by Peter Hall
Sarah grinned as she pointed the remote control at the TV in the corner of the kitchen.
“… cases reported in six other cities in the U.S. The President has made an executive order prohibiting non-essential travel between states and all flights into and out of the country have been cancelled…”
“Oh my Lord, how awful. Have they no idea what it is?” Sarah said.
“I’ve not seen anything confirmed, but plague keeps being mentioned. Something about lumps in the neck, and armpits.”
“Plague? Surely not. That’s ancient history. Here’s your toast, dear.”
“Thanks. I looked it up last night. The plague’s never gone away. There are still cases every year in parts of the world.”
“… anyone with signs of fever, or aches and pains, should stay at home and self-isolate. Report any symptoms to your physician but do not go to the ER…”
Sarah turned away from the screen. “I was going into the village today to post a parcel. It looks like it’s promising to be a lovely day for a stroll. I don’t suppose…”
“Sure, I’ll walk with you. Just give me time to do my physio stuff and tidy my cabin a bit. I’ll not be walking quickly though.”
“That doesn’t matter. I’m in no hurry. By the way, you look much nicer without that horrible beard.”
He rubbed his bare chin. “Thanks. It feels better too.”
“… some victims develop a yellow pallor which has led to the Mayor of New York calling the outbreak the Yellow Death…”
Sarah picked up the remote control again. “Do you mind if I turn this thing off? It’s giving me the creeps.”
“No problems.”
“… W.H.O. has confirmed this is not a Coronavirus related disease, but a completely new—” The screen went blank.
“That’s better,” Sarah said. “As if there aren’t enough bad things happening without talk of a new disease. Plague indeed!”
John ate his toast in silence.
CHAPTER 20
Kim & The Outbreak
TIMELINE: At the time of the Yellow Death
“There are no great humans, only great challenges that ordinary humans are forced by circumstances to meet.”
William F Halsey (1882–1959)
Like John and Sarah, millions of UK citizens learnt of the new ‘Yellow Death’ disease that morning over breakfast as they watched in horror at the events in America. In South London, one of those people was Kim Sullivan, who was rushing to get herself and her three-year-old daughter ready to leave the house—whilst keeping one eye on the television.
“… unconfirmed reports of the National Guard firing live ammunition on civilians trying to break out of the cordon in Bedminster…”
Katy sat at the kitchen table, stirring her Coco Pops with a spoon. “Mama, where’s Daddy?”
“Daddy’s not here Katy. Remember, I told you he had to go to Bristol to visit Grampy ‘cos he’s a bit poorly? Now eat up your cereal quickly, there’s a good girl. Mummy needs to get to work.”
“… claimed that photographs posted on Facebook showing long queues outside hospitals are fakes and were actually taken during the last Covid-19 pandemic…”
Kim glanced at her wristwatch and cursed under her breath. Leaving for work in the morning was always a rush. Without Nigel here to help, she had fallen behind schedule. She checked herself in the mirror whilst waiting for Katy to empty her bowl. An independent observer would have described Kim as an attractive thirty-two-year-old, with her jet black shoulder length hair framing an oval face and large obsidian eyes. Kim only saw limp hair, tired eyes, and smudged lipstick.
“Katy, pleeeese hurry up, we have to go.”
Twenty minutes later, Kim pulled into her mother’s driveway, grabbed Katy from her safety seat and rushed to the front door, pressing the bell several times.
She looked at her wristwatch again. “Come on, come on.”
“Mummy, will Daddy be home tonight?”
“Not tonight, darling. He’ll be staying with Grampy for a few days yet, but maybe we can Facetime him, okay?”
Kim looked up at the oppressive grey clouds. It was about to piss down on them. Where the hell was her mother?
The door opened. Rachel was an older version of Kim, but with shorter hair. Rachel considered aging to be an enemy to be resisted, so did not tolerate a single grey hair. “Ah, Katy, how are you today? I see you’ve brought Panda with you, lovely. Do come in, I’ve got the telly on ready for you to watch Peppa Pig.”
“Yay!” Katy rushed past Rachel into the living room.
Kim handed Katy’s bag to Rachel. “I can’t talk, I’m late. See you about six?”
“Fine, whenever you’re ready. I’ll give Katy some tea before you arrive. Oh, by the way, did you see those terrible news reports about the plague—”
“Sorry Mum, I really have to go. I’m late and the traffic’s awful this morning. Speak tonight, yes?”
During the drive to the Library where she worked, Kim would normally tune her radio to Capital, where upbeat music and banal showbiz gossip would cheer her up. Today she switched to BBC Radio 4 where the Today programme was covering the situation in New York. Hard facts seemed to be vanishingly rare with just a mish-mash of conflicting stories. A virologist claimed this outbreak was a hoax since no virus could spread as fast as the reports suggested.
When Kim pulled into the Library car park—five minutes late—she knew little more than when she left home that morning. It was probably nothing. After all, she had become used to new diseases appearing regularly: bird flu; swine flu; Mad Cow disease; bat blight; Coronavirus, and so forth. The first reports were always worrisome. The media inevitably jumped on the story and predicted the end of the world. When it became clear the new disease was manageable, the media would speculate about mutations into something worse. Kim wanted reassurance this was a false alarm.
She entered the Library through the main doors and relaxed before mouthing the word “Sorry” to her colleague who was manning the check-out desk. There was an air of studious calm about the building, which was one reason she loved her job. That and the books—the Library was one of the few places with more books than her house.
The day passed slowly. There were fewer customers than normal, and only the internet terminals were busy. Sometimes the Library felt more of a technology hub than a book repository. She hated it last year when they had replaced bookshelves with another bank of computer workstations. She noted several people checking out books with a medical theme. Her colleagues talked incessantly about the outbreak, or followed the news on their phones—usually both at the same time. When Kim left work, she was weary of idle speculation, so played music in the car. She almost forgot about the situation until a car pulled up next to her with both occupants wearing face masks.
Christ Almighty! It didn’t take long for panic to start.
After a day of listening to doom-mongering, Kim wanted a bottle of wine. Normally, they only drank at weekends, but with Nigel absent and all this crazy talk, she would make an exception. Kim made a minor diversion to the nearby Tesco Express. It was busy—way more than normal. Customers packed shopping trolleys with essentials. There was an undertone of urgency which was contagious. Kim decided to grab a few items since she was already there.
Kim walked to the drinks aisle. The shelves of bottled water were almost empty. She reached for the last five-litre bottle, but another woman grabbed it first. Their eyes met, and they both smiled politely.
“It’s okay, you have it,” Kim said. “I’ve probably got plenty at home, anyway.” That was a lie, but Kim did not want a confrontation.
“Thanks, it’s all gone crazy, hasn’t it?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Kim noticed the woman’s trolley had enough toilet rolls to supply an army.
The woman saw Kim’s eyes focus on her hoard and hurried off, looking guilty. Kim could not remember whether they had any stocks of toilet roll, so went to the toiletries a
isle to be greeted with more empty shelves.
“For fuck’s sake, what’s wrong with everyone?”
Feeling even more unsettled, she left the store, purchasing nothing.
That evening, alone with Katy, she missed Nigel terribly. After Katy had been given her bedtime story and was safely tucked up, Kim sat on the sofa wishing she had bought that bottle of white wine after all. She sat through the news reports and the special documentary on Channel 4 about the crisis. They covered the quarantine around New York and showed horrific pictures of panicked citizens fleeing the city. There were literally thousands of video clips showing chaos and panic uploaded onto YouTube every hour.
If Nigel had been with her, they would have talked about it at length and made plans together. Being alone at this time sucked. Before he left, they had agreed he would call her when he could. Kim’s eyes kept wandering to the phone, willing it to ring. She dozed off, hugging a cushion, so when the telephone sounded, it took a few seconds for her to remember where she was.
“Hello?”
“Kim, it’s me. How are you?”
“Oh, Nigel, thank God. I was hoping you’d phone.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Only the entire world going mad.”
“Oh right, the Yellow Death thing. That’s partly why I’m phoning. How’s Katy managing without her favourite parent?”
“She’s fine. I don’t think she’s realised you’ve gone yet.”
“Ha, ha.”
“How’s your Dad?”
“Not too bad. He’s still in hospital and had a battery of tests. They still don’t know why he collapsed. It might have been a mini-stroke. He’ll probably be coming home tomorrow, but they’ll be doing further tests over the next few weeks.”
“That’s a relief. Thank God it’s nothing serious. Do you know when you’re coming back? I miss you—there’s a backlog of laundry and dishes building up.”
“I’m sure there is. I must show you how to use the washing machine, one of these days. Seriously though, about me coming back—I was actually going to suggest the opposite. How about you and Katy coming down here to stay with us for a few days?”
“Oh, I see. Er… Won’t that be difficult with your dad coming home? He’ll need looking after.”
“Clearly, it’s not ideal, but I’m worried about this Yellow Death thing.”
Kim was taken aback. The idea of fleeing London for the countryside seemed an over reaction.
“Kim? Are you still there?”
“Sorry, yes. I was just surprised. There’ve only been cases in New York, hasn’t there?”
“So they say—if you believe them—which I don’t. But if they’re telling the truth, how long will it stay confined? I trust nothing coming from the Government. I certainly don’t trust them to tell us if cases turn up in London. Their priority would be to prevent a panic. Look at what’s happened in New York.”
“Yes, but tomorrow? I’d have to pack for me and Katy. I’ve got work, I can’t just not turn up. Katy has kindergarten tomorrow—they’re doing some sort of baking and she was really looking forward to it. And what about my mum? I can’t run off and abandon her.”
“Bring your Mother if you want to. She can sleep in my parent’s caravan in the garden.”
“Ha! Good luck getting Mum to sleep in a caravan.”
“Well, we’ll sort something else out then. The important thing is that we’re all together.”
“Nige, this is very good of your parents, but it’s all too quick. Let me try to get time off work at short notice and I’ll speak to Mum. There’s no need to panic—one day won’t make any difference.”
“Weeeell, okay, I suppose. We’ll see how it develops. But keep your eyes on the news. If things get worse, I want you ready to jump in the car at a moment’s notice.”
“Oh, Nigel, you’re so masterful.”
“I’m serious.”
“Sorry, okay. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. But you check with your dad when he gets home. I suspect the last thing he wants when he’s convalescing is a bunch of refugees landing on his doorstep.”
“Nonsense, he always loves to see Katy… and you, of course.”
“Of course. Listen, I’m bushed, it’s bloody hard work without you here and I need to get to bed. Give my love to your Mum.”
“Will do, love you.”
The situation deteriorated the next day. On the breakfast news, there were reports of cases in other US cities plus rumours of thousands dying in New York. A White House Press Release warned against fake news. Kim watched a video on YouTube purporting to show long rows of bodies outside a New York hospital. The scene was chilling—but was it real?
In London, life continued almost like normal. Kim went to work as usual and Katy attended kindergarten as usual. However, an undertone of menace and suspicion haunted the streets. Everyone waited for the inevitable announcement that the disease was in the UK. The Government provided bland reassurances that reassured nobody.
That evening, when Katy was in bed and Kim was eating a nondescript macaroni cheese ready-meal in front of the television, the phone rang and she saw from the display that it was Nigel.
“Hi Nige.”
“Hi Kim, how’s things? How’s Katy?”
“Just a sec while I switch off the TV… That’s it. We’re all good. Not died of the plague yet.”
“Ha, ha. Very funny.”
“Sorry. Katy made a gingerbread man at kindergarten today.”
“Excellent. Did it taste good?”
“How dare you! Mr Ginger is now Katy’s new best friend. She’s taken him to bed with her and I don’t think he’s going to be eaten anytime soon.”
“Oh dear. And what happens when Mr Ginger starts to become Mr Mouldy?”
“I’m hoping by then we’ll all be back together and you can deal with that temper tantrum.”
“I can hardly wait. Have you decided about coming down here?”
“Sure. I have to go to work tomorrow, but I’ve booked a weeks’ holiday starting the next day. In a week, we’ll have a much better idea whether this is serious. There’s no way Mum’s coming, though. She said she’d lived in that house for forty years and she was planning to die in it.”
“Well, let’s hope that’s not soon. Are you sure you have to work tomorrow?”
“Yes. If I want a job to go back to. Which I do by the way.”
“Okay, fine. Fingers crossed, things don’t get any worse. I read the Government has plans to cut off London if there’s an outbreak there.”
“Rubbish. Where did you read that—Scaremonger.com?”
“Actually, I think it was The Guardian.”
“Well, even so, they couldn’t possibly know for sure. The media are speculating like everyone else. Anyway, there hasn’t been a single case in the UK. All flights from the US are cancelled. With luck we may escape it.”
“Yeah, we’ll see. Stable doors and all that.”
“Listen, Mr Pessimist. The day after tomorrow, you and me sipping Prosecco as we admire the view over the Bristol channel. Yes?”
“It’s a date. Have we still got those boxes of face masks somewhere?”
“I don’t know. If we have, they must be in the garage.”
“See if you can hunt them out and bring them with you, will you? I tried to order some online today and everywhere’s sold out.”
“You’re kidding. What’s got into everyone?”
“I expect most people are being cautious, like me. Nobody wants to get caught out. Mom’s gone and ordered a massive grocery delivery with lots of long-life milk and stuff, just in case.”
“Why am I not surprised? By the way, how’s your dad?”
“He’s back home with us. Very chipper. It’s as if it never happened. This afternoon we had to stop him from going out to mow the lawn. He hates enforced resting and being treated as an invalid.”
“Fantastic news. I’m glad to hear something’s going well today. Give
your parents my love.”
“I will. Mum’s already started baking cakes and biscuits for you and Katy. If you don’t get here soon, they’ll overwhelm us.”
“Please remind her I’m supposed to be on a diet.”
“Sorry. Mum doesn’t recognise that word. You’ll have to sneak a few biscuits under the table for the dog.”
“I can’t do that. Benji already needs to be dieting more than me. He’s the fattest labrador in Bristol.”
“Fair enough. We’ll just have to put the excess biscuits into stock for the apocalypse.”
“That’s not funny anymore. I’m officially banning all jokes about the end of the world.”
The following day, Kim overheard a conversation about people presenting at London hospitals with symptoms of the plague. The Government strongly asserted that all was well and preparations were in place in the ‘unlikely’ event the disease crossed the Atlantic. The Transport Minister announced an immediate forty-eight hours ban on flights in and out of the UK. The Scottish Assembly unilaterally closed the border between England and Scotland, which brought vitriolic outrage from Westminster. This rather negated the Government’s assurances that the situation was under control.
Kim saw the effect of the crisis everywhere she looked. Three library staff phoned in sick, although nobody believed they were ill. It hardly mattered, since the library remained deserted. Long queues formed outside local stores and petrol stations. Shops limited the number of items that could be purchased. It became commonplace to see people wearing masks. If anybody dared sneeze, they would find themselves in a very lonely place.
More than anything that day, the atmosphere of distrust and alarm lurking just below the surface unsettled Kim. Strangers would stare at you in the street, looking for any sign of illness. It seemed every individual had developed a magnetic field that repelled everyone else. People went about their business with heads down, faces covered. Citizens were scared.
And still the Government and media denied any cases in the UK.
