Influenza: Viral Virulence

by Ohliger, Steven

  Michael stayed motionless until the sounds of the bike started to recede. He exhaled slowly with relief. They hadn’t been seen.

  Suddenly, he felt unexpected movement on his right. Startled, he looked over just in time to see Scott move from behind the cover of the bushes and start making his way back up the bank toward the road.

  “Scott!” he cried in a voice just loud enough to be heard. “Where are you going? Get back!”

  “I want to see who it was,” Scott said quietly.

  Just then, Murphy’s Law kicked in. At the moment Scott emerged from behind the bush, the unknown bicycle rider fumbled with his newly acquired bag of beef jerky and dropped it. Stopping the bike, he turned around to retrieve the bag and caught sight of Scott.

  “Hey!” he cried out. He turned his bike around and started pumping the pedals furiously. He was on Scott in no time.

  Michael winced at the chain of events that had led them to this point. He didn’t know what to do. He and Brian were still concealed behind the bush, but Scott had been spotted.

  Whoever was on the bike had probably just shot and killed Richard for a bag of beef jerky. He had no doubt that Scott would be next if they didn’t help him. The bicycle skidded to a stop directly in front of the bush. Michael strained to see through the bushes, but he couldn’t make out who the rider of the bicycle was. He could barely see a silhouette, but he wasn’t sure if it was the unknown male or just a trick of the sunlight streaming through the leaves.

  “Look what we have here!” the voice said, amused.

  Michael recognized that voice. It wasn’t a voice he was soon going to forget. Crazy Ted from the bar! What was he doing out here? Of all people, why did they have to run into this lunatic?

  “Weasel! What are you doing out here? And where are your other weasel friends?”

  “I’m here all alone,” Scott lied, sounding submissive. “All my friends got sick with the flu.”

  “Isn’t karma a bitch?” he heard Ted ask Scott.

  Michael could see Scott, but he couldn’t see Ted. He could only estimate where Ted was from the sound of his voice. And Scott looked like a deer caught in headlights. Scott didn’t say anything but slowly lifted his hands in the air. By his body behavior, Michael could tell that Scott was currently looking down the barrel of a gun.

  “I repeat!” Ted said, starting to sound aggravated. “Where is your weasel friend? We have some unfinished business to settle!”

  Michael had to give Scott credit. Scott hadn’t glanced in their direction once. If he had, Ted would have figured out that there was someone hiding behind the bush. Instead, Scott tried to remain calm and said, “It’s just me.”

  “Just you?” Crazy Ted said. “Well, I can start the payback on you. Have anything in your sack there?” he asked, indicating Scott’s backpack.

  “No,” Scott said, still looking directly at Ted.

  Michael slowly brought the shotgun up to his shoulder. As Ted continued to speak, Michael tried to figure out exactly where he was standing.

  “No? Nothing?” Ted asked in disbelief.

  Michael heard the unmistakable sound of the click of a gun hammer being pulled back into firing position. If he was going to act, he’d have to act now. The life of his friend was in the balance. But if he missed, then both he and Brian would be in danger. Scott would be dead either way.

  “Are you sure you don’t know where your friend…” Ted started to ask.

  Michael fired. He fired blindly through the bushes at the place where he guessed Ted was. The sound from the shotgun was deafening, but Michael barely noticed. While moving from a crouched to a standing position, he quickly chambered another shell and pulled the trigger again.

  Sidestepping out from behind the bush, Michael pumped a third shell into firing position.

  Ted’s bicycle, if it actually was his bike, was lying on its side. As Michael cleared the bush and stepped out into the open, he saw Ted lying on the gravel road beside the bicycle. Leveling the shotgun at Ted, Michael climbed up the bank, never letting Ted out of the iron sights of the shotgun. Ted’s hand was jerking back and forth. He still held the gun, a .308, but it wasn’t pointed at anyone. Michael was ready to fire again if Ted tried to aim the revolver at them.

  As he approached Ted, he saw that at least one of his shots had connected. The payload had hit Ted in the neck, and bright, frothy, red blood was pouring out. Michael had never seen so much blood. Ted was gurgling from either trying to breathe or trying to speak. As Michael drew closer, Ted locked his eyes on him. Michael could tell that Ted recognized him. Ted gave him such a hateful stare, but then he coughed and spit up more blood. He tried to bring the gun up, but Michael immediately jammed his foot down on Ted’s hand, pinning the gun to the gravel.

  After a few more seconds of trying to gurgle out obscenities at Michael, Ted’s eyes glazed over, and he was completely still. Michael kept pointing the shotgun at Ted’s face as he kept his foot on Ted’s hand.

  Scott appeared beside Michael, visibly shaken up.

  Brian appeared on his other side and looked down at Ted. “Nice shot!” he commented, as if Michael had just won a target competition.

  “I thought it all was over for me,” Scott said in an unsteady voice.

  “I just killed somebody,” Michael said. He was still pointing the gun at Ted’s head. His emotions were so disarrayed. He didn’t know how to feel. He didn’t know what to feel. He was in shock.

  “You had to,” Brian said, trying to reassure him.

  “Did I?” Michael said, looking over at Brian. “Wasn’t there something else I could have done? Maybe I didn’t have to shoot. Maybe he really wasn’t going to kill Scott. Or maybe I could have shot him in the leg or something.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Scott said, getting his voice back. “You should have seen the look in his eyes. He was crazy. He was going to kill me. And he was going to enjoy doing it. Look, he probably just killed that innocent boy!”

  Michael let Scott’s words filter through his mind. Finally, his legs found some stability. He’d have to deal with his conscience later. Whether he did the right thing or not was still debatable in his mind. Had this really become a time of kill or be killed? Now was not the time to have a moral breakdown.

  “I still can’t believe you hit him,” Brian marveled. “How did you do that?”

  “I don’t know,” Michael said, finally letting the shotgun move away from Ted’s head. He bent down and pulled the gun from Ted’s dead hand. “I just tried to guess where he was from his voice and went for it.”

  “It’s a good thing you didn’t miss,” Scott said. “He was going to shoot me.”

  “He wasn’t going to shoot until he finished his sentence. People don’t usually shoot until they’ve finished what they have to say,” Michael said. He patted Ted’s pockets until he located extra bullets. “That’s why I had to shoot before he finished.”

  “I was just seconds from death,” Scott exclaimed. He looked directly at Michael. “Thanks. I really mean it. Thanks.”

  Michael looked at Scott and saw the sincerity in his face. He could tell that Scott was shaken, but so was he. “You’re welcome. Now you owe me,” he said. “Next time, you get to save my life.”

  “No problem.”

  “Hey, guys,” Brian said, looking up and down the road. The road remained deserted. “You both look a little pale. Do you think we should abort and head back to the apartment?”

  Michael fished the remaining rounds from Crazy Ted’s pocket. He looked up at Scott, who shook his head. “I have to do this, but you guys don’t have to come. You both should go back and pack up your car and get back home to PA,” Michael urged. You have plenty of gas…”

  “But no supplies,” Brian cut in.

  “…And you can pick up supplies on the way,” Michael continued.

  “No,” Scott said. “We’re going on. You just saved my life, and I’m not abandoning you now. That’s what friends are for. Anyw
ay, like Brian said, we all still need supplies. If the rest of the world has gone to hell, we can’t count on scavenging anything we need on our way home.”

  Michael took turns looking at Brian and Scott. Brian nodded in agreement with Scott and crossed his arms in a show of stubbornness. Standing up from Ted’s dead body, Michael sighed and said, “I guess we move on.”

  Ted’s bicycle was useless. As Scott told them what he witnessed, it seemed that Michael’s first round had hit Ted in the neck and knocked him down. The second round had just managed to blow out the bicycle’s rear tire. They were all glad that Michael’s first shot had hit the intended target, or else Ted may have had enough time to squeeze the trigger on his revolver.

  Scott and Michael sat down on the side of the road while Brian jogged back the way they had come. Brian disappeared around the bend of the road and reappeared after a few minutes. By the way he was trudging back toward them with his head down, they knew without asking what had happened to poor Richard. When Brian rejoined the group, they continued walking without saying anything.

  Eventually, they did start talking, but with somber tones. All Michael could think about was Ted’s body lying on the ground back there, throat ripped open. No one was going to come and claim the body. He imagined that Ted had parents who loved and cared for him. Then, he thought of Richard. He was just a poor, innocent, and naïve kid. His parents would never see their son again. Feeling tears form in his eyes, he forced himself to concentrate on other things. How could any mind possibly cope with so much death in such a short period of time?

  Chapter 14

  The three musketeers continued the rest of the way without running into anyone else. It was a little after noon when they arrived at the large outdoor sporting goods store. They crept up on the building from the side, where they’d be less likely to be seen. There were a few cars scattered throughout the large parking lot but no signs of life. From the ditch on the side of the road, they continued to survey the parking lot and the building beyond. Michael reached inside his backpack and pulled out a flashlight and a roll of duct tape. Brian and Scott watched as he taped the flashlight to the barrel of the gun. Michael returned the roll of duct tape to his backpack.

  With caution, they approached the entrance. They moved quickly inside and ducked behind the first aisle they stumbled across. There, they waited until their eyes adjusted to the gloomy interior. They also strained their ears and listened for any signs of movement or life. The air inside was stale and heavy. It stunk of putrid, rotting meat, which probably came from the small restaurant tucked away in the corner of the bottom floor.

  It was very dark inside. With the electricity off and the batteries drained on the emergency lights, the only source was of illumination in the store was coming from the front door and a few narrow windows along the wall. Hearing nothing, Michael switched on his flashlight. They moved silently from aisle to aisle, noting that the store had been completely ransacked. The first floor of the building was devoted mostly to fishing equipment and outdoor clothing.

  With still no signs of any intruders besides themselves, Michael moved to the escalator leading to the upper floor. Because he had been here a few times previously, Michael knew that the outdoor and hardware sections were on the second floor. Lacking electrical power, the escalators became just another set of regular stairs. As they climbed the steps, Michael’s flashlight picked up some objects on the stairs near the top. They looked like rug remnants that had been thrown down the escalator. Drawing nearer, they were disgusted to find the source of the smell.

  What he had at first mistaken for rugs in the dim light were actually bodies lying crumpled on the steps. Michael didn’t let the flashlight shine on the bodies too long. He didn’t want to see. He couldn’t handle that right now. What concerned him was the immediate threat that might be waiting for them at the top of the stairs. Whoever had killed these people might still be up there. He thought about turning around and getting Brian and Scott out of there, but he felt that this might be his last chance to find what he needed. It was either located here, or he was done for.

  Michael held his shotgun tightly and tried to steady his trembling knees. He still had the third shell chambered that he had not used on Ted. He moved cautiously forward and turned off the flashlight. They were plunged into darkness once again. Using the flashlight now would give away their location if anyone was still here. Brian and Scott followed a few steps behind him. There was enough light from the door and windows that Michael could avoid stepping on the bodies. Once, his foot went down, and the ground was too soft. He heard a sickening squish. He froze and swallowed the bile that crept up into his throat. With great resolve, he purposely did not look down and forced himself to move onward.

  They all slowly climbed the steps to a place just below the top of the escalator and halted. There was some outdoor light filtering in from a few windows along the far wall on the second floor. They took a few minutes to listen. Michael was about at eye level with the second floor. Peering around, he couldn’t see anyone waiting to ambush them. Only the heavy smell of death hung in the air.

  Nothing. No sound. Then, there was a sudden clang from the corner of the store.

  Michael turned to Brian and Scott and motioned for them to stay there. Then he turned and crept, shotgun in hand, down the side of the store toward the unknown sound. As he got closer, he started to hear hushed voices. It sounded like two young males. Now, he moved even slower, carefully trying to avoid kicking any loose obstacles on the floor. For some reason, the second floor had not been ransacked like the first floor had. Michael was confused but couldn’t devote any time to this new mystery at the moment.

  More hushed talking and another loud bang got his attention. He moved quietly toward the source of the sounds. Reaching the end of the aisle, Michael stopped and got both his shotgun and flashlight ready. Steeling his nerves, he swung out from behind the aisle, pointing the shotgun toward the voices and turning on the flashlight with his left index finger.

  He caught the two people completely by surprise. One of the kids yelped with fear as they both turned and shielded their eyes from the sudden, intense light. They were teenagers, by Michael’s guess. Frightened, they both put their hands in the air, surrendering.

  “Please, don’t shoot!” one of them cried. “Don’t shoot!”

  “Show me your weapons!” Michael demanded, using the most authoritative voice that he could muster.

  “We don’t have any!” the other kid cried out.

  “I don’t believe you! Who else is here?” Michael demanded.

  “No one!” one kid cried, while the other one said, “We don’t have anything!”

  “Brian! Scott! Come over here,” Michael called out. He kept his shotgun and light focused on the two kids. His friends showed up behind him within moments.

  Keeping his eyes on the kids, he said to his friends, “I need you to check them to see what they have.”

  “Check them?” Scott asked. “You mean frisk them like cops do?”

  “Yes.”

  “We have no idea how to do that.”

  “I don’t either,” Michael whispered. “Just try.”

  “Okay,” Brian said and moved to the kids. He made a decent attempt to search them for weapons and then turned back to Michael. “I don’t think they have anything.”

  “Good, at least they told me the truth,” Michael said, lowering the shotgun. Addressing the teenagers, he asked, “What are your names?”

  “I’m Chris, and this is my younger brother, James.”

  “What are you doing here?” Michael asked. “And put down your hands. We’re not bad guys. We’re not going to hurt you or take anything from you.”

  With that, they relaxed a little as they let their hands drop to their sides. “We’re just looking for some food. Our family is starving, and there’s nothing on the first floor that’s any good to eat.”

  Michael looked behind the boys and saw that they were, i
ndeed, scrounging around in a cooler. “What happened here? The first floor has been looted, but the merchandise on this floor hasn’t been touched. And what’s the story with the dead bodies on the stairs?”

  “We live just a couple of streets from here. We heard that someone had holed up in here and was shooting people who came looking to steal food,” Chris said. “Every day, people would try to come in and get food, and every day we’d hear gunfire. People went into the store, but no one ever came out. Then, a couple of days ago, we didn’t hear any more shooting. So me and my brother figured that maybe the guy moved out or was killed, and we were desperate for food…”

  “Okay,” Brian said. “We believe you.” He turned around and shrugged his shoulders at Michael.

  The younger boy, James, looked up at Michael and asked, “You got another flashlight? We can hardly see anything in this darkness.”

  “No,” Michael replied. “But I’m sure they have flashlights in here somewhere. Come on. We’ll find some.” Chris and James were just a couple of innocents caught up in a bad situation. Just like Richard. And he had let Richard down; he had failed him. This time, he was going to help these hungry teenagers. For some unknown reason, he trusted these kids. His instincts hadn’t failed him yet. Of course, when and if his instincts did fail him, it would be the last time, because he would probably be dead.

  Turning, he led the entire group to the outdoor section with his sole light source and found the camping aisle. Michael found a whole section of flashlights and batteries. They divided them up, and soon everyone had multiple light sources. To Chris and James, Michael said, “Okay, guys, go find yourselves some food. We won’t take anything you find. And you might want to grab a few of these backpacks to carry stuff,” he said, shining his light on some professional hiking packs hanging on the rack.

  “Let’s grab some too,” Scott said, discarding his pathetically small pack designed only to carry textbooks for school.