Dead Aware

by Eleanor Merry

  World News:

  FIRE (Fever Induced Rapid Encephalitis) is the name on everyone's lips regarding the recent epidemic sweeping across the globe. Several countries have enacted curfews in addition to other preventative measures to avoid the spread of the infection. While there are no reports outside of continental Europe and Asia, the highly contagious nature of this virus makes it likely that it will surface on other continents soon.

  While we are still unsure of the fatality level of this virus, the rate of infection and high fever caused by the virus have made health care professionals around the globe concerned. W.H.O., the World Health Organization, are currently studying the virus and will provide updates as they know more.

  ATTENTION CITIZENS OF CANADA:

  The encephalitic virus dubbed FIRE has been sweeping its way across the globe. Initial reports came from Delhi, India, but about a week ago the first report in North America occurred in New York. Thunder Bay, Ontario was affected only a day later. At this time, W.H.O. is working around the clock to determine more of this virus’s origins and possible effects. However, in the interim, they have advised that all citizens remain indoors wherever possible and stay away from anyone who is exhibiting signs of illness. We will provide updates when we have more information on how it is spread. However, please be aware of the following symptoms: fever, lethargy, vomiting, diarrhea, photophobia, confusion, aggression, and seizures.

  CANADA EMERGENCY BROADCAST UPDATE:

  Reports of death caused by the FIRE virus have been coming in since yesterday. As we all know, it is highly contagious and seems to be airborne. Reports indicate that about 75% of those infected with the virus are dying within seven days of contraction, generally due to viral encephalitis. If anyone around you is showing a decline, it is strongly recommended that you remove yourselves from the vicinity immediately. Reports of those dying from the virus and getting up again have been coming in. While we have not verified anything at this time, we encourage citizens to remain vigilant.

  The transmission cut off, and after that, the broadcasts ceased as communication systems went down over most of North America.

  Max opened his eyes to a muted and slightly stained hotel room ceiling. He stared upwards for several minutes, still not mentally aware, even though he was awake physically. Finally blinking, he turned his head slightly, taking in the cheap hotel room around him.

  Beige walls surrounded him, accented by the grime and filth underneath which covered both himself and the bed he laid on. Lifting his head slightly, Max took in the reds, pinks, and other vivid colours surrounding him. For a moment, the brightness mesmerized him as his brain processed the spectrum. He blinked again and frowned, looking upwards.

  His head felt foggy and unsure, and he couldn’t recall who he was, much less anything else. Straining his mind, he tried to recall where he was or why he was there, but he quickly came up short.

  Unsure of what to do, Max tried to turn his body to pull himself off the bed, but overestimated his readiness. With a heavy thump, he tumbled off, not hurt but surprised by the suddenness with which he hit the floor. He shook himself off and pushed up off his hands.

  Unsatisfied with his reaction time, but not quite comprehending what he was expecting, he finally managed to pull himself up to a sitting position back on the bed. Taking a moment to take stock, he looked down at his body and arms as he flexed his hands. Before waking up, what was different?

  Inch by inch, he moved his whole body, analyzing his own movements and responses, before finally daring to stand again. Grinning as he was successful, he shambled around the room aimlessly, getting used to his clumsy legs.

  An hour later, after wandering the room, Max came to recognize the door. He stood several feet away, head cocked, as he stared.

  Door.

  The word vaguely floated through his mind as he stared, concentrating hard.

  Out.

  He continued staring until he was pulled from his reverie by noises outside. Curious, he shambled over to the window to see what he was hearing.

  The window was already open a few inches. However, Max couldn’t seem to figure out how to make it open further. Pressing his nose to the glass and his ear to the open crack, he listened and watched.

  Down below on the streets, he could see two groups of people. One of the groups seemed frantic, hiding behind big metal objects and shouting. The other group seemed to have a similar detriment to Max as they slowly approached the opposing group.

  Max listened intently to the sounds drifting through the opening, trying to make sense of the noises coming from the one group. The idea that he should be able to understand them was a strong feeling. However, he quickly became more frustrated as he found himself unable to comprehend the words.

  A few gunshots went off as the noisy group ran the other way, their voices fading into the distance while the shamblers trudged along behind them.

  As Max watched them leave, he contemplated the vague triggers the voices had caused within his mind. Frustration filled him again and he shouted and banged his hand against the window.

  By day two, his hunger had reached new heights. Earlier, he found some partially rotten food under a tray, which he had quickly devoured. He then started to look in the small attached room for more food. Finding a source of water, he drank his fill and was satiated for the moment. When he turned around, he saw something that surprised him. It was someone staring back at him in the mirror.

  Max grunted a bit, walking up to it with his hand forward, reaching out to touch the person he was seeing. He knew it was himself really, but somehow his mind couldn’t accept that logic.

  He saw curly brown hair which was greasy and sticking out in all different directions. What really stood out was his skin, alabaster and devoid of colour other than brown fuzz covering his cheeks. There were a few thick veins that stood out against the paleness of his skin, and his lips were only slightly darker with a bit of a blue tinge.

  And vivid blue eyes that stared straight back at him.

  It wasn’t what he expected to see. As he stared at himself, he wasn’t sure what else he should have expected. He just knew it was wrong, different.

  After that, he didn’t look in that part of the room again and took to spending most of his time standing by the window, alternating between watching outside and looking at the door. After days of this passed, he heard more noises, but this time coming from the other side of the door. His stomach growled as he made his way across the room.

  Chapter 3

  In the days leading up to her death, Clara thought a lot about Max. She thought about what she would give to go back and beg him to stay. Would it have made a difference, she wondered, or would she still have died, just together?

  The phones and the internet had been down for a few days now, so she had no way of contacting Max or knowing if he was okay. Electricity flickered in and out since the emergency broadcasts started. Clara had first secured the house and did what she could to prepare for what the news was calling the FIRE Virus. The first time Clara heard that name she shuddered, her inner nurse horrified at an illness that sounded so morbid and all-consuming.

  Clara called Max at his hotel in a panic when she first heard the news. He had already been gone for two days and wasn’t scheduled to come home for another five. “When will you get home?” she sniffled into the phone.

  Max sighed, “It’ll be okay, sweetie. It’ll just be a few days until the government gets a handle on this thing. I’ll see about renting a car and driving home if I have to. One way or another, I will come home to you, Clara. I promise.”

  The first reports were of illness outside of Delhi. Images of full hospitals and sick people filled every station. This was quickly followed by most of Europe, and the spread continued quickly. For a different reason now, it was a relief that she didn’t have any work to go to, and she ended up watching a lot of news. It was terrifying and depressing and she understood that for any illness to spread so fast w
as incredibly unusual—and extremely dangerous. When she spoke with Max on the phone, he told her not to leave the house, he would be home within a few days, and everything would be fine.

  It was then that the government stepped in and decided to put a halt to commercial air travel to prevent the spread of the disease. Even with so much news coverage, it seemed they knew little about the virus or how it started. The attempts being made spoke of desperation. The only thing they did seem certain of was that it was highly contagious, and quite likely airborne. No one wanted the virus going further. Multiple governments, working with the World Healthcare Organization, were taking extreme measures to prevent further spread. Of course, they were too late, and it hit New York only a few days later.

  It wasn’t long after that mobile networks went down, constantly showing nothing but a ‘Not In Service’ message. Clara’s landline had a dial tone, but nothing connected, no matter which phone number she tried. She wondered if the flickering electricity would be gone soon as well.

  She got very lonely, and despite her misgivings, she had gone out a few times to check on the neighbors and find out what was happening.

  A few people in their neighborhood had left before the news reports and broadcasts started getting more serious. Families planned to go to their cabins and other getaways to escape from cities, people, contagion. The streets were quiet, and it felt like the entire city was taking a deep breath. The calm before the storm.

  There were several people that had stayed behind for various reasons, including their neighbor, Diana Waverly, who was an older woman that lived alone on the other side of their duplex. Her husband had died years before they had moved in, and Clara often went over and sat with her and kept her company over tea. It was comforting to them both to have someone to talk to. Diana reminded Clara of her own mother, who had passed away almost a decade ago now.

  After the miscarriage, Clara had stopped going to visit. But once the virus hit she worried about how the older woman was doing and went over, despite Max’s instruction to stay in, to make sure her neighbor was okay.

  Shortly after arriving at Diana’s, Clara realized how little food and water the woman had and knew her own pantry was not much better. Not heeding the warning bells ringing in her head, she went out to the store for both of them and was not a little terrified at how chaotic it was. The people who were out seemed frantic and fearful and no one spoke to one another. A miasma of hopelessness hung over the area sucking all good thoughts and feelings out of the air like a vacuum.

  She hurriedly grabbed some pasta, canned foods and water and rushed back home as quickly as she could.

  Diana, despite being a homebody, had gotten sick only the day after Clara had returned with supplies. While Clara did what she could for her friend, she couldn’t do anything for the burning fever or seizures that plagued her. She considering leaving the city and heading out to a friend’s farm for antibiotics; she knew they kept a large supply for their livestock. Before Diana progressed any further, she took a bottle of pills one night after Clara went home and fell asleep painlessly. Clara found her the next morning.

  With no alternative, Clara placed a blanket over the Diana’s body and left the apartment.

  By that evening, she too had started coughing.

  What started as a runny nose and cough quickly developed into a burning fever with vomiting and diarrhea. Her eyes seared in her skull, and she screamed in pain as the sensation shot down her neck and spine. For the first few days, she did her best to take care of herself, but by day five she was wavering in and out of consciousness. At first, she was disgusted with the state of the bed and herself, which were now covered in feces, urine and vomit. By the end, she was beyond caring. Even if she had cared, she wasn’t capable of doing anything about it.

  As she lay in bed in those final days, unable to even get herself a glass of water, Clara thought of her time with Max and all the memories they had made. More than anything she wished he was there, holding her. Clara knew if she was going to die, all she wanted was to be with him. He had promised to come home, but he hadn’t. She didn’t even know if he was still alive or not. Now she would die alone, in their bed, with nothing but her memories and a spoiled blanket. And the pictures.

  When she had still been able to move, she had gotten some of their photo albums. She found herself grateful for the love of scrapbooking she had inherited from her mother, otherwise their memories would be lost along with the technology age. Photos were spread out around her, reminders of so many beautiful days. The first time they met, their first vacation, Max proposing, their Vegas wedding, their first ultrasound….

  At the end, most of the pictures were ruined, covered in various disgusting bodily fluids. They crumpled under her body as it shuddered in its final throes. One picture she had held on to through it all—a simple photo of her and Max smiling, at the front door of their first house. She gasped for breath and heat burned behind her eyes as Clara held the photo to her chest and took her last breath.

  Waking up had been a strange sensation for Clara. Her first impression had been one of hunger, followed very shortly by confusion. Of loss. Whether it was something, or someone, that she lost, she didn’t know. She just knew she was hungry, lonely, and didn’t know what had happened. Opening her eyes, she looked around and tried to remember who she was or where she was. Or what she was. She could smell the filthy sheets beneath her, but in this state, it didn’t register as a bad smell. Just a smell.

  She sat up and looked around, realizing she was holding something in her hand. She looked down at the picture, and while she couldn’t quite remember why, she knew it was important for some reason. Clara slipped the picture into her robe pocket and moaned slightly as she got up to go in search of something to eat.

  Her stomach moaned along with her.

  Chapter 4

  Max stared at the door with interest as he listened to the sounds on the other side, which seemed to be getting closer. After being inside this room for a few days he was very curious about anything new, especially noises. A few times he had heard different sounds in the distance, either from the window or distantly through the walls, but this was different. Grunting, he put his ear against the door to hear better.

  Suddenly, the door swung open, pushing Max down as a quick, small body crashed into his. The heavy door slammed shut behind them and fists began pounding on it almost immediately. Max looked up and saw a youth of maybe thirteen staring at him, complete and abject horror in his eyes. Suddenly, Max smelled the tantalizing scent that had been drifting under the doors. In that moment, he realized it was coming from the boy.

  Food?

  He growled as the boy scrambled off him, backing into the corner. As Max willed his worthless body to get up, the boy saw his opportunity and ran past him into the bathroom. He slammed the door before Max could get to him. A lock clicked as Max reached the door. He banged on it a few times, mostly to compare it to the other door that had so far stymied him. While this door seemed lighter, he somehow knew he wouldn’t have any more success with brute force on this one. He snarled in anger and smacked his hand against it one more time before walking back to the other door that he had wanted to get out of in the first place.

  He could still hear shouts on the other side, and Max absently wondered who the boy had been running from. He listened for a quite a while before the sounds faded, although he was careful to not stay too close to the door this time in case someone else came in.

  As soon as the room quieted, small sniffles could be heard coming from the bathroom. Max tried thumping on the door one more time and was rewarded with a small scream from the other side. Frowning, he tried it again, but this time he was greeted with silence.

  A few hours later, Max was resting on the bed when he heard quiet whispers coming from the bathroom. This time, he recognized it for what it was.

  Speech.

  Words.

  Comprehension?

  He walked back over to t
he bathroom and listened.

  “Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven,”

  Listening to the boy pray, Max felt an emotion that, while strangely familiar, was foreign in his current state. He still felt hunger, but The Smell from under the door seemed to have diminished, and with it his heightened sense of anxiety and anger. His brain started to make connections it hadn’t before, and he pressed his ear against the door, eager to trigger more.

  “And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. Amen.”

  Max heard a loud sigh.

  “Please, God, just…Fucking help me in here.”

  Max felt the urge to respond to the boy and opened his mouth to say something, but only a small moan escaped. He frowned. I should be able to do this, he thought. I used to be able to do this.

  Determined, he thought for a moment, and his brain rewarded him with a word. Opening his mouth once more he tried a greeting,

  “Haaihfgghthgfft.”

  Silence on the other side of the door.

  It felt like his mind knew what he wanted to say, but his mouth just wouldn’t cooperate. Frustrated, he tried again.

  “Yahufsahhii.”

  The boy in the bathroom put his ear up against the door. As unbelievable as it seemed to him, he felt like the creature on the other side was trying to talk.

  Before ending up at the hotel, the boy had been on the run for almost a week since his parents died. He had left almost immediately, and it didn’t take him long to realize his parents likely were not dead any longer. At least, not in the traditional sense.

  He had been very careful and had managed to mostly avoid run-ins with what he was pretty sure were zombies. With avoiding them also came a lot of hiding. That meant he had managed to observe their behavior quite a bit. While he had seen some of them do surprising things (at least compared to the comic books he used to read and shows he used to watch, where the undead were always just slow and stupid), he had yet to hear one talk. He wondered, if he went back home, would his parents would try to talk to him too?