Last Pandemic (Book 3): Escape The Chaos

by Westfield, Ryan

  The mountains were the ever-present backdrop on both sides of him. To the north, he could make out the Santa Fe Baldy Peak, as it was called, because the mountain extended above the tree line, appearing bald. To the south, the mountains were smaller, but stretched out more, a long chain of up-and-down mountains in a seesaw pattern, like the back of some dinosaur.

  Cody was still wearing women’s clothes. And he still wore the scarves tied around his mouth and nose. They had bothered him at first, as had the clothes, but now he was used to them.

  He was so tired and exhausted from all the walking and running that there simply wasn’t any extra energy left over to worry about whether he looked silly in the clothes or whether they itched him or not.

  He couldn’t have cared less how he looked. What he cared about was getting back to his parents’ house.

  He’d found himself running, at a pace faster than a jog, through the city. There had been horrors that he’d passed and they’d almost seemed normal. He’d seen bodies. Many bodies.

  As of now, he still showed no symptoms. No enlarged veins. No strange feelings. No signs that he’d been contaminated. So either he’d managed to stay far enough away from the infected and dying, or the scarves had done something to help him.

  If he’d had to bet, he would have bet on a little bit of both. After all, there were plenty of others who probably had the idea to cover up their mouths and he suspected they were dead. And so were the people who’d tried to stay away from everyone else.

  He knew they were dead because he’d seen them. The streets had not been lined but had been filled with the dead. Everywhere there were dead people. Dead from the virus. Dead from violence.

  It had been horrible. He knew that he’d never get the images out of his mind. If he miraculously lived to old age, then he knew he’d live with these memories until his dying day, no matter what.

  There wasn’t anything to do about that now. And future memories were the least of his worries at the moment.

  He couldn’t worry about what he might feel or think in the future. That was just so far ahead that it didn’t matter at all.

  What mattered was the now. What mattered was staying alive.

  His strategy, now that he was out of the city, was simply to stay as far away from everyone as he could. He figured that way he’d have less of a chance of contracting the virus, provided he hadn’t caught it already. And also it meant less of a chance for violence, which was certainly plentiful. He’d heard plenty of gunshots in the city, and he’d seen the results of stab wounds and even blunt force trauma.

  Maybe it wasn’t the most novel idea ever, simply staying away from people, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that it was an idea that had worked. An idea that might keep him alive.

  So he found himself walking parallel to a road that he knew very well. Down south, where his parents lived, it was Route 14, and up closer to Santa Fe it was called Cerrillos Road. But it was the same road and at what seemed like various points, it intersected with Route 25.

  He didn’t know how many times he’d taken Route 14 in his life, but it was a lot, and it felt strange now, to be traveling parallel to it but not on it, to not be in a vehicle but on his feet.

  He stayed close enough so that he could see Route 14, which meant that he was usually either walking through open land, spotted with shrubs that were turning that beautiful shade of green just in time for spring, or that he was walking near the types of businesses that were concentrated in this part of the city. Mainly they were the sorts of businesses that didn’t belong in the downtown area, like car mechanics, welding shops, and various shops that supplied other businesses with equipment or services. It was an industrial of area and instead of yards, there were gated sections where bits of equipment were stored.

  There were many, many stopped cars all along 14, which was a strange sight. On some of the cars, the doors hung open, and people and bodies could be seen inside. Some of them were upright. Some were slumped over. Some were obviously dead and others weren’t. Some were in the process of dying, obviously infected, vomiting copiously onto the roadside.

  There was nothing he could do for them. Nothing he could do except try not to go near them.

  There was the occasional car that moved, but most of the traffic was at a dead stop. The cars that did move had a tough time actually driving down 14, given all the stopped cars. They would drive crazily off the road, swerving around the traffic, smashing into bumpers and slamming on their horns. There was the occasional motorcycle or moped that had a much easier time of things, swerving this way and that, easily weaving their way through the traffic, their drivers in various states of injury or infection.

  Cody reflected on the fact that while Santa Fe was in no way a small city, it certainly wasn’t anywhere near the size of Albuquerque. New Mexico itself was a state with one of the lowest concentrations of people anywhere in the US. And most of New Mexico’s population resided in Albuquerque.

  Cody felt substantially safer, much less likely to die now that he was, with every step, getting further away from downtown Santa Fe and closer to his home. Closer to Cerrillos. Closer to Madrid. Closer to an area that had fewer people.

  But would it last? Would the area remain that way? After all, his parents’ home wasn’t far from Albuquerque. It wouldn’t have been right to say that it was halfway between Albuquerque and Santa Fe, but that gave more of a picture of reality than saying that it was “in Santa Fe” or “very close to Santa Fe”.

  The hours ticked by as Cody walked. His body was tensed up, as if he was expecting to get struck at any moment by something completely unseen and completely unexpected. He was expecting unexplained violence, and based on what he had seen and what he had experienced, it seemed a sane way to think and feel.

  But gradually, as he got farther and farther from the city, as he passed fewer and fewer cars on 14, as he really started to get out there in the middle of nowhere, as some residents would call it from time to time, his guard started to fall away.

  It was a good feeling. It certainly wasn’t relaxation, or anything close to it, but it was the absence of the intense tension he’d been feeling.

  His mind began to wander, finally able to detach itself from the immediate present, from the immediacy of the danger that had surrounded him for so long. He began to have little images of his parents and what they’d say and do when he stepped triumphantly through the door. Somewhere in the stress, his mind had forgotten completely the idea that his parents might not be okay when he returned home. Instead, his mind had reverted to an almost childlike version of things, in which everything would be perfect once he finally reached home.

  Sure, he imagined that his parents would tease him a bit about the women’s clothes he wore. But he’d just shrug and say, “Well, you got to do what you got to do.” His dad would laugh and pat him on the back, then tell him to get his ass upstairs and into some proper clothes, because there was work that needed to be done. His mother would protest, saying that Cody must be exhausted from the trip. His dad would begin to argue, but Cody would, like the man that he’d become, step in and say that of course he could do the work, that he wasn’t tired in the least bit. His dad would beam and his mother would secretly feel proud of him.

  These sorts of mini daydreams kept his mind occupied for the many miles that he had to walk. Maybe it was nothing more, really, than a survival technique that his unconscious mind had come up with. It was, for instance, a way to distract him from the drudgery, from the pain that ran through his feet, never ceasing.

  Maybe he wouldn’t have actually been able to physically make it all the way there if it hadn’t been for the distractions that his mind was able to dream up. For quite some time, he found himself reimagining movies from his childhood. Whole scenes, painted in incredible detail, sprang to life in his mind’s eye. And he’d never been the sort to display anything but an ordinary working memory. But, then again, this wasn’t a normal situation, and tha
t made him no longer normal. The mind was capable of extraordinary things in extraordinary circumstances.

  Cody was visualizing, with great precision, the opening sequence to the Wizard of Oz, which he hadn’t seen since he was ten years old, when he suddenly realized that he’d made it.

  He stood there, looking around, somewhat puzzled, an odd expression growing on his face.

  Had he really made it all the way to his parents’ property? How was this possible?

  He looked up at the sun and saw that it was around five o’clock. It was getting late. He had been walking for hours and he had hardly noticed.

  That was the power of the mind.

  After his double-take, looking around, surveying the scenery, there was no denying it. He’d walked on autopilot right up the edge of his parents’ property. Then his mind had come back online.

  The pain was returning to his feet, various aches and pains were roaring back to life.

  It was just a short walk across a part of the property that he knew like the back of his hand. He’d played here as a kid. He’d grown up here. He’d done chores here. He knew it all, every nook and cranny, every little spot, every juniper tree.

  It was good to be back. Good to see the mountains from this angle. Good to see the dry creek bed that he’d played in endlessly as a kid, jumping off the banks of dirt and pretending that he could fly.

  But his mind began to run away from him again. This time, now that he was so close to his goal, his mind let the worry and anxiety come flooding back.

  What if his parents weren’t okay? What if they’d been contaminated? What if they hadn’t heard about any of it until it was all too late, until they’d already come in contact with an infected person? What if they’d known about the virus, but they’d taken pity on some wandering soul, letting them into the house, only to become infected themselves, punished for their kindness?

  There were a thousand ways everything could have gone wrong. A thousand ways they could have died.

  He knew he’d lose his parents someday, to something. But he was young. Too young to lose them yet. He never imagined he’d have to worry about it at this age.

  But, then again, the world was different than he’d ever imagined it could be.

  His parents’ vehicles were parked in the driveway. That was a good sign, but he still found himself holding his breath, still not trusting totally that they were fine.

  He paused only briefly at the door, too anxious to delay any longer, too anxious to see if they were okay to think that he should prepare himself for anything other than an unfortunate and upsetting discovery.

  The door was open and unlocked.

  “Mom? Dad?”

  He saw them before he entered the room.

  Both of them there. Dead. Blood everywhere.

  He froze in place. His mind was confused. Like a stalled-out car. He’d been trying to brace himself for the possibility. But now that he saw it, it was too real. Too sudden. Too intense.

  He didn’t know what to do. It seemed as if he didn’t know how to do anything, as if he were once again a little kid, nothing more than a toddler, reliant on his parents for everything and anything. And now that they were gone, he was left here, helpless and hopeless, staring off into nothing, incapable of doing a single thing for himself.

  There was nothing but silence. Nothing but silence until Cody heard the hinges of a door creaking somewhere.

  He turned.

  “Hello?” he said, immediately feeling foolish for speaking.

  Why had he announced his presence? What good would come of it?

  His parents, after all, were dead. He’d seen the proof with his own eyes. There was no denying it.

  Who else would be here? A neighbor? It was possible, but it was also unlikely. Anyone friendly to Cody’s family would have not wanted to leave his parents’ bodies lying like that.

  And they’d died from violence. Not the virus. That fact wouldn’t leave his head.

  “Hello?” came the reply.

  The voice was male. Maybe middle-aged, or a little younger. Hard to tell, really, but definitely older than Cody.

  “Who is it?” said Cody.

  “It’s me, Brian.”

  Brian? Brian was his father’s name. What was going on here? It was too late for it to be some sort of joke. His father and mother were already dead.

  The footsteps broke the silence now, punctuating it with a staccato rhythm that made Cody’s heart begin to leap in time with the steps themselves.

  20

  Jamie

  Jamie woke up feeling like she was hungover, like she’d been hit by a truck or something. Everything hurt. Her joints hurt. Her muscles hurt. It hurt even to breathe, her lungs only allowing her short, shallow breaths that caused a concerningly painful, burning sensation.

  “What’s happening?”

  She didn’t know why she spoke, since she hadn’t even opened her eyes to see if anyone was there. But she had some sense that someone was there, something from her unconscious mind. Or maybe it was just a guess.

  “It’s okay, don’t worry,” came the soft feminine voice that seemed to be trying to soothe her.

  But as the memories came flooding back to her, the sound of the voice didn’t calm her or soothe her. In fact, as she remembered being stuck with the needle, as she remembered hearing that she’d essentially have to be a prisoner for life, the voice brought up nothing but fear and terror.

  “You,” she said, her voice something of a hiss. “What do you want with me? Why are you doing this to me?”

  “I already explained that all to you. It’s for the good of humanity.”

  “But what about my good? What about me?”

  Lily sighed in a polite sort of way, if that was possible, and didn’t say anything.

  Jamie had her eyes open now and was staring right at Lily. Lily didn’t seem to be able to stand it and looked away, averting her eyes.

  “You can’t even look at me,” said Jamie, experiencing plenty of pain as she spoke, in her vocal cords, her throat, and her lungs. “You know this is wrong. Otherwise you would look at me. Wouldn’t you?”

  “Fine,” snapped Lily, her voice finally losing the false conciliatory feminine quality, becoming much harsher now, much more real. “You want me to look at you? Is that what you want?”

  And so Lily looked at her, swinging her gaze around all of a sudden, her pupils contracted in a crazed sort of way, as if she were trying to bore right through Jamie with her eyes.

  “You think this is right?” said Jamie.

  “I don’t know anymore what that even means.”

  “You don’t believe in right or wrong?”

  “I just believe in helping people...In helping my country.”

  “You think that’s what you’re doing? Why can’t you just get the blood from me but let me go? Hell, I’ll even come back...Let you take the vials of blood...I won’t be far from here.”

  “There’s no way you’ll come back,” said Lily. “I know you’re lying.”

  “How do you know? How do you know I won’t come back? What makes you think I don’t want to help others? What makes you think I don’t want to do my part to help humanity, and science?”

  “Because if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t come back.”

  “Why not?”

  “Too much risk.”

  “Risk of what?”

  “Who knows. Being recaptured. Being killed. I don’t know. I just know I wouldn’t do it. And I know I can’t trust you to return. Too much hanging in the balance. I need you here.”

  Along with the horrible physical pain that she felt, and the strange sort of dizzy feeling that seemed to be the after-effect of whatever drug she’d been dosed with, she felt a sinking sensation in her chest. Lily wasn’t going to let her go. Not a chance in hell.

  “What are you going to do with me?”

  “Nothing bad. Just draw some blood every once in a while.... I’ll have to inject you with
some things.”

  “More of that drug? I feel awful. Like I’ve been run over by a cement truck or something.”

  “No. That’s just if you’re bad and try to escape. If you cooperate I shouldn’t have to do anything like that...You won’t notice the other things.”

  “So I’m just going to be a guinea pig. A little human laboratory basically. An experiment.”

  “Don’t make it sound that bad. It’s really nothing terrible. Just standard procedure. All the big pharmaceutical companies used to do it.... Here, look, I need to take some blood from you now...You’d better get used to it because it’s going to be happening a lot.”

  Lily was speaking somewhat softly again, as if she was trying to be her friend.

  Jamie made a sudden snap decision. She was going to play along. Just like in those movies. Lure Lily into a false sense of security. And then, when the moment was right, she’d strike.

  “It must be hard for you now,” said Jamie. “Now that it’s just you.”

  Lily shrugged. She seemed to be preparing some kind of medical device. Maybe it was a needle, but Jamie couldn’t quite see without craning her neck in an extreme way and she didn’t want to cause herself more pain than she was already in.

  “I mean. It’s just you...You had two men here to protect you before...Now what are you going to do if someone comes in here?”

  “It’s hard to find,” said Lily, not looking up from whatever she was doing. “It’s hidden. I mean, it’s a secret government facility. It’s not like there are signs or anything.”

  “You don’t think some wandering travelers will stumble on the place?”

  “Maybe, I don’t know.”

  “You know what they say. Only the strong will survive. And the strong are the toughest to beat.”

  “You trying to scare me or something?”

  “No. I’m just saying that it’d be better if those two men were still alive.”