“It’s awfully warm in here, Jake, isn’t it?” Andrea wiped the sweat from her chest. “This is going to be one of those days I will have wished that we had broken down and gotten an air conditioner.” Andrea reached over him and opened up the window; a gentle breeze blew in a slight coolness along with a slight stench. “Oh.” Andrea covered her nose. “This smell will only get worse.” As she stared out the window, she remembered how many times she and Jake had shut it to close out the noise from the buses and people. Now she longed for them. Forgoing the heat she reached for the window to close it again when she heard what sounded like a baby’s wail.
“Did you hear that, Jake?”
Jake lay still on the bed, sleeping soundly.
The high pitched shrieking continued. “There it is again.” Andrea stuck her head out of the window. She listened. It was a baby, and its crying echoed through the empty streets. “I’ll be back.”
Andrea jumped from the bed. She grabbed a shirt from her dresser drawer and doused it with perfume; she covered her nose and headed out of the apartment. The hallway was scattered with dead rats; the poison she had placed in her doorway and on the steps was working so far. She knew she would have to get more. But first, the baby, she prayed it would not stop crying. “Please keep crying, child.” Andrea hurried to the street, ignoring the rodents which were starting to gather around the deceased. She listened intently for the cries and followed them.
They led her to an apartment building one block down. She looked at the building and raced in. Following the cry up four flights of stairs, she located the door from which they came.
“Hello?” Andrea knocked. “Hello, is anyone there?”
The baby cried louder.
Andrea turned the doorknob, and walked in. She glanced around the apartment and removed the shirt from her nose. She began a search of the apartment. Empty baby bottles covered the kitchen counter. From there the cries flowed down a small hall. Two steps and she found a door that was ajar.
As she opened it she could see a crib, and in front of the crib, a rocking chair where a woman sat.
“Ma’am?” Andrea called out. “Are you all right?”
With no response, she made her way into the room. “Oh, God.” There in the crib a curly blond haired baby sat up wearing a diaper and a pink tee shirt. She stopped crying when she spotted Andrea.
Before Andrea picked up the child, she noticed the woman in the rocking chair, her head slumped over, and the blood that flowed from her mouth was not yet dry. Andrea felt for a pulse; the woman was dead, her body was still warm, she had just died.
Andrea lifted the little girl from her crib which was sopping wet and filled with bottles. The woman must have tried desperately to care for her until the very end.
She held the baby close; she was no more than six months old. “Oh, little one, you’re not even sick.” Andrea spotted a bag of diapers. “Let me change you real fast and I’ll get you out of here.” As Andrea changed the baby, it dawned on her how many other children may have been left alone. She finished and gathered up things she needed. As she did, she noticed the hospital birth certificate on the wall. “Katherine.” How ironic, Andrea thought that this was the second Katherine destined to live. “I’ll call you Katie.” Andrea covered the baby’s mother with a blanket, and she left the apartment with Katie.
As she carried Katie tightly she stopped and looked around the street. So many buildings, so many apartments, could someone else be alive? She opened her mouth to call out but stopped. With all that had gone on, what if someone tried to kill her? What if she didn’t? Would it be a sin on her soul if she did not try?
“Hello! Hello! Is anyone there?” Andrea moved slowly down the street crying out as she walked on. “If you can hear me, or if you need my help, please answer me. Hello!”
Andrea continued home. The rats were beginning to gather more. What would it be like in a day or two? She knew she would have to get Katie not only out of the neighborhood, but out of the city. But she couldn’t until Jake was gone.
“Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me?” Andrea stood in front of her building. “I’m going in my home now. Please, if you can hear me ...” Andrea sighed. “Oh, Katie, it looks like it’s just you and me.” With a diaper bag harnessed over her shoulder, she clutched Katie and turned to her door. A black rat sat as if guarding it. “Get out of my way!” Andrea snarled at it. Frightened, it scurried along.
“Wait!” a tiny voice called out.
Andrea turned.
Across the street there stood a little boy about seven or eight years old. He wore a backwards baseball cap and a pair of cutoffs while holding a bag of chips. “Lady, I’m scared.”
“Come here, I’ll help you.”
He just stood there.
“What’s wrong, are you sick?”
“No.”
“Well, what is it?”
“I’m not allowed to cross the street.”
“I’ll watch you.”
The little boy looked both ways and darted over. He grabbed a hold of Andrea’s legs and hugged them. He looked up at her with his blue eyes. “Will I get in trouble for leaving my mom?”
“Is she ok?” Andrea asked.
“No, she died. She told me my dad went to the hospital to get better, and don’t leave, because he would be back.”
“Come on to my place. I’m sure if he comes back he’ll call out like I did.” Andrea opened her building door.
“I don’t think he’s coming back, do you?”
“Let’s talk about this upstairs.” They walked in and Andrea quickly shut the door behind them, keeping out the three rats she saw speeding their way. They were safe inside, if only for a little while.
June 1st - 4:05 p.m.
Fairfield University - Stamford, Connecticut
With a gun swung around his back like he was Rambo, Henry stood with Dean by a motorcycle at the edge of the university grounds. Dean handed Henry a small cooling sack with a strap. Henry took it and placed it over his shoulder.
“Tell my father the instructions are in there.” Dean pointed to the sack.
“Got it.” Henry nodded.
“I’ll pack up my stuff, finish making more, and be there tomorrow.”
“Got it.”
“And reiterate to my father, give the serum only to the earliest available stages. Or else ...”
“It will be a waste. Yes, I know.” Henry mounted the motorcycle.
“And don’t crash.” Dean waved a finger.
“Crash. Ha!” Henry nodded. “I’m not gonna crash, Dean. I’m gonna get shot. You know that. I’m getting shot.” Henry rattled as he adjusted himself. “I’m riding around like a rebel. “There’s martial law and I have a gun. I’m a dead man. I just know it.”
“Henry.” Dean shook his head as he chuckled. “Get going.”
“I’m going.” Henry started the motorcycle. “But do you know something, Dean? I’m like the cool hero riding in to save the day.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I can hear the theme music playing now. Sing it for me while I ride off.”
“Henry.”
“Kidding.” Henry revved the bike. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck.”
Henry prepared to move the bike. He stopped and gave a thumbs up to Dean. “You did good.” With another rev of the engine Henry sped off. Excited, hopeful, and nervous, Dean watched him ride off—just as Henry claimed—like the hero into the sunset.
June 1st - 4:17 p.m.
Logan, Indiana
There was plenty of bad Barry Manilow music for Frank to listen to in that little blue car; unfortunately there wasn’t plenty of gas. It sputtered its last bit of fuel and Frank steered until it stopped, dying like everything else on that side farm road. The lack of fuel was forefront on Frank’s mind. He expected it--not so soon considering it was an economy car—but he expected it nonetheless.
Grabbing his rifle, his knapsack, and the rolled slee
ping bag that was in the car, Frank stepped out. He knew he had to keep going, at least until he found another means of transportation. Tired, arms full, head pounding and grateful that he ate that large bag of Cheetos or else he’d be starved as well, Frank trudged down the abandoned two-lane road.
June 1st - 4:40 p.m.
Fairfield University - Stamford, Connecticut
“How’s the head?” Dean asked Carl, squatting by the tree where Carl leaned against.
“Getting better.” Carl sipped on water. “That rest did me some good too.”
“You didn’t get much.”
“I’m sleeping against a tree.”
“True.”
“So ...” Carl hesitated before asking. A little scared of what Dean would say. “Did ... did it work?”
“The combination of the two bred positive results. Thank you.”
Carl grinned, clenching his fist in gratitude. “Ok, so, what now. There wasn’t that much in that vial, was there.”
“No, there wasn’t.” Dean answered. “However, right now I’m running a synthesis of it. It won’t be quite as potent as the original, but it will still give us results. I should have a large enough batch for us to bring with us to Ashtonville. Actually, tonight ...” Dean took a breath. “Tonight, you and I should have cases of it to pack up.”
“Cases?” Carl asked. “There aren’t that many people in Ashtonville.”
“No, I mean, I don’t think. The cases are for, well, just in case. If when we get to Ashtonville tomorrow and we see that the serum works, I’d like to get together a few of us and start hitting rural areas as fast as we can.”
Carl understood. “Because like Ashtonville, they would be behind the bigger cities as far as how advanced the virus is.”
“Exactly.” Dean nodded his head toward the tent area. “And I know right now it doesn’t look like it here. But out there somewhere, we still have hope.”
June 1st - 5:15 p.m.
Ashtonville, Connecticut
The motor and revving of the motorcycle probably could have been heard for miles. At least it sounded that way to Henry. He was able to move freely in between and around the areas where traffic was most congested. In his haste to get to Ashtonville, he nearly wrecked only three times. But once Henry learned how to use the brakes he was fine.
He followed the sign and was surprised that the town just appeared right after the highway exit. He thought for sure he’d have to find some dirt road and look for signs. But after he drove past the McDonald’s, Taco Bell, and a little mall, a mile later down a tree-lined road there he was. He found himself smack dab in the middle of what looked like the town square on an episode of ‘The Andy Griffith Show’, only this small town looked deserted. It was eerily quiet, too. Papers that were thrown across the single stop light main street blew up in the air when Henry brought the bike to a stop. He had to take a second to look around for a direction to go. From what Henry could see, there weren’t many streets off of that main road, and it wouldn’t be difficult to locate where a make-shift aid station was set up. Figuring that Ashtonville wasn’t that big and the noise from the ill should carry loudly, Henry rode off straight ahead in his search.
A long table, medication, Joe’s list of the sick. William stood before them. It was the care table set up directly in front of Ellen’s home. Everyone waited for William to distribute what they had to administer to the ill.
Ellen didn’t feel like waiting. Taylor couldn’t wait. Tired, eyes puffy and red, Ellen squeezed between Miguel and Joe looking up at William. “Excuse me, William,” she spoke, tired and drawn. “Do you have it?”
“Yes.” William nodded as he reached for a box.
“It has to be strong.” Ellen told him. “She needs something ...”
“William!” the voice echoed in the distance. “William!” It was Henry.
Ellen turned, as did everyone, looking for the voice that called out.
William recognized it. “Henry?” William peered over the heads of those who stood before his table. “Henry.”
Henry had left the bike back at the long line of traffic that blocked off the end of the street. “William!” He charged ahead full speed into the area of the ill. He leaped over a man who lay on the ground, tripped a little, spun, apologized to the man and hit the yard. “William.” He raced toward William. His hands slammed hard on the table’s surface as if that were the only way to stop himself from vaulting over it.
“Henry, what the ...”
“Your son.” Henry spoke out of breath. “He sent the first step ...” He took off the cooling sack laying it on the table. “... of the cure.”
A loud eruption of ‘what’ came from the group and they gathered in closer. Their voices mumbled and meshed together with their excitement and curiosity.
Henry handed William an envelope. “It stalls the virus and buys Dean more time to beat it. He’s making more. However ...”
William had opened the envelope and started to read. “It works best on the earliest stages.” William spoke through his reading. He then looked up at the faces that stared back at him and laid his hand on the cooling sack. “He said to give this batch only to our earliest stages otherwise the serum will be wasted. Ok, people.” William pulled the list of ill. “Let’s look at our Joe list and find our thirty least ill. We have to pull them, inject them and isolate them. Then hopefully ... save them.”
Between watching William distribute the sheets, Joe saw Ellen slip her arm through and take the medication William had ready for Taylor. He saw the look on her face; as well as pale, it exuded sadness. With the medication in her hand, she slowly backed up. “Ellen.” Joe took a step to her. “Wait, maybe ...”
“Maybe what?” Ellen spoke holding back any tears. “I know my daughter is not going to be one of the thirty. I know.” Without saying any more, she walked away.
William paused in what he was doing. He couldn’t help but take a moment to look at Ellen who went into her home alone. After she left his sight, he returned to distributing the list of ill to review.
Though Taylor was curled up on Ellen’s lap and sleeping soundly under the heavy medication, she whimpered as she slept. On the bed, Ellen cuddled and held her. Taylor’s little fingers were tightly intertwined in Ellen’s hair as she reached to hold onto her mother. Her eyelids fluttered in a dream that Ellen prayed was a peaceful, good one.
“And Uncle Richie.” Ellen’s fingers tickled lightly over Taylor’s forehead. “He’s coming to visit this summer. Yeah. Cringe, huh? And Pap-pap Joe is going to the beach with us in August. Or at least he says. We have all sorts of ...” Ellen looked up to the knock on the door. “Come in.”
The door opened and William walked in. Quietly he closed it and moved near the bed.
Ellen first kissed Taylor, holding tight to her head, then after a breath, she looked at William. She felt the lump in her throat. “Did you find your thirty?”
“Yes. We’ve separated them and are getting ready to give them the injection.” William sat on the bed by Ellen’s legs. “My dear, I need you to understand. My son gave me strict, very strict orders not to give it to anyone in the later stages.”
Ellen didn’t want to cry, but it happened. A thick and warm tear rolled down her cheek. She pulled Taylor even closer.
“Ellen, chances are so, so, slim that it will even affect the advanced cases. Taylor is very advanced.”
“I know this.” Ellen sniffled.
“Ok, just so you understand the chances. But my view is ...” William leaned into Ellen. “A slim chance is better than no chance. Correct?” He reached into his coat pocket pulling out a syringe. He watched Ellen’s eyes rise to him in shock. “No matter how small, let’s give Taylor that chance.”
Ellen couldn’t speak. Her throat had swollen up so much that words couldn’t emerge. All she could do was cry. And her body bounced even harder as she cried when William uncapped the syringe of hope, grabbed hold of Taylor’s thigh, and injected her
with the serum.
June 1st - 8:30 p.m.
New York City, NY
She only packed what she needed and wanted to take. She left so much else behind. Her arms would be full with the children. Andrea swore she packed more pictures and memorabilia than clothing. That was all right, because Andrea knew picking clothes up would never be a problem. She also knew they had to get out of the city. Staying there wasn’t an option. Besides being dangerous, it wouldn’t smell all that great in a few days.
In her bedroom, duffle bag packed, Andrea looked to the bed. She had taken time to wrap Jake in a sheet then cover him. She left the window open then she picked up her bag, walked out of the bedroom and closed the door. She had said her goodbyes to her husband and vowed she wouldn’t go back in there. Setting down her bag, she laid her hand on the closed door for a moment and thought of Jake.
Andrea was tired. The children were sleeping. Denny on the couch, Katie blocked off in a chair. All she wanted to do was sleep. Knowing that rest would have to be gotten if she wanted to have the strength to venture out and leave the city, Andrea took the other end of the sofa. She grabbed the throw pillow and sat down. Bringing her legs up, she cradled that pillow close to her chest. In that corner of the couch, curled up so tight, Andrea tried to sleep.
June 1st - 8:45 p.m.
Interstate 80 - East Indiana
There was a sense of disappointment that Frank felt about himself. He was a man who was fit and strong, yet he’d barely made it twenty miles. He thought for sure finding a vehicle would be easy. It turned out to be a task. And the more Frank looked, the further it seemed that he walked until he just couldn’t go anymore.
The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series Page 18