The Black Tide I: Remnants (Tides of Blood)

by Baileigh Higgins

  I tossed in a spoon, can opener, and a flashlight then headed back to Lexi's room, pocketing my phone and lighter along with a little money just in case.

  “I'm going now. Will you be okay?”

  She nodded.

  I hesitated, torn. Now that the time had arrived I didn't want to leave. “Remember what I said, Lexi. No talking to Jacob. Don't even go outside, okay.”

  “Okay.”

  “And please be caref...”

  “Ava.”

  “Yes?”

  “I'm not a baby anymore.”

  I smiled, the mask crinkling around my cheeks.

  “I know, sweetie.”

  “And Ava?”

  “Yes?”

  “Please, come back.”

  A single heartbeat passed.

  “I promise.”

  ***

  Jacob waited for me at the gate with a blanket, flask, and lunch box. He was as thin and fidgety as ever.

  “Hey, Jacob.”

  “Hi, Ava.”

  I was relieved to see he was wearing his mask, glasses perched uncomfortably on top and opened the gate to let him in. We gave each other friendly nods and a wide berth. The new social convention of our times. “Will you be all right? Sitting here all day?”

  “I'll be fine.” He flashed a book and a blanket. I smiled. He'd always been a bit of a nerd and High School hadn't changed that.

  “Well, you know where the patio is.” Although we'd never been friends, Jacob, and his brother had visited a few times when their parents came over for a braai, and he knew his way around. I walked down the street to their house and found Andy in the driveway with his mom.

  “Be careful, Andy. Please.”

  “I'll be fine, Mom.” His deep baritone rumbled through the air.

  The polar opposite of his brother Jacob, Andy was freakishly large. Built like Hercules, he'd gone on from school to play professional rugby, and everyone expected him to make it to the Springboks.

  I wonder how many of them are still alive?

  Andy turned to me. “Ready to go?”

  Shaken from my morbid thoughts, I nodded. “Guess so.”

  He shouldered his backpack and strode to the gate, setting a brisk pace. Several minutes passed as we walked. I struggled to keep up, my short legs no match for his. He never spoke or looked around. I might as well not have been there. Sticking to him like a shadow, I focused on my breathing. It was no use. Before we'd gone more than a few blocks, I was bellowing through my nostrils like a hippo.

  In High School, I'd acquired a bit of extra padding around my middle through sheer laziness. This was exacerbated by the fact that I was short, clocking in at a mere five-foot-two. It wasn't anything to worry about until my mom died, and I broke up with Brian.

  I spent weeks gorging on ice cream and donuts in an attempt to soothe the pain. That is until Lexi told me I looked like the neighbor's cat―a fat ginger with a nasty disposition. I signed up at the gym and cut the junk from my diet, losing the weight.

  It was a decision I was now grateful for. Not that it seemed to help, though. Since the coming of the Black Tide, exercise had fallen by the wayside and I could feel it now. The recent months of relative inactivity had taken their toll and lack of proper nutrition didn't help either. My lungs burned and sweat trickled down my spine. Couldn't he show some consideration? I glared at Andy's back, throwing venomous thoughts his way until he stopped so suddenly, I almost plowed into him.

  “Can't you go any faster?” he asked.

  “I'm trying my best,” I huffed.

  “That's your best?”

  I drew myself up to my full height and scowled. “That might be because I'm not a professional athlete, Einstein.”

  “You asked to come along,” he pointed out. “If you can't keep up that's not my problem.”

  “You'd leave me behind?” Anger warmed my cheeks until I glowed from more than just exercise.

  “I'm not here to babysit you.”

  “You're being an ass, you know that?”

  Andy sighed and closed his eyes.

  Must be counting to ten.

  He opened his eyes and blew out a breath. “Look, I'm sorry. I'm worried about my dad, okay? I need to find him.”

  “You're not the only one.”

  We stared at each other until he stuck out his hand. “Truce?”

  I eyed his meaty fingers then shook it. “Truce.”

  “We've got a long way to go still. Up for a jog?”

  “Let's go.”

  He eased into a slow run, and I fell in beside him. In no time, I developed a stitch in my side but ignored it, pressing on until I caught my second wind. It became almost therapeutic, reminding me of the hum of the treadmill and music blasting in my ears. My headache started to fade with the release of tension too.

  Andy set a course for the Thabong location, and I swallowed my misgivings. If my dad and the others were stranded, this would be the road. They wouldn't have taken the longer way even if it was safer because of the cost of fuel. I ignored the warning bells jangling in my head, consoling myself with the thought that I had a large bodyguard by my side.

  The houses of Riebeeckstad swept past in a monotonous blur. The streets were quiet—few people were about. It reminded me of the calm before the storm. A hushed sense of expectation hung in the air.

  Almost before I realized it we were out of town, leaving the suburbs behind. Dull yellow grass stretched in all directions, relieved by the occasional stunted bush. The trees were all gone, cut down by the poorer inhabitants of Thabong who used the wood to heat up their freezing corrugated iron shacks.

  Andy cut across the veldt to the left, heading for the bridge that bisected the location. In effect, it created a highway over and through it. It was the safer road as we wouldn't be in amongst the streets and houses but still risky.

  For the next half-hour, I tripped over branches, stones, and ditches, leaping over termite mounds until we reached the road again. Why we hadn't stuck to it in the first place, I couldn't understand. Yes, the veldt was a shortcut but it sure didn't feel that way.

  We jogged further, but I lagged, exhaustion setting in. We reached the traffic circle before the bridge, and I pushed my body to its limit until we reached the top, the long road ahead arching over the sprawling location.

  Stumbling to a halt, I raised a hand and called to Andy. “Wait...” I heaved for breath, sucking in huge gulps of oxygen. “Just a minute.”

  Maybe taking up smoking wasn't such a clever idea. Sweat trickled down my face, and I longed to tear off the mask and get some fresh air. Andy frowned but didn't say anything, squatting down on his haunches and rummaging in his bag for water, instead.

  We'd come a long way. Once over the bridge, it was only a short distance to the industrial area on the outskirts of Welkom. I was beat, however, and needed a break. Staring around me, I took in the surroundings.

  Thabong was an odd mixture of tin shacks, RDP houses, and the occasional mansion. Typical of our country, each house, be it shack or mansion, boasted a satellite dish. Not a blade of grass could be seen, the ground bleak and dusty. Smog hung over the town, produced by the numerous fires burning in metal drums. The usual skinny dogs scavenging for food were missing, and I surmised they'd long since been eaten by the hungry and desperate.

  I bent over, turning my eyes away from the dismal scene. With my hands on my knees, I stood, head hanging until I became aware of a rumbling sound. Subtle vibrations traveled through the soles of my feet, tingling throughout my legs. I straightened up and squinted in the direction of Welkom until I could make out the first vehicle cresting the bridge, followed by more, and more.

  “Andy,” I said.

  “What?”

  He pushed to his feet and joined me. We stood by the side of the road as the convoy rumbled towards us and stared in mute astonishment as the first chopper appeared, sweeping in a low arc over our heads.

  “What the hell?” Andy whistled.


  So it was true.

  The army had arrived.

  8

  Chapter 7

  The army convoy passed us by heading for my home; a procession of brown, green and khaki. Strange faces stared down at us without expression―nobody seemed interested in two vagabonds by the side of the road. Overhead, more choppers flew by, their blades whipping the dusty veldt into a maelstrom of dry grass and leaves.

  I raised a hand and gripped Andy's sleeve, feeling small and insignificant. He shot me a look but remained silent. It was impossible to talk over the roar of machines.

  The last truck in line rolled to a stop in front of us. The soldier in the passenger seat opened the door and jumped out, pointing his gun at us. My eyes bulged, fixating on the end of the barrel aimed right at me. I stepped back.

  “Don't move,” the soldier barked.

  We froze.

  Through the open door, I heard the driver talking on his radio but I couldn't make it all out. “Yes, Sir. I'll take care of...” Static.

  “...male and female...” More static.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Other soldiers poured from the back, forming a half circle around us. My mouth dried up, and my heart banged a frightened beat in my chest at the sight of so many guns aimed at me.

  The rest of the convoy disappeared into the distance as the driver got out, slamming the door shut. He walked around the truck, his combat boots crunching on the gravel. From his authoritative manner, I guessed he was an officer. He stopped in front of us, folding his arms behind his back and raising his chin.

  “Where are you from?” he asked.

  This seemed like a strange question to me. I opened my mouth but no sound came out. Andy answered instead. “Riebeeckstad.”

  “What are you doing out here?”

  “We're looking for our fathers. They went to Welkom yesterday and never came home last night.”

  “They've most likely been picked up for processing and registration.”

  “Processing?”

  The officer nodded. “Martial law has been instituted in all provinces. Welkom is already undergoing the procedure. Thabong and Riebeeckstad are next.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, gathering up the courage to speak.

  The officer sighed. “All citizens are required to undergo registration in their hometown after processing. This entitles them to weekly rations which will be delivered by truck. Travel is strictly prohibited. All citizens will be expected to stay indoors at all times.”

  “Stay inside?” Andy asked. He sounded as incredulous as I felt. “We can't leave our homes?”

  “That's correct.”

  “But why?” I asked. “I thought there was only going to be a curfew?”

  “There was, but the situation is deteriorating faster than anticipated, necessitating the implementation of stricter measures. It is for your own good.”

  He barked a command in Sotho, and another soldier in a medic's uniform pushed to the front carrying a medical kit. He knelt on the asphalt, opened the kit and removed two tubes.

  “What's that?” I asked, stepping back.

  The rifles trained on me shifted with my movement and I froze again. A subtle hint of menace permeated the atmosphere, carrying a distinct threat. Andy gripped my elbow, and nodded almost imperceptibly, a warning to stay still.

  “This is a simple test to determine whether you are infected with the Black Tide,” the medic answered.

  “On the spot?” Andy asked. “How accurate is it?”

  “Tests suggest an accuracy rate of ninety-eight percent,” the medic replied. His tone was matter of fact, the answer well-practiced.

  I couldn't help but wonder, though. What about the other two percent? And tests suggested? What did that mean?

  “I warn you to cooperate,” the officer said. “You will not be allowed to leave without testing.”

  That didn't sound good. What if Brian had infected me? What then?

  “What happens if...if...” I couldn't finish the sentence and nobody answered.

  “Take off your glove, please,” the medic asked. I had no option but to obey.

  He swabbed my finger with alcohol and pressed the tube to my finger. A small pinprick and a drop of blood welled up. He removed a cap from the other end and soaked up the blood with the fibrous end, then recapped it. On the side was a little window. It almost looked like a pregnancy test. A hysterical giggle welled up at the thought, but inside I quailed, frightened to death of that little piece of plastic.

  He moved to Andy and repeated the procedure. Once finished, the medic stepped back, pressing the timer on his watch. I pulled my glove back on and folded my arms around my ribcage, looking for comfort.

  What if I've got it? Brian touched me, spoke to me without a mask. Oh, God.

  The seconds ticked by, the tension growing as we awaited the verdict. The rifle barrels never wavered. I suddenly got an inkling what happened to those who didn't pass the test.

  The medic glanced at his watch for the last time, then looked at the little windows on the side of the tubes. “Clear. They're both negative.”

  I sagged with relief, nearly falling to my knees. “Thank God.”

  Andy gripped my elbow, steadying me and I clung to him, grateful for the support.

  “What now?” he asked the officer.

  “Now you register for rations and go home.”

  We were herded into the dim interior of the truck, climbing over the tail flap to be squashed together near the end. One of the men secured the canvas, and we spent the ride back to Riebeeckstad in uncomfortable silence, alone with our thoughts.

  The soldiers ignored us, talking amongst themselves, their voices ringing hollow behind their masks. I couldn't understand them as I didn't speak the language. Living in a country with eleven official languages made things interesting at the best of times. From the tight look on his face, I guessed Andy understood, however, and made a mental note to ask him later.

  Left to my thoughts, I mulled over what had occurred. It was a relief to know I wasn't sick, but I was also worried about what would happen next. Rationing? I supposed it was better than starving, better than watching your money dwindle away until you couldn't afford to buy so much as a single loaf of bread.

  I also understood being kept indoors. Traveling and contact with others would only spread the disease faster. I couldn't help but wonder, though. What happened to those who didn't pass the test? People like Brian's dad. Brian himself. Would they be quarantined? Hospitalized?

  These questions milled around inside my head until I realized I was being naive. Again. What would have happened to me and Andy back there, if we'd tested positive?

  They would have killed us, a voice whispered in the back of my head. I tried to dismiss the thought but it lingered. What else would they have done? Let us go with a merry wave and goodbye?

  What about Dad? Was he okay? Had he been processed? Most importantly of all, did he pass the test? I hugged my knees to my chest, not at all sure I was ready for the ugly side of this new world.

  The next few hours went by in a blur. Andy and I were taken to the High School which had been commandeered for army use. Once there, we were hustled to a long line of tables set up in the hall, queuing with others like ourselves. We were issued with a blue plastic armband to signify we were disease free. Our details were jotted down on clipboards and we each received a coupon.

  I went along like an automaton, never saying a word with Andy leading the way. If it wasn't for him and his stolid presence, I'd have run screaming from the building. With each passing minute, my worry over Lexi grew until I could hardly stand it.

  On the rugby field, tents had been erected and we queued for our weekly rations. It wasn't much: A tin of condensed milk, a few bags of tea, a small packet of rice, a packet of beef soup, tins of sardines, mixed vegetables, and corned beef, plus two apples.

  A bar of soap, a tube of toothpaste and two rolls of toilet paper rounded
it off. It all fitted into a single plastic bag but it was something and I was grateful for it. Shoving the stuff into my backpack, I paused to drink a little water.

  Next, we were directed to a long line of people waiting to be driven home. I checked my watch. Two o'clock. It was getting late and my anxiety rose a notch. I need to get back.

  “Can't we walk?” I asked Andy. “It's not far.”

  He shook his head. “No. They don't want people on the streets. We'll be taken home and then we have to stay there.”

  “For how long? What about our rations?”

  “Delivered.”

  “What about the homeless and those who are sick?”

  “The homeless and the orphans will be housed in the church around the corner.”

  I waited but he didn't continue. “The sick?” I prompted, nudging him in the ribs.

  He shook his head and pressed his lips together. “I don't know.”

  I didn't believe him.

  “You know something,” I said. “Tell me.”

  “Ava, please.” His eyes pleaded with me.

  I had no choice but to leave it as we reached the front of the line and were loaded into another truck, open in the back. They crammed us in like sheep but I preferred it to the enclosed truck from earlier. At least, I could see what was going on.

  The people with us were cheerful. They bartered amongst each other, swapping out rations, and I spotted one man waving around a box of cigarettes.

  Smokes! I'd kill for one right then. “What do you want for it?”

  “What cans you got?”

  I named them and he smiled. “The corned beef, sardines, and condensed milk.”

  “What? Three cans?” I shook my head. “No deal.”

  Much as I wanted to smoke I couldn't give that much food away. Then I had an idea. I rummaged in my backpack and came up with the can of cool drink and the wine gums, instead. They were luxury items and as such, pretty scarce.

  His eyes bulged but he shrugged, acting casual as he took them. “Is that it?”

  I narrowed my eyes and fished out the two headache pills I had put in my pocket that morning. My headache was gone and I had plenty more. “How about these too?”