by Maira Dawn
Skye took one, then two shallow, beautiful breaths.
I might make it a little longer.
Skye sat on her knees in the cold, phlegmy water. Her head bent to the arm which draped over the edge of the old-fashioned tub. She wanted so much to get out of that bath, but she hadn't a single shred of power left to do so. So, she lay there.
After a time, Skye gathered enough energy to haul herself out of the tub and pull the drain. She refilled it with clean water and bathed the sickness off of herself.
All her strength sapped, she wrapped a towel around her body and tottered to the couch. She downed one of the three glasses of water left sitting on the coffee table. She laid down, pulled a blanket over herself, and in an instant, fell into a deep sleep.
This time Skye woke up, birds were singing. She smiled. The melodic whistles had never sounded as sweet as they did today.
Her good spirits shattered when she sat up and gagged again. Skye grabbed a planter sitting within arm's reach. She dumped the plant onto the coffee table and coughed some remaining phlegm into the container.
Still fatigued, the rest of the day she spent between bouts of choking thick saliva and sleeping. But she was alive. Alive! Even in her weakened state, Skye glowed, wanting to shout and scream for joy. Tears of appreciation came to her eyes.
Maybe she was one of the fortunate few with a second chance. Those so rare, they were only rumors. She vowed that, from here on, she would help anyone she could.
Other than the uncomfortable and revolting way the phlegm broke up and left her body, it surprised her how quickly she felt better. It was as if the disease, deciding it could not beat her, had slunk away like a frustrated cat.
Skye dozed on the couch most of the day in silence until the television blared at her when the electric kicked on. Sure the hallucinations had started again, she stared at the TV in disbelief when the reporter told the story of the Atlantis Cure. Really? Where is this cure than? Skye snapped it off. After falling to sleep a second time, she woke around dinnertime and almost felt like herself.
That night she slept more sound than she had in a long time. When Skye opened her eyes, she drew in the deepest breath she could and felt the elation of lungs filled with air. She had only a slight cough, and her fever was still down.
Skye quickly checked her lips, fingers, and toes for any sign of blue and found none. The tight band of anxiety and fear that had been wrapped around her chest for a while loosened.
When Skye woke the next morning, she was astonished to find she was healthy. It was only then Skye let herself feel it. That lightness, that indescribable joy that comes over a person when the absolute impossible has suddenly become possible.
With a grin from ear to ear, Skye skipped through the kitchen. After pulling out all her best food, she ate a huge breakfast. The first real solids she'd swallowed in days, she shoved the meal in as fast as she could. Then she picked up her iPhone and turned on her music.
And she danced.
Sixteen
Up to Me
Skye hummed a jaunty tune while cooking spaghetti on her orange camp stove for lunch that evening. When the phone rang, she startled. It was such a rare sound nowadays. Service had become spotty enough that when one of them worked it almost seemed surprising. She raced to the phone and answered.
"Hello!" Tricia said, the relief in her voice apparent.
"Hi back!" Skye almost bounced in happiness as she turned off the gas to the cooker.
"Oh my Lord, Skye, I'm so grateful to hear your voice! We all been callin and callin you and there ain’t been an answer! What've you been doing?" Tricia started out anxious but ended on an angry note.
Skye had a vague recollection of the phone ringing when she had been in the throes of her feverish delirium. She hurried to reassure Tricia. "I'm fine, don't worry. Really, I am. I was..." Her voice trailed off as she raised a hand to her cheek. "Well, you won't believe this, but I was Sick. I got over it though, like, actually over it! I am totally fine now."
"Skye," Tricia whispered, "No."
"I'm fine, Tricia! I am."
Tricia was quiet for a moment before saying, "How can that be?"
"Well, I'm not sure, but I am. And there has to be more than me, and I wonder how many. Two days before I got ill, I drove to Fenton for my final appointments and groceries." When Tricia uttered an exasperated sigh, Skye ignored it and told Tricia everything she'd learned at the hospital, and her frightening experience on the street outside her office.
"Oh, Skye! I can't believe what happened! You should've called us."
"Well, I got home fine, and when I got sick, there was nothing to do. I didn't want you or Tom to come over here and become exposed," Skye said. "Please understand that I couldn't have that on me."
"No more going into the city! Ya hear me?" Tricia scolded Skye. "And I'm sending Tom around to make sure you're okay."
"I totally agree! No more Fenton for me. It's a whole different place right now." Skye shuddered as she remembered the empty buildings, and the streets deserted of almost everyone but the Infected. "And it isn't necessary, but it would be nice to see Tom." Skye asked Tricia how some of their friends in town were doing before inquiring if she had any news of Jesse.
Tricia reluctantly spoke. "Well, that's one thing I called about. Mom saw him the other day roamin the woods at her place. She tried to get him to sit a spell and have some pie, but he wouldn't. Wouldn't even get up close to her, she said. It's not like him. Not with them, it's not. She saw marks though. Near as she could tell, Frankie's been beatin on him pretty hard."
Skye felt the color drain from her face, and she drew her lip between her teeth. She sank onto the marble countertop, propping her elbows on it and scraping her hair back with one hand. No! No, no, no, no!
This was the news she’d feared. She imagined the fear on Jesse's dirty little face as he peeked out from behind the trees not knowing where to go. She thought of her list of regular support systems before, one by one, discarding them as useless.
Skye tapped her lips with her forefinger then covered her mouth with her hand. Who is available to help? All the offices are closed. And if by some miracle, I reach someone, and they get him, where will they put him? Somewhere he will be exposed to the AgFlu?
"Skye?" Tricia said, reminding her she was still on the phone.
"Oh, Tricia, what are we going to do?"
"Well, mom’s gonna be lookin out for him. If he comes around again, she'll try and get him to come into the house. If he does, Dad will bring him here, and Tom will get help for him. Dad's aching to go on over there, but we're worried Frankie’d be, well... too much for Dad to handle. You know how he gets."
Skye hated to turn down anyone willing to help Jesse, but she agreed that a drunk Frankie was often dangerous. In a bad mood, he could easily overtake Tricia's dad. Her brows creased. "Why can't Tom get him?"
Sympathy and worry filled Tricia’s voice. "It's a fair ways out there. He's been working almost 20 hours a day and can't keep up as it is. He hardly lays his head down at night anymore. Things are crazy, just insane, and he needs to care for the worse cases first. I'm sorry, Skye."
Skye nodded. Her cousin always did his best, and if even half the news was true, she wondered how Tom was getting any sleep at all. But where does that leave Jesse?
Tricia continued, "Tom agrees what's happening to Jesse is bad, but he has to prioritize, and it's not life and death. Tom doesn't like it, but he has to. He says if he gets any kind of time, he's gonna head straight over there."
"That may not be enough. And I disagree, I think it is life and death." Skye's voice hardened as she tapped one painted fingernail on the countertop.
"Skye, don't be gettin any wild ideas. That ain’t like you. Let the system handle this. It's there for a reason, you always say."
"True, Tricia," Skye said. She wished it was like her. "But even on a good day, I had to babysit the system, and these aren't good days. The system is gone."
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Tricia continued to throw out objections. "Frankie's dangerous. Remember that fight he got into a few months ago? The other guy was a mess."
"That's exactly my point. Jesse can't hold his own against him. The boy needs to be removed now."
"Jesse's gettin beat on, and there's no doubt it needs to stop. But Frankie is gonna hurt someone else more than his own kid."
"Tricia, you're assuming he's a normal father with normal fatherly instincts. He is not. Especially when he's drinking." Skye walked to the large window beside her dining room table and looked out on the empty street.
"I understand what he is. I was raised up with him."
"You know a part of him. And I know a different part. I treat what is left of his child." Skye set her hand on her hip. She would allow no argument on this point.
"Please, Skye, don't make me sorry I told you this. I reckoned if you saw Jesse wandering around town, you could, ya know, keep him at your house."
"No, don't be sorry." Skye’s gaze strayed from one house to another, most of which were showing signs of abandonment. "It's just there's no one. Jesse has no one. I'm the closest person he has that can help him. And believe me, he hasn't let me all that close. He's so guarded, it's like he's in a dark cave, and he swipes out at anyone coming toward him. Jesse won't reach out for help. He wouldn't even grasp how to do that." Skye let out a long sigh. "I'll watch for him. Please tell me if anyone sees him again."
The women said goodbye, promising to call the next day again if their phones had a signal.
Skye tried to put Jesse out of her mind, but as the day wore on, she became more and more agitated. She tried reading, using her bit of remaining battery on her iPad to watch a downloaded Friends, and even resorted to cleaning but nothing worked. Her thoughts kept wandering back to Jesse and Frankie.
All her other kids had someone to turn to when the mistreatment became worse, somewhere they went to get a break from the intense pressure of living with an abuser. But not Jesse. He was a child, alone, with no way out. Skye was that person for him, the person he could talk to when he wanted, the person who helped him see things could be better. Now, when his life had improved for possibly the first time, Jesse was lost again, this time with no hope of rescue.
How am I supposed to just sit here knowing what is going on in that household? The boy needs help. He needs me. Who else will stop what is happening to Jesse?
Thoughts rolled through her head. Anna Lynn telling her the world would never be the same. Estimates that seventy to eighty percent of the population would be dead within the year. That Tom couldn't make it to Jesse. Frankie's past violence, even against his own son.
There was no longer any structure to take care of these kinds of problems, and who knew when it would be in place again.
In an unthinkable world, you can do unthinkable things.
The thought flashed through Skye’s mind almost like a neon sign. It both terrified and exhilarated her, but she closed her eyes against it. Still, it wouldn't go away. Unlike others, she could use the lack of structure for good.
Skye shook her head. Never before would such an idea have formed to a solid conclusion. To illegally take someone's kid, even from someone like Frankie.
But now... with things the way they are… it leaves it up to us. Up to me. Can I do this? Skye looked at her pampered hands and her designer jeans and t-shirt. She scoffed at her anxiety-ridden self. I'm hardly the savior type. But I’ve got to, I’m all Jesse’s got.
Frankie had been given every chance. He had proven what kind of man, what kind of father he is, a long time ago. He was not a man to raise a child—even if that child was his.
Skye looked at her shaking hands. Her bracelets lightly chimed as they tapped against each other. Are you actually talking yourself into this?
Jesse isn't safe with him, Frankie will go too far one day, and in a drunken rage, kill him. No one may notice one small disappeared ten-year-old boy with all the chaos going on. And if they did, all Frankie would have to say is he got Sick. Who would question him?
The unthinkable was no longer so unlikely, but plausible, even reasonable.
Skye squared her shoulders. It was time to save Jesse.
Seventeen
Way Too Much
Known for making calm and deliberate decisions, Skye now decided to do something that was neither of those things. But once she’d made up her mind, her rational manner took over. For success, a plan was required, and she took her time to devise it.
The best course of action was to leave the area once she rescued Jesse. She didn't want a vengeful Frankie searching her out. Leaving her home meant packing. Skye walked the house choosing what she needed, and wanted, to take with her.
She packed up all her jewelry in a large, black travel case. Skye added her extra cash too, then decided she shouldn't keep all her treasures in one place and moved her money to a small bag that held her tablet, a couple of books, and a notebook. She took that out to her jeep.
As she walked back through the living room, the electricity came on, and the room sprang to life. Lights flashed on and off, then back on again before they settled. The radio flickered and steadied then its sound strengthened. Earlier, Skye had dialed into local news, and now someone was reporting. She stopped and leaned a jean-covered hip against her couch to listen.
The AgFlu had infected the regular DJ at the start of the outbreak. Since then, whoever passed by the station would step into the box, state their name and whatever information they wanted to share. Unfortunately, the news most often consisted of the number of the Sick and a list of those who died. But Skye forced herself to listen, crossing her arms over her green, short-sleeved t-shirt. At least, I'll know what happened to my neighbors even if it is the worst. And perhaps they'll announce the delivery of food. Then I could pick some items up on my way out of town.
A familiar voice said, "Uh, this is Bill Riley from Riley Funeral Services here. And I, uh, been over to the feed store. Bob and Alvie was over there. This is the news we have." He listed names of Sick families. If one person in a family had the AgFlu, everyone assumed they all would have it soon.
Skye wiped a tear away as Bill finished his list. "The amount of Sick slowed for a while, but it seems to have picked back up."
Oh, no!
Then, his voice cracking with sorrow, he moved on to the long list of townspeople who had passed away. "Remember to stay in. Tend to your sick. And if they pass, bring 'em down to the square. We'll say a few words for them with you. We'll take care of them the best we can." The dead piled up so fast now that burials were no longer an option. It was safer and quicker to cremate those lost to the disease.
Skye’s tears continued as Bill paused then cleared his throat before starting again, "We also got word from Fenton that police are now estimating an eighty percent death toll. So, uh, stay outta the city. We’re safer here, folks. Let you know when we've got more news."
The word is out. Skye shook her head. But are we safer here?
After hearing the considerable list of friends and neighbors that were no longer alive, Skye doubted it. Last night, she had stood on the sidewalk, looking for someone, anyone, but the streets were empty.
The lights from a few lanterns had shown through some neighbor's homes, but there was no laughter or squeals of play from the children. The wind stirring the trees was the only noise she heard no matter how hard she strained her ears. She realized for the first time what a lonely sound it could be.
Skye tightened her crossed arms as she recalled the names Bill read on the radio. Her hairdresser, to whom she'd waved as she passed her salon almost every day on her way to work. The local baker who always had tea and a bit of gossip for Skye when she picked up a loaf of fresh bread. The postmaster, unfailingly quick to give a sharp warning for any postal infraction, but even faster with a joke and a smile. Then there were her caring neighbors, but those were too hard to think of yet.
This town wasn't like the other plac
es Skye had lived. Here, everyone was like an extended family, and each loss seemed personal.
It feels as if the whole world is dying.
Skye wiped her eyes a few times and let out a deep sigh before getting back to her job at hand. She went to the kitchen and leaned over the counter to add to her growing list. A plan was forming. She would get Jesse and go to her parents in Ohio.
It was where Skye wanted to be. Home is what she needed right now, and her mom and dad would be happy to have her and Jesse. They loved children, their care would help give Jesse normalcy and help heal him. Lord knows they've helped heal me in the past.
It is a good five-hour drive home, but if this town is any indication, the streets will be deserted. On the other hand, maybe everyone is trying to get somewhere else. I'll need to plan out two different routes and make sure Jesse can read a map in case we need to make a quick change in direction.
The roaming Sick didn't bother Skye too much. She had been passing them on her way into Fenton for some time now, and as long as she stayed away from them, she thought she would be fine. But those merely infected did. They were still fast and cunning. She shuddered at the thought of running into more groups of Infected that wanted to hurt her.
Five hours. It is only five hours. I'll stock up on water and snacks. We won't leave the car. We can make it, we have to. What other choice do we have?
Although Skye had her worries about traveling home, she couldn't stay here. It was too easy for Frankie to track her down. If he did that, she would have no hope of holding onto Jesse.
And even though the world had become unhinged, what she was doing was still illegal. For all she knew, Tom would have to get involved, and she didn't want that to happen.
But most of all, she wished this to last. She wanted Jesse to be safe. Somewhere no one could ever make him go back to his dad again.