by Tim Morgan
Glints of brass caught Chris’ eye. “They put up one hell of a fight,” he said.
Dave walked up to the trucks. They were parked in a V-shape blocking the road, one mashed up against the other. There was just enough space along the Jersey barriers to walk a bike through. The doors were closed. He climbed up and looked inside the cab. Empty. No blood, no sign of a struggle. “Nobody was in the trucks,” he called. Dave walked around the back and checked the cargo area. There were some boxes half filled with brown plastic envelopes labeled “MRE”, but no people or blood. He walked back to the Humvee. “Looks like they left in a hurry. There’s some stuff in the back of the truck, looks kind of like what we ate at the camp. I think it’s food, but that’s it. No people.” Dave looked at the trucks, the Humvee, and the road. He stood a while, thinking, trying to put together what happened.
“It was a last stand,” Meghan said.
“Look at the bodies,” Chris said, “there must have been thousands of them.” Dave envisioned a group of soldiers standing in a semicircle, could hear them barking encouragement and orders to one another. They must have fought until their ammunition ran out, then they probably went hand-to-hand. The end would have come swiftly as the stinking mass enveloped them in a wave of living death.
“No,” Dave said. “This wasn’t a last stand. Look at the way the trucks are parked. These guys held the zombies off so others could get away.” He walked back to his bike. Dave tapped the kickstand up. “Come on, we can walk around here.”
They walked their bikes around the trucks. On the other side Chris and Dave climbed up inside the cargo area, picking things out of the meal packs that they wanted while Meghan kept watch. They took matches, tissues, and chewing gum along with a few meal packets. Dave grabbed six spoons. Chris packed a handful of Tootsie rolls then went off to the Jersey barriers to piss. Meghan found half a bottle of hand sanitizer on the floor that she put in her pack.
Everyone took some gum as they started riding again. They rode in silence, chewing and pedaling and watching the side streets for any sign of movement. The only things that moved were blowing papers and a few birds. Within a couple blocks the smell dissipated and the air was heavy and damp but clean.
“Birds,” Meghan said. “There are still birds.”
“They must be too fast for the zombies,” Dave said.
“They’re survivors,” Chris said.
At street level there were smashed windows and brown stains. Here and there they would see trails of blood that would run a few yards then disappear. One looked like a big brownish splat, two sneakers sprawled out on the pavement a few feet away. Meghan saw something bloody hanging out of one of the sneakers. It registered somewhere in her mind, but she knew she had to keep riding.
Chris spit his gum out. “Reminds me of hurricane Katrina. You guys remember that?”
“Kind of,” Meghan said. “Only with Katrina there were live people around.”
“It was a hurricane, too.” Dave said. “It passed quickly. The government screwed up the response.”
“This will pass too,” Chris said.
“You think so?” Meghan asked.
“Sure. I bet the President is somewhere working on a cure now. He’s got the best people in the world with him.”
“The government couldn’t get its act together for a hurricane, and they had plenty of warning,” Dave said. “What makes you think they can handle this?”
“You’re kidding, right? I mean this is the U.S., not some third world ghetto. We’re number one,” Chris said. “We’re going to get through this.”
“Really?” Dave asked. “It’s been what, three weeks since we hit the refugee camp? I haven’t seen anything that makes me feel anyone’s got a clue about how to handle this.”
“How about the soldiers back at the roadblock? What about the camp we stayed in outside Minneapolis? They were doing a pretty good job. How about those guys in the Humvees in front of the trucks?” Chris shouted.
“We were in the same camp, right? There weren’t enough port-a-potties, there wasn’t enough food. That’s why we left, remember? Or is your dumb jock brain not capable of remembering?”
“Guys,” Meghan said.
“What did you just say?” Chris shouted back. They stopped their bikes.
Dave felt awful for shooting off his mouth but couldn’t help but keep going. “I said your stupid jock brain can’t remember anything,” Dave said.
“Guys,” Meghan said, with a bit more urgency.
“How about you step off that bike and we settle this—here and now?” Chris said, setting his kickstand down. Dave set his kickstand. They were getting off their bikes when Meghan spoke.
“Guys,” she said, “Guys! Listen!” Dave and Chris shut up. There was a noise on the wind—a faint moan. It built, crested, and then faded out. Then it seemed to build from somewhere else, fading to silence.
Chris and Dave looked at one another. “We better get out of here,” Dave said.
“Good idea,” Chris said. “You’re a pain in my ass, Dave.’
“Ditto,” Dave said. “We good?”
“Yeah, we’re good.” They started riding. They zipped past the burned-out hull of a taxi. “You think they heard us?”
“I hope not,” Dave said. He wiped sweat from his brow and took a sip of water. “Meghan, how far until we’re out of here?”
“It should be just over this—brakes!” Meghan said. The three of them skidded to a halt at the edge of a blown-out bridge. The road went down an embankment thirty, maybe forty feet to a raging river.
“This sucks,” Dave said. Meghan and Chris shot him dirty looks. Dave shrugged. “Is there another way across?”
Meghan tapped her GPS. “I’m looking,” she said. Why, oh why does this have to happen to us? Why couldn’t Dad have bought me the one that could automatically plan an alternate route?
“What makes you think they didn’t blow up the other bridges?” Chris said.
“It doesn’t matter to me whether they did or they didn’t,” Dave said, “If there are zombies on this side, we need to find a way to that side.”
“Fair enough,” Chris said.
“Okay, the good news is there’s another bridge in Davenport,” Meghan said.
“What’s the bad news?” Chris asked.
“It’s forty miles away,” Meghan said.
“Shit! It’ll be dark before we get there,” Dave said. “We’d have to spend a night in the tent.”
“We can make it,” Chris insisted. “Let’s push it. Maybe the soldiers went there.”
“Chris, I’m tired,” Meghan said. “I’m really hungry, and I don’t want to sleep in a tent tonight.”
“There are plenty of buildings with the second or third floor intact. I bet there’s still water. We can hide in one of them. Hunker down overnight and figure out how to get out of here.” Dave said. Meghan was with Dave on this one.
“We’ve got plenty of daylight—we need to keep moving,” Chris insisted. “We can ride through the night.”
“Listen to me, Chris… I can’t—“ Meghan said.
“Yes you can! We need to keep going. We could be just over the river from safety!” Chris said.
“Or it could be crawling with those things!” Dave said. “Think about someone besides you for once.”
“Let’s vote,” Meghan said. She pulled off her helmet and tossed her reflector in. The others followed her lead. Chris reached in and pulled out the red triangle. “Dave wins,” Meghan said. “We hunker down.”
Chris handed Dave his reflector. “I didn’t want to keep riding anyway,” Chris said.
They rode a few blocks to an office building. The first floor windows were smashed. Sparkly nodules covered the pavement and the inside of the floor. They brought the bikes inside and made their way to the second floor.
The second floor was remarkably intact. All the doors were still closed and locked. On the third floor they found an open one—a dent
ist’s office. Chris checked the door as Meghan and Dave walked in. “This is pretty solid,” he said. “The sidelight is reinforced, too.”
Meghan walked into the exam area while Dave checked the waiting room. There were a few chairs, some magazines, and newspapers. One headline read MUMBAI VIRUS NEW AIDS EPIDEMIC? Dave walked up to the reception counter. “I’ve got this awful toothache . . . ”
The office was situated on the corner of the building, giving a pretty good view of the southern part of town. Meghan played with the light switch, turning the lights on and off. She set her laptop down on the counter and plugged it in. It’ll be nice to get a full charge, she thought. She checked the desk drawers. Yes! She grabbed two fistfuls of sample toothpaste and dental floss, spreading the bounty out on the counter. “I’ve got toothpaste,” she shouted into the other room.
“Nice!” Dave said.
Meghan walked to the windows. She scanned the town, her eyes straining for any sign of movement. She saw nothing but birds. Her hand found the blinds. She turned the pleats in her hand, gauging how thick the fabric was. It looks thick. Maybe we can sleep with the lights on tonight. That’d be a treat. And a toilet that flushes and lights. Heaven!
“Hey guys, check this out!” Chris said.
Just off the reception desk was a small kitchenette. It had a four place table and a small microwave. Above the microwave was a cabinet stocked with soups and ramen noodles. Off in the corner were a tiny refrigerator and a spring water bubbler. The bubbler had almost a full bottle on it. On top of the bubbler was a deck of cards.
“Nice!” Dave said.
For lunch that day they had ramen noodle cups and cold water that tasted like water, not plastic. As their ramen brewed, Meghan took their hands and led them in prayer. Dave and Chris hesitated a moment, then joined hands. “God, thank you for the safety you’ve given us today. Give us another day that we may see our loved ones again, and please keep them from harm. Amen.”
“Amen,” Dave and Chris answered. Then everyone started eating.
“Back home I hated this stuff,” Chris said. “I always thought it was too salty. Now I can’t get enough of it.”
“It’s good if you compare it to the stuff the soldiers gave us,” Dave said.
“I’m thankful we have it,” Meghan said. “And a safe place to sleep.”
“Yeah,” Dave said.
The three of them ate in silence. Meghan smoothed her bangs away from her eyes. “The blinds are pretty thick,” Meghan said. “I think we can sleep with the lights on if we close them.”
“Works for me,” Dave said.
“Fine with me,” Chris said.
“You think we’ll get home before the snow falls?” Meghan asked.
“I hope so,” Dave said.
“Amen,” Chris said.
They sat in uneasy silence. “Who wants to play cards?” Dave asked.
SIX
Atlanta, GA (UPI). Pakistan today reported it has detected the Mumbai virus in two villages along its border with India, the first confirmed cases outside India. Tensions between the nuclear armed regional powers are high. Pakistan has begun fortifying its border with additional troops to prevent further transmission of the virus.
The United Nations is calling for talks between the two countries in an effort to defuse a potential flashpoint along the Pakistani-Indian frontier.
“Why are you crying?” She was from the party at UMass and Chris couldn’t remember her name. Justina, maybe?
“I just got life insurance at work and had to take an AIDS test. It came back positive. You need to get checked.”
In that instant Chris became a void, an empty shell enveloped by a fear greater than any he had ever known.. How can this be happening to me? This can’t be happening to me. I feel fine.
“No, there’s got to be some kind of mistake. The test is wrong. It has to be wrong.”
“The test isn’t wrong, Chris. I work in a hospital. They do two tests—a quick one and a more detailed one. Both came back positive.”
A huge lump hung in Chris’ throat. He swallowed hard, his mouth dry. “How could you do this to me?”
“Don’t you dare blame this on me. You’re the one who came on to me. You weren’t exactly worried about protection, either.”
This can’t be happening to me. I have my whole life ahead of me. I don’t want to die! I’m 18! “Just because you have it doesn’t mean I do, right?” Why did I have to get drunk and do this skank? What was I thinking? If I get out of this I’m never beer goggling again.
“I don’t know, but you need to get checked.”
Being 18 Chris could dismiss himself from school. He made an appointment with Dr. Montgomery that afternoon. He felt a little funny sitting in the waiting room full of toys and Curious George books, but the embarrassment of being seen at his pediatrician’s office was the last thing on Chris’ mind.
Dr. Montgomery listened to Chris’ story, took some notes, nodded a lot.
“So what do you think?” Chris asked.
“How long has it been?”
“About three weeks.”
“Are you having any flu-like symptoms?”
Chris thought about that for a minute. “I do feel kind of tired, but I haven’t slept the last couple nights either.”
“That’s understandable. Let’s do a blood test.” Dr. Montgomery made a few more notes and took a test kit from the cabinet.
Chris pulled his sleeve midway up his bicep. “If I’m infected, how long before it hits me?”
“HIV infection isn’t usually detectable for at least three months, sometimes as long as six. There will be times where you may feel like you’ve got the flu. Full-blown AIDS usually develops somewhere between six and ten years after exposure.”
“That’s a long time,” Chris said.
Dr. Montgomery nodded. He prepared Chris’ arm and poked the needle into his skin. Chris turned away and winced. “A lot can happen in ten years,” Dr. Montgomery said.
“What about my parents?” Chris said.
“That’s up to you. You’re eighteen,” Dr. Montgomery said. “Unless you say otherwise, what we discuss is held in confidence. Would you like me to call them?”
“No, not yet. Let’s wait until the results come back. How long?”
“Three weeks, but I don’t expect to find anything right now. We’ll have you back in a couple months for another test. Until we know for sure, let’s assume you are infected. You’ll need to be careful, especially if you bleed. If you have sex you’ll need to use a condom at all times.” Dr. Montgomery handed Chris a few pamphlets. “There are some confidential counseling programs run out of Lowell General and Saints Memorial. The numbers are in here. Let me know if you need anything else.”
Chris was numb, the words ringing in his head: let’s assume you are infected. If he cut himself shaving or threw up because he got a bad cheeseburger in the café, could he infect his pain-in-the-ass kid brother Danny? He couldn’t even think about sex, and at this point doubted he ever would again, even if the test came back negative.
They shook hands and before Chris knew it he was in his truck. He folded the pamphlets and put them in his pocket. Then he sat there. If—what was her name—Jennifer? If she really was HIV positive, okay. It would be really easy for me to give it to her because of the way things work, right? It’s harder for her to give it to me. Yeah, that’s it. I can’t be infected because it’s harder for her to give it to me. So there’s a chance I’m OK. Maybe it’s nothing. They may have screwed up the results, too. Maybe she got someone else’s results.
Chris started the truck and pulled out into traffic. What if I am infected? I’ve got what, ten years if I’m lucky? I don’t believe this. In ten years I should have my own business. I want to buy a house, a motorcycle! This can’t be happening to me! Hot tears rolled down Chris’ cheeks as he drove, not sure where he was going, wishing he could turn back the clock and not gone to that party.
Dave got
home an hour late with a chip on his shoulder. Chris had blown off work, leaving Dave to stock the apparel department on his own. The task took pretty much the entire shift and Dave’s arms and shoulders were killing him when he got home. He just wanted to take a nice hot shower, review his trig homework, and go to bed. His mother was going down to the basement with a hamper of laundry when Dave walked in.
“Hi Mom.”
“Hi Dave.” She was focused on getting the laundry done and kept walking as Dave headed up the stairs to the living room.
Dad was sitting on the couch watching TV, a beer in one hand and the remote control on his lap. “How was work?”
“It sucked. Big time.”
“What happened?”
“Chris pulled a no-show. I had to stock the apparel department myself. No break. No drink. I’m lucky I got to go to the bathroom.”
“That’s not like him. I wonder what happened. There’s some pizza in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
Dave walked out into the kitchen and poured himself a Coke. He opened the pizza box on the stove. The grease on the pepperoni was slightly congealed, slick and milky red. He grabbed a plate out of the cabinet, threw three slices on it, and sat down at the table. Dave took the copy of Newsweek off the counter and thumbed through it. Most of the articles were about the outbreak in Mumbai. The medical stuff sounded scary to Dave, but most of it went over his head, so maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought.
He settled on an interesting read—“First Strike or Mutation: Mumbai Virus Not Quite Natural?” Dave sipped his Coke and absently munched on his pizza as he read. A bunch of doctors specializing in infectious diseases, one of them a director or something at the Centers for Disease Control, thought the virus could be the opening volley in a biological war. If it was state sponsored, this could be the spark that would ignite a world war. Newsweek was careful to point out the doctors were speculating at this point, and there was no indication this was anything more than a particularly virulent flu.