Apokalypsis Book One

by Kate Morris

  “Talk to me, Jane,” her grandmother implored. “Tell me everything, and then tell me what you think about it.”

  The spoke for over an hour about the situation, and Jane gave over her opinion freely because she trusted her grandmother not to ridicule her. She wished Roman were so lucky to have someone to confide in. When she was finished, her grandmother nodded and sipped her tea.

  “I wish I could get ahold of Dad,” Jane said with longing.

  Nana Peaches looked at her and said, “Jane, there’s going to come a time in your life when you can’t rely on anyone but yourself. We may be closing in on that time. You need to learn to stand on your own two feet. I didn’t raise you to be weak. Neither did your mother. What if you can’t get ahold of your father? What if I’m not around to help you? What are you going to do? How will you handle taking care of yourself?”

  Her grandmother’s words made her stomach do flips. She didn’t want to think about anything like that.

  “I expect you to do the same thing you’ve been doing for the last four years in that hell hole of a high school,” she remarked, causing Jane’s eyes to jump to hers. “Yes, I know. I know what it’s been like for you. You think I don’t? I’m not blind, Jane, just old. These snot-nosed brats in this community and their parents like Mae Lockwood think they are above us. I know this. I see them. I’ve lived here almost my whole life. I’ve felt the blade of their knives in my back. I learned who I could trust. I hear their silly whispers and biased accusations. Let them.”

  She tipped her head to the side and regarded her grandmother with keen attention. The wind outside positively howled, and she wrapped her gray cardigan tighter around her middle.

  “Jane, let them,” she repeated. “I raised you to be a survivor. Not some helpless female.”

  She wasn’t so sure where her grandmother got the idea that she was some tough, super feminist. Most days she tried to avoid bullies, ate lunch with one friend, and spent the rest of it in a barn talking to horses. On the two days of the week when she actually interacted with people, Jane worked at the restaurant. Those were her only other friends on this earth, adult co-workers with lives and families of their own.

  “You survive the same way you have the last four years in high school. Keep your head down. Avoid trouble. Steer clear of danger.”

  Her eyes met her grandmother’s again. This time she wondered if Nana Peaches had sewn spy gear into the lining of her backpack. How had her grandmother known? Was she that obvious?

  “What do we do, Nana?”

  She relaxed back into her recliner, pulled her shawl over her shoulders and casually took a drink of her hot tea, which Jane had refilled for her. “We wait. We’ll wait it out here and see. If the government can gain control of this situation, then we’ll be fine. If not and school doesn’t resume, I’ll probably pack you off to live with your father.”

  “Wait, what would you do? Stay here by yourself?”

  “Like you, Jane, I’m a survivor. Yes, I’ll ride out the storm here until it’s passed. Then I’ll send for you again.”

  She didn’t argue, although every part of her wanted to. There was no way her grandmother could stay here by herself. The thought of Nana Peaches on her own, in this house taking care of the orchard and herself without anyone to help bothered Jane. There was no way she’d go along with that. If Nana Peaches was staying, so was she.

  They moved so fast it was unnerving. He had a hard time imagining being able to outrun one. He didn’t understand why they were faster, but they were. Doctors were theorizing it had something to do with the fevers, but that just didn’t make any sense to him.

  Sitting in the rafters of the abandoned building, he could observe them below him undetected as they did what he could only describe as hunt. Many times, he’d seen them on the prowl, slinking around the city at night as he watched from a position high on a rooftop where he was safe, protected. For some reason, he wanted to know more about them. Studying one’s enemy was the only sure way of knowing how to defeat them. He always came alone, never with anyone else. It was safer that way. He just had to know everything he could about them without the cost of more innocent lives. He was in danger but bringing others with him could cause them to be hurt. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if that happened again. Losing the others was already something he couldn’t live with.

  Chapter Eighteen

  He was going out of his mind. It had been six days since the meeting at his house, and he hadn’t spoken to Jane since.

  “What about Connor?” he asked. “Do you even care what happens to him? I told you the other day not to send him to school, and you still did. He’s just a kid. He can’t make decisions for himself.”

  “Roman, don’t talk to me like that!” his mother trumpeted. “I’m going to be late.”

  “Why are you even going?” he asked, clipping each word with anger. “You could bring the virus back with you! You could get sick. This is so stupid.”

  “It’s my job, my company, my responsibility,” she returned with equal hostility. “You wouldn’t understand because you don’t have a career yet.”

  “Mom, seriously,” he said. “Why are you flying all the way to San Diego knowing what’s going on with this virus? This doesn’t even make sense.”

  “Oh, hush,” she said and pulled on her high heels. “You sound just like your father. Both of you are being paranoid. I need to work. There’s nothing going on out there that I haven’t already been exposed to. I probably have the immunity you were talking about. And, besides, someone needs to work until your father’s company gets rolling again. Who’s going to pay the bills?”

  “Who cares?” he rebelled and followed her from the master suite. “Who cares about a mortgage right now?”

  “Your father and I care,” she said. “And at the rate the stock market keeps nose-diving every day, someone needs to keep bringing in money.”

  “Mom, don’t you see? The stock market is crashing because of the virus. They just said last night that the virus has spread to thirty-seven states now.”

  “Roman, stop being so paranoid. If I get sick, I’ll get over it. I’m tough. I’ve had many flu viruses in my lifetime. Then I’ll have my own immune system to fight it if it comes around again.”

  “That’s not how this one works,” he ground out and followed her through the kitchen.

  “I gotta go!” she said impatiently.

  “At least take the damn mask and wear it, especially on the flight,” he implored angrily.

  “Fine, I’ll wear it on my flight,” she said.

  “And on the flight back,” he begged, not caring if he sounded paranoid and stupid.

  “Yes, both flights,” she said and grabbed him for a quick hug. “I love you. Look after Connor and your father.”

  She fled out the door, and he was left standing there watching her go and thinking how reckless she was being just for money. He never wanted to be like that. He’d never risk Connor’s life by being careless.

  Connor waved to him from the back seat of his father’s BMW. He waved back to his little brother as they drove away. They were both driving her up to the airport to drop her off. It was already afternoon, so they wouldn’t make it back until late.

  Roman waited until they were gone. Then he ran upstairs and grabbed a quick shower. Brian’s father called earlier to say that he’d slipped into a coma. The doctors were not expecting a recovery and were not allowing them to see him. Destiny was out of her mind with sadness. Although they’d only just started dating, Roman knew they really liked each other, probably had for a long time before actually going out.

  Destiny’s father returned yesterday from his trip, and Dez and her mother told him everything. She was relieved when her father confessed that he’d heard much the same from a co-worker and that he would not be taking any more trips until things cleared up.

  Roman had to see Jane, make sure she and her grandmother were doing all right. He dressed in a hu
rry, spied out his window, and didn’t see her. He did spot her grandmother, however, in the apple orchard. He wasn’t sure how Peaches felt about him, but Roman couldn’t stay away from Jane. His mother had forbidden him to see her again, but the moment she’d said it, he knew he wouldn’t obey. Their truck was gone, so she was probably at the barn.

  Roman hurried to his vehicle and drove to the barn, except she wasn’t there, either, and hadn’t been yet today. He sent her a text just like the hundred others he’d sent the last six days and got the same response. Nothing.

  He drove to the restaurant, which was closed, a sign tacked to the front door stating it was closed due to illness. Roman backed away feeling frustrated. Where else could she be? He drove back home and waited a while. Pacing back in forth in his bedroom, Roman spent his time watching out his window for her truck to pull into her drive and surfing the internet for more information. He’d called Terry last night and got some tips on digging deeper. His friend was a real hacker and told Roman where to find buried stories in the archives of the internet in places nobody else would know to look. Then he told Roman that he and his dad were leaving town to go north into Michigan to his father’s family’s hunting land, a two-hundred-acre piece of remote property. Roman wished him good luck and safe journeys. He liked Terry a lot and genuinely hoped they’d make it.

  He found a doctor giving a podcast, and Roman almost believed it was the same one who’d been taken into custody. He was wearing a mask to conceal his face, but he sure sounded like that man. He was putting out numbers and facts and statistics so fast that Roman paused the video to take notes. They were estimating the worldwide death toll now at over one point six million and counting. No wonder they were burning bodies at the hospital. The doctor even addressed that. According to him, most viruses died when the host body died, as well. Not with RF2. He said that the only way to ensure that the virus was truly dead was to burn the bodies. Another video stated that the death toll just in Africa alone was over a million. How was this happening so fast?

  His peripheral vision caught movement, and Roman looked up. She was back. He sent her a text that she ignored again.

  “Dammit, Jane!”

  Roman went downstairs, out the back door, and scaled the wall. Enough was enough. He didn’t care if his mother didn’t want him to see her anymore. That wasn’t happening. If her grandmother felt the same, then he’d stay away until the school year was out. But that wasn’t going to force him to completely let go of her, either. He still wanted to make sure she was safe. She wasn’t a child. They were both eighteen, or was she? It didn’t matter. He jogged across the pasture to her house and saw her and Peaches carrying items from the back of the truck into their small house.

  Once he saw Peaches, his bravado faded just slightly, “Hello, Mrs. Barnes.”

  “Hello, Roman,” she greeted without malice. Then she turned around and called through the open door, “Jane, you have a visitor.”

  “Can I help?” he offered and took a crate from the back of the truck. “What is all this?”

  “Just a few extra groceries,” she answered.

  It was more than a few extras. There were probably twelve crates full of canned goods, paper products, and white wrapped packages from the butcher shop. Other boxes contained bags of potatoes and fresh vegetables that looked like they came straight from a garden and were still covered in dirt.

  At his questioning look, Peaches said, “We have more than enough apples to last the year. I traded for some things we might need.”

  “Oh, do you always do this?”

  “No, Roman,” she answered in a more serious tone.

  Jane came out of the house wearing work gloves and had her hair pulled back into a ponytail. The cold wind must’ve whipped her cheeks today because they were a dark pink.

  “Roman! What are you doing here?” she asked with surprise.

  “I needed to see you,” he answered. “I found out more information. I thought you might want to know.”

  She looked at her grandmother with concerned eyes and chewed the inside of her cheek. He wasn’t sure, but it seemed like she was trying to figure out what her grandmother thought of his being there.

  “Have you had dinner yet, Roman?” Peaches asked.

  He lowered his gaze to the ground, completely humbled by her kindness, “No, ma’am.”

  “Would you like to stay and have dinner with us?”

  “I don’t want to intrude,” he said.

  She chuckled. “Of course, you do. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To see my Jane?”

  He nodded and answered, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then stay for dinner.”

  “Sure, that would be great. I’m really grateful, Mrs. Barnes.”

  She turned and left but said over her shoulder, “Miss Barnes. And good. You can show your gratitude by carrying in the rest of those boxes for me.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he called out.

  Jane went around to the back of the truck to slide another box out. Roman quickly and quietly asked her, “Why haven’t you answered my texts?”

  “Roman,” she said with a fatigued sigh, “I just think we should cool it. I mean, your mother obviously doesn’t like me, and…”

  “I don’t give a shit what she thinks,” he lashed out, causing her to jump. “Sorry. I’m not mad at you. I’m just pissed. I don’t give a crap what my mother thinks. You should know that by now. She’s not even home. My dad just drove her to the damn airport again. She’s taking another business trip if you can believe that bunch of horse shit.”

  “She’s still your mother, Roman,” she reminded him and hefted a box. He took it from her and slid a lighter one toward Jane.

  “It doesn’t matter. We’re in this together. I’m eighteen years old. I hardly need my mother’s approval.”

  She shook her head as if she didn’t believe this. Of course, she wouldn’t. Jane was a good girl. She followed the rules and didn’t lie.

  She wouldn’t talk to him about it anymore, and he insisted that she stay inside and warm up while he finished unloading their truck. When he finished, he shut the tailgate and joined them in their house, the mysterious house he’d been so curious about for so long. Jane was already hauling the crates and boxes to the basement, so he joined her. When they had the final two taken down, he grabbed her forearm gently to stop her from going back up. Their basement had a hand-poured, uneven concrete floor and a low ceiling. He had to stoop in places being six feet three inches tall. It was also one of the reasons he could never look her in the eye. Roman wasn’t sure how tall she was, but Jane couldn’t be much more than five-two. His mother was five-four, and she seemed taller than Jane.

  Where they’d stored the boxes and crates was a dirt floor in a room that was closed off with a rickety door. It was cold in there, and she’d explained it would keep the vegetables all winter. He noticed it was also where her grandmother stored her many crates of apples.

  “Jane, wait,” he started. “I’ve been worried about you.”

  Roman released her arm and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. It was so good to see her. She looked healthy.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “I’m not sick.” She pulled a mask from her jeans pocket. “See? Whenever I go out, I use one now.”

  “Good, that’s good,” he said with a nod and rested a hand on the outside of her shoulder.

  He took a chance and stepped toward her. Jane looked up at him with startled pale eyes. Roman leaned down and kissed her forehead. Then he slid his hands through her waist and around back and pulled her up against him, giving her a hug. After a few moments, she returned it.

  “I missed you,” he said and allowed himself to inhale. She smelled clean like shampoo and fruit or something else sweet. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay, too,” she said quietly and was close to resting her cheek against the middle of his chest.

  “Jane!” her grandmother called
from the floor above. “Dinner’s about ready. Just leave all that. We’ll organize it later.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she said and instantly broke away from Roman. “We’re coming.”

  He followed her up the stairs and into the kitchen where they shared the sink to wash their hands. Then he helped her set the table for the three of them while her grandmother placed a baking dish of lasagna on the table on a ceramic trivet. Jane brought garlic bread to the table, and he collected the three bowls of salad from the counter. It was a fine feast, and he complimented Miss Barnes many times on the meal. She was a great cook.

  “So, Mr. Lockwood, what have you managed to sleuth since last we spoke?”

  He smiled. She had a funny way of talking.

  “Did you hear about Brian?”

  Jane nodded. “That’s Dez’s boyfriend, Nana. Yeah, I hope he gets better. Al, the bartender from the restaurant, died. I heard from a co-worker. Mr. Contuccini and his wife aren’t any better yet, either.”

  He nodded gravely. “I heard Aaron’s got it now, too. They think he contracted it that night from Caleb or his sister.”

  “What about you? You were really wrestling around on the ground with him. I would think you would have it, too.”

  “I spent most of my night with you,” he explained what he had theorized. “Aaron and Caleb were hanging out playing video games for a while before the dance. I think that’s probably why he caught it.”

  “Oh,” she whispered. “I’m glad you’re not sick. What about your family?”

  He shook his head. “Nobody yet.”

  “I heard that Mrs. Somers, our English teacher, has it now, too.”

  He didn’t know this yet. “Wow, that sucks. I really like her.”

  “The military- or government people or whoever they are- are taking over the high school football field. They’ve already got tents up and cots inside. Dez told me this morning. They’ve brought in FEMA workers and healthcare workers.”

  “Interesting,” Peaches commented. “My friend Dot takes water aerobics down at the rec center on Wednesdays, and she heard that one of your classmate’s mother has it. I can’t remember her name. Stephanie something or other.”