins around. “New York?”
They both nod, but don’t speak. Neither do we. A million questions go through my head. I can’t force them past my lips. I want to know. So bad. But I don’t.
“Where you headed?” Axl’s voice is strained.
“New Mexico,” Parvarti says, speaking up for the first time. Her voice is soft and small, just like she is.
“Berkley,” Trey says.
Joshua finally finds his voice. “New York isn’t on lockdown anymore?”
Trey swallows a few times, like he has a tough time finding his voice. “No. Things broke up about a week ago. The military started pulling out. The place is like a ghost town. There are still cops around, but not many. They’re like the ones that stopped you. They’re trying to maintain an air of authority, but they’re just around to keep the peace. They don’t know what to do. Everything is breaking down. There’s just…nothing.” He stops and looks at Parvarti, who scoots closer to him. “When people started to leave, I decided to get the hell out. I had the cash to get me across the country, but no car. People started putting notices up in the coffee shop on campus, looking for travel companions. Parvarti had a car, but not enough money to get her home. So we teamed up.”
“So you didn’t know each other before then?” I ask. She took a big risk, driving a guy she didn’t know across the country. Then again, I did the same thing. Desperation.
“No,” she whispers.
“What ‘bout your family?” Axl asks. “You been in touch with ‘em?”
“My parents are okay. They said not a lot of people out that way are sick. Parv’s parents…” Trey looks down at her and frowns.
“The last time I talked to them was two days ago. They were sick. I haven’t been able to get in touch with them since.” Her eyes fill with tears. Trey puts his arm around her.
Joshua takes his phone out of his pocket.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Calling a friend. He’s a lab tech with the CDC. The doctor friend of mine who died was his girlfriend. He’ll tell me what’s going on.” His expression is tight when he puts the phone up to his ear. “Hector! It’s Joshua. Listen, the group I’m with just picked a few people up from New York. What’s going on out there?” He frowns, listening to the man on the other line. His face grows more worried by the second. “No. That’s not what Isabel said.”
A pit forms in my stomach. I chew on my lower lip and wait for him to tell us something. Trying to guess what the other man is saying just by Joshua’s expression makes me want to scream. It’s not good.
Joshua’s face crumples and his shoulders slump. “That’s it, then. This is the end.” He shakes his head and listens a little longer. “Somewhere in Oklahoma.” A pause. “It’s all the way out there? There’s no stopping this, is there?”
I can’t look at his face anymore. I already know what he’s going to say. He’s going to tell us it’s worse than they originally thought. That the government has no solutions. That I now have more than a seventy percent chance of death.
“Okay, thanks. I’ll talk to you later, man.” He lowers the phone and I turn back around. “It’s bad.”
“No shit,” Axl says. “How bad?”
“Right now they’re saying more than seventy percent of the population will be affected.”
“How much more?” I whisper, twisting my head just enough that I can see him.
Joshua looks at me. “Eighty. Maybe eighty-five. There are speculations that it’s some kind of man-made virus. Hector said there are rumors the government created it, that it somehow got out. But there are other rumors that there was a terrorist attack in New York. No one really knows for sure, and they probably never will.”
“How do you know all this?” Trey asks.
“I’m a doctor. I worked in Baltimore and the CDC was there. It’s a long story, but the short of it is this: you’re immune.”
Trey sits up straighter, but he keeps his arm around Parvarti’s shoulders. “What do you mean?”
“You were in New York this entire time. If you weren’t immune you’d be dead by now. How many of your friends got sick?”
“More than half,” Trey says, so quietly I almost can’t hear it.
Tears stream down Parvarti’s face. “There’s no chance of getting better?”
“No.” Joshua’s voice is firm. He doesn’t even try to cushion the blow. “If you get sick, you die. If you don’t, then you’re immune.”
Parvarti starts to cry harder, and Trey pulls her close.
I face the front. I’m hollow inside, almost resigned. There’s no way I’ll be immune. Deep down, I know that. How could I be? Nothing else in life has gone my way. Why should this?
No one talks for a while, and eventually Parvarti’s crying stops. I’m glad. I should feel more sympathy toward her, but I don’t. At least she knows now, before she gets all the way home.
We finally reach the checkpoint. If we didn’t already know it was hopeless, we would now. There are still armed soldiers, still military vehicles, but it’s nothing like the last one. The soldier who walks up to us has his gun strapped to his back instead of in his hands. His body isn’t stiff like the last guy we saw. Only two soldiers block the road. One of them coughs.
“Papers.” His voice isn’t firm like the soldier at the last checkpoint. This guy’s face is red and he has beads of sweat on his forehead. He turns his head away and coughs. He’s sick.
Everyone passes their travel papers forward, and Angus gives them to the soldier, who barely glances at them before he hands them back. He’s just going through the motions at this point.
“Stick to Route 66,” he says, then turns away from us.
The other soldiers step aside, and Angus drives by. “Damn.”
My throat is tight. I can’t speak. The car is so silent it reminds me of a tomb.
Angus tosses the papers my way. “These are probably useless now, but just in case.”
They fall on the seat and on the floor. I gather them up. I’m too drained to be annoyed.
“Guess we’re stuck with you two.” Angus looks in the rearview mirror and shakes his head. He purses his lips like he just ate something sour.
I completely forgot we were supposed to drop Trey and Parvarti off at the checkpoint.
“You can drop us off at the next motel,” Trey says. He still has his arm around Parvarti, and all the muscles in the face are taut.
Parvarti pulls away from him. “No. You need to get home, Trey. Your parents aren’t sick.” She digs through a bag and pulls out a handful of money. Her hand shakes when she thrusts it forward. “We can pay you.”
“We’re going to California anyway.” I focus on Axl. Angus would never agree to give them a ride.
Axl turns to Parvarti and Trey without even consulting his brother. “Put your money away. We’ll give you a ride. You gotta pitch in. Help out when we camp and all that.”
“Not even gonna talk to me ‘bout this, Axl?” Angus glares at me, but I don’t back down.
“How’s it hurting you? We’re going there anyway!”
Angus stares straight ahead. He mutters a few racial slurs just loud enough for me to hear them. I glance toward the backseat. Thankfully, it doesn’t look like Trey and Parvarti heard.
7
Angus slows down and pulls up behind a black Honda Civic. A tent is set up about twenty feet from the road. Two chairs lay on their sides next to what used to be a fire, b
ut no one is in sight. A couple huge black birds fly overhead, slowly circling the tent.
My stomach tightens, and I tear my eyes away from the tent, focusing on Angus. “What are you doing?” I have a bad feeling about this.
Angus doesn’t turn the car off. He sits there with his lips pursed, staring out the window. He doesn’t look at me, and he doesn’t answer.
Axl leans forward. “What’re you thinkin’?”
“I’m thinkin’ that we may be able to find a few supplies.” Angus catches his brother’s eye in the rearview mirror. “You got your gun?”
Axl holds it up.
“Why do you need a gun? It’s just a campsite,” Parvarti says.
“Protection.” Axl rolls his eyes.
“You ain’t livin’ in the same world you was a few weeks ago, darlin’,” Angus says. “Things are ‘bout to get real ‘round here. Just wait.”
Trey and Parvarti look at Angus like he’s insane, but he’s right. People are desperate. That makes them unpredictable.
He moves to the door, but stops and turns toward me. His lips are still pursed and he studies me for a few seconds. The hair on my scalp prickles. I can’t read his expression. What’s he thinking?
“You were serious ‘bout being a good shot?” he finally says.
My heart races. Is it possible that he’s going to give me my gun back? “No point in having a gun unless you learn how to shoot it.”
Approval flashes in his eyes. “I can trust you not to blow my head off?”
“As long as you don’t give me a reason to.”
He chuckles and bends down, reaching under the front seat. When he sits back up my gun is in his hand. “Here. Why don’t ya come with us? Give us a hand.”
I wrap my fingers around the gun. Just having it in my hand makes Angus seem less threatening.
“Everybody sit tight,” Angus calls as he opens the front door and steps out.
I hop onto the dusty ground, and Axl climbs out of the back. His gun is held tightly in his right hand. He raises it to chest level as we walk. Angus is more laid back. He keeps his gun tucked into his waistband, pulling his shirt up just enough to make it visible.