Cough

by Druga, Jacqueline

  Dr. Harmon pressed his lips tightly together and hands in his pocket exhaled. “I do. But in my medical opinion. It doesn’t matter. At this rate... it’s already too late.”

  <><><><>

  His brother said to meet him on Downy Road, but Albert was already there. He felt a sense of obligation to check on those who stayed in the line of traffic, bring them water. Most of all Albert felt compelled to go as close to the shut down as possible.

  Over twenty four hours earlier, the military rolled into and around town. Then they just focused around town.

  Satellite photos showed the barricades even though there wasn’t a huge population in Littlefield, Albert wondered how they were managing to keep everyone in. How the barricades were overrun.

  He toted a red wagon filled with food and water. He had a good mile to reach the front of the line, it wouldn’t have taken him long had he not slowed down to look.

  There was no help he could offer. Families from the cars had set up camp outside their vehicles. The sounds of coughing and crying were strong. The noise of the squeaky wheeled wagon was buried beneath the sounds of the sick.

  Why didn’t they go home? Why did they choose to wait it out?

  He gave water to them that was all he could do.

  Mr. Montgomery had his wife on a leash made from his belt. As Albert passed their car, the fifty year old woman raced out, swinging her arms, her mouth moved as if she were trying to say something. Sounds emerged, nothing in the form of words.

  Albert stared at her for the longest time, her deeply blood shot eyes, blood laced nose. Her skin pale.

  He reached out his hand to her, she was fevered.

  “I’m sorry,” Albert said. “I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

  “Me, too.”

  Albert jolted at the sound of the voice. Mr. Montgomery came from the others side of the car. He was ill. That was obviously.

  “I didn’t know what else to do with her. Last I heard, before my car ran out of gas was some people hallucinated. She’s not dangerous, well maybe to herself.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Mr. Montgomery coughed. “I suppose I should be glad both of us aren’t that way.”

  Albert nodded. Trying to avoid talking about it. “Do you need anything?”

  “No.”

  Albert started to walk.

  “I thought of killing her,” Mr. Montgomery said.

  Albert stopped.

  “Was that wrong?”

  “Thinking about it?” Albert paused. “No. She’s suffering.”

  “I’m been thinking about it since she got like this three hours ago. She’s enraged, crying, screaming, fevered. How long? How long will she be like this? Will she live? Die?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “So, thinking about it isn’t wrong ... is doing it?”

  “It depends on what you think is wrong,” said Albert. “What is the lesser evil?”

  “I guess. Will God forgive me?”

  “Honestly.” Albert squinted and looked up to the sky. “I don’t think God is paying much attention right now.”

  Mr. Montgomery leaned against his car. He winced when his wife ran forward then slammed back.

  Albert walked on.

  About ten cars later, Albert heard a single shot. He didn’t question what that was, he knew. Just as he turned to peer over his shoulder, he heard another. That told Albert enough. He didn’t look back. No need to. He moved forward.

  <><><><>

  Stokes had appointed himself ration supervisor. While electricity was still up and running, he made his way to Breyer’s market and collected all things that wouldn’t last much longer, with or without power. The big thing being the large amount of bologna that the store pre sliced for the Jumbo deli meat sale.

  He took a good hour packing the sliced meat that was held in the cooler, then loaded a truck with bread and milk.

  Wells had sent word to the townspeople to mark their homes with a yellow marker if no one was sick, red if they were, black if they were just waiting.

  “Please change your flags so we can keep track.’ Wells urged.

  Problem was, a lot of the townspeople tried unsuccessfully to leave. Though a large group had abandoned their cars and headed back to their houses.

  He made stops at the houses that were flagged, because they were the only houses he knew were occupied. People were grateful for the food.

  Stokes didn’t mind doing his part, but the empty streets void of people made it eerie. There were a few more bodies on the street. Some wrapped in blankets, curtains, all placed by the sidewalk. He made a note of where they were.

  He drove down Macy’s street.

  She was the last house on the right.

  No flag, yellow flag, red, black, black.

  It seemed the yellow flags were few and far between.

  Some of those homes took extra precaution. Stokes could see the plastic placed over windows and doors. They were air tight. Stokes had no doubt that they would survive and ride it out.

  A single back cloth hung between the two doors of Macy’s duplex and as he pulled over, he watched Macy walk out and change the flag. His heart dropped to his stomach when he saw it was red.

  Immediately, he jumped from the car.

  “Macy?” He called out with question. “Who is sick?”

  She lowered her head. “Lila.”

  “Oh, man.”

  “Conrad, I want to go and check on her. I heard her coughing. It started about an hour ago. She sent me a message to stay away. But she needs help.”

  “Have you talked to her since?”

  “She stopped texting, I’m scared, and it’s quiet. But I don’t want to expose …”

  “No.” He held up his hand. “Stay away. You guys have not gotten sick. Don’t test the odds. Did she say she was just coughing? Was there any other noise.”

  “You mean was she violent like the news said people are getting?” Macy asked. “Not that I heard. She said she was sick and couldn’t stop coughing. No other noise.”

  Stokes placed his hands on Macy’s shoulder. “Go on in the house. I’ll go check on her.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I’m positive.” Stokes gave an upward nod of his head to signal to Macy to go into her side of the duplex and then after he knew she was inside, he knocked on Lila’s door.

  No reply.

  “Lila,” Stokes called out. “This is Agent Stokes. I hear you’re sick. I’m coming in. Okay?”

  He waited, when he didn’t receive a reply, he turned the knob and opened the door. “Lila,” he called out when he walked in.

  The house was quiet, too quiet for someone that had a coughing virus and that gave Stokes a bad feeling. There weren’t any particular smells, either.

  “Lila.”

  She wasn’t on the first floor. Stokes somehow expected to discover her, like they did Rege, in the kitchen. But she was a contact victim, according to Kimble’s research, contact victims lived longer. They didn’t die immediately like the ones who were exposed to the pure virus.

  He peered out the kitchen window to see if she was in the backyard. She wasn’t.

  The duplex was small. Two rooms on the first floor. A living room and kitchen, the staircase to the upstairs was located in the living room.

  Stokes walked up, gliding his hand against the stained wooden railing as his feet creaked on the floorboards of every step.

  The second floor had two bedrooms and a bathroom, and as he stood at the top of the steps he felt a breeze hit his right arm. In a home that should have had air conditioning on, there was a window open somewhere.

  The light bang of a door, made him jolt and he turned to his right to see the ajar door, hitting off the frame from the force of the breeze.

  He wanted to call out again, but knew it was useless.

  He moved down the small hallway and pushed open the door.

  As soon as he stepped inside, he knew his sea
rch was over.

  The bedroom was painted a pretty blue with white lace curtains. The full size bed had a blue and white quilt and tucked neatly under them lying peacefully was Lila.

  Stokes didn’t need to check her to know she had passed, but he went over to her anyhow.

  She looked peaceful, not sick. She lay on her back, propped up on a pillow. Her hands rested on her stomach on top of a bible and pair of rosary beads.

  Her eyes were closed. It was evident she didn’t suffer. Was it that she was too frail to begin with to handle it? Then Stokes saw it. The half full glass of water on the nightstand next to her and the open and empty prescription pill bottle.

  He looked at the label. They were pain pills for someone else. Stokes wasn’t sure how many had been in the bottle, but after checking for a pulse and finding none, he knew there were enough.

  Lila knew there was enough.

  Lila also knew the virus was bad and deadly. She made the decision that before the virus controlled her, she was taking control. A part of Stokes envied that strength.

  He lifted the quilt to cover her and then he stepped from the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

  Despite the fact that Macy told Stokes she would wait inside her house, it was driving her insane. It was duplex and the one thing about living in a shared building was noises travelled through the thin walls.

  She immediately went into her side and sat on the staircase where she could hear.

  She heard him call out, walk around and more so, she heard him go up the steps.

  It was only a few minutes and he came back down and upon hearing that, she went back outside.

  Stokes was walking out.

  “How is she?” Macy asked.

  Stokes pulled the door closed and stepped outside. “She … she passed away.”

  Macy felt her face tense up. Her body went rigid and she fought back any emotions. “I thought the news said… they said people didn’t die right away.”

  “She ... she took her own life. Pain pills.”

  Macy folded her arms close to her body and sighed out. “I can’t say that I blame her.”

  “Me either.”

  Stokes paced across the porch. “Listen. You guys... you guys have fought it off this far. Just keep hanging on. You’re neighbors, they’re staying inside. Just avoid people. There are some that won’t get it at all. There’s a vaccine.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just know.”

  “Does it work?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just … know.”

  “You just know.” Macy nodded “Where is it?”

  “Unfortunately, they have to produce it. But it’s out there, I swear. You just have to hold on long enough.”

  “Will we?”

  “Will you what?”

  “Hold on long enough? Live long enough.”

  “I want to say yes. But I don’t know.”

  “You aren’t worried, Conrad,” she said. “You move bodies, checked on Lila, you’re in town. Is the reason you know about this vaccine because you had it?”

  Stokes didn’t reply.

  “I won’t get mad. I just need to know. Actually, I’d be hopeful if you said you got the vaccine.”

  “I … got the vaccine.”

  Again, arms folded tightly, Macy nodded.

  Stokes looked to his right. On that porch he stood right before the living room window. He pointed. “The boys.” He indicated to the boys sitting on the floor playing a video game. “They seem okay.”

  “They’re fine. Not sick and they’re going about their lives stuck in the house. They’re playing video games and dealing with their dad’s death.”

  “You?”

  “Me? I’m scared to death. But knowing, that out there, somewhere there’s a vaccine, a means to an end other than death, makes me feel a lot less scared. Cause it means out there, somewhere,” she said. “There’s still hope.”

  <><><><>

  In the quiet of the evening, the coughs sounded louder.

  Wells was a beaten man, both physically and emotionally. He had just moved nine bodies out of the fire hall and Dr. Harmon said that he expected the rest to go before the next wave hit.

  The next wave.

  The state of delusion that a lot of the ill experienced was a blessing to them. It started out strong then after about twelve hours, while still suffering from hallucinations, their bodies were giving in. They from running and fighting, thrashing and banging, to convulsing and flailing their bodies as they fought to stand up.

  They’re eyes turned bloodshot and they’re skin and lips pale blue. They lacked oxygen, struggled to breathe, to cough, and to expel any of that blood trapped inside. When they did breathe it sounded like a gurgling wheeze.

  But they didn’t know.

  They were trapped in their own minds, fighting whatever battle their minds projected. The others, the remaining that didn’t suffer from delusions, agonized over every shallow breath. After leaving the fire hall, Wells decide, before he stopped for the night, before he caught his breath, he wanted to do a check.

  He took each exit out of town, checking the long line of cars jammed together.

  A part of him guessed a few townspeople took Old Mill Creek out of town. A hiking path that followed the stream into the forest and eventually, led out past the highway. More than likely beyond the National Guard Check point.

  If they stayed in the woods, it was a good one day journey. The thought of people leaving that route scared Wells, because if they were infected, if they were carriers, they were taking it to somewhere that possibly wasn’t exposed.

  Wells was on the final exit. Things were calm. Coughs carried in the air and an occasional car horn would beep.

  He assessed who was out there. Like the other four exits, so many ill were in and around their cars. More bodies, more townspeople to pick up in a day.

  Those who didn’t get sick, left and headed back home. Some stayed with family members. But there were a lot of vacant cars.

  In the dark he walked the line of traffic toward the front car. The person that made a hasty attempt to leave only to be barricaded in. As he approached, he saw his brother Albert a little before the car, standing by the newly erected concrete barriers.

  Albert just stared out.

  Wells approached him. “Evening.”

  “Oh, hey, evening Eugene. What brings you out?” he asked.

  “Just checking. You?”

  “Watching.” Albert pointed. “Soldiers.”

  Wells looked. A good fifty feet from the concrete barriers were army trucks, beyond them were bright spotlights.

  “They moved further back,” Wells said.

  “Yeah, did that this afternoon. Probably will be gone in a day or two.”

  “Please don’t tell it’s because society is giving up.”

  Albert faced him “It’s bad out there. I know you haven’t had time to listen to the news since they unblocked it, but it’s bad. These soldiers have families. My guess is they’ll go find them. Wouldn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I suppose I would.”

  “How’s it going in town? I’d be there more but …”

  “I need you getting info. If anything comes through, any news about fighting this thing, I want to know.”

  “I understand.”

  Wells stared out. “This thing is killing me. We’ve lived here most of our lives and to watch this town ….”

  “At least it’s not Cleveland.”

  “What happened in Cleveland?”

  “Lights went out already.”

  “What?”

  “No one going to work, no one mans the switch.”

  “Jesus,” Wells sighed out.

  “Let’s hope this ends soon.”

  “Let’s hope. Because it’s a struggle. I have that feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Every twenty-four hours is someone else’s seventy-two hour mark.
It’s a hard thing to carry when you keep thinking, will this hour be mine?”

  “Well, you don’t have to worry about that.”

  Wells didn’t respond.

  “You don’t have to worry about getting sick, Eugene, you took the shot of vaccine.”

  Wells looked at him.

  “You didn’t take the shot?”

  “I couldn’t.” Wells shrugged. “How could I do that? This is my town. I run this town, protect this town. If my town was going to play Russian Roulette with a death sentence, I have to stand with them.”

  “They need a leader, not a martyr. You can’t die alongside them.”

  “Better than watching them die and knowing I cheated.”

  “Easy for you to say. You made me take that shot. What am I supposed to do if you get sick? You’re my brother.”

  “It’ll be fine.” Wells looked down at his watch. “And I’m gonna head back. Shotsy’s is still open. Wanna get a drink?”

  “I’ll be there in a few.”

  “Gonna stay and watch the soldiers?”

  “Something like that.”

  Wells laid his hand on Albert’s shoulder. “If I am meant to beat this I will.” He gave a firm squeeze and walked away.

  Albert wanted to scream. He didn’t show the emotions when his brother told him. Deep down inside he felt the crushing blow of his brother’s words. Didn’t his brother see? So nonchalantly, his brother informed him he was playing with death.

  Eugene was all that Albert had left in the God forsaken world. He had held on to the fact that they would still be together even if the thing decided to wipe man into extinction. Now that ‘brother to brother until the end’ was a pipe dream.

  Not only did Eugene tell him he didn’t take the injection, he also in so many words informed Albert that he condemned him to a life alone if by chance he succumbed to the virus.

  All the technology, all the information, right there at his fingertips in the hidden basement of his home, and there was nothing that could be done to help his brother.

  Or was there?

  Someone knew something. They had to. Just like there was a vaccine, there had to be a way to feign off the virus other than hiding away.