by M. D. Massey
Joshua walks up and falls into the chair next to me.
“How’s your family?”
“Not good.” He shakes his head. “My mom and brother are sick. So far Dad doesn’t have any symptoms, though. Hopefully he’s at least immune.”
“I’m sorry, Joshua.” I pat his arm.
He looks like a giant kid in that chair. All slumped over with his gangly legs stretched out in front of him. If only there was something I could say to make him feel better.
“Sorry, man,” Axl says, standing up.
He’s finished skinning the poor animals and has the spit securely through their bodies. He sets it over the fire and adds a few more pieces of wood, no doubt trying to get the flame a little higher. His hands are covered in blood.
“You’re good at this,” I say, staring at his hands.
He tries to wipe them off on an old shirt, but it doesn’t exactly do the trick.
I grab a bottle of water and hold it out to him. “Here, clean your hands off.”
“Don’t waste water on your hands!” Angus shouts.
I roll my eyes. “It’s not a big deal. We’ll just save the bottles and refill them next time we stop somewhere. In the bathroom sink or something. Free.”
Angus crosses his arms. “You sure you’re blonde?” I give him the finger, and he smiles. “Anytime, Sugar Tits.”
He makes my skin crawl, but at least he’s started joking with me a little bit. It’s gross and awkward, but it’s better than the evil glares he was giving me before. And it got me my gun back. I guess he sees me as one of them, now that we have a few wealthy, educated people in our group.
Trey and Parvarti walk up. She’s so tiny next to him; she only comes up to his chest.
“Your folks okay?” Axl asks.
Trey nods. “So far.”
There are only two empty chairs. Parvarti takes one of them, which leaves Trey standing. Axl kneels next to the other one, and I don’t think Trey wants to rock the boat.
“Take a seat, man,” Axl says, tilting his head toward the chair. “I’m cookin’.”
Trey sits down and studies us, chewing on his bottom lip. “I’ve been thinking about this virus thing, and I think you guys may be overreacting. I get it. Things may be rough for a bit, but you’re acting like this is the breakup of our society.” He shakes his head. “I just don’t think it’s going to be that bad. Even if only fifteen percent of the population survives, that’s still got to be somewhere around forty million people, give or take. That’s nowhere near the end of the world.”
He has a point, right? That’s a hell of a lot of people. But… “Okay, say that’s true. Say forty million people survive this thing. How many people in the government?”
He shrugs. “We have no way of knowing that.”
“Exactly,” I say. “So even if half the people in authority positions survive, which is being generous, how long before they can figure out who is actually in charge?”
He bites into his lip harder. “Weeks, maybe months.”
“And what happens in the meantime?” Parvarti asks.
“Chaos.” Axl turns the spit. “Anarchy. Lootin’ for supplies, killin’ for survival. Anything goes.”
I nod. “So by the time the government gets its act together we’ve lost how many more people? Not to mention how spread out everyone will be.”
“What will folks do about work and money? Who’s gonna tell us all that?” Angus pipes in.
Trey swallows and sits back. He frowns and stares into the fire. He probably doesn’t love being out-thought by a couple rednecks and a piece of trailer trash.
“Okay,” he says. “But we still have forty million people.”
“Sure. And a hell of a mess to clean up. We just passed two bodies today out in the middle of nowhere. Imagine what the cities are going to be like. Eighty-five percent of the population dropping like that—” I snap my fingers. “It’s going to be a while before things get even close to being normal again. Maybe never.”
“A new kind of normal,” Joshua says. “Makes you wish you weren’t immune.” He slumps down and stares at the ground like he wishes it would swallow him whole.
Something else I hadn’t thought about. The people who won’t be able to deal.
9
I wake up shivering, and just opening my eyes makes my temples pulse.
It’s still dark outside, and the rhythmic breathing of the others fills the tent. My head pounds with every breath they let out. I swallow and wince. My throat is tight and raw, and my lips dry. I press a shaky hand to my forehead. My hands are cold and clammy, but my face is on fire.
I’m sick. I’m going to die.
My body trembles and tears pool in my eyes. I’m not going to make it to her.
I roll onto my side. Every tiny movement hurts, deep in my bones. Even laying still is painful. I ache from head to toe. Axl is next to me, sleeping soundly. Should I wake him?
I reach under the jacket I’m using as a pillow in search of my phone. My head pounds like my brain pulsates. When I finally find it, I press the button and the screen lights up. It’s almost six. The sun should be coming up soon. I look back at Axl. Every inch of my body aches with fever. I can’t wait.
“Axl,” I whisper. I reach out and gently touch his hand.
His eyes fly open, and he half sits up. When his gaze meets mine in the darkness, he lays back down. His eyes flutter shut. “What?” he mumbles.
“I’m sick.” I say it as quietly as possible. I don’t want to bother anyone else.
His eyes open again. Slowly this time. But he’s wide awake now. “What’s wrong?”
A small sob breaks out of my chest, burning on the way up. I shake my head. “My head is pounding, my throat is sore, my body aches all over.” I swallow and cough slightly. “I’m not immune.”
He frowns and even in the darkness his eyes give him away. He’s thinking of himself, and Angus. But he doesn’t say it out loud.
He sits up and grabs his shoes, pulling them on. “Can you walk?”
I nod and climb out from under the blanket, wincing. It’s like someone is digging their fingers into my temples and the base of my skull. Every move makes the pressure mount. I get to my feet, but my legs quiver and the world spins. I have to sit back down.
Axl unzips the tent and steps out. He turns back and holds his hand out to me. I crawl toward him on unstable limbs. When I reach the opening, he bends down and picks me up, swinging me into his arms like I weigh nothing. It hurts. Everything hurts. I lay my head on his shoulder and close my eyes. He smells like the outdoors. Just like his flannel shirt did last night when he let me wear it.
“Damn, you’re burnin’ up.”
He sets me in a chair next to the fire. The air is chilly, like a cold front settled in while I was asleep. I shiver so hard my teeth chatter. I open my eyes. Trey is by the fire.
He frowns and watches me closely with his hands shoved in his pockets. “What’s going on?”
Axl takes his shirt off and lays it over me. It’s the same flannel shirt he gave me before. “She’s sick.”
Now he wears nothing but a white undershirt. It’s dirty. Someone should wash his clothes. Maybe I can do it later. I close my eyes for a brief second, trying to clear my head. Nothing makes sense.
I open my eyes and they meet Trey’s. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. He knows I’m dead.
“Where’s the Doc?”
“Sleepin’,” Axl says, heading over to the Nissan.
“Don’t you think you should get him?” Trey doesn’t take his eyes off me.
“He’ll be up soon. Got to get her somethin’ for the fever.”
I’m still shivering, and every shake hurts. My head, my bones, my throat. I close my eyes because Trey won’t stop staring at me.
“Take these,” Axl says.
I open my eyes. He’s back in front of me like he never walked away. He has a bottle of water in one hand and some pills i
n the other.
“Open your mouth.”
I do what he says, and he puts a couple pills on my tongue. His stormy eyes meet mine as he lifts the bottle to my lips and gently pours a little in my mouth. I wince when the pills go down. They feel like nails against my swollen throat.
“Do you need a blanket?” He’s being so gentle. Not gruff like usual.
I nod. The movement makes my head pound even more. I can’t believe how awful I feel; I felt fine when I laid down last night. A little more tired than usual, but not sick.
Axl lays the blanket over me. I’m so glad this camp chair reclines now. So thankful Axl and Angus robbed those convenience stores.
I try to sleep, but it doesn’t work. I drift in and out, but it’s more like delirium. Voices float around me, but nothing they say makes sense. Hands touch my face. Some boiling hot, some icy cold. Someone sings. It sounds like a little girl.
“Emily,” I whisper.
“Vivian, put this under your tongue.”
I don’t know who’s saying it or why, but I obey.
“How bad is it?”
“Not good.”
I open my eyes. Everyone stands around, staring at me. Either the sun is coming up or the fire is really bright, because everything is orange. But dark at the same time.
I close my eyes and lay my head back down. I can’t stop shaking.
The next time I wake up I’m in the car. I don’t know how I got here, but the sun is up now, and it’s insanely bright. Squinting, I put a trembling hand to my head. I’m drenched in sweat and my head still throbs. Every inch of my body is moist with perspiration, but I can’t stop shivering. Every movement hurts. Every bounce of the car, every twitch of my muscles.
A hand touches my forehead, and I look up. Axl is next to me. My head is in his lap.
“How you feel?” He still has the same non-nonsense tone, but it’s so much gentler than before.
That first night we spent together by the fire crosses my mind, and my insides constrict. We’re so much alike. I hope he doesn’t get the virus from me.
Shaking my head, I try to talk, but it comes out as a cough. I swallow—a difficult thing to do—and try again. “I’m sorry.” The words scratch their way from my throat.
He frowns. “Why?”
“Because you may get sick from me.” Talking hurts more than breathing.
He shakes his head. “Don’t be dumb. If we were gonna get sick, it would’ve happened either way.” He pauses and frowns again. “I’m sorry you won’t get to see your daughter.”
Tears fill my eyes. I try to keep them in, but I can’t. They spill over, running down my cheeks. Leaving wet trails on my face.
Axl wipes them away. It’s not a gentle gesture. It’s brusque, just like he is. He leans forward just a bit, careful not to smother me. “Doc.”
I turn my head, trying hard to ignore the pain, just as Joshua looks back from the second row. Trey is next to him, but I can’t look his way. The look he gave me earlier is burned into my memory. It will probably be the last thing I see when I close my eyes to die.
“Vivian, how are you feeling?” Joshua asks.
“Awful,” I croak.
“Specifically. Is your throat sore?” I nod and he frowns. “Do your bones ache?” More nods, more frowns. “Headache?” Same.
“How long?” I whisper. More tears come to my eyes. I shouldn’t cry. I’m not leaving anything behind, not really. Just my daughter, and it’s not like she knows me. She won’t be affected by my death.
Joshua looks away. “Two days, maybe less.” His voice is flat, emotionless.
I start to cry again and I turn away from him.
“We need to stay.”
I open my eyes to an argument. The car isn’t moving anymore and I’m alone in the third row. I’m in just as much pain as I was when I fell asleep. Not that I expected to feel better.
“We need to get movin’.” It’s Angus, he sounds pissed.
“She’s in pain.” Axl, that same straightforward way of speaking. “Every bump in the road hurts her. She’s moanin’ in her sleep.”
“I can’t listen to it anymore.” Parvarti. Pleading. Her voice is high, kind of whiny. Angus is going to love that.
“Tell him, Doc.” Axl again. His voice has more emotion this time, it’s not as flat. Why is he so upset?
“When they’re getting close to the end, every movement hurts them. The closer she gets to death the more pain she’ll be in.” Joshua, his voice tense. I guess he’s seen too many people die the last few weeks. “If we keep driving, she’ll be screaming in agony by the end of the day.”
“Then she can stay here—alone. What’s the point of takin’ her with us anyhow? If she’s just gonna die?” Angus. The bastard.
“We. Ain’t. Leavin’. Her.” Axl. The emotion is gone. His voice is firm. Final.
Somewhere, deep inside my aching body, there’s a different kind of ache at his words. I’ve never had another person stick up for me like that. Never.
“Fine,” Angus growls.
I’m in a hotel room. A Best Western. That’s what the sign outside looked like, anyway. It’s dirty, but I don’t care. I’m shivering and my skin is sticky with perspiration. I’m in pain. Outside, the sun is setting. I’ll be dead in a day.
They only had two rooms available. Angus didn’t want to be anywhere near me, so he’s in the other one, along with Trey and Parvarti. Axl and Joshua stay with me. Although, it’s just Axl and me at the moment.
“You should drink somethin’,” he says for the millionth time.
My lips are cracked and painful. He’s right, but my throat is so inflamed it’s almost swollen shut.
“I’ll try,” I whisper. It hurts to breathe. I don’t want to drink any water, but he won’t stop saying it. This may be the only way to get him to shut up.
He helps me sit and tips the cup up to my lips. I sip the water and attempt to swallow it. It can’t be more than a tablespoon of liquid, but it’s difficult to get down. I cough and end up spitting some of it out. It dribbles down my chin and onto my shirt. I don’t care.
Axl pats my back. “Easy.” He helps me lay back down and sets the glass on the bedside table, staring down at me.
“You don’t have to stay,” I say. “I heard Angus. He’s right. I’m dead.”
A pained expression crosses his face. “We ain’t leavin’ you.” His voice is thick.
I close my eyes. This must be awful for them. Waiting to find out if they’re immune. One of them could be laying in this bed a couple of days from now. After I’m dead.
“Did Joshua say how long it would be before you and Angus knew?”
“Couple days.” He’s so blunt, unemotional.
How can he face his own death with so little fear? I can’t. It makes my body shake and my heart pound. I’ll be gone by the time they know for sure.
I look up into those stormy eyes of his. It doesn’t make sense why they’re so comforting.
I swallow and take a deep breath. It hurts to talk, but there are a few things I need to say. “If you make it to California, will you go see Emily for me?”
He frowns and his eyebrows pull together. “What would I say? She’s four.”
“I know. It’s just…” He’s right. It’s a stupid request. “Just lie to me.”
“‘Kay then. We’ll go see her.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, closing my eyes again. Just talking wears me out.
10
I shiver through the night, drifting in and out of sleep. Axl sleeps next to me in the bed. I doubt he gets much rest. He tries to get me to drink something, and he carries me to the bathroom when I have to go. I could walk—I think—but he won’t let me.
He’s gentle. Where did that come from?
I stare at a large hole in the curtain, watching the light go from a soft glow to a blinding yellow that hurts my eyes. I’m still shivering. I’m still sweating. My throat is inflamed. I will die today.
> My fever goes up and down. When the medicine kicks in, I can almost focus on the things around me. I can carry on a small conversation, take a few sips of water, and swallow the chicken broth Axl forces into my mouth. It all hurts, but I’m there. Present.
But when the fever comes back nothing makes sense. I have the same dream about Emily. She plays in a field, singing a silly song. She smiles at me. It’s so real…
I have other dreams too. Dreams about dead bodies being picked apart in tents, birds feasting on their eyes. I moan and thrash in my sleep, and Axl’s voice constantly breaks through the delirium. It’s so much more soothing in my dreams than it is in real life.
And Roger is there. Sometimes it’s his body in the tent, an eye missing, a bird sitting on his shoulder. But sometimes I’m back in that trailer while he stands over me. An empty bottle in one hand, a leather belt in the other. The leather on my bare skin stings when he hits me. I scream.
Axl always wakes me.
No one comes to the room but Joshua and Axl. Joshua checks my temperature and asks how I feel, but he doesn’t stay. He probably can’t stand to see me die. Maybe he’s just seen too much lately, or maybe it’s because he kind of knows me. Either way, he doesn’t hang out for long.
Axl never leaves my side. He’s always there. Always ready to get me some water or help me to the bathroom. He wipes my forehead with a cool washcloth. I’ve never had someone do that for me before.
The light through the hole in the curtains gets softer and I wait to die. But the sun sets and I hang on.
“I’ve never seen anyone make it this long.” Joshua stands over me with his arms crossed.
“Maybe it’s somethin’ else?” Axl suggests
Joshua’s back straightens and his arms drop to his sides. “Do you have a flashlight?”
“In the car.” Axl glances at me and frowns. “I’ll be right back.” His voice is soft, like he hates to leave me.
My eyes follow him out the door. Hope flickers inside me, like the tiny flame of a candle. Is it possible I caught something else? That in the middle of a killer virus sweeping the country, I somehow picked up a different bug?