Blue scrubs leaning over him, along with bright, bright lights. His eyes hurt from staring into them. “The bleeding is heavy, but I think the abdominal aorta is intact. We’ll need to check it out. Prep him for surgery.”
Nathaniel counted himself lucky. Everyone was either on shift or at lunch. He climbed into his coffin and cradled his head in his hands.
A petite woman in slacks and a yellow blouse stood at the end of his hospital bed.
“Hi Nathan, I’m Laura, your social worker. I’m here to check on you. Are you doing better?”
His head nodded.
“I’m going to be arranging for you to stay with a nice couple when the doctors tell me you are ready to leave. They have taken care of lots of children, I am sure you will fit in well there.”
He managed another nod.
“You won’t be going back home, Nathan, your mom is in a hospital too, but she has to stay, probably for good, so she doesn’t ever try to hurt anyone else.”
She had paused, taken his hand in hers and said softly, “Your mother is sick, Nathan. I looked up her records, we had her in our system from years and years ago. She was an orphan, did you know that?”
He had shook his head. Mother had never talked about the past. Except...
“She sometimes talked about ‘Other Mother.’” His voice was barely a whisper.
Laura had nodded, “Maybe that was the foster family that adopted her. We learned about the abuse after she ran away at seventeen.”
She squeezed his hand, “You aren’t a bad child, Nathan, and your mother, she’s sick. I’m so sorry this happened to you but I promise things are going to get better now. I know you will like your new family, they are so looking forward to meeting you.”
Nathan’s face was wet with tears, the pain pulsed through him, and he said it out loud, his voice hollow and overly loud within the small space.
“She didn’t ever love me. She wanted Immanuel. I was the one who should have died, not him.”
He spoke the words in his coffin, they hung there in the air, but they were 35 years too late. He hadn’t said it to the case worker, he hadn’t even told his wife. No one had known about Immanuel. No one, except for Mother and him. As it was, he barely remembered his brother. Just a handful of cloudy memories. He struggled to remember those last days.
Why had Mother loved Immanuel more? Even with those few wispy memories, there was a disparity. The look in her eyes when she gazed upon his brother. The twist in her mouth when she turned and noticed Nathaniel. There had been a difference, despite them looking and acting alike.
“The difference between you is day and night. He was the sun, but you,” her mad eyes burned into him, across millions of miles of space, “you are nothing but darkness.”
Perhaps, in some unknown way, he had caused this to happen. He mused on that while lying in a hospital room, waiting to be discharged. The nurses were kind. They tousled his hair, brought him treats, spoke to him kindly. And Laura had visited every day, telling him about the new family he would go and live with.
Inside of his coffin on Calypso, Nathan wept. His head felt as if it would burst. He hadn’t remembered, hadn’t thought of those terrible days for so very long. He had buried it. But in the end, he knew the reality of it, the truth about who he was.
“I heard your mama tried to kill you.”
A pinch-faced girl, thin and twitchy, she had been waiting outside of the foster family home, waiting to get him alone.
“Heard you were evil deep inside and your mama tried to make you clean, Nate. Is that true?”
Nate, everyone called him Nate, and they had never asked, just called him that. He compromised by thinking of himself as Nathan, which felt as if it fell somewhere between the two.
Nathaniel shook his head, “No, I’m not bad.”
“I think you are. I think you are filled with the devil and you will kill us all.”
She poked at him with a stick, sneering.
She hadn’t been smiling later. Not when he tripped her with that same stick, causing her to fall down and break her wrist. She had screamed then, but Nathaniel had sworn up and down it had been an accident. No one disbelieved him. Apparently Angelica was anything but angelic. She had avoided him after that and been taken away soon after.
Mother had said that the world would end in fire. But there was more, much more. The more he thought about it, the more he remembered that final visit with her. She had spoken of the end times, Nathan remembered. Devastating plagues, war, and famine. The virus, now there was a plague for you. Mother had said that they all deserved to die. And from what he could see that was exactly what was happening.
What he didn’t understand was why the plague hadn’t affected anyone on board Calypso.
In her saner moments, if they could even be called that, Mother had lectured him. She sometimes forgot her own assertion that Nathaniel had been the cause of his brother’s death. As if Nathaniel had reached into Immanuel’s heart and stopped it in its tracks.
“You have to be a soldier of God, Nathaniel. Sometimes God needs help. He needs you to bring his will forward and apply it to everyone, even if they lack the true faith.”
Her eyes had burned into him, “You must be a soldier of God. Wield your faith like a sword!”
Nathan’s headache suddenly dimmed. As if the light had been turned from the brightest setting down to a mere soft glow. Was he really a soldier of God?
Nathan felt a great piece of his insides giving way. He slipped away, a construct of the loss of his mother and brother. He wasn’t Nathan. He never really had been.
Nathaniel. Immanuel. Soldier of God. He was all of them in one. The others didn’t realize the truth, but he did. They were doomed. They had escaped their fates by happenstance, by some kind of perversion of science over the will of God. It was time he changed that and became the soldier of God Mother wanted him to be.
Nathaniel fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The Center Cannot Hold
“Turning and turning in the widening gyre, the falcon cannot hear the falconer; things fall apart; the center cannot hold; mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.” – W.B. Yeats
Date: 06.16.2099
Earth – Kansas City, Missouri
The line into the terminal at KCMI seemed to stretch into the distance without any discernible end. Eleanor Ridley-Briggs craned her neck, but could see nothing but a sea of backs and heads.
“Any idea what is going on up there, miss?” A short, elderly woman stood in line behind her.
Eleanor shook her head, “Sorry, I can’t see a thing except more people.”
The old woman sighed. “All of our technological advances, but still we end up in long lines. Well I might as well get comfortable.”
She perched on the side of her suitcase, which didn’t look comfortable at all. She smiled up at Eleanor. “So where are you heading off to, my dear?”
Eleanor couldn’t help but smile in return, “I’m actually heading back to Arizona now. I came for my grandparent’s 50th wedding anniversary.” She sighed, “I love it here. It has been a wonderful week, I hate to leave.”
The old woman nodded, “This is home, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I guess it is.”
“Born and raised?”
“Yes, down in Warsend.”
The old woman perked up. “I knew you looked familiar. You are Mary Ridley’s daughter, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am. And you are?”
“Becka Aaronson-Finley,” she chirped, shaking Eleanor’s hand with a surprisingly strong grip. “Your mother was one of my first students. Of course she was Mary Jones at the time. I had just earned my teaching degree and she was in my fourth grade class.”
“Wow, and you remember her?”
“She was hard to forget.” The cryptic response aroused Eleanor’s curiosity. But before she could ask more, Becka began to pepper her with questions.
“So you live in Arizona?”
<
br /> “Yes, Flagstaff.”
“Do you like it?” The old woman’s eyes were a beautiful light blue, her hair still black in places where it hadn’t turned gray.
“Not really.” Eleanor heard the words come out of her mouth and was surprised. She hadn’t really thought of it, the response had just been instant. “I guess I miss spring the most. And the landscape, it is just so barren and empty compared to here.”
Becka nodded. “I feel the same way, I really do.” She sighed, “I was blessed with three lovely children, and my husband and I moved to southern California for a few years, but I just couldn’t enjoy it. It was so dry. I missed my plants and garden so much that we moved back and never left again.”
“I promised my husband I would give it a try. We moved there two years ago and are both professors at Northern Arizona University.”
“You are a professor as well!” The old woman laughed, “That I would not have expected from Mary Ridley’s daughter.”
Now Eleanor found herself very curious, but before she could ask for details, there was a wave of chatter moving down the line. In its wake was a team of airport personnel with a small machine on wheels. Eleanor couldn’t quite see what they were doing, but the people in front of her were repeating what they had heard from the people ahead of them.
A blond, statuesque woman in front of Eleanor asked the man at her side, “But, why would they need to take our temperatures?”
“That weird virus, the one that the scientist, and several others, died from, they all had fevers. Almost undetectable, just slightly above normal. Jesus, I wonder if they will stop anyone with a body temp above 98.6 from getting on the plane.”
He looked around concerned, leaned in and whispered to his wife, “Drink more of the ice water, babe, I don’t want to miss visiting the new Disney-Pixar theme park!”
“If I drink any more water, Harold, I’ll have to pee.” The woman pointed to the restrooms in the distance, “And they are making anyone who leaves their place in line go to the end of the line.”
The two began to bicker, voices rising.
“What’s happening?” Becka asked, tugging on Eleanor’s sleeve.
“It looks like they are taking everyone’s temperatures.”
Becka nodded and shrugged, “Well, I guess we will just visit a while longer while they get around to taking ours. So your husband, tell me about him.”
“Andy? Well, let’s see. We met in college and married soon after we graduated. He spent most of his childhood moving from one city or town to another, all across the country. He really loves Flagstaff.”
“And he hopes you will too?”
Eleanor nodded ruefully, “He hopes, but I guess I just miss home. Even walking the sidewalks reminds me of how different it is. In the winter they use a fine gravel to add traction through the snow. It remains year round and walking on it reminds me of nails on a chalkboard. And none of my mother’s bread or cake recipes work right due to the high elevation.”
Becka shook her head, “It sounds dreadful.”
“I shouldn’t complain,” Eleanor said, looking embarrassed, “It just isn’t home. I’m never reminded of that more as when I come back for a visit.”
“I will be visiting my youngest son, if they ever let us board the plane.” The old woman smiled, “I have a new grandson to meet.”
“Why congratulations!”
“Congratulate me after I survive the trip. I’m not terribly fond of this daughter-in-law, I’m afraid.”
Eleanor managed a rueful expression, “I’m pretty darn sure that my husband’s mother feels the same about me.”
“It looks like we should have an answer soon,” Becka said, gesturing towards the front of the line.
A small cart was drawing closer, a thermometer and digital readout prominently displayed. Behind it, the line split to the left and increased sharply, while those few who were directed to the right-hand side quickly disappeared into the distance.
Could all of the people on the left be sick? How widespread was this virus?
The blond, and her husband, were both shuttled to the left. And then it was Eleanor’s turn.
The airline attendant placed the thermometer covered in a disposable sheath in Eleanor’s mouth. A short three seconds passed and the machine beeped.
“Ninety-eight point four,” the attendant read aloud. “Are there any more in your party?”
Eleanor shook her head, “No.”
“Please move ahead to the right-hand lane and continue to your gate.”
Eleanor paused long enough to call over her shoulder to Becka, “Best of luck!”
“Thank you dear, best of luck to you! And tell your mother hello, I’m sure she remembers me well!”
She may have passed the screening, but in the end, Eleanor never made it off the tarmac. She sat in a plane that was three-quarters empty for nearly two hours before the pilot updated her and the other passengers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the delays. We have received word from Air Control that all commercial travel has been suspended at this time. I am sure that this is a short-term measure, but for now we are being ordered to ground all domestic and international flights. This is a state of emergency issued by President Chen himself. Please retrieve your belongings and exit the plane in an orderly fashion after the plane has returned to the terminal.”
Before the captain had even finished speaking, phones flashed, and a low drone of voices could be heard throughout the cabin. Eleanor sighed and called Andy first, leaving a message. He was probably finishing up his class right about now.
“Hi honey, they grounded all flights. I’ll call you when I get back home with my parents.”
Then she dialed her parents.
“Dad, they’ve grounded all flights. I’m sorry to make you drive all the way back, but...”
“Don’t worry about it, honey, we are close. Your mother was starving, so we stopped for a bite to eat. I can be there in ten minutes. Just look for us outside near the terminal entrance.”
Her dad’s voice was reassuring and Eleanor smiled at the thought of spending a few more days with them. After all, the state of emergency wouldn’t last long and she was pretty sure she had detected a bit of relief in her dad’s voice. He missed her more than he would admit.
A few minutes after she called, their car inched into sight, easily pulling into a parking spot as passengers from other flights streamed towards the light rail hub or filled the last of the autocar rentals, desperate to find room at local hotels.
During the car ride back, Dad said nothing and turned the radio to the local news while Mom, sat beside him, chewing her fingernails and systematically swallowing them, as they all listened in silence to the broadcast, which was simple, short, and terrifying.
“President Gary Chen of the Reformed United States of America, in conjunction with the CDC, has declared a state of emergency and instituted a travel ban effective immediately. The ESH virus is highly contagious. Return to your homes, all urban areas are now under quarantine. If you are traveling or away from home, you need to report to the nearest refugee camp for intake and health assessment.”
The message repeated every thirty seconds on all channels.
Eleanor couldn’t stop thinking about the hundreds of scared faces in the airport. What was going to happen to all of them?
Normally the trip from the airport to Warsend took around 40 minutes. Instead of sliding through traffic at the posted 65 miles per hour, the Ridley’s found themselves inching along, minutes turning into hours, and the highway slowly narrowing to one lane, as they moved into a phalanx of tanks and armed soldiers.
The Richards-Gebaur Air Reserve Station, closed at the turn of the past century, had been revamped in the past thirty years and turned into a visitor’s center along with a small unit of active service members.
“Reminds me of Grandpa’s stories of the Collapse,” Dad remarked, as they crawled along. “Getting the military
involved,” he let out a troubled whoof of air. “This isn’t good, not at all.”
The car inched by one scene of mayhem, a motorist flailing and resisting several soldiers, yelling that his rights were being violated as he was dragged from a car, his wife and children screaming in panic.
Eleanor’s fear mounted. Any moment now their car would be stopped and their identity chips scanned. Would they pull her screaming out of the car as well? Her home address was in Flagstaff, Arizona now, not Warsend, Missouri. What if they decided she couldn’t stay?
As if in answer to her fears, her dad spoke, “You aren’t going to any camp, Sweetie, you are going home with us.”
At the exit for Warsend, another group of soldiers stopped her parents’ car. Eleanor was certain that this was it, they would surely stop her and insist she be placed in one of the quarantine zones. Thankfully, one of the soldiers was a familiar face.
A boy she had gone to school with, she couldn’t remember his name, but he smiled when he saw her, “Ellie Ridley! I haven’t seen you in ages!”
Eleanor managed a weak smile back and tried desperately to remember his name, seeing his face so clearly in her memories, backlit against lockers and hallways. Chemistry class, perhaps? There was no time to figure it out.
The car behind them began to race its engine and honk, the driver clearly irate, and her classmate turned soldier waved their car on, intent on dealing with the troublemaker behind the Ridley’s car. Eleanor and her parents were soon safely back home.
In the days and weeks to come, the entire area, including Warsend, was full of violence and fear. The virus spread like wildfire, driving its victims to a state of unreasonable hunger, devoid of any calming influence. Food stores dwindled and tempers flared. By the fifth day, a full panic ensued as all of the nearby grocery stores ran out of provisions. By the end of the second week, it wasn’t safe, inside or out.
Each day, she had checked in with Andy. The first week he was in fine spirits, but obviously missing her. The second week saw an ominous change, not just in Eleanor’s immediate surroundings, but hundreds of miles away.
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