by Ison, S. A.
All fifty states were reporting massive casualties, in the millions. The hospitals were overwhelmed, and having to turn away the sick and dying. Abandoned warehouse buildings were being turned into morgues to house the dead.
He had started stashing away food and supplies two weeks ago. He also took showers upon his return, whenever he left. The busses had stopped running, and he’d had to call a couple times to skip work.
He’d dug out his old mountain bike, oiled it, and fixed the seat. It would get him around. He had noticed an ugly trend: people watched him. Like he watched them, but it was something deeper, something more sinister and visceral. More stores were closing. People didn’t want to take chances. Jake had almost gotten his ass kicked for a small bag of groceries. Larry started hiding his purchases under his shirt, wearing a loose jacket to cover the evidence.
The once mellow people of Los Angeles were losing their ever-loving minds, and that scared the shit out of Larry. He opened another browser. He wanted to check the news again. Though he really didn’t want to know, something compelled him to look. The world count on his screen said approximately four billion people dead. He couldn’t even fathom that number.
His screen flashed a couple times, then Larry watched in horror as a worm began to eat its way across it. He stood and backed away from his computer. His heart hammered in his chest, and he felt as though ice water had been poured over his body. A cry of primal fear rose up in his throat.
Arlington, Texas
Zoe held Ally in her arms, rocking the child’s limp body. Her mind was numb, her eyes raw from crying. Her heart was broken, and all she had left was this child in her arms. Patricia was dead. She’d been rushed to the hospital six days ago, and was now dead. She hadn’t even been able to say goodbye to her wife. They’d kept her in isolation, and both she and Ally had been evaluated and sent home.
Ally had been sick, but it had been so mild that Zoe was sure it hadn’t been the virus. But then Patricia had turned up sick a few days later, complaining of a massive headache. Now, they were alone. Her daughter had cried when Zoe told her that her mother had gone to live with the angels. That was no consolation to the five-year-old; it was no consolation to Zoe either.
She stared off into space, and heard the refrigerator click off, ceasing its unending hum. The power is out, the clinical side of her brain whispered. She didn’t care. She continued to hold her daughter, rocking and thinking.
An hour later, Zoe went to the medicine cabinet, resolve steeling over her heart. Looking over the numerous prescription bottles, she found Oxycontin 80mg. It was Patricia’s prescription from her back surgery last winter. She thought the pills were still potent, and would do what they needed to do.
Going into the kitchen, she got out a jar of Nutella and set it aside. Opening a bottle of water, she put four of the pills into a small cup and poured a little water in. Slowly, the pills began to melt and dissolve. She stirred the mixture, then added Nutella, mixing well until she had a fatal spread. Getting Ally’s favorite graham crackers, she spread the mixture onto some. She could hear Ally playing in her bedroom.
“Ally, honey, come in here and eat your snack.”
“Okay, Mommy.”
Ally came into the kitchen carrying her favorite doll; it was a patchwork doll, with bright button eyes and rosy cheeks. Zoe pulled her daughter into her lap and held her while she ate. After a while Ally began to get sleepy, and Zoe held and rocked her, humming softly. She watched Ally’s small chest as it rose and fell, as her breathing began to slow.
She kissed her daughter’s head, smoothing back the soft brown hair. The small chest rose once, paused, then rose again, then rose no more. Tears fell onto the soft brown hair as she carried her daughter to her bedroom and laid her on the bed. Going back to the kitchen, she pulled out the full bottle of vodka and swallowed the rest of the pills. Going back to join her daughter, she drank the vodka slowly, curling her body around her daughter.
Zoe had seen the madness in the streets, had seen the news of the dying. There had been massive riots and looting. Their world was going to hell, and she wanted to protect Ally from that. They would go and see her mother and Patricia. It was the best she could do. She began to feel the effects of the alcohol and narcotics, her body relaxing, her breathing slowing down. She kissed her daughter once more, and faded into oblivion.
29 June
Topsfield, Maine
Kelly’s brain still struggled to register the plunging airliners. She looked at her watch. It was just after 4 a.m. and light outside. She’d pitched her tent by the outhouse, and had kept a vigil on Tim. He was in and out of consciousness, and she had plied him with honey water with turmeric through the night. She’d kept the peppermint leaves in as well, everything steeping and kept warm.
She worked through the rest of the day caring for Tim yesterday. As it grew dark, she had built up the fire and put up her tent. Tim vacillated between coherency and delirium. His temperature would go up and then break.
She got up from her pallet, and crawled out of her tent. Schrodinger’s Cat was curled up by Tim’s feet, his long legs stretching out of the outhouse. Schrodinger’s Cat was keeping them warm. She stretched, and heard the bones pop along her spine
Placing a hand on Tim’s forehead, she found it cool. The birds were starting to wake up. The liquid trill of the Hermit Thrush brought a smile to her lips, its sweet sound filling her with peaceful hope. Tim would live.
Tim’s eyes opened, and a tired smile creased his face.
Good, she thought, he’s coherent.
“How are you feeling?” she asked softly, not wanting to break the quiet of the morning.
Tim tried to speak, but his eyes closed in pain. Kelly quickly went to the fire and poured some of the honey mixture. She brought it over to Tim, blowing in the cup to cool it.
Holding the cup to his lips, she let him drink. As he swallowed, pain shot once more across his face. He took another swallow, and seemed to ease. He took another mouthful, this time even easier.
“Better,” he whispered.
Kelly smiled through the mask, and smoothed his long blond hair away from his face. “Good. You scared the hell out of me.”
“I scared me too,” he whispered hoarsely.
“So how are you really feeling?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“Like hammered shit.” He laughed weakly.
“At least you’re feeling. Give me a few, and I’ll get you off this toilet and into the tent. I’ll also get you more honey water.”
“Can I have coffee?” he asked hopefully.
Kelly laughed, feeling lighter. “No, but I will get you some rice and chicken, so we can get some food in your system.
Kelly moved around, pulling her blankets from the tent and taking them to the cabin. She came back out with fresh sheets and thick comforter, and used them to make a soft pallet inside the tent. She then brought out one of her longest night shirts. It was tight around Tim’s shoulders, but was stretchy enough that it didn’t bind him. And it did the job of keeping him decent.
She helped him into the tent, and laid him down gently on the pillow. She brought the quilt up and covered him. By the time she got him settled, he was panting, exhausted from moving. Sweat had broken out on his face, rivulets running down his stubbled cheeks. When Kelly returned with a small bowl of rice and chicken broth, Tim was asleep; she stripped off the rubber gloves and threw them in the fire, and laid her mask on the outdoor table after spraying it with disinfectant. Turning and checking once more, she left him and went back into the house to shower. Her body hurt, and she was tired.
She went to grab her computer and froze; she’d forgotten what had happened yesterday. That horrible worm on her phone, and the falling planes. A chill ran through her body and fear threatened to choke her. She began to tremble anew. How could she have forgotten?
The sleepless night and trying to save Tim had worn her brain down to stupid. She sat heavily on the cou
ch, cradled her head in her hands, and began to weep. All those people, she thought. There had to have been hundreds, if not thousands, of planes in the air at that moment. She wondered if it were just the United States, or global. She didn’t think she would ever find out. The message had been pretty clear.
She got up and went back outside to fix coffee. It was going to be a long day, and she needed the caffeine. She peeked in on Tim; he was still sleeping. She went over and fed the chickens, then Butter. She didn’t have grain, and thought perhaps she should drive over to Tim’s to get some grain. But she was afraid. She didn’t know if Tim’s cabin was contaminated. So she gave Butter a couple apples, and let her wander the yard eating grass. She’d talk to Tim later.
Toward evening, she had set Tim up to feed him. The past three hours, he’d not thrown up, so she took it as a good sign. She hoped the rice would help to settle his stomach. He was quiet as he ate, taking small bites and swallowing tentatively.
She sighed heavily, and Tim looked up into her eyes. His eyes were clear, and she looked down into the bowl.
“What?” he asked.
“I don’t want to upset you, but there’s something I need to tell you,” she said hesitantly.
“Tell me. What’s the matter?” he asked softly.
“Something’s happened. Someone launched some kind of computer virus. It was on my phone. It said, ‘Welcome to the Stone Age.’ I think it infected the satellites or something, because I saw two airplanes go down at the same time. They just fell out of the fucking sky.” She ended with a choked cry, tears filling her eyes. She was angry at herself for breaking down. Tim didn’t need that.
“Shit,” Tim whispered hoarsely. He was now looking down at his hands, clasped in the folds of the quilt.
“What?” Kelly said with tight suspicion.
“You were right about the wet work. Agent Finch had left three files at my cabin. They were targets. Three hackers. I know I wasn’t the only one called upon. I’m pretty sure there were numerous targets.”
“Great. So it looks like one of the targets let loose a goddamn tidal wave of shit on the world.”
“Looks like,” he said softly.
“Where were your targets located?”
“One in D.C., one in St. Louis, and one in Denver. My targets may not have even been responsible, there’s just no telling.”
“What the hell do we do now? How far has this gone?”
“From the message sent and those down airliners, I’d say pretty damn far.”
“My God. First the Ebola virus, and now this. Do you think North Korea or ISIS is responsible for any of it?” Kelly asked helplessly.
“I’m not sure they have the technology for either, but if they got help from someone else and combined forces, it’s possible. There’s no telling now. If this had gone as far as I think it has, I suspect that the whole world has gone to hell. And to quote your phone virus, we have all been sent back to the Stone Age.”
“Jesus Christ,” Kelly breathed.
Tim studied her.”
Kelly looked at him, his eyes were starting to droop. “You better lie back down,” she said, and put the bowl of food out of the tent.
“I think I better make a trip to the head,” he said, a slight blush dusting his thin cheeks.
“You need help?” she asked.
Tim nodded, and she helped him up. His body was heavy and warm. She walked him to the outhouse, set him on the seat, and closed the door. She called Schrodinger’s Cat to her and went into the cabin. She placed the bowl in the sink and fed the dog. She visited her bathroom and washed her face. She stared at her tear-stained reflection; her face looked like it had aged. The fine lines around her eyes seemed deeper. She felt a deep sadness, and knew it wouldn’t go away.
Kelly went back to the outhouse, but it was empty. She bent and looked into the tent, and found Tim settling himself in. His color was very pale, and his hands were trembling. He was sweating profusely, the night shirt wet around the neckline.
“Are you okay?” she asked, a little alarmed.
“Yeah, just took it out of me. I still have diarrhea, but not as bad. Not nearly as bad. I think the rice is helping.
“Thank you for risking your life for me, Kelly,” Tim said softly, touching her gloved hand lightly.
“Oh Tim, you’re my friend. How could I not help you? By the way, where is Chance? He didn’t come with you, and you were too out of it yesterday for me to ask.”
“He’s dead.” Tim’s choked, and his face drooped. “He got the virus. I found him dead outside when I got the horse to come here.” Tears shimmered in his eyes, sorrow etching the lines of his face.
“Oh Tim, I’m so sorry. Poor Chance. I thought the virus only affected humans?” Kelly said, her own eyes tearing up. She looked over at Schrodinger’s Cat, rolling around in the grass. “We’ll both miss him.”
“I think he licked my face or my hands when I first got sick. Or maybe Finch had left something at the cabin. I don’t think it was normal for him to catch it. Maybe it mutated or something,” Tim said, trying to clear the tears from his throat. “How is the horse? Is she okay?”
“I think Butter is okay. I hosed her down and used some of the soapy water to get her clean. She is over near the pond grazing right now.” Kelly nodded toward the back of the property where a large pond was located. “I gave her some apples, and dry oats that I use to cook with. She’s going to need more.”
Tim nodded. “Thanks again. I owe you my life. In her barn, there are bales of hay, and a large can of grain. If you wear your protective gear, you should be safe enough. Don’t go near Chance’s body,” Tim said, pulling the blanket more snuggly around him.
“All right. I’ll head out and take a couple buckets to fill with grain, and throw the hay in the back of the truck. I’ll leave Schrodinger’s Cat and the hefferdoodles to keep you company.”
Northwest South Carolina
In northwest South Carolina, the Catawba, Robinson, and Oconee nuclear stations along with the others in the state, were scrambling. They had lost power and backup generators the previous day. The technicians worked frantically. With four nuclear stations within a short radius, no one was likely to survive in the north of the state if they couldn’t get the power back up. They had manually hooked up the battery pack, but it wouldn’t last. A core meltdown would ensue.
The fuel tanks that supplied the generators had been controlled by computers, but because their screens and monitors had shown a worm eating its way across, chasing the horrific message, accessing the fuel was no longer an option. The devastation as turbines and cooling chambers began to shut down was unthinkable, a systematic death knell. The Fukushima Nuclear Plant’s disaster was still fresh in everyone’s minds. They were seriously screwed if they couldn’t get this fixed.
Bridgman, Michigan
Alisa had cried hysterically. Stephen had tried to calm her, but within minutes of the power outage, they’d heard a loud explosion. It had rocked the cottage, and her screams had intensified. He and Mike had left her, assuring her they’d be right back. He told her to keep the door locked, and gave her a gun. It nearly broke his heart when she screamed, “Don’t leave me!”
Like their neighbors, he and Mike had headed down the street toward where smoke was billowing from behind stately homes. More and more people had come out, fear and curiosity on their faces. Mike had looked up, and gasped. Together they watched as two planes spiraled downward in the distance. A few seconds later, they heard the distant boom of explosions.
As they drew closer, they smelled some kind of fuel, and the smoke was becoming thicker and so acrid, they could barely breathe. They’d covered their faces with their shirts. Bits of debris littered the ground, and pieces of jagged metal. When Stephen saw a burned foot lying on the roof of a parked car, he had stopped Mike. He suggested they go back home, and go quickly.
They had found Alisa sitting on the couch rocking back and forth. He’d taken her to thei
r room. For the rest of the day, they had stayed there, in the dark. Mike had brought food to the door, but neither felt like eating.
It was just getting light outside now, and Stephen could hear the birds in the forsythia bush, which hugged the wall of the cottage near their window. It had been a long night, and Stephen’s eyes burned from spent tears and exhaustion. He’d been shaken to his core. The world was gone, and he felt numb. He wanted to wake from this nightmare.
He could hear Mike moving around in the other room. He eased himself up from the bed, trying not to disturb his wife. She had dark circles beneath her closed eyes. He hoped the baby was okay.
Going into the living room, he nodded to Mike, and went to the kitchen to get a bottle of water.
“Something is going on, something bad. That was some kind of computer virus or something on the TV yesterday.” Mike said without preamble. “Those planes falling out of the sky... I don’t know what’s happening, but I think we’re on our own. What I mean is, nobody has power, nobody has computers…there are no police, maybe no government, no stores, no nothing. My phone doesn’t work.” Mike held his phone up, and the screen was blank.
“How are we going to survive without power, man?” Stephen said, his hands scrubbing at his unshaven face, He ran his fingers through his hair and pulled, hard.
“We’ll have to figure it out. It is a damn good thing we got all the supplies we did. We’re gonna have to make ’em last, and come up with a long-term plan,” Mike said, his hands twisted into a pillow, his shoulders rigid with fear.
Stephen looked at his friend. He saw the uncertainty and fear, and knew his face reflected the same.