“...isolationist policies make it hard for us to get accurate real time information on this outbreak; at the same time those policies seem to be containing the outbreak to North Korea itself. At this point all we know is that the disease appears to be a fast acting form of influenza. Symptoms develop rapidly after exposure and in many cases fatality occurs within a few days. Again, because of the nature of dealing with information from North Korea, we do not know the exact fatality rate, or the rate of infection. At this time we are coordinating with the FAA and the department of Homeland security to ensure that everybody flying into the United States from East Asia will be quarantined for twenty four hours after arrival to ensure that symptoms do not develop. We do not think that there is a clear and present danger to the people of the United States at this time, but when dealing with a disease such as this, the situation is always fluid and can change at any time. I'll now take a few questions from the press.” He pointed to a reporter in the crowd in front of him.
“How bad is this going to get Doctor?”
“Well it certainly seems that there is a real mystery to this one. Flu season in South-East Asia had been relatively good this year, so it is worrying that it seemed to come out of the blue, hard and fast,” Ackerman replied. “Whether it turns out to be something less dangerous than originally thought, like the infamous Swine Flu, is unknowable at this time. While that outcome is something that we can all hope for, I think it would be wise to look at this as if it were the worst case scenario until proven otherwise…and if that is the case then yes, it is going to be bad. Possibly very bad.
Based on some of the reports coming out of North Korea we could be looking at something as virulent as the Spanish influenza. But as I said, that is pure conjecture at this time.” He motioned to call on another reporter but Alan switched off the television before the question came. I have often wondered if Dr. Ackerman lived long enough to realize just how much his 'worst case scenario' had underestimated the lethalness of the infection.
“Do you have any homework Isaac?” Alan asked from his recliner.
“No sir,” I replied. It was a lie, but a small one. I actually had a dozen math problems I needed to do for my algebra class, but I had that class in the afternoon and figured I'd just do them at lunch the next day. It's not like I had any friends to hang out with during lunch time.
The next day the 'Pyongyang Flu', as they were calling the infection, was the talk of the school. There was the usual talk about how it was the end times coming. Bernie Bova, my lab partner in Physical Science, wouldn't shut up about how it was a government conspiracy, and that the U. S. government had actually used a biological weapon against the North Koreans.
At the time, none of us knew how close to the truth he actually was, although he got the source of the attack wrong. That sort of talk went on for a few days, while news stories lingered on the evening news and in the papers, but then like all news stories that did not have a direct effect on the majority of Americans, they petered off.
It didn’t help that the North Korean government had virtually sealed off their country, not only the borders, but also all telecommunication, media and internet. The talk died down, and within a couple of weeks the hype around the Pyongyang flu died down, and if it was not forgotten, then at least it was no longer on the top of people’s minds. There was nothing besides regularly recycled stories and speculation on the 24 hour news channels. Going about my daily life, I heard no news about the infection for nearly two whole weeks.
On Halloween day the Chinese government announced that they were sending an expeditionary task force across the border into North Korea. Even communications from the government had ceased and the last statement by them of any sort had come a week before. Spy satellites had seen no movement of vehicles or people in nearly that long in Pyongyang, or any place else except for a few isolated villages where it appeared some farmers were still toiling in their fields. With this deafening silence hanging over North Korea, the Chinese had the support of the United Nations – everybody wanted to know what had transpired there.
I had never been much into candy, and besides, at nearly fifteen years of age, I felt that I was a little bit too old for trick or treating anyway, so I spent the evening at ‘home’, watching CNN’s live updates of the Chinese expedition. At first the Chinese were very forthcoming with what they were finding, even going so far as to release video footage to their own and western news outlets.
I had to suppress shudders watching the grainy video footage of Chinese soldiers marching through a wasteland. Something like ninety-six percent of the adult population had succumbed to the infection; children appeared to be unaffected. The reports showed them being rounded up by soldiers and transported to camps where the Chinese government assured everybody that they would be cared for until a long term solution could be found. No one in the scientific community could explain why children seemed to be immune to the infection, although there was some wild speculation.
While they were physically unaffected by the disease, being left alone without any sort of adult supervision had not been kind to them. The first group of children that were filmed seemed wild, almost feral, and I remember wondering how they could fall so far in such a short period of time. Watching them I was reminded of a book that I had read recently for school, Lord of the Flies, where a group of kids were shipwrecked on an island with no adults. Left to their own devices, with little chance of rescue, the children’s descent into savagery was quick and not at all pretty.
Within a day or so, the Chinese government’s willingness to share information clammed up. They occupied North Korea and declared it a quarantine zone. The Chinese President assured the world that their scientists were hard at work studying the disease and would reveal their findings when their study was complete.
For a few more days the Pyongyang flu and devastation of North Korea was on everybody’s minds, but then it slowly faded once more. Sure, there were the normal reactions to a horrendous tragedy; celebrities went on TV to try to raise money for Korean orphans, world leaders rattled sabers to try to get the Chinese government to release more information. Our president told the world that all our hopes and prayers were with the Korean people. But, once again, when it stopped being front and center, it faded from most people’s minds.
Aside from the usual conspiracy theories, nobody seriously suspected that the Pyongyang Flu was anything more than a terrible new plague that science would soon tame. Nobody suspected the truth, that the infection of North Korea was just a science experiment, a practice run. North Korea’s isolationist policies had made it the perfect petri dish, and soon enough the results of that experiment would be used to irrevocably swing the balance of power in the world.
Three days later I was in a dark mood as I sat in the school office during third period. It was my fifteenth birthday, but I wasn’t really in the mood to celebrate. I had my head bowed and was doing my best to ignore the world around me.
I was thinking about my parents and sister and the last birthday I had shared with them. It had seemed nothing special then, just my favorite home cooked meal and a simple chocolate cake, but now it was a precious memory. Funny how things change and become more significant, after the passing of time.
My thoughts drifted to the North Korean children and how millions of them had also had their parents ripped from them. The world was a shitty place.
I was faintly aware of somebody sitting down in the seat next to me, but kept my head buried in my hands. I didn’t feel up to making conversation.
“So whatcha here for?”
I sighed. Some people just can’t read body language. I thought about ignoring the question, but in the end I sat back in my chair and looked up to see a tall, red headed boy slouched in the plastic chair next to mine. I knew him, of course. Luke Merritt was my age and one of the more popular kids in my class, his fun personality more than making up for his freckles and gangly appearance.
“Don’t kno
w,” I said with a shrug. “I got a note to come see Mr. Jennings. How about you?”
“I’m here to see Dan the Man,” he said, referring to Vice Principle Dan Haralson. ‘Dan the Man’ was his nick-name amongst the student body, earned by his easy-going, ‘cool’ attitude towards the kids. “Tyler Lane was bugging Sheri Denison in PE, and when he grabbed her boob, I felt I just had to step in, you know? I mean they’re so perfect that no-one with the IQ of a brick should ever be able to touch them…ever! Anyway, one swift kick to the nards later and here I am. Still, I’d rather be here waiting to see the Man than sitting with my swollen balls on ice at the nurse’s station.” I couldn’t help but notice his grin as he talked and I found myself smiling at the vivid picture he painted.
“You know Haralson’s going to give you detention at the very least. I know he’s pretty cool and all, but he’s tough on fighting,” I said. “He might even suspend you.”
“Totally worth it, man,” Luke replied. “A suspension isn’t going to stop me from helping out someone in trouble, besides, have you seen Sheri? Maybe she will want to thank me some time, if you know what I mean.” He nudged me with his elbow and winked and I smiled again. I felt myself starting to begrudgingly like Luke. It was hard not to. We might have talked more, but just then Mr. Jennings opened his door and called me into his office.
I felt my smile melt away as my distant self came back. I know now that it was a defense mechanism, something I put in place to be sure that I could never like anything or anyone enough to be hurt again when I lost them. I didn’t answer Luke when he said “see ya.”
The counselor’s office was small and cramped, a desk and two metal book shelves dominated the room and when the coat rack was taken into account, the only place for a visitor was on the hard plastic chair set in front of the desk.
“Have a seat, Isaac,” Mr. Jennings said, moving to his seat behind the desk and dropping into the black, cushioned chair that looked so much more comfortable than the one that he provided for students. “Miss Babette mentioned that you had been even more distant in class the last couple of days, so I thought I’d call you in here to see what’s troubling you.”
I glanced around the office, as I often did when called here. My eyes finally came to rest on a poster for an old movie that Mr. Jennings kept hanging on the back wall. I have never seen ‘Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead’ but I have the vague feeling that it has to do with Shakespeare somehow, and I always wondered why he’d have that particular poster on his wall. I don’t know, maybe he just liked the movie.
“Well, Isaac?”
“No sir, nothing out of the ordinary,” I replied. There was no way I was going to mention it was my birthday. “I guess I’ve just been thinking about those poor kids in North Korea a lot this week is all. How they lost everyone.”
“At least they are still alive,” Mr. Jennings said. “So they are lucky in that regard.”
“Are they?”
2
The rest of November and the first part of December passed without incident, until school let out for winter break. Leaving Fort Carter Junior High the Friday before Christmas, I had no way of knowing that I’d never set foot in the school again. My time in a classroom was over, but it was not the end of my lessons. One thing that I have discovered since the infection is that you never stop learning.
When it happened, it happened real quick. The United States, the greatest nation on earth, functionally ceased to exist in less than a week. The first people started getting sick on Christmas day.
“Thanks, Alan, Eleanor, I love it!” holding the small remote controlled car in my hands, I felt almost happy, part of a real family for the first time since the fire. Most of the presents that they had given me were functional – a sweater, some woolen socks, a new backpack to carry my school books in, but the remote control electric car was the first real toy that I had gotten since my parents died. At fifteen I might have been a bit old for toys, but I was still glad to get it.
I raced the little car around the living room, and then jogged after it as it zoomed through the dining room and into the kitchen. The thought of playing had been absent from my mind for over a year and for just a brief moment, I felt almost like a normal kid again. Under my control the car zipped in a circuit of the kitchen and back through the dining room to the living room.
“Are you alright, Al?” Eleanor was saying as I reentered the room. “You've been coughing an awful lot this morning.”
“Just a bit of a tickle in the back of my throat,” Alan replied. “I'll be fine.”
“Judith said there was a bug going around,” Eleanor said, shaking her head. “Let me get you some warm salt water to gargle, perhaps we can knock it out of you before it really sets up shop.”
“I hope so; I took a mega-dose of vitamin C this morning when I first noticed it.” Alan said. “You know how I hate being sick.”
“Doesn't everybody hate being sick?” I asked earnestly. My question caused Alan to crack a smile, as warm as ever.
“Isaac, can you clean up the wrapping paper and put your gifts away?” Eleanor asked, before heading to the kitchen to fetch the salt water for Alan. “John and Amy should be here soon.”
John and Amy were two of the kids that they had fostered before me, John was in college now, down in Providence and Amy was living up in Boston. Both still had strong feelings for the Fosters though, and came to visit often on holidays. Amy even called them Mom and Dad. I had met both a few times before and they seemed like good people, just the sort of kids you'd expect to come out of a family life crafted by Alan and Eleanor.
I gathered up my gifts and took them to my room, where I dumped them in a pile on the bed. I had to admit to myself that I was looking forward to Christmas dinner. With John and Amy there, it would be almost like the family gatherings I remembered from before my grandparents had died. I went back to the living room to gather up the torn wrapping paper into a garbage bag. Eleanor was on the kitchen phone.
“Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that dear. I hope that you feel better soon... No, no, don't worry about it, perhaps you can get up to visit before New Year’s... I'm sure that he'll understand... get some rest and eat some soup, chicken noodle helps your body get over bugs... Love you too. Bye John.” She looked tired as she put the phone down but when she noticed me she perked up. I knew it was just a front.
“That was John,” she said. “He's feeling a bit under the weather and won’t make it tonight. Amy texted my cell phone a half hour ago though, and she should be here any minute.”
I felt a small loss now that John wouldn’t be coming, I really liked him. From the little pieces of information that the Fosters had given me, I knew his struggles had been far rougher than mine before he had come to live with them. That he'd turned out to be such a good, well-adjusted person and had gone on to college was a testament to how great of parents the Fosters were. I looked out of the window and saw that snow had started to fall. It was the first snowfall of the year and the weatherman had not predicted it, but it looked like there was going to be a white Christmas in Fort Carter, Rhode Island after all.
I dutifully lowered my head and clasped my hands as Alan said grace. At that time in my life I was angry with God, but not completely ready to give up on the idea of his existence. The meal had been prepared with expectations that John would be there as well, so there was more than enough food to go around – ham, cornbread stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, green bean casserole, pumpkin and apple pies for dessert. It was a veritable feast. Given the things I have eaten just to stay alive in the weeks since that day, I almost feel bad about taking that meal for granted.
The conversation around the dinner table was merry, with Alan, Eleanor and Amy all laughing and having a great time. At one point during the meal, I began to tune them out and focused on eating. My mood had taken a turn for the worse. Rather than making me feel better, being reminded of the family gatherings that I could so distinctly remember actuall
y made me feel down. Amy seemed to notice.
“Why don't you show me the presents you got after dinner?” she said. “Mom said that you got a new car? I'm jealous, they never got me a car.”
“It's just a toy.” I mumbled. Amy was nice enough, but she was older than John, in her mid-twenties and always seemed more like a visiting adult than a potential sibling. I ate a few more bites but found that the food had begun to lose its taste. I could tell that one of my mopey moods (that’s what Eleanor called them) was about to hit me hard. Such bouts of depression had gotten fewer since I had been living with the Fosters but I had not completely left them behind.
“May I be excused,” I asked looking up at Alan.
“Sure, take your plate to the kitchen.” Alan said. “Don't let yourself get too down in the dumps though, mister. Later this evening we are going to go caroling around the neighborhood.”
“Okay,” I got up and picked up my plate.
“Is he still that unhappy here?” I heard Amy quietly ask as I went into the kitchen. I did not hear the reply. We never did go caroling that night. When the time came, Alan was feeling much worse than he had been that morning and had developed a fever to go with his sore throat and cough. Amy was beginning to feel ill as well.
Before she left though, she came up to my room to look over my presents and chat in an attempt to cheer me up. It was nice of her and I appreciated it, but it was an awkward, stilted conversation. During a particularly long pause I told her with typical teenage bluntness, “You look terrible.”
She really did, there were dark circles under her eyes and every few minutes she would cough into her handkerchief. I remember being amazed that she had gone from being perfectly healthy two hours before to her obviously ill state so quickly. Her hand had fluttered to her throat. “Yes, I think I better get going.” She gave me a hug and left.
The After Days Trilogy (Book 1): After Days Page 2
