Inoculation Zero: Welcome to the Stone Age

by Ison, S. A.

  17 June

  Topsfield, Maine

  Kelly sat with her feet propped up on the coffee table, her small toes bright red with acrylic polish. She balanced her laptop on her lap as she ate dinner: baked chicken, courtesy of one of the chickionies out in the coop, and steamed broccoli, courtesy of her greenhouse. The hefferdoodles were not happy that one of their own had gone missing into the cook pot, even though her flock had grown by thirteen. She needed to keep the size of the flock within reason, as she didn’t need too many chickens, so she was eating baked chicken. She’d have to kill and process a few more hens to reduce the numbers further, and freeze them for future dinners. It was all thanks to Prometheus.

  The little bantam hussy had gone missing for days, and Kelly had feared that a fox had gotten her. But she’d shown up again, then once again vanished. One day the previous week, the little hussy had come into the garden with thirteen little chicks in tow. Some of the chicks had looked suspiciously like Rhode Island Reds. The bantam rooster, he looked to be a Bard Plymouth Rock, was small, but apparently had no trouble mounting the bigger hens. Then, too, it seemed that some of the bigger hens had deposited their eggs into the bantam’s nest. What a bunch of hussies, she thought, just like cuckoos.

  She’d decided to name the little black hen Prometheus, and the rooster Casanova. She really should get rid of the rooster, but she enjoyed the crowing. She found she also loved watching Prometheus with her babies as they scratched around the yard. The other hens were curious, but Prometheus kept them away from her chicks.

  Kelly watched news clips, and checked out what was going on around the world. She didn’t have cable or satellite, only her DVD players and TVs so she could watch her movies. She did have internet, though, and found many programs she enjoyed watching, so didn’t miss the mindless droning of cable and the endless commercials. She could be selective, but still had to put up with advertisements.

  More and more incidents of a virus were popping up. It’d first been thought a flu virus, but now it looked as though it was something else. Isolated cases were reported, and looked to be a strain of Ebola. But the fact that the cases were showing up all over the world was very worrisome. They named it EVD1-0.

  Great she thought, just like a few years ago. She remembered there’d been a big to do, when a doctor from Doctors Without Borders returned to Boston, Massachusetts. He’d been doing humanitarian work, treating Ebola patients. Boston had been up in arms about it. They’d wanted him quarantined, even though he wasn’t sick. He pretty much told them to kiss his ass.

  Kelly also remembered the twins who’d snuck into the country and flown into Arizona or someplace. That had been scary, and she’d often wondered how the people who had flown on that flight had felt when they found out. To have someone carrying a deadly virus knowingly be around others in close confinement? To hug and kiss family members and friends, knowing you have a deadly infection? The twin sisters had ended up dying, if she remembered correctly. And as far as she knew, no one else had gotten infected.

  “I’d have been damned pissed about it,” Kelly grumbled under her breath. Schrodinger’s Cat lifted her massive head in question.

  “It’s nothing, honey, go back to sleep. Mommy’s just reading some really scary news.” Kelly said to the liquid brown eyes staring at her. This was some troubling news; not only was the virus showing up all over the world, but also in totally different parts of the country. There were reported cases in Chicago, St. Louis, Texas, and D.C. Also, today she saw that China and Germany were reporting cases. The World Health Organization had begun to look into the incidents.

  Pandemics were rare, but not unheard of because of all the international fights. It would bear watching for sure. She didn’t feel too worried, especially surrounded as she was by miles and miles of wilderness and forests. She knew all it would take was a trip into town, but again, nothing had been mentioned about Maine.

  That was good, but she thought perhaps on her next trip out she would pick up some medical supplies just in case, and perhaps more food supplies for herself and the animals. If this thing was spreading as fast as it appeared to be, it wouldn’t take any time to get to Maine, if it hadn’t reached Maine already.

  One never knew, and it was stupid not to be prepared for whatever came, especially with remote living. Her first winter in Maine, she had learned that the hard way. She’d thought she’d been prepared, but a blizzard to come through. And though she had 4WD, it was impossible to drive down the road with four-foot drifts. She’d quickly realized she couldn’t take the chance of getting stranded with no way to get food or medical help.

  Though she’d had food, and plenty of it, the thought of being unreachable for weeks had made her rethink her food supply situation. From then on, she’d made it her mission to have several months’ worth of food and supplies on hand for herself and her animals. Her cell phone worked fine for emergencies, but getting a cut or scrape, or diarrhea and vomiting, well, it was just smart to have something on hand. She’d pick up some things for Tim as well if she didn’t see him before she left. He usually kept his phone off, but she would try anyway.

  Chicago, Illinois

  Mike was drinking his coffee while scrolling through his messages. He was reading about the cases of some kind of virus, they were calling it EVD1-0, that were popping up around the country. It was even in Chicago. That wasn’t good. He looked around online for more info about it, and found that it was some kind of Ebola variant, and nasty, very fast and deadly. People were being urged to go to the emergency room if any symptoms were present, like severe headaches, vomiting, diarrhea, or bleeding gums.

  There was a list with more symptoms or combinations of symptoms, and also several emergency numbers. People were being advised to take precautions. Mike thought it might be a good idea to skip on over to Stephen’s apartment and tell them about it. He considered maybe picking up more food and supplies on the way over, so they wouldn’t have to go out as much.

  He thought perhaps he might also pick up some masks and hand sanitizer; they couldn’t hurt. He looked at the mass of humanity that walked around him at the café, and wondered if any of them were infected. Who knew? With so many people, anything was possible. He watched an old man walk by, coughing hard into his fisted hand. Mike’s skin skittered with primordial fear, and his hairs stood erect. He didn’t think himself foolish for thinking that way. He wouldn’t panic, but he’d be proactive.

  When Mike arrived at the apartment, laden down with several bags, Stephen was sitting on the couch clicking away on the remote. Alisa was in the kitchen making a dinner to celebrate Stephen’s twenty-seventh birthday, and they were waiting on Zack.

  “Hey, check this,” Stephen called out.

  On CNN, a news banner flashed up about EDV1-0. The three read in silence and Mike turned the TV volume up.

  An Ebola like virus, EDV1-0, combined with some kind of respiratory symptoms, is hitting large urban locations across the world. The first cases were reported in St. Louis, Chicago, and Dallas. California, Nevada, Arizona, and New Mexico have report widespread cases this morning. Also internationally, Germany, the UK, China, and Mexico are reporting massive numbers. Mainland China has shut down all air travel both inside and outside the country, and have locked down all land borders. Locally, Chicago is reporting sporadic but increasing numbers of cases.

  Alisa whimpered softly, her soft lips trembling. Stephen grew still, and paled even more than his normal fair coloring as the blood drained from his face. Mike saw the fear, and felt the hairs on his body rise again. He couldn’t comprehend the speed at which the virus had traveled, or how far. He gripped his hands together to hold back the trembling.

  “What are we going to do?” Alisa asked, her voice quavering with fear, as her hands spread protectively over her stomach.

  “Shit, I don’t know,” Stephen said, looking over to Mike.

  “Keep a low profile. I stopped by the store on the way here and picked up some food,
also some masks and hand sanitizer,” Mike said, nodding his head toward to the bags on the kitchen counter.

  “I’d better call Zack, let him know what is going on.” Alisa reached for her cell phone, her hand shaking.

  “Maybe we need to leave here, get out of the city,” Mike said.

  “Where the fuck are we going to go?” Stephen asked, with no heat in his voice.

  “My parents had a place in Bridgman. It’s mine now. It’s a rental most of the summer, but right now there isn’t anyone there. Also, it’s in like a gated community, so it has security guards and all that shit. Maybe we can get some more supplies, head there, and wait this thing out?” Mike suggested.

  “Zack isn’t answering. Maybe we should go over.” Worry was in Alisa’s voice, her face very pale.

  “You pack some shit, Ali. Me and Mike will go get food and whatever else. We’ll swing over by Zack’s place and pick him up on our way out of town. Make sure you pack good. I don’t want to come back here till they give the all clear.”

  Mike and Stephen left the apartment, and jumped into Mike’s Mercedes sedan. His parents hadn’t been rich, but they’d done well, and when they’d been killed in a boating accident two years ago, Mike had inherited their penthouse on West Erie street, overlooking downtown Chicago, which he rented out. It had large floor-to-ceiling windows with a large balcony. He’d also inherited the small but elegant lake house in Bridgman.

  Mike and Stephen split up in the store, each filling their carts. He took note that there was no panic yet, no sign that anyone knew or cared about the virus outbreak. Better for us, Mike thought. He slowed his pace, his panic beginning to subside. Mike had suggested that Stephen get baby formula and diapers and other things for the baby. Stephen had argued that the baby was a couple months away, and surely this shit will have passed by then.

  “Yeah, and what if it hasn’t? What if it gets worse? Do you want to have to go out and try to buy shit when everyone is shitting and puking all over?”

  “This is fucking bullshit!” Stephen’s panic was chocking him, his whisper harsh.

  “Just shut the hell up, brother, and get the stuff. Don’t argue, just get it,” Mike said kindly. Mike was a calming influence.

  Mike filled his cart with five-pound bags of rice, ten pounds of sugar, and three large cans of ground coffee. He went to the bean aisle and grabbed up twenty pounds of pintos. He also got several jars of peanut butter, ten pounds of flour, two jars of yeast, three boxes of salt and ten pounds of pasta. His cart was filling up fast, and he was starting to feel eyes staring into the back of his head. He moved quickly, and caught up to Stephen, who had filled his cart with baby items. Mike suggested they go to the check-out and leave; they were starting to draw unwanted attention.

  They drove in silence afterward, until they reached Save-A-Lot. The store had everything they needed, and this too began to calm both men down. Mike began to think more coherently. The store was crowded, but Mike saw that people were shopping as usual, no mad dashes, no panic or fear on customers’ faces. The store hummed with muted voices, and an announcement would come over the PA periodically, announcing specials.

  Once again, he and Stephen split up. They were running out of room in his car, and Mike knew they’d have to do another trip. They picked up canned and boxed foods, TP, beer, and other important foods. Mike picked up a couple of first aid kits, along with water filters. The cottage had well water, but it took filters.

  Mike’s father had also gotten a Berkey water filtration system; it held two gallons of water, and filtered out any microbes, and also heavy metals. His mother had used it for cooking and coffee-making. He didn’t know how long they would need to stay at the cottage. Though the filters were expensive, they were worth it and would last up to six thousand gallons.

  He remembered a lesson from biology, when they were studying about HIV and AIDs. It had struck him profoundly the way one person could be the progenitor of many deaths. It was like a spider’s web, as one person led to three, then from there ten and exponential growth. This virus was already heading around the world, and though the numbers were comparatively low now, it was only a matter of time. And in cities, people lived too close to be able to avoid it.

  He and Stephen would have to make a few trips back from the cottage to do more shopping. There just wasn’t enough room in the car for all the things they needed.

  “Let’s go get Alisa and her douchebag brother and go to the cottage and drop them off. We can then head back out later today or tomorrow to get more supplies. I just want to get the hell out of this city,” Mike said.

  ***

  Pulling the loaded car in front of the brownstone, Stephen got out. They had stopped by Chandler’s, but the eatery was closed. They’d then come to Zack’s place on their way out of town. There’d been no panic in the streets, and people walked around them, seemingly oblivious.

  Alisa opened her door. Stephen stopped her. “No, stay here. I’ll go up, and if he isn’t there, I’ll shove this note under his door.” Stephen held up the note. “It tells him to come and meet us at the cottage, and to bring more food and his shit.” He turned and went up the steps and into the building.

  Climbing up to the fourth floor, Stephen could smell a nasty odor; it had hit him when he’d first entered the building, but grew stronger with each flight he climbed. The hair began to prickle along his spine and arms. He could feel the sweat trickle down his neck and back, his T-shirt clinging to him. The stench was strong up where his brother-in-law lived. It was a sweet, rotting smell with overtones of vomit and shit.

  Knocking on the door, Stephen waited, looking around at the other doors, wondering if anyone was watching through their peepholes. He knocked again, louder. Fear started to tendril up around the base of his skull. Embryonic warning bells were going off in his head; the primitive side of his brain knew what was going on, and the logical side was catching up quickly.

  He took hold of the doorknob with a trembling hand, and turned. It was unlocked. He cracked the door open a tiny bit, and the smell that flooded out made his body jerk, and he vomited violently. He didn’t even realize he’d vomited until he saw it on the floor and on his chest.

  Flinging himself from the wall, Stephen ran, ripping at his shirt to pull it off. He fell, and grabbed the railing. Hauling himself up, he ran down the stairs as fast as he could, drool coming from his mouth as he tried to hold back more vomit, he wiped at his face with his shirt. Tears and snot streamed from his face.

  It was so indescribably foul, that horrible stench. It was worse than death; it was nightmarish. He almost vomited again, just thinking of it. He reached the front portal of the apartment building and flung himself out the door, gulping the clean air, desperate to clear his sinuses and lungs of the oily stench of death and rot and corruption. He jerked the hand sanitizer out of his back pocket and squeezed nearly the whole bottle in his hand. He didn’t notice the tears streaming down his face.

  He heard Alisa cry out when she saw him, and he could feel her try to pass him. He reached blindly for her, pulling her to a halt. “Don’t! Don’t you dare!” he yelled, as he let the soiled shirt fall to the ground.

  23 June

  Topsfield, Maine

  Kelly was out in the yard. She had a big fire going, and all her canning equipment and paraphernalia were out on the wooden table. She was going to can her tomatoes today. The ones in the greenhouse had surpassed her expectations. Those in the garden were growing well, with the help of copious amount of chicken manure, worm castings and bone meal, which had been mixed into the soil last fall and earlier in the spring.

  A warm summer, with just the right amount of rain to sun ratio, would give her a bumper crop in the fall. At least, so she understood from her research. For now, she concentrated on her greenhouse tomatoes. Her jars were sterilized, and she had the first batch in the pressure canner. It was a messy business, but she was proud of herself. She only used pint jars, as it was only herself here. Thou
gh she’d also give Tim some of the jars. She wanted to give them to the local food pantry, but they only wanted store-bought canned foods. Today she would can about 25 pints. In another week she would have more tomatoes to can.

  Schrodinger’s Cat barked once, and looked to Kelly. Kelly stood for a moment, listening. Soon, she heard the clopping of hooves; it was Tim, coming for a visit. Good. She could give him a couple jars of tomatoes once they were cooled. Chance came loping around the tree line, his long tongue hanging over large teeth. Schrodinger’s Cat sat patiently by Kelly. She wouldn’t leave to go visit until given the signal. She watched Kelly, her eyes shifting between her and Chance.

  Kelly released her dog, and watched with amusement as the pair circled each other and sniffed. She raised her hand in greeting as Tim’s horse, Butter, came around the trees. He smiled a slow smile and slid off Butter. He’d brought a large bucket, no doubt filled with blackberries, and Kelly was happy. They were the last of the season. She could can those as well, and maybe try to make a blackberry cobbler. She had already put 30 pints of blackberries in her basement last week, and the five-gallon bucket Tim had brought was indeed full. He must have searched the woods for these.

  “How goes it? What news of the world?” Tim asked, taking the camp chair. She really needed to bring out another chair, Kelly thought.

  “Let’s see. The stock exchange is doing its normal dance. Congress doing their normal dodge, saw a cute cat video—I’ll show you later—and there is a nasty virus floating out there, looks like it’s gone global. I don’t have cooties, by the way,” she rattled off as she poured coffee into a mug and handed it to him. She placed the camp coffee pot back on the grill, beside the pressure cooker. Soft hisses were emanating from the pot, the rocker rocking gently.

  “Computer or biological?” Tim asked, his eyes crinkling at the steam from the coffee as he sipped cautiously.