by Maira Dawn
Next, the grinding, rattle of a glass bottle as it bumped across the uneven, wooden floor inside his house. Then silence.
In an instant, his whole body drew inward, an automatic gesture preparing him for what was to come. A roar of anger, the slurring words of a drunk father.
But there was nothing, no sound at all.
I hope he passed out.
Jesse debated running for it. Instead, he crept closer to the half-opened front door to see what he was in for if he came home at all today. If he was careful enough, he could peek through without being seen.
Almost there. One more step was all Jesse had left. Moving without a sound became his only thought. Quiet as he could, Jesse lifted his foot and set it down to the ground. At last, he was where he needed to be, at the beat-up front entry.
Inch by inch, Jesse tipped his head forward to peer around the corner. His mouth dropped open in surprise.
Is he... cleaning?
Jesse watched his dad load a garbage bag with stuff, junk really, from the floor. It was something he’d never seen him do.
Frankie turned and saw Jesse peeking through the door. He grimaced at the sight of his frightened son and rubbed his shirt sleeve over his misty eyes. "Quit skulkin around, boy. Come over here and help your old man out. We need to sort through this stuff and see what I should be keeping."
Jesse sagged against the door frame in relief. If he is callin me boy, instead of something else, he's in a good mood.
His father's request was every bit as surprising, if not more so, than his high spirits. Jesse had always thought of the floor junk as garbage. He’d never considered that someone might actually want to keep any of it.
The boy gave a ghost of a smile and headed over to help his father. As Jesse got close, Frankie reached out a hand and clamped it on Jesse's shoulder. Jesse froze and held his breath.
Frankie's voice broke when he said, "This kinda life isn't what I wanted for you, Jesse. I’m stayin off the liquor for sure this time.
Jesse looked at the floor and nodded his head hoping for the best. But at least today is good, a good day after all.
Chapter Twelve
The Sick
Skye ripped off her white surgical mask and threw it on her desk before her client was out the door. Two weeks now using these stupid masks for sessions, I hate them and so do the kids! Not that I have that many patients still coming to therapy anymore.
Even though the number of new Sick continued to slow, things got worse. People were out of control, Sick or not, with the police force stretched to its limits. Skye wondered if it would ever stop spinning out of control. She always put her trust in the system, told her kids to do so and their parents as well. Sure, it was flawed, but it was the best hope they had, the only hope really.
So that's what she'd been trying to do as the chaos raged around her. Believe the bulletins meant to calm the public, accept that things might get worse before they got better, and wait for a cure.
There was always a cure. There is a scare and then a cure, just in time. In movies and real life. How many times has the news warned its viewers about the latest medical alarm, only to have it end up being nothing? This one is taking longer, but it will be the same as the rest, I’m sure of it.
At least that's what she told herself when she wasn't worrying that most of what the Disease Control was spouting was propaganda. But just like the kids she treated, there was only one lifeboat in which to jump. She had jumped, and she was hanging on tight.
Still, Skye was dreading tomorrow's trip to her city office. Though there were more clients there, the hour commute to Fenton was getting more and more dangerous. On her last visit, the traffic appeared lighter than usual, but more of the Sick had been wandering along the highway.
She still wondered who was supposed to be taking care of them? It was hard to believe that things were broken to the point where disoriented patients were just walking around in this state.
A jolt had gone through her the first time she saw ill people meandering the streets. A quick call to 911 had reported their whereabouts so they would get help, but her sadness over the situation lingered.
This morning the traffic had zipped by the Sick, the near-misses making her gasp. When she dialed 911, she got a recorded message explaining their inability to help her. She hated that what was once a rare and startling sight had become commonplace, even she was getting used to it.
Last night's news told of a society in turmoil. Crowds held demonstrations for the Infected’s rights. They said it oppressed people to keep them in quarantine away from their family. Riots on the south side of the city started a ferocious fire that lit up the skies for over three days. Now that side of Fenton had disappeared.
The President had given broadcasts every night for over two weeks to help reassure the people. Now, he seemed to be gone. He hadn’t been seen by the media for at least four days. Was he ill?
On top of all that, there was a sharp uptick in assaults, robberies, and muggings. As if people didn't have enough to deal with.
Skye could feel herself getting wound tighter and tighter. She felt like this would be about more than the sickness. It was the beginning of something else, and she was desperately afraid of what that would be.
For now, she was taking one day at a time, hoping it would all turn around and be, if not the same as before, something like it.
Well, I am done today at 12:30. Yippee, Skye’s thoughts turned sarcastic. So many short workdays and friendless evenings made for some long stretches of time to fill. Reading and Netflixing her hours away should have been a dream come true. But when those were the only activities available it became old real quick, and now the blackouts started.
These rolling blackouts meant she needed to do everything when the power was on, no matter what time that was. So when the lights came on at 3 am, with bleary eyes, Skye woke to vacuum, do laundry, start the dishwasher and cook food. This was also the only time to plug-in all electrical devices so she could use them later. And if the electricity turned on when she was at work, she was flat-out of luck.
The lack of power put Skye on edge, not so much because of the inconvenience, but because it meant a massive employee absence. Many of the utility companies called on any healthy people able to come help during this crisis, and still there weren't enough workers to stop the blackouts.
Who will be left when this is all over?
Once home, Skye put her keys and purse on the hall table and stood for a minute soaking in the absolute silence around her. A silence that was becoming oppressive and eerie. Skye missed the usual squeals and giggles of neighborhood children playing. They were gone.
Today the only sound was the wind rushing through the trees and an occasional car passing by. The houses closest to Skye were empty. Some neighbors had gotten ill, and some had stopped by before they left town to stay with family until this was over.
Maybe I should just pack up and go to Mom and Dad's for a while. At least, I would have people around me. If this keeps up and I don't go to work... well, that would be very lonely.
It had been an ongoing topic between Skye and her parents. They wanted her with them, but the five-hour drive concerned them. Until today, Skye hadn't thought it possible because of her job. But now with her work ending, going to her parents was something she could do. She could phone the neighbors who were left and ask if any were making the trip up north, perhaps she could follow them.
Skye reminded herself to give her parents a call tonight and see how they were doing. She checked the battery on her cell. So far, the service had been much better than she expected, and she was grateful she could keep up with friends and family.
She headed to the kitchen and looked through the cupboards.
Nothing, not much and nada. Ugh! Which is pretty much what the stores have, but I should have stopped and checked if they had gotten any shipments in. And if any of it was left.
It had been harder to get food from the grocery
store. People snapped up whatever was available even if they didn't need it, and she was sure there were people out there with boatloads of food.
Whatever Skye managed to bring home seemed to go so quick even though she tried to watch. She opened the cupboard that held her emergency supplies.
Another night getting into this. It's slim pickings in here too. I'll check a store closer to the city, more supplies may have arrived in that area.
The idea frightened her. It was one thing driving through all that chaos and quite another to stop and hang out there.
Seven days, it has taken me to get up the courage to look for groceries. Seven days. But between avoiding anyone who looked ill and watching out for those causing trouble, shopping just wasn't what it used to be.
Tom had stopped the day after she was ill and given her two bags of food that Tricia had scraped together for her, getting Skye through a few more days. Tricia had also sent over some of her homemade biscuits, still warm from the oven. A blue and white handmade card sat by the dish. It said: "To everything, there is a season. We have to go through the bad days to get to the good ones. Hang in there!" Skye had almost lost it. Tears flooding her eyes and she wrote out a thank you note for Tom to take back to her. Skye joked with Tom that only Tricia could come up with an appropriate Thinking of You during the Apocalypse card.
Tom gave her all the stern obligatory cop warnings along with a few personal cautions he liked to throw in. Skye stood and listened with bowed head, nodding at all the right times. But he didn’t need to concern himself, this disaster was sinking in.
Every day brought news of work shutdowns, riots, robberies, and chaos. People were scared, and when people were frightened, especially with nothing to do, some of those people will do stupid things. Skye laughed to herself. I went to school for years to learn that little tidbit.
Skye had two last appointments in the city today. Then everything was on pause until the AgFlu was over. She wasn't concerned about the office itself. It had only been a few days since her last trip there, and the building had still been over half-full of workers.
The traffic was lighter than usual as Skye drove to Fenton. But when she arrived, the tall, windowed office building was quieter than she had expected.
Skye enjoyed the afternoon with her young clients. Once again, she assured them, when this was all over, they would start up their sessions again. In the meantime, she promised phone calls to those that wanted them.
With final appointments done and goodbyes to her kids said, Skye headed out of her office. As she walked to the elevator, the only sound was the sharp strike of her heels echoing off the shiny, beige floor and taupe hallway walls. It felt eerie. When Skye pushed the button for the elevator, goosebumps raised on her arm.
Images from news reports flashed through her mind. She looked to her right and left as far as she could in the shadowed hallway.
Nobody. Stop it! You are just scaring yourself over nothing.
She pushed the button again, thinking the elevator seemed to be creeping. At last, the doors creaked open. Have they always screeched like that?
Skye jumped into the elevator and pushed Floor 1. Then hit the Door Closed button over and over until they shut. As the elevator descended, she sagged against the back wall in relief.
Skye exited the elevators and burst out of the front door of the building, heading straight for her car. The usually busy street was almost deserted. Only a small group of people gathered at the end of the block.
Intent on her goal, she would have paid them no mind except for a movement she caught out of the corner of her eye.
Skye turned her head ever so slightly to see them better. They were behaving oddly. The men and women huddled together. It wasn’t normal. Most people kept their distance from one another nowadays.
They exchanged whispers, whispers she couldn't hear. They murmured as if worried someone would overhear, but no one was there to eavesdrop. Their behavior was strange, more than strange, it was bizarre.
The uneasiness that started in the hallway was building. Skye's stomach tensed and goosebumps again swept up her arm.
Skye glanced the group’s way just as one man looked over at her. He turned and said something to the group. All eyes shifted to her.
Her heart rate fired up as she gauged the distance to her car. Parked across the street. To the left. Toward the weird people on the corner.
Skye looked up and down the street again. No businesses were open. No one else was on the sidewalk, and no cars were coming. She was alone. A chill ran up her spine.
You're scaring yourself again. Over nothing. The group probably have a perfectly legitimate reason for being there. Weird people can have reasons too. It's more likely, they're wondering what I am doing here.
She took a deep breath, stepped onto the street, and with a brisk walk, started toward her car. One of them called out to her. She didn't make out what they said. Skye made the mistake of glancing at them again.
Great! Now I have to acknowledge them.
She gave a half smile and a nod but continued walking. A different one yelled saying, "Are you Infected?" Skye shook her head.
He started toward her.
Her eye's widened, and she almost yelped. Skye sped up and glance over her shoulder. None of them have a mask. That is weird. Everyone wears a—
Skye gasped. They are infected! The thought spurred her feet into action, and she fled to her car. Their steps pounded on the pavement behind her.
The leader shouted, "The world is dying, why should you get to live?"
A cold sweat burst over her body. Skye's heart hammered against her chest. She worked to haul in every breath.
As Skye closed in on her car, her gaze darted between it and her purse. "Please, please, please!" she muttered as she raced there.
Her hand plunged into her bag but came out empty. She tried again. Fingers grasped anything that remotely felt like keys only to push them aside again and again in frustration.
My keys are at the bottom of my purse! These people will infect me! I will die because I ignored every woman's safety video out there!
Frantic, she continued to grab for her keys while running, but the two actions were at odds with each other, and she slowed. The Sick were so close now she could hear them gasping for air. She realized, as her hand felt the thin cloth as it lay in her purse, she was not wearing her mask.
If they catch me, I'm dead. All they have to do is breathe on me!
She sped up, hope against hope that her fingers would land on the keys in time.
A sudden screech of tires grabbed Skye's attention. A woman shouted, "Get in!" As she looked over her shoulder, Skye saw an open car door.
Not taking any time to think about it, she lunged for the vehicle. Her body bounced on the hard seat as she landed. The Sick surrounded the car, clamoring around it.
Before they could get to the open door, Skye reached the door handle and pulled it shut.
Chapter Thirteen
A Goner
"Are you infected?" the woman screamed at Skye as she floored her vehicle. With adrenalin still pumping through her veins, Skye had trouble focusing and didn't respond for a moment.
"Are you infected?" the woman shouted again.
"No! No." Skye said as she brought a trembling hand up to brush a few hairs that had strayed near her eyes. She dug through her purse for an anxiety pill and popped it in her mouth. Then squirted a bit of sanitizer on her hands as a shiver ran through her at how close they had gotten to her.
The woman's eyes flashed at Skye. "Why aren't you wearing a mask?"
"I... No one was around. The building was empty. I didn't see them until it was too late," Skye said waving toward the Infected. "I should have had it on." She gripped her knees to stop her hands from quivering.
"I would've." The woman was blunt and angry. "You shouldn't be here. It's dangerous! I wouldn't be but, well... no choice. You'd be a goner without me." She took a deep breath to compo
se herself. "We've met before. At that medical convention, the city had a while back. I recognized you, or I'm not sure I would have stopped."
Skye nodded, then with a thready voice asked, "Why were they coming after me?"
"Some of those in the early infected stages are banding together. They call themselves Assassins. They can see their end, and they're bitter about it. They go after healthy people."
Skye's jaw dropped. "This is a thing now?"
"Yeah, it's a thing."
Skye's racing heart slowed some, but she still trembled. "I cannot thank you enough. I would've been dead, as good as dead if you hadn't stopped."
The woman's voice gentled as her temper cooled. "We healthy need to help each other now. If we don't, no one is gonna make it." She introduced herself. "Anna Lynn Fisher, ER Doc. We can come back later for your car."
Skye agreed and slipped on her white cloth mask. "How are things going at the hospital?"
Anna Lynn made a hard left into the emergency room parking lot, drove past the many parked cars and as close as she could to the ER doors, then turned off the car. She twisted toward Skye and gave her a hard look as if wondering how Skye would handle what she was about to see. "Well, we are in a mess of something or another, and it isn't good. Prepare yourself."
The hospital was far worse than Skye imagined. Anna Lynn told her that there were no Sick here. If someone became ill, a group moved them to the local high school a few blocks down the road. What little they could do for those with the AgFlu was there.
These people were those injured by the city's chaos. Frightened to be alone, or under medical care that was no longer available anywhere else, they had sought the best the city now offered. Still others had simply run out of food or had nowhere other than this to go.
The air in the building felt stagnant with a strong scent of sweaty bodies and dirty diapers. Though the hospital ran on emergency power, the air conditioner was not a priority and only turned on a few times a day. Skye looked around the room. Given the number of people in the lobby, it could be worse.