by Citroner, GW
“Go get Lil and tell her to pick a room. We’ll lock the front doors and pull the curtains to avoid attracting attention. I’ll take first watch.”
It was near midnight when they’d finished eating, and cleaned off the filth and sweat of their journey. Dan settled in behind reception to read the old magazines and newspapers he found there to pass the time. The phone rang, startling him. “Hello?”
Lily answered. “Hi Dan, I saw the phone in my room and thought I’d check it out. I guess it still works like an intercom.”
“You almost gave me a heart attack!”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“That’s alright. The quiet’s making me a little jumpy. Is everything alright?” She didn’t reply right away. “Lil, is something wrong?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing, Dan. Something smells funny and I can’t quite figure it out. I was gonna come out and ask you to take a sniff and tell me what you think, but didn’t want to bother you with something silly.”
“It’s probably nothing, but I’ll come check it out.”
Taking a deep sniff, Dan frowned. “It’s really faint, almost smells like the back of an ambulance after a few calls, but that can’t be right. I’ll grab Ty and we’ll take a look around some more. I’m sure its nothing.”
Knocking but getting no answer, Dan opened the door and peeked inside. Ty was face down on the room’s full sized bed. “Well I’ll be. He must be exhausted.”
“Poor man, let’s let him rest. I’m sure it’s just a backed up toilet or something.”
“Yeah, but let’s go down the hall and see if we missed anything.”
The smell grew stronger as they walked farther back until they were underneath a metal ladder leading to the roof. “I didn’t think this was anything we needed to bother with, since anything up there would have jumped down on us as soon as we got out of the van.”
“Let’s forget about it. It’s late, and like you said, there’s really no cause to be worried.”
“Now I’m just curious. I’ll take a quick look.” He undid the door’s latch and opened it slowly. A soft wind blew past his face, ruffling his tattered collar. Then he saw where the smell was coming from.
“Lily, stay there while I look around.”
“No problem, just hurry back. It’s a little creepy down here.”
He closed the door behind him and took a good look at what was making the strangely familiar odor.
Body bags.
About a dozen lay out across the roof, zippers faintly gleaming in the harsh highway lights. Walking between them, he saw a few obviously contained child-sized bodies.
Reminded of the danger facing his wife and son, tears found their slow way down his unshaven face. Heading back, this time going around the macabre display, something caught his eye. It was a small, cardboard box on the ground next to one of the bagged bodies. It contained a notebook, with pages full of neat handwriting. He took it with him, hoping it might explain what had happened here.
With the book hidden under his shirt, he returned. “There’s nothing to worry about on the roof. Go get some sleep. We have a long trip ahead of us tomorrow.”
Five
They sat in the reception area, preparing to leave.
“How’d you sleep, Ty?” Lily giggled shyly.
“Like the dead.” Looking up, he caught Danny’s eye. “Why’d you let me sleep through the night?”
“You were out cold, buddy. I didn’t have the heart to bother you.”
“Nothing happened anyway, except for a funny smell we checked out. Dan even looked on the roof to find out where it was coming from, he said whatever it was wasn’t anything to worry about.”
“Wait, what? What smell?”
“Lil and I smelled something unusual last night, something you would have probably recognized sooner than me. I checked out the roof and found out what it was. It was – macabre. But no danger to us at all, so I just told Lil to get back to bed.”
They stared at him expectantly, waiting for more details. “We want to know what you found!” Lily said.
“About a dozen body bags laid out in rows.”
“Empty or full?”
“I’m not joking, Ty. There are three rows of bagged bodies up there. I also found this.” He pulled out the notebook and showed it to them. “I glanced through it, but haven’t read it yet. I think it’s an account of what happened to them and why they’re up there. It’s written in pencil and was exposed to the weather, so lots of it is faded, smudged, and stuck together. But we should be able to get an idea.”
Lily pouted. “You should have told me! I would have slept in the van if I knew what was up there.”
“I know, but there was no danger from the roof and considerably more risk by staying in the van. At least you got a comfortable night’s sleep that you wouldn’t have had otherwise.”
“I guess you’re right, but, I don’t know, it gives me the willies!”
“How about we read the notebook?” Ty asked. “I’d like to know what happened.”
“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got. The first entry is dated May third, a couple of weeks before we headed out and just when this mess was getting into full swing.”
Friday, May 3
My name is Pastor Robert Schaefer, and this is an account of my congregation’s efforts to survive the challenges of this new plague.
Today we’ve gathered to take refuge in our church. Weaverville has been spared the worst of the change sickness, so far. Nevertheless, enough attacks have occurred overnight that I’ve decided there is more safety in numbers. I suggested sheltering in place during last Sunday’s sermon and between the eight families who agreed to shelter here, we have ten men to defend eighteen women and children, with enough supplies, weapons, and ammunition to last at least a few weeks, by which time I anticipate this crisis will have passed.
Sunday, May 5
Miguel Gonzalez succumbed to infection last night.
He complained to his wife of feeling poorly at dinner, and by eight he’d developed the pain, fever and bloodshot eyes typical of infection. His brother Mario took him out to our garden and helped him end his life before the madness set in.
I read from psalms as they dug the grave to lay our brother to rest, and spoke of his bravery in the face of death afterward. I know it was a comfort to his family. Since he died to prevent greater evil from visiting his family and friends, I don’t believe it can be considered a suicide, so he may rest peacefully in our consecrated ground.
Miguel was twenty-eight. He leaves behind his wife, Inez, and three young children; Tomas, Noemi, and Alberto.
We are keeping a much closer eye on each other from this point onward, in case anyone else shows the signs of sickness. Anyone on guard duty will now also check for fevers within these walls as well as dangers that may come from outside.
Monday, May 6
The children are especially rambunctious today, so I’ve allowed them to play in the parking lot (with an armed guard). We’ve settled into a routine that’s kept everyone calm and suitably occupied. Cleaning, cooking, simple repairs, impromptu school lessons, and so on have been delegated among those most capable for the task.
I must admit to great surprise at how rapidly our food has been used up. I’m afraid they’re not taking my ration schedule seriously enough. At this rate, we may run low within the next week or so.
(Two or three paragraphs smudged out)
…can’t continue taking meat out of the freezer whenever they want. But Jose was offended that I would take food from his children’s mouths. His wife began yelling the same at me, joined by the other women. I’m resigned at this point. Within the week, we’ll need to send men out looking for supplies, and from what we’ve heard so far, both the disease and the chaos it brings are spreading.
Tuesday, May 7
Unbelievable, I woke up this morning and (several lines unreadable) it tries my patience. A barbecue of all
things! (Water stained area) freezer is almost empty, however there is enough rice, pasta, and canned food to last a few more days.
The smell attracted a change-infected man who battered the front doors until they began cracking under the attack. I stood ready with a rifle as one of the men quickly opened the door. Caught by surprise I managed to shoot the unfortunate before he could enter. He lies on our front steps even now – no one will risk touching the body.
(illegible paragraph)
Cell service is out for good this time, no more internet and no calling for help, even if there was any to be had.
Wednesday, May 15
Our supplies are gone. God save me from short-minded people! The plumbing is hopelessly blocked (illegible) stink is everywhere, we’re using the garden now, but no one will bury their own waste.
We lost power for three hours this afternoon and I think electricity will be gone in this area soon. No one wants to risk attack or infection leaving the church to find much needed supplies. I try to explain but (several lines are too faded to understand) cowards, even when the safety of their own families is at stake.
Roof lookouts see no signs of life, the area seems abandoned. We may be the only people left here. I can’t be completely sure because whenever I check our ‘guards’ one or two are asleep at their post. At this point, I don’t believe the authorities will restore order anytime soon. My faith in the inherent goodness of (heavily smudged over half the page). God damn them all.
The bus still has a full tank. It may be time to take our chances on the outside.
Thursday, May 16
We lost five last night. Pacheco, his wife and their three children. He took his family to the basement while we were all eating our meager dinner upstairs in the pews. It seems he lost all hope and shot them dead before taking his own life. We laid them in the garden, I prayed for their souls, but have little hope in God’s mercy for the rest of us.
Friday, May 18
(Too faint to read) but I finally convinced them how important it was to leave the area to find food and medical care. We’re filthy, and the children are increasingly either listless or hysterical. Fights over whatever food is left have become vicious, (page is torn)
She’ll probably lose the eye, but bandaged it as well as I could (illegible) think her jaw is broken, but shouldn’t have attacked Maria, men refuse to get involved or even break up fights when they happen.
(Top half of page too faint to read.)
Sunday, May 20
The Jimenez twins went outside without permission or an escort. I realized what they’d done after catching one crawling back in through an unsecured window. How stupid. One is showing signs of infection and I fear the other one will also have headache and fever soon. They’ve admitted to poking the body left on the church steps as part of some game.
(Most of next page jaggedly torn out)
She screamed horribly as they attacked, ripping her throat and belly open in a frenzy. We shot them both as they gorged on their mother’s flesh. Their souls are lost to God. We must leave before we all burn in hell.
Monday, May 21
(Illegible) enough fuel oil siphoned from the tank to fill three large, empty vegetable oil containers, about thirty gallons. It should do. We’ve scavenged just enough food and water to make three days on the road. We even have spark plugs, containers of motor oil, wiper fluid, and anti-freeze. I pray the bus can carry us far enough, but no longer believe He hears me.
Tuesday, May 22
Everyone wants to head south, but I think we should go west to Atlanta. The CDC center is there and should have a vaccine or some kind of treatment.
(Too faint to make out)
Hitting the road tomorrow – we’ll head west to Idaho then turn south. Three or four days should see us there. The mood was turning dangerous but leaving has lifted spirits considerably. I can’t shake the feeling that this is the end times. Does God want us to survive? Maybe we’re going against His will. This world is an evil place and the disease is his retribution. Maybe what he really wants is for good men to pass from this world and join Him in paradise. Am I doing the right thing helping them to survive?
Friday, May 25
Three more have caught the disease, two others killed. We’re out of food. I simply can’t drive and prevent them from gorging on our supplies. We still have bottled water, juice and soda left to last days. They can’t understand that stopping to find more supplies presents to great a risk. Stopping at this motel, we found it abandoned. No supplies but a safe place. The men searched the area but brought back too little to satisfy everyone’s hunger, but apparently managed to ransack a liquor store. There were angry words as those who remained accused the scavenging party of eating most of what they had found before returning. They may have a point. But the liquor they returned with satisfied the rest. Children are constantly crying now and fights are breaking out between my drunken parishioners. This is not God’s way. But if I can’t save their bodies, I think I can still save their souls.
(Unreadable)
This place is where the Lord has decided we are to leave and join his heavenly hosts as the world is cleansed of Satan’s works. There is no help for us.
(Smudged)
Soda and anti-freeze worked well, they didn’t suspect until it was too late. The children were frightened as the mixture took their sight before killing them. I comforted them. I prayed for their souls as they died. The adults were easier. They were too drunk to realize the canned soup was poisoned. I can’t bury them all by myself but can’t leave them out for animals to eat either. Didn’t think that out properly, can’t really think well at all lately. My head aches constantly.
Monday, May 28
(Two or three paragraphs smeared) hospital had body bags. (Unreadable) the means to respect their remains. My head still hurts horribly and now I’ve developed some kind of rash. I’ll drink and lay myself down now, to awake in the glory of a new day with our savior. May God have mercy on me and bless whoever finds this record of our last days in this doomed world.
“Those poor people,” said Lily as tears rolled gently down her cheek.
Ty grimaced. “He was a crazy bastard – who could do that to kids? Do you think they knew what they were drinking? They died blindly trusting him to keep them safe.”
Dan shook his head. “It sounds like he was infected at the end, and it was eating away his sanity or maybe it was just the hopelessness of it all. Only God can judge him now.”
Six
Idaho slowly unrolled before them. They stayed under fifty to avoid abandoned cars and debris on the road. Nearing Boise, they began seeing a few military and emergency services vehicles sharing the road. While the sight was surprising, they didn’t attempt to stop anyone for news of the disaster. Fortunately, no one attempted to flag them down. They worried even law enforcement would try to confiscate their supplies.
“We’re still OK for gas, but I could use a break, Ty.” Dan squirmed uncomfortably as his bladder grew increasingly strained.
“I think we could all do with stretching our legs a bit.” Ty strained his eyes to look ahead. “I see something up ahead, looks like a car lot. We might find someone willing to pass on news.”
It wasn’t just any car lot. It was a Ford dealership, and Dan looked longingly at the shiny new trucks. A four-wheel drive would probably come in handy on their way to Louisiana. He pulled up to the front entrance. The lights were on inside and there was an older man at the front desk.
They walked in together. Dan spoke first. “Hello, sir. We’d like to use the facilities. I’d also like to know what news you’ve heard, with the radio stations and cell service down we’re a little out of touch.”
The older man looked them over, two beaten and bloodstained men accompanied by a young girl in equally rough condition. “You been having a hard time, haven’t you? Then again, who isn’t?” He extended a hand. “I’m Rich Newsome, welcome to what’s left of Newsome Ford. You’ll fi
nd restrooms in the back, and showers in the mechanic’s locker room downstairs. Feel free to clean yourselves up as best you can.”
“Thank you, Mr. Newsome.”
“Just call me Rich. When you’ve refreshed yourselves, I have coffee and donuts. We can sit down and talk for a while.”
They were sitting around the big customer service desk and sipping black coffees to wash down the dozen or so stale donuts they’d shared between them when Rich asked, “Now that you’re all comfortable we can trade news. Why don’t we start with what brings you all to these parts?”
Dan spoke matter of factly. “I drove down from Oregon with my friend. A place called Hillsboro, near Portland. We were paramedics there. We’re heading to Louisiana to get my wife and son from her mom’s place in Lafayette. We found Lily in a car wreck on I-84. Her mom was infected. We found her hiding under the car, already changed.”
He avoided discussing the fact that Ty had put a bullet in her eye to stop her from attacking him.
“Do any of you know for sure that you’re immune to this thing, whatever it is that’s turned the world upside down?”
“Ty and I have had close contact with the infected and are OK so far. Lily’s mother was infected while in a car with her, and she hasn’t shown symptoms yet. I don’t think there’s a problem, the news reports said only a small percent of people can be infected.”
He leaned over his desk. “How long has it been since then?”
Ty replied. “A couple of days, I guess.”
“And you’re taking her to Lafayette with you?”
“No, we agreed to take her to her grandmother’s place in Abilene, and then continue on to Lafayette for my family. Now, can you tell us how things are here? How is it that you’re sitting here open for business when everyone seems to be hiding out wherever they can?”
“Well, I’ll get to that a little later. To answer your first question, things are rough here, but not quite as bad as where you came from. A small contingent of military arrived from back east not long ago, bringing scientists as well as soldiers. Working together with our National Guard they’ve helped keep things under control, they took over Boise when state and local authorities fell apart and have protected us from the worst of this crisis.” He sat back in his chair. “To answer your second question, I offered the Guard use of my vehicles, as needed, and they asked me to stay here and greet visitors looking for help. So, I’m sort of the welcome center.”