by Jack Hunt
Frank switched off the TV; he had heard enough to realize the gravity of the situation. This was it, the big one. If this was the flu that was liable to take down humanity, he sure as hell wasn’t going to go down without a fight. He tossed the clicker on the couch and headed off to grab the list he’d made of items he needed.
“Right, let’s go.”
“What are you on about, Frank?”
“I’m heading into town to get supplies. I figure we have probably around six to twelve hours before news gets around and widespread panic sets in.”
Sal began to laugh. “Okay, hold on a second. People aren’t going to panic.”
“What the hell do you think I’m doing?”
“You always panic.”
“Ah, point taken but still, don’t you want to get a head start? Alert your wife, kids and head off to some cabin in the mountains.”
“Mountains?”
Sal walked over to him and gripped him by the arm. Frank felt his skin crawl. He stared at Sal’s hand and he released it and stepped back.
“Remember, Sal, six feet. Keep six feet away from people.”
“You are going overboard. Relax. Let’s just take a breather for a moment.”
Frank passed by him and opened the door. “Sure, you breathe here, I’ll breathe when I get back.”
With that said he began making his way down to the boat dock. He had only gone a few feet outside when he realized he’d forgotten his mask. He returned and squeezed past Sal and snagged up a bag of masks off the counter.
“You want to lock up or should I?” Frank asked.
Sal sighed. “I’m coming with you.”
“I’m telling you, Sal. This is it, buddy. I hope you have your affairs in order.”
“You make it sound like we’re going to die.”
“We are. Haven’t you been paying attention?”
He trudged on, making his way down the steps with a thin jacket on and a mask over the lower half of his face. It would be a quick journey into Clayton. It was a small town with just over five thousand people. Mostly known for being the main railroad terminus for the Thousand Islands region, it attracted tourists in the summer months, all of which bothered Frank to no end. Tourists meant crowds, which meant the chances of getting a disease increased.
As they crossed the choppy waters, and bounced in their seats, the look of concern on Sal’s face was unmistakable. All these years he had been trying to get Frank to think of anything but disease, contamination and germs and here he was entering his world and beginning to feel the sense of dread that Frank felt on a daily basis. He didn’t find it amusing, how could anyone find a pandemic amusing? In Frank’s mind it was like being told a tsunami was about to hit the mainland. He could see the wave of disease wiping out people and leaving the landscape scattered with devastation.
He watched as Sal pulled out his phone and tried to stay calm talking to his wife. He would glance over at Frank probably expecting him to make light of it, or think of him as a fool but he didn’t. He focused on the harbor that they were getting close to. Lost in thought about what Kate had said, and the fact that she wasn’t going to be leaving Atlanta, he only worried more. It wasn’t like he didn’t care for her now that she had found someone, he did, but allowing his emotions to cloud his judgment wasn’t going to help. He needed to get into town, get supplies and gas, and head back to the safety of his island.
“Yes, just pick up the kids.”
There was silence, only the sounds of waves, the wind and a light mist hitting their faces.
“I don’t know where, I need to talk to Frank. Yes. I will be in touch shortly.”
After getting off the phone he cleared his throat and Frank could tell he wanted to ask him. He already knew the question. At first he circled around it, bringing up the topic of Ella and trying to act like he was still in control of the situation. That’s how he always portrayed himself: in control. Yet now he was on the other end, and the world around him was beginning to feel much the way it did to Frank — a scary place.
“So. I was wondering—”
“Yes, you can all stay with me.”
“How did you—”
“You are predictable, Sal, and as much as you know me, I know you.” He smirked and gunned the engine hard.
SIX
From the moment Frank’s boots hit Clayton harbor, he eyed everyone with suspicion. There were forty-nine boat slips and with it being the summer, they were packed. People came from all over the USA and Canada, docking for a few days at a time. The marina had full amenities, electricity, water, WiFi, laundry, restrooms and showers. With so many tourists, there was no telling who might be infected. Bob Riley was chatting with a local fisherman when he spotted them. He gave a two-finger salute and continued chatting as though it was just another day. To him it was. That was all about to change. On one hand, Frank wanted to alert locals to what was going on but he didn’t for various reasons. There was a chance that it wouldn’t make its way this far north, then there was the glaring fact that folks in the town were used to seeing him with a mask on. He’d gained a name for himself as being a bit of a loon, an outsider who was missing a few screws up top. So even if he said anything, they wouldn’t have believed him. Second, if in the slim possibility that they did, people might panic and start stocking up and then the stores would be cleared out. Right now they had the advantage. Get in and out before anyone knows.
On the other hand, he had to wonder if people already knew. As they made their way over to the parking lot, Frank glanced at the many people walking around with their heads down looking at their phones. Were they reading the news? Watching a video about people dropping like flies? Or were they trying to figure out what to stock up on? He fished into his pocket for his anxiety meds, and tapped out a couple before tossing them back.
“Deep breaths, Frank, deep breaths,” Sal said.
“We’ll take my truck, there’s more room,” Frank said glancing over at Sal’s tiny little hatchback. Once Frank unlocked the truck, he told Sal to hold on a minute while he went around the back and pulled out a roll of what looked like tracing paper. He went back to the cab and yanked off what was already on the seats and placed down a fresh covering.
“Isn’t that what they use in doctor’s offices?”
“Yeah, I picked it up last week from Office Depot. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before.”
Once the seats were covered, he gestured to Sal to hop in. Frank then spent a few seconds sanitizing his hands and rubbing an alcohol wipe around his steering wheel before turning over the engine and pulling out. The first stop on his list was the supermarket to pick up groceries.
“You’d think by now people would be hustling.”
“Be realistic, Frank, even if people do see the news reports, very few are going to take it seriously and even fewer will take precautionary measures. Most will wait until the last minute.”
“By then it will be too late.”
“Most don’t see it that way. From what we know this thing isn’t airborne so the chances of it making its way here are pretty slim.”
“And yet you are worried about your family and kids,” Frank said, shooting him a sideways glance. Sal didn’t reply. The truck rumbled on into the parking lot of Clayton Shurfine Supermarket.
From the moment they went inside, Frank looked up and down the aisles like he was on a military operation. He shot out orders to Sal as if their lives depended on it. He had even given Sal his own cart. “Okay, bud, grab jerky, granola bars and powdered milk. I will meet you back here in exactly five minutes.” He stood with his finger on the button of his watch expecting Sal to synchronize with him. Sal just shook his head and strolled off. That didn’t stop him from doing it. He scooted up the aisle, tossing all manner of things into the cart, mostly stuff that wouldn’t spoil like ramen noodles, bouillon, hot cocoa, several bottles of alcohol, lots of peanut butter, salt, crackers, rice, honey, dried beans and piles of canned foo
d. All the while he was thinking of the next stop on his list.
By the time both of them made it to the checkout, they looked as if they were shopping for a small army.
“Please tell me you don’t have coupons,” the grumpy-looking teenager said behind the register.
“Just MasterCard.”
“Thank god for that. I just had some woman come in and buy four hundred dollars’ worth of food and pay for the entire lot with coupons. We had to close this checkout down because it took so damn long.”
Frank’s brow knit together. “Who was that?”
“How the hell would I know?”
Frank tossed Sal a look and shook his head. For the past eighteen years, Frank had been living in Clayont and though he generally kept to himself, it was hard to go about your life without seeing the same faces. Once they were all paid up, they picked up the pace and dumped all the groceries in the back of the truck and then headed over to the hardware and camping store.
“What do you need here?”
Frank handed him the list.
“You think it’s wise to buy all this from the same store?”
“We don’t have time to go from store to store and anyway, folks in this town don’t seem to be in any hurry.”
When Frank and Sal piled the maps, a sewing kit, two hiking backpacks, multiple sleeping bags, a compass, lighters, fire steel, waterproof matches, axe, flares, signal mirror, ham radio, whistle, tarp and numerous other items on the counter, Butch Guthrie stared down at it and then his eyes darted between them. Frank felt a bead of sweat streak down his back.
“Going on a camping trip, Frank?”
“Um. Yeah, family getaway.”
He sniffed and started ringing up the items one by one. Butch Guthrie was one man that he kind of figured could survive an apocalypse. Six foot, a thick beard, wearing a plaid shirt and construction boots, he looked as though he had been born in a forest. Besides running the hardware and camping store, which had been in his family for over thirty years, he was a serious prepper who ran survival training courses four times a year. Frank never felt like he needed to go, as every visit to the store over the years had been a lecture on how to survive the worst-case scenarios. Butch reminded him of that guy at the gym, the one that would come up and give people tips even if they didn’t want them. That was just his way. He couldn’t seem to shut it off. On the side of his truck he had a sticker that advertised his training. “Guthrie’s Survival Course — Because You Never Know…”
If anyone had kept an eye on the news it would have been him. Frank wasn’t going to be able to pull the wool over his eyes, he knew all the telltale signs of someone getting ready for something big.
“Oh yeah, whereabouts?”
There it was. He knew it was coming. Butch was going to dig into him and get him to spill the beans. “Oh, down in one of the state parks.”
“Which one? I’ve been to a lot.”
God, he hated it when people asked for specifics. It was the quickest way to find out if someone was lying, and Butch was notorious for badgering a person until he got answers. Frank was certain he did it just so he could find another opportunity to slip in some survival tip.
“Um, I’m not really sure, actually. It’s kind of a last-minute decision.”
“I wouldn’t have thought you would be the kind of man for camping.”
“Why not?”
“Well, with your troubles and all.”
That was how he referred to those who showed any signs of weakness or mental illness. Troubles. It was a polite way of saying Frank was a nutcase with issues.
“Sal’s coming with me. Isn’t that right, Sal? It’s kind of family camping slash therapy.”
“Ah, well I hope you have some good weather.”
He stopped ringing up items and looked out the window absently. “Your ex-wife, Frank. She works in medicine, right?”
Here we go, he thought.
“CDC, epidemiologist.”
He nodded, and continued ringing up the next item. “She heard much about this flu going around?”
“What flu?” Frank tried to act ignorant and yet by the look on Butch’s face he wasn’t buying it.
“You telling me she hasn’t told you about it? You not seen the news?”
He stopped for a second to turn on the TV behind him. He flicked through the channels until it landed on the news. Frank closed his eyes and counted backwards from ten. It was something he’d learned to do when he was in the military. A way for him to calm his mind in situations that were stressful.
“Oh, yeah, that looks like it could be bad. Good thing they have put quarantining into effect,” Sal added.
Butch stopped and stared at Sal like he was trying to read his mind or fathom his competency. He was holding a hunting knife in his hand. He shook it in front of him. “Don’t buy everything they tell you on the TV. You can bet your ass they already knew about this a month or two ago. I wouldn’t be surprised if people had already died and they were just biding their time searching for a cure.”
Frank knew what he was saying was true as Kate had told him that numerous times. The CDC officials were always ahead of the game. They knew the threat levels, they knew how many had died and it was within their power to determine what the media knew. That’s why he wasn’t waiting for them to announce on the TV that major cities were being quarantined, or that martial law might go into effect.
“Um, Butch, you think you can speed it up? I have an appointment.”
Butch chuckled. “Don’t we all.”
He looked at him like he was a complete idiot. There was something about him that never sat well with Frank. A sense that he thought he was better than other people because of what he knew. Sure, people were prone to leave things to the last minute but not everyone had a father who was anti-government, or a family that were preppers.
Frank tried to change the topic.
“How’s your place? You getting out there this summer?”
Butch had a property on Grindstone Island. That’s where he did his survivalist training camps, and on occasion would visit in the summer months.
“It’s all right. And yours?”
“I’m over there at the moment,” Frank muttered.
He suddenly felt his stomach turn within him. You shouldn’t have said that. Don’t tell people where you are, you idiot. Shit.
“Maybe I’ll drop by some time.”
Frank pursed his lips together and smiled but didn’t say that would be good. It wouldn’t be good. He didn’t trust him as far as he could throw him. Despite running a store in town, he was known to get into brawls and had more run-ins with the law than anyone should. The Guthrie family was synonymous with being troublemakers.
Sal helped Frank load up the items into boxes, then he paid up and headed out. As they piled what they had bought into the back of the truck, Frank caught Butch looking out of the store window. Frank nudged Sal and he looked over.
“Okay, now I’m officially creeped out,” Sal said before getting into the truck.
The last stop on their list was at gun store across the road. He wanted to pick up a handgun, and get some more ammo. If the shit did hit the fan, this was one place that was going to be wiped out immediately. The bell above the door let out a shrill as they entered. Jim Eckard was tending to a customer from behind a large glass counter that stretched the full length of the room. Inside were all types of handguns, while along the back wall were rifles and shotguns.
“You ever used a gun before, Sal?”
“Can’t say I have.”
Sal wasn’t your typical guy that enjoyed to hunt or fire off a few rounds down at the firing range. He presented himself as someone who rarely got his hands dirty, the kind of man that would have paid someone else to paint his home instead of doing it himself. He was timid, at least he looked that way on the surface.
“How are you, Jim?” Frank said from behind his masked face.
“I’ll be right wit
h you.”
They browsed the store, and once Jim was done with the other customer he went about getting what Frank needed. After they left the store with a brand-new Glock, an M4 tactical shotgun and a duffel bag full of ammo, Frank was beginning to feel better. His anxiety had been through the roof when they arrived but now it had dropped to about a three. When they returned to the truck, he noticed that Butch and a few of his brothers were outside the store. There were two trucks. The brothers were wearing camo gear. Rarely ever did he see them in anything that didn’t resemble something related to hunting. They lived and breathed it. Sal was in the cab when Frank saw them looking over. He was beginning to think that they were clued into what was going on.
“You ready to pick up the wife and kids?” Frank asked returning to the cab but keeping his eyes on the Guthrie brothers.
“She doesn’t get off work for another hour.”
“You might want to tell her to leave early.”
“Why?”
He gestured with his head in the direction of the Guthrie family. Butch had gone back inside and put up a closed sign.
“You would think that he would want to make the money.”
“What good is money if you aren’t going to be alive to spend it,” Frank said shifting gears and peeling out of there.
BACK IN ATLANTA, Kate had been called into a boardroom along with a number of staff so her boss Trish Kenwood could provide them with an update on the current situation. Murmurs spread across the room. Police were in attendance, along with several doctors, military officials and Atlanta’s mayor.
“Quiet down, everyone. As you know, patients are showing symptoms that are usually equated with the flu within the first fourteen hours after onset. By seventeen hours the mental state of the patient appears to have been altered, and the symptoms escalate to blood coming from the mouth and eyes. This is then followed by excruciating pain, seizures and then death around nineteen hours. We appear to have traced those who came in contact with patient zero but it’s unknown at this time who they have come in contact with.”
