Influenza: Viral Virulence

by Ohliger, Steven

  Building up his courage, he waited for the electric lights to eventually fail again.

  After a few moments, the humming lights flickered and then went out. The adrenaline rushed through his body as Michael stood up and ran out into the open and across the street. He tried to stifle the slap of his shoes against the pavement and the sound of his breath rushing in and out of his lungs. He tried to run as silently as possible.

  The streetlights were still out as he made his way across the parking lot. He raced past the SUV and looked behind it, ready to pull out his shotgun at any sign of movement. Nobody was there. As he reached the front door to the store, the lights flickered back on. He quickly spun around to face the way he had just come, with his right hand on the stock of his weapon. He pulled the shotgun out and quickly loaded a shell into the breach. No one was there. Better safe than sorry, he thought, holding the gun tightly in trembling hands.

  Again, he quickly scanned the parking lot. Nothing moved. That was when he noticed the figure in the driver’s seat of the SUV. With fear rising inside him, Michael swung his shotgun around and pointed it at the figure. Looking down the iron sights of the barrel, he aimed at the shadowy driver. As the failing light from the streetlight filtered through the windshield of the vehicle, the interior was more in shadow than not. The driver still didn’t move, nor did he take any notice of Michael leveling a pump shotgun at him. What was the man doing out in the middle of the parking lot? And why was he just sitting there in the SUV?

  Michael could see that it was a man leaning back in the driver’s seat. The man’s mouth seemed to be wide open. As Michael looked closer, he saw that the figure had dried vomit on his chin. Unseeing eyes stared straight out the window. The man was dead.

  As Michael stared in disbelief and disgust, he wondered how long the body had been there. Had he died today, yesterday, or the day before? What was even more disturbing was that no one had picked up the body. No medical personnel, no police, not even family members. Did anyone miss this man? Was there a family waiting at home for him to return? Or was everyone who knew him already dead? He swallowed the lump that had begun to form in his throat.

  How could this have happened? His mind was reeling, and some still-sane part of him wondered if he himself was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Only a few months ago, he’d had an ideal life. His biggest worry was moving out into the workforce and becoming independent. Now, his world—actually, everyone’s world—was collapsing. There were crashed vehicles in the streets, dead bodies lying exposed, and signs of violence everywhere. He wished that this was all just a bad dream and that he would wake up from the horror and be back in a comfortable, normal world. If he could just wake up…

  A metallic scratching noise to his left brought his mind crashing back into focus. Michael swung the shotgun toward the noise. It was just a crow landing on the store gutter. When his heart slowed down a little, he scanned the parking lot one last time, and then he turned his attention to the crooked sign hanging on the broken store door:

  Flu Shots Available

  Ask your friendly Pharmacist for Details

  No Appointment Needed

  Covered by most participating insurances

  As Michael stood there looking at the sign, he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so he decided to do neither.

  He looked inside and remembered that just a few days ago, Janice had been standing right there with a mask held out for him to take.

  Not bothering to open the door, Michael crouched down and simply stepped through the broken glass opening. The tiny shards of glass crunched under his shoes as he quickly cleared the doorway and moved off to the right. At least if someone was waiting inside the store to ambush him, he wouldn’t be an easy target in the exposed doorway.

  The fluorescent lights flickered off, once more plunging the store into darkness. The only illumination came from the battery-operated emergency-exit signs. As Michael stood frozen in place, he neither heard nor noticed any movement in the aisles. Maybe no one was in the store at the moment, but that didn’t mean that someone couldn’t come in through the front door at any time.

  The overhead lights cycled back on, and Michael moved slowly, from aisle to aisle, toward the back of the store. At each aisle, he stopped and looked down the length of shelves for any intruders. The store had definitely been looted. Merchandise was everywhere, scattered on the shelves haphazardly and strewn on the floor. The snack aisle had been cleaned out, and the coolers along the wall had been emptied of beer, drinks, and frozen food. Some of the glass cooler doors had been left open, and Michael could hear the motorized cooling units struggling. He was almost to the pharmacy department when the lights flickered out once again.

  He stood still and allowed his eyes to adjust to the sole light source coming from the exit sign. Being red, it gave everything a sickly hue. Once his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he made his way to the pharmacy counter. The pharmacy itself was locked. The metal gate had been lowered over the counter where customers normally paid for and received their prescriptions. As Michael looked closer, he could see where someone had tried to pry the gate open from the bottom and the side. At least, in this case, the gate had won that battle.

  The lights buzzed back on, and he moved around to the side where the entry door for the pharmacy employees was located. This door hadn’t held up as well as the gate. Looking severely damaged, it was ajar. Judging by the splintering of wood around the lock, someone had taken a crowbar or sledgehammer to it.

  Michael carefully swung the door open and peered inside. It looked as if the shelves had been ransacked just like the main store. Bottles of pills lay everywhere. Some had spilled their contents over the pharmacy floor, which was now covered with a rainbow assortment of capsules and tablets in varying shapes and sizes.

  As Michael slowly stepped into the pharmacy, his shoes knocked some loose bottles, and they went rolling across the floor. With his shotgun in one hand, he removed the empty backpack from his shoulders with his free hand. The overhead lights were still temporarily on—for how long, he didn’t know. He quickly scanned the shelves for the items he was looking for. Not surprisingly, all of the hydrocodone and benzodiazepines were missing. He grabbed a few bottles with the drug name ending in “cillin,” like amoxicillin and penicillin. He was able to scrounge up a few more antibiotics, but in this mess, he was sure there were more that he couldn’t find.

  He looked at the small refrigerator against the back wall that held some of the temperature-sensitive medications. At that moment, he was reminded of a book he had read a few years back where an EMP had taken out the electrical grid, and the main character’s daughter had needed insulin from the pharmacy to survive. He wondered now if the author realized that he had somewhat predicted future events…

  Moving closer to the back of the pharmacy, Michael saw that the locked “controlled substances” cabinet had been broken into. He guessed that the contents of this cabinet were the perpetrator’s primary goal. Everything inside had been taken. This was where the heavy-duty pain medications were stored. Since Michael had no interest in any of the controlled substances, he took no further notice. If they didn’t overdose on the plethora of drugs located within, Michael knew they’d eventually run out and would then suffer painful, if not deadly, acute withdrawal.

  Still moving as quickly as stealth would allow, Michael grabbed the last bottle of sulfamethoxazole and stuffed it into his backpack. He had himself on a strict time limit, since he knew that this store, actually any store, was a target for looters, drug-crazed addicts, and desperately hungry people. And anyone daring to loot would most probably be armed.

  Before leaving the pharmacy for what would be the last time, Michael went to the cash register. The register itself had been broken into and the cash drawer opened. Obviously, whoever broke the cash register didn’t know that the cash was removed every day and locked in a thick, fortified-steel store safe. Not that money was going to be of much use any longer. I
t may be worth something for kindling a fire…

  From his pocket, Michael pulled out his checkbook and wrote out a check to the store for an amount that he figured would cover the cost of the things he had gathered. He really didn’t know if his check would ever be deposited, but at least it eased his conscience somewhat. As he slid the check underneath the broken cash register, he wondered how futile his actions were. Was he trying to differentiate himself from a looter? Wasn’t he, by his current actions, a criminal? Or was he simply trying to survive? There wasn’t time enough right now for him to debate the finer lines of morality, so he slid the signed check under the register and left through the broken pharmacy door.

  Once out in the main part of the store again, he quickly moved to the over-the-counter medications. It was a mess, and there wasn’t much left. He grabbed a few boxes of bandages, a couple tubes of topical antibiotics, and some other miscellaneous packages of anti-inflammatories and aspirin. He eyed the bottles of hydrogen peroxide and rubbing alcohol, but realized that the weight of those bottles would be too much for him to carry, especially if he had to run. Leaving the antiseptics behind, Michael made his way quickly to the aisle that had some basic hardware tools. Not seeing what he was looking for, he returned to the front of the store and ducked back out through the broken glass of the main door.

  It was at that time that the lights went out for the very last time. The grid was down for good.

  Emerging from the store into the cool, fresh night air once again, he stood dead still and looked for any movement. Securing his full backpack on his shoulders and sliding the shotgun in its holster between his back and the pack, he prepared for the mad dash across the parking lot and street. It would be a shame to get discovered when he was almost done. Not noticing any immediate threat, Michael ran past the SUV. He purposely didn’t look at the van’s contents. His shoes pounded on the pavement, and he made it across the street and back into the shadows of the side street without incident.

  Instead of retracing his path back to the apartment, he turned and made his way toward campus. Thankful that he had walked to his classes on many occasions, he knew the way, even in the dead of night. He continued to move slowly, silently, and with as much caution as he could. He tried to melt into the darkness and remain unobserved. The pack was heavy on his back, but the contents were well worth the additional weight. The antibiotics might, as well, be worth their weight in gold. He hoped he’d never have to use them himself and that instead, he could distribute them to people in need.

  Like large, looming monoliths in the night, the university’s buildings rose in the distance. Standing tall and ominous, the once brightly lit buildings full of students now contained only empty darkness. They reminded him of oversized tombstones. Michael hugged the shadows along the pristinely manicured hedges running around the old brick structures.

  The campus was very quiet and still. The wind rustled through the tree leaves as Michael continued on his way to the base of the library building. The days of studying for his Applied Therapeutics test seemed like such a long time ago. It was a different world back then, and now these new, dark days enveloped the land.

  He saw flashes from his left before he heard anything. Rows of student dormitory buildings lined the left side of the campus across a dark field. The flashes came from the second building on his left. One of the darkened windows on the first floor lit up three times in rapid succession, followed by the report of pistol fire.

  At the first flash of gunfire, Michael sprang into action and ran to the nearest tree. It was a thick, sturdy oak tree. Pressing his body tightly against the tree trunk, he tried his best to melt into the tree. The rough bark dug into his back as he peered around it. He looked back toward the dark dormitory. There were no further flashes of light or sound. All was quiet and dark again. But those black, soulless windows stared down at him like openings to graves. Anyone could be behind those openings, just waiting for him to break cover. He knew he would eventually have to move on. He couldn’t stay hidden behind the tree forever.

  As his body remained flattened against the tree, part of him wanted to draw his shotgun and go help whoever remained in the student dormitory. Someone could still be alive, and others could need help. Part of him said there was nothing he could do. Maybe there was no one left alive, and only bad people were hiding there, waiting for him. Or maybe there was an overwhelming number of desperate people with guns that would be more than happy to relieve him of his provisions…and his life. Then, it dawned on him that maybe someone was actually shooting at him from one of the rooms and had just missed him.

  And then there was the fact that Lorie was trapped in the large, empty sorority house all by herself. No matter how much of him wanted to go into the student dormitories to see if he could help, the thought of risking his life and, ultimately, Lorie’s life, drove him onward. Ducking back down, Michael ran half-crouched across the college lawn toward the sorority house. Even though the university was pitch-dark, someone could easily pick out his silhouette racing across the open field. He tried to keep his body low enough to the ground to remain unobserved. Hopefully, the overgrown grass would give him a little cover.

  His ears picked up a sudden noise from somewhere behind him. Instantly, he half dove, half rolled into a prone position on the ground. Holding his breath for as long as he could, he listened intently. The seconds ticked by, but he didn’t hear or see anything. It could be his imagination playing tricks on him, or it could be just a dead branch that had decided to fall at that particular moment.

  Unable to hold his breath any longer, he exhaled the diminishing oxygen that he was holding in his lungs and inhaled gratefully. But what entered his nose and lungs made him gag. A putrid, coppery smell engulfed his senses and made his eyes water. It smelled worse than raw sewage. Trying to force his stomach contents back where they belonged, Michael scanned the grassy field around him with trepidation. A few yards behind him and a little to the right was a form lying in the grass; something that didn’t belong there.

  It was just a little blacker than the grass around it and was the source of the nauseating stench. Michael whipped his head around when he recognized a distinctly human shape to it. Adrenaline raced through his veins as he jumped up, not caring any longer if anyone saw him or not. Thinking about nothing except needing to put distance between himself and the decaying body, he ran as fast as he could with the heavy pack bouncing against his back.

  After what seemed an eternity, he finally arrived, huffing and puffing, at the sorority house and dove into the thick grass bordering the porch. Thankfully, no one had seen him, and no one seemed to be following him. Still breathing heavily from his sprint across the lawn, he chided himself for panicking. He couldn’t allow himself to succumb to basic emotions like that. In the future, it just might get him killed.

  After resting below the porch for a few minutes, Michael peered up at the three-story house before him. It was massive. He had seen it many times before but had never set foot inside. He knew that it was a beautiful, white Victorian structure with handsomely painted siding, trim, and porch. But in the dark of the night, he could see neither the color nor the handcrafted details that accompanied the old house. In fact, right now it looked like one of those creepy haunted houses in horror movies.

  Michael was glad that absolutely no light could be seen coming from the house. It looked completely abandoned. Lorie had listened and heeded his advice. The best defense for her was to let other people believe that the house was empty.

  He took a few more minutes in his hiding place under the porch overhang, waiting and listening. Then, quietly climbing up the porch steps, Michael took a moment to marvel that these wooden steps didn’t make any sound, in contrast to his own squeaky apartment steps. At the top, instead of proceeding to the front door, he made his way around the porch to the little-used side door. He paused there and then rapped out the prearranged sequence of knocks on the wood frame.

  After a few mo
ments, the door opened a crack, and Lorie peered out. As her eyes met his, he refrained from a sudden impulse to hug and kiss her. Instead, he winked and whispered to her with a grin, “I bet you’ve never been picked up for a date like this.”

  “You’d win your bet,” Lorie said softly. He could tell by the look on her face that she was extremely relieved to see him.

  At that moment, Michael realized how much he had missed her. Even though they had kept in contact by phone every day, he was amazed at how happy he was to see her. “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “All ready. Just like you said,” she replied. “It took you long enough to get here. It seemed like I was waiting here for weeks.”

  “You have been waiting here for weeks.” He glanced down at her jeans. She had strapped a large carving knife to her belt within easy reach of her right hand. Nice, he thought to himself.

  Following his gaze, she said, “A girl needs a little protection.” She looked back toward the university campus and said solemnly, “We’d better go. Things are getting really bad tonight. I’ve heard a lot of disturbing noises coming from over there.” She indicated the campus buildings. “It’s only a matter of time before someone’s curiosity about this house brings them this way.”

  “Where is your stuff?”

  “Here,” she said, opening the side door a little wider. She wheeled out two large rolling suitcases and strapped a large pack on her back.

  Michael eyed the suitcases and smartly refrained from saying anything. He wished he had his truck now. Pulling one suitcase behind her, Lorie indicated that he could take the other one. He grabbed the handle and pulled. Wow, it was heavy! “What do you have in here?”