Scarlet's Fever

Scarlet pulled her thoughts out of her daze long enough to focus on the creek water she was wading through. Her fever was spiking again, and she knew it wouldn’t be too long before she had to stop and rest. She normally tried to steer clear the area where crowds of fresh exiles were callously dropped off on the island, but she knew that with new exiles came fresh supplies. And she desperately needed food and medicine. Many people who were still alive on the island were no longer strong enough to fight her for her pack, but she didn’t want to take any chances. She had heard about a camp of exiles on the south side of the island that were killing people and stealing their supplies. She had no desire to spend her last days on Earth caught up with a gang of thugs, so she stayed as far away from their camp as possible. Scarlet slowly made her way back to her makeshift shelter through the creek, careful to keep an eye out for anybody who may be following her or lying in wait. It was a half-day trek back to her cave, and it would be nearly impossible for anybody to track her to her hideout through the creek. It was becoming more and more difficult for her to stay hidden, as the island was becoming crowded with people who had caught the virus and were exiled from their home territories. However, the dead bodies of those who succumbed to the virus were piling up nearly as quickly as the live exiles who washed up on the shore.

“Just focus on your feet. Just focus on your feet,” Scarlet kept telling herself, sometimes audibly so that she remained awake and alert enough to find her way back to her makeshift shelter. Her feet felt heavy, and she was dizzy from her high fever and pounding headache. She would be happy to take the aspirin she found in her pack. But she would wait until she was safe. Newly exiled people were dangerous. They were still strong enough to cause harm, and they were scared. Yes, they were dangerous, but then again, so were some exiles who had been there for weeks. People usually didn’t survive longer than about 10 weeks with the virus. And for those who lasted that long, death was a welcome reprieve from their pain. Scarlet shuddered when she thought about how awful it was to watch Ben and Annie die. Their suffering had ended, but now Scarlet was all alone to fend for herself. Lawlessness had taken over the island. “But what do you expect, when you drop sick people from helicopters on the shores of a deserted island with no laws and no law enforcement? And no hope?” she muttered to herself as she trudged along. “Focus on your feet, Scarlet, focus on your feet.” Her pounding head was keeping time with her steps. All she wanted in that moment was to lie down and sleep. “Just a little bit longer,” she told herself, as she stepped out of the creek and turned toward her destination. Scarlet suddenly remembered the locket, and pulled it out of her pocket and turned it over in her shaky hand to look at it. When all else failed, she would examine every curve of that heart-shaped locket, the only thing she was able to hold on to from her former life, and she could keep going. It felt like the only thing left on Earth that reminded her that her former life was not a dream. It had been a reality, if a fleeting one. The shiny silver glinted in the fading sunlight. She felt her emotions well up, and a tear rolled down her cheek. She carefully placed the locket back in the pocket of her cargo pants, and glanced around. Up ahead was the cliff. She had finally reached her destination, a small cave she had found on the side of the cliff. It was difficult to reach, but that, she was sure, was what kept her safe. To her knowledge, nobody had as yet ventured out that far. Most exiles would claim the abandoned shacks and houses along the beach that had been left behind when the island was evacuated. It seemed like a lifetime ago to Scarlet, but the virus had been running rampant throughout the globe for only two years. Testing positive for the virus meant a death sentence. Nobody survived. Eighteen months ago in the spring, the UN convened an emergency tribunal and ordered that all citizens who tested positive for the virus be transported to quarantine islands, to protect the safety of healthy citizens. In the first six months, the global pandemic had taken out nearly 20% of the population on Earth.

Scarlet had just graduated from medical school and was working the night shift in the ER of a busy hospital when the novel virus was announced to the world. Though she did everything she could to protect herself from the virus and save the lives of her patients, she tested positive five weeks ago. Most hospitals had become ghost-towns. Medical personnel were among the first to catch the virus and subsequently die from it. Medical facilities were not prepared for a worldwide pandemic of this magnitude, and nothing they tried could reverse or even slow the effects of the virus. They nick-named it The White Plague due to the way the person’s skin became white and ashy before they died from it.

Scarlet spent her first week on the island trying to help the exiles who were further along in their illness. But it became increasingly clear to her that her efforts were not only futile, but sadly, also wasteful. Eventually her survival instincts kicked in, and she found a place where she could protect herself. Well actually, Ben was the one who found the cave. “Oh, Ben,” she muttered to herself as she crawled into the safety of her cave. “How I miss you and Annie.” She laid her backpack beside her sleeping pad, swallowed her aspirin, and wiped away her desperate tears from her hot cheeks. She began reciting muscles of the body as she drifted off into a fitful sleep. "Sternocleidomastoid, Trapezius, Pectoralis major, Serratus, Detrusor, Rectus Femoris, Sartorius, Gastrocnemius, Soleus..."