by Riley Flynn
“It spread so quickly,” muttered Timmy. “Here today, gone tomorrow. I remember seeing the President on TV and next day it was everywhere. All gone overnight.”
Joan was shaking her head. Finn, wondering why she had stopped the petting, nuzzled at her knee. He knew better than to rub up against the bump in her belly. Intuition, perhaps.
“I remember that speech,” Joan said. “It all felt so hollow. I don’t know what either of you were doing, but we were already suffering in Rockton. By that point, I’d already caught it and was recovering. But no one I called wanted to hear about it. And then I remember hearing the address on the radio. There wasn’t a television in the drug store. They only gave me a radio, locked me up and forced me to tend to the others. It was spreading well before that.”
“Then how come we never heard about it?” said Timmy.
“I don’t think we heard anything explicitly about a virus,” said Alex, “but there was a lot of weirdness. People not turning up for work. I remember that.”
“That could have been anything though, man. Disease spreads this fast, there’s got to be a reason.”
“No, Alex is right,” said Joan. “At least, from what I know. From what we know.”
“Okay then, Miss, what exactly do we know?”
“Not much,” she admitted, head resting in her hands, “but a few bits and pieces. I’m not a doctor, obviously, but I studied pathogens and viruses in college.”
“You’re more informed than any of us,” said Alex, encouraging her.
“Okay. Then I can say this for sure: This virus – this Eko virus – it moves faster than any hemorrhagic fever previously known to man. We were receiving bulletins from the CDC in the run up, warning us about flu season. Way before we usually hear from any government about flu. Isolated cases, they mentioned, told us to keep an eye out. So, obviously, when I fell sick, no one told them. That would have been my job. Instead, the CDC just kept on sending out pamphlets. Emails. The usual. I don’t think they knew what was coming.”
“Or they didn’t care,” said Timmy. “Wouldn’t put it past them.”
“I’m not sure,” said Joan. “If the virus had an incubation period, say of ten days, perhaps, then they might not have been able to track the spread until it was too late. People would have been infected, would have been walking around without knowing, infecting one another. And then, all at once, the virus begins to reveal itself. Then it’s too late.”
“So you’re saying that if I drove from San Francisco to New Jersey, stopping in every truck stop along the way and coughing in everyone’s face, I could infect half the country without them even knowing?” asked Timmy, balancing his chin on his hand as though considering life, the universe, and everything else.
“Not quite. But close enough, I suppose. We just don’t have the data available. They didn’t release anything to the public.”
“I think,” Timmy mused, “with about five well-placed people, people carrying the infection, I could get half the country sick within a week. If it was up to me.”
“It’s not up to you,” said Alex. “Joan, do you know anything about who gets sick? Or how?”
She shook her head. “I have no idea. Everyone in Rockton lived so close together. It is – it was – a tight-knit community. Could be the air, could be the water. Could be both.”
“Fluoride in the water, man. Same old tricks. Get the water infected and you’ve got everyone.” Timmy was growing more animated, more certain.
“We don’t have any way of knowing for sure, then,” said Alex. “Not without more data.”
“Who needs data?” asked Timmy. “This was clearly deliberate. An attack. A bio-weapon. It’s too perfect.”
“Joan, please tell Timmy he’s wrong.”
Quietly, she sat very still. One hand absentmindedly stretched out, coddling the dog’s ears.
“Joan?”
“I can’t say for certain.” She stared into the distance. “He could even be right.”
“Hear that, man? I’m right.”
“Broken clocks, Timmy,” said Alex. “Besides, we don’t know anything for certain.”
“Bet it was the government,” Timmy continued. “The president was shook. Scared witless. Those deep state guys, they could have taken him down right away. Done the whole country before he even knew.”
“But why?” asked Alex. “Why would they do that? Surely someone like the Chinese or-”
“You don’t know what they’re capable of, man. All sorts. They do all sorts. We can’t trust them. Probably working with the Chinese. Or the Chinese deep state, probably.”
“This is all conjecture,” announced Joan, sitting up straight. “We really don’t know. Not yet.”
“Not yet?” Alex was curious.
“Well, we do have something. It could be something, anyway. Where did you put that flash drive, those documents we took from the agency guys and the gang members?”
Alex knew immediately what she was talking about. Two small black storage drives. Old-style USB drives, but bigger. Could be extra security on them, he remembered thinking at the time, tech hadn’t been this big and clumsy for decades.
“In the car,” said Alex. “In the bottom of one of the bags.”
“There could be information on those. The paperwork was in code, I know that.”
“Could be nothing,” countered Alex. “We have no way of knowing. No computer. No electricity. They’re just dead weight right now.”
“Could be deliberately misleading info,” said Timmy. “You know, to throw us off the trail. Yeah, real deep state style. I bet that’s what it is. I need to see what’s on there. Right now.”
“Impossible. Sorry.”
“I’m gonna take a look anyway.” Timmy stood up, walked swiftly across the room, and left. Finn watched him for a moment and then followed. Alex turned to Joan.
“You really buy all that stuff he says? Manufactured diseases?”
Turning to look Alex in the face, Joan locked his gaze. That single gray eye, so drained of color in contrast to its partner, stared deep into his soul.
“I really don’t know, Alex. I wish I could dismiss it. I would have, in the past. But now? I just don’t know.”
“I know the feeling,” admitted Alex. “I don’t even know what’s real anymore. Everything seems just fake, like a giant piece of theatre. Only no one told us. Maybe they’ll jump out of nowhere soon, point up at the cameras and tell us that we’ve been on TV this whole time.”
“That’d be nice,” Joan admitted, beginning to clear the plates from the table. “I never wanted to be on TV.”
“Me neither. Might take it over this, though.”
Carrying the breakfast plates to the sink, Joan looked back over her shoulder.
“But then, how would you know who you really are, Mr. Alex Early?”
He sat and watched her wash the dishes, lost in the answer. An easy way to lose a day, dwelling on the unknown. But he had that kind of time to waste these days. All the time in the world.
Chapter 8
The cabin looked different in the full light of day. The way the light reflected on the plastic floor, the way it crept in through every unplugged hole in the wall, the way the crispness of the outside air seeped inside and swirled around. Constantly, the cabin reminded Alex how far he was from civilization, away from the brick and mortar settings he knew well.
As Joan washed the dishes and Timmy slunk around the kitchen bothering her, Alex wondered. Even the noises – the sounds that went bump in the night – bothered him. The great unknown. There could be anything out there, beyond mountain lions and sleeping bears. Not understanding was worse than anything. Alex felt his feet itch, wanting to go out and explore.
“I’m going out for another check,” he announced. “You two are staying here.”
“On your own?” Joan responded, taking the statement as a question. “You don’t want someone with you?”
“Either I go on my o
wn, or I leave one of you on your own. We can’t all just stay together the whole time. We need to check things out. Keep vigilant.”
The look on Joan’s face said it all. She wasn’t convinced. But Alex didn’t want to be cooped up in the cabin anymore. There was too much outside, even if there was nothing there. Too much nothing. He had to check it out. The not knowing was beginning to make him anxious.
“I’ll be quicker on my own. Faster. I’ll cover more ground. Just a quick check round the perimeter and then I know we can take it easy.”
Joan’s face hadn’t wavered. Timmy didn’t seem to mind, though.
“It’ll be fine,” Alex told her. “Just keep an eye on the dog.”
Timmy rolled around the room, dropping to the floor and pushing Finn away. Knowing when he was playing, the dog jumped back and bounced on top of the man, injuries forgotten. Even with a mouthful of dog fur, Timmy could be understood.
“I got him, bossman, don’t you worry. Come here, boy.”
Alex left them alone. Taking up the rifle, which leaned against the entrance like an old umbrella, he stepped out into the daylight.
Perhaps it was the rest but the gun felt lighter. Even standing on the porch, the stock held firmly in his hand, Alex noticed a difference. Not one of Timmy’s more spectacular pieces, but it had a charm all of its own.
He had come to rely on this gun in particular. When Timmy had been sick, laid up in an apartment in Rockton, this was the rifle he’d taken down the riverbed out back and taught himself how to shoot.
It felt familiar now, even if there were other, better options. The scope might not see the farthest, the recoil might be a little jarring. But Alex felt acquainted with this rifle. He knew its limits and it reminded him of his own.
Shooting in the gully back in Rockton had been worth it. Even if they’d burned through a fair bit of ammo, he now felt acquainted with the gun. There was a surge of confidence which rushed through his fingers whenever he held the rifle. Besides, they still have plenty of bullets. Boxes of them. Thank God Timmy had stocked up properly.
He slipped the strap over his shoulder. It tied to the butt of the rifle and the stock, holding the barrel upright while walking. Do safety standards really matter now? Alex thought to himself, knowing Timmy would scold him if he ever voiced that concern aloud.
No mistaking the fall weather; the sun seemed cold.
With no hint of a breeze, the whole forest stood still. Watching. Waiting.
Standing on the porch, Alex realized how little visibility he actually had. Aside from the road up to the cabin, the trees around the perimeter soon became so thick that he could hardly see the length of a football field. Even now, as the leaves were falling, the cabin was well-hidden.
The gray sky was stretching overhead. In the clearing where the cabin sat, the air above opened up. It was an oasis in a desert of undressed trees, the one spot where there was a single, unbroken view of the sky.
Alex could see the sky through the holes in the porch roof. They ranged from small fingernail gaps to spaces the size of a palm or a manhole cover. These had been invisible in the dark. As the porch stretched the length of the long side of the cabin, there was plenty of roof to puncture.
There were also the logs. The kitchen had a small fireplace. A stone chimney broke the shallow-angled roofline. At one end of the porch, beneath a shelf, sat a stack of logs ready to be burned. Not the full complement, Alex noticed. The sun-stained shapes and the missing patches of moss gave it away.
Still, there was enough for a few days. But would the chimney smoke attract unwanted guests? He’d ask Timmy.
A speck of white caught Alex’s eye. Buried in the log heap, even from ten feet away the color stood out. Walking across, he could see it was a newspaper. Not the yellow, aged kind of paper from way back when. This was recent.
Alex pulled on the corner and the entire fold came loose. A headline: EKO VIRUS SWEEPS WEST COAST and a date from three weeks ago. Someone had brought the paper here. They’d left it behind. Abandoned it.
Right away, Alex picked up his head and looked around. The empty forest stared back. There was no one here. Not right now. But there had been. Satisfied that he was alone, he turned his attention back to his newspaper, allowing the sudden rush of adrenaline to dissolve in his bloodstream, his heart slowing its galloping charge.
Trying to read through the article, Alex was annoyed. The reader had taken a ball point pen and scribbled out so many of the words. It wasn’t just a noun here, a verb there. At times, the reader seemed so incensed that entire sentences and paragraphs had been eliminated. It was like this all through the paper. FAKE NEWS, the self-imposed editor had scrawled across the front-page photograph of a doctor trying to administer drugs to a patient.
Alex threw the paper back on the log pile. In the back of his mind, the stories reminded him of the articles he had been reading in his office. There was a connection there, even if it felt like reaching back into another world. But this newspaper offered him nothing new, annoyingly. It might be useful to start a fire. No one had checked the ashes in the fireplace, he realized. Still learning on the job. Still learning how to stay alive. First, check the perimeter, he thought, then go back and check the fire.
Again, he heard noises away in the distance. If last night it had been owls, they should have been asleep during the day. But it sounded too small to be a bear. Perhaps a fox. Or a coyote. Maybe the injured cougar coming to take revenge. Even growing up in Virginia, he didn’t know what lived in these woods.
The farm, sure. Plenty of animals there.
But the woods were another world.
All the more reason to investigate, Alex told himself. They should know – he needed to know – what was out here, what was watching and waiting for them. He didn’t want a repeat of the night before. Even if it was the mountain lion, he should put it out of its misery. Had that been a mistake? Probably not as much as chasing off into the dark after a wounded creature. There were no easy answers anymore, no simple solutions.
The farther he walked from the cabin, the stranger the woods became. After walking a hundred paces, he turned to check behind him and could barely spot the building, so dense were the trees. A low rumbling sound, like heavy machinery or a tall waterfall, sat on the edge of hearing.
There had been a person in the cabin. Recently, Alex reminded himself. But they weren’t there anymore. No signs, no tracks, no evidence of a person left behind, all apart from the scribbled-in newspaper. Perhaps there was a bear in the woods. Perhaps the bear had enjoyed one last, large meal before hibernating. Maybe the cougar got him.
Walking through the forest, stepping this way and that, Alex realized how high up the cabin was placed. This helped. Taking a large loop around the area outside, he noticed that the land began to drop off in every direction. When he wanted to return, he simply needed to walk up the hill.
The ground was hard, in need of a few days’ rain. Cold and firm, no friend to the walker. Leaves, as they dipped and fell from the branches, gathered around the tree roots and lay flat across the terrain. Every possible path was hidden beneath the amber, golden patchwork.
It should have been silent. It should have been quiet.
Alex couldn’t help but notice the noise. Perhaps it was the result of being so alone and so isolated out here. Every sound grew in importance, became that much louder simply because there was no competing ambience.
Detroit had never been silent, Alex remembered, but the streets could feel quiet. He had been used to everything, the familiarity of the soundscape. Out here, every rustle or clap was something new, something strange.
After half an hour of walking, Alex found himself standing above a sharp drop. The ground slipped away, falling down at an acute angle and ending in a single road. This tarmacked route snaked through the forest, picking its way between hills and trees. It was empty.
This wasn’t the way they’d approached the cabin. It was an entirely different, unconnect
ed road. Standing up on the bank, Alex couldn’t tell. They had driven up here in the dark. At night, one road looked much like another. For the first time since stepping out of the car, he was reminded that other people might intrude on their seclusion. The cabin might not be as isolated as it appeared.
As the thought snuck into his mind, Alex crouched slightly. His eyes scanned the tree line. He held his breath. But he was alone. Alone but for his own paranoia. He kept whispering the words to himself, as quietly as he could: You’re alone. There’s no one else here. Take it easy. Be careful.
Determined to find out where the road led, Alex walked along the top of the slope, staying back behind the cover of the trees. Winding his way through the woods, keeping half an eye on the asphalt and half an ear on the sounds of the forest, he allowed his thoughts to wander.
He had a great deal to think about.
The entire conversation with Timmy and Joan was important, he knew, but also a dead end. Questions about the Eko virus, about how quickly it had spread, and about where it had come from, they were significant. But answers were impossible to conjure out of thin air. They needed information. Data. Evidence. Perhaps this was on the flash drives they’d recovered, but – until they found a computer – they could never know.
That didn’t stop Alex from having his own theories. The world was too fractured, too precarious, he thought. The chances of a virus be unleashed at this moment in time, just as the electronics across the world shut down in tandem? For weeks, he hadn’t seen a single person with a phone, a tablet, or a computing device. No one except the agents.
The Eko virus seemed to be too wrapped up in all of this to be a coincidence. A cruel prank from an uninterested god, perhaps. But that’s not how the world worked, Alex thought. Everything was interconnected. Every action is a reaction. This virus could trace its roots somewhere else. They just had to find out where.
By far the most important question, the one Alex diligently refused to ask, was how he had not gotten sick. Over the last few weeks, most of America seemed to have succumbed to this disease. He’d seen his best friend fall ill. Joan had been sick, too. Many hundreds, thousands, millions more had died. But not Alex Early.