The Salvation Plague | Book 1 |The Turning

by Masters, A. L.

  Before she fell back asleep, resting her head against one of the couch cushions, she wondered if she had just beaten the Russian Flu. She wondered if she was the only one in the office that had it.

  She hoped Jared was okay. It seemed silly that they didn’t have each other’s cell numbers.

  ◆◆◆

  Monday morning, Anna felt well enough to go to work. She was anxious to see if Jared was alright. The more she thought about it, the more she felt sure that she and her co-workers had been exposed to the flu. Whether it was the Russian Flu or not, it had been pretty bad, and she hoped they were all okay. There was no telling who had initially been exposed, or if more than one of them had.

  The reception desk was empty, which was a little unusual. The lights were on, and the screensaver was in motion on a nearby computer. Jill could be taking a quick potty break though, and she didn’t worry about it. Walking through the aisles, she noticed that a fair number of cubicles were empty. It was still early though, perhaps they just hadn’t gotten in yet.

  She took her lunch to the break room and saw Darla and Madeline seated at a table sipping coffee. They both looked a little ill. They were watching a cooking show on T.V. Anna put her meal in the fridge and went to walk back to her desk, before she left the kitchen she turned to the women. “Are you guys sick?”

  Darla looked over, lacking her usual suppressed manic energy. “We both had the flu this weekend,” was all she said.

  “I did too. It was bad. Do you know if anyone else was sick?” Anna asked.

  Darla just shook her head. Madeline never said a word. Anna went back to her desk and waited anxiously for Jared to show up. Time ticked by slowly, and before long an hour had passed. Anna would have liked to say that she got some work done, but she didn’t. She kept waiting to hear some smartass comment from Jared about calling in sick and going to Vegas or something. She was getting super worried about him and was seriously about to go hunt down his cell number. Maybe she could bribe Darla for it with a new microwave?

  She had cleared her inbox and beaten Solitaire five times before she heard the office door open. She scooted her chair back and peered into the hallway. Her heart leapt when she saw Jared. He looked completely fine.

  “You’re late!” she said, perhaps sounding a bit more like a nagging wife, or mother, than she intended.

  He looked around the nearly empty office and frowned. “My battery was dead. I had to get someone to jump it. Where is everyone? Where were you Friday? Why do you look like death on a stick? Did you bring me lunch?”

  “I don’t know, sick, thanks a lot, and yes,” she said to be a smartass. Now that he had shown up, she was relieved and feeling a bit more charitable toward him.

  “Whoa. Stop that, rewind, and feed it to me more slowly there, Motor Mouth,” he said, rolling his fingers in a backward motion.

  “Everyone is out sick, I think. I was sick Friday through Sunday. It was worse than anything I’ve had before. I think it was that Russian Flu thing. Yes, I brought you lunch. Did you get sick at all?”

  He shook his head no and studied her face for a moment before responding. “It got here fast. I guess it’s over now though. Should you go to the doctor? Do you think my lunch is contaminated?”

  “I’m fine now. Your lunch is probably contaminated. I didn’t even think of that.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll throw it in the microwave for about thirty minutes, it’ll be fine.” He really looked around then and took in the strangely quiet space. “It’s weird, huh? All these people gone…How are we going to do sales today?”

  “It was kind of creeping me out, having so many people out sick. It hasn’t ever been this empty here,” Anna confided to him. “Darla and Madeline are in the break room though. They were sick this weekend too.”

  He went and placed his things on his desk before pulling his chair to her cubicle. “Give me your phone,” he said, holding out a hand.

  “Why?”

  “Because I said so. Obey me, wife!” he said in an artificial baritone voice.

  Anna smirked and handed him her unlocked phone. She watched as he tapped repeatedly before handing it back to her. “There, now the next time you get sick you can text me, and I can call so you can tell me where you keep the index to the coding reports. I couldn’t find it while you were gone, and I missed out on getting so much work done.”

  “Uh huh, sure you did. It was on the corner of my desk,” she said flatly.

  “Well, gosh darn it…” he said, snapping his fingers. “I didn’t even think to check there.”

  “You are impossible,” she scoffed. She took a sip of water and they were silent for a minute. A somewhat rare phenomenon for them.

  He turned serious then and learned toward her with his elbows on his knees. “Seriously though, Buttercup. Next time you get sick, text me… I’ll need to know if I should bring my own lunch to work.”

  “You’re an ass!” she said before spinning around and rolling back to her desk.

  “That is verbal abuse. I won’t tolerate that from any work-wench of mine,” he said.

  “I’ll take back the lunch,” she warned.

  “I suppose I can make an exception,” he replied after a moment.

  She managed to get caught up on Friday’s work, which wasn’t too difficult. She was still behind on Monday’s files though. It would take working diligently the rest of the day to get it all done. She didn’t know if Mr. Hubbard had even come in today, but she didn’t want to be caught off guard if he gave her new tasks.

  At lunch, she and Jared ate the baked pork chops, hash brown casserole, and green beans she made for them. The pork chops were her Mom’s recipe, and they were fabulous.

  Jared heated his up in the microwave after swiftly climbing up to retrieve the glass turntable and washing it twice with soap. She thought he was taking a huge risk, eating it, and told him so. He told her catching the flu was worth it.

  “This casserole is the bomb! Is there any more?” he asked, surreptitiously eyeing her plate.

  “Nope,” she said, eating the last bite of her own. “Sorry,” she said around her mouthful. “I’ve got a whole pan full at home though and it’s alllllll mine.”

  “That’s just evil,” he complained.

  “I’ll bring you extra tomorrow, but you’ll owe me.”

  “Fine. What do you want? How about a kiss in the closet?” he said, pointing over his shoulder to the closet.

  “Nope, contagious remember?”

  “Some other time then. What else do you want?” He leaned back with his arms crossed.

  “Boston Crème donuts.”

  “Of course you do. I didn’t even need to ask,” he said with a small smile. “Come on, let’s get back to work. I want to finish my Hagia Sophia,” he said, taking a Styrofoam bowl from a cabinet nearby.

  She just closed her eyes and shook her head.

  ◆◆◆

  That afternoon, she worked, and Jared kept interrupting her with strange memos.

  TO: Anna Collins-Carson

  FROM: Jared Carson

  RE: Russian Flu-Confidential

  There is supposedly some weird shiz going down in Russia. Supposedly, people are suddenly behaving strangely after they supposedly get better. The news isn’t showing it, but I found a video online. I emailed you the link but turn the volume down before you watch it.

  P.S.- Was that too many supposedlys?

  So that is what that burst of loud noise was earlier from his cubicle.

  She turned the system volume down and plugged in her earbuds. She found the email and clicked the link. The website it went to was shady as hell, promising Russian wives to lonely Westerners in ads along the side, but the video played without a problem. It was grainy, and shaky, and they were speaking Russian. She played it through once but had no idea what it was all about. It looked like some guy inside a car beating at the windows. The girl filming kept screaming and crying. It was a little annoying.

&nbs
p; She did notice something strange though. The guy’s eyes seemed to be cloudy, and the tips of his fingers looked darker than they should have been against the glass of the window. That wasn’t enough to make her believe this crap. Maybe he had cataracts and dirty fingers.

  She typed a reply.

  TO: Jared Carson

  FROM: Anna Collins

  RE: Video

  What is supposedly wrong with the guy? Maybe he was locked inside his car somehow. I couldn’t understand any of it, but it doesn’t look like anything strange to me.

  P.S.- And how did you change my name in your last memo?

  P.P.S.- Also, does my computer have a virus now?

  TO: Anna Collins-Carson

  FROM: Jared Carson

  RE: Video

  What do you mean nothing strange?! Didn’t you see his eyes? The dude wasn’t right! There was a reason the girl wasn’t opening the door for him. Besides, the door was unlocked, I saw it. Anyway, there are other videos too. New ones are being posted all over and the Russian news isn’t showing any of it.

  Regarding your name, I just changed it under the settings on my system. Don’t worry, you are still listed under your maiden name on everyone else’s. I think. (You should probably check your company tax withholding form though, just to be sure. If it says we are married on there, I get to claim you. You can’t claim me. I bet we’ll get a huge refund if we file jointly next year.)

  Watch that video again. You’ll see.

  Over the next few days, the office returned to some semblance of normality. As normal as the place ever got, anyway. Co-workers finally returned, some looked pale and weak. Jill never came back, which wasn’t too unexpected. Mr. Hubbard grumbled about it and delegated some of her tasks to Madeline, who in turn delegated them to Anna and Jared.

  This kept them swamped with work and left them very little time to watch Russian Flu videos or plot more office hijinks. Jared still sent her new video links occasionally though, and she watched them. Each one adding to her weird sense of unease about the whole thing.

  If this were a big thing, the regular news stations would cover it, right? Everything seems to have been swept under the rug, as far as official media outlets were concerned. There were still stories, but mostly they were fillers for the more regular coverage. One day this whole thing had twenty-four-hour wall to wall coverage, and now nothing?

  On Friday evening, after she got home from work, she received a text from Jared.

  Mr. Carson-Collins: Text me if you start feeling strange. I don’t like all these stories coming out of alt media.

  Buttercup: Okay, I will. Goodnight.

  Mr. Carson-Collins: Goodnight.

  She smiled and texted him a picture of herself crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue with the caption ‘feeling strange’. He sent her a one word reply that left her speechless trying to figure out exactly what he meant.

  Mr. Carson-Collins: Beautiful.

  Yeah, he was most likely being sarcastic.

  But what if he wasn’t? Was she too old to squeal like a teenage girl?

  Chapter Five

  Maybe Jared was Right

  Anna decided to get her weekly shopping done early on Saturday, instead of waiting until evening. She woke up extra early, feeling a strange urge to get moving and get it done. She made a quick pot of coffee and dressed in some jean shorts and a tee. She double checked her shopping list, adding some last-minute necessities.

  It was chocolate. She added chocolate.

  Buttercup: Need anything from the store?

  Why had she done that? Was that weird? Texting Jared unexpectedly, early on a Saturday morning? She meant it to be funny, but now she felt kind of lame and weird about it. Phone carriers needed to add a text message take back button.

  Mr. Carson-Collins: What are you, 82?

  Buttercup: ???

  Mr. Carson-Collins: Only the elderly go grocery shopping this early on a Saturday.

  Buttercup: That’s kind of ageist.

  Mr. Carson-Collins: You’re right. I’m sorry.

  Buttercup: You had better be!

  She tossed her hair into a quick messy bun and grabbed her travel mug, filling it with coffee and adding a dash of French vanilla creamer. Okay…a few dashes of creamer. It was extremely fattening, and she was probably undoing all her hard work on the treadmill, but she enjoyed her coffee and there was no way in hell she was giving up her favorite creamer. She heard a ping.

  Mr. Carson-Collins: I actually do need a couple of things, if that’s okay?

  Buttercup: Sure, what do you need?

  Mr. Carson-Collins: Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out…

  Buttercup: I’m absolutely sure!

  Mr. Carson-Collins: You can get me some Mylanta and some fiber powder. Perhaps a quart of buttermilk. Some butterscotch candies. Fixodent. Prunes. Definitely need some moth balls. Also, can you pick up my blood pressure pills? I have a feeling I’m going to get lucky at Bingo later this afternoon and I don’t want to get the old pressure up. And Jell-O. And can you drop all this off before 6pm? Because I’ll need to be in bed by then rubbing horse liniment on my arthritic knees…

  She grinned at her phone and sent back a straight face emoji.

  Buttercup: Okay, I’m going now. I’ll leave your prunes on your desk Monday.

  Mr. Carson-Collins: Thanks, Dollface.

  A moment later—

  Mr. Carson-Collins: Don’t forget your Hoveround.

  She laughed.

  She put her list in her bag, locked up, and drove uptown. She tapped on her favorite playlist for some pre-shopping tunes. The morning sun had already risen, but it was still early enough that the large town wasn’t extremely busy. Also, another benefit of getting out early was that she got to avoid the heat and humidity that usually ramped up in intensity around nine in the morning. Maybe she should do this more often…

  With a population of about thirty-five thousand, this was the perfect place to live. There were many restaurant options, grocery choices, and a bustling job market. The place was growing, yet still held a nice small-town charm. Sure, there was a church on every corner, but that only bothered her on Sundays when the extremely slow traffic got overwhelming in the mornings.

  She wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.

  She lived in a small apartment complex downtown, near the office and the town center. The cozy market districts were there, and within walking distance. Her office was only a couple of miles away from her home, but she preferred to drive there so she didn’t get all sweaty.

  She passed the historic court square where the limestone courthouse rested among weeping willows, maples, and majestic oaks. Old Victorian-style houses surrounded the square’s little shops and cafes, a reminder of the wealth and grandiosity of the old-time residents. She had toured one of the restored houses recently and had fallen in love with it. Perhaps one day she could afford to buy one.

  Yeah, probably not, but she could dream.

  She pulled into the large shopping complex that housed her favorite grocery, an affordable store that offered many international selections. Across the large lot rested one of those chain sporting goods stores. The bright kayaks were lined up like jewels outside. She drove by them once and was surprised at how affordable they were. She planned to buy one someday. There was a large lake nearby that she was planning to go to. Sometime.

  Who was she kidding? She probably wouldn’t. She never did anything new, never varied her routine very much. Was she boring? Yes, her life was boring, and safe. She was suddenly acutely aware that her life was borderline pathetic really, at least to her. She used to have all these grand dreams of being not only successful at her career, but also having an active social life, and a family. How was she going to accomplish that when all she ever did was work, watch T.V., and exercise? She needed a change. She needed to get out and do something, meet people…get out of her comfort zone. That’s how people grow, right? She was going to do it.


  The lot wasn’t busy at all and she pulled right into the front row. Before she could chicken out, she pulled out her phone and texted Jared.

  Buttercup: You want to do something, sometime?

  Mr. Carson-Collins: You don’t mean cross referencing the sales expense reports with the office budget index, do you? Because that’s more like a second date thing. Just kidding, because that would actually be completely boring. Have you bought my butterscotch candy yet?

  Buttercup: I thought we could get something to eat? If you want?

  Mr. Carson-Collins: You mean like when you bring my lunch to work on Monday?

  Buttercup: Please forget I asked…

  Mr. Carson-Collins: No wait…

  Mr. Carson-Collins: I’ll think about it and get back to you.

  Her heart dropped a bit at that. There she was just a week ago saying that she didn’t want to ruin their friendship, and now she put a big, awkward thing between them. She dropped her head to the steering wheel and groaned. She wished she could take back the last five minutes of her life. Fudge.