by Janet Durbin
Shyanne remembered the day when Dad had surprised the family by coming home early from work. Mom was off, a rare thing for her, as well...
He had a worried look on his face as he guided her into another room, closing the door behind them. Shyanne looked at Drayco. They were enjoying an afternoon snack while doing their homework. She shrugged her shoulders. Both were curious about what was going on so they quietly crept over to where their parents talked. Ears pressed against the door, they tried to hear what was said. All they heard was frantic whispering.
Suddenly, the door burst open. Their father almost fell over the two teens who knelt next to it. He ignored what they were doing and indicated for them to get up. He was coughing. His nose was running. His eyes were red and bleary, as if he had been awake for weeks without the benefit of sleep.
"Get your things together. In the morning, we're going on a camping trip. We won't be near a power source so pack things that don't require electricity.” He and Mom went toward their room to start getting their things ready.
Later that evening, the twins were instructed to go to bed before 9 p.m. They had learned a long time ago not to argue with their parents. There didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary on the television when she and Drayco gave their parents a hug. Her father's cold seemed to be getting worse. She hoped he would be better before they left.
"Dad, you going to be okay? You have a really gnarly cold this time,” Shyanne said. Drayco nodded his head in agreement.
"Yes, honey, I took some cold medicine earlier. It will kick in soon. You and your brother go on upstairs and get to bed. I'll be okay by morning.” He gave her a weak smile of encouragement.
"Love you, Dad,” they chimed together. “You too, Mom."
"Love you back. Now get!” Dad emphasized his words with a wave of his hand.
Mom stared at the television with a concerned look on her face. “Love you too."
The twins hoped Mom was worried about something else, something on the TV, and not about Dad. Their parents had the usual number of colds throughout the year. They lasted a short while. Dad had his head resting on the back of the couch with his eyes closed as they darted up the stairs.
Shyanne snuck into her brother's room after they finished changing into their nightclothes and brushing their teeth.
"What do you think is going on?” she whispered so they wouldn't be caught.
"I don't know, little sis,” he whispered back. “They sure looked bugged about something."
"Dad sure has a bad cold this time, doesn't he? I hope he'll be okay."
"I hope so too.” A frown covered Drayco's face. “That cold came on him pretty quick. He was fine before he went to work this morning."
"Yeah. I hope Mom doesn't catch it. You know how Dad always shares all his colds with her."
"Yeah. They can be such babies when they're sick."
The twins snickered. They covered their mouths to hide the noise.
"You'd better get back to your room. You know how they can be if they find us awake.” Drayco pushed Shyanne toward the door.
"I know, I know. Just like when they have colds ... real babies."
That brought on another round of snickers. Shyanne disappeared out the door before her brother could throw a pillow at her.
The camping trip never happened. By morning, their father was unconscious and having a hard time breathing. Their mother dialed 911 when she couldn't wake him. Before the ambulance got there, he'd stopped breathing. Mom checked him. She found his heart had stopped beating, as well, and tried to get it started again with CPR. Nothing seemed to work.
The ambulance arrived within minutes. A fire truck was right behind it. The paramedics gently pushed Mom out of the way so they could start working on Dad. She gathered the twins and stood watching in shock. She took them downstairs to the kitchen. After a hug for both of her kids, she picked up the phone and called the grandparents. Shyanne noticed she had a bit of a sniffle and an occasional cough. Her eyes were getting red and bleary.
One of the paramedics came in to get her as she set the phone down. They had Dad on the gurney, heading toward the ambulance. He had a tube in his mouth, a bag attached to it. One of the men squeezed it to push air into his lungs. Another person was compressing on his chest as best he could while the gurney moved.
"I want you two to stay here and wait for Grammy and Grampy. I have to go with Dad. I'll call you from the hospital as soon as I can."
Mom knew better than to talk to them as if they were little kids. She tried to catch herself whenever possible. For the most part, she was successful. Under stressful situations, like today, she reverted to old, comfortable ways. They nodded their heads in silence. They were in too much shock over the situation to be able to speak.
The grandparents arrived in 20 minutes. They took the twins to their house instead of the hospital. They were of the old school; children were not needed in the hospital, no matter how seriously ill the patient was.
Later that evening, the call finally happened. It was not their mom. It was the hospital's Chaplain. Their mother was in the intensive care unit. Their father was dead.
The grandparents hugged the twins tight and went to the hospital, leaving them at home full of unanswered questions. Drayco and Shyanne had pleaded to go with the grandparents, but to no avail.
While waiting for information, the teens decided to turn on the television. Breaking news was on every channel. Hundreds of people were flocking to the hospitals and clinics with a mysterious illness. Symptoms were similar to the common cold. People not sick were urged to stay in their homes and remain calm.
The twins looked at each other. Each was thinking the same thought ... their parents. They returned their attention to the screen. Shyanne moved closer to her brother. She needed the comfort of his touch. Especially now. It was late into the night by the time they fell asleep, huddled together on the couch, waiting for their grandparents to return.
When their grandparents finally returned home early the next morning, grim looks were on their faces.
"What happened? We saw the news last night about all the people getting sick,” they chimed together; a frantic undertone filled their voices. “How's Mom?"
Grampy looked at his wife before speaking. With a sigh, he said, “We're so sorry. Your mother passed away this morning."
Grammy went to Shyanne and wrapped her in her arms. Tears flowed freely down both their cheeks. Drayco stood with his head hung forward, his hands buried deep in his pockets. Grampy walked up to him and gripped his shoulder. Drayco tried to hide his emotions. He was young; his emotions got the better of him. In an instant, he flung his arms around the older man and buried his face in his shirt. His shoulders shook with each sob that wracked his body...
Over the next couple of weeks, the news reporters had talked constantly about the disease and its devastating impact on the world. People were dying anywhere from 24 to 36 hours after catching it. No one could figure out how or why it started.
At first, the government remained aloof and denied any knowledge about it. They eventually broke down and admitted it was a virus created in total secrecy as a part of germ warfare, to be used “just in case". Nuclear power was available for weapons. It was expensive and under close scrutiny, making it hard to obtain. Biological warfare was inexpensive; it could be placed anywhere without anyone knowing who did it.
The scientists who created the virus had not anticipated the uselessness of plastic seals. It ate through the joints of the suits worn by the workers as if it was dessert, then entered their bodies. The virus was supposed to be a contact one. It mutated into something far worse. It became airborne.
These same workers carried it home to their families. They falsely assumed the decontamination process had worked. They were wrong; the world paid the price. Most thought it was just a cold, or allergies. They ignored the need to see a doctor until it was too late. Whole families were wiped out in days, a town in a week. A big city w
as cleared in a matter of weeks.
The news media plastered the names of the people who created the virus everywhere. They died immediately, if not by the public, then by the virus. Any chance of a vaccine died with them. The geniuses had not bothered to write down how they created the killer germ. They preferred to keep that knowledge to themselves, in case non-friendly nations illegally obtained the information. The government scrambled to find a cure with the data that was left behind. There was not enough to use. The virus continued its epidemic killing.
A few people became sick. After a couple of days, they recovered. Doctors learned that the lucky ones had high immune systems. Their white blood cells were extremely aggressive toward invading organisms like the virus, ending its progress throughout the body before it had a chance to establish. Shyanne had a high immunity. Her brother was the same. They recovered. They were lucky.
Those same doctors tried to use this information to help the people with inadequate immune systems. The virus was too fast. Young and old, rich and poor, they all died the same. Some tried to hide in fallout shelters made during the cold war. It didn't matter; the virus found them anyway. The deaths slowed when there were no more victims left to infect. Out of the billions of people worldwide, only a few hundred thousand remained when the rampage stopped.
The twins became sick shortly after the death of their parents. Their symptoms were light so their grandparents hadn't taken them to the hospital. At that time, to go to the hospital meant certain death. Within a couple of days, they recovered. Drayco was forced to live with their grandparents while Shyanne had to go live with an aunt in a nearby city. The advanced age and ill health of their grandparents made it difficult for them to care for two active teens.
Shyanne ran away after less than a month. Her aunt became sick and couldn't keep track of her ward. She arrived at her grandparents’ house just before they died. She comforted both during their final hours. Drayco was there a short time after their deaths, but the virus caused him to do terrible things, things he could not help. He had to drink blood to survive.
One night, he lost control and almost killed Shyanne. He left after that and she had not seen him since. Her heart yearned to know what had become of her twin brother.
A loud noise brought Shyanne back from her past. Looking around, she located the cause. The big, burly man was coming toward her. He shoved other patrons out of his way, not caring if they objected.
"My, ain't you a pretty one,” he slurred once he reached her table. He put both hands on the worn surface and leaned forward, raking over her body with his bloodshot eyes. The shifty-eyed man stood behind him, also drunk.
"Why don't you come upstairs with us? We can have us a real good time."
Shyanne sized up the situation and leaned back, arms outstretched on either side of the bench. It's not even noontime and these two are already drunk, she thought in disgust.
"I'd rather swim in a lake in wintertime,” she replied, disdain thick in her tone.
Shifty-eyes looked at her and said, “You'd best reconsider, missy."
The burly man reached for her, intent on dragging her from her seat. He was too slow.
Shyanne jumped onto the bench. Her sword was out before he knew it. A resounding thud echoed across the room as it cut deep into his flesh. It stopped when it met bone. With a tug, she pulled it free. The burly man let out a howl as he fell to his knees, hugging his arm against his body.
A shadow came out from under the table. In their drunken state, both men had failed to see the big cat when they barged up. The shifty-eyed man let out a yelp and jumped back. Seeing the situation, he turned to make his escape. Drizzle gave him a swat on his backside to remind him of his foolishness. Shifty-eyes disappeared through the exit, his ripped pants flapping behind him.
Shyanne jumped down from the bench and stood with her sword held ready.
The burly man held his arm against his body; blood ran between his fingers. His breath came and went in a ragged hiss. By the time he looked up, he found he was alone. His partner was already gone.
He glared at her as he struggled to his feet. “This ain't over yet, girlie.” He went out the door after his friend, leaving a bloody trail in his wake.
The innkeeper's wife had watched the disturbance as it unfolded. Once the two men had scurried out the door, she hurried over to Shyanne.
"You'd best be moving on, my dear. Those two will be nothing but trouble if you stay. I can feel it in my bones."
"I'm sorry for the mess,” Shyanne said as she put her sword away. She tossed some gold coins on the table and picked up her pack. “I hope this will cover both the price of the meal and the clean up.” She was heading for the door when the woman yelled.
"Wait! You'll need this more than I will.” She walked over and handed Shyanne the money from the table.
"I can't take this. I ate some of your food and helped mess up the place.” She handed the money back to the older woman.
"My dear ... watching those two bullies get their fannies whooped by a little bit of a girl was payment enough. Now, take this ... I insist.” She grabbed Shyanne's hand, placed the money in the palm, and closed the fingers tight.
Shyanne smiled and hugged the woman. In a hushed tone, she said, “Thank you."
The innkeeper's wife was blushing when they broke apart. She turned Shyanne toward the door and gave her a gentle shove. “Now get on with you. You don't want to dally too long and give them shysters time to think up something to do to you."
Drizzle rubbed against the wife in typical cat fashion before moving with Shyanne toward the exit. The other patrons backed out of the way. They obviously wanted no part of this pair. They had witnessed what could happen if you crossed them and did not want the same treatment.
"I wish things weren't like this,” she said with a heavy sigh after they were outside. “The virus changed so much."
"I understand,” Drizzle answered. “Survival tends to bring out the worst."
She tossed her pack over her shoulder and walked down the road toward the stables. Children were running about, laughing and pointing at them. Adults whispered to each other, or stared. Disturbances of this nature were unusual in their town.
"News sure does travel fast, doesn't it?” Shyanne held her head high as they continued to their destination.
The stable was a large building nestled on the outskirts of town. It had ten stalls in all, two of which were big enough to hold more than one horse. Hers was in stall four, one of the larger ones located in the back. At present, five other horses were boarded there. Drizzle waited for her outside, lounging in the sunlight. His presence frightened the animals and caused them to kick and buck in their stalls.
As Shyanne entered the building, the strong smell of horse and straw hit her nose. She loved the smell and stopped to take in several deep breathes. When she felt satisfied, she moved on. A big bay horse poked its head out as she walked past. Shyanne gave him a quick pat on the nose and continued toward stall four.
The stableman came up to her while she leaned against the railing and looked inside.
The man was tall and as thin as a pole, but handsome in his own way. His face was as long as his body; a solemn look covered it. He took off his hat, scratched his head, and then returned the hat to its original spot, covering the wisps of thinning blonde hair.
"I heard about the fight. Please be careful, those two can be mean ones.” He rubbed his left arm where a large bruise covered it. “They did this before going to the bar."
Shyanne thanked him for his concern. She unlatched the door to the stall and went inside. A tall, dark horse with white spots on its hindquarters stood in the farthest corner, his ears pointing toward her.
"Jack ... how's my big man?"
He danced toward her when he realized who was in the stall with him, shaking his flowing black mane back and forth with every toss of his head. A smile crossed her face. Her heart filled with joy every time she watched him move. It w
as so fluid, especially for such a big animal.
The stableman watched as she hugged her horse. He leaned against the railing, but made no attempt to enter. “Sure is a loyal beast, that one is. Wouldn't let me get near ‘em for nut'n. Had to toss his grain into the bucket and run before he kicked the stuff'n out of me.” He pointed to an old, battered pail against a wall, grain spread across the floor in front of it.
She scratched the horse on the neck and replied, “We've been together for six years now. Before that, he was with a man who abused and whipped him every chance he got. When I witnessed what this man was doing, I persuaded him to give me the horse.” The smile on her face broadened while she recanted how she had changed the man's mind. “He refused, at first. Some money and my sword helped him change his mind. It took lots of time and patience to win Jack over. Now that I have, he won't let any man near him."
"You did a fine job with him, missy. That you did."
Shyanne grabbed the halter and indicated for the tall, lanky man to back away. When he was safely out of harm's way, she led Jack into the walkway. The horse pranced around with excitement. He knew they were leaving and looked forward to stretching his muscles. The stall had plenty of room, but the wide open spaces had more.
"Easy there, young man. We'll be going in a minute."
She reached over, grabbed the rope hanging off to the side of the walkway and secured it to the halter. She repeated the process for the other side. Picking up a brush, she started on his coat. It glistened by the time she finished.
She flipped the brush over and gave the pad draped over the railing a couple of resounding whacks. Thousands of tiny dust particles danced and twirled in the sunlight. They gently came to rest moments later as if exhausted from so much activity. She threw the pad onto the broad back. The saddle followed. After tightening it down, she secured her pack behind it with the attached straps. She worked the bridle onto Jack's head and wedged the bit into the open space behind his teeth. The reins were tied to a nearby post for extra security.
The stableman came up behind her, carefully watching the horse. He handed her a water skin and a package wrapped in some white cotton material. “I wanted you to have these for your travels. It ain't much, but it will hold you for a few days. I know you didn't have time to re-supply because of those idiots picking a fight."
