The China Pandemic

by A. R. Shaw

  After getting ready, he contemplated shaving, but somehow he just could not bring himself to do it. Looking at his own reflection, he saw only a worn man full of grief, someone he did not know at all.

  Ready for the day, he headed into the bedroom. He found a neatly folded solid blue comforter but no boy. “Bang?” he called, panicked, and he ran into the kitchen searching for the kid. He cursed himself for not leaving the door open. He did not have to look long. He found Bang staring out the glass door to his mother’s grave.

  The boy’s eyes had still not lost their sleepy morning gaze. “All right, buddy, it’s your turn,” he said with relief. “You do know how to turn on the shower, right?” The boy grabbed his backpack without looking up at Graham and stomped past him. He headed down the hall and into the steamy mist of the bathroom beyond. Graham watched him as he closed the door. Somehow, he did not quite believe the kid could do it all by himself, as tiny as he was.

  Graham turned on the Keurig one last time and leaned against the counter. He and his father joked, before the first of them died, about who would get the last K-cup of coffee. His dad dubbed it as the ‘last stander’ trophy. Graham flipped the white cup around a few times and opened the Keurig’s latch, popping the cup in with its familiar snap. They’d been without coffee for three weeks now. This last single cup was a kind of morbid symbol. He let the machine go through its rowdy routine. The pleasing aroma filtered through the room, which made the first tears of the day slip gently down his sunken cheeks. Graham lifted his steaming cup with a tip to his departed father as he sipped down the black brew. He needed this caffeine jolt to begin this day. His father was right. If it were not for the promised plan, he would not make it for long here in this silence.

  Bang emerged from the bathroom and walked back down the hall towards Graham, dragging his feet and his backpack. Besides that, he looked and smelled fairly well cleaned to Graham’s summation.

  “Good job, buddy. You look pretty clean. Let’s get some breakfast and start packing up this place. We have got a lot to do before we head out tonight,” Graham told him.

  Graham reached down and lifted up the boy’s light weight easily onto the granite counter top. He needed to talk to him while preparing some leftover beans and rice he’d made the day before. Initially, it was enough to last him and his dad a few more days. Now, they’d have to throw some out.

  Luckily, for Graham’s family, his mother’s southern roots taught her always to stock a pantry well. She kept twenty-five pound sacks of pinto beans and rice in quantity. She shopped at Costco weekly and always prepared for emergencies. After having lived through the aftermath of several hurricanes, droughts and one calamity after another while growing up in south Texas, she argued it just made sense to be prepared.

  While the family quickly grew tired of beans and rice, they never grew hungry. Grabbing a second bowl for the boy, Graham considered him and asked something his mother always asked his friends. It had always caused him great embarrassment as a kid.

  “Are you allergic to anything?”

  The boy just raised his shoulders and made a face instead of answering. Not ever running across anyone allergic to the concoction, Graham decided it was a safe bet he could have it. He knew now this parenting thing left him with a lot to consider.

  As he’d always done for his niece, Graham pulled out the little red plastic cup reserved for her. He filled it with cold tap water that thankfully still ran. He handed it to Bang with the steaming bowl of food. The boy peered down at his bowl and for a second, Graham thought he might toss it on the floor, but hunger won out.

  Seeing this, Graham felt a pang of guilt at how easy their family really had it. At least, they had not gone hungry. He felt happy to be able to ease the boy’s hunger even in this little way. Once he finished, Graham debated giving him seconds, but thought it might not be a good idea. Instead, he opted to offer him more clean water. He did not want the boy to lose what he’d gained.

  With their meal completed, Graham took the time to ask him a few questions. After all, he’d only known the kid a few hours and held full responsibility for his life now. As much information as he could get would help him decide their next step. Graham knew they would be leaving for the family cabin, isolated up towards the Old Cascade Highway by the Skagit River tonight. The plans were already made. At least, they would be safe from the animals and the stench that brought them in here to civilization.

  Waiting for his father to pass felt like the only thing holding him back. His father would never consider being buried away from his mother. Even now, he could hear the howls of the packs in the distance at night. Additionally, the fires that started in Seattle continued to grow unabated. What started as a distant glow seemed to be spreading, consuming the vast amounts of fuel rapaciously on its way.

  “So, it’s just you and me now,” he said to the boy sitting on the counter with his small legs dangling down, resting his heels against the cupboard. He knew he needed to get some dialog going with the obstinate child. Remembering the letter Hyun-Ok wrote, he asked, “So, how old are you, Bang?”

  Instead of answering, Bang held up his hand and splayed five fingers. Graham tried again.

  “Can you hunt?” he asked. The boy’s face brightened a little and he nodded his response. “Well, I’ll have to see you do that sometime,” he said, trying to make the best of it, even if the boy did not want to talk back.

  Graham thought he should probably make a few things clear to his new ward before they got started. “Bang, we need to set a few rules to be safe,” he said. Recalling his sister’s voice to her own daughter, he said, “You need to always stay in my line of sight. I need to know where you are, all the time. If you have any questions, you can ask me, all right?”

  Bang just nodded.

  “Do you have any questions?” Graham asked him, putting him on the spot, and waited for a response.

  The boy’s face was blank, but then he asked all of a sudden, “Do you have a truck?”

  With a relieved smile, Graham knew he’d made some kind of break-through with the boy. He also remembered being a boy of five himself and an aficionado of trucks. “Yes, I have a blue truck. I thought we would use it today but now I think we’ll have to make different plans.

  “We have to leave here tonight and go somewhere that’s safer before the winter weather takes hold. We’ll start packing now and leave after dark. We have a lot of work to do.” He helped Bang down from the counter.

  Graham pulled out several Ziploc gallon bags and showed Bang how to fill and seal them with the leftover dry rice remaining in the opened twenty-five pound bag.

  Watching the child sift the little grains into the bags with a cup there in the kitchen reminded Graham of memories only recently made. Though partial to the pinto bean as versatile as it is, his mother did not restrict them to only one kind of rice. There were ten twenty-five pound bags of several different varieties left stored in the garage. It kept things from getting too boring, at least. She had stored Jasmine, Calrose, Long Grain and Basmati.

  He and his dad jokingly fought over which bag they would open next, finally settling on a system of rotation. Graham favored the Jasmine, but Dad preferred the short sticky grain, Calrose. His father argued the benefits were that it, “stuck to your ribs,” and said, “Now that’s rice that’ll get you through men’s work.”

  Here I go again, stirring up memories that will do nothing but hold me back today. Though Graham knew it was probably normal to go through his memory file after someone important passed away, he wondered if Bang also had the same issue. He hoped not, since he had the benefit of being in different surroundings. There were not as many stimuli to provoke such memories. Once they got to the cabin Graham hoped the reminiscences would subside a little. He did not want them to go away completely, just enough to prevent him from going insane.

  After showing the boy how to continue the task, he said, “I’m going to go right over there to the garage to work on a
few things. I’ll leave the door open, so if you need anything, yell.” Bang just looked up at him, nodded, and then continued his work, but Graham noticed the boy glance over to the couch where his mother had died. His memories were there too.

  Leaving Bang to his task, Graham propped open the garage door with the petrified rock his dad kept there for that purpose. The first thing that came to him in the darkness was the scent of his father.

  He flipped on the light and looked at the bikes neatly stored along the ceiling hooks. He pulled down the one his dad often rode as well as his niece’s pink Barbie bike that his parents kept for their granddaughter’s visits. He cringed at the pink sparkly tassels. Being a boy himself, he would not have dared be seen on one of these at Bang’s age in normal times. However, these were not normal times and the kid would just have to deal with it. Graham quickly pulled off the tassels and the basket, but that was the best he could do right now.

  He brought the little bike over to his dad’s workbench. He looked around and could sense the man who usually worked there on various projects. He considered using the noisy air compressor to fill the tires, but it probably was not worth the risk of attracting attention, so he opted for the handheld pump they’d always taken with them on long rides.

  Graham grew uneasy at the silence from the kitchen and went back to the door to check. The boy was still busy at the bottom of the big bag so he said, “Come out here when you’re done.”

  He’d taken care of his niece a few times, but never held the sole responsibility of a child. He decided he both liked and disliked the duty. He could not quite pinpoint why the job came as a hindrance to him, but it made him feel vulnerable somehow. He had only been the boy’s guardian for twenty-four hours now. He knew he’d have to kill anyone who would want to harm the boy and for him that came as a shock. He’d never before adopted what he thought of as the macho-man attitude but there it was.

  Back to the little bike, Graham put it down on the concrete floor and pressed his own weight down on the seat and handlebars, rolling it across the garage. He wanted to listen to the noise it made or rather see if the noise attracted attention. Noticing the typical clickety-click of the chain, he heard something unexpected. He knelt down and saw bunches of pine needles wrapped around the back wheel-slot and bits of brush in the spokes. He picked them out and cleaned it up. Next, he oiled the chain and spun the pedals to work it in. Satisfied that he’d made the bike as soundless as possible, barring the typical chain noise, he turned his attention to his own bike, doing the same.

  Next on the list, his mom’s bike cargo trailer they’d often taken along for picnics. This one consisted of a two-wheel configuration that attached with a hitch to the back wheel joint. The flat platform measured to fit a heavy duty lidded blue storage container. Repurposing this from remembered family picnics to a survival escape trek took little effort. Graham simply dusted it off, rolled it around to listen for any excess noise and oiled its moving parts.

  He attached the hitch to his bike and then noticed out of the corner of his eye, Bang standing in the doorway with his finger in his mouth. “You can come in, buddy,” he said in a cheerful tone and waved him in with his hand. Graham knew the little guy was not used to him yet and that he would have to build trust with him over time.

  “Bang, do you know how to ride a bike?” Graham asked. Like a sparkler, Bang’s face lit up.

  “Yes, I can ride. I have a bike at home. My mom takes me lots of times. We even bike to school sometimes,” Bang said, “And—”. His little face fell in an expression that echoed the one Graham had seen in his mirror that morning. A happy memory turned, in a nanosecond, to a devastation, the good thought replaced by the pain of their new reality. At least he knew the boy could speak up.

  “Well, that’s great then,” Graham said, sidestepping the strong reel of emotion clear as hell on the little kid’s face. If he did not acknowledge the pain, he hoped it would go away quicker than if they dwelled on it, talking about it.

  “Come on then. Let’s see if this will work for you,” he motioned for Bang as he pulled the pink monstrosity out for him. Graham watched as the boy looked at the bike and then up at him with a look that could kill. The kid shut down right before his eyes.

  “Look, I know it’s pink, but it’s all we have right now,” Graham said. “If we come across something more suitable for a boy we’ll trade it then.” He leaned the bike in his direction and hoped the kid would take it.

  Bang looked at it but did not move.

  “Bang, I don’t have time for this. If you ride this bike, as soon as we can, we’ll find you a better one. I promise,” Graham bargained.

  Bang simply nodded his head and grabbed the handles.

  “You’ll have to ride around in here for now and we’ll see if we need to adjust anything,” he said.

  The kid looked eager to show Graham that he could ride.

  Bang began skillfully riding the little bike around in circles. Then, when Graham realized the helmet was missing from his head, he remembered the Barbie helmet. Oh crap, there is no way that kid will go for that, he thought. He looked at Bang’s head and realized it probably would not fit him anyway because the boy had a big noggin. Discarding the girly helmet idea, Graham reached into the sports cabinet and pulled out his mom’s helmet that thankfully came in olive green.

  “Hey, Bang, stop for a minute. Let’s see if this will fit you,” he said. As the little bike skidded to a stop right in front of him, Graham realized the kid really could ride. Not only could he ride, he loved it.

  Bang’s mom had mentioned in her note that he loved cars so, of course, the kid also loved bikes. After adjusting the helmet to fit snugly, he let the boy practice a few more times around the garage. He noticed that he even stood on the pedals, leaning sidelong. This boy had some skills. At least that was one thing he did not have to worry about, unless Bang got reckless.

  “Okay, let’s adjust the seat a little higher and that will do,” he told him. Having done that, he went on. “Next, we need to start loading. We only have a little space, but we’re going to load up as much as we can with food, sleeping bags, ammo and the first aid kit.”

  Getting busy, he and Bang worked side by side collecting and stuffing as many essentials as they could into the far too small trailer tote. They used bungee cords to attach the sleeping bags over the top. Graham knew he should take several other things, but there just was not room.

  He grabbed his dad’s pocketknife, putting it into his jean pocket. Then noticing another one, he went against what he’d always thought with guns and made a new rule for himself as his father said he would need to do.

  The boy would grow up differently in this world and he needed to be prepared. He needed to be the one to teach him and that meant making new rules for this new world. He picked up the smaller pocketknife and bent down to Bang’s level. “Keep this in your pocket, buddy. It is for work, not play, do you understand?”

  The boy met his gaze with a serious face and nodded his understanding. He put the little knife deep into his own jean pocket. Graham hoped he could entrust him with such a thing. Knowing full well, the boy struck with a fit of boredom, would do just as he had done at some point. He would run his thumb along the blade causing a red line to appear. Later, his dad had told him he’d done the same thing at his age. So now, by circumstance Graham had been forced to pass down the tradition to this boy.

  Knowing he had just evoked yet another memory, he growled under his breath and retreated into the house. He went to collect a few pieces of silverware and bar soap as well as the first aid kit and the plastic shower curtain to use as a barrier against the constant drizzle. Most importantly, he went into his father’s closet, with Bang close behind him. He opened up the gun safe and collected two of his dad’s Garand rifles along with his Ruger handgun. He put the rifles into cases and donned his father’s holster at his side for the handgun. He felt awkward wearing it, but as with his own rifle, he’d soon get used to
it.

  After nightfall, they would head out. They went back to the kitchen counter for the map that he and his dad had plotted the best route out of town to the family cabin up north. His great-grandfather had passed it down and now it belonged to him alone.

  It was first employed as a trapping lodge in the twenties. Then, over the years, it came to serve as a winter hunting lodge and summer retreat for them all. They spent several weeks there each summer and in the winter, they hunted. Each visit meant making improvements.

  His grandfather had built on the bunkroom and the attached bathroom with indoor plumbing, running water and electricity. Just recently, they’d installed a new woodstove his dad found on Craigslist. Hauling the heavy cast-iron thing had made them grunt and groan for days to come, but both felt it had been worth the effort.

  The structure, built well in the beginning, had many repairs and upgrades over the years. On one visit, as a teenager, he’d helped rechink the grout and replace rotted boards. On another visit, he and Dad replaced cedar roof shingles. He suspected his dad arranged this to keep him out of trouble during the summer months.

  He just could not escape the memories.

  Having their gear all packed, including their personal backpacks, Graham plotted his and Bang’s possible route through town. Though he’d play it by ear, not committing them to any particular course, he’d adjust for the permanently stalled traffic jams and safety. Typically, they’d take the highway up near Seattle and then shoot up northeast. That was not possible now, so they’d take the back roads up and snake their way through.

  Until they bypassed the bad guy, Graham knew they might have to rough it outside until they could secure a car on the other side. With animals out on the prowl, he knew it would be better to find shelter, but he just did not know where, exactly. Since he had not ventured out lately, he really did not know what conditions he would find. Relying on memory, and not knowing how long it would take them by bike, Graham again checked the map.