The Agora Virus (Book 2): Anxiety

by Jack Hunt

  “Another method? What are you gonna do? Huh?”

  Gabriel stepped forward as Tyrell took another swig from the bottle.

  “Come on, man, just put it down and let’s go.”

  “No. Screw that. I haven’t had a minute to stop and think since Watertown. It’s all been about getting Ella back, and finding a boat, and getting revenge on some asshole, who I couldn’t give two shits about.” He paused and looked at them, his features hardened. “What about what I want? What about what I need?”

  “Look, there will be plenty of time to reflect after.”

  Frank stood by the door watching Gabriel try to negotiate with his friend. As much as he didn’t have time for this, he hadn’t stopped to think about how the loss of Tyrell’s parents might have affected him. There were no tears when he came out of his home in Watertown. No sense that it had bothered him beyond a shrug or a distant glance. But it had. How could it not? Of course, he’d been driven to get Ella to safety and without their supplies they weren’t going to last long. But, Tyrell was right, the train they were on just kept chugging, and slowing down or jumping off just wasn’t in the cards. The moment that virus breached those barricades, the moment it killed the first human being, life as they knew it changed. It was a hard reality to get used to and one that none of them were comfortable with.

  “Well maybe I should just stay here. I mean we’re all eventually going to die, aren’t we? It’s only a matter of time.” Tyrell strolled over to some bottles and ran his hand across them.

  “So what? You’re going to drink yourself to death,” Gabriel said walking over to him.

  “Maybe.”

  “Why then did you even agree to come?” Gabriel asked. “Zach would have taken your place. We need to do this now.”

  “There you go again with what you need. I don’t hear me, in any of that.”

  “Because this isn’t just about you, Tyrell. It’s about Gabriel, Zach, Hayley, Ella, Sal and his family. I know you’re hurting right now but this is not the time,” Frank said.

  “Really? When is the time? Because the way I see it, we are running out of time. All we have is now. None of us know if we are going to be alive tomorrow.”

  “How was that any different before the pandemic?” Gabriel said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, when it’s your time, it’s your time.”

  He shook his head and pursed his lips. “It’s not the same.”

  “No? My old man thought he would get more years than he did. You saw him before he died. He was a shell of a man. The fact is, the only thing you have said that makes sense, is that all we have is now… so we need to make the most of it. And I for one, am not going to die in some distillery from alcohol poisoning.”

  Tyrell stared blankly at him and then took one more swig before he tossed the bottle across the room and it shattered into pieces on the ground. He passed by Frank and scowled at him.

  “Happy now?” Tyrell said before opening the door.

  A voice bellowed from beyond the doors. “Police! Don’t move!”

  THIRTEEN

  Sal stood at the top of the ladder hammering in another sign. He had put up four so far. The idea had come to him while he was rooting around in Frank’s shed.

  “You really think that’s going to work?” Ella said cupping a hand over her eyes as she looked up.

  “For the Guthries, no, but for others I think it’s a deterrent. It might make them think twice about boarding the island.”

  “They won’t see it at night.”

  He paused with a nail in his hand. “Right, I didn’t think about that. Has he got any luminous paint?”

  “No.”

  He groaned. “Well, it will have to do.”

  In large letters of blue paint, he had created foreboding signs that said BIOHAZARD: There are infected people on this island and QUARANTINE: Some inhabitants of this island are infected.

  He had one posted at the boat dock, and others nailed into trees on either side of the island. While Frank was on the mainland he had to do something, anything to keep his mind occupied. Everything inside of him wanted to head over to Grindstone and end the pitiful life of Butch Guthrie. The thought that he had laid his hands on his wife infuriated him. Though she said he hadn’t touched her sexually, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was telling the truth. Gloria had been known to keep things from him.

  “Hey Ella, you want to pass me up another nail?”

  “Sure,” she muttered and fished into a plastic bag full of them.

  “You know lady stuff, right?”

  Ella snorted. “Sal, my father already gave me the birds and bees talk.”

  “Oh no, I didn’t mean that.” He rested his elbow on a rung of the ladder and gazed towards the house. “I meant, you would know if someone had, well… interfered with a woman, yes?”

  Her brow knit together and he regretted asking. He felt like a fool.

  “Who are you talking about?”

  He hesitated for a second. “Gloria.”

  “You want me to speak to her?”

  “No. I just… well, would you?”

  She smirked. “It’s not a problem.”

  “Don’t say it was me that asked. Just after she told me about Butch hitting her, I can’t help think that he did something more, or maybe his brothers did. You know, with her being on this island all by herself and all.”

  “No, I get it. I’ll bring it up when we talk about our usual, lady stuff,” she said before chuckling. He nodded and continued beating in the last nail. Once he was done, he made his way down and took a few steps back to see if it was crooked.

  “What do you think?”

  She shivered, mocking him. “It’s creepy alright. Let me guess, you used to do the decorations on Halloween.”

  He laughed a little. “Ah, I just thought we should probably look at ways of keeping people off the island, preventing people from stealing the boat, and perhaps having up some kind of alarm system.”

  “Beyond the security cameras?”

  He hemmed and hawed. “Your father’s idea is okay but let’s face it, who is going to sit there and watch them day and night?”

  “He would.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right but no, I don’t think these signs are going to cut it.”

  “I dunno, like you said it might keep away some. By the way, I saw the one you put on the south side.” She smirked. “Nothing inside is worth dying for?”

  “What? You can’t go wrong with stringing up a firing range target with a few shots in the head. Once I added the text below it, I thought it looked pretty good.”

  She laughed and strolled down to the water’s edge. Further down the island she saw Zach ambling along with a rifle in his hand looking out across the water.

  “How’s he coping?” Sal asked, following her gaze.

  “Not well. He’s never killed anyone before.”

  “Has anyone?”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean but… it’s like he’s stuck in that moment. It wasn’t his fault.”

  “I don’t expect it was. After what’s happened I don’t think it will be the last person to die from a gunshot.” He paused. “These are dangerous times.”

  She crouched down and picked up a smooth rock and skipped it out across the water.

  “It doesn’t seem real. All of this.”

  Sal pulled up beside her and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “None of us were prepared.”

  “My father was. Which reminds me, I appreciate all you have done for him.” She skipped another rock and it bounced across the top four times before disappearing. The horizon was swallowing the sun and darkness would soon be upon them.

  “Just doing my job.”

  “No, you went far and above what was required.”

  He chuckled and she shot him a sideways glance. “What?”

  “I wish Gloria saw it that way. She thinks I gave too much time to your father.”

&
nbsp; “Perhaps, but look at him now. He’s not reaching for the hand sanitizer every second, he’s not washing his hands fifteen times a day.”

  “Oh, he still does that, but yeah, he’s come a long way from a year ago. It still affects him and it will for some time. You have to think of it like a recovering addict. Though he might have made progress, it might only take one traumatic event to shift him back into that headspace. He finds comfort there. Some sense of peace.”

  Ella squinted. “Either way, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Why don’t you go speak to Zach? Maybe you’ll cheer him up.”

  Sal began walking back up the embankment. Ella stood there for a few seconds more gazing out before she asked him one last question.

  “Sal!”

  “Yeah?” he said turning back.

  “Do you think he’s going to be okay?”

  “Zach?”

  “My father.”

  “Ah, you know him, he has a way of staying out of trouble.”

  “You three are in big trouble,” the cop barked at them. He’d instructed them to lie on the ground and to slide their rifles towards him. From the moment Tyrell had stepped outside, the cop was acting nervous, drifting his gun back and forth between them. Frank had put one hand out and told him to calm down but he wouldn’t listen.

  Slowly but surely they got to their knees and slid their guns to one side. Frank lifted his head and squinted at the cop. He was sure he had seen him before. He was young and… that’s when it dawned on him.

  “Wyatt?”

  He stopped drifting his gun and frowned.

  “It’s me, Frank Talbot.”

  The cop looked confused but he had him hooked.

  “I was with Sal Hudson. You stopped us a while back near the Sunoco gas station, after it was on fire.” It still didn’t appear to be registering. “Black truck. I was driving. Sal Hudson.”

  He gazed around nervously, then nodded. “Right, I remember now. Where’s Sal?”

  Frank went to get up and Wyatt screamed for him to get on the ground. This guy was super high-strung. Whatever he had eaten that morning, it wasn’t doing him any good. His eyes were wide and he looked wired, as if he had consumed forty cups of coffee.

  “Sorry. I just wanted to explain.”

  “You’ll have a chance to explain behind bars.”

  “Um, I hate to point out the obvious but have you not seen the state of the police station?”

  “I’m aware of the situation but that doesn’t change anything and neither does it change the fact that you are breaking and entering into an establishment that does not belong to you.”

  “Okay, I’ve had enough of this,” Tyrell said rising up to his knees.

  “Get on the floor. Now!

  “Put a sock in your pie hole. Listen up, deputy dipshit, maybe you didn’t get the memo but we are currently experiencing a deadly pandemic. And—”

  Before he could finish what he was saying, Wyatt pulled his Taser with his other hand and fired. The electrical probes hit Tyrell and he began flopping around like a fish.

  “I told you.”

  “Hey!” Gabriel said scrambling to his feet.

  “Don’t make me shoot you!” Wyatt screamed aiming his firearm at him. Gabriel tossed his hands up.

  “Come on, man, this is not right.”

  “What’s not right is breaking into this place. What’s not right is what the hell is going on in this town.”

  “Wyatt. Wyatt!” Frank shouted. He wasn’t paying any attention. Wyatt had extracted the probes and had a knee on the back of one compliant Tyrell, who was now groaning.

  Finally he responded. “What?” he shouted as if unable to control himself.

  “Where are the other officers?”

  “Gone. The two part-timers never came in for their shift, and the other officers ended up infected and the chief, well, I haven’t seen him.”

  “So why the hell are you still doing this?”

  “Because someone has to. The world might have gone to hell but nothing’s changed.”

  “Wake up, man. Everything has changed. And if you keep this up, eventually someone is going to shoot you.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “No. I’m saying that others are packing just the same as us and they shoot and don’t ask questions.”

  “Well then it’s a good thing that I’m armed.” He cast his gaze down at Tyrell and told him to shut up again, while he tried to figure out how to cuff him without putting his firearm away.

  “Now you two, just back up.”

  They shifted ever so slightly.

  “More. Move!”

  They clambered to their feet and shifted a bit further away and watched intently as he pulled his cuffs and tried slapping them around Tyrell’s wrists. Tyrell wasn’t making it easy for him. He was telling him to get off and then he slid into a rant about police brutality and his skin color. All the while Frank was looking for his opening. He knew that this was absurd. All of them did. But with Wyatt packing that Glock he had to be careful. Tyrell continued to struggle and Wyatt must have figured it was pointless trying to get the cuffs on him so he yanked him up and strong-armed him over to the idling cruiser.

  “Now you just stay there.”

  “Get your hands off me, man,” Tyrell shouted kicking back.

  “You keep that up and it’s going to be painful for you.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Wyatt had bit off more than he could chew trying to wrestle Tyrell into the cruiser with one hand, so he slammed him on the hood of the vehicle and tried reaching for his cuffs. As hard as he tried to keep an eye on Frank and Gabriel, it was becoming almost impossible with all the kicking and yelling Tyrell was doing.

  Seeing that it was a pointless endeavor, he slid the Glock into his holster so he could use both hands. That was the opening Frank was looking for. If he hadn’t done that, Frank would have waited until he came and got him and then he would have turned the tables.

  He couldn’t reach his rifle in time but he sure as hell could plow into him. Frank burst forward and Wyatt’s nostrils and eyes flared in shock as Frank dived into him and knocked him to the ground.

  By the time Frank hit him, Wyatt had his hand on his gun and was struggling to get it out. They rolled around on the ground. All the while Frank was telling him to stop.

  “We’re not going to harm you. We just want—”

  Before he could spit the words from his mouth, in Frank’s peripheral vision, he saw a flash of a muzzle slip into view. Everything slowed in that moment. The barrel pressing against the officer’s head — the gun going off — and a spray of red mist hitting his face.

  FOURTEEN

  A sharp ringing in his ears followed by disorientation was the first thing Frank felt. The next was the sound of Gabriel yelling at Tyrell. Frank squeezed his eyes shut as his body tried to return to normal.

  “Why the hell did you do that?”

  Frank looked up to see Gabriel slam Tyrell against the side of the cruiser. He looked down at Wyatt’s motionless body. Blood covered his face and a part of his brain had seeped out. Trembling, startled, and in shock, Frank rose and backed away from the dead cop. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. He immediately reached into his pocket and pulled out some wipes, and began cleaning off his face, hands, and jacket.

  “He was going to take us in, maybe even kill us,” Tyrell said, trying to come to his own defense. Frank flashed him one look and he put his hands up defensively. Gabriel was pacing back and forth looking at the officer then looking down the road.

  “Kill us? Are you kidding?” Gabriel shouted. “The guy was just trying to do his job.”

  “A little late for that now,” Tyrell said.

  “Well it is now, you idiot.” Gabriel was beside himself. Frank hadn’t said a word; he was still trying to process what had happened.

  “Frank, what are we gonna do?” Gabriel said in a panicked state.

  Frank was c
rouched down at the front of the cruiser gripping the bumper and trying to get a hold of his sanity. It felt like a Mack truck had hit him. Not only was he wrestling with the fact that Tyrell had just murdered a cop and they were an accessory to it, but he had no idea if Wyatt was infected. How long had Wyatt been out in the town trying to do his job? How many people had he come in contact with? Were any of them infected? If Wyatt had the Agora virus, it would all be over for him in a matter of fourteen to twenty-four hours. Frank slammed his fist against the bumper three times in anger, and let out a yell.

  The reality of this new world came crashing in and with it the harsh reality that he had already run into this issue once, at Abner’s. He’d got blood on him then, but he didn’t think about whether Clarence had been infected. He’d simply returned to the island. The complexity of the situation they were facing was far bigger than he thought. N-95 masks, disposable overalls, and goggles reduced the risk of contracting the virus but the only real way was to avoid people altogether. Easier said than done.

  He figured he couldn’t go back to the island for at least for fourteen hours, not until he had seen that he wasn’t infected.

  “Frank,” Gabriel said stepping closer to him.

  “Get back!” Frank yelled edging away. “Stay six feet away.”

  Gabriel got this confused look on his face and then his eyes darted to the dead officer and then back to Frank. He didn’t need to explain it to him.

  “We’ll ride in the back of the truck.”

  Frank nodded.

  “What if I’m infected too?” Tyrell said. “I mean he had his hands all over me. It doesn’t just carry in the blood. Sweat, saliva, hell… this is messed up.”

  Frank looked straight at him and without missing a beat he replied, “Well if you are infected, maybe you can pass it along to Butch. At least that way you can do something good before you die.”

  Tyrell frowned and strolled off towards the truck. His words were harsh. He knew that. He wouldn’t wish this disease on anyone, not even his worst enemy, but in the frustration of the moment he just blurted it out.

  The only upside to it all was that Frank knew no police were coming to haul them away. If Wyatt was right, the others were gone, dead, or locked up behind some impenetrable door. Who knew? Before Frank got in the truck he fished out his anxiety meds and downed one. He made a note to visit one of the local pharmacies and see if he could find some more.