Left Behind: The Suburban Dead

by T. A. Sorsby

  She took my helmet off and put it on the other handle before wrapping her arms around the back of my neck. I slipped mine around her waist again, under her jacket. The skin-to-skin contact made her shiver slightly, hopefully not just from the temperature. Our lips met, and parted. We didn’t break the kiss for nearly a minute, by which time I was starting to feel more than a little warmed up; despite her lips being cold from the ride. Open faced helmets – the price of being awesome.

  The other place that backed onto the courtyard was a biker hangout, so Katy’s hog fit right in alongside the other ‘choppers’. We were known faces in there, but tonight we fancied a quieter atmosphere. With their bikes outside too, we knew our helmets weren’t going anywhere.

  Our hands slid together as we walked inside, more of an old style pub than a bar. She picked a table out while I went to the bar and waited for some service. The place wasn’t exactly a hive of activity on Mondays, but tonight it was especially dead. Maybe everyone was stuck in the traffic we’d hit on the way in. Must’ve been a hockey game on or something.

  I put the few cents change into the charity box on the bar, and took a sip of ale to steady my nerves a little. Those puppies in my stomach from this morning had grown into big, slathering hounds, and were worrying at my intestines. I blinked at the image, and mused the various meanings of the word ‘worry’.

  ‘What’s up?’ she asked, ‘You look more smiley than usual.’

  ‘I like the top,’ I beamed, recovering nicely, ‘it really brings out your everything.’

  It wasn’t a lie, it just wasn’t the answer she was looking for. Her black halter top that was cut so generously, from the male perspective at least, that I could see the bra she was wearing. Lacy, black, and my favourite.

  She blushed slightly at the compliment, and adjusted the top in a way that made it seem like she was covering up, but really made little difference.

  ‘So what did you get up to today?’ I asked, sitting across from her and taking a glance at the big TV, showing some new music video on mute. I never got why they did that either.

  ‘Dad called.’ She said, raising her eyebrows. Tough subject. ‘Wanted to know if I’d gotten the birthday present.’

  A tablet computer, fancy, new, high end. She’d donated it.

  ‘What’d you tell him?’

  ‘Exactly what he didn’t want to hear,’ she grinned, ‘the truth. He contained himself, but I could tell he wasn’t happy at the thought of sick kids playing Tomb of Damocles on his two-hundred-silver tablet.’

  ‘A better plan than smashing it,’ I congratulated her. ‘How was work today then? Nobody threw up blood on you again, did they?’

  ‘Thankfully not,’ Katy snorted, somehow making the noise charming. ‘Something weird did happen though.’

  ‘What’s weirder than blood vomit?’ I grinned, wondering if any other couples talked about this kind of thing on dates.

  ‘You don’t hang out in hospitals much, do you?’ she asked rhetorically. ‘This doctor pronounced a guy DOA, which wasn’t hard because he was as white as a sheet from blood loss, then sent him down to the slabs. This is just at the start of my shift, right.’ she paused, taking a slurp of her fizzy blackcurrant drink. ‘So just as I’m about to clock off there’s this call to security, from the morgue. The guy from earlier isn’t as dead as everyone thought. Gets off the gurney and bites the assistant coroner.’

  ‘The dead guy?’ I asked, raising an eyebrow. She gave me a ‘don’t interrupt’ look, and carried on.

  ‘Yeah, the dead guy. He bites the coroner, security get him restrained and have to put a muzzle on him. We’ve got him staying in for overnight observation, and the supposed-to-be dead guy in restraints in a private room. Most extreme case of ERHR I’ve heard of.’ she added.

  ‘You think its East Rojas Rabies, or just the normal kind?’ I asked, looking over to the TV again. News update.

  ‘Regular rabies takes months to incubate in humans, and it’s almost always fatal by the time symptoms show. But from what we’ve heard of ERHR…the neuro symptoms…don’t…hang on…’ she added, trailing off, and looking over at the TV screen too. ‘Can we get volume on this thing?’ she shouted over her shoulder to the bar. The lone barman obliged.

  ‘…related to the murder in Overbridge, possibly conducted by the same gang the police are now looking for. Residents of the smaller communities in Greenfield are advised to keep an eye out and report any strange activity to the police immediately.’

  ‘What’s up?’ I frowned, looking at her expression and matching it. She didn’t reply, so I touched her arm, ‘Terra to Katy, you in there?’

  ‘Oh, erm, nothing, just those murders. Been following it on the radio at work. The police better catch these assholes.’ she frowned, shaking her head.

  ‘Yeah, I get you.’ I smiled. ‘But I won’t let any cannibal cults eat my girlfriend. Say,’ I gasped theatrically, ‘I think I should go home with you tonight, just to keep you safe.’

  She brightened up immediately, letting out a bubbly laugh and turning her sunshine smile onto me. I put my hand on the table, palm up, and she locked her fingers with mine.

  ‘In other news,’ the TV persisted, ‘the spread of East Rojas Human Rabies, or the ERHR super-bug, has accelerated. Anyone exhibiting symptoms should call this number for the Greenfield CDC, and avoid travel, spreading the infection to others…’

  *

  Two

  We’d been holding each other for a few minutes, while the afterglow faded. She really did glow. Her bare skin felt so warm against mine. Her back was pressed up against me, a hand on my thigh while my arms held her close. I felt her breath moving the hairs on my arms, and smiled when I heard her contented sigh. My cue, I kissed the back of her neck, slid my arms away from her and sat up.

  ‘Where’re you going, Kelly?’ she muttered, turning onto her back, her eyes flicking down to my chest. I’m no bodybuilder, but I keep in decent shape.

  ‘Absolutely nowhere…’ I thought, reaching to the side of the bed for my jacket.

  Her room was never the tidiest of places and already the book from her nightstand, a refresher handbook from her EMT days, had somehow fallen onto my jacket. I put it back on the stand, pulled the steel DVD case out of my pocket, and then lay back down next to her. I held it up in the air, and with a little laugh, she walked her fingers up my arm and pinched it out of my hand.

  ‘Some Bad Men’s new tour album?’ she smiled, ‘High Heels & Brushed Steel, the greatest hits. So you were listening when I told you what I wanted for my birthday.’

  ‘Even if it wasn’t out in time for your birthday, I thought our anniversary was a good enough day to give you…something else.’ I fought a grin, trying not to give the game away. She softly touched my cheek, sweeping a tendril of black hair behind my ear.

  We had been together longer than anyone else we knew, a full two years. Longer by half than any other relationship I’d been in, and long enough for me to remember when our anniversary was without setting a calendar alarm on my phone this year.

  There was always a lot of fire when we got together, a lot of passion, and you’d think after a couple of years that it’d dim somewhat. Not a chance. We still didn’t manage to get fully undressed most of time, even if a few shirt buttons popped or a pair of tights split. Tonight, Katy was still wearing my favourite bra, the lace sculpting her cleavage, offering it out.

  ‘What the hell…?’ she said, opening the special edition case. Something small and metal fell from it, and nestled between her breasts; drawing a gasp from her as cold silver touched warm skin.

  The ring I’d had made for her at Hannah-Smith’s was customised to match the old Northern Voison-pattern tattoo that wrapped around her arm near her shoulder. The design was reminiscent of waves on the sea, but since the ancient North was so fond of stone carving, the waves were angular and rigid, like the sea had frozen. I wouldn’t want to get my girl just a plain old diamond now, would I?


  ‘Do you want to get married, Katy?’ I asked her, my stomach in knots. I held my breath.

  ‘Oh my Gods…’ she whispered, one hand actually going to her mouth. ‘Dude,’ she snorted, recovering fast, ‘you’re supposed to propose – then get me into bed!’

  I didn’t say anything. I just kissed her.

  She kissed back, her leg sliding over mine, the DVD case thrown to the floor in all the rolling around we did before we stopped giggling. She sat up, straddling me, and offered me her hand. As gentlemanly and delicately as I could, I slid the silver band onto her index finger, the only finger she didn’t already wear a ring on. It fit just perfectly.

  ‘I fucking love you…’ she moaned, her lips pressing into mine. I couldn’t say anything back, even if I had wanted to.

  In the morning I changed into some spare clothes I left at her place, and kissed her at the door to the sound of cooing laughter from her housemates; Laurel and Dani. They were my friends too, after two years courting. It’d been a really great morning, telling them the good news. Katy bit my bottom lip with a growl, grabbing my ass so they could both see.

  ‘All mine now!’ she laughed.

  And that’s why I loved my Katy.

  I jumped on the bus to town and sat down on one of the many empty seats. Usually the busses from Katy’s part of the ‘burbs were packed with mid-morning commuters; this morning it was dead, but at least that meant I could take one of the free newspapers, usually gone by the time I started a Tuesday shift.

  The front page was split between next month’s general election and the ERHR crisis, which looked to be getting worse by the hour. The CDC had drafted all the men they could from the Republic’s small standing force, the Territorials, but since most of the Territorial bases were in the South, they’d fallen back on Voison’s larger Private Military Companies most everywhere else. Professional soldiers had been an export of the Republic for centuries, but it wasn’t often we needed the mercenaries for ourselves.

  Greenfield was lucky to have two hospitals. By the looks of it, smaller cities in the ‘threatened areas’ were directing non-ERHR patients towards Sydow, capital of the midlands and home to one of the major PMCs. They hadn’t been hit so badly down there, less contaminated foreign imports, or so the papers guessed.

  It was the first time I’d had call to be proud of my home region, from up here in the north – the living was cheaper but I squirmed uncomfortably at the thought of Voison turning to rioting like in the East. From the sounds of it, this super-bug took everyone by surprise. Being a concerned citizen, I put the hotline number into my phone in case anyone needed it. Hopefully not myself, but this looked like it was heading towards a pandemic, so better safe than contagious.

  Despite the bus being empty, the roads were a nightmare. I got into work about twenty minutes late this time, undoing yesterday’s good work on my time sheet. Even so, I had a spring in my step. I smiled again, looking at the picture of Katy on my phone as I checked my messages. I’d asked if she’d be on-call with this situation going on, but she hadn’t gotten back yet.

  Suddenly, I was being hugged. Gladys didn’t shout when she saw me coming in late. She just walked right up and hugged me, a real rib-cracker, right there in the warehouse.

  She’d always been a woman of strong emotions, which I put down to having four kids at home, but she’d never bear-hugged me for being late. Usually I just get a medium-style lecturing about responsibility, and an extra-awkward package delivery.

  ‘Tiernan Kelly! I’m glad to see you’re okay,’ she said, breaking off the hug and holding me by the shoulders. ‘I thought you’d been taken in.’

  ‘Taken in? What do you mean?’ I asked, knotting my brow. Nobody uses my first name unless they’re Terry or it’s bad.

  ‘The CDC,’ she said, like I was supposed to know what she meant. ‘Didn’t you know? They’re going around looking for anyone showing signs of the virus, men with guns...’

  ‘Yeah, I read about it on the way in. The Territorials are coordinating with the CDC and the mercenaries to secure quarantines around the relief centres. I think we’ve got Sydow Securities in Greenfield, them or Northern Territories. Think my Gran was in one of them during the war.’

  ‘They’re going around, taking the infected away, it’s horrible…but better than spreading this thing? I don’t know...’ She carried on, looking off to one side before snapping her attention back to me. ‘You haven’t been bitten have you? Scratched?’

  ‘Only in the company of my woman…’ I mused.

  ‘Be serious!’ Gladys chided, slapping my shoulder. ‘They’re saying that’s how you get it. And drinking contaminated water. And food from Rojas. And it’s in the air. But if that were true we’d all have it, wouldn’t we? Come on, there’s this repeated warning on the TV – you should come see it.’

  ‘They think it’s going to hit us as bad as it did in the East?’ I asked, as we walked through the warehouse towards the break room, where a few of the other couriers were sat. ‘The main strip in Redmond looked like something out of the war, and that used to be a nice place to go for a few cocktails.’

  It was a pokey little room with unclaimed packages stacked up along three walls. Usually we’d divide them up around Midwinter if nobody came to claim them, but until then, a large stack served as a TV-stand. National Mail were due to refit our break room three months ago, and while they’d stripped it out they hadn’t bothered with the actual redecorating or refurnishing. Although, we still had a coffee machine, set up on a folding table someone had bought from a camping outlet.

  ‘It’s still warm.’ Gladys said, passing a mug of black gold to me as I checked my phone again. I sipped gratefully, having skipped breakfast. No new messages.

  On the TV a male presenter was reading from heavy wad of paper. The bar of text at the bottom scrolled along, telling people that it was a repeated message and flashing up the number for the Greenfield CDC hotline.

  ‘Incubation symptoms include a lack of coherence, pale skin and a rise in temperature. When the virus has incubated do not try to help the infected, call this number immediately and isolate either yourself, or the infected. Busses will stop running at eleven a.m., and all people in Greenfield and the surrounding area are advised to return home immediately and avoid travel.’

  ‘Oh Gods…’ Gladys gasped, putting a hand up to her mouth, her eyes widening, ‘Terrance, Terrance is in the bathroom, he…he said he wasn’t feeling well and he looked so peaky…’

  ‘Ah, shit. That’s not good.’ I grimaced, taking a big swig of coffee and setting the mug back down. ‘I’ll go see if he’s okay.’

  ‘Don’t go near him, weren’t you listening?’ she panicked, flapping her hand at me, ‘You might get it too!’

  ‘I won’t let him bite me, scratch me, or make me drink dirty water,’ I said calmly, putting my palms up in appeasement. ‘Let me just go have a word with him, I’ve got the hotline number, and I’ll call it if he’s infected. He might have just eaten a bad prawn or something.’

  ‘Oh alright – but I’m coming with you. Some manager I’d be if I didn’t supervise this. I’m supposed to be responsible for my boys.’ She added, setting her hands into a stern position on her hips.

  The bathroom wasn’t far from the break room. Workplace efficiency and all that. We walked across the ends of a few aisles, but as soon as we came in sight of the conveniences; bare-brickwork things they’d built just before they took our sofas away, Terry came stumbling out.

  ‘Got to find the stairway…’ he mumbled. Or something like that. You know what it’s like, when someone mutters in their sleep? That’s what it was like. It’d have been funny if he wasn’t barely on his feet and the colour of an overcast sky.

  ‘Whoa, Terry man, where are you going?’ I asked, stopping so suddenly my boots squeaked on the floor. Gladys stopped beside me.

  He muttered something even less coherent, looked at us with the sort of expression you see in movies, where someon
e gets hit on the back of the head and falls unconscious in the barfight scene. He hit the floor a moment later, knees first, then face, arms limp at his side.

  ‘I got it,’ I sniffed, feeling my expression turn sour as I pulled out my phone and found the hotline number. We might not have been on the greatest terms, but I wasn’t going to stand there and do nothing. I had to try three or four times until I got through. The lines must’ve been busy.

  ‘You’ve reached the Centre for Disease Control, Greenfield hotline speaking, how can I direct your emergency?’ the operator lady asked, eerily chipper.

  ‘I’m at the National Mail distribution centre, and I think one of my co-workers has come down with the virus. He’s pale, sweating, incoherent and just passed out…’

  ‘That sounds like East Rojas, yes. We’ll have someone along within ten minutes. In the meantime, do not go near the infected. Isolate them if possible, and if not, isolate the rest of the staff. The CDC official attending will be Doctor Lines.’

  ‘Alright, thanks. Erm, have a nice day.’ I added, aiming to match her contagious cheeriness. She hung up.

  Me and a couple of the other couriers and packers kept an eye on Terry, keeping well back, while Gladys waited outside. Someone asked if we should get him a pillow, but nobody made a move, even the folks who liked him didn’t want to touch him. Right on the ten minute mark, Gladys came back, leading a group of uniforms.

  Two wore the white coats of medical staff, and were pulling on masks and gloves as they walked. Bringing up the rear were four men in grey and black urban camouflage decorated with Sydow Security patches. Mercenaries, professional soldiers. They had small but serious looking weapons to hand, boxy, rectangular submachine guns.

  Doctor Lines, the older and more bespectacled of the two medics, checked Terry’s pulse, his breathing, then nodded solemnly to his colleague.

  ‘We need to get him to Mercy Hospital, quarantine ward.’ The doctor reported, sounding tired. This could have been his hundredth callout of the day, and it wasn’t even lunchtime. ‘Can someone call his family?’