A Greenspace

A restless night and errands on hand did nothing to change Craig's somber morning mood. He hit the snooze button four times before any motivation triggered him to make the day count. He continued to lay in bed looking at his ceiling.

It was 10:00am and time to shower and take his prescribed medication. The trip to Austen's Marsh was high priority and was off the beaten path. His trusted source told him GPS would help him reach the area, but wasn't accessible to vehicles. He would have to walk most of the way.

He wandered into the kitchen to make a breakfast sandwich, drink the left over beer from last night, and make coffee. As he located the non-dairy creamer and sugar, he listened to the newscaster.

"Let's see what happy news is on today," he said sarcastically while looking at the stream on his phone.

"We bring you breaking news. A vaccine will be available within 48 hours for the deadly pathogen being called X-5 as it has been known to develop within five days of being infected. The pharmaceutical companies and scientists have promised an injection of the vaccine will be readily available to the public. They also have advised there will also be a pill version too."

While guzzling the coffee, he packed the tripod, a camera, snacks, and an inhaler. Wearing a mask didn't really bother him. Craig's asthma seemed to be triggered by stress, excitement, or allergens.

His HOA mandated everyone wear a mask when entering the community and leaving their community until the public emergency was declared over.

After a long stretch of more than four months, he was actually looking forward to locating the hidden greenspace. His trusted source told him it once had been a part of a thriving national park registry but was now abandoned. It was however, aesthetically sound.

"Your destination is 100 yards to the left," the GPS alerted him. The drive had been easier than he thought but the seclusion was unnerving.

He examined the foliage and saw a high rusty fence too. As he jumped out of the truck he moved closer to the fence and noticed a sign. It read:

NO VEHICLES BEYOND THIS POINT-TURN AROUND

The fence had an opening just large enough for him to squeeze his backpack through. With a little more force though, it bent and Craig was able to climb through too. His jeans and socks protected him while the jacket insulated him from the cool air. He had been so use to wearing the mask, it felt good to finally pull it off for this venture. The marsh was quiet except for the sound of water flowing in a creek. The bog was huge and some old logs were helpful in crossing to the other side.

He immediately thought about filming the greenspace. Craig also did a real time video with commentary while sitting on a log. The place had a very earthy aroma to it but the bog actually did not smell pleasant. The decomposition of vegetation along the banks was evident.

"Well, guess I better try to wrap this up-my errands still await me," he uttered and chuckled to himself. As Craig attempted to stand up carefully and slowly the unstableness of marshy land and water along with high weight caused the logs to shift.

The water was chest high and smelled horribly foul. The unexpected splash of the fall scared him a little. The water was also extremely cold to him.

"I try to get away from mask wearing and crowds! Damn and this is what happens to me" he yelled as he successfully waded through the murky water.

Now his breathing was labored but he was going to make it back to the truck just fine. "Just great Craig, you left the inhaler in the truck."

He remembered taking a puff of the medicine before leaving the truck. It was sitting on the passenger side. As he cleared his throat and attempted to breathe as slowly as possible the pain he felt was excruciating.

His legs were weak and the fatigue was surreal too. The stinging sensation in his feet forced him to stop. Now wet and cold, Craig removed the sneakers and socks. Both of his feet were bruised with a purplish tinge. The bite marks on his left foot oozed and some organism was lodged in his heel. He saw the pulsating. It had bitten through the sock.

His right foot was bleeding because one toe had been seemingly bitten in half. There was also some kind of vegetation wrapped around his foot tightly. He screamed and yelled even though he knew there was no one in the greenspace but him. As he now crawled to the fence that was now about 20 yards away, he could not see clearly. As he pushed his way through the opening without the lost backpack and phone, Craig prayed and cried.

He was now on his back trying to use his strength to get to the truck. He had actually been smart enough to leave the keys in the ignition with the doors unlocked.

He looked on with disbelief. The truck was gone. While trying to reason with himself, a group of armed individuals wearing biohazard gear yanked him up. They said nothing and immediately blindfolded Craig. "No, no, leave me...," but before he finished speaking, an injection was administered.

The (MET) Microbiology and Epidemiology Team also suited him up in Biohazard gear. For several years the covert group used heat signature and surveillance to monitor the restricted greenspace. The trusted source baited Craig. The MET paid individuals very well to locate human subjects for experimental trials and research.

The night quickly fell on the greenspace. The caravan of unmarked vehicles sped away from the site with no witnesses.

Craig was never seen alive again.

THE END