This Plague of Days (Omnibus): Seasons 1-3

by Robert Chazz Chute

  Light, revelation, and fearful truth

  One lane, roughly rutted and battered, thrummed under their wheels. The Spencers made good progress for an hour, but soon the way east was a narrower, gray ribbon again. Walls of battered metal and the dead closed around them, slowing their progress to a crawl.

  “It’ll be alright, Jaimie,” Theo said. “We’ll keep our eyes on the jelly, not on the traffic jam.”

  Jaimie ignored his father and craned his neck between the front seats to see the parade of misery. Abandoned cars and trucks jammed the rest of the road. If a car stalled ahead, they’d have to push it aside or be trapped.

  It must not have been respect for the breakdown lane which had kept the road open. Twisted and rent metal and shattered glass glinted in the sunlight. Something huge had plowed the way for them, wiping away all obstructions by obliterating them. Cars and trucks were pushed aside like useless toys.

  “What could do that?” Anna asked, pointing at a camper that had been torn in two.

  “Eighteen-wheelers maybe,” Jack said.

  “Or a really big snow plow,” Anna said.

  “Tanks went through here,” Mrs. Bendham said confidently. “My husband loved World War II documentaries. Only tanks could do this.”

  * * *

  The passengers stayed silent and watchful. Jack fought the urge to speed and kept the speedometer below twenty-five miles per hour. They glanced into cars as they passed, afraid of what they might see. Some cars still slow cooked the dead. Others appeared empty.

  “Lot of out-of-state plates,” Mrs. Bendham said. “When this started, the radio said the state borders were closed, not just the country’s borders.”

  Theo shook his head. “Borders are always permeable. It’s too wide with too many country roads. With this many plates? The guards are all dead, sick or they went home.”

  “Look at the oncoming lanes,” Anna said. “The road is just as jammed or worse heading west.”

  Jack glanced at her daughter. Anna looked pale. Her daughter saw some significance here that she was missing.

  “Mom, it’s like the stock market. The person selling the stock and the person buying the stock both think they’re making the best possible deal and that the other guy’s an idiot.”

  “Yes?”

  “We’re headed east, thinking we’ve got some place to be when we get to Papa’s farm. All those people were headed in the opposite direction, trying for…what? A cabin in the Rockies? Camping in Yellowstone? One last trip to Disneyland? What makes our plan any better than their plans?”

  “We’re going to get away,” Jack said. “Papa is remote and he has goats and there’s fishing and wood stoves. He moved out to The Corners to live off the land and it’s a tight community. Whoever’s left will take us because we’re family.”

  “I thought Dad didn’t talk to Papa for years.”

  “He’s there, waiting,” Theo said. His voice came stronger. He looked to his son. “We’ll have our getaway.” He squeezed Jaimie’s hand.

  “Westbound is jammed solid. This must be the way to go because this is the way the tanks went.”

  “Oh, Lord.” Mrs. Bendham said.

  Jaimie didn’t think she was praying this time.

  “Where are we going to stop, Mom?” Anna asked.

  “We don’t stop until we get to our first destination.” Jack glanced in the rear view mirror. No one was chasing them. Not yet.

  “We have to get to where there’s still civilization and authority. We’ll report Carron. He’s bound to turn up at their door eventually. They can deal with him so he won’t come after us.”

  “Whose door?” Mrs. Bendham asked.

  “When we went on our trip to the mall the other night, there was a lot of graffiti along the way. Something caught my eye. There’s a huge refugee camp. If there’s any government and rule of law left, it will be there. We’ll find out what’s going on for real.”

  “How far, Mom?”

  “Your father and I went there once. Before the plague, it would be about seven hours of driving.” Jack gripped the wheel tighter. “We might be driving much longer now. It’ll depend on how well the tanks kept the road clear. We never took you before the plague, but kids, it’s time you saw the Brickyard.”

  The stuff of old age and disappointed youth

  A huge, crudely-painted sign appeared on the left. It read in orange paint: St. Louis X’d! Keep going! Do not stop!

  Jaimie couldn’t read the cursive lettering but he recognized the exclamation points.

  Theo put a reassuring hand on Jaimie’s shoulder with a feather-light touch. “We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.”

  “Lion,” Jaimie whispered.

  Anna turned in her seat to study her brother. Jaimie peered out at the car wrecks that dotted the field to the right. “Hey, Ears. You’re looking haunted. It’s going to be okay. You know that, right?”

  The more people said, “it’s going to be okay,”, the less likely their assertion seemed. Jaimie couldn’t think of a Latin phrase for that circumstance but he’d observed the phenomenon so often since the plague, it deserved a Latin proverb.

  More messages appeared on highway signs: Do not stop. Farmers are armed.

  Another read: Full here. Trespassers will be shot and eaten.

  “Advantage: cannibals,” Anna said.

  Jack shushed her but Mrs. Bendham called out from the back seat, saying she hadn’t heard Anna and asked what had she said.

  “I said, ‘We might chance upon animals!” Then to herself, “Crazy Anne Frank-killing grandma.”

  Four times they had to steer around wrecks, navigating the narrow gap between the wall of cars to the left and the steep embankment to their right.

  The cars that blocked their way looked new. There was at least one body in each of the vehicles. Each corpse wore a white mask over its face.

  The road’s shoulder dropped steeply into the ditch. Each time they squeezed past another car, the van tipped sharply sideways and loose gravel slid under their tires. Each time they navigated the danger, Jack and Anna blew out a long breath.

  They stopped to refuel the gas tank from one of the two tall gas cans in the back.

  Mrs. Bendham said Douglas Oliver had wanted to steal a truck to transport all the gasoline. Instead, he’d only succeeded in turning the Spencer’s home into a bomb.

  The refugees saw farmers working the fields to their right and left.

  “Why aren’t they using machines?” Anna asked. “You know…seed spreaders or tractors or something?”

  “Because you only use gas for things you can’t do by hand, young lady.” Mrs. Bendham leaned forward. “Think of all these cars on this highway. Maybe you think there’s gas for years, here. But gas loses its punch over time. Siphoning gas takes time. The more you siphon, the farther you have to walk each time you need more. Before long, if you have to walk too far to carry gas, then you have to take a truck. That burns more gas. There’s no more gas coming from far away and you’re using it up day by day. Get used to it children. No matter what you believe, we’re all going back in time soon. It will be a much simpler time.”

  “Sounds boring,” Anna said.

  When the farm workers saw the van, they stopped to watch as if it wasn’t a family van but a low-flying spaceship. Children waved. The women waved them on. The men were stationed closer to the road than the rest. They carried long guns. Men stared at the refugees from behind their white masks, their eyes as cold as the dead.

  “Things won’t get back to normal until everybody runs out of bullets and takes those masks off,” Theo said. “People act worse when they have anonymity. The apocalypse is like the Internet, only instead of nasty troll comments on YouTube, it’s with gunfire. We had knob rule and now we have mob rule.”

  Jaimie remembered Theo said much the same thing when Anna wrote a paper about To Kill a Mockingbird. Jaimie had sat beside her, feeding her
potato chips slowly while she typed her report for school. She hated the greasy feel of the chips on her fingers and Theo was annoyed when she mucked up the laptop’s keyboard.

  Jaimie enjoyed watching each perfect letter unfold into words, sentences and paragraphs before his eyes on the screen. He felt agitated and withdrew the next potato chip if Anna paused, or worse, misspelled something.

  After a few times Anna recognized the pattern. “I know how to spell, Ears! It was only a typo!”

  Jack nodded toward the farmers. “Those guys don’t look very friendly, but it’s nice to see people. I was beginning to feel like we were the last people on Earth.”

  “In the movies, there’s always more people,” Anna said. “Even in the movies where they want to make you believe everyone’s dead except one guy. It’s always a guy, too.”

  “There was that Twilight Zone episode where Burgess Meredith survives nuclear war and is quite chipper that now he’ll get to read all the books he’d never got around to,” Mrs. Bendham said. “Ever see that one?”

  “Are you kidding?” Anna said. “Dad was a librarian. It’s the only show that had a librarian as the hero.”

  “Not quite true,” said Theo. “There was a neat Star Trek episode that had crazy old clone librarians. Mr. Spock reverted to his animal instincts and got a wife for a couple days, as I recall. We watched that episode together.” Theo squeezed his son’s hand.

  “Do you remember how that Twilight Zone ended?” Anna called back to Mrs. Bendham.

  “Yes. He breaks his glasses so he can’t read all those books he wanted to read.”

  Anna turned in her seat to see Mrs. Bendham’s face. “Yeah, and he says ‘It’s not fair! It’s not fair!’ over and over,” Anna said.

  “Yes, dear,” Mrs. Bendham said. “It’s true. Life’s not fair.”

  “Death, neither,” Anna said. “I wonder if you’ll act so chill about things when misfortune hits you.”

  “I lost my husband, girl.”

  “No one sees death coming,” Jack said. “And that’s if they’re lucky.” She touched her daughter’s arm and tilted her head toward the windshield.

  Anna glowered at the old woman before turning back to the road. As the farmers slipped out of view, Anna rolled down her window and waved goodbye to the families in the field. The rushing air turned her tears cold. Anna hugged herself tight, her arms criss-crossed over her stomach.

  Jaimie watched his father lean forward in his seat. Theo stroked his daughter’s hair with a gentle touch as light as the wind, as if afraid Anna might break.

  The highway signs were gone. Perhaps they’d been ripped down for firewood or simply been removed to discourage travelers.

  Past St. Louis, hand-painted signs appeared on the side of the road. Now the signs read: Turn back!

  In dreams we find the connection to what will last

  The Spencers peered into darkness, searching for road signs as the windshield wipers beat weakly at heavy rain. A sprawling sign across the highway read: REFUGEES! An orange arrow pointed at exit 69.

  Mrs. Bendham called from the back of the van. “The man who warned you the epidemic was coming — ”

  “Uncle Cliff, Dad’s twin brother,” Anna said.

  Jack glanced in her rear-view mirror. “Cliff told us to get ready early on.”

  “That’s nice. Though what kind of preparation can you do against Sutr except take your vitamins, live in an aquarium and hope for the best?”

  “We were better off because of my brother-in-law,” Jack answered.

  “Until everything was taken away.” Anna said. Jack heard something new in her daughter’s voice. That wasn’t self-pity. Anna hated the old lady.

  Good, Jack thought. Self-pity drains energy. Anger pays it out.

  Mrs. Bendham seemed oblivious to Anna’s anger. “Where is Cliff now?”

  “I hope he’s waiting for us in Maine.”

  Rain drove harder into the pavement. Jack slowed the van, paused and rolled right at a fork, following more orange arrows. Jack eyed the gas gauge. They needed more fuel. The highway obstructions and detours had delayed them more than she could have imagined. They’d left at dawn and now it was past midnight.

  As the weather worsened, refugees appeared on foot at the edge of the road, beyond the thickest of the debris field. The rain slacked off a touch and the road widened ahead as they turned onto 10th street.

  On their right, four people walked single file, a large man in the lead followed by three children. Each wore a wide-brimmed hat and a white mask. Anna rolled down her window, waving to get their attention. Jack slowed but did not stop.

  “Hey!” Anna called. “What have you heard?”

  The youngest child, a very short little boy, began to say something but went silent when the man looked back at him sharply.

  “We’re headed to the refugee camp!” Anna yelled.

  The man looked toward them and, with a short, sharp wave of his hand — a gesture that looked like it was designed to save energy — told them to move on.

  Jack pressed the accelerator and they pulled away. “Bye!” Anna yelled back. “Nice talking to you!”

  “What are they so afraid of?” Mrs. Bendham asked.

  “What’s not to be afraid of?” Jack asked. “I was afraid they’d ask for a ride. We don’t have room.”

  Anna threw a glance back at Mrs. Bendham. “We could make room.”

  Jack caught her daughter’s meaning but ignored the implication. “They don’t want to risk getting sick so they don’t want to get in here and breathe our air.” She turned the wheel, left on North Lynhurst Drive. “Watch for those orange arrows. I don’t want to miss a turn.”

  Jaimie peered into the darkness. People shuffled through darkness. They moved in sparse lines, like ants following a pheromone trail to a nest. There was no need for the orange arrows anymore. All that was necessary was to follow the people. He squeezed his father’s hand to wake him from his doze and leaned forward to touch Anna’s shoulder.

  “What is it, Ears?” Anna asked.

  He pointed ahead and to the right, onto West 16th Street. As soon as they turned right, the camp loomed ahead and to the left.

  “Anna, don’t call your brother Ears,” Jack said.

  “Ears is an endearment. I call him Lassie when I’m pissed at him.”

  “Anna!” Jack would have been angrier, but the chuckle popped out first.

  A sign ahead said they were approaching the west gate to the refugee camp. Tanks lined the street on each side and soldiers shone lights into vehicles. The weary travelers on foot crowded closer to the van, but they looked livelier now. People began to shout back down the line. “We’re here! We’re here! Not much farther! We made it!”

  A soldier with an oil lantern waved Jack to a stop and she rolled down her window. He wore no helmet. His rifle hung by a strap on his shoulder. He looked friendly. “Evening, ma’am. Y’all got any weapons? Firearms of any kind?”

  “No, sir.”

  Jaimie detected a soft Georgian accent filtering the soldier’s words. He liked the man immediately.

  “Anybody sick? No one infected in there is there?”

  “No. We’re all okay.”

  “Well, that’s fine. Over the last few days, it seems there are fewer people trying to come in with the flu. It’s petered out.”

  “Is that why you aren’t wearing a mask?”

  “Had it myself. That’s how I pulled this duty. Lost some weight and muscle, but no bug is gonna kill me. I’m hoping for a quick death at the hands of somebody’s angry husband, ma’am.”

  Anna smiled, but when she looked at the dark silhouette of the building, she felt cold inside. A single torch burned brightly at the top, like a medieval beacon buffeted by the wind. The building towered and sprawled.

  “I’ll need you to pull over to the left and the gentlemen will direct you to a parking spot. Pardon us, ma’am, but th
ey’ll have to do a quick search to confirm you have no weapons before you enter the camp. General Emery’s orders. No civilians with weapons means no angry husbands shootin’ me in the back tonight.” He winked.

  “How many have been killed by the virus?”

  The guard dropped his gaze. “I’m sure you’ll get more answers inside, plus we’ll scare up some cots and hot food. People are always coming in hungry and discombobulated so the mess is always open.”

  Discombobulated. Jaimie thought that was an excellent word. Looking at the lines of refugees, he suspected the world would never recombobulate.

  “Pull up and we’ll take care of you.”

  Jack hesitated. “Is it safe?”

  “Safe as houses, ma’am.”

  “I really wish you hadn’t said that,” Anna said.

  At that, the soldier straightened. “Miss, you and your family are under the protection of the 177th Armored under General Alphonse Emery. You are safe in the largest refugee camp in the midwest behind the largest armed force left on land. We are the last bastion of hope and we take that commitment seriously, folks. We got supply lines of helicopters searching for survivors and gathering everything we need. General Emery says we’re building another ‘shining city on a hill’ right here. Like my sergeant says, this here’s the Alamo.”

  Jack nodded and thanked the guard. “Kids, welcome to The Brickyard.”

  “Praise God, there’s still civilization somewhere,” Mrs. Bendham said.

  Another orange arrow directed them toward the next checkpoint. Beneath the arrow in a font so blocky Jaimie could read it, the sign read: Indianapolis Speedway.

  Jaimie’s mind drifted back to ants. Some ant species take care of other insects, like aphids or leafhoppers, to benefit the ant colony. But many species enslave other colonies to do their bidding.

  Then Jaimie considered what happened at the Alamo. He hoped they’d be on their way again to Papa Spence’s farm soon.

  What won’t survive and what’s best left in the past

  Dr. McInerney guided the boat to the dock expertly and barked at his passengers to tie up. Dayo had suggested they dock at the Goldcoast Golf Club. “If we run into trouble, it’ll be cool. Golf is for soft people.”