Wiping the blood away from his face, Damian took off, walking rapidly across the parking lot, heading towards the street.
“We'll be right behind you,” called out Matt. “We've got to get the bags of food.”
Damian didn't stop or slow down. Apparently he was pissed off about the mugging and just wanted to get the hell out of there. As far as Matt could tell, it was understandable.
“Why don't you catch up to him?” said Matt, speaking to Mia. “Jamie and I will grab the bags of food.”
“OK,” said Mia brightly, immediately starting to half-skip, half-run towards Damian.
Jamie gave a little laugh as she watched her friend dash off.
“She's a little... weird, isn't she?” said Matt.
Jamie just made a noncommittal noise of agreement. “Hey,” he said, as they made it back to the bags of food, grabbed them, and shouldered them. Matt had two of them and Jamie had one of them. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” said Matt, expecting a question about their dating history, about why he'd given her a key, or about why they hadn't spoken at all at the office since their last date.
But instead, she asked him something completely different. “Do you trust Damian?”
“Trust Damian? What do you mean?”
“About the mugging.”'
“You think he didn't get mugged. You think he just beat himself up or something?”
“No, I mean about the veins of the attackers. Maybe they were infected. I know it crossed your mind. Or else you wouldn't have asked him about the veins.”
“Yeah, I thought it was a possibility,” said Matt. “But I mean, I know Damian. He wouldn't lie about that. Not about a life-or-death situation like that...”
“Even if it was his own life?” said Jamie. “Even if he were lying to save his own life?”
Matt didn't know what to say. So he let the question hang in the air as they walked, trash bags over their shoulders, across the parking lot towards the street.
Would Damian really have done something like that?
Would he really lie to save his own skin?
Matt thought about what he himself might do. He already knew the answer. He wouldn't lie if it meant jeopardizing anyone else. He just knew it in his bones. That wasn't the sort of person he was.
And Damian?
Well, he was pretty sure Damian wouldn't do that.
Maybe not 100 percent sure.
But what choice did Matt really have? He had to trust his friend. There was no other option.
9
Judy
Judy was a tough woman. She didn't take shit from anyone.
Well, anyone except her son, Damian.
Her only son.
He was a good kid. Not really a kid, at all. He was in his late twenties. Twenty-nine to be exact. But he'd always be a kid to her.
For some reason, Damian had just never really seemed to get his life together. Before he'd gotten this most recent office job, she'd been really worried about him. She'd had him come back and live with her to try to help stabilize him for a while.
She thought that maybe she'd made a huge mistake. After all, she wasn't a proponent of adult kids living at home with their parents. Not unless there were special circumstances.
But she just had such a soft spot for him that she let it all slide. And now that he was doing so well with maintaining a job, she didn't want to mess it all up for him by destabilizing him.
Judy knew she was being silly. She knew she was being weak, and she knew that she was turning a blind eye to her son's irresponsible tendencies. She wouldn't have put up with some of his behavior coming from anyone else.
She had too much of a soft spot for him. She knew that. She didn't quite accept it though, and she still got upset about it, still got mad at herself about it.
Judy had never liked computers much, but she was sitting in front of one now. A desktop computer. Ancient by modern standards. But it still worked. Still connected to the internet.
It didn't display all the fancy pages with their fancy graphics. But it still worked fine for the news sites.
So Judy had read all the latest on the virus. She knew that the authorities had identified that dilated veins were a symptom of infection during the silent period.
The latest news was that the dilated veins didn't show up for twelve hours. And within that twelve-hour incubation period, the virus did not appear to be contagious. The authorities used the word “appear” because they weren't sure. Normally, it took months, if not years, to understand a virus, to understand how it worked. But H77 had showed up spontaneously, without warning. There hadn't been time to study it.
The fact that the virus had a twelve-hour window in which it wasn't contagious did not mean that huge numbers of people weren't infected.
The flight from Beijing to New York had been well over twelve hours, meaning that, given what was now known about the airborne transmission of H77, nearly everyone on the plane was infected.
With most viruses, there was usually a small percentage of the population that was naturally immune. With H77, it seemed that number might be as small as five percent. But it was, as of yet, impossible to say with certainty.
The authorities were careful to stress that there was no way to know if one was as of yet immune, so the best strategy for avoiding death was complete avoidance, complete quarantine.
What irked Judy to no end was the strategy that the City of Albuquerque seemed to be taking. The local news sites were reporting that many apartment buildings and houses were being cleared out and evacuated by the city officials. People were being taken to the downtown stadium for a “quarantine” program.
While the city officials didn't seem to see anything wrong with their plan of grouping everyone together, the people in the comments section at least saw something wrong with it. They were vicious, calling the city officials out for maybe the worst plan that anyone had ever come up with.
“Yeah,” wrote one person. “Get every potentially sick person together. Take them out of their private residences.... the only advantage to this idiotic plan is that the virus will spread fast, like wildfire... we won't have to wait around long to meet our makers...”
From Judy's perspective, the commentator was right on.
There were plenty of other commentators, writing about how they weren't going to leave their houses or apartments, about how they were going to put up a fight, about how the city officials would have to pry their firearms from their cold dead fingers.
Judy's hand went automatically to the .44 Magnum lying on the table next to her. The first thing she'd done when she'd seen the news about the virus was head to the safe and take out her gun.
Judy may not have used the Magnum in a few years, but she'd still made sure to keep it in good condition. She'd done everything that the gun required, and maybe a little more.
And while she may have been out of practice, she doubted that she'd have any trouble hitting anything. She'd grown up with guns in the house, and she still had clear memories of her father teaching her sister and her how to shoot.
Judy's thoughts turned for a moment towards her sister, who had died of breast cancer just a few months ago. She and Damian had traveled together to the funeral up in Washington State, where her sister had settled a couple decades ago with her now-deceased husband.
There was a knock at the door. A loud knock.
A hundred thoughts flashed through Judy's mind. Was if it was the city officials? Had they come for her?
Or was it Damian? He should have been here by now.
Or was it someone else?
This wasn't Judy's first time around the block, and she wasn't nearly naive enough to think that the virus was going to be the only problem in the next few days.
Judy had a good understanding of human nature, and she understood that people were vicious when push came to shove. They'd do what they thought necessary to save themselves and their families.
&
nbsp; Judy's hand went to her gun, grasping it around the barrel. The cool metal felt good in her hand.
The gun was solid. Well made. An honest product, one that you knew wasn't going to break on you when you needed it most. It didn't seem like there were many consumer products left these days that the same could be said for.
Judy took the gun with her as she stood up, her hands sliding around it until her hand was around the handle in a good grip.
Another loud knock.
Judy wasn't the sort of person to avoid problems. If there was something to deal with, then she dealt with it. With the one true exception being Damian.
But he was a good kid. And he was doing a lot better. Sure, there were things that Judy wished Damian had done, like learn how to shoot a gun, or settle down with a good woman, but she was sure those things would come in time. If they made it through this virus outbreak, that is.
The house wasn't large, and Judy made her way through it quickly.
She stood to the side of the front door. If someone somehow opened the door from the outside, there was plenty of room for the door to swing open on its hinges.
She got the revolver into position, pointing it at what would become the door's opening.
“Who is it?” she yelled out, her finger sliding onto the trigger.
“Mom! It's me.”
It was unquestionably her son's voice.
Her heart slowed down a little in her chest.
But all wasn't yet well. Not until she knew what was going on for sure.
“Who's with you?” she called out. “Are you alone?”
“No. I told you. Matt from work is here.”
Judy had met Matt once or twice. He seemed like a good guy. Certainly had his life together more than her son.
“Anyone else?”
“Two girls. From work. Well, one's from work, and the other is her roommate.”
Judy was listening carefully to her son's voice. He sounded stressed, but not unduly so. It certainly didn't sound like someone was pointing a gun to his head, trying to gain access to the house.
Judy hadn't wanted to look through the peephole since she knew that a bullet of a certain caliber could easily pierce the door. Someone on the other side could call out, wait until they saw darkness appear in the peephole, and fire at the door, killing Judy instantly.
But now it seemed like it was worth the risk.
In the peephole, Judy saw her son standing there. Three figures behind him. No guns drawn. Nothing too dangerous looking.
She figured it was safe.
And then she remembered.
What if they were infected?
“Any of you infected?” she called out.
“No. Of course not. Come on, mom. Let us in. There are all these weird people out here on the streets... we've got to get inside...”
“Not until you show me your veins!”
“You're going to pull this? On your own son? You think I'd come in here and infect you?”
“Do it! Or you're not coming in.”
Judy may have thought that she often went too easy on her son, Damian, but she did realize that others may have looked at it differently. In other people's eyes, she was just as harsh on him as she was on anyone else.
“You first, Damian!” she shouted through the door. “Hold the backs of your hands up. Close to the peephole.”
She could hear Damian groaning and grumbling on the other side of the door. But he did it. He held up his hands.
“A little closer,” she shouted through the door, her hand never leaving her pistol.
Damian's hands looked clean.
“Next!” she shouted. “You know the drill. Quick now!”
One by one, Damian's three companions showed their veins to the peephole.
When it was all over, Judy didn't waste any time. She threw the deadbolt open and swung the door open wide. She stood to the side, pistol in hand, as they trudged through the door.
“Nice to see you again, Mrs. Jones,” said Matt, who always seemed to have his manners about him.
“You know you can just call me Judy,” said Judy.
“Sure thing, Judy.”
While Damian threw himself down on a nearby chair, panting heavily, apparently from exertion, Matt introduced the two young women. One of whom was Damian's coworker and the other was her roommate. The coworker seemed to have her wits about her, but Judy wasn't yet sure about the roommate, who seemed either a little ditzy or a little strange.
“We brought food from my place,” said Matt, pointing to the trash bags that they'd dumped in the corner. “Hopefully we won't be too much of a burden while we wait this thing out... my apartment didn't seem like a good place... lots of doors and windows and shared walls…”
“From what I can tell, they're evacuating a lot of apartment buildings,” said Judy.
“That's what they tried to do to us,” said Jamie, before briefly explaining how she and her roommate had had to jump off a school bus to avoid being taken to what amounted to a detention center.
“I was just reading about that on the computer,” said Judy. “About how they're taking everyone to the stadium and putting them together... the way I see it, what better way to make sure the virus spreads?”
“Our thoughts exactly,” said Matt.
“Well, I know one thing for sure. I'm not leaving this house.” She held up her revolver, her finger outside the trigger guard. “And if they try to make me, I'm going to make it very difficult for them.”
Matt let out a little chuckle. “We're with you on that. Like I said, we really appreciate you letting us stay here for a little while. Hopefully all this crazy virus stuff will be over soon enough... hopefully they'll get it contained.”
“I wouldn't put too much stock in that theory,” said Judy. “I've been alive a little longer than you, which means I've had more years to watch as the 'authorities' and 'experts' in whatever category screw everything up time and time again.... You three are welcome to stay here as long as necessary. I could use some help around here anyways as someone,” she pointed to her son Damian, who was slouching in the chair, “never seems to have the time to help his mother with anything.”
“We appreciate that,” said Matt. “I'll get this food into the kitchen, then.”
Judy, strange as it seemed, was already glad that her son had brought over friends. She was already appreciating Matt's approach. He seemed eager to help out. Eager to do things. Matt and Jamie were already hauling the extra food down the hall to the kitchen. In contrast, Damian just had managed to slouch further down in his chair.
“Do you like gardening?” said Mia, out of the blue, her voice taking on a lilting kind of quality to it.
Judy didn't know what to make of the question. She shot her son a look, hoping he could help her interpret this strange young lady's out-of-context question.
But he just shrugged his shoulders.
“I really like to garden,” Mia was saying, apparently content to not receive an answer. “My job doesn't let me do a lot of it... It's just the way it is, I suppose.”
“Yes, that can be tough,” said Judy. “But we've got more important things to worry about right now. Why don't you and Damian go down to the basement and see if you can find some flashlights and candles and things like that?”
“The power's not off though,” groaned Damian. “And you never clean that basement. It's gross down there.”
“The power might go off soon,” said Judy. “If a large percentage of the population dies from the virus, then there isn't going to be anyone left to work the power plants or manage the electrical grid.”
“The basement sounds like fun!” said Mia brightly, standing up. “Come on, Damian. This'll be great.”
“Ugh,” groaned Damian, standing up reluctantly.
“What am I going to do with him?” muttered Judy to herself as she watched the two of them disappear down the hallway towards the basement door.
As they disappeared
, as if on cue, a siren sounded in the street.
Judy stopped and listened to it. At first, she thought that it might be an ambulance or police car on another street, heading away from her house.
But the siren sound only got louder.
Was it a police car or an ambulance?
There weren't any windows by the door, and the peephole didn't do her any good.
It sounded more like a cop car, but for some reason, she couldn't remember if the siren sounds were different.
“What's that?” said Matt, appearing near her in the hallway. “Cop cars?”
Judy was surprised to find herself relieved to see him. Not that she couldn't handle things on her own, but Matt standing there gave the impression of a solid and reliable individual. Someone you could count on.
“I can't tell. You think it's the police or an ambulance?”
“I think it's the police,” said Matt, after a pause to listen carefully to the sirens.
“That makes sense.”
“It does?”
“Maybe they're coming to kick us out.”
“But that doesn't make any sense. Why would they do that?”
“Why did they do it to your friends? Just because it doesn't make sense doesn't mean it's not happening.”
The two of them fell into a brief silence, over which the sound of the sirens only grew louder.
Judy's house was the second from a dead-end cul-de-sac. If the police were going to evacuate the street, they'd probably start with the last house and then work their way down the street. If that were the case, Judy wouldn't have much time before they arrived at her house.
10
Damian
“Wow, this is so cool...” said Mia, her voice sounding strange and distant.
“Cool?” said Damian. “What's going on with you? It's just a basement. Are you always like this, or are you just getting weirder since I met you or something?”
Damian knew that he didn't always have a lot of tact, so sometimes he just chose to go with his brash gut instincts of speaking his mind.
Escape the Virus Page 8
