Prepper's Sacrifice

by John Lundin

  With a sanitizing station, a bed fitted with plastic wrapping, lots of water and food as well as gloves and other necessary equipment in place, Stewart felt accomplished. His next course of action was to bring the ladder from the basement up to the quarantine room. This would be necessary as the quarantine room was on the second level of their home and anyone entering would need to do so through the window. He put the ladder in place, leaning it beside the window, before settling down on the floor to catch his breath.

  ‘Stewy...Stewy…’ came Anne’s voice.

  He hurried to his feet, knowing that what waited for him was another yelling match about why he needed to go to work and how his boss was surely going to fire him.

  ‘Why don’t you just quit already? Just quit already, will you?’ Anne had repeated what felt like a thousand times, in their previous conversation. Though he knew she had a point, he was holding on to the hope that a cure would be found and his fears of leaving the house would be eradicated. Stewart wasn’t up for it. He was sick and tired of fighting with his wife, but each time that he considered leaving his home, he could just feel the deadly virus seeping into his skin. In fact a part of him shuddered when he thought about caressing his wife when she came home. He thought about the hands she had shaken, the door handles she had touched, and the countless people who came way too close to her. However, there was no turning a cold shoulder to his wife. He knew that she was being careful. He’d managed to hop out to her car once when she was asleep to see that she was, indeed, making good use of the box of hand sanitizers he had so smartly positioned in her trunk. From a box of twenty travel size hand sanitizers, Anne had gone through eight in a little over a week.

  ‘I’m coming, Anne… I’ll be there in a minute,’ he said, hopping up from the corner of the room and pretty much sprinting his way down to the first level of their home.

  His wife looked distraught. There must have been something else bothering her. Stewart knew that his new introverted lifestyle was taking a toll on her, but this was definitely something else.

  ‘Oh my god, you’re not sick, are you?’ he said, holding her at arm’s length.

  ‘No Stewy, I’m fine. I’m really fine, but do you remember Erica?’

  ‘Erica… Erica...’ Stewart searched his memory for an Erica. The only person who came to mind was the intern from his office. He didn’t think Anne would be so worked up about a girl from his workplace, so he was certain it couldn’t be her. ‘No, I don’t think I know an Erica.’

  ‘Redhead, big boobs, works in the office down the hall from me.’

  ‘Big boobs… not many girls in your office with big boobs…’ Stewart tried to joke, but Anne wasn’t having it.

  ‘Damn it Stewy, I’m trying to tell you something here. The girl who everyone thought was having an affair with my boss.’

  ‘Ah, yes. Of course. Now I know who you’re talking about. What’s wrong with Erica?’

  ‘She’s sick. Someone said she left work with a high fever and everyone was thinking that she might have it.’ Anne’s face turned pale.

  ‘It?’

  ‘Ebola! Damn it, Stewart. The only thing you’re obsessed with, and you can’t put two and two together?’

  It wasn't that Stewart had no idea what she was talking about. However, seeing his wife in this state definitely made him concerned. As a result, it became difficult for him to quickly process the information she was feeding to him.

  ‘Oh shit. No way. Did you touch her? Was she in your office?’ His eyes widened with panic.

  ‘She doesn’t have it!’ Anne exclaimed, though she didn't seem relieved by the fact.

  ‘What?’

  ‘She doesn’t have it.’

  ‘So what’s all the panicking about? Why would you come home acting as though you just found out that your entire office was at risk?’

  If it hadn’t been for that hopeless look on his wife’s face, Stewart might have raised his voice. She instilled a new level of fear in him without even knowing it and all for nothing, it seemed.

  ‘Because I finally understand. I mean, she’s only got the flu, but for the hours that everyone was wandering around guessing who came in contact with her and who didn’t, I understood. I totally get what you’re saying and I don’t blame you. I don’t blame you at all for staying at home. I mean, if it was Ebola, what on earth would I do? I couldn’t come home to you, knowing that I’d put you at risk.’

  ‘You would come home,’ he emphasized. 'You contracting it wouldn’t put me at risk, not until you’re showing symptoms, at least. And plus, I’ve got our new quarantine room ready and you can bet that I’d nurse your right back to good health.’

  ‘You’re trying to tell me that you’re better than all those doctors in the hospital that couldn’t nurse anyone back from Ebola?’

  ‘You know, Anne, just the way that you could make the most horrible meal taste good because you put enough love into it, I could make you better because I’d put enough love into it.’

  ***

  Stewart reached over and pulled Anne in for a hug. She squeezed tightly as her husband showed her the affection she very much needed. No matter how chaotic the world outside was, Stewart definitely knew how to make her feel safe- regardless of being the center of panic himself. A part of her wished he could internalize the things that he said to her, believe them enough to snap out of his fears. But she knew that it wasn’t possible. She knew that comforting her was easier than comforting himself or allowing her to comfort him.

  Though she had calmed down a bit, she was in no way over the fear that she had shot into her by her coworker being thought to be ill. She knew that from now on, it was worth being a little more cautious and considered staying home for a few days, at the very least. After all, she didn’t only have herself and her safety to think about. She needed to ensure that she wouldn’t be the one to put her husband at risk.

  Stewart pulled his wife away from her thoughts. 'Would you like to take a look at the room?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ she said, and they both went up to the room to take a look.

  ‘Look, I’ve even put a TV in here, so that whoever’s in the room won’t be bored to death.’

  Stewart flicked on the television and then froze. Anne’s mouth widened with surprise as she saw the words roll across the bottom of the television screen.

  Chapter 4

  There wasn’t enough skin on Stewart’s body to fit the goosebumps that wanted to make their way over him. The high Florida temperatures didn’t have the capability to keep his temperature from falling. Instead, a cold wind of fear took over, making him speechless and breathless at the same time.

  ‘This can’t be happening,’ he exclaimed.

  He turned to look at his wife, who seemed to be having a hard time closing her mouth.

  ‘How could they allow something like this to happen?’ he said to Anne. She didn’t reply. ‘Anne!’

  ‘Stewy. Is it time to start worrying?’

  Stewart almost cackled at the oddness of the question. After all, worry was something he’d felt a long time ago before there was really a cause for concern. Worry was what had kept him home from work, what had prompted the state of panic Anne knew he was in.

  ‘No, Anne. Not at all. We’ll be safe. We’re safe right where we are. They like to over-exaggerate the headlines. It makes it hard for us to switch the channel.’ He didn’t believe a word he was saying. But what was he supposed to tell her? All the things he’d been spewing in the past few months about the potential of the virus weren't fact. They were paranoia. However, the idea that a single passenger had infected almost everyone else on an airplane was fact. It was a fact that no matter how he tried to flip it; no matter how he tried to play it down, it was simply the scariest news they could have heard.

  Before Stewart could offer even more consolation, Anne stopped him in his tracks. ‘Shh. I wanna hear this, Stewy.’

  Stewart drew back and positioned himself closely to his wife.
He thought about draping his arm over her shoulder but refrained from doing so in the fear that she’d sense the terror trembling through his entire body. The minute Stewart saw the look on the reporter’s face, his heart sunk even deeper into his chest. When she started to speak, he was sure it had stopped pounding.

  ‘The World Health Organization is calling for the passengers who took flight number SA184 from Liberia to Fort Lauderdale on September the 3rd, to get in contact with the necessary authorities. Reports have come in that a pregnant passenger, confirmed to be infected with the Ebola Virus Disease, may have infected a large number of the plane’s passengers as well as flight attendants.

  Why was the infected passenger allowed on the airplane? How many people came in contact with the passenger? These are just a few of the questions citizens are demanding answers to. Officials from Liberia stated that the infected passenger did not reveal that she had been in contact with the virus, and had not shown symptoms prior to entering the airplane. However, things took a turn for the worst when a mere two hours after the flight had left Liberia, her condition deteriorated. Amongst these symptoms were vomiting which is believed to be the main source of bodily fluid the passengers came in contact with.

  A flight attendant from the airline was quoted saying, ‘she was pregnant and so it wasn’t the strangest thing for her to be throwing up. I’ve been working as a flight attendant for over five years and it’s not the first time that I’ve come across an incident like this. My coworkers and I just tried to get the aisle and the bathroom cleaned up as much as possible and a couple of passengers pitched in to help. The last thing on my mind was Ebola. I mean, she was pregnant. Pregnant women throw up. Unfortunately, unlike the other cases this flight attendant had to deal with, these symptoms weren’t due to pregnancy...’

  Stewart knew Anne had heard enough when she grabbed the remote from the television stand and forcefully clicked the Off button.

  ‘It’s okay, Anne.’ Stewart rested a hand on his wife’s shoulder.

  Anne looked at her husband with tears welling in her eyes. ‘As though thinking my coworker was infected wasn’t enough. Now we’ve got to deal with this. Except there’s no happy ending here. This lady doesn’t have the flu and her poor baby… What’s going to happen? Oh gosh, all those people who were on the plane, and their families.’

  Filled with panic himself, Stewart wasn’t sure how to comfort her. ‘They’re gonna find them—’

  ‘Find them? Sure, they’ll find them alright, but what about all the people they came in contact with? It’s been over three days now since that plane landed here. Who knows how many of them started to show symptoms and shrugged it off as the common cold, only to pass it on to more people than they can count on their fingers and toes?’

  ‘The average is eight days, Anne. So in all likelihood, even if a few of them are infected, they won’t be passing it on to anyone.’

  ‘Screw averages. I can’t… I just can’t… This is too much.’

  She broke down in her husband’s arms and Stewart held onto her for dear life. The day really hadn’t gone in his wife’s favor and this news just added fuel to the fire. While holding her, all Stewart could think about was how bad things could get and how there was nothing he could do about it. Sure, he had a stockpile. Sure, he didn’t mind staying home. But Anne, she was outgoing. She loved work. She wouldn’t like being locked away twenty-four hours a day with him and his stockpile.

  Chapter 5

  Over the next few weeks, the virus wreaked havoc on Fort Lauderdale. One case here, another there and of course, more false alarms than one should have to deal with; it seemed as if no one was safe. With Fort Lauderdale International hospital being the main treatment center for Florida Ebola victims, Stewart and his wife felt as though staying home was the only option they had. In fact, their last trip out of their home was focused on getting all the things they believed they still needed. The grocery store and the hardware store were the only two stops they had made. Stewart had joked about wearing the hazmat suits he had bought online. On this final trip out of the confines of their home, it seemed as though everyone had heard that the grocery store cut their prices in half. Of course, this was not the case. Quite the contrary and Stewart spotted a few items with prices he was sure went up by a minimum of fifty percent. The shelves were empty, the register lines were long, parking spaces were a dime a dozen and the panic was evident. Every cough and sneeze led to scorned looks and whispers.

  Anne had cashed in all her vacation days, something that her boss wasn’t necessarily happy about, considering the most of his employees were fighting for excuses to stay home. However, since Anne had never—in the five years she had been working for the company—taken a vacation, there was no saying ‘no.' At home, she occupied herself by dedicating her time to nurturing her vegetable garden.

  ***

  ‘I’m gonna head inside and get a drink. Want something?’

  Stewart stuck the shovel into the ground and caught his breath. ‘Absolutely,’ he said, nodding profusely.

  He retrieved the small towel he had so neatly tucked into his back pocket and swept it across his face. ‘Damn it,’ he sighed to himself, ‘how on earth do people enjoy going to the gym?’

  He had been outside for a mere hour, shoveling away at the ground with the intention of digging holes deep enough to hold the trash they’d surely accumulate over the coming weeks. Though his wife had voiced her opinion on how ridiculous she found the idea, Stewart knew it was a necessity. Things were nowhere as bad as they could be. But with delays in trash pickup due to strikes and possible illnesses—though no one would confirm this detail—Stewart and Anne had seen a significant increase in the amount of trash their home housed on a biweekly basis.

  ‘Here you go, honey.’ Anne handed her husband a tall glass of lemonade with about a half a tray of ice cubes.

  ‘You’re the best,’ he replied, carefully retrieving the glass from her hand. Without pausing to firmly grasp the glass, he tilted it up and took a swig before losing his grip and spilling the juice all over himself.

  Anne cracked up. ‘You’re like a little baby.’

  ‘More like a man who’s never worked out in his entire life.’ He picked the glass from the ground and set it down in an upright position. ‘Look at this. One more hour and I won’t have any skin left on my palms.’

  There were blisters forming everywhere. However, this wouldn’t stop Stewart from digging away at the ground for as long as it was bright out. He knew that the time would come where going outside needed to be a quick deal and then, there’d be no chance of embarking on a one-man shoveling journey.

  ‘Gosh, Stewy. That doesn’t look good at all. Why didn’t you wrap something around it before you got to work?’

  ‘Didn’t think about it to be honest. Thought my hands were rough enough to deal with a little friction.’

  ‘Evidently not. Come, let’s go inside and get this dressed up. I don’t feel like having to giggle my way to sleep because of your whimpering.’

  ‘I’m just gonna finish up first. I mean, my muscles hurt more than these blisters.’

  ‘I don’t see why you’re doing this to yourself. It’s like torture.’

  ‘Nah. I see it more like a surefire way to get a good back rub and tending to from my wife.’

  Anne chuckled. 'I’m sure you’re not out here rubbing skin off your hands for a little tending to. I’ll be back in a sec. I’m gonna get some bandages.’

  ‘So does that mean I won’t be getting a massage? I mean, come on. Look how great I did. These holes will hold more trash than the city dump.’

  Anne didn’t answer.

  Stewart watched as his wife walked away and he could almost see the smile stretched across her face. There was no doubt in his mind that she’d be rubbing each and every bit of tension out of his back before they went to bed. For the first time in a while, he didn’t feel stressed and threatened by the Ebola outbreak that was holding the city
hostage.

  ‘Vacation,’ he said to himself, remembering their conversation with Tim. ‘This here is the perfect vacation.’

  ‘Vacation!’ A boisterous voice chimed from a few feet away. ‘Can’t say I blame you, really. Except after news of that plane broke, I don’t think I’ll see setting foot on one of those for a while.’

  ‘Ah, Ed. How’s it going buddy?’

  ‘Nothing much really. Feels like I haven’t seen you in a good minute. What you been doing? Hiding away from the sun.’

  ‘More like the virus, to be honest. Gotta keep your distance from the center of the action these days.’

  Stewart used the word ‘buddy’ very loosely. Ed was a lot of things, but Stewart’s ‘buddy’ wasn’t one of them. It wasn't that he didn’t try to like the guy; more that Ed made it increasingly hard. He was the kind of neighbor who didn’t miss a beat when it came to the happenings of the neighborhood and Stewart hated being spied on. Even more unnerving was Ed’s knack for gossiping, the way he knew everything about everyone and was never short of an opinion—that was a big turn off for Stewart.

  Stewart decided to make a beeline for his house. Inside, Anne was pouring a fresh glass of lemonade. Stewart turned to his wife with a smile. ‘Weren’t you supposed to bring me some bandages for my hand? Instead you had me suffering with the darn shovel.’

  Anne made her way over to her Stewart, who was standing with his back pressed against the mahogany front door. ‘Oh sweetie, your hands were already bleeding. Plus, you pretty much hurried inside, right after me.’ She took his hands into hers and said with a grin, ‘Now, you’re not a boy anymore. I think you could use your hands getting a bit rugged. ’