“Hey Jack,” I breathed after a few minutes. “I’m okay, Sweet Boy.” It was a lie, but it didn’t really matter. I unclenched my fingers from his scruff and stood on shaky legs. “Let’s get outta here.”
Jack leaned against my right leg as I rushed out of the room and eased the door closed. Click. I can’t go in there again.
Date: December 7, 9:00 AM
From: Danielle O’Connor
To: Zoe Cartwright
Subject: Losing Hope
Zo,
Callie’s gone. I just…this is so surreal. I can’t think about it anymore. But I can’t NOT think about it either. What happens now?
When I talked to Grams about it, she told me she hadn’t been able to find your dad. But she promised to search around town. She also told me she wasn’t feeling well. Sorry. Wish I had better news.
Yeah, so, it looks like Cam and I have the flu, too. Cam’s been throwing up in the bathroom most of the day. We’d go to the hospital, but there isn’t any point. The emergency broadcast said to stay away from all hospitals and doctors’ offices. I honestly don’t know what to do. Too much emotional crap. I need to go pass out now.
Dani
I woke with a jolt, immediately feeling like I’d taken a dozen shots of rum. I crawled over Cam’s sweaty body and barely made it to the bathroom before vomiting. Jack settled on the linoleum beside me, his head resting on his front paws while he watched me.
The bloody, violent heaves seemed to last forever and left me a shaking, cavernous husk. My insides were raw—like I’d swallowed lighter fluid, lit a match on my tongue, and let the flames scorch my body from the inside out. Though I attempted to drink a few sips of water before rejoining Cam in bed, the most I could manage was to rinse out my mouth.
When I finally returned to our bedroom, Cam was awake and curled up on his side facing the doorway. “D, I woke up, and you were gone. I’m so tired. Stay with me?” he rasped.
“Of course,” I soothed as I unsteadily slid over his body and into bed. “Go to sleep, my Cam. I’ll be right here. I love you,” I whispered, snuggling behind him. But he was already in a deep sleep, and I was trying not to vomit, again.
Hours later, the world resumed its lurching motion and forced me to return to my worship of the toilet. My stomach muscles heaved and contracted endlessly, nearly making me pass out from exhaustion.
Using the wall for support, I eventually made it back to the bed. As I dragged my worthless limbs across Cam’s body, I became aware of Jack’s incessant whining and froze.
Beneath me, Cam wasn’t breathing. Cam? CAM! NO!!!
“Wake up, Cam,” I begged, rolling him onto his back and sitting astride his limp form. “Come on, Baby. Wake up, please!” I touched his face tenderly—kissed his lips, his eyes, his cheeks. I could smell him, so I knew he must still be there.
“This isn’t happening. You can’t do this to me! You can’t leave me! Please, Baby, just wake up! PLEASE!”
But every part of him was limp, lifeless.
“DAMMIT, CAM,” I screeched, banging on his chest with my weak limbs. “You have to wake up! You can’t leave me like this! You promised me…you said we’d grow old together! You PROMISED!” I gave one last scream before collapsing on top of him. All of my sounds turned to sobs.
“Please, Cam, wake up,” I croaked.
He’s dead.
While I lay on his body, my mind flashed through all of the things we should’ve shared. We’d planned to share. We’d wanted to share.
I saw Grams, acting as my father and mother, walking me down the aisle. Toward Cam.
I saw our children—a little boy and baby girl—both with dark red hair.
I saw family vacations with Zoe and her shadowed husband and child.
I saw our children grow up and marry and have babies of their own.
I saw myself grow old and wrinkly with Cam after a life filled with love and companionship, like he’d promised.
And I watched him die as an old man.
All of my future hopes faded away as, in my mind, his aged, lifeless body transformed into the Cam growing cold beneath me. Young Cam. My Cam.
He’s dead.
Slowly, I became aware of Jack whining and tugging on my pajama pants. I felt like a sleepwalker as he led me off the bed and out of the room. I didn’t look back at Cam’s body as I shut the door.
He’s dead.
Jack nudged, pushed, and tugged me into the living room where he stared at me with pleading black eyes, willing me to do something.
I collapsed onto the couch with arms and legs sprawled haphazardly. I gladly would’ve passed out except that something was jabbing into my thigh. As I moved the offending lump, I realized it was my laptop.
I needed to talk to someone. But I couldn’t go back into the bedroom to get my phone. Cam’s body was in there. Definitely not. Can’t.
I also couldn’t just stay on the couch and die, however appealing giving up sounded. Staring at the computer on my lap, I decided I could handle emailing Zoe, drinking a glass of water, falling asleep on the couch…and, depending on my luck, maybe dying.
I trudged into the kitchen with Jack close behind. The water burned like whiskey at first but transformed into liquid heaven after the fifth sip. I had to remind myself not to drink too quickly.
I set my refilled glass on the counter before dragging a giant bag of dog food from the pantry. Too weak to pick it up, I tore it open and let the contents spill onto the linoleum. Jack wagged his whole body in excitement at the mountain of food.
“There you go, Sweet Boy—just in case I don’t make it,” I told him, scratching his neck. My throat clenched, but I was too exhausted for tears.
Jack wagged and whimpered, unable to decide on the appropriate response.
Sitting back on the couch, I stared at the wall and sipped water as I waited for my computer to boot up. I begged my mind to stay empty.
Date: December 9, 8:30 PM
From: Danielle O’Connor
To: Zoe Cartwright
Subject: (no subject)
Cam’s gone.
A little bit ago, while I was trying to throw up my intestines in the bathroom, Cam stopped breathing. He just stopped being. I mean, one minute I left him sleeping in our bedroom, and the next minute he was just...gone.
Do you remember my birthday last year when Cam and I landed in Boston? You parked in the ridiculously expensive parking garage rather than just picking us up, and you met us at baggage claim. You said you’d have counted the parking rate as a birthday present except that you wanted to see me just as badly as I wanted to see you. After that statement, Cam gave you a bear hug and said, “I love how much you love her!” That was the moment I knew I wanted to spend forever with him. I would have, too.
He’s dead, and I loved him. He’s lying in our bed—dead—and I still love him. But shouldn’t I not want to face a world without him? Shouldn’t I want to die? I don’t know how I feel right now. I feel nothing.
I’m sorry...I haven’t read any emails or answered any calls for days. I haven’t even spoken with Grams. I’ve just been…passed out. I’m really tired, so I’m going to lie down on the couch and hope I wake up. I miss you. I miss you so much that it makes me feel...something. Love you, Zo.
Dani
4
ZOE
On any given night, the idea of getting into bed with my perfectly worn flannel sheets would’ve been welcomed. I would wrap myself in blankets and bake in the divine, sweltering heat. But I couldn’t. Though I could feel the monstrous chill closing in around me, nipping at my ears, nose, and neck, the covers were suffocating. They were too warm, too tight. I couldn’t get comfortable. Only moments after slipping under the covers, I threw them off.
I’m fine. Everything’s fine, I lied to myself. Just get a glass of water, and go back to sleep. It’s just a fever…it’ll be gone tomorrow.
I struggled to get up. My head throbbed, my body ached, and my sweats fe
lt like sandpaper against sunburn—abrasive and raw. I loved my pajamas, yet I couldn’t tear them off fast enough. Naked, I welcomed the chill of the night on my unshielded body.
Suddenly, the cool air felt like shards of glass cutting me. Shit! What the hell’s wrong with me? My body was too sensitive. My skin felt like heavy leather being pulled as I moved—stiff and unable to mold to the form of my body. I have to do something.
It was below freezing outside, and I was lying in bed, naked and sweating. I tried not to think about Jordan’s death, but I couldn’t help but wonder, Am I dying?
My mouth started watering, and I attempted to swallow the bile rising up my throat, but it wouldn’t stay down. Lurching over the edge of the bed, I reached for the trash can as my stomach convulsed. I vomited until I felt hollow. Eventually, even the dry heaves ceased, and I wiped my sweaty brow with the back of my hand. Shaking, I stared at everything I’d puked up and waited for my breathing to steady.
I hobbled to the bathroom and locked the disgusting trash can inside. Retrieving a large mixing bowl from the kitchen, I settled on the couch and turned on the television. Although its luminescence burned my eyes, Bob Ross’s calm, soothing voice talking about “happy little trees” and “whatever your heart desires” made me think about painting instead of pain. At least for a little while.
1 SENT TEXT MESSAGE:
TO: D
Why aren’t your picking up your phone? Are you OK? Stupid question, I know. I can’t believe what happened to Cam. I’m so sorry D. Please just call me.
December 10, 11:45 AM
Dani’s email riddled me with fear. Every hair on my body stood on end as a sense of despair took root deep inside me. The panic and alarm I’d hidden away in the crevasses of my mind finally escaped their restraints. I couldn’t catch my breath as hysteria wrapped itself around my throat like a boa constrictor. She’s not answering. She can’t be dead! What about Jason? Dad and Grams? Oh my God…we’re not going to make it…
I could hear Sarah retching in the bathroom. Of course I’d get sick too. Am I better? I’m feeling better, but…
Remembering that my dad was alone and that Dani was worse off than I was, I used my rising conviction to levy my fear. I have to get to them.
I tossed my phone away in haste, completely forgetting that my ex-boyfriend, Dave, had texted me to make sure I was okay. I’d also forgotten that I had missed his call and that I was scheduled to work a gallery opening.
Frantically, I shuffled through my room, snatching anything and everything lying around. My body still ached, but I ignored it. I put no thought into what I grabbed, filling my bag on autopilot.
I have to stay in control, I told myself as I took a deep breath. Dad needs me. Dani needs me.
I tried to change my flight home for Christmas, but I couldn’t get through to the airline. I would’ve settled for driving across the country, but I didn’t have a car. Dammit! Then I remembered…the bus station. I just needed to get there and buy a ticket. Then I could get to them. Hopefully it’ll be soon enough…
Date: December 10, 11:35 PM
From: Zoe Cartwright
To: Danielle O’Connor
Subject: Freaking Out
Where are you, D? Why haven’t you contacted me? You’d better be alive! I’m trying to hold it together, but I can’t do that if you’re MIA.
I went to the bus station to buy a ticket home. It’s shut down. To make it worse, the airline’s phones have been busy since yesterday. Things are pretty bad here. Everything’s closed, including Earl’s and the gallery. I haven’t been able to get a hold of you or anyone else. The only people I’ve seen around Salem aren’t particularly in the best frame of mind—most are skittish, talking to themselves or smelling like they haven’t showered in a week. I even saw a blonde chick from the clinic…she was filthy and wandering aimlessly around downtown like she didn’t know where she was. It’s really bad.
I’m beginning to feel trapped here in the middle of this frozen, crazed wasteland. Everything’s falling apart, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m trying not to freak out.
I’ve called you like 7 times. I’m so worried about you, Dani. Please call or write when you can.
I love you,
Zoe
Folded into the overstuffed chair in my living room, I stared absentmindedly out the picture window, mesmerized by the white flurries floating to the ground. My phone slid from my grasp, and my eyes followed it as it landed among the magazines and laundry strewn on the carpet. Jordan was always the tidy one.
I shivered. Wearing only boxers and one of my dad’s old t-shirts, I felt like my toes were ice cubes. I held a mug of cold tea and stroked the old, worn fabric of my shirt, wishing it still smelled like Dad.
It had been a week since I’d heard from him, and Jason hadn’t called me back either. Dani’s last email had crumpled any hope I’d had left that things would get better. I’m losing everyone.
“You’re cold.” Sarah’s voice was timid and quiet behind me.
“I’m always cold,” I muttered. I often berated myself for making the stupid decision to move to the East Coast, forcing myself to endure the freezing winters. And now far away from everyone I care about…
Sarah cleared her throat.
Momentarily removing myself from oblivion, I looked at her. She held out a burgundy fleece blanket, and I wondered how pathetic I must appear. Too exhausted to be stubborn, I accepted her offering and managed a weak smile. “Thanks, Sarah.” I set the blanket haphazardly on my lap, refocusing my gaze on the darkened world outside.
Before I could slip back into the empty, paralyzing void, I felt Sarah’s delicate hands on my lap, repositioning the blanket to cover me. The warmth of the thick fleece soothed me, and my eyes began to sting as the salty tears I’d been fighting finally emerged. Lacking the energy to hold them in, I let them fall. My chin trembled, and my chest was burdened with swells of loneliness as my doubts began to consume me.
Wiping my cheeks, I looked at Sarah again. Her curls were wild and unbrushed, and her clothes were dirty. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her lips were chapped—a pet peeve that I would’ve done something about in another life. I’d forgotten she was sick too. And she’s taking care of me.
“You don’t have to do that.” My voice was unintentionally distant and cold, but I lacked the will to do anything about it.
Sarah stood abruptly. Her features were pinched with worry, and her eyes were red and swollen. Nostrils flaring, she tried to compose herself before speaking. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…bother you.”
She turned to leave, and hot guilt coursed through me. She’s just being nice. Don’t be a bitch, I thought. I shook myself, trying to dispel the mental numbness, and grabbed Sarah’s hand gently.
She turned. “Thank you for letting me stay here, Zoe.” Her words were filled with emotion and gratitude. “It means so much to me. I don’t want to be alone.” Her cracked voice broke my heart. “I know you don’t want me here, but I—”
Tears were streaming down her face faster than she could wipe them away. She sat down on the couch and began sobbing into her hands, her body shaking violently.
Seeing Sarah’s anguish was too much. I wanted to scream. Rising from my chair, I went to sit beside her. I pulled her into my arms and wrapped the blanket around us. She coughed, reminding me she was infected, but it didn’t really matter anymore.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I whispered to her and knew it was true. At least I’m not utterly alone.
After drifting in and out of sleep for what seemed like hours, Sarah and I were startled awake by the shrill ring of my cell phone. I jumped up and rushed to retrieve it from the floor even though my joints were stiff from being curled up on the couch. Please don’t hang up!
Fumbling with the phone, I was finally able to answer it with shaky fingers. “Dad?” I cried in a trembling voice.
“Zoe, I can’t talk long—”
; “Dammit Jason, where the hell’ve you been?!” I shrieked. “Have you heard from Dad? I can’t get ahold of him and—”
“Listen to me, Zoe. You need to get to Colorado. I need you to head to Peterson Air Force Base near Colorado Springs; it’s safe there,” he said between uneven breaths.
“How am I supposed to get to Colorado? I don’t have a car; the bus station’s closed—”
“Zoe, focus! Find a way to get there and do it as soon as you can.” His words were rushed and clipped.
Jason’s scared.
“Answer me, Zoe!” he snapped.
“Yes, I’ll get there. I promise. I’ll find a way.” The garbled sound of movement on the other end told me I had only a second before Jason ended our conversation. “Wait! What about Dad and Dani?” It was silent. “Jason? Are you there?”
“Dani’s alive?” His voice was grave.
“I don’t know. She was really sick the last time I—”
“Where is she?” he asked.
“She’s at her apartment in Seattle, but—”
“I’m headed there now. I’ll check on her and meet you at Peterson. Do you understand?”
“Yeah. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” My mind was whirling with questions. “Don’t you need her addr—”
“Text it to me. I’ll be in touch. Just pack what you need and go.”
“Jason, I’m—”
But there was a click and the line went dead. My brother was gone.
Adrenaline pumped through my veins, bringing me out of my stupor.
Still sitting, Sarah stared up at me curiously. “What’s going on? Who’s Jason?”
After the Ending Page 3