The Last Tribe

by Brad Manuel

  “Hank, do me a favor. Emily and I are turning off our phones. We are going to play possum for a few weeks. Please relay our status to the family. I am leaning towards paranoia right now.”

  “Sure, Jesus, anything.”

  “And Hank?” Todd said before turning off his phone.

  “Yeah?”

  “Keep your girls home from school.”

  4

  Five days later Todd left his home before dawn. The car horns had stopped days ago. He walked through his subdivision in hopes of finding other people, friends who could help him through the crisis.

  He was back at his house by 7am. Emily stood in the kitchen drinking coffee. Jay and Brian were still asleep. Jay was fully recovered from his fever.

  “How many people are still here?” She asked anxiously. Neither of them had left the cul de sac since the yellow hazmat encounter.

  “You don’t want to know. I went through ours and three other subdivisions.” He went to the coffee.

  “I’ll walk around myself.” She threatened.

  Todd poured a cup. He turned around and faced his wife. He dropped his eyes and stared at the floor as he responded. “Every house is vacant or dead.” He raised his eyes from the floor and looked at his wife. “We’re alone.”

  Emily put her hand over her mouth in shock. “Do you know who is dead as opposed to gone?”

  “Most of the people are gone, two thirds of the houses have a “V” in the driveway. About twenty-five have a black circle. The Mitchells are dead, so are the Vogels and the Taylors.” Todd’s voice was flat, emotionless as he relayed the deaths of their friends.

  Emily bent over. She was almost sick. “All those kids, oh my god.” She started crying and stood upright for a hug and comfort from Todd. “This has to be a nightmare. Tell me this is a nightmare.”

  “We’re going to be okay. Let’s stick to our plan, stay in the house, maybe the backyard or the pool next door. We don’t go in the front yard or cul-de-sac until we know it’s safe. I will retrieve as much food as I can.” He held her tightly. “We’re going to be okay. The rest of the world is screwed, but we’re going to be okay.”

  Emily sobbed uncontrollably in her husband’s arms.

  5

  Todd rode his bike a few miles from his house. Sweat dripped off his forehead from the stifling heat and humidity. He used a paved bike path system called the Greenway that ran through woods and public parks throughout Raleigh. The Greenway kept him off the main streets.

  When Todd was far enough away from his house, he pulled off the path and into a subdivision. He did not find a charged cell phone until the third house. He only went into homes with what he now call ‘the black circle of death.’

  The power was still working in Raleigh. The front door opened into an air-conditioned home. Todd welcomed the cool air as he searched.

  He dialed his brother, John Dixon, in Charleston, South Carolina.

  “John, it’s Todd.”

  “What the hell is going on up there? Are you okay? Is your family okay?” John had not heard from his brother since the start of the epidemic. All he had was second hand news from Hank.

  “We’re all fine. I’m going to explain everything. Let me conference Hank and Paul into the call.”

  John heard the phone click and go dead. One minute later the four brothers were on the line together.

  “We all on?” Todd asked the group. He received three “yeses.”

  “Seriously, what the hell is happening? Raleigh is a dead spot on the map. There is no communication. Whose cell phone is this?” John was desperate to know what was happening. The flu had taken its first victim in Charleston yesterday.

  Hank and Paul were equally excited and curious to hear the happenings in the “dead city” as it was referred to on the news.

  “About two weeks ago my neighbor died, followed days later by his wife and four children. Jay and Brian played with those kids every day since we moved here.” He went on to talk about the Hazmat suited people, Jay’s flu, and the markings on the driveway.

  “No one has been back since. I haven’t seen any trucks or people for about a week. I think everyone is either dead or gone. It’s crazy. We really are a dead city.” Todd waited for questions. When none were asked, he continued.

  “So far we are fine. Jay’s flu came and went. It helped us fool the government people. We heard army trucks rolling up and down the main streets all the time, but since the pandemic has moved to other cities, the military bugged out. If there are people alive in Raleigh other than us, I haven’t seen them.”

  “What are you going to do?” Now that the basics were answered, Paul was curious about the future. He and his wife Rachel were in Cincinnati, Ohio.

  “We are holding tight for now. The power is still on. I plan on stealing a generator if it goes off. Of course, then I have to figure out how to work the damn thing. I’ve been collecting food from other houses, food and water, and rain barrels.”

  “We had our first case yesterday, first death I should say. It’s here in Charleston. You’ve all seen it, it’s everywhere along the east coast.” There was panic in John’s voice. “Greg is up at Hightower for baseball camp. I don’t know what we’re going to do. The travel restrictions and checkpoints mean I can’t get to him and he can’t get back here.” Greg was John’s fourteen year old son, stuck at his prep school in Massachusetts.

  Todd did not have an answer. “I don’t know if I’m out of the woods yet. A lot of people left Raleigh healthy. They might still be healthy like me. Maybe my time hasn’t come yet.”

  “Rachel hasn’t been eating. She’s been picking her food for months.” Paul was talking about his wife, his voice was soft.

  “My girls are losing weight too, but Paul, they’re women, none of them ever eat. Don’t panic yet. There is hope for a cure or a vaccine, just hold tight.” Hank was upbeat.

  “I don’t want to stay on the phone too long. The government may be monitoring, and I don’t want them coming back to my house and finding healthy people. I’m not calling from my house, but if they trace who I called, it won’t be hard for them to figure out I’m Todd Dixon and not the dead owner of this phone. We should plan on speaking again, developing a plan. Assume you will survive and figure out what our next steps are. I won’t have access to a phone for another few days. I’ll try you again when I do.”

  “The whole world dies and you think the four of us will make it?” Paul asked him.

  “Yes.” Todd lied. “And let’s make some plans for when that happens.”

  Todd left the cell phone on the counter and checked the house for any food or supplies he could fit in his backpack. Scavenging was a habit now, but it was not necessary. Todd and Emily had more food than they could eat in ten years. He put three un-opened boxes of cereal and two bottles of water in his pack, opening a third water to drink before walking to his bike.

  He clicked the button on his walkie-talkie. “All good. Heading home.”

  “You didn’t say ‘over’.” His son Jay crackled from the other device.

  “Be back in thirty. Love you, over.” Beads of sweat returned to Todd’s forehead as he rode home.

  6

  The Dixon brothers spoke weekly, updating each other on the status of their towns. Media outlets were useless, spewing propaganda and false information about a cure and hope against the unrelenting death.

  They were two months into the pandemic. John, Todd, Hank, and Paul remained healthy.

  “Rachel died today.” Paul said solemnly. “Why I’m not dead, I don’t know. We did everything together. It’s been in Cincinnati for weeks. I should be sick.”

  “I’m so sorry, Paul. I wish we could be there for you.” Todd offered.

  “I buried her behind our house, under the lilac trees she loved.“ The last word was lost as Paul sobbed.

  “My girls were sick too. They’re all gone now.” Hank’s voice was empty. His family died two phone calls ago, but the memory wa
s fresh and painful enough that he continued to tell his brothers.

  Paul answered loudly through his tears. “Hank, we need to turn ourselves in. We can help. There is still time here in Ohio. They can use our blood to test for a cure. We’re the answer. It’s what Rachel wanted me to do, to save people.”

  “No.” John said firmly. “You’re a fool if you do it. If you believe those yellow suited assholes are going to take a pint of your blood and thank you for your service, you’re insane. If you don’t end up locked in a room after everyone else is dead, you’ll be carved up with your liver in a bowl inside of a week.”

  “You selfish jackass.” Paul yelled. “I’m talking about saving the rest of humanity, and you’re scared they might detain me for longer than I want? You’ve seen the news. No one has a clue what to do. Maybe we have antibodies in our blood. I’ve contacted people at the university here, doctors I can trust. We can help.”

  “Everyone calm down.” Todd found himself breaking up the same arguments during every call. “Paul, we voted, you need to stay hidden. Hank, you have to get it together and keep yourself alive. Focus.”

  There was a pause before John spoke. “My kids are still fine. I don’t think we are going to get sick. We need a place to meet. All of us.” John did not talk about his wife, Sharon. It was understood non-Dixons would succumb to the disease nicknamed “the rapture.”

  “You could be saving her.” Paul interjected.

  “You son of a bitch, you think if I believed that for a second I wouldn’t turn myself in? If I thought the idiots left in the world could figure out how to save my wife with my blood?”

  Todd cut him off. “I want to meet in Hanover. I know it’s cold, like, all the time, but it’s remote. I don’t believe any bad people or things will find us up there. If we pick a good house, like the house we grew up in, well, it was built a long time ago, before modern conveniences. It has fire places, wood stoves, a wood room connected to the house. It’s almost colonial. It’s right next to a pond for water and fishing. We could keep the land around the pond cleared for crops.” He paused to the let the idea sink in.

  Hanover was in New Hampshire. It was their hometown.

  “Greg is still at Hightower. He’s not sick. He can get to Hanover on his own. I don’t know when I can get there. My family would have to avoid DC and New York and Philly and Boston. It might take a long time without cars.” John’s brain worked through the idea, but he was sold. Todd could tell from the response.

  “Hank, Paul, think about it. I’m going to ride out the winter here in North Carolina. When it starts to get warm, I am going to make a move. That’s about six or eight months from now. Frankly, everything should be over by then. Either we have a cure and we are rebuilding our world, or we don’t have a cure and avoiding people won’t be much of a problem. Either way, setting up camp in New Hampshire isn’t a bad idea.”

  Paul continued to weep.

  Hank responded. “Things are still crazy here. We’re probably in the middle of the cycle, so I don’t know if I can leave by spring or if I’ll even be alive. The government has stepped up the raids and collections. If I make it through, I’ll get to New Hampshire by May or June.” There was life back in Hank’s voice. “I’ll be there.”

  “Hank, what do you mean by collections?” John suspected the government was kidnapping healthy citizens, but he had not witnessed it.

  “Just keep to yourselves and don’t trust anyone. Paul, believe us when we tell you to stay home. Don’t turn yourself in.” Hank’s tone was firm. “Don’t trust anyone.”

  “Paul? Take care of yourself, think about our plan.” Todd brought the conversation back on track.

  Paul cleared his throat. “Hank, I’ll come up in the spring and we’ll make the trip together. It’s too dangerous for me to try and get up there now. I’ll be there in the spring. Please don’t leave without me.” Hank lived one hour north of Paul.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it brother. I’ll see the rest of you in Hanover.” Hank issued another warning. “I’m going to say it again, because it’s important. Don’t trust anyone.”

  They said their goodbyes and condolences to Paul before the brothers hung up for the last time.

  John held the phone in his palm. “Matt, Craig, come in here for a minute.” He called his sons into the room. They were around a corner listening to the conversation.

  “Aunt Rachel died.” John told them quietly. “We’re meeting your uncles in Hanover next year. I need to call Greg and tell him what to do.”

  John put his hand on his youngest son’s shoulder as he dialed Greg’s phone number in Massachusetts.

  7

  John hung up the phone, closed his eyes, and bowed his head. His sons, Matt and Craig, stood in the living room with him, listening to every word their father said to their brother.

  John’s request for Greg to stay alive hung in the air.

  “What do we do now, Dad?” Matt asked. “Do we start to make our way up to Hanover? We might make it before the first snow.” Matt, 17, was a few years older than Greg. He was doing well at a local private school, and had hopes of going north for college next fall.

  “But Mom is upstairs, and she’s still alive. We can’t leave her.” 10 year old Craig yelled at his older brother. The young boy was crying.

  John opened his eyes and looked at his sons. He was the father, but there was nothing that prepared him to lead a family through this type of situation. The world was in chaos, his partner was days from dying, and one of his sons was 700 miles away. John’s head was swimming.

  “Your mother isn’t dead. We would be killing her if we leave and a cure is found. We don’t leave, we stay with her. Do you understand?” John looked at Craig as he said the last sentence, reaching out and wiping the tears from the boy’s face. His sons nodded. Craig cracked a small smile.

  “When your mother gets better, and we think we can make it up to Hanover? We leave, and we decide if Craig stops at Uncle Todd’s. He can ride out the first winter in Raleigh. Todd and Emily will need a lot of help with your cousins.”

  “I don’t want to split up.” Craig said quickly.

  “I know, that’s why I said we will decide later. Hey, maybe the government will come through with a cure, and this whole thing will be over.” John gave them a weak smile, a knowing smile that told his boys none of that was going to happen.

  “Has Mom had anything to eat?” Matt asked.

  “No, but she’s a fighter.” John was the only one who had been in Sharon’s room in the last two days. Once the end symptoms of the rapture began, she asked her sons not to see her again. She gave a teary goodbye three days ago.

  It was not a bad thing for her kids to see her. During the final phase of the rapture a person was delirious with joy. A rapture victim was more creepy than scary. The high fever or bacteria or virus, whatever it was, boiled the brain to the point where people felt happy, peaceful, and full of joy. The name was coined by the rapturous like emotions exhibited at the end of the disease.

  John was devastated. He knew there was no cure coming, and his wife would be dead in 24 to 48 hours. He continued to lie to Craig, though he assumed even the boy knew the truth.

  While the last three days for a rapture victim were peaceful, the world’s last few months were chaotic and violent. Countries were filled with looting and rioting. Governments were unfriendly to survivors, seeking healthy people who did not exhibit symptoms. Distrust and paranoia reigned.

  The crazy time was winding down. It had been two months since Raleigh went dark. Everyone in North America was sick or dead. There was still mild panic, but “it” was over. Humanity was finished. The world slowly accepted its fate.

  Even as the population dwindled, and the military’s power disappeared, John believed there were roadblocks on every route headed north. Information was sparse. All he had to work off of were looped television images of yellow suited people with guns and thermometers checking cars and separating fam
ilies. John would not make a move north until he was positive everyone was dead, and by the time he could be sure, winter would block the way to his son.

  For now, at least for another day or two, John would care for Sharon. How his wife had lasted this long he did not know. Every other person from their circle of friends had been dead for weeks.

  8

  Greg’s eyes opened with the sun. He looked at his watch out of habit. It read 7:37am. He had been asleep for 2 hours, taking the first nap of a schedule he devised and implemented one week ago. Greg was reversing his sleeping habits, sleeping in the day and staying awake at night. His plan was to leave his school and travel under the cover of darkness.

  His first thought was always, “I’m late for breakfast!” His stomach ached with hunger pains. Reality quickly set in. As much as Greg wanted to forget his current situation, the fact that it was freezing in his dorm room, and he was a smart and grounded 14 year old, made it impossible. He was alone at his prep school, Hightower Academy, outside of Boston, Massachusetts. His friends, teachers, and everyone else at the school were dead, rotting in a building just yards away.

  Three months earlier the pandemic struck New York City, Boston, Washington D.C., Philadelphia, and all the cities up and down the coast. Panic ensued and roads shut. Greg was 700 miles from his home in South Carolina, attending baseball training camp in Massachusetts. With at least ten major cities closed between him and his family, Greg was stuck.

  The last phone call he had with his father was over a month ago. It came with news that his mother was sick, which meant she was now dead.

  Greg replayed that conversation in his head every morning. His father was strong in the face of the disease. “Look, I don’t know if you are going to get sick. I don’t know if I am going to make it either, but right now we aren’t sick, and that’s weird. Your Uncles are healthy too. We have a plan. It starts with us heading north, away from people. We are going to Hanover, up to the lake house to figure out a life. Do you think you can get there?”