by Roberts, EM
“I won’t lie. Some women do feel discomfort. You will feel a pressure that can be painful, but it will be over quickly,” he said in what Elizabeth thought was a rehearsed speech which she could only imagine he gave to all of his patients. As he spoke, she couldn’t look him in the eye, instead focusing on the small mole near his right nostril which tended moved comically as he spoke.
“Ok. We are ready to begin. Just lie back and relax,” the doctor requested as he placed Elizabeth’s feet in the stirrups. Her legs immediately started to shake.
“I am going to examine you first, and then we will complete the procedure. Please try to calm down,” the doctor explained as he slid two fingers into her causing her to flinch.
She closed her eyes, humiliation burning into her. Don’t think about it. Think about something good.
“We are going to start now,” the doctor stated a minute or so later, sliding a tube into her.
Elizabeth glanced at the ceiling, tensing. Red, blue, green, and yellow butterflies floated above her head. She fixated on them as she heard the humming of a machine. She imagined she was on a beach somewhere, the sun warming her skin. She could hear the waves crashing and children laughing.
She gasped as a pressure filled her womb. The doctor wasn’t lying. It wasn’t as much painful as it was uncomfortable. She bit her lip and a tear escaped one closed eye.
She felt the nurse’s hand on her head: “Relax, it’s almost over.”
After what seemed like an eternity later but couldn’t have been more than a minute or two, the doctor stood and shed his gloves, the latex snapping in the silence.
“That’s it?” she asked, raising herself up on one elbow. The feeling of pain was already subsiding.
“Yes, it is completed. The nurse will finish with you and you will be on your way shortly,” the doctor smiled, showing a slight overbite. With that announcement, he turned and made his way out of the room, a fleeting person in her life. So much for bedside manner, she thought. She wondered how many more of these procedures he would perform today.
She no longer felt any pain. The whole procedure had taken less than ten minutes. Just like that, a pregnancy had been terminated. The surprising thing was she only felt relief. No regrets. She’d been worried she might have a few. She didn’t even really think of the thing inside of her as a baby because it couldn’t survive on its own. It’d been easy to make the decision based on that line of reasoning.
“What kind of birth control would you like?” the nurse asked as she handed Elizabeth clothes and a couple of menstrual pads.
“Oh, I guess the pill,” Elizabeth said as she placed a pad in her panties and pulled on her pants. Buttoning her shirt, she turned to the nurse.
“Okay, sweetheart, let’s go to the recovery center. You’ll need to stay there about an hour so we can make sure you’re okay before you leave. Did someone come with you?” The nurse actually seemed much nicer now that the procedure was over.
“No, will I be able to ride my bike? I live about a mile from here,” she asked, feeling foolish since she hadn’t realized she may not be able to ride her bike back home. What kind of idiot rode a bike to an abortion center, anyway? An idiot who hadn’t wanted to explain taking a taxi to school this morning, she guessed.
“I wouldn’t advise it, but we can call you a taxi,” the nurse replied as she led Elizabeth to the recovery room.
“Now, make sure you eat some of the fruit snacks or cookies and have some apple or orange juice. I’ll return shortly to check your vitals and give you the prescription,” the nurse ordered as Elizabeth helped herself to a chocolate chip cookie and a juice box.
She sat in one of the plush, comfortable chairs and pulled a yellow fleece blanket around her. She placed the heating pad over her lower abdomen and relaxed with its warmth. She wondered how many other women had used the same blanket and heating pad today? She glanced around at the other occupants who’d just disposed of their unwanted babies. A young girl with tear streaks in her makeup sat across the room. Elizabeth judged her to be no more than sixteen years old. An older woman held her hand and stroked her hair. Elizabeth could never imagine her own mother doing the same.
A woman in a business suit sat two chairs down from Elizabeth. She looked around the same age as Elizabeth’s own mother. She felt slightly better at this discovery. Even older, seemingly successful women made mistakes. However, she could also never imagine her mother in this situation. Her mother was perfect. And, Izzy didn’t even mean that in a mean, condescending way. Her mother truly succeeded at everything.
For the next hour, she closed her eyes and listened to the conversation around her. The young girl, a local public school student, was concerned with how the procedure would affect her position on the basketball team this fall. The older female patient revealed via phone call she was returning to work after lunch from her doctor’s appointment but would be a little late--no mention of an abortion. Elizabeth had no one to console her and assure her she’d made the right decision. She could tell no one about this. No one she knew would understand her choice. She had no close friends in which to confide her secret.
Later, as she biked home in lieu of the taxi, she formulated an excuse for her lateness and sickly pallor. The bike ride was uncomfortable but bearable. She supposed she would pay for her act of foolishness later. She would tell her mother she’d started her period early and that she was having severe cramps. Hopefully, this would suffice as an excuse for her sickly behavior.
Three days later, Elizabeth almost felt normal. She was still having some bleeding, but there was no pain other than the occasional cramp. The first night, she’d dreamed of the dead baby. It was floating around in a dark vacuum of space crying endlessly for her. The dream had made her feel a little guilty. But only just for a moment. She presumed that was a normal response, but she still felt no regrets. She couldn’t be tied down to a child and couldn’t allow her mistake to ruin her future plans. There was no place in her life for a child--at least not for a long, long while. Also, her parents would’ve had a fit. She simply couldn’t see them playing the role of doting grandparents.
Tonight, she had to play the dutiful daughter. It was her parent’s 25th wedding anniversary. There would be one to two hundred guests milling around the James’ backyard. Even though the weather would be mild, her parents still expected a big turnout. Caterers and other service crews were transforming the back lawn into a classy party scene. Her mother was no doubt at the salon getting a complete makeover, and from last night’s conversation, she knew her father was at the golf course with his buddies.
There were still a couple of hours before she needed to get ready. She supposed she should take a shower and do her hair. Her mother had asked if she’d wanted to accompany her to the salon, but Elizabeth couldn’t handle the criticism and censure she was sure to receive while in her mother’s company. She walked into the bathroom and shed her clothes. After taking a quick shower, she wrapped her hair in a towel and dried off. Looking into the mirror, she sighed. She was a Plain Jane. She had smooth, clear skin and her eyes were brown, nothing special. Her hair was cut in a boring conservative, bob. One time, she’d begged her mother for blonde streaks in her mousy, brown hair. That had resulted in an hour long lecture about class and social stature, so she’d never broached the subject again.
Her mother was correct when she’d scathingly criticized Elizabeth for gaining weight. She’d gained about fifteen pounds over the past two years. At 5’4 inches and wearing a size 10, she could afford to lose 10-20 pounds. She squeezed the slight belly fat around her middle as she stared in the mirror. Her mother was constantly dropping little hints about Elizabeth’s size. Of course, she always excused it by saying it was a mother’s concern for her daughter’s health. Well, Elizabeth thought, not everyone could be a size two like her mother.
Crossing to the walk-in closet, she took stock of its contents. Boring, boring, and more boring. She grabbed a black sheath trimmed in wh
ite made by a famous designer. That would have to do. After drying her hair and adding some mascara and lip gloss, she slid into the black dress and slipped on a pair of black pumps. Looking at herself in the mirror, she frowned. She wished she was wearing something that would really knock everyone’s socks off. All of her life, she’d dressed and acted in a manner dictated by her parents. She couldn’t wait to graduate college, get a job, and move out on her own. Maybe then, she could be the person she wanted to be.
She walked down the spiral staircase and out into the crowd of dignified and special people. She smiled politely and nodded. It was her duty to mingle and make small talk. She had to earn the tuition her parents were paying the University for her education by making nice with people who didn’t know the meaning of the word. She posed with her parents and smiled her fake smile. How she hated the plasticity of it all. This was not her life, but it was the only life she’d ever known. Someday, she vowed, she would not be ruled by her parents.
*****
A month later, she remembered those words as she once again stood in front of her bedroom mirror. Well, she wouldn’t be ruled by her parents anymore because they were dead. At least, she thought they were. She’d never wanted her freedom that way--not in a million years. For all of her mother’s criticisms and her father’s indifference, she’d still loved them. They’d become infected by the virus currently sweeping across the nation as well as the whole world. People were sick and dying everywhere, and there were talks of Washington being evacuated and bombed to exterminate the creatures that walked the streets. The electric had been out for days and cell phone service just as long. The only communication still working was the radio, and that was sporadic. She’d been cooped up in this house for days without human contact. There was no food left and no choice except to leave.
Thankfully, she hadn’t been placed in the situation of having to kill her parents. Upon discovering their illness, they’d checked themselves into one of the centers set up for treatment. At the time, people didn’t realize there was no treatment. There was no cure. Her parents had turned into those gaunt, skeletal looking creatures that were milling around outside even now. For all she knew, they could be wandering around the city of Washington feasting on the living. She hoped not. She hoped someone had released them from their infliction.
It was imperative she leave the house as soon as possible. She had to do one thing first, though. She took out the scissors and began chopping off her hair. She stopped when it was only a couple of inches long all over. She took some gel in her fingers and ran it through her hair, giving it a punky, edgy look. She looked at herself in the mirror. She liked it, and it would be easy to take care of out on the road. She grabbed a black tee out of her closet and the only pair of jeans she owned. Dressing in them, she threw a couple more suitable outfits into a backpack.
Grabbing the now heavy backpack and sliding the small handgun she’d confiscated from her father’s room into the holster on her belt, she started toward the garage. She’d never fired a gun before this last month, but she was sure she could eventually master it. Already, she was becoming a decent shot. It’d been a crash course for her, but she’d managed to make do.
She stepped into the attached garage and looked over the three parked cars. She chose her father’s Land Rover. It didn’t get great gas mileage, but it was better than the other two, plus it would get her where she needed to go which was out of town. She’d decided she would head to Tennessee, one of the places she’d volunteered. While helping there, she’d met several wonderful families who’d invited her to visit any time she wanted. She loved the area, so it seemed inevitable she go there. She didn’t know if any of them were alive or not, but at least it was a plan, and Tennessee wasn’t that far away.
The trouble was the interstates were clogged with traffic and wrecks. She guessed she would attempt to take back roads. Having never driven a long distance, she’d outlined the drive in an atlas she’d taken from her father’s office. She opened the outer garage door and gasped at the number of the infected walking around. She quickly jumped into the vehicle. She would have to gun it, or they would overtake the vehicle. Luckily, the Land Rover was built for rugged terrain. Giving the vehicle gas, she backed into the street, running over and mowing down several of the creatures in the process. She cringed as she heard bones snap and pop under the wheels of the vehicle. She sped away, swerving through the road, trying to avoid obstacles while also trying to avoid the creatures who’d take control of the city.
Things didn’t quite work out as planned. The Land Rover had only gotten her out of the city and into the Allegheny Mountains of West Virginia before running out of gas. Thinking she would find a gas station, she’d started walking. A nice older couple had picked her up and taken her home with them. She’d planned on leaving as soon as she found transportation but had come to like the man and woman and hadn’t left out of fear for their safety. As much as she tried to be hard and unemotional, she had a soft streak for the elderly.
She’d stayed there for three months when suddenly without warning in the middle of the night, the old woman had turned into an infected creature and attacked her husband. That was when Elizabeth had found out that a bite could also carry the virus. Within minutes, her husband had turned. Elizabeth, crying because she’d come to care for the two elderly people, had shot both of them in the head. She’d seriously thought about just leaving them without killing them, but she knew that was a fate worse than death.
She took their old car and drove for about a hundred miles before it ran out of gas. She’d then walked some and drove some depending on the available transportation. During her journey, she’d dyed her hair black and green, just because she could. She’d been surprised because it had actually turned out well! She was proud of herself because she was becoming more and more self-sufficient especially since she had no else to do things for her. Sometimes, it was a matter or trial and error, but overall she was surviving. She rather enjoyed roughing it. It made her feel strong.
. She’d picked up another gun, some more ammunition, and new clothes along the way. There were a few weeks when she’d been snowed in and thought she would go crazy, but that had passed. Almost six months had passed since the first outbreak, and even though the world was pretty shitty, Elizabeth could honestly say, she’d never been happier with her life. She was finally learning to function on her own.
It wasn’t until she’d met her idol, Parker Wallace, that she’d used the name Izzy. One of children she’d met in Tennessee hadn’t been able to pronounce her name properly, so he’d called her Izzybeth. She’d loved the new name, so all of the folks in Tennessee had started calling her Izzy. When she’d introduced herself to Parker Wallace, it just seemed natural to go by Izzy. Elizabeth was her past. Izzy was her future.
Chapter 6: A Message from God
The man glanced over at his companion. He smiled and wiped the brain matter from his face. There was no joy in the killing of the infected, he thought looking down at the poor, pitiful creature. It was the kill of the warm-blooded, living sinner that kept him going. And, boy, were there sinners! Everywhere the two of them traveled, they’d encountered the sinners. His wife participated in the judgment of sinners because he was her master in all things, and she knew what would happen if she didn’t.
He’d passed judgment on three small communities, thus far. With so many people succumbing to the virus and many more becoming victims of the infected, it was hard to find a community with living people. He’d come across three in his sojourn from Maine to West Virginia. His initial plan had been to travel down to the Gulf of Mexico, converting lost souls along the way. Maybe he’d have a group of followers by then, and they could find their own island and live in peace and worship. It hadn’t been an easy or successful trip so far as he’d been sidetracked several times during his trip with a more important mission: vengeance.
So far, he’d judged around twenty sinners. A few had been stragglers alone on
the road, but had, nonetheless, been sinners. The remainder had been groups of survivors. No one had been worthy of the gift of life. Each small town or community he and his wife had entered, the occupants always illustrated their sinful ways. They were greedy and selfish or lustful and promiscuous. Even in times like these, Jesus expected his fellow man to show compassion and charity. The man had been appointed the chosen one, the one who would judge whether his fellow man was showing compassion, charity, and living an honorable life. God wanted him to take vengeance on the remaining members of mankind who weren’t taking advantage of the second chance they’d been given.
It had all come to him in a dream a couple of weeks before the first wave of outbreaks. In his dream, he was standing at the edge of a cliff looking over a vast area of desert. It was dark, yet there were rays of red light streaking the horizon. It was a very symbolic dream, he now knew that much. People lay sick and dying everywhere. Groans and cries filled the air. Smoke rose from the rubble of distant cities and houses. A voice spoke to him saying, “You must do what needs done. You must deliver vengeance in my name.”
He awoke drenched in sweat, his heart pounding out of his chest. He wondered what the dream meant. He waited patiently for its translation. Even when people turned on each other and partook of the flesh, he waited. When the United Nations dropped bombs on overrun cities in the distance, he waited. Then had come the silence. No bombs, no people milling around--only the undead creatures. He realized it was time to carry out the Lord’s vengeance on the remaining survivors. Packing his truck with supplies and food, he began his journey.
