Tomorrow We Rise (The Killing Sands Book 2)

by Daniel P. Wilde

  I kept walking for a few more days. In each town I passed I tried to find food to eat and to take with me. I believed I was going south because of the way the sun was coming up on my left side and setting on my right side. I went that direction on purpose because, while I was standing there naked in front of all those people, they were talking about a colony in Mexico where there was supposed to be lots of people alive. All I heard was that it was supposed to be on the coast of the Gulf of Mexico near a town called Cabo Rojo. If I had any tech, I would have looked it up and downloaded maps. I think I can find it though, but it might take me forever. But that’s where I’m going since I’ve already been dragged so far by the losers that kidnapped me.

  After a few days of walking, I got to an old border checkpoint, or at least that’s what it looked like. I remember learning about the Mexico-USA border problems in school. I think I crossed into Mexico. So, today I’ve been walking southeast.

  The road I’m on didn’t have any houses or buildings for a long time. It’s really the middle of nowhere. But, tonight, I finally came to a little town. I don’t know its name, but I broke into a nicer house that had a fridge full of food and a computer. I’m using the computer to write this message.

  I want you to come find me dad, but I don’t know where I am. I do know where I want to go though. I’m headed, hopefully, to Cabo Rojo. I’m going to find a hovercraft and try to fly it. It will have a mapping system. So, I could be to Cabo Rojo within a few days probably. Come find me there dad! I love you!

  Later—Web post: Dr. Steven Porter

  Son, I’m so glad you are alive!!! I’ve been at the Sorenson’s house for four days, not knowing where to go to search for you, hoping and praying that you would contact me. I’ll be packing up now and leaving in a few minutes. Wherever you are, I’ll find you, even if it means I have to go all the way to Cabo Rojo.

  May 27, 2093—Shift

  “I can’t believe we’ve been out here for six days already and haven’t seen a single living person,” I said during dinner tonight. We arrived in Ottawa last night after traveling slowly and exploring methodically along the way.

  Strangely, we’ve found seven separate farms with edible animals and vaccinated all of them. It’s strange because there are animals alive, but not humans. Throughout history, plagues often began with animals and then spread to humans. But here, it’s been reversed and the animals aren’t dying as quickly as the humans. There’s probably some explanation, but I’m more interested in the fact that we may have meat in the future, if we survive.

  “Yeah, it’s bummin’ me out,” Street said, as he stuffed another bite of canned corn into his mouth.

  “What’s the latest on Churchill,” Anta asked.

  “Mike thinks the people are doing just fine,” I replied. “Otherwise, if they were dying, the guys would send us up there post haste. No more of this dilly-dallying.”

  “Oh, is that what we’re doing? Dilly-dallying?” Anta teased.

  “Funny. You know what I mean.”

  During a conference with Mike and several of the people at the bunker a few minutes ago, I learned that original estimates of life in Churchill were likely much too high. Their satellite visuals are very poor in the area due to dense cloud cover and the remote location of the area. Plus, most people in the world still alive are not likely outside moving around, but instead, hoping for a signal or word to arrive that vaccinations are on the way. Estimates are now closer to 300–350 living rather than the previous estimate of as many as 1,500. But they don’t think people are sick.

  “Has Mike been able to get in touch with anyone up there yet?” Anta asked.

  “No. They’ve tried to contact people up there over and over, with no luck.”

  Thankfully, even though the world’s population has crashed, electronic systems are up and running as if nothing has happened. Technological advancements have allowed for the automated running of systems which, until the 2040s and 2050s had to be maintained by human hands and minds. This is a wonderful situation of which we hope to take advantage. Of course, communication systems can, and do, still crash, and can be tampered with and shut down. But that hasn’t happened and now there is really no person alive to screw anything up . . . we hope.

  But even with technology running smoothly, and Mike and others like him around the world broadcasting day and night through every avenue available, nobody in Churchill has responded.

  The message being sent informs people that a vaccine has been created. It urges them to stay indoors and contact a central communication databank, developed by Mike, with locations and other information which will help us to locate and vaccinate.

  Over the past 6 days, the databank has recorded the locations of only 1,236 living people, all very far away from us—mostly in Africa and Asia. Of course, it’s still early in the game and certainly many more will log on as they learn of the databank’s existence, or happen upon it accidentally. Once a person has logged on, he or she is instructed to update their situation daily. If a person fails to update daily, they will be presumed sick or dead and no contact will be attempted.

  May 29—Web post: Jon Porter

  Dad, I’m sorry it’s been so long—again. I got your message today. I probably would’ve got it sooner, but there was no data access along my route after my last post, until I got here. Whatever town I was in last time I messaged you had data, but not the other towns along my road to Cabo Rojo. I didn’t know that was even possible. Must be like the ancient times when you were a kid. :-)

  I found a hover and learned how to fly it. It wasn’t very hard. The mapping system took me right to Cabo Rojo. After a few hours searching along the beach, I found the “secret” bunker. I found some information about the bunker on the web, while I was traveling in the hover. I learned that there was a secret password for access to the bunker; but I couldn’t find out what the password was. When I got here, I could see cameras. I stood in front of them for like four hours or something, waving and yelling, trying to get the attention of anybody inside.

  Finally, the door opened. It sounded like tons of locks were being opened from the inside. When the door opened, I heard and felt a swoosh of air, and then a little girl fell forward. I barely caught her as she fell. She had blood coming from her mouth and nose and she kept coughing—just like all the other people that are dead now. I was scared to have her so close to me, but I began to think about all the people who had coughed on me, or breathed on me over the past few months, and I never got sick. So, I pulled her inside and shut the door.

  I hope you’re on your way here because everybody that was here is dead. The girl, named Rosa, is only 9 years old and is the last person alive here (that’s what she told me anyway). She’s able to talk, but just barely, and her English isn’t that good. There aren’t any translation pads around that I can see. Good thing we lived in Nevada and half my friends spoke Spanish.

  Anyway, Rosa told me that there were lots of people here, and they weren’t letting anyone else in after the news said that so many people were sick. But a small group of people convinced someone to let them in a few days ago. One of them must have been sick because everybody started getting sick and dying. I’ve wondered if that was maybe the people from the hotel a few days ago.

  I’ve been trying to help Rosa for the last few hours, but she looks like she won’t live very long. It’s stinks in here and I haven’t even explored this place. It seems huge. It’s mostly underground I think, and right on the edge of the Gulf of Mexico. But I haven’t left this room at the entrance because I’ve been trying to learn all I can from Rosa. When she dies, I’ll look around, but I’m nervous. I don’t know what I’ll find. At least it’s not dark. It seems like all the electrical stuff is working. I’m going to look for a phone or a holo. How can I contact you to give you coordinates?

  May 30—Anta

  We were just com’d by Dr. Porter. He found his son! They’re both in some kind of bunker in Mexico, on the Gulf. They�
�re safe, apparently, and he thinks his son must be immune. Apparently, he’s been in close physical contact with a lot of sick people and hasn’t caught the disease himself. Dr. Porter will be working with Dr. Shevchuk to see whether giving the vaccination to his son could cause any harm in the event his son is immune. Great news!

  After our com, I told Shift how I thought any family with more than one survivor is very lucky. He reminded me that I’m in one of those families. The reminder hit me hard. I have been so lucky, or blessed, or whatever in my life. Now, when the entirety of the world has perished, not only am I still alive, but so is my brother.

  While I’m not optimistic that I’ll ever see Hasani again, it is remarkable to think that I am one of the lucky ones—if only losing half of one’s family makes one “lucky”.

  I’ve been thinking a great deal lately about the future of our world. It appears that those of us still alive should be able to survive, at least for a while. But unless we can band together with other survivors, it will be difficult to maintain our prior way of life, or anything like it. While some of the brightest minds on our planet have survived—in our bunker and others—are there any people still alive who know how to farm, or maintain electrical grids, or fix machines, or any of the other skills necessary to sustain a society? I hope so. Otherwise, we’re in trouble, again.

  June 3, 2093—Holographic meeting with the bunker

  “We’re here guys!” Street said.

  “How many people?” Mike asked, nearly shouting. The anxiety in his voice betrayed his emotions.

  “Well,” Shift replied, slowly, “there are 131 people alive.”

  “No.” Mike looked sick. He sat down, hard, and put his face in his hands.

  “Mike,” Shift said. “Mike, listen to me.”

  Mike looked up, ghostly white, with tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

  “There’s 131 people here alive! You did that! You found this place and watched it. You sent us here, of all places. You’re the reason we got here in time to find anybody alive at all!”

  Several people murmured assent. John put his hand on Mike’s shoulder and squeezed.

  “So, Anthrax E reached Churchill?” Dr. Shevchuk said quietly, almost to himself.

  “Yes, it did,” replied Anta, “but more recently than most of the world, thankfully. We’ve been told that people started to die only six days ago. Mike, you couldn’t see people dying. You were right to have us looking everywhere along the way. How would we all feel if we missed someone in one of those towns? This isn’t your fault. We found 131 people Mike! Think of that. That’s 131 people who, hopefully, will live to help us save the world.”

  “That’s right, dude,” Shift added. “If you hadn’t done your job, and hadn’t found this place and tracked it so closely, there would be nobody alive here. We’ve vaccinated every one of them. The only problem is that some of them already show signs of contamination.”

  “That’s something we’ve been discussing here,” John said. “We don’t know, because there is no test data to tell us, whether any of those already contaminated will live. But we’re all alive, and we were all contaminated before we were immunized. So there’s hope.”

  “That’s right,” replied Dr. Shevchuk. “I think you four should stay there and see what happens. We need to know whether vaccinating someone who is already sick will do any good. I know it’s terrible to think about, but we shouldn’t be wasting precious medicine on those who cannot benefit from it. We have a finite supply. Some of the material utilized to create the vaccine cannot be machined. Some of it is living organism which must be harvested. I don’t have any more.”

  “Okay, we’ll stay here for a few more days until we can determine who is going to live,” Shift said. “But tell us what to look for. We need to know what information to provide you.”

  “Well, it’s rather simple really,” Dr. Shevchuk said. “Just document who was vaccinated, how long they had felt sick before inoculation, any transformations or problems seen following the injections, who dies, if any, and when they die. I’ll send you a detailed list of other physical signs to look for when we’re done here.

  “What we want to be able to do is determine if, at any point, it is too late to vaccinate. It may be that they can be sick for a couple of days and still live. Obviously, the vaccination is not a cure. If a body has gone too far in the stages of decomposition, there’s no turning back. So I suspect that anybody who has been sick for more than a couple of days will not live. It’s your job to help us find out.”

  “By the way,” Street said, “on our way up here, we saw three polar bears, all together. A couple of young ones, probably with their mother. It was awesome!”

  “Did you go vaccinate them?” John asked, smiling.

  “Uhhh, no,” Street replied. “We’re not idiots.”

  “That’s important news, Street, and definitely awesome,” Dr. Shevchuk said. “As you know, while most animals, including mammals, can be infected by Anthrax E, it’s still unclear which animals, apart from saltwater fish and other marine animals, are hearty enough to survive.”

  “Well, so far, at least three polar bears are alive!” Street looked happy, like a small child at the zoo.

  June 10—Shift

  “I’m sorry to be so blunt, but what’s the final tally Shift?” John asked.

  “63,” I replied, solemnly.

  “Actually dead, or dying?”

  “Dead or showing progressive symptoms.”

  Of the 131 people we vaccinated against Anthrax E, only 68 will live, or at least, we hope that many will live. Dr. Shevchuk has determined that the death rate has more to do with the advancement of the disease within a body at the time of inoculation than it has to do with the vaccination itself. I’m sure he’s right. Upon our arrival in Churchill, 71 of the 131 people already presented with varying degrees of illness—coughing, blood, headaches, etc. Dr. Shevchuk had theorized, and will now likely conclude that once the actual signs of illness have set in, particularly after the initial 24 hours, chances of survival are very low.

  But, just because a person has been infected doesn’t mean that person will die. While 71 people showed signs of illness, certainly many others had been infected by Anthrax E, but just hadn’t become symptomatic yet. Of the 63 who have died since our arrival, or are close to death, 62 of them already showed signs of illness at the time of their vaccination.

  “So, are you ready to get out of there?” John asked.

  “We’re leaving in the morning,” I said. “We’ll be leaving the three extra hovers here and just taking the Fluxor. And we’re not taking anybody else with us either. When we first got here, we had considered taking at least one of the extra hovercraft back with us in case we had a breakdown or something. But we’ve learned that because roads are so scarce and automotive vehicles aren’t really needed here, there are only a handful of vehicles of any type. Only two of them have long-term travel capacity. So we’ve just decided to leave all the extra hovercraft in Churchill for their future use, for whatever purpose and need may arise.”

  “That’s probably a good idea. Have you and Mike talked about where to go next?” John asked.

  “Yup. He’s sending us southeast, around the coast of Hudson Bay. He’s going to have us stop at all of the small towns along the way. I think he hopes there will be other towns that were insulated from the disease, like Churchill was.”

  “I hope so too,” John said, sincerely. “AE’s a bitch.”

  “AE?” I asked.

  “Oh yeah,” John replied, “Mike started calling Anthrax E ‘AE’ a couple days ago. He thinks it sounds cooler and it’s definitely easier to say.”

  “Sure, I guess,” I said. “Maybe it will catch.”

  “Ultimately,” I continued, “our goal is to reach Quebec and then Nova Scotia within a week. Of course, the timing depends on who we meet along the way, if anybody. Luckily, we won’t have to stick around after vaccinations, like we did here.
We have the data. We know it works. Now we’re going to speed up the process.”

  “Sounds like a good plan,” John said. “So, do you want to know the latest on the Toronto folks?”

  “Yeah, but let me get the others in here first. Hold on.”

  It took me a few minutes to find the others. Anta and Angel were packing up and saying goodbye to some of the folks here in Churchill. Street was at the bar, but thankfully, not drunk.

  “Okay John, we’re all here,” I said into the MEHD after I’d gathered Street, Anta and Angel together.

  “Hi everyone,” John said. “I wanted to give you an update on what’s happening with the Toronto people. As you know, 12 of them were inoculated 19 days ago. 18 days ago, eight of those people left their bunker to begin searching for survivors. Four traveled southwest toward Detroit; two traveled west along the U.S.-Canadian border; and two went northwest toward Alaska. You know all of that already.

  “Last we heard, two days ago, those three teams combined had vaccinated 141 people—in two and a half weeks. Of those 141 people, 113 survived the next 24 hours.”

  “Wow,” Anta said, “That’s pretty good odds. Do we know how many of those 141 people were already infected?”

  “Yes, we do,” John replied. “33 of them already showed symptoms. So, of those 33, 28 died. The Toronto bunker didn’t keep real precise records, but it appears that most of those 28 had already been symptomatic for at least 24 hours. So, as we had predicted a couple of days ago, if we can get to people within 24 hours of the first physical signs of illness, the person has a good chance of surviving.”

  “John,” Anta said, “you told us a few days ago that the Toronto group was handing out vaccines to those already inoculated, and sending them out too. Is that still happening?”