The Sick

No coverage, not even one bar, the battery was dead anyway. It was still daytime, but there was an overcast and the sky had a perfectly even dullness, so there was no way to tell what time of day it was, much less which direction was north or south or anything else for that matter. A two-lane blacktop road snaked up into the distance and disappeared into some trees, or a forest if you wanted to get technical about it. It also snaked down toward some lumpy hills and disappeared there as well. What sounded like a two-stroke chainsaw could be heard in the distance, but it was impossible to tell whether it was up in the forest or down in the lumpy hills. This had been happening more often lately. Two different ways to go, with a dead battery and no bars.

I hefted the bag with what belongings I could carry, grabbed my three-year-old daughter Amanda’s hand, and sighed. I swab the locket my husband gave me before he left for his final tour in the army. It was beautiful. It was a heart shaped locket with a sapphire (my birthstone) in the middle with surrounding diamonds. I rubbed it again for good luck and wishing he’s still alive. Hoping he is still alive.

We had a decision to make. My 17-year-old, Tonya asked if we should go straight or go right. Truth is I didn’t know. All I wanted was to be somewhere safe. For the past 3 days, there was not another human in sight except for that sound. And what I didn’t want - was to be near that sound. Thinking that the sound must be coming from the forest like area, I decided to go right.

We were tired. More like exhausted in every way imaginable. We discovered a local bodega attached to an apartment building that appeared secure. I left the girls at the front door (something I always hated) – leaving them alone. They knew the rules, only come looking for me unless danger is imminent. Hiding from whatever is left of the Army, those who have formed their own militia, and of course; the sick.

Amanda and Tonya slid into the shadows of the door. I snuck around back and checked the doors and the windows. No luck. My hope is that there is no one locked inside or that the disease was spread inside. My biggest hope; food. I climb the fire escape and check the other windows. I am in luck. The window slides open. A little too easy for mu liking. I frown but decided to do my test.

I take a pebble from my pocket and throw it as hard as I can against the far wall. I must have thrown it a little too hard because it banged loudly against the wall then ricocheted against a vase. I waited. I paused listening for any sign of movement. There was none. I unlatched the machete from the makeshift holster. I had learned a few tricks on finding refuge. One, do not lean in headfirst. That almost cost me dearly once. Two, always slide in facing inside with my back against the wall to give myself leverage in case of an attack. That way, I can push off the wall and force the attacker to stumble backwards.

Remembering that the girls were still outside; I weaved my way into each room and found that everything was perfect. It looked like whomever lived here packed up, locked up and got of dodge before everything hit the fan. If only I were that lucky. Luck favors the prepared. Ha! What a joke. I saw the signs and I thought I was prepared. But no one prepared me for the traffic jams, the infestation of the sick, and the indecisive, always late teenager. No matter how many times I yelled at her to come on; Tonya still had her same habits on her.

I screamed “Tonya let’s go” over 15 times in 30 minutes. I yelled and yelled. Our little cul-de-sac became blocked with the neighbors’ cars and all the neighboring streets’ cars. Returning from my thoughts - I moved quickly through the building sweeping left and right ensuring that no corner went unchecked and suppressing the urge to be angry at Tonya. The bodega was clean. Fresh even. “When did they leave?” I wonder.

I quietly turn the locks to open the door. Amanda and Tonya look up. As they always do, Amanda slides in and then Tonya. The idea is to always be a barrier between the danger and Amanda. Protecting Amanda is always the objective. I tell Tonya that the place is clean, and the first order was to barricade the doors and secure the building even more. We each took turns taking a bath. It was so delightful. Neither one of us could remember the last time we had a full bath.

Finally, a home. Even if only for a moment. I checked the fridge and there was food! I began checking the labels. I closed the fridge and used what light was left outside to check the cabinets. More food. Then a sick feeling came over me. “What if they came back? What would we do?” This was just too much good stuff left. The only thing that gave me solace was seeing mold on stuff in the fridge.

I grabbed three packs of ramen noodles and vegetables from the freezer. I learned quickly to season food after the fact to not alert the world that we were around and had food. I placed the ingredients in a large bowl. This is the first time in days that we ate a real meal. After dinner, I searched the linen cabinet and found thick blankets. Tonya jumped into action helping me to secure all open windows. We closed the curtains and nailed the blankets to the wall. I turned to look at the girls curled up on the couch. I covered them with the remaining blanket before closing the door of the bathroom. For the first time in what feels like ages, we were able to sleep and feel secure.

Sadly, it was short lived. There was scratching. No scraping. “Oh no.” I thought. This can’t be happening. I rose slowly and stood in the semi-dark room. I crept to the window. Sure enough, there were maybe 4-6 sick people scraping at the window. They must have picked up our scent. Or maybe they lived here. They were scraping at the only window that was once unlocked. Before I could formulate a plan, there was a loud BANG! Then someone whooping.

It was gunfire. I didn’t have to wake the girls. I looked over and they were already on the floor of the hallway lying there quietly – not moving, looking at me for instructions. I indicated to stay quiet. Just as quickly as the sounds came – they left. Tonya is visibly shaken by the event.

She recalls every day me stopping at the ATM to withdraw $500. She also recalled me going into the bank several times until one day the cards stopped working and the tellers denied access to accounts. She remembers being dropped off at school and being angry over the heated conversation about not spending money and being conservative just in case of crisis. I told her that we couldn’t buy what was considered frivolous things. She continuously screamed “why not” like a five-year old throwing a temper tantrum. I tried to assure her that we needed the cash for food as the prices would increase dramatically. And it did.

At school, many kids were wearing masks. Most were coughing with, and without masks. Then the announcement came that students who have been coughing were to report to the gym. The police, and Army presence was crazy. I parked on a side street and told her to run fast as they were blocking off roads. I tossed a pill bottle at her and told her to take two of the green and orange pills.

I gave commands about what to do. “Don’t grab too much as we may have to travel on foot. Don’t touch anything anyone else has touched. Wear the mask ALWAYS. Pack sweats and leggings. As much as possible don’t let anyone touch her or her sister. Don’t call anyone except family. We need to be out of the city in less than 30 minutes.” Blah, blah, blah. And she destroyed our only chance at safety.

Amanda called to me barely audible. I heard my daughter’s worry and lovingly said to her the words that always comforted her when she had doubts about anything: “I’m here baby”. Those were the words I said when there was a monster under the bed, the thunder and lightning was just a little bit scary, she was just sad but couldn’t explain why: “I’m here baby”. Those words caused both girls to run to their mother.

No one paid attention to the training manuals. Including me. I called my family. They were safe. The last communication was a text from my niece: WE’RE ALL SAFE 2GTHR WR R U? After almost 2 years the water turned cold. It was still clean, but as for drinking I made sure to boil it. It came to a point where we did not eat much. In those two years my phone did not ring, nor did it chime. Did they count us as dead? Why at this point has there not been any type of news? Amanda humbled me quickly with one simple question. What if the sickness spread and they all died or worse was killed? I finally turned on my phone after leaving it off for so long.

As the phone came to life there was hope. Hope became a reality: AUNTIE WE’RE STILL LKG 4 U AUNTIE PLZ SAY SMTHG (ding, ding) IT’S 2023 N UR STLL PETTY OK LAST KNOWN PLC WE GO’N SMWHR IN ICELAND GET THR!

We packed up all we could carry and set on our journey. We retrieved one metal bat that Tonya held onto. I had found 2 semi-automatics and enough clips to last us for a while. I stepped out first followed by Amanda and then Tonya. No one had forgotten the mission. Protect Amanda. I decided to stay on the road that we were on until I could find a better mode of transportation. We moved quickly and quietly. The problem wasn’t the sound or movement it was our scent.

Just then, about three people who clearly were sick descended on us. I shot them before they could reach my family. Those times spent at the gun range paid off. The sound caused more to come. We ran fast like the wind. Faster than the last time and that surprised me.

We came upon a dealership and Tonya smashed in the door with the bat. She rushed inside followed by Amanda and then me. We pushed the desks in front of the door. We were no longer downwind, so the swarm rushed on. Tonya got the idea to try the key fobs. If just one of the cars chirped - that was our way out. We started trying key after key after key. Tonya was holding the magic key. It chirped again.

We waited to see if the sound stirred anything or anyone else. The sound was very close. We eagerly jumped in the SUV. I found myself driving mostly on the sidewalk. My eyes sweeping for whatever danger that could be lurking around the corner. We drove for what seemed like days. I turned on the phone. I sent a text to my niece: SAFE IN LOUISIANA … LOOK FOR MARK CUMMINGS … GIVE HIM MY NUMBER. Only one way to go this time, with five bars and full battery. Find a boat and additional supplies. Get to Iceland no matter what it takes .