The Last Mile Trilogy

by Jacqueline Druga

  Turning the bend, the first room was Nick’s. It was dark, but she peeked inside anyway. Nick wasn’t there. Scared, heart beating wildly in her chest, Robi ran into her daughters’ room.

  “Girls?” The hall light provided enough illumination for her to see her twelve-year-old daughter’s figure in bed. “Maggie?” She rushed to the first bed and softly murmured, “Maggie?”

  Hands on her daughter’s body, Robi cried out, “No!” She shook her daughter, but Robi knew. The child’s skin was cool. The immediate heartbreak was overwhelming and Robi was frightened beyond belief and afraid to check her other daughter’s bed.

  Then she heard it. A rustling noise.

  A quick pivot and Robi quickly turned on the night stand light and saw movement in the other bed.

  The seven year old trembled with minor convulsions. Her head went back and forth, eyes wide, and a brownish fluid trickled from her nose and mouth. Robi reached out to her. Linda was hot to the touch. “You’re still alive. You’re still alive. Linda? Linda?” Robi grabbed her daughter’s face. “Linda. It’s Mommy.”

  Linda didn’t respond, and her convulsions continued.

  “I have to get you help.” Robi swooped up her youngest child blanket and all, cradled her to her chest, and raced downstairs with her.

  With her child still cuddled in her arms, Robi grabbed the living room phone and dialed 911.

  It rang and rang.

  No answer.

  She threw down the phone and ran from the house.

  There was no other choice. She couldn’t stay. She had to find Linda the help she needed.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Buffalo, New York

  They portrayed themselves to Bishop as being a very boring couple. A little television and off to bed early. Bishop lived in the apartment below his parents. He never even heard them walking about. He always invited his father out for the Thursday guy’s thing, but his dad always refused. He liked to watch some Law show Thursday nights, and he had to work Fridays.

  The mid income apartment complex—which consisted of three buildings—was silent when Bishop arrived. The electricity was running and Bishop took the elevator to his parents’ second floor home.

  Bishop had hit a wall of reality. The ‘dead’ feel to Buffalo prepared him to face the fact that his parents, like everyone else, were probably no longer alive.

  Promising himself he wouldn’t get hysterical, Bishop entered his parents’ apartment. He often wondered what exactly they did with all their time and, unfortunately, found that answer. The last vision of his parents was not one he wanted forever engrained in his memory. It was horrid enough that they passed away instantly, but it was even worse that they died in the middle of what appeared to be a rather intense love making session.

  Bishop’s father had always boasted that that was the way he wanted to go.

  “Well,” thought Bishop, “he got his wish.”

  Bishop was lost. He hadn’t a clue what to do. Was there help out there? Was it only Buffalo? He had quietly closed their door and headed down to his own apartment, when he heard a woman’s cry.

  It came from outside.

  “Anyone! Is anyone alive! What’s going on! Anyone!” she called from what sounded like the complex courtyard. Bishop went in search.

  Her thin face was tear streaked and red; her hair strewn everywhere. She was about forty years old stood and frazzled stood in the courtyard screaming at the tops of her lungs.

  “Hey!” Bishop called as he emerged from his building.

  With a relief-filled shout she rushed toward Bishop. She grabbed him and whispered in panted breaths, “Everyone’s dead. How ...how?”

  Bishop shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  She held on to him and sobbed, “My husband, my baby. I tried to call for help. No one answered. What do we do?”

  Bishop was just as scared and confused as she was, but he said very little. Cupping her head close to him to try to calm her, he muttered the only response he could give, “I don’t know.”

  Mt. Lebanon, PA

  There were a few who weren’t dead. A fireman, one cop, three patients at the hospital and a nurse.

  But all of them were like Robi’s daughter. Non-responsive and slightly convulsive.

  Waiting around at the hospital was not an option. Linda was not getting better but at least she hadn’t worsened. Robi, being a medical professional, called upon her knowledge and administered a fever reducer. That seemed to stop the convulsions and a mild sedative helped her rest.

  Before taking Linda and more medication home, Robi medicated those who remained alive, and left them.

  She couldn’t stay to help; there was nothing more she could do for them. They weren’t her responsibility, Linda was. Plus, she had one more child to find … Nick.

  Hating to give up, Robi clung to her belief that Nick was alive and fine. Her only heartache came from knowing that he had to have witnessed so many deaths.

  Robi was a realist.

  She couldn’t pause to mourn or worry, or to get hysterical, that could come later. At the moment, things had to be done. After settling Linda on the couch, Robi pulled James’ body to the back covered patio and covered him with a blanket. Hating to do so, she handled her Maggie’s body the same way. With the cause of their deaths unknown Robi couldn’t leave their bodies in the house. Not with Linda still alive and the possibility of Nick returning.

  The question still remained, was it only her hometown, or was it everywhere? Having come from a military family, Robi wagered on a chemical or biological attack as an answer. Communications were down, but for how long? If it was a localized attack, it wouldn’t be long before help arrived.

  She had been so engrossed in cleaning up and caring for Linda, she hadn’t paid any attention to the television. How many times had she heard it in her home? So many, that it wasn’t even noticed. Had it not been for the long beep of the emergency broadcasting system, Robi probably would have stayed focused on her other tasks.

  The picture was distorted and the sound horrible. Robi lifted the remote, hoping to hit on a better station. Fingers barely touching the buttons, she heard the stomping of feet on the front porch.

  “Nick,” she whispered and dropped the remote.

  The front door opened.

  Nick raced through the door, the expression on his face a clear indication of what he’d already see and what he feared he’d find inside.

  Robi jumped to her feet.

  “Mom, you’re alive. I knew it.” He rushed to her.

  Robi had been holding back any tears, but the second she held her son in her arms, they emerged like a valve had been released, producing an emotional flooding without any control. She couldn’t speak.

  “I was coming out of the show …” Nick said. “Everyone just dropped.”

  Robi pulled back and looked at him. “Dropped?”

  “Didn’t you see it?”

  She shook her head. “I was driving.”

  “Did cars crash?”

  “Almost into me. I didn’t know what was happening.”

  Nick stepped from the embrace. “People just dropped. They fell to the ground and didn’t move. I saw one or two shaking. I was just standing there and everyone around me fell. Josh, Tim, they hit the ground. Cars started wrecking, two planes dropped from the sky…and …”

  Robi noticed Nick was staring at the couch and said gently, “Linda isn’t dead, she’s …”

  Nick swallowed and stepped to the couch. “Was she doing that shaking thing?”

  “Yes,” Robi nodded.

  “I saw a cop. He was alive.” Nick knelt by the couch.

  “You’ve been with him?” Robi asked.

  Nick nodded. “I was afraid.” He raised his eyes. “We went to his house first …his wife was dead. He brought me here. Mom? What about Dad and Maggie?”

  Robi sadly shook her head.

  Nick leaned against the sofa. “He said he’d be back.”

>   “Who?” Robi asked.

  “The cop,” Nick answered. “He said he wanted to check our police station and he’d be back.” Nick ran his hand down his sister’s face. “Do you think she’ll be OK?”

  “I don’t know,” Robi answered. “Maybe help will come. Maybe it’s just our area. Maybe …” She saw Nick shake his head. “Why are you saying ‘no’?”

  “We stopped at the police station. We were able to pick up stuff on the radio.”

  “I was just about to try to the television. See?” Robi walked over to the set. “We have some signal coming through. That’s why I thought it was localized.”

  “From what they’ve said on the radio,” Nick said, “there is no help. It’s not just here. It’s everywhere.”

  Buffalo, New York

  Oliver Tibbs was an eccentric middle aged man who boasted he lived in the penthouse suite, when actually he lived on the top floor. Oliver was also the only person Bishop knew who had a satellite dish. So Bishop and the woman whose named he had finally learned was Tanya went to the empty apartment to see if they could pick up a news signal. They did.

  The newswoman defined distressed—no makeup, eyes puffy. The camera angle was sloppy, but she explained that she was the only one in the studio. If she were alive, someone else had to be and it was her duty to reach people. Then she stated she hoped that someone would reach her.

  She started to explain that she didn’t know what was happening. That whatever it was hit fast and furious, that she herself had been on her way home. Ten minutes into her broadcast a man showed up and within five more minutes, two more people. Soon her phones began to ring and slowly but surely, the four of them were piecing information together. It wasn’t long after, a few more showed up. The television studio was a ‘live’ place.

  A map was hung on the wall behind her; it looked like something from a classroom, but it worked. Her name was Annette and she was a sense of hope for a lot of people who were able to pick up her signal—from California.

  There was a brief pause while Annette spoke to someone off camera. When she returned, she took a marker and placed an ‘X’ over Florida.

  “OK.” She faced the camera. “We received a call from Florida. They were hit at 9:40 PM. It seems this thing hit at the same time everywhere. I’m thinking that the longer we stay on the air the more people that will pick us up. The woman who called is in Miami. She said she has seen two other people alive, but reports she has seen numerous infected.”

  Bishop snapped his finger and turned to Tanya who sat in a daze. “These infected? I haven’t seen any. You think we should look through the apartments.”

  Tanya just shrugged.

  “Maybe not.”

  Annette spoke, this time upbeat, “Seems…seems we have a doctor from Illinois on the line. I’m going to plug him through. Doctor? Are you there?”

  “I’m here, Annette.”

  “We heard from Illinois earlier, maybe you can tell us where you are so someone can find you,” Annette suggested.

  “I’m at Cook Country Hospital. You can’t miss me.”

  “What’s going on there, Doctor?”

  “Well, we’re sitting about five hours now post-hit, same as you. And in the last hour, we’ve been getting more coming in.”

  “Are they sick?” she asked.

  “No, but they are bringing in the infected.”

  “How many are we talking about?”

  “Alive and well, about fifteen. Sick, hundreds.”

  “Have you been able to learn anything about this?” Annette questioned. “We’ve not heard from a single medical professional.”

  “That’s why I’m calling. Besides myself, there is a lab tech here and we’ve been doing some raw testing. We’re not epidemiologists, so there’s a lot of guess work involved.”

  “Go on,” Annette urged, “we’re looking for anything right now.”

  “We’ve taken samples from those who have died as well as those with symptoms of infection. Seems as if we’re dealing with a virus. Totally destroys all cell life, coagulates the blood.”

  “Which means?” Annette asked.

  “Clots it,” the doctor said. “Internal organs are mush. Blood won’t flow, can’t pump through the heart or to the brain, and the person dies. Instantly.”

  “Do you think this was a biological attack?”

  “Nothing like I’ve ever seen, Annette, but it’s hard to say what’s out there. I can tell you this. It hit overseas about two hours before we got it.”

  Annette nodded her head thoughtfully “That would explain the downed communications.”

  “I suppose.”

  “What about our infected? Is there any way to help?”

  “At this point no. From what we’ve seen, this virus is attacking the infected at a slower rate. Our guess is they will reach total infection in about five hours.”

  “So those sick right now will …”

  “More than likely pass on.”

  Bishop raised his head when Tanya stood. “Where are you going? This is important.”

  “Why?” she asked. “It’s over.”

  “Don’t you wanna know what happened? Maybe where we can find some help?”

  “No.” She shook her head and walked away.

  Not paying too much attention, Bishop returned to the television. He turned up the volume when he heard the words ‘good news.’ “Tanya?” he called to her. “They're saying some good news.”

  Tanya didn’t respond. Bishop shrugged and turned his attention back to the television.

  “Linked,” the doctor said. “My own daughter is alive. And we’ve seen six other people related. So, we’re thinking there is a genetic link. If you’re alive, you stand a good chance that someone in your family is alive as well.”

  “What do you think the percentages are?”

  “Annette, it’s hard to say. Ninety-plus percent are dead here. More are dying. But the other good news is, we introduced the virus to a blood sample of a person who wasn’t ill. The blood combated it.”

  “So if we aren’t sick with this …”

  The doctor finished Annette’s sentence. “You won’t get sick with it.”

  Bishop mumbled as he stood up, “How good is that? Less than ten percent of the world is alive in a dead world. Swell, someone call in with where we can go for help.” He looked around. “Tanya?”

  No response.

  “Hey …” He headed down the small hallway toward the bedrooms. “Are you still here?” He felt a chill hit him and saw the slightly open door of the far bedroom. “Tanya?” He knocked once and walked inside. “You all right?”

  No one was there.

  “Where the hell did you go?” Bishop spoke to himself. Shivering slightly, he looked at the open window and walked across the room to close it. Just as he reached out to shut the window, he received an answer as to where Tanya had gone.

  He could see her on the sidewalk and the sight sickened him.

  From the sixth floor back bedroom window. … Tanya had jumped.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  April 8th

  Mt. Lebanon, PA

  Robi cried well into the afternoon.

  She found her sanctuary on the back patio, staring out into the yard where she and Nick had buried their family. She supposed she would have to find her parents and brothers and sisters…eventually. However, at that moment, Robi was consumed with the loss of her children and husband.

  Two things made the situation bearable. One, it was everywhere. It wasn’t just her or her family. It was the entire world. Secondly, she still had Nick.

  Nick shed his tears, but then put his emotions into woodwork. He raided a nearby hardware store, cut the wood, and was etching it to make grave markers.

  Robi on the other hand marked the day as useless, the only day she’d allow herself to wallow in grief.

  The night before, Nick and Robi were able to pick up a station out of California. The picture was fuzzy, but the so
und was clear.

  They followed the ongoing reports of some doctor in Illinois who gave hourly updates on the patients he had with the infection. Sure enough, right after he started announcing their demise, Linda passed away.

  Robi was grateful she had sedated her daughter, because the doctor described a violent ending for his patients. Linda didn’t experience that. She never spoke again or opened her eyes. It was as if she fell asleep and just didn’t wake.

  The Illinois doctor made his last phone call about noon, claiming he had nothing more to report. He ended the call saying, “God Speed to everyone.”

  By three in the afternoon, the newswoman who identified herself as Annette said she needed to rest and would return. The post was taken over by some tired sounding man who allowed a lot of dead air time.

  He did say something of value. How long the station would be up and running remained to be seen. With no one around to man the stations, electricity and communications could go without warning. With that, he urged all those listening to find a shortwave radio and batteries.

  It was funny because Nick had beaten the man to the punch. When he returned home with the wood for the crosses, he also brought a radio and other things.

  Robi scanned the airwaves twice only to find nothing but dead air. But common sense told her as long as there were telephones and electricity, no one would use shortwave radios. Not yet.

  The television broadcasts became boring. Those calling in were doing so because they were alone.

  “Why don’t they just go out and look for someone? Hello?” Nick asked that same question every time he walked in the house for a break and heard someone crying on the news.

  Robi only nodded her agreement.

  The crosses were beautiful, such a tribute Nick had made, and Robi was proud. She wondered how many people had died alone with no one to bury them, to make markers and add flowers.