Cough

by Druga, Jacqueline

  “Please God, just one more lucid moment. Just one.”

  Devastated wasn’t strong enough of a word to describe how Macy felt. Her entire being felt bolted to the sofa. He heart broke so badly it physically hurt. She had lost her children’s father, her neighbor, she herself was fighting day to day, and while one son miraculously thwarted off the virus, the other was dying in her arms. Her oldest child, her first hope for the future. The first time in her life she experienced a love that couldn’t be measured and the pain she experienced while she faced losing him was unequivocally just as deep.

  Clay stirred and coughed. Macy squeezed him tighter. It had become a habit to squeeze him every time he coughed. Then he opened he opened his eyes.

  “Please God, just one more lucid moment. Just one.”

  Clay stared at her. Macy was ready. The syringe was on the arm of the sofa and she held on a bit tighter.

  “Clay.”

  “Mom.”

  He said her name and Macy released an aching whimper.

  “Sweetie, can you hear me?”

  “Mom, can you make sure I saved my game.” He said weakly. “I was on level twenty.”

  Emotionally, Macy laughed, but it was one of relief. She embraced him into her and kissed him. “I will. I will. I love you so much.”

  “I love you too,” Clay coughed. Then he rested against her. He coughed once more and fell back to sleep.

  Macy closed her eyes forcing the tears that welled there to run down her face and she quietly cried. Her prayer was answered. She got a lucid moment. That wouldn’t stop her from hoping for another while she still had time. But at least she had one more moment, one more I love you, and to Macy that was a gift she would cling to as she clung to her son for whatever remaining time she had left with him.

  Thirty-THREE - News Travels

  Littlefield, AZ

  July 5

  Wells was a man who barely slept and his insomnia was worse after the outbreak. Those with the medical teams and National Guard were buzzing all night as well. Fielding caught up to Wells as he made his rounds to slap a white bracelet on his wrist.

  “Immune,” Fielding said. “You have natural immunities to the virus.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” Wells looked at the band. He didn’t need that vaccine after all.

  “Not many of those will be given out,” said Fielding. “The virus has a five percent immunity rate.”

  Wells then proceeded to tell him that they’d probably need more than five percent white bands for Littlefield. He let them know that the car crash that released the virus also had an antidote and the town used a bunch of doses before the government came and took it.

  “Most of them, tried to take off once the virus hit,” Wells said. “But they couldn’t get though the blockade. I’m sure they’re in their homes.”

  He gave Fielding a number that was inoculating, but he wasn’t sure who Stokes hit in the immediate aftermath of the accident.

  “Well, that’s good news for your town.”

  “How so.”

  “With the number of five percent immune, and those infected and dead, your town is pretty much done with the virus. At least by our figures. Another day or two, you will be virus free.”

  “Not virus free while people are still sick and carriers.”

  Fielding didn’t answer.

  Wells didn’t expect he would and then without pushing, Wells went about his rounds. He stopped at the radio station. The DJ proudly sported a white band, he still wasn’t coming out of the station. He’d keep the music and information flowing but he wasn’t coming out.

  Accepting that and not arguing, Wells continued on his morning rounds.

  There wasn’t much to do. Most of the town had hunkered down in fear or was sick and fighting it.

  As he walked the quiet streets, lit only by the early morning sky, he heard it.

  A distinctive sound. A shovel against dirt. The sound of the heavy instrument hit the ground, the shifting of dirt followed by a grunt, grew louder as he walked. After every few grunts was a whimper of sadness.

  Wells knew the source of the sound or believed he knew it and headed farther down the street.

  He was right. He followed that noise and it took him to Macy’s backyard.

  She was center of her yard, shovel in hand, digging. Shovel to the ground, she grunted as she heaved dirt back.

  A lump formed in throat. It was thick and made it unable for him to speak at first. Her face was drawn with sadness and after every lift of dirt, she smeared her tears across her face.

  “Macy,” Wells called her name as he stepped into the yard. “What’s going on?”

  She stopped and looked at him. “Do you really need to ask?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I am too.”

  “Macy ….”

  “He passed away two hours ago,” She sniffed. “A part of me died, too. He was peaceful at the end.”

  Wells lowered his head. “Macy …”

  “I’m gonna bury him here. He loved this yard.”

  “Macy, you can’t …”

  “Can’t what?” she halted then spoke passionately... “Can’t dig a hole. No, Chief, I am not turn my son over to the Army, not tossing him to the curb like trash, putting him in storage or lumping into some mass grave to be burned. No, I am burying my son.”

  “That wasn’t what I was saying,” Wells reached out. “You can’t do this. You are in too much pain physically and emotionally. Let me.”

  Macy stared.

  “Please.”

  “I need to do this.”

  “I understand. And you can stay right here, but let me do the hard part.”

  “This is the easy part.” Her voice cracked, then after a moment hesitation she handed over the shovel. Her eyes shifted down to his hand. “What’s that?”

  “This?” He took the shovel and shook his wrist. “The blood. I’m immune.”

  “They can tell that?”

  “Yeah.”

  Suddenly her voice filled with some hope. “Maybe Thomas is.”

  “Maybe.” Wells looked at the bracelet. “You never know.”

  “Hopefully they’ll let me know soon. If they say he’s immune, that’s all I need. That would be all I need. Then I know … I wouldn’t have to bury another son.”

  Wells pressed his lips together tightly and nodded. “Let’s hope.” He planted the shovel in the dirt. “Let’s hope.”

  <><><><>

  Garfield County, MT

  Nadia accepted the kiss to the cheek from her husband David as she poured a cup of coffee, she was home, she was exhausted, and just wanted to get to work. Her home was located on a private lot of land, far removed from the city and there she had built her own research facility with a Level Four lab. It was previously, an old military installation, a small base. Now it was home to her entire family. Her children all had homes on the land.

  They were secluded and private and because of that, they were given clemency against the Savior Initiative.

  Keep them secluded, quarantined and away from the public. That was the rule. Nadia would follow it.

  “You should rest,” David said.

  “No such thing,” Nadia replied. “Davey is already working in the lab. I won’t stop until this thing is over.”

  David turned and looked at the small kitchen television. “The country is in an uproar. They’re divided on these camps.”

  “Of course they are. The camps won’t work at first. There will be problems, because it takes more time than just a day or two to get ready to accept hundreds of thousands of people.”

  “I thought it was in the millions.”

  “Yeah, but this is aimed mainly at those who are doing the treatment. Most larger cities won’t be able to move the ill there, they’re gonna be shut down.”

  “So from bad to worse?” David asked.

  “That’s my guess.”

  “Our daughter thinks these are concentr
ation camps, and that they are gonna kill the sick.”

  Nadia only looked up over the rim of her coffee cup.

  “Nadia, dear God, they can’t do that.”

  “Any of the ill that make it into a camp, that don’t respond to treatment or are already deeply symptomatic ... they can’t help.”

  “So they kill them.”

  “They will medicate them to a comfortable state.” Nadia sighed out. “Trust me, cutting off the source of the virus is the only way to stop this thing. Even those in treatment are still highly contagious. Containing them until a cure is found is the only way to stop the spread.”

  “How long?”

  Nadia shrugged. “I don’t know. There are a lot of big cities that despite best efforts won’t be able to be shut down. There will be a lot of contagious people moving about. But the less out there roaming freely, the more chance we have of containing this.”

  “What about the treatment? Do you think that maybe it’s possible that long term treatment might toss the virus into some sort of remission.”

  ‘Maybe, but unlikely” she said. “It’s hard to tell.”

  “Is it possible the treatment will stop working?”

  “Unfortunately, that’s a possibility as well.”

  David sighed out. “So, even though I feel fine, I shouldn’t rely on this treatment to keep me alive.”

  “No, you shouldn’t. You should rely on me,” Nadia said. “Because I am not giving up until I have this thing beat.”

  Nadia meant her words, everyone one she said. She said them with a confident smile on her face. However she knew it was going to be a long, tough struggle because in an essence, she was working alone in the battle to find a cure.

  <><><><>

  Russell, NV

  Albert and Stokes had arrived in the town of Russell to drop off the medication to the Council woman for the forty that were sick in their town. They were in the middle of doing that when Albert stepped away to take the call from his brother, he had been trying to reach him all day and night.

  “Clay Anderson caught the virus,” Wells said. “Treatment didn’t work.”

  “On my God,” Albert said softly. But he knew his words alerted Stokes.

  “He passed away a few hours ago. Where are you guys?”

  “Russell. We’ll be there shortly.”

  Albert hung up and turned.

  “What happened? What’s wrong?” Stokes asked.

  Albert debated on saying anything, but he was certain his mood gave it away. “Macy’s boy, Clay died a couple hours ago.”

  “What?” Stokes said shocked.

  “He got sick. Treatment didn’t work. He died.”

  “How’s Macy?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Stokes turned to the council woman, “There should be enough there for months. Let us know if you need more.”

  “I will,” she said. “Good luck.”

  Stokes raced out the door.

  Albert hurried and followed. “We’ll get there soon enough.”

  “I wasn’t there when I was needed,” Stokes said opening the car door.

  “Why is this so personal to you? Why the Anderson family?”

  Both men got in the car.

  “Because they were the face of what I did. I allowed the virus to travel. I was the one who let them drive it in their car. Macy was in that store, I saw her at the crash. I stood next to her when the town dropped. She was the constant with me. The face. I wanted to see them through this. If they were the one thing I could make right, then I had to do it. I failed. Now Macy is mourning her son and hasn’t a clue that the other one isn’t gonna get sick. Because I didn’t tell her.”

  “Tell her what?”

  “That I gave Thomas the antidote at the crash site.”

  “Well, whether you were there or not,” Albert started to car. “You gave the boy the antidote, so you did not fail.”

  “That’s a matter of opinion. Most of the town is dead. Trust me I failed.”

  Instead of saying something sarcastic, or something to lighten the mood, or fight Stokes’ self psychological annihilation, Albert just put the car in drive and headed back to Littlefield. There was nothing he could say.

  <><><><>

  Wells put the phone in his pocket.

  “Are they okay?” Macy asked.

  “Yeah, they’ll be here within an hour.”

  Macy looked at Thomas who stared at the mound of dirt, then she glanced to Wells. “Maybe we should have waited for them.”

  “No.” Wells shook his head. “You needed to bury him. We did it.”

  “If I didn’t do it now,” Macy said sadly. “I don’t think I could have done it. Now, I just don’t know how I’m gonna make it through this.”

  The sound of airbrakes caught their attention. It was loud and came from the front of the house. Within seconds, Macy heard the pounding on a door. Was it hers?

  Grabbing Thomas’ hand, she walked around to the front of the house with Wells. A huge military truck was parked out front.

  Two soldiers were at her door, along with a man in a bio hazard suit.

  “Fielding?” Wells asked. “What’s going on?”

  Fielding ignored him. “Macy Anderson?”

  “Yes,” Macy answered.

  “We are going to have to have you come with us,” Fielding said.

  “What?” Macy asked shocked.

  “Wait. No.” Wells argued.

  “By order of the president, all persons exposed and or infected are to report to mandatory quarantine centers. You have five minutes to pack a bag.”

  “Wait no.” Macy cried.

  “Mom.”

  “You can’t do this.” Wells blasted.

  “I just lost my son.” Macy pleaded.

  “I’m sorry Ma’am, five minutes.” Fielding said.

  Macy stared at him for a second, seeing mainly her own reflection in his facial mask. Her lips quivered, and she squeezed Thomas’ hand.

  “Mommy?”

  “How long will we be there?” she asked.

  “Macy …” Wells interjected.

  “We don’t know.”

  Macy nodded. “Stay here,” she told Thomas then opened her door.

  “Macy,” Wells stopped her. “What are you doing?”

  “I don’t think I have a choice here, Chief. I think I better pack our bag.” She opened the door and went inside.

  Once inside her home, Macy was overwhelmed. She was still in a state of shock and deep grief, now she had to throw together a bag to go away. She wondered how one packs for an indefinite trip?

  Since it was an indefinite quarantine, she hoped that they had the clothing aspect figured out. Macy didn’t have a ‘bag’, she hadn’t taken a vacation in years. The only thing she had was the oversized back pack. After hurriedly tossing in some clothes for her and Thomas, she raced about the house grabbing other items.

  All the treatment medication, her phone, Kindle, chargers. She tossed in photographs, especially the ones taken at summer camp.

  The knock at her front door, told her time was up and Macy shouldered the back pack, took one more look at her home and walked out.

  “Where are you taking her?” Wells asked Fielding.

  “OS-124, we’ll have more information once things get settled there in a few days.”

  “We’re ready,” she said, grabbing Thomas’ hand and stepping forward.

  “Ma’am I’m sorry,” Fielding said. “Just you. The boy stays.”

  “What no. I can’t leave my son.”

  “This way …” He nodded at the soldiers.

  Then he took hold of her arm, leading her.

  “Mom!” Thomas cried out.

  Macy fought. “Don’t take me from my son. No, he’s been exposed. He has to go.”

  “He was tested yesterday. He’s immune.”

  Macy stopped. She immediately looked at Thomas and saw the white band. Though she was heartbroken that she had to
leave him, an odd sense of relief hit her because at that moment she knew, without a doubt, he was going to be okay, he wasn’t going to get sick. She wouldn’t bury another child. As bad as everything was, that was a bright spot.

  “Let me say goodbye.”

  The soldier pulled on her arm.

  Macy whipped out from his hold. “Let me say goodbye to my son!”

  As soon as she turned from the soldier’s hold, Thomas plastered her with an embrace.

  “Don’t go.”

  “I have to go.” She crouched down to be eye to eye with him, and then she hugged him, looking up to Wells. “Will you take care of him?”

  “I got this. He’ll be fine.”

  “No, I won’t,” Thomas cried.

  “Yes. You will. Listen to me,” Macy placed her hands on his cheeks. “You be strong. Okay. Chief Wells is gonna take care of you. I know this is tough, but I have to go. I’ll be back. I will.” She kissed his forehead, then each check before holding him so tight she could have squeezed the air from him. “I love you. I love you so much.”

  “I love you too.”

  “Okay, I gotta go.” Another kiss and Macy stood.

  “Mom.” He grabbed her arm.

  “I have to go.” Macy walked with the soldiers. Thomas held on.

  “Please. Please don’t go.”

  Macy tried with diligence to be strong. To be a vision of strength for her son to see, yet inside she crumbled. For as much as he didn’t want to let go, Macy didn’t want to either.

  Wells intervened, pulling Thomas away. “Let go of Mom. Let go,” he said.

  All the way to the truck, Macy looked at Thomas never breaking eye contact as he stood, back against Wells, sobbing.

  The soldier tossed her bag in the back of the truck, then helped Macy inside the back end. Others from town were in the truck, they nodded as a greeting to her.

  Macy sat on the end of the bench seating.

  The soldier shouted. “We’re in. Let’s go.”

  She grabbed her bag, as the truck jolted. They didn’t waste any time. Within seconds they began to pull out. As the truck rolled down the road, Macy continued to watch Thomas.