San Antonio

October 28, 2023

The grocery cart rolled slowly by, its wheels squeaking in the early morning darkness, its remote control receiver blinking red. It stopped at the corner of Military Drive and South Winston Lane, blinking green.

“We’re clear,” whispered Celeste. She signaled for two of her people to head to the back of the house and the third to join her at the front door. Dressed in dark, camouflage clothing and full face shields, the four silently ran across the road. They held their AK-47s shoulder level, prepared in case anything went wrong.

Celeste and Roger knelt on either side of the front door, painted red to signify a danger zone. She leaned over and knocked two times, softly, and held her breath, praying that this was the right place. When someone knocked back, her breath came out in a whoosh and she looked around the yard and neighborhood to see if she had alerted anyone to their presence.

Roger reached up and turned the doorknob then pushed it open just enough for the petite Celeste to squeeze through. Someone inside immediately shut the door behind her so the moonlight wouldn’t get through. Someone else took her gun and her face mask and frisked her.

“Every night we’ll sleep . . .” a male voice said in her ear.

“Under the fish.” She answered.

A small light came on in the kitchen and she saw her sister, Mona and her thirteen-year-old niece Amanda standing there. She ran to them and they were suddenly engulfed in a group hug, whispering excitedly.

Celeste hadn’t seen her family since they found her shooting heroin in an abandoned house on Vance Jackson, three years ago. Her greasy hair and skeletal body was more than Mona could handle and she left her there, knowing she couldn’t help her if she didn’t want it.

“You look good,” Mona said, running her fingers through her sister’s short, black hair. “You filled out a bit. Looks healthy.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t look for you when the new strain was discovered,” Celeste said. “I assumed you made it out with everyone else.”

“I stayed behind to help,” said Mona. “The hospital cleared out so fast! I could have gone with the other nurses, but it didn’t seem right. Now no one can get out. We’ve been on the run ever since.”

Just as San Antonio and the world were recovering from Covid-19 in June of 2021, a variant called B.1.1.7 was discovered. It showed the same symptoms like loss of taste or smell, nasal congestion, and coughing. But it also affected the limbic part of the brain, altering emotions and behavior.

The B.1.1.7 patients at Methodist Hospital seemed to be recovering with no visible signs of the virus. But inside their heads, their brains were being revved up and they felt irrational and murderous. The doctors realized it too late and the first three victims slaughtered the hospital night crew with guns they stole from the security staff. Similar stories were coming from every hospital in the area.

San Antonio city officials panicked and evacuated as much of the population as they could. Hundreds of thousands of people fled. The police force was contaminated before many of its officers could leave and two years later there were still a couple thousand men and women who patrolled the city, intent on killing anyone they saw. They were decent people before the virus, but now their brains sizzled with electric violence. There were also several civilian groups that formed from people who were infected. They were called the Civs and they camped out on the far northeast side in places like Converse, Texas. They preferred to keep to themselves, but anyone who step inside their borders, had no chance of getting out.

“Okay, guys, we gotta get ready,” Celeste said, pulling them over to sit at the table. “The Pepperidge Apartment Complex is about ten miles away, but we have three check points if we need to rest or need any help. We’ll be safe out there and I have people looking out for us along the way.”

“How do you know so many people?” laughed Mona. “I thought everyone left!”

The last group considered for evacuation was the homeless, made up of addicts, the mentally ill, and people down on their luck. “They already had an underground in place to help each other and communicate,” said Celeste. “For years the homeless have been helping each other survive. All we had to do was get more organized. We created safe communes like Pepperidge. We stockpiled and organized before everyone was even out of the city.”

“General Woods, you need to go,” whispered a voice from the living room.

“General?” asked Mona. “I guess you remembered your military training.”

“It’s my training from living on the streets, too,” said Celeste, putting her arm around Mona’s neck. “One thing about an addict – we always come up with creative ways to solve problems because we’re usually creating them. Let’s get out of here!”

*****

The trip back to Pepperidge only took a couple hours and the women felt hopeful as they turned the corner toward the apartment complex. Roger walked in front of the group, while the other two team members stayed farther back. Celeste and Mona talked quietly about the 18 apartment communities all on Vance Jackson Road. “We’re all connected through walkie talkies and each one has connections to two or three communities on different roads. And each of those has more connections.”

“Are they all homeless people and addicts?” Mona asked.

“It started that way,” said Celeste. “A lot of the residents got out and went to other parts of Texas. The homeless filled in the empty apartments since at that point, no one was collecting rent. We have all sorts of people living on this road. All cultures and income levels. It’s safer. The cops usually avoid Vance Jackson because we can close in the ranks pretty quickly. The Civs leave us alone and we leave them alone.”

They came to a solid steel gate with barbed wire on top that extended to the fencing around the complex. “Hurry up!” A man opened the gate and slammed it shut behind them. “Shit, General! Took long enough didn’t ya?”

“I’ve never been so glad to see your ugly, tattooed face and bald head Otto!” she said. “Guys, this is Otto, my second in command. In the so-called real world he was a gangster and a meth dealer. Now he works for me.”

“I work with you, I keep telling you that. Even though I do all the work!” he laughed. “C’mon, let me give you the tour while her highness catches her breath.”

Later that day, Celeste lay on her couch with her head on her older sister’s lap, feeling like she was home for the first time in years.

“Hey, I have something for you,” Mona said, handing her a heart-shaped locket. Celeste sat up, tears rolling down her face and opened it to reveal a picture of herself and Tom, her husband who was killed in Afghanistan. It was that event that started her spiral down into the world of drugs. She lay back down, clutching the locket against her chest, and sobbed until there was nothing left.

*****

“Hey boss, something big is happening.” A skinny Hispanic teenager walked into the apartment.

“This is my first in command, Mark,” said Celeste. “He knows everybody in the city and has eyes everywhere.”

“Boss, they need you for a rescue operation.”

“What’s going on? Who needs rescuing?”

“The mayor.”

“Are you kidding me?” Celeste stood up quickly. “I thought he got out!”

“Nope. He and his familia are stuck in Converse with Civs everywhere. Everyone wants to help, but they say it has to be you in charge, General.”

“It’s too dangerous!” said Mona.

“It’s worth the risk,” Celeste said, unfolding a map on the kitchen table. “If we can get him out, he can get the governor’s attention and get us the hell out of here!”

“I think we should take the truck.” Otto came in the apartment breathless. Celeste stopped what she was doing and stared at him. They had managed to steal a SWAT truck but it was only used in dire emergencies. It was dangerous to draw attention to the complex and gas was hard to come by.

“That’s almost 30 miles of driving,” said Mark. “But it might be safer than sneaking the team in on foot.”

“Mark, get your network ready to pass along the information. We’ll need backup and places to run if this goes south. Otto, get a team together of our best people. And make sure the truck is operational. We go in tonight. At 2100 hours.”

*****

The SWAT truck drove without its headlights, sneaking into Civ territory. “Otto, drop us off at that corner. We’ll bring out the mayor quietly.” The team quickly disembarked and lined up against a wooden fence. One by one, they snuck in through the carport. Bringing up the rear, Celeste hesitated when she saw a strange figure standing about a block away. It was a man but much bigger than an ordinary human being. When he stepped out of the shadows she saw his thick neck and a head that was five times the normal size.

“Holy shit,” mumbled Celeste. Even from a block away she felt like she had to aim high, he was so tall. She could see his muscles bulging out of his tight clothing. I didn’t know the virus made incredible hulks! I don’t think I have enough firepower to take him down.

He moved slowly towards her, his eyes blood red, his skin almost reptilian, and his teeth sharp with drool dripping off them. Celeste shot three times, but it didn’t faze him. She backed up, hoping the noise alerted her team and not his friends.

Just as he bent down, preparing to charge like a bull, Otto yelled, “Duck!” A grenade sailed over her head and landed right at the creature’s feet. It exploded as Celeste dove behind an abandoned car.

“General there’s more coming!” shouted Mark. The team escorted the mayor, his wife, and two children out to where the SWAT truck was parked. They scrambled inside as a crowd came around the corner; some carried weapons, others were creatures, prepared to tear off limbs.

The truck sped off with the sound of bullets dinging its outer armor.

“Everyone alright?” asked Celeste.

“We’re fine,” said the mayor’s wife, who sat with her arms around the children. “Thank you so much!”

“Yes, thank you,” the mayor said, shaking Celeste’s hand. “You and your team are something else! We owe you our lives!”

When they pulled up to Pepperidge, they saw lights coming from the sky.

“Now that’s something I haven’t heard in awhile,” said Mark.

“It’s a helicopter!” The mayor yelled. “They got my message. They’ll be coming for us soon. For my family and for all of you. I’m just not sure how many need help.”

“Let me be of assistance,” said Mark, smiling and pulling out his walkie talkie.

Everyone got out of the truck and congratulated each other with hugs and slaps on the back. Celeste planted a big kiss on Otto’s face.

“That’s for the grenade.”

“Damn, if I’d have known, I would have blown up something a lot sooner. Love ya chica.”

“Love you, too, mi amigo.”

She saw Amanda and Mona running into the parking lot.

“Did you hear the helicopter?” shouted Amanda. “Are they here to save us?”

“Yes, thank God,” Celeste hugged her and watched her friends celebrate. “I thought I was living in hell when Tom died. Then my already unbearable world became darker. But this community pulled me through. We are finally saved. It’s over.”