The China Pandemic

by A. R. Shaw

  Even if it was not for Campos, driving his own truck out of there was not an option. The highways and overpasses were cluttered with parked cars, not to mention the animals getting more and more brazen. From there, he planned to take a wait-and-see approach. If he could predict where the bad guy hung out, then maybe he and the kid could slink through unnoticed.

  Unfortunately, there was no other way to cross the overpass, either by road or geographically on foot. They could not even hike down over the cliff of rocks lining the highway. They would just have to go as quietly as possible through the overpass and cross by the gas station.

  He hoped to get past without drawing the guy’s attention. This Campos character apparently stopped folks coming into town, not folks trying to get out. If he had to confront him, he would just reason with him or offer him food to pass through peacefully. Just in case, Graham would be armed and he would have Bang ride on his left, providing a little cover for the kid in case things got hairy.

  To get to the cabin on the outskirts of Cascade, along the Skagit River, they’d go hopefully by ‘borrowed’ truck, up the road through Fall City and Carnation. Then, they’d go finally up to Monroe but he doubted he could drive freely on Highway Two, so he opted for the less traveled back roads that would take them around the lake and then north to Granite Falls. From there, they’d take another back road through Darrington and then finally north to Cascade.

  Hopefully, all these small towns were finally deserted now. If they ran into any trouble, they could always change their route. The last thing he wanted to do was end up hiking with a five-year-old, making it an epic trek through the wilderness.

  Now that he had his plan mapped out, he also thought it might be wise to grab his dad’s binoculars so that he could scout ahead.

  Graham heard a grumbling noise coming from the little guy who was shadowing his every move today, which signaled lunchtime. Again, Graham resorted to the last of the leftover beans, forgoing the rice this time. With just enough for the two of them, he rewarmed it. After finishing, he washed their bowls and spoons, and put them back up into the cupboard.

  “Okay, Bang,” he said. “It’s time we tidy up this place so when we come back here someday, it won’t be a mess. We’re going to ride our bikes out of here tonight and I don’t know when we’ll get a chance to sleep. So, if you need to take a nap before we go, this is the time. What do you think?” he asked the boy.

  Bang hastily shook his head, and with an offended glare, answered, “I don’t take naps.”

  Note to self: Bang does not do naps. At least, he was learning more about the boy.

  Looking Bang over, he decided he needed more cold weather gear. Nightfall often brought cooler temperatures. Bike riding through the night would be quite cold indeed until they could procure a decent vehicle to drive. He checked out the hall closet for extra gloves and jackets. He found pink gloves and mittens but did not even try to pawn them off on the boy. Instead, he opted for one of his own extra black knit hats and his mom’s black knit gloves that stretched to fit all sizes.

  As he rifled through the closet, he kept thinking about the upcoming confrontation with the Campos guy. Graham thought it might be wise to stash the boy and their bikes nearby while he confronted him on foot. He would wait to decide until he could get a visual of the situation. If it were true that he had already killed two people as Hyun-Ok witnessed, there were likely more. “How crazy could this guy be?” he muttered. In a few hours, the answer would be clear.

  He looked through his mother’s hall of portraits, about which he often chided her. He looked for one with a decent likeness of them all and small enough to carry around in his wallet. He rarely carried his wallet with him now, but in the impossible event the world did indeed come back, he wanted his identification and his family picture with him. Or, if he admitted it to himself, he just really felt like taking them along with him on this journey.

  Never in a million years did he think he would trek through the woods by bike and an unknown truck to the family cabin, past bad guys and wild animals, with an Asian kid named Bang, at the end of mankind. How life had changed in the course of just a few weeks and now months. He had no idea what would become of them next year at this time. Staying alive was the plan right now.

  The night started to descend, so Graham made the last of the rice for dinner with his mom’s southern gravy recipe. He heated and then whisked together a little melted venison fat with the remaining flour and canned milk. He diluted it with water and sprinkled it liberally with salt and pepper. His dad would have been proud of the dinner. Graham offered a bowl to Bang and he wolfed it down in quick order.

  After dinner, Bang and Graham walked out to his mother’s garden. They gathered a few of his mom’s remaining prized but faded roses and took them over to the six unmarked graves. He let Bang pick which one he wanted to place on his mother’s. They stood there without saying anything. It was a solemn moment in the sunset haze, with no words needed between them.

  Graham believed Bang was what he’d heard others say—a child possessed with an old soul. His silent actions today as they prepared their escape bore witness to this characteristic. He knew they’d get along well once Bang stopped resenting him.

  After their impromptu memorial, Graham went around the inside of the house, making sure all the windows were locked, turned off the water heater, and then after taking one last ceremonial potty, he shut off the incoming main water valve. After he was satisfied that he had completed his checklist of the house, he securely locked the front door from the inside. It was all as if they were just going on vacation.

  They donned their backpacks and headed to the garage. Along the way, he turned off the few lights. Grabbing his rifle, he slung it over his back to have it at the ready. He reached over to Bang, secured his helmet and retied his shoes while down at his level. Bang put on his gloves, and to Graham’s surprise, he produced his bow and arrow with a strap that secured over his head and around his back. It was a simply carved device. The little bow looked perfect for his size, but Graham doubted it would be good for defense. Nevertheless, if it made him feel more secure to wear the contraption, he did not have a problem with it.

  After checking for any dangers, be it man or beast, Graham popped the garage door latch manually, making as little noise as possible. They pulled their gear out in the darkened driveway, securing the door behind them. He and Bang headed out, riding side by side with Graham pulling the little supply trailer with the rifle case sticking out awkwardly. With the unknown before them, they did not even think to look back.

  6 Bang

  Draped in darkness, the autumn hued trees didn’t have their typical daytime appeal. Instead, they resembled the frightening enormous goblins like Dokkaebi, from Korean folklore. They were the mythical mischief-makers that Bang once enjoyed his father telling him about. Afterward, he would have nightmares. His mother would discourage his father from sharing the stories, but Bang just couldn’t get enough of the tall tales.

  Bang imagined the tinted foliage of the trees in the descending dusk had the likeness of the fabled creatures. They were known to play tricks on some unsuspecting mortals who traveled as he and Graham were doing now. They would transform out of inanimate objects to challenge travelers to an impromptu wrestling match to guarantee their safe passage. Bang imagined this would be really scary about now. He did not want to find out what would happen if he failed, though winning would often earn you a magical item, if the tale were to be believed. He moved in to ride a little closer to Graham, just in case the Dokkaebi appeared. He thought Graham could probably wrestle better than he could.

  As they headed down the street to get to the neighborhood entrance, they quickly approached the main drive. All they could see were stationary vehicles all along the highway overpass, in every conceivable direction, leading up to the gas station. A light could be seen in the distance, but at that point, no one within sight. The ever-present fire glow to the west lit up the darkn
ess in the distance. It seemed to grow a little each day.

  Bang missed his mother. He didn’t want to be there at night in the dark. He tried to honor his mother’s wishes though. She told him to obey Graham and to help him where he could. He tried to remember that, but his heart ached for her and he wanted to go home. At first, he hated Graham, but then after he saw him crying in the hallway he knew his heart ached too. Maybe he isn’t such a bad guy. He’d already saved Bang from the dogs and because his mother wanted him to trust Graham, he decided to stay with him.

  7 Marcy, Macy & Sheriff

  Events forced Marcy and Macy to learn how to drive. It had been weeks now and they were tired of waiting for their dad to show up. They’d discovered their mom dead from the virus the night before last after they broke into her bathroom and found her on the floor. Their mom had locked herself away so as not to expose the girls, but even with the virus all around, in their house, in the air, neither one of them became ill. Afterward, they moved her dead weight over to her bed. They each took one end, stopping several times. Mom weighed more than they had expected. Of course, they were both slight, though, at fifteen, the twins told each other they were really quite strong.

  Afterward, they washed Mom’s face with a cool washcloth and pulled the covers over her. Not certain what else to do, they admitted the time had come to make their way to Dad’s house. They took turns calling him, but he never answered. This was not new to them, so they kept at it.

  “He has to answer at some time, right?” Marcy asked her sister.

  So many were dead in their neighborhood and with Mom gone now, they were getting really scared. After crying themselves to sleep, they woke to a new reality. Dad lived at the apartments in Mountain View. To get there, they would have to drive down the highway, a trip they had done many times before as passengers. So they pulled Mom’s keys out of her purse. “She would want Dad to take care of us now,” Macy said.

  The Williams, who had lived next door, were gone, or at least no one answered when they knocked the day before. They did not hear anyone anywhere except for the dog packs. Not only that, but late last night, they were awakened by loud yelling coming from the street outside. Therefore, the girls went downstairs to look out the front windows. They witnessed a man running down their road with several dogs chasing him. He screamed and screamed as he ran out of their view. Only more screaming came after that, and then silence. The girls clung to one another seeking mutual comfort, too afraid to open the door. They were not sure what happened to him. After the quiet had come finally, they both cried themselves to sleep again on the living room sofa.

  Too scared even to go to the bathroom alone, the twins made the decision to head over to Dad’s by themselves. Considering the circumstances, they did not think he’d mind them trying to drive. “This constitutes an emergency,” Marcy justified their plan. Macy agreed. “And in an emergency, new rules are made.”

  They had seen Mom and Dad do this plenty of times, so how hard could it be? Since they’d probably stay at Dad’s for a while, they both packed overnight bags. They’d both slept in late, so tried to hurry, because they wanted to make it to Dad’s before nightfall.

  Macy suggested that she should drive first, to which Marcy said, “You know how it works. We have to play rock, paper, scissors.”

  Macy rolled her eyes but started the ritual anyway. Their old ceremonial game seemed childish to her now, but that’s how they resolved their negotiations. Having an identical twin had some drawbacks. Marcy was bossier and Macy figured it was not worth the ensuing battle to point out that they were old enough now to make their own independent decisions.

  Macy having decided on rock, Marcy, of course, paper. “You always win,” Macy grumbled.

  Sometimes, Marcy could read her mind, she thought. Was not it enough they mirrored each other with blue eyes and blonde wavy hair? It just was not fair, but perhaps that’s what had kept them alive and together. Macy felt ashamed of herself for being upset with her sister. It would indeed kill her, too, if Marcy died of the virus like Mom, and left her all alone.

  Marcy grabbed the keys out of Macy’s hand and they walked out to the attached garage, making sure the car doors were closed before they let the garage door up. Adjusting the seat so that her feet could just touch the pedals, Marcy checked to see if she could see out the rearview mirror.

  Marcy looked over at Macy and said, “Put your seatbelt on, Mace, this might be bumpy.”

  Before Marcy could start the ignition, Macy advised her, “You have to move that stick to the R like Mom does.”

  “I know, I watch her too. Watched her, I mean,” Marcy said, a small crack in her voice. She started the ignition, hearing it complain far too loudly, and then removed her hand. “Oh, I think it’s on now,” she said. Then she moved the stick to R to make it go backwards but nothing happened, except for a slight movement in reverse. “Okay, what do we do to make it go?” she asked Macy.

  “Um, you have to use the pedals. I think the middle one is the brake and the right one is the gas. Try putting your foot on the gas a little,” Macy said.

  Barely pressing the pedal on the right, she could hear the engine get louder, but still no take off, so she let off the pedal. Perplexed, Macy noticed the other handle next to the drive stick. “This is the parking brake, I think.” She reached over and pushed the button to lower the level. Then they started sliding backwards down the inclined driveway and Marcy screamed, then Macy yelled, “Hit the brake!”

  Both girls lurched forward, nearly hitting the dash as Marcy stomped on the brake. Shaking now, they looked out the window, having just barely exited into the road below the drive’s incline. Macy noticed an audience of a single curious boxer dog, sitting on his haunches, panting. At first glance, the dog looked like any once beloved neighborhood pet. This one, she’d seen on a leash walking with its owner many times before in their previous life.

  Then she noticed another dog. Macy said, “Look, they’re coming now. Quick, close the garage door so they can’t get in.”

  The garage door closed just in time. A blood-stained Akita showed up, baring his teeth at the girls. The noise encouraged his entourage to do the same, even the once docile boxer joined in. “Time to go,” Marcy said, lifting her foot off the brake. The car slid back as the dogs went from a low growl to a ferocious barking which caused the girls to scream again. Then, remembering the brake, Marcy pressed it again, but this time, not so hard. Macy reached over and began to spin the steering wheel to move the car onto the road below, like their mom used to do.

  With dogs trailing behind them and jumping up at the windows, Macy pushed the shift stick from R to D and yelled at Marcy, who was too distracted by a German Shepherd snarling at her window to press the gas pedal.

  “Press the gas, Marcy!” Macy yelled, trying to get her attention again. Some part of Marcy acknowledged and stomped on the gas as Macy tried to steer from the passenger’s seat. The dog pack chased them down the road, but soon gave up since more accessible prey was available to them.

  “Slow down!” Macy yelled and Marcy let off the gas half way. Thankful the road was clear of many obstacles; they soon approached a stop sign.

  “Mom made this look so easy,” Marcy said as she pressed the brakes again, which stopped them fifteen feet before the stop sign. At least this time, they only leaned forward a little when she applied the brakes.

  “This just takes practice, Marce,” Macy said. “Just move up a little more so we can turn on the main road.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do!” Marcy shouted. “You try to do this for the first time with wild dogs trying to get you. I just saved your life, Mace, so you should be grateful instead of giving me a hard time about it.”

  “I was not giving you a hard time, Marcy. I’m just trying to help!” Macy yelled back.

  Approaching a stop sign, Marcy removed her foot from the gas pedal and stomped the brake again. They both flew forward sharply and then back again. “Marcy! Not
so hard.”

  “Sorry!” yelled Marcy, clearly frustrated about this driving thing.

  With Marcy’s foot easing off the brake pedal, the Grand Am glided slowly forward. This time, Marcy employed her newly learned technique of softly applying pressure to the brake. Both girls leaned forward, turning their blonde curls left and then right in unison, checking for oncoming cars. They’d seen their parents do this many times so they imitated the act. Since no cars were out and about, Marcy turned the wheel, not paying attention to the lines on the road. Her driving was simply an effort to stay on the road, because being in the middle just seemed like a good idea. The closer they got into town, the fewer cars they had to dodge on the street anyway. If one did come the other way, she figured she would pull over then.

  Macy checked behind. No more dogs followed them. Turning back to face front, Macy knew there had been a few straight miles ahead of them before they got to the highway turnoff. She began to look around the suburban town. Up ahead, the first stop light intersection came into view and there were cars stopped in one lane, even though the light had turned green.

  Marcy slowed down as the lane divided, one for going straight, the other for turning. She came to a stop trying to assess the situation. They waited behind the gray SUV in front of them at the green light. They had rehearsed this scenario many times in the past and both girls thought the guy should have started moving by now, but he did not.

  “Honk the horn,” Macy suggested as the idea came to her.

  Marcy studied the steering wheel, looking for the button to press. She finally noticed the horn icon and pressed it, allowing the intrusive sound to disturb the afternoon silence all around them. Birds flew up in haste along the street side where they were searching for French fries, long gone by now.