Immune

by Jacqueline Druga

  “So she is suffering,” Grace stated.

  “Look at her, what do you think?” Darshan asked. “Although sedating her would ease the suffering.” He placed hands gently on her arms. “Take a moment, think about what you’d like to do. I will assist in any way I can,” he said, and Grace nodded.

  Darshan turned to Max. “I saw the wound on your hand. Let’s see this bite.”

  Max slowly rolled up his shirt and then brought it over his head.

  Grace wasn’t as inconspicuous about her reaction as Darshan. She gasped when she saw Max’s chest. The bite mark had never been dressed and was raw, like a stretched piece of flesh was pulled across his body.

  “Three bites. Two minor,” Darshan said then whistled. “This one here, a chunk of your flesh is missing.”

  “I’m aware. It hurts like hell.”

  “I bet. Excuse me. I need a little more than what is on that cart.” Darshan turned and walked out of the exam room.

  Max brought his tee shirt to his chest and stared outward.

  Grace wanted to ask Max what she should do. However, Max was unpredictable, almost bipolar in his behavior. One moment he was quiet, reserved, the next angry and cold, and then nice. She was fearful that if she asked Max for advice he’d tell her to let the doctor put Macy down and move on with it.

  It was her daughter lying on that gurney. Macy had rolled to her side and her body was shivering. Grace grabbed the blanket on the bottom of the bed and placed it over her child.

  “Once the doctor fixes me, if he can,” Max said, “we’ll head back down to the house. We can make her comfortable there, wait it out and plan our next move.”

  Grace replied, “I thought for sure you’d say opt out and put her down.”

  Max shrugged. “That’s not my call to make. You’ve been toting her around so it’s obviously not a call you’ll make either. Not an option, as I see it. Something better than Benadryl is though, so that’s what I assumed we’d go with.”

  “If she were your child, what would you do?” Grace asked, stroking Macy’s forehead.

  “I don’t have a child.”

  “But if she were your child what would you do?”

  “I’d… I’d end it now for her.”

  Grace exhaled and nodded.

  “It’s unfair to ask me that because I don’t have a child. I don’t know what it’s like to have a child. In a bad analogy, it would be like asking me if I were Jewish would I eat pork. A hypothetical decision based on experience I don’t have.”

  Max was right and Grace knew it. He didn’t have that innate parental instinct that guided him. Grace did. When it came to her children, like every parent, she tried to think of the best interest of the child.

  Was allowing Macy to linger in the best interest of Macy or the best interest of Grace? It was something she’d grappled with all day.

  Truth was, Grace knew instinctively that her time with Macy was limited and a part of her, selfish or not, wanted to grab and hold on to every second she had left with her baby.

  EIGHT – Ellipsis

  Following Stanton’s advice, Paul gathered those who came to the shelter in a close circle in their safe haven gymnasium.

  He could tell by their faces that none of them were at ease. They were frightened, confused.

  “So you see there is some semblance of safety,” Paul told them. “We stay high up, they won’t make it to us. Even the dead... ish aren’t exhibiting the ability to climb at this time. They reach, jump, hell they’ll jump from a window at you and get back up. But at this time, they are not going up.”

  A man in the group spoke up, “We’re aren’t high. We’re in this gym.”

  “Behind steel doors.”

  “Lot of good that will do it. Get enough of them together, they’ll break in. Or worse, someone in here turns and starts a chain reaction. I was in the supermarket when one person,” he held up a finger, “one – turned. Within five minutes, anyone bitten or scratched were turning.”

  “If anyone feels safer being upstairs or locked in a classroom, you are more than welcome to go there,” Paul said. “We’re here together because it is easier to protect everyone in one place.”

  “We still need an escape plan,” the man said. “There are thousands out there.”

  “I agree. We’re working on it and will take any suggestions.”

  Someone else in the group asked, “What is this thing? Where did it come from? I mean, last we heard on the news it was in South America. Is there a cure?”

  So many questions from one person. Paul supposed everyone had the same questions.

  “There’s no cure. There wasn’t time. When it first broke out in South America, the entire town was infected in two days and to prevent spreading, they burned out the town. But it did spread. Now, there were rumors within the CDC that the germ was manmade. The town was used as an experiment. By who? We don’t know. That was never confirmed. Soon it popped up all over South America, but it wasn’t here. It wasn’t at the time airborne.”

  Stanton spoke up. “We were mobilized before the germ arrived. Before any of you probably knew, it was already here, our hospitals were seeing it. We don’t know where it is or how far it spread, we know it’s in a good bit of the United States. We’re trying like heck to get radio communications up somewhere.”

  “Unconfirmed and in no way take this as gospel,” Paul said, “I was told yesterday morning that it was over. It was here, there was no stopping it and my friend that told me believed it was a massive biological attack on the United States. That was how so many got it at once.”

  Stanton laughed. “That’s a hell of a massive attack.”

  “The government had to know,” someone in the group spoke up. “Why else do you mobilize the National Guard before a germ arrives unless they knew it was coming? No one predicts a natural virus of this magnitude. This fast. An attack makes sense.”

  Stanton shook his head. “No, it doesn’t. Explain the delivery. A bomb? We didn’t see a bomb. A lone suicide deliverer? A single infected is not going to do this, whether or not they turn an entire supermarket at once.”

  Paul cleared his throat. “No laughing. Chemtrails. Three sweeps. All major airports had embedded people to rig the planes. The pilots were none the wiser. Enough planes fly over major cities, that’s how many sweeps with the germ.”

  Stanton waved out his hand. “I will not buy chemtrails. No way.”

  “Then explain it.”

  “God.”

  Paul laughed. “And you had the audacity to ridicule my chemtrail theory.”

  Leona, Myron’s grandmother stepped forward. “Gentlemen. This little informative gathering was not supposed to be a whose balls are bigger or who can guess the best. It doesn’t matter how it happened. It happened. There isn’t a cure. Find a solution. If we are stuck here, find a way out. If other places don’t have this, find them. Work on what you can do, instead of what you can’t. Involve my Bubby because he’s smart.” She patted Paul on the cheek.

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Don’t dismiss God either. I won’t dismiss chemtrails whatever the piss they are.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Leona slipped back into the group and Paul humbly wrapped up, asking for help from anyone who had ideas or solutions. Everyone went back to what they were doing.

  It didn’t go as well as he’d hoped and Paul was certain he hadn’t made anyone feel better.

  His next order of business was to call out. Leona was right. Work on what he could do and stop worrying about what he couldn’t change or help.

  The radio equipment was moved to the principal’s office. It was quieter there, and aside from the military radio, the school had a HAM. Paul settled at the radio desk, and clueless on what to do, he played with the knobs, tuning in and listening closely to the static.

  He’d leave the calling out for Stanton.

  Paul had been at the radio for a while when Myron excitedly approached him with
the idea after the sun had set.

  Paul spun his chair around. “You want to do what?”

  “I want to take a couple guys and head into Mount Hallow to grab Big Bessie.”

  “Who is Big Bessie?”

  “Big Bessie is a what, not a who.”

  “Okay, what is Big Bessie? A weapon?”

  “You want an escape out of here, I got it,” Myron said. “Last year Mount Hallow christened their new fire truck Bessie. It has a one hundred and five foot extension ladder. Positioned correctly, that ladder can be the escape from the roof.”

  “To go where?” Paul asked. “Not that I am doubting or criticizing your ingenuity, but where?”

  “What did Tara tell you about these things? The Ragers don’t do steps, they lack the coordination to climb. Almost like their body won’t move or isn’t nimble enough. Even when they run, they don’t do steps.”

  “For now.”

  “Well, we aren’t clairvoyant,” Myron stated. “Okay my grandmother claims to be, but I’m not. It’s our cross walk over the infected if we get overrun. It’s our only out because let’s face it, unless we have a weapon that will take them all out or they all drop over at once, we’re stuck in here.”

  “Paul!” Stanton rushed into principal’s office. “Hurry up, come here, you have got to see this!”

  Paul set down the radio and followed Stanton without question. Myron trailed close behind. They went to the west wing staircase, climbing to the second floor where a ladder to the roof was waiting. Stanton climbed to the roof. Once Paul arrived, he held out his hand to Myron and they both joined Stanton on the edge.

  “What? What’s going on?” Paul questioned.

  Stanton took the spotlight and danced it across the crowd of infected. “Watch.”

  It wasn’t systematic, it was more random. And it wasn’t a lot, but it certainly made a dent. It was continuous and making its way through the thousands of Ragers. One here, one there, but without a doubt, the infected were dropping to the ground, motionless.

  Paul turned to Myron. “What was it you were saying?”

  <><><><>

  By the time they had left the hospital, it was already dark. The doctor had given Grace several doses of medication for Macy, along with instructions on what to watch for with Max. Admittedly, Grace didn’t pay attention to those.

  They were kind at the hospital. Macy was given a sponge bath and cleaned up. She smelled better and even slightly resembled her ‘old’ self. With Macy wrapped in a blanket, they left the hospital in the dark. Streetlights were out and they were guided only by a single flashlight. On the way back to the house, Macy started to stir. Grace knew she was coming out of the Benadryl sleep.

  Once they arrived at the house and were certain Eugene and Candice were fine, Grace took Macy to a bedroom on the upper floor, closed the door, and sat on the bed with her.

  She wanted to spend some time with Macy while she was awake. Hold her, look at her, try to get some sort of reaction.

  Macy was draped across Grace’s lap, clutched in her arms. Grace withheld the sedative. She’d give it to her after she spent that time. Because Grace didn’t know how much time she had left with her baby.

  Macy’s hair was smooth and brushed. Her eyes stared blankly and Grace pretended they didn’t. She thought of how Macy usually was, how much life and energy the four year old girl exuded. She was different from her big sister. Candice was grounded, practical, while Macy loved fairytales and princesses. She believed in anything magical.

  Grace’s heart was breaking. Though she wanted to be grateful for the time she had with her child, she couldn’t. She felt robbed.

  Stroking her hair, Grace spoke softly to Macy, conveying her love, her emotions. She gripped Macy’s hand, rolling her fingers between her daughter’s tiny ones, hoping, praying, wishing with all her heart for one response. One spark of Macy.

  None came.

  For as long as she could, until she had to medicate her, Grace stole time with her child.

  <><><><>

  The basement game room wasn’t bad and Max even thought it was better than his apartment. It was a huge room that, with the exception of the laundry area, spanned the entire width of the house. He blocked out the basement windows, found a lantern in the garage, and lit a fire in the small fireplace.

  Eugene had found a quiet spot across the room. He didn’t sit on the smaller sofa there, he sat on the floor, leaning his back against the bar.

  The fireplace was on the opposite side of the room, near the big screen television. Max scoured the house for clothes, and found fresh ones. He gave Eugene the shoes he found, figuring the pilot was tired of his hard black dress shoes.

  They had gotten mostly junk food from the Shotz convenience store, and Max found two cans of spaghetti in the kitchen. He grabbed utensils and items from the kitchen, dumped the spaghetti in the pot, and cooked it by the fire.

  Candice sat down by the fire near Max. “Are you sharing?”

  “Yeah, why would you ask that?”

  “You don’t look like you share.”

  “Neither do you.”

  “I don’t.” Candice brought her knees forward. “You think my Mommy is okay up there?”

  “She’s fine. She needs you and Eugene to stay away so your sister doesn’t get all freaky.”

  “Is my sister dying?”

  “I… I don’t …” Max stuttered. “Why are you talking to me? Go somewhere else.”

  “I talked to Eugene a lot. I think he’s tired of me. He’s just staring at his phone. Why are you mean to me?”

  “I’m not mean. I’m making you food, aren’t I?”

  “Yes.” Candice nodded.

  “I’m not a kid person.”

  “I can tell.”

  “Thanks.” Max stirred the pot. “It’s almost done.”

  “Where did you learn to do all this?”

  “Growing up,” Max said. “Plus, I was in the military. That helped.”

  “Are you scared?”

  “No.”

  “Not at all?”

  “No.”

  “I am.”

  “You’re a kid.” Max served some of the pasta in a bowl and handed her a bowl. “Here it’s hot.”

  Candice took the bowl. “So what did you do?”

  “You mean in the military?”

  “No. I mean to go to jail. What did you do?”

  The serving spoon slipped form Max’s hand. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because you have that tattoo between your fingers and thumb. Five dots. That’s a prison tattoo.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I watch a lot of television.”

  “Too much.” Max rolled his hand into a fist and looked down. “It was stupid getting the tattoo. Don’t ask me why.”

  “Did you rob a bank?”

  “Something like that.” Max grunted. “Eat your food.”

  The basement door opened and closed and Max peered up. Grace walked down the steps with a sleeping Macy.

  “Is she sleeping, Mommy? Did you give her the medicine?”

  “I did. I’m gonna take her over across the room to lay her down,” Grace said.

  “I’ll be over when I am done eating,” Candice showed the bowl. “Max cooked.”

  “That’s nice of him.” Carrying not only her daughter, but much sadness, Grace walked over to the other end of the room.

  She lay Macy on the smaller couch and covered her with a throw. “You don’t mind do you?” she asked Eugene.

  “No.” Eugene looked up from his phone, then lifted the bottle of wine next to him. “Drink?”

  “Maybe in a little bit.” Grace sat on the floor by him. “What are you doing?”

  “My phone is charged. I was looking at pictures of my daughter.” He showed her.

  “She’s very beautiful.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “Did you try to call her?”

  “I did. No answer. The
last I heard from her was that social media post. I replied and got nothing back.”

  “You can’t get discouraged. If she was fine and posted that her mother was sick, you and I both know she didn’t get it right way. Have you tried texting her?”

  “No.”

  “Try. Send a message. Maybe she can’t get a clear enough signal to answer the phone.”

  Eugene nodded. He looked nervous as his fingers moved. The ‘swish’ sound told Grace the message was sent.

  Eugene whispered, “Oh my God.”

  “What?” Grace moved closer.

  Eugene held the phone in front of her.

  Grace’s eyes widened. “She’s replying! The three dots means she got it and is typing,” she said excitedly. “See?”

  “She’s taking a while.”

  “Probably trying to fit it in. Instead of sending one back saying she’s all right. You know how kids are.”

  “I do,” Eugene said. “I wish I knew Leah better. I spent so much time working. I was always flying, all over the world. What about you? What did you do?”

  “I dreamt of seeing the world. My education says I am an archeologist, but the kids kept me grounded and I worked at the museum in the paleontology department, don’t ask how those are related. I dust dinosaur bones.”

  “You wanted to find buried cities. Sounds exciting.”

  “I did,” Grace said. “Actually, lost civilizations. You know, find out why whole cities had their populations disappear. I never understood how that happened. How civilizations vanished. Now…” she exhaled. “I know.”

  The ‘beep’ of Eugene’s phone indicated he had gotten a reply. Before Grace had a chance to show her enthusiasm it was curbed by Eugene’s reaction. He let out a painful groan, tossed the phone down, and covered his face.

  Grace reached down and grabbed it. Her stomach knotted in a sickening feeling when she saw the reply. A huge paragraph of nothing but strings of letters filled the blue box. It was obviously an accidental play. Fingers pressing until eventually it sent. A message that said more than any words.