The guard swallowed, and I could feel his fear. I didn’t know if it was the animal in me that had been unleashed while out in the wild, but his emotions were palpable. I could sense them. Unlike a predator, though, I empathized and wished I could set him at ease. “Uh…warden’s gone for the evening.”
“Gone?”
I hadn’t had to say a word. Kevin was doing all the talking. Again, though, I felt bad. Maybe I should have done this myself. Kevin wasn’t being unreasonable or even angry anymore, but the man could be intimidating when he had to be.
Why the hell did that make me all hot and bothered?
“Yeah. Sorry, guys, but you’re not going anywhere tonight.”
I could hear it in Kevin’s voice, the effort it took for him to not go primal on this poor guy’s ass. I was so glad he was containing himself, but somehow he felt more dangerous this way. “Just because the warden had to go home early?”
The skinny guy now stood up straight and seemed less fearful than before. At least he could look the part—I had to give him credit there. “No one ever leaves after noon on any day. That’s just the rules. The warden can’t just let you leave. She doesn’t have the authority. The doc has to check you out first and then if you have a clean bill of health, the warden’ll release you.” Kevin was clenching his jaw and breathing through his nostrils, but he didn’t say another word. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. You’re not showing any symptoms of being infected.” He put his hands on the cart, signaling that he was ready to leave, but I could tell he didn’t want to turn his back to us. I think he wanted to make sure Kevin was going to sit down and eat before he walked to the door.
But he had my attention now. I hadn’t paid enough attention before being isolated in the mountains to know those kinds of things. My philosophy had been to avoid the sensationalism of the news, ignore the mayhem and chaos and misfortune that they hyped and played up for ratings so as to find and maintain peace for myself. The idea that I was staying away from things that didn’t directly affect me was usually spot on, but this time, I’d missed the mark. I had no fucking clue—that is, I couldn’t remember what I’d learned before getting stuck in the hills—about what kind of symptoms a person would display if she were infected.
How would I know if I was infected? And how the hell would I contract the disease anyway? I didn’t have any idea…because I hadn’t paid attention to the growing body of information on it before we left—and I’d missed yet another opportunity with Larry, the guy who’d hung on every last word about the crisis. Maybe I was infected—maybe fighting and killing all those infected people earlier in the week had compromised my system.
I made sure my voice was steady when I asked, “What are some of the symptoms?”
The guard visibly relaxed, having been given something to do other than worry if we were going to cause him harm. “Oh, you know…involuntary drooling, dark circles under the eyes, episodes kinda like petit mal seizures, where someone will stop talking for a few minutes and just stare off into space, then come back to reality and not even remember it. Um, nausea. Depression. Diarrhea. Bleeding. Anyway, those are the initial symptoms.”
I didn’t know about some of them, like staring off into space and not remembering it. And depression? Good lord. Wouldn’t anybody alive now be depressed, knowing how bleak things were? Of course, Kevin and I still hadn’t had a chance to look around the city. Maybe things weren’t as bad as they seemed. I had no idea what to expect. All I knew was that, in our time outside, I heard very little of the sounds that make a city a city—no horns, no rushing vehicles (although I did hear one on occasion), no airplanes flying overhead, no power humming here and there, no music. So I nodded and accepted the fact that a doctor would be able to tell me for certain. And then I was trying to remember what they’d said about if they discovered we were infected. What would happen to us then? Execution? Permanent banishment? Never ending lockup?
Oh, no. Something about the health authorities taking them.
The guard continued. “Then, when the infection progresses, you become what we know—biting, bleeding, changed skin tone, bloodshot or yellow eyes, all that lovely stuff.”
Kevin got back to business. He remained standing, his posture continuing to intimidate. “So when will the doctor be here next?”
“No idea.” The guard let out a breath, and I couldn’t tell if he’d relaxed or not. “Look, guys, I’m sorry. I’m sure this has to be frustrating, being separated from your friends and family and not being able to roam free, but you gotta understand.” He furrowed his brow. “I get the feeling you haven’t been here for a while, based on what the warden was sayin’. It was ugly for a long time, and we had to figure out how to protect ourselves. This works. Since we started doing this, we haven’t accidentally let infected people into the city. That makes us all safer. There were lots of people we let in before who looked perfectly healthy when they got here but the next day or the day after started biting and killing people. Not worth it.” All his fear was gone now that he had the opportunity to talk with passion. “If you’d been here, you’d understand. If you’d lost a loved one to the carelessness of just letting people in without being sure, you’d know.”
Kevin relaxed then, the man’s words moving him in some way. He nodded and moved over to the table. “All right. I guess we just wait then.”
“You won’t be here much longer. I promise.” His unspoken words—one way or another—rang in my head, almost as if he’d actually said them. I knew somehow that we’d be leaving these facilities soon, infected or not. The question was if we’d be free.
Once the guard locked the metal gates behind him, ensuring our continued imprisonment for at least one more night, Kevin said, “Tomorrow, you think?” Then he sat down next to me, pulling the plastic cover off his plate.
“This is local government, even if it is less organized. It’s Friday night. We’re probably stuck here for the weekend.”
He scowled, picking up his fork and stabbing the shit out of the poor green beans that hadn’t done anything to him. It hadn’t taken long for the pleasure of food to become blasé once more.
And that meant I was going to have to deal with brooding Kevin for two more days, a prospect that didn’t seem pleasant at all.
I’d rather be fighting infected people again.
Chapter Sixty-one
“World So Cold” – Mudvayne
WE GOT A clean bill of health and the okay to go…but it wasn’t that easy. The doctor did an exam and declared us likely uninfected. It was Saturday morning, so I had been wrong in my prediction. Apparently, the two doctors remaining in town worked when they needed to. The warden showed too and completed our paperwork, putting a plastic band around our left wrists declaring us virus free. There were also some numbers and a date as well as a barcode on the band.
Before the doctor left, Kevin asked, “Why can’t you just draw blood and find out for sure?”
The doctor’s smile was wry. “No labs up and running and it’s expensive to do. Not as easy as it was in the old world. This way is plenty effective…and, for all I know, you’re immune. You might be naturally immune or you might have had the virus but developed antibodies against it.” Her voice turned sinister and she punctuated her words carefully when she said, “If I tested your blood and it turned out that you were immune, you’d be shipped to Atlanta without any say in the matter.”
“Atlanta?”
“The CDC. They’re developing a vaccine, and they’re analyzing survivors to do it. You’d be doing it for all of mankind, but you’d be doing it. If I don’t test your blood, I don’t know, and then I’m not obligated to report anything.”
But we weren’t just set free like we’d expected. No. We were told that Kevin’s motorcycle had been stored at the community college…and we would be transported there as well. Once there, we’d be reintegrated back into society and “cut loose,” according to our driver.
It was a gray sedan, fairly ne
w looking on the interior. One thing that was comforting was being reintroduced to things we knew that were signs of our former modern-day conveniences—running cars, electricity, running water. I looked forward to going home.
But it wasn’t that easy, and it wasn’t all that it seemed.
Our driver wasn’t interested in talking. He had a rap CD he was playing in the car. Oh. So rap wasn’t my thing, but music? It was life, and I hadn’t realized how the hell much I’d missed it until I heard it again. It was amazing to listen to, and I decided that, for the time being, conversation was overrated. I started to rest my head against the back of the seat so I could lose myself in the sensation of the sounds, but then I realized I wanted to see the city. I’d been gone from Winchester for so long and so much had changed. I needed to see what I could. I would miss a good chunk of the eastern part of town, because of the route we’d have to take. Unfortunately, the jail and the community college were on the same part of town, so we’d miss a lot. I still hoped it would give us an idea of what we’d see if—no, when—we were set free. I kept reminding myself of what the guard had said, that all these things they did were precautions to save the many from the few.
Or the few from the many, as it were.
The journey there was slower than it had been a year ago, because there were lots of bicycles on the road. Our driver yielded to them and sometimes, he’d have to pull over for an occasional vehicle going the other way to get through.
It was strange.
There were also some destroyed buildings along the highway—a couple of places that had burned to the ground and others that appeared to have been gutted and simply left that way, but I could also see signs that people were trying to clean up the mess. There were priorities, though, I supposed, and if the population had dwindled as much as the doctor had intimated, then they had to plan what they were doing and when, and it would take time.
It was still my town…and yet it wasn’t.
I felt almost like I was walking through a dream, a dream where I wasn’t the main character. The town of Winchester was the protagonist—and seeing how it had changed broke my heart. I hadn’t even realized a tear had escaped the corner of my eye until I felt Kevin’s hand on my shoulder. I looked over, and he brushed a finger across my cheek. “You okay?”
Oh. And I’d thought he was immersed in his own personal pain. What a jerk I’d been. “Yeah. What about you?”
He shrugged halfheartedly. “I haven’t lived here in years, Nina. I’m not invested in it like you are.” He slid across the vinyl seat and pulled me close. It wasn’t until my head was on his chest that I let it all go.
So much for being strong.
* * *
I was relieved to find that the Winchester Community College campus looked much the same as it always had. I never made it out that way much, but—like with all colleges—I found the environment peaceful. I knew colleges and universities invested in art to make their campuses continually stimulating to the student body and faculty, but there was much focus on beauty as well. Once or twice over the years, I’d gone to the campus on my own just to reflect. I’d sit on the lawn and look at the flowers, the trees, and the various landscaping and art decorating the land between buildings (that also were planned with a thought-provoking design in mind).
It was that beauty that I allowed myself to get lost in, even for just a few moments. Drifts of snow clung against the north walls of the buildings on the lawn, almost completely melted, but those remnants made me wonder if Winchester had also had a particularly harsh winter as well.
Kevin and I got out of the car before the driver had shut off the engine. I saw Kevin looking around, trying to spot his motorcycle. There weren’t many cars here, but there were a few. No bike, though—at least not the motorized kind.
The driver got out of the car and said, “You guys’ll want to come with me. You need to meet Susana.” Kevin looked at me and I nodded, and we walked behind the driver, our boots making a rhythmic sound as we clomped across campus on the concrete sidewalks to the building behind the one where we’d parked.
One thing I’d loved about the buildings on this campus was how much glass they’d incorporated into the design, so the few times I’d visited the library or gone on campus for some other reason, I’d appreciated the natural light that dominated the rooms. That didn’t stop me from noticing that this building also had electricity.
I hadn’t noticed it at first, but when we walked past a set of drinking fountains and vending machines, I caught that the vending machines were off, but the drinking fountain was humming, no doubt refrigerating the water.
I expected to be led to an office of some sort where we’d meet some newly appointed administrator; instead, we were led to a large classroom. It was nothing fancy—just several tables and chairs with a few computers around the room. There were two women and a man sitting around a table. The driver waited for them to acknowledge our presence so he wasn’t interrupting their conversation and then he said, “These are the folks who came from the west.”
The older blonde woman raised her eyebrows and stood. “Ah. So nice to meet you both. Thank you, Angelo,” she said to the driver before he left. Then she held out a hand and took first Kevin’s and then mine to shake them. “I’m Susana Gerald.” She also introduced us to the barely-twenty female behind her and a young man, not much older than the girl, beside her.
We nodded but, I think, we were both weary and wondering if we could even trust anyone anymore. Kevin said, “I’m sure you all already know who we are.” Susana smiled, indicating that he was right. “But, just so we can pretend, I’m Kevin and this is Nina.”
I got the feeling, based on Susana’s response—or, rather, lack thereof—that we weren’t the first paranoid survivors she’d had to deal with. I was waiting to see if Kevin was going to say anything else or if I could start asking my questions. Susana was way ahead of me, though. “I’m sure you both are looking for answers—and that’s why they brought you here.”
“Who are you?” Kevin asked.
She waved her hand toward the table. “Please. Have a seat.”
The young man said, “We’ll start assigning tasks, Susana.”
She nodded and waited until the younger two left the room. “Would either of you like something to drink?” We both shook our heads, almost in unison. No pleasantries until we had answers. She repeated her request. “Please sit down. I know you want answers, and I’m prepared to give them to you.” Kevin and I sat next to each other on one side of the table, and I noticed that Susana was very careful not to sit across from us, even though that had been where she’d sat before. Instead, she sat at a diagonal from us, and I began to suspect she had a psychology background. Before I could ponder further, she said, “You asked who I am. I have been a nontraditional community leader here in Winchester for years. I say nontraditional because I have never been one for the limelight or headlines. I have always wanted action, not rhetoric, and so everything I have done is guided by those principles.
“Anyway, here we are. The proverbial shit has hit the fan.” I almost laughed, because this woman had such a dignified air about her, and hearing her say shit was as discordant as if Korn had decided to write a country song—it just didn’t fit. Before I could marvel more, though, she continued. “I sprang to action. It’s what I do.” She paused, sipping from the cup of hot tea in front of her. “You’re from Winchester?” I told her yes, even though Kevin hadn’t been from here in a long time. He didn’t protest. “But Angelo said you came from the west, right?”
Kevin stepped in. “Yeah. We were stranded.”
Susana ruminated over the information. “When did you leave here?”
“About mid-November.”
“So you probably missed it all.” She nodded. “Where have you been?”
I said, “We were stranded in the high country…a few miles outside of Chipeta Springs.”
“Hmm. There any news up that way?”
> “We were isolated. We couldn’t even make it to Chipeta.”
“Oh.” She took another sip of her tea and said, “Well, then, let me fill you in. You both probably know about the infection—that started happening in October, I believe. Well, things got bad here—fast—but it was no different across the nation. It had seemed to start slowly, and the media led us to believe there was nothing to worry about, of course, but then it was like we were overrun with the infected all of a sudden. And then, right after, the power went out.” Kevin and I both nodded, because that sounded familiar. “The first day, I didn’t think much of it. We’d had a heavy snowstorm, and you know what that’s like. The snow weighs down power lines, cuts off the electricity…or the wind causes a tree branch to do the same thing. Whatever the case, you’re at the mercy of the guys who work on that stuff. I tried calling the power company on my cell and my landline, but I couldn’t get through. I still didn’t worry, because even when I don’t call, they usually get it taken care of in due time…but the day passed and nothing. My house was getting colder, and I was wrapped in a lot of blankets. The next day, we were still powerless, and that’s when I decided to find out what was going on. At first, I just got in my car to warm up—you know, run the engine and turn on the heater—but then I decided to brave the snow and see what was happening in town.
“It was chaos. There was utter pandemonium from one end of town to another. Not only were there infected running rampant—and in record numbers—but there was a lot of looting and vandalism. You know, the riffraff who take advantage of bad situations out there trying to profit. At first, I felt like I was the only one who could see what was happening. Something out of the ordinary—something bad. I searched for people in charge in the city—the mayor, city councilmen, anyone who would listen—and didn’t have much luck. Some of them were infected; others had fled town; and some of them revealed themselves to be utter cowards without a creative bone in their body. So I gathered other people—the fire chief is a great guy; always has been. And the guy who owns one of the tattoo shops downtown? Turned out he’s a solid man with the interests of humanity at heart. The vice principal of the high school, the manager of Hometown Market, the editor of the Winchester Tribune—all good people who wanted to roll up their sleeves and set things right.
Savage Page 35