Aiden sits down next to me. “The Germs are growing in number.”
“Germs?”
“Them,” he says. “I figured I might as well give them a nickname. Seems like something people in the movies do.”
“We’re not in the movies, Aiden,” I remind him.
He grunts. “No. If we were, I’d flip to the end of the script to see if I survive.”
I smile and nudge his shoulder with my own. “I bet you would. You’d be the handsome, masculine lead role…all the ladies would be fighting for your affection while you fearlessly protect them from the Germs.” I pretend to think about it for a minute, then shrug. “I think it has potential at the box office.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’d probably be the one who stupidly sacrifices his life right before the cure is found. But you,” he says, winking, “you’d be the real hero.”
“Me?” I say, surprised. “Why would I be the hero?”
He grows serious. “You’ve got the one thing we all wish we had...immunity.”
“If only that were true.” I sigh and look around at all the people huddled together around cell phones and radios, desperate for information. “I’d probably be the idiot who gets killed in the opening sequence because I forgot to watch the news.”
He smiles. “Maybe.”
“So, it’s getting worse?” I ask him.
“It’s not looking good. From what I’ve gathered, almost everyone left in the city is dead...or not, depending on how you look at it. The military is pulling out soon. When that happens…” he trails off, letting me fill in the blanks with my own imagination.
It doesn’t take long.
“What are we going to do?” I ask.
“I haven’t figured that out yet, but I do know we can’t stay in the shelter much longer.”
“Why?”
“Because the food and supplies are running out.”
May 19, 2019
It’s been five days since the outbreak began.
Not even a week, but it feels like I’ve been here forever.
I’ve made friends with the middle-aged woman “living” beside us. The one who let us use her phone even though its battery was low. She’s nice, and amazingly level-headed, which helps me navigate this hopeless situation with a little less hysteria. I don’t know her name…names don’t seem as important anymore, and that strikes me as incredibly sad and unfortunate. Especially when I realize Aiden might be the only human still alive who knows my name.
The lady throws her legs over the side of the cot and sits up. She massages her neck. “Man, what I wouldn’t give to be in my own bed again.”
“Yeah, these army cots leave a lot to be desired,” I agree.
“Are the guys out and about? Playing detective?” she asks with a small smile.
I nod. Aiden and her husband have taken to sneaking around the concourses and bathrooms at night, trying to glean information from the soldiers and police officers who’ve been assigned our section of the shelter. It’s the only way we’re able to learn anything new. The news reports are repeating themselves; sometimes I wonder if it’s just the same segment playing on an endless loop.
“What do you think the military plans to do now that the city has fallen?” she asks in a whisper.
“It won’t be anything good.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I minored in history,” I explain. “Things usually get worse once the military gets involved.”
“I’m guessing you’re not a support the troops kind of girl?” she asks.
I laugh. “I’m not burning my bra in the streets, or anything like that. It just feels weird…” I say, trailing off.
“What’s that?”
I look at her. “I’ve never been the military’s enemy before.”
“Why do you believe you’re their enemy?”
“They’re trained to eliminate threats.” I look around the stadium. There are pockets of people throughout the shelter tending to others; some of their patients are sick from one of the many common viruses being passed through the shelter, others are elderly or in need of medication we don’t have. There are just as many cots holding those who’ve been bitten; although they seem to disappear in the hours between dusk and dawn. I look back at my new friend. “In this narrative, we’re the threat.”
She nods. “I suppose that’s true.”
I sigh and look at the people in our immediate area. Two men are arguing over a candy bar; a woman is crying over a sick child, mumbling words in a language I can’t understand; and, a small dog whines at the feet of his dying owner.
Aiden is right. We need to leave. Soon.
May 22, 2019
The lady signals for my attention.
“Has Aiden heard anything new today?” she asks.
She looks worried. Her eyes are tired, and her face is pale. I glance at her husband. A fresh Germ bit him yesterday as he was coming out of the bathroom. He doesn’t look good. The virus is already spreading through his body.
He’s dying.
I look around to make sure no one is listening. “He overheard a couple of soldiers talking this morning,” I whisper. “They’re worried about the outer walls of the shelter. It’s reinforced glass,” I say, repeating Aiden’s earlier report, “but they’re worried it won’t hold much longer. There’s too many of them now.”
The woman nods and looks down at her husband. “There’ll be more to come,” she says sadly.
“Don’t say that.”
She looks at me through unshed tears. “Not saying it doesn’t stop it from happening. That’s what I’ve always told others.” She looks back at her dying husband and gently touches his leg. “Saying the words out loud doesn’t give death more power…nor does it send death scurrying away.”
“I wish I could be more like you,” I say. “I haven’t been able to talk about my sister since…”
She waits patiently for me to continue. When I don’t, she prompts me with a, “Since she died?”
I nod and chew my lip, fighting the urge to cry.
“You have to say it, dear. Maybe not today, but eventually.” She takes my hand in hers. “For your own sake, you have to be strong enough to talk about the things that happen to you. It’s the only way to heal.”
Anxiety and sorrow war in my chest, sending ripples of nausea through my stomach and causing my heart to stumble over the fractures running through it. I shake my head. “I don’t think I can say it yet.”
She nods and pats my hand. “Eventually. Okay?”
I look at her husband again. How much longer until we’re all looking death in the face? Will I die before I find the strength to talk about my sister’s death?
I squeeze the woman’s hand softly. “I…” I swallow the lump in my throat and continue. “I think I’m afraid to talk about it because it reminds me of my own mortality.” I sigh. “If Mary died, that means I can, too.”
She nods. “Yes, but that’s always been the case, dear.”
“I know, but I guess I thought it would happen when I was old.”
“You’ve never been promised a long life. None of us have. I want you to remember that, okay?” she says.
I nod.
“When you start worrying about it, I want you to say, ”there are no guarantees in life, so I’m going to enjoy this moment, and not worry about the ones that follow”. Can you do that for me?” she asks.
I nod again and she releases my hand, seemingly satisfied. I watch as she goes back to tending her husband, humming the tune to a sad song. I think about her advice…it seems wise, but what if I can’t enjoy the moment? What if my remaining times on earth is filled with nothing but hard times and irrepressible fear? What if I’m destined to die a violent death, and there’s not a single enjoyable moment leading up to the end?
What advice is there for that?
May 23, 2019
The sound of voices arguing wakes me in the middle of the night.
The
lady is crying...pleading with someone. I turn over on my cot and wipe the sleep from my eyes. It seems like forever before my eyes focus; when they do, I see two soldiers dressed in white protective gear, bent over her husband.
They’re ignoring the woman’s cries.
“What’s going on?” I ask, sitting up.
The soldier on the left turns and says, “Go back to sleep, ma’am.”
“I will not. What are you doing to him?”
“They’re going to take him away,” the woman says, weeping.
I realize I haven’t seen her cry since I met her. It unnerves me. The commotion finally wakes Aiden. Once he realizes what’s happening, he sits up, fully alert. The soldiers grab the husband’s legs and lift. The lady lunges for the soldier who spoke earlier. In an instant, his hand flies out and strikes her across the face. She falls to the ground, unconscious.
“Hey!” I yell. “You can’t just hit her like that!”
Aiden grabs me by the arm. “Allyson, stop it!” he hisses.
I jerk my arm away from him, but he grabs it again. “No!” I yell. “They hurt her, and they’re taking her husband!”
“I know,” he whispers. He yanks my arm again, harder, getting my attention. “I know, and it sucks…but he was dead the minute the virus started spreading through his veins.”
I try to jerk my arm from him again, but his grip is too strong. “That doesn’t give them the right to murder him,” I say.
“They have the right to do whatever they want, Allyson.”
Tears fill my eyes. “Is this what we are now, Aiden? Someone determines we’re done, and we just get carried off in the middle of the night? No questions asked?”
He nods, but he looks as sick as I feel. The two soldiers disappear with the woman’s husband. I look back at Aiden, a request burning in my eyes. He understands what I need.
He releases my arm. “I’ll follow them. You stay put.”
I nod and watch him make his way through the maze of cots and luggage and trash. The shelter smells, but I’ve not had access to fresh air since Friday, so I barely notice it anymore. That’s what happens with anything, I guess; you experience it enough, you stop noticing. I think about the husband…carried off in the middle of the night. How many more times will I see something like that before I don’t even blink when it happens?
May 24, 2019
We didn’t have good news for the woman when she finally opened her eyes.
Last night, Aiden followed the soldiers and their infected cargo through the halls of the shelter. They carried the ailing man all the way to the loading docks before they put a bullet in his head and threw him onto a growing pile of victims.
She cried after we told her. Once she was empty, she wiped her eyes and said, “Okay. I knew it was going to happen. I just wish I could have said goodbye to him before…” Another round of sobs interrupts her.
I sit there, helpless, watching her process the news.
I look around the shelter, at all the other pockets of grief and fear surrounding us. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Everything seems so hopeless.”
She runs a shaky hand across her face. “I don’t know. I still have a little hope left.”
“I wish I did.”
She looks at me with a sad smile. “Don’t you have any family left...out there?” she asks, gesturing toward the world beyond these cement walls.
“I’m not sure about my parents or my younger brother,” I admit. “If they’re gone, then no.”
“That’s your hope, then,” she says. “If you don’t know for sure, there’s a chance they’re still alive.” She gets a faraway look in her eyes. “I talked to my daughter once, not long after we got here. She and my son were alive…then, anyway.” She looks back at me. “I’m going to keep believing they still are.”
“I wasn’t able to reach my parents. It just kept going straight to voicemail.”
“That’s not a confirmation of death,” she argues.
“It’s not a promising proof of life, either.”
“I never asked where you were when it happened,” the woman says. “Where we were that first day will become our origin stories, I’m afraid.”
“Everyone keeps saying that first day like this virus just popped up out of nowhere.”
We both turn and look in the direction of the unfamiliar voice. An elderly man with a weathered face and large nose sits on a sagging cot, a row over. His bushy eyebrows nearly cover his eyes.
“Excuse me?” I say.
He shakes his head in disgust. “No one notices an old man. I’ve been sitting here for ten days, listening to you swap your information…but no one ever asked what I knew.” He rubs his crumpled mouth with a hand covered in arthritic knots. “I used to tell my Agnes it felt like no one even saw us anymore once we were old and useless. She didn’t believe me, but it’s just as true now as it ever was. No one notices an old man. That’s how I’m able to listen while the soldiers spill their ugly secrets.”
“What have you heard?” I ask.
He sits straighter on his cot, pleased to be the holder of priceless information. “Friday wasn’t the beginning. They’ve been tracking whatever this is since last October. Nearly seven months, now,” he says, with a shake of his head.
“October?” the woman says in disbelief. “How did we not notice it?”
“Wasn’t as widespread then, apparently. I heard them say it started in Africa, but the news was told to report it as another strain of Ebola, or some such disease.”
“You know, I remember seeing something about that on Worldspan,” the woman says, nodding her head. “But those victims weren’t coming back from the dead.”
“They were...they just weren’t reporting it. Because they couldn’t,” he explains. “They were told to keep a lid on it while the governments worked to contain the problem.”
“How did it start? Did they say? Do they know?” I ask in rapid succession.
He shrugs. “I heard them mention something about the flu shot...that whatever was happening over there led to the vaccine restriction over here.”
I zone out, thinking. Something doesn’t make sense. I remember seeing a few news clips, here and there, about the worsening situation in Africa. I remember they shut down flights going in and out of the country. I also remember the restriction on flu vaccines in the Americas. But they fixed it, didn’t they? They lifted the vaccine restriction in January.
“...they started seeing flare ups in the States mid-February,” I hear the old man say.
There were news reports of a deadly flu season. Several hundred people had succumbed to the illness. The local hospital put a ban on visitors. The city schools shut down for a week in March after five children died. But, now it’s May...I thought the worst was behind us.
“...homeschools and shut-ins. They weren’t monitoring those. That’s how it spread.”
Aiden sits down on the cot beside me. “You good?”
I gesture toward the old man. “We made a new friend.”
Aiden looks at the man. “Who? Earl?”
“You know his name?”
“Sure. I see him out sometimes...walking, listening...just like I do. He’s got good information.”
“Any good news for us today?” I ask him.
“Yeah, we’re still alive.”
May 28, 2019
Aiden shakes me awake.
“Get up. Now. We’re leaving,” he whispers.
I blink the sleep from my eyes. I’m confused. Disoriented. “Wh..? What’s happening?”
He looks around to make sure no one is watching or listening. “We’re leaving. I heard some of the guards talking. They’re going to sanitize the shelter. At first light.”
“Sanitize?”
“They’re going to kill everyone, Allyson. They believe we’re all contaminated. So, get up.”
“Do you think we are?” I ask, sitting up. I slip my shoes on and pull my hair back into a ponytail.
&n
bsp; “I think they’re scared. Following orders, maybe.” He shakes his head. “But no, I don’t think we’re contaminated.”
“What about her?” I ask, gesturing toward the woman sleeping beside me.
“She’s already dead. Leave her.”
“Aiden, I…”
“They’re not letting anyone leave. The two of us can maybe make it out without a scene...three would be a stretch. It’s you and me...remember?” he asks, looking into my eyes.
I nod and follow Aiden out of the sleeping quarters. We can’t take anything with us. Luggage would make us look suspicious. If someone stops us, we’re going to pretend we’re taking a trip to the bathroom. That’s the plan.
Beyond that, we have no plan.
The shelter is large and vacuous. Our steps echo in the silence, or what constitutes silence these days; a sniffle here, a moan there. I don’t look at any of the sleeping faces as we pass. If Aiden is right, they’ll all be dead tomorrow. The fact that I can’t warn them of their impending doom weighs on me like a heavy stone. Out of the main chamber, we stop at a bend in the hallway, checking first left then right.
“Okay, it’s clear. Come on,” he says, tugging on my hand.
“Where are we going?”
“Far away from here. Other than that, I’m not sure.”
“Walking?” I ask.
“No. Too dangerous.” He glances at me. “Let’s get out of here first, okay? We’ll worry about what’s next after that.”
We reach the nearest emergency exit and stop. My heart is racing. I can’t believe it’s not guarded. Maybe they didn’t think anyone would be crazy enough to want to leave. After all, it’s a living nightmare outside. Who would want to go out into that?
“Once we leave, there’s no turning back,” Aiden warns. “And we have to move fast. This will trigger the emergency alarms. They might come after us.”
“Why?”
Revenants Series (Book 2): Remnants Page 18