Seven Days: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel

by G. Michael Hopf

  ONE MILE SOUTH OF SANTA ROSA, NEW MEXICO

  Sleeping was near impossible for Reid though he did manage to get some. When he woke, he found himself still staring at the kitten poster, and his arms and legs were still bound to the table. The urge to urinate was intense, so much that he feared he would wet himself. “Hey!”

  Silence.

  “Hey, is anyone there?” he called out. Again he struggled with the bindings but found them impossible to get free from. “Hey, I need to piss.”

  Footfalls sounded in the hall outside.

  He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard them.

  The footfalls stopped at the door, but that was it. Whoever it was didn’t come into the room.

  “Hey, I know you’re there. I need to use the bathroom,” Reid barked.

  The footfalls continued on.

  “No, come back and let me use the bathroom. Show some damn humanity,” Reid hollered. His anger welled up inside. Using every ounce of strength, he pulled both his arms up. The veins in his neck, arms and forehead popped as he strained to pull loose. “C’mon, damn it,” he growled as he pulled.

  Pop, ping.

  The restraint on his right wrist broke free.

  Reid quickly went to work unbuckling his left wrist then his feet. Free of the restraints, he jumped off the table, turned, and found himself face-to-face with the muzzle of a pistol.

  “You’re not a patient man, are you?” Hillary smirked.

  “I need to see my daughter,” Reid exclaimed.

  The two squared off, neither saying a word for what seemed like an eternity.

  She flinched first and lowered the pistol. “I need you to trust that I’m helping your daughter.”

  “Can I see her?”

  She stepped out of the way and motioned with her hand to the doorway. “She’s at the end of the hallway.”

  He pushed past her and raced down the dimly lit hallway. At the end he found a single closed door. He opened it, and there, lying comfortably in a bed, was Hannah.

  She opened her eyes, which were still bloody, and said, “Daddy.”

  He raced to her side and embraced her. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. The woman has been nice. She gave me an IV and a pill yesterday and one today,” Hannah said.

  On a nightstand next to Hannah’s bed sat a cup of water, a syringe, alcohol pads, bandages, and a pair of curved surgical scissors. He snatched them up quickly and placed them in his pocket.

  Hillary suddenly appeared in the doorway. “She should start showing signs of improvement soon.”

  “What did you give her?” Reid asked.

  “It’s best you let her rest; that will give us time to talk,” Hillary said, her pistol tucked in her waistband.

  Reid caressed Hannah’s arm and asked, “Will you be okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she replied. “Tired, I feel real tired.”

  Reid turned to Hillary. “Is she tired from the virus or what you gave her?”

  “That is a symptom of the virus. She’s also developed the stomach rash,” Hillary said.

  He pulled back the sheet and lifted her shirt. There on her belly were the signature small red blisters.

  “Mr. Flynn, come, it’s best we let her go back to sleep,” Hillary said.

  He got up and said to Hannah, “I’ll just be outside.”

  “I’m going to sleep. I’m tired,” Hannah said.

  He gave her a smile and exited the room.

  Hillary closed the door, but before she did, she gave Hannah a quick wink. Facing Reid, she said, “I’m not here to harm her, but you should know what I gave her is experimental.”

  “Meaning?”

  “The worst case is it kills her.”

  “Kills her!” Reid exclaimed.

  “I don’t think it will, but she could have complications or unintentional side effects,” Hillary said. “I’ve never tested this batch yet.”

  Reid gave her an odd look and asked, “Is that why you took us?”

  “Can we go sit down in my office?” she asked and moved past him to a door on the left. She opened it and went inside. She took a seat on a cushioned chair and put her feet up on a desk.

  Reid followed. He passed a door on the right that was cracked open slightly and saw a young woman tied to a table like he had been. He was sure she was a prisoner like he was. He kept on and entered her office. “Tell me, is that why you took me and Hannah, so you can test this drug on us?”

  “I’m not proud of what I’ve done, but I’m doing it to save people, you must understand.”

  “What if she wasn’t sick? And that woman back there, is she being tested too?”

  “Mr. Flynn, it doesn’t make any sense to talk about this. She’s here, she’s been infected, and now I’ve given her a trial drug that might work.”

  “How long have you been doing this?” he asked as he hovered near the doorway.

  “Since I left the team, right before the outbreak,” she confessed.

  “You’ve been trying to find a cure since then?”

  “Yes.”

  “And nothing, of course,” he said.

  “We shall see if this works or not,” she said.

  A disturbed look spanned his face as something horrific dawned on him. “You’ve been doing this all this time, which means you’ve been testing on people, victims like me, but where are they?”

  “They’re dead, Mr. Flynn, is that what you wanted to hear so that you can look at me like I’m some kind of monster.”

  “Maybe you are, have you ever considered that? Kidnapping people and testing on them isn’t done by nice people,” Reid shot back.

  “Have you ever heard of the trolley problem?” Hillary asked.

  “What?”

  “The trolley problem was first proposed by British moral philosopher Philippa Foot in 1967 to a class at the University of Wisconsin. It goes like this: a runaway trolley is barreling down the tracks. There are five people tied to the tracks in front of it. You are standing next to a lever that controls a switch. If you pull the lever, the trolley is redirected onto a side track. Those five people on the main track will be saved. However, there is a single person lying on the side track. Your decision either dooms five to die…or one. What is your ethical responsibility? I know my answer.”

  Reid laughed.

  “You find this funny?”

  “I have heard about the trolley problem now that you describe it, but if you’ll recall, the moral dilemma goes further. What if that one person on that track is your child? Like you, I know my answer.”

  She pursed her lips and glared at him.

  “What if you’re wrong and this kills her?”

  “Then I’m sorry, but your daughter only had a ten percent chance of survival anyway,” she replied.

  “Not where I’m going,” he shot back.

  “And where’s that?”

  He was about to tell her but stopped short. “I hear there’s a cure out west in California. I’m heading there.”

  She chuckled.

  “What?”

  “You bought into those rumors?”

  “I don’t have a choice. I need to keep moving, so if you’re done testing on my daughter, I need to get back on the road,” he said.

  She leaned forward, placed her elbows on the table, and said, “I’m sorry, but she needs to stay here so I can see how this works…or not.”

  “No, ’cause if you’re wrong, I need to find them,” he said.

  “There is not a them anywhere. Just who do you think has created a cure? Huh?”

  “The government has a research facility. They’re working on it now.”

  She shook her head. “There is no such place; those are all rumors. Your best shot is staying here with me.”

  “No, there is a place and I’m going there,” Reid snapped.

  “Where is this so-called place?” Hillary asked. “Give me the name of a place and I’ll tell you if it exists.“


  “There’s a facility on one of the Channel Islands,” Reid answered.

  “You’re talking about the labs run by the Department of Homeland Security? If there was anyone, they’re long since gone.”

  “You don’t know that,” Reid shot back.

  “I know that you’re going to be disappointed. I ran into a gentleman from there a few years back. He said the facility had been overrun.”

  “You’re just saying that to keep me here. I’m going, period,” Reid barked.

  She pulled the revolver from her waistband and set it on the desk. “Please don’t make me force you, again.”

  Marvin suddenly appeared behind Reid, a bat in his hand. “Hello, mister.”

  “What you’re doing is wrong, you’re risking her life for your experiment.”

  “You should be so lucky that I’m not testing you. I thought I had two to work on, but after taking your blood, I found antibodies. You’ve had the virus before and lived, didn’t you?”

  He stepped towards her desk.

  She raised the pistol and said, “She stays here.”

  “Please let me take her. I’ll come back and tell you if it worked or not, I swear it,” Reid pleaded.

  She looked past him towards Marvin and ordered, “Take him to room four. Give him some food then lock him in.”

  “We have the girl in room four,” Marvin replied.

  “Then room three, just put him in a room, Marvin!” Hillary barked.

  “Don’t do this,” Reid snapped.

  “I don’t like this any more than you do, but this is science. I need to see how she reacts to the drug.”

  He lunged at her.

  Hillary scooted back, just missing his grasp.

  Marvin raced in, swung his bat, and struck Reid in the lower back.

  Reid howled in pain then dropped to his knees.

  Marvin pressed his attack. He put Reid in a choke hold and squeezed.

  “Don’t hurt him too much,” Hillary barked.

  The two men rolled around on the floor, with Reid kicking and thrashing in a vain attempt to break free from Marvin’s grasp.

  “Can I put him to sleep, Ma?” Marvin asked.

  “Go ahead,” Hillary replied.

  Marvin wrapped his left arm around the back of Reid’s head, in what’s called a rear naked choke hold, and squeezed more, his right forearm pressing against Reid’s throat.

  Using all his might to pry Marvin off, Reid wasn’t successful and passed out.

  FIVE MILES WEST OF LOGAN, NEW MEXICO

  The savory smell of eggs cooking wafted down the hall. Brienne picked up on it when she left the spare bedroom to go use the latrine. She passed through the kitchen to find a steaming cup of tea and a plate with two fried eggs sitting upon it but no one around. Her mouth watered when she gazed upon the food. She was tempted to pick up one of the eggs and devour it but decided against being a rude guest. Needing to use the latrine, she made her way outside.

  The late morning sun was up, and its rays felt good on her face. Having arrived during the evening, she hadn’t gotten a chance to see the farm. Now her eyes scanned the expansive land with its rolling hills and sparse outcroppings of trees. Large fields surrounded the house, but nothing was growing. She imagined at one time it had held crops. The large center pivot irrigation systems sat no doubt where they’d last run years before when the Longs had shuttered the commercial part of the farm.

  Down the yard she went. Much of the once green grass was gone, replaced by sporadic patches of dirt and dead grass. It was nice spending the night in a bed; it was something she hadn’t done in a long time. She could get used to it again but doubted the hospitality would last much longer considering the information she had divulged last night.

  She was reaching for the latrine door when it burst open and out stepped Michael.

  He sheepishly smiled and said, “Excuse me and good morning.”

  “Good morning,” she replied.

  Michael rushed off towards the house.

  Brienne turned and called out, “Were those your eggs I saw on the counter?”

  “No, they’re yours,” he answered.

  A smile broke out on her face. Freshly fried eggs would hit the spot, she thought.

  After using the latrine, she headed back to the house, her mind obsessed with the eggs. She could hardly wait to dig into the creamy yellow yolks. She prayed there was bread to spare to dip into it.

  Reaching the house, she again ran into Michael, who was now sitting on the front step of the porch. She stopped and said, “Where’s your mom?”

  “Still in her room.”

  “And your nana?”

  “Same.”

  She could see the melancholy expression on his face and thought it had to do with what she’d confessed last night. “Can I sit next to you?”

  “Don’t you want to eat your eggs?” he asked, his chin buried in the palms of his hands.

  “I’ll get them in a bit. You, though, I want to talk to now,” she said as she took a seat next to him.

  The second her butt hit the step, he scooted away from her a few inches.

  “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” she said.

  “I’m not,” he snapped.

  “Listen, I know what I said probably has you upset, and I can understand why.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me before?” he spat.

  His tone was harsh, but she was hard to offend. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think it mattered then. You already seemed upset and that would have made you worse. Plus I didn’t want you thinking about going back to seek revenge.”

  “You could have told me,” he said.

  “If I was wrong, I apologize,” she said. Long strands of her hair fell out from the thick rubber band she was using to hold it back in a ponytail.

  “I know I’m just a kid, but I’m not as weak as people think I am,” Michael said.

  She could tell by his tone that his so-called weakness was an insecurity and was deep-seated in his psyche. “Going to look for your father and brother wasn’t weak, that took courage, but—”

  “Here it comes,” he snarked.

  “But it was foolish. If you’re going to do something, be a bit more prepared. I know you were doing your best, but if you’re going to ever travel out again, have a weapon, a firearm, not a small knife.”

  “I don’t know how to shoot,” Michael confessed.

  She raised a brow. “You grew up in the country and on a farm and don’t know how to shoot? How is that even possible? I thought everyone in the country shot guns.”

  “My mom and dad aren’t against them; they also aren’t for them. My dad has a rifle and a shotgun. Oh, and he has a nice little pistol too. I’m sure he took that with him along with his rifle.”

  “You’re telling me all you have here to protect your family is a shotgun?”

  “Unless my dad had other stuff,” Michael mused. “Come, let me show you something.”

  Michael led Brienne down to the barn and pushed open the large heavy door. The late morning sun illuminated the space.

  Brienne looked around. On her left was a workstation with tools strewn everywhere. In front of that were wooden horses holding part of what must have been an unfinished project. Straight ahead of her sat something large covered by a tarp, and to her right were stacks and stacks of cardboard boxes of various sizes. It appeared they used that section of the barn for storage.

  “Over here,” Michael said, walking over to the large item in the barn.

  “What’s under there?” she asked. “Looks huge.”

  Michael tossed the front of the tarp up to reveal the prop of a plane. “It’s an Air Tractor 502B.”

  “Air Tractor?”

  “Yeah, a crop-dusting plane,” Michael confirmed.

  Brienne pulled back and looked left and right. “Where are the wings?”

  “They’re over in the corner,” Michael said. “Dad used to be a crop duster; then the
war came. He had to take the wings off to put the plane in the barn.”

  “Does it run?”

  “Not anymore, there’s no fuel for it. My dad is hoping that one day when the world becomes normal again, he can get back in the cockpit; those are his words.”

  “Do you remember him flying?” she asked.

  “Not really. I kinda think I do, but I don’t really. Maybe one day I’ll get this plane back together and, if I can get some fuel, fly it to the coast or maybe somewhere…”

  “Different?”

  “Yeah, someplace that’s not here,” he said. “What did you do for a job before?”

  “I was an executive acquisitions manager for a big pharma company. I had just taken a new position when everything went bad.”

  “Is that why you were in Europe?”

  “Yeah, I went there for the new position. We were working with the WHO to try to combat the dog flu, and when the war turned nuclear, I got stuck there,” she said.

  “Why would you go there, be so far away from your family, when all that stuff was happening? Heck, my dad stopped going into town and kept us home from school even though they had lifted the quarantine at school.”

  She thought about his question. It was a tough one for her to answer because the job she took wasn’t necessary, yet she took it knowing she’d have to travel at a time when air travel was greatly restricted and a war was waging with China. “I thought at the time my career mattered more, I suppose.” She paused, thought some more, then told him a lie. “It was a calculated risk I was taking for my family. I wanted us to have a bigger house, maybe even move out of Yuma if I could convince Jake. If I’d known I’d be stuck there and would have to travel for almost nine years, I wouldn’t have gone.”

  “But you did, and look what happened,” Michael said. He didn’t know how deeply his words cut her.

  “Thanks for the pep talk, kid. You don’t think I regret getting on that plane every day since?” she growled.

  “I want to go to Europe one day.”

  She put her arm over his shoulder and said, “Don’t, here is pretty darn special. You don’t know how lucky you are to have this secluded haven.”

  He craned his head to her and asked, “Did you walk the entire time?”

  “Not just walk, I’ve been on ships, boats, bicycles, cars, trucks, and even a train for a short time; but in between there’s been periods of nothing. I got stuck in Bermuda for a period of time, then made it to the east coast. We first landed in Maryland, but we heard that Washington was awash in radiation, so we sailed down to North Carolina. I spent time in the mountains during winter; couldn’t do much driving or walking with four feet of snow.”