by Dave Bowman
3
September 3
It took Liz a moment to realize where she was. She opened her eyes after just a few short hours of sleep and looked around. She was in Sarah’s spare bedroom.
Liz had spent the night caring for her friend. As she watched helplessly, Sarah had grown weaker and more disoriented, and it pained Liz to see her in such agony. She had begged Sarah to go to the hospital, thinking that maybe a doctor would see her if she showed up in person at the clinic, despite the phone operator telling her they were closed. But Sarah refused, and she was too weak to walk to the car anyway.
Victor had never arrived or responded to Liz’s attempts to contact him, which worried Liz to no end. It was very unlike Victor to disappear like this. She had also called Sarah’s parents dozens of times, but no one answered. Were they all sick with the same thing?
After writhing in pain for hours while Liz tried to bring her raging fever down with wet wash cloths, Sarah had finally fallen into a more peaceful state of semi-sleep. Liz took the opportunity to get some sleep herself. Now, she needed to see how her friend was doing.
Liz got out of bed and crept through the silent house, the place where she and her friend had shared so many evenings watching movies, laughing and drinking wine. She pushed the master bedroom door open, terrified to enter the room but compelled to do so.
She shrieked, turning her head away. Sarah lay dead in her bed, twisted and gray. Most disturbing of all, her mouth had frozen in a wide grin. She seemed to have died while smiling.
Liz ran outside, gasping for air.
This can't be happening. Can't be.
She vomited in the flower beds, feeling dizzy and scared. She fell on the grass, sobbing. How could Sarah be dead? How could it have happened so fast? She had lost the person closest to her in the world, and she didn’t know what she would do.
When she caught her breath again, she looked up and down the street. It was dead silent, despite there being many cars parked in driveways, which itself was odd for a weekday morning.
Liz needed to tell someone about Sarah. There would be arrangements to make, and she couldn't face her friend's dead body alone.
She spotted the next-door neighbor's car parked in its driveway. She knocked on the front door a couple of times. There was no answer at that door, or at the doors at any of the four neighbors she tried. It filled Liz with dread, but she couldn’t make sense of why or what was happening. Her best friend was dead, and it was difficult to think clearly.
She walked back inside the house and into the bedroom. Sarah needed to be covered up. Liz pulled a bed sheet over her friend's body, closed the door, and walked in a daze to the living room.
Liz again tried 911. No answer. Then she dialed every number she could think of -- other friends, Frank, her co-workers. No one was answering the calls.
Every number she tried was busy. Something must be wrong with the phone lines.
But even as she tried to explain it away, she knew it was probably more than a simple mix-up with the phone lines. She shuddered.
It's as if everyone died last night.
Liz herself had no family left. Her parents and brother had passed away in a car accident years ago, hit by a drunk driver. She had felt like the world was over when it happened. The loneliness had enveloped her after their deaths.
Those same feelings came rushing back to her now. The fear, the crushing solitude.
What would she do now?
She had to leave this silent house, this silent neighborhood. She had to find someone else alive, or she feared for her sanity.
She got into her car and drove through the empty neighborhood, turning onto a larger street a few blocks away.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw a woman walking on the sidewalk. Finally, another living person.
Liz slowed down as she approached and her heart sank as she got a better look. The woman looked dazed and weak, with the same gray tint to her skin that she had seen in Frank and Sarah.
Liz braked and came to a stop. She couldn’t leave the obviously sick woman to fend for herself. A fleeting worry about catching whatever the woman had passed through her mind, and she scoffed at it. After all, she had spent hours at Sarah’s bedside, and she had stood just a few feet from Frank in an enclosed office. If the Hosta virus was so contagious, Liz was probably already infected, she realized with a pit in her stomach. Might as well help someone in need.
She reversed her Honda and stopped in front of the woman, shifting the gear stick to neutral.
"Do you need some help?"
The woman seemed confused, as if she wasn't sure where Liz's voice was coming from. Finally her eyes fell on Liz, and relief appeared on her sick face.
"Doctor," the woman muttered weakly. "Need doctor. Dying."
Liz jerked the parking brake up, then got out of the car and approached the woman. Her breath caught in her lungs. The woman smelled horribly, like decay. And she was on fire. Liz could feel the heat coming off her body like an oven.
"I can take you to the hospital," Liz offered, opening the passenger door. “They weren’t accepting anyone when I called yesterday, but we can try anyway.”
The woman didn't reply, but slowly reached out to grip the door and hoisted her frail body into the seat.
“Is your family...” Liz started to ask, but didn't know how to complete her question.
“Dead,” the woman muttered as she collapsed in the seat.
Liz drove off, eyeing the sick woman, who seemed to be getting sicker by the minute.
Liz felt her stomach drop.
The hospital was not far, and she arrived quickly. But she was disappointed to see a road block obstructing her entrance. Liz craned her neck to read the sign attached to the barricade.
CLOSED – TRY RED CROSS – 45th STREET
Liz made a quick U-turn and sped off. The Red Cross was at least a couple of miles away, and her passenger was wilting.
They were only a couple of blocks down the road when the woman made some kind of sound -- a cry or a whimper. Liz, who had been scared to glance at the woman again since leaving the hospital, looked over to see the woman's face opening into a big grin. Liz realized what the sound was. The dying woman was laughing.
Liz eyed her curiously, chilled to see the woman so happy. The woman began to mumble something under her breath.
"What?" Liz asked, flashing her eyes back and forth between the road and the passenger.
But the woman didn't answer. She mumbled a few more words, then she grew silent, grinning like a crazy person. She stared without blinking into space, as if she could see something just in front of her face.
It was creeping Liz out, and she stepped on the gas, no longer bothering to even slow down at the empty intersections. She couldn't bring herself to look at the woman again.
She swerved into the Red Cross parking lot, which was full of parked cars. She stopped right in front of the entrance, jumped out, and ran inside the building.
The scene made her gasp. There were beds and stretchers with bodies everywhere. Some bodies were moving, some weren't. The horrible smell that hit her in the face made it clear that death was all around.
She spotted some kind of health worker moving through the chaos, wearing a mask and protective clothing.
"I need help," Liz called. "I've got a sick woman in my car. I found her out on the road, looking for a doctor."
The worker glanced up briefly but didn't stop what he was doing. "How far along is she?" he asked as he pushed a gurney with a lifeless body to the side of the room.
The man's voice sounded weak, and Liz could detect a tinge of gray in his face even with the mask on. He was sick, too.
"She's gray, and hot, and..." Liz paused, remembering the haunting image of the woman smiling like a lunatic.
"Is she smiling? Laughing?"
Liz gulped. "Yes."
"She doesn't have much longer," he said. "That happens right at the end. Drive around bac
k and there are some guys who can help you."
Liz left without a word, too struck by the horrific scene to speak. She got back in her car, careful to not look directly at the woman, who was unmoving and silent. Liz knew that the woman was already gone, but she couldn't bring herself to look at her face.
Behind the building there were two men wearing gas masks and wheeling a stretcher with a body covered by a sheet. They looked up at the sound of Liz's car, and directed her to park at the edge of the parking lot.
One of them opened the passenger side door and checked the lifeless woman's pulse.
"Is she a relative of yours?" he asked Liz.
Liz shook her head. "I don't know her. Just saw her walking down the street and I tried to take her to the hospital. She said her family's... um, dead."
"She's dead now, too. We've got too many bodies to bury at the moment. We'll have to burn her with the rest. That's what we're doing with the ones who don't have family left to claim them."
Horrified, Liz turned away as the two men lifted the body out of her car and took it behind another, smaller building. She caught a glimpse of what looked to be a huge pile of bodies in the dirt. Shocked, she quickly looked away.
Liz stood beside her car, alone and dazed. One of the men began to return toward the main building, pushing the empty stretcher over the parking lot.
"Do they all go like that?" she asked. "You know, smiling like that?"
"As far as I've seen, yeah," he answered bleakly. "Grinning, laughing, carrying on. Like they're in ecstasy right before it happens. It's the craziest thing."
He continued walking, then stopped when Liz spoke again.
“What's happening?” Liz asked, her voice trembling. "This is crazy."
The guy squinted at her. "It's the Hosta virus. It's spreading all over the world.”
"I know it's the Hosta virus, but I didn't know it was killing people like this."
"People are dying all over this city, kid," the guy said. "All over the world. Where've you been? Living under a rock?"
Liz was silent. Other than Sarah, she had been alone in the world for years. And now she was truly alone.
"I guess I don't really keep up with the news. I'd heard people talking about the bug, but I didn't think much of it."
The man shook his head sadly. "Yeah, we kept thinking it'd go away. Or they'd find a cure."
"But where did the virus come from? How did this begin?"
"The news folks say it got started in Europe; it was some virus they were researching and it got out of hand. It's spread by everything -- air, food, water. They say it has a two or three day incubation period before you start to show signs of it. Then once you have the first symptoms you die within one to three days. So far me and Paul back there are symptom-free. Knock on wood it stays like that. I guess some folks are naturally immune. Not many, though."
The man looked over his shoulder to make sure no one else could hear them, and he lowered his voice. "But if you ask me, I think it's all a big conspiracy. I think it was a biological weapon someone was developing, and it got out of hand. It spread too fast, and now it's out of control. Somebody sure dropped the ball on this one."
Liz blinked, too overwhelmed and shocked to speak for a moment. Her mind returned to the most immediate problem she had: Sarah's lying dead in her house.
“My best friend is dead,” Liz said. “I can't contact her husband or her family. I don't know what to do with...”
Her voice trailed off.
“With her body?” the man asked. “Not much you can do but leave her or bring her here. Or you can bury her.”
The man looked again at Liz.
“Are you all on your own? You got any family or friends left? It's not good for you to be alone now.”
Liz swallowed. “I'll be all right,” she said, trying to convince herself.
“Are you sure?” he asked again.
She nodded, then turned toward the car door. “I've got to go. Thanks for your help.”
The guy shook his head a little as he returned to his work. “Be careful out there.”
Liz drove home to her apartment in a daze. Once inside the tiny studio, she stood in the middle of the room, looking around at her things. She felt paralyzed, but she knew she would have to formulate some kind of plan. Taking care of Sarah was only the beginning. She would have to find a way to survive in this empty new world.
But for now, she was exhausted, and she crawled into bed and closed her eyes. Suddenly, the need for sleep eclipsed every other concern.
4
Nick sat on the ground, warm from the late morning sun, and leaned against the shed. He looked at the mound of earth a few feet away, and felt an unbearable weight pressing down on him. He felt that weight would be there forever. The world no longer made any sense.
He had taken Kaitlyn to the hospital that first day she had come home sick from work. She had spent a few hours sharing a room with a bunch of other sick, gray people, waiting to be seen. The doctors gave her antibiotics and painkillers, but they were scared. Nick could see it in their eyes. No one had any cure for this, and people were starting to die. He had to get her out of there.
She wanted above all to keep Owen from catching it. Nick arranged for their son to stay with Kaitlyn's parents, who lived across town. Then he brought his wife home. There was nothing he could do for her besides keep her as comfortable as possible. He watched, anguished, as she writhed and mumbled in bed, growing weaker by the hour.
Then his mother-in-law had called yesterday morning. Kaitlyn's parents had gotten sick, and Owen had it too. It was then that Nick knew his world was ending. There was no escape from this thing.
He brought Owen home and laid him gently in the child's bed to sleep. He never told Kaitlyn that their little boy was ill. Not that it would have mattered. By that time, his wife had grown delirious. Smiling and laughing, suspended in some kind of la-la land. Finally, it was over, and he pulled the sheet over her, saying goodbye to her beautiful face one last time. She had been the love of his life, and he had never thought it would end so soon.
Nick had spent the night caring for Owen, trying to ease his pain and bring the fever down. But his efforts were in vain. Nick's precious son had followed his mother the next morning.
He looked over at the mound of dirt, nearly choking with grief. He had placed two crosses at the grave and picked some of the flowers from Kaitlyn's garden to lay on the mound. He had said a prayer, asking for his family to be at peace, asking for forgiveness for his inability to save them.
Now, slumped against his tool shed, he wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. He had planned for their future for so long, but not this. Never this.
He and Kaitlyn had been preparing for a move to the New Mexico lodge for years. They considered the off-grid home in the mountains as not only the key to their future homestead and a simpler life, but also as a place to survive the collapse of society.
For a long time, they had both suspected something would happen to unravel modern civilization -- loss of power systems, nuclear attack, collapse of the economy – maybe all three. And he knew living in a city would not be an ideal location for watching the world crumble around them.
Instead, they planned to move north as soon as they had enough money shored up to quit their jobs. The remote lodge was situated in the mountains of northern New Mexico. It was a comfortable lodge, big enough for his family as well as his brother Tim’s family, who lived in East Texas. The lodge had belonged to their grandfather, and Nick and Tim had made a trip at least once a year to hunt there since they were boys.
It was well-equipped, with lots of rations, a water supply, land for hunting, and a meadow with open space to one day grow some food. Each time they went, they worked to stock it with canned and dried food, supplies, and tools. Little by little, they prepared to get the lodge ready to support their families. The ultimate goal had always been to set up a homestead and become self sufficient.
Of course, they would need startup money. Nick had been working hard as a construction contractor, and Kaitlyn as a human resources manager, to shore up savings. They planned to save enough to quit their day jobs and move out to live at the lodge. Their dream had been to live a simple life off the land, apocalypse or no apocalypse.
And they had been so close to their dream. Just a few more months and they would have been able to relocate to the cool mountains to the north.
If only they had left sooner, his family might still be alive. Maybe they could have been safe from the virus in the isolated lodge.
But it was all too late. Now, nothing much mattered at all.
Nick sprang to his feet and charged into the house, throwing the back door open and letting it slam shut.
Storming into the bathroom, he stopped in front of the mirror, his shoulders hunched as he bent forward to examine his face. After surveying his skin and eyes for any sign of illness, he pounded his fist on the counter.
There was no gray, no bulging eyes, no dark circles. He looked and felt as healthy as ever. That meant there was no way out of his anguish.
The only things that mattered to him had been taken away from him, and he would have to face living without them. It's what she would have wanted, he thought. I have to go on living for her.
He stalked out into the living room, and saw their things everywhere. Kaitlyn's sweater and purse on the couch. Some of Owen's science fiction books strewn about.
He knew he had to leave his house behind, and soon. There was nothing left for him in this home. He couldn't face the ghost of his old life.
And besides, if this virus was killing people all over, he knew that the city would be no place to hang around for long. Law and order would deteriorate fast, and he didn't want to stick around to watch it happen.
He would leave tomorrow. But first he had to make some preparations.
He walked to the safe in his bedroom and unlocked it. He took out his Glock 17 and looked it over. He holstered it, and then he grabbed his keys.