Defending Against Affliction

by Connor Mccoy

  Cooper was dressed in neat brown dress pants and a white button-up shirt. He shuffled a little in his black shoes. Even he seemed a little nervous.

  Karen came to a stop. “Hi,” she said.

  “Hello.” Cooper smiled widely and a little awkwardly. “You look very beautiful.”

  Karen grasped a lock of her neatly combed hair. “Thank you.”

  Cheryl decided to move things along. “Well, how about we head inside and eat?” She slipped past them and pushed open the door, allowing the two inside.

  The town’s diner originally was occupied by Obadiah Stone and part of his “tribe,” a group of refugees who accompanied him from the north. But Stone and the healthier men pitched their tents outside and, over time, the other occupants had found new homes. Now the diner was being refurbished to operate again, with adjustments for the new post-EMP world. This evening was sort of a test, with Cooper and Karen being the guinea pigs.

  Stone was inside by the counter, waiting. “Evening.” Even with the white beard covering his chin, his big smile couldn’t be more apparent. Karen smiled and said hello in return. Cooper did likewise.

  Cheryl sat in the booth behind the couple. She waited as Cooper and Karen exchanged some small talk. Then the waitress came with their food. Since the diner still was being readied for its new use, they didn’t even have a full menu yet. Cheryl made sure the dating couple knew what was coming—two plates of fried fish, vegetables, and fresh bread. They still had their selection of drinks, such as water, cans of carbonated soda, and orange, apple or grape juice.

  Speaking of drinks…

  “Excuse me.” Cheryl raised her hand. The waitress walked by. “Could I have some water?” She felt hot. That was a bit peculiar. The evening air felt nice.

  She rubbed her head. A trickle of sweat poured from the pores by her hair. A tinge of dizziness also rocked her. Damn. I’ve been so busy it’s running me ragged. I’m trying to look after thirteen kids, hold together a town, and help a good friend. I should get a gold trophy and a million dollars.

  She drank up the glass and soon asked for another. I hope Amir and Tom can hold down the fort until I get home. I’m probably going to crash the moment I get through the door. With her second glass delivered, Cheryl drank from it deeply.

  “Just put it on my tab,” she said jokingly, knowing she wasn’t expected to pay for it. Stores and businesses still were working out how to have customers pay for their meals and products. There was talk from bartering to public service to even bringing back paper currency.

  Cheryl’s head rested in her hand, propped up by her elbow on the table. “I need to stop thinking,” she said, “It’s making my head hurt.”

  “Cheryl?”

  Who was that? Cheryl blinked her eyes. That was Karen, standing over her, along with Cooper. “Hey, what’s up?” Karen looked at the three glasses on the table. “You look plastered, but I think you’ve been drinking water.”

  “Oh.” Cheryl wasn’t even aware she had ordered three glasses, much less drank them all. “Guess I was super thirsty.”

  “And super out of it. I called out to you about five times.” Karen laughed.

  Cheryl slid out of the booth. “I’m so sorry. Did everything go okay?” Her shoe landed on the floor but slid. It was surprisingly hard to keep her balance.

  Cooper reached out for her. “No, I’m fine. It’s just been an insanely busy week. Guess it’s all catching up to me.”

  “Well.” Karen glanced at her date. “We were wondering if you would escort us back to the post office?”

  “The post office? Why?”

  “That is where I sleep,” Cooper said.

  “Oh.” Cheryl shook her head. How the hell did she forget that?

  “Damn, I am not firing on all cylinders tonight. Sure, sure.” She started, a little inelegantly, for the front door.

  The front doors of the Criver house suddenly broke open. Soldiers burst through. They were wearing NATO insignia.

  “Run!” Tom shouted, “Amir, get everyone to safety, now!”

  Tom rushed at them, squeezing off rounds with his revolver. But for every soldier he felled, another arrived in his place.

  “Tom!” Cheryl cried as she tried to cover him with her gun.

  But then…

  Pop! Pop!

  Tom was hit twice. He groaned loudly before slamming into the floor.

  “No!” Cheryl aimed her gun at the bastards who had nailed him, but her own gun was empty.

  She tried to run, only to be seized by three soldiers. She could hear the remainder dashing through the house, hunting down and executing her own children.

  “Let go of me, you sons of bitches!” Cheryl screamed.

  One soldier’s face finally became visible. He looked just like Major Volhein, the leader of the soldiers, who she had killed in a brutal fight. “We have unfinished business.”

  Cheryl’s arms were bound over her head. Then she was slammed on her back to the floor.

  “No, stop!” Cheryl shouted.

  But she could not stop the horror to come. Her jeans and shirt were pulled right off her, followed by her underwear. She was stripped naked and humiliated in front of now five soldiers.

  “Unfinished business,” hissed the voice of the soldier, before they began violating her.

  “No!”

  Cheryl sprang out of her chair. She flung herself upward so awkwardly she fell flat on the floor. She scrambled to get up. Her nose stung from the impact. Where the hell was she? She looked around. This was the front office of the post office. That’s right. She had taken Cooper and Karen back here. She said she needed a moment to sit down, then wandered out here, perhaps wanting to afford the pair some privacy.

  She was so furious she slapped herself in the face. She was a horrible chaperone, barely paying attention to them at all. What was wrong with her? Exhausted by having to deal with this disease and the demands of life, and now she was assaulted by this horrible nightmare?

  Muttering mental curses to herself, she strolled along the desks. The back door was open. Not even wanting to bother going around, she climbed over the counter and peeked inside.

  She nearly shrieked, quickly muffling her mouth with her hand. Cooper lay on the mat he slept on, with Karen sitting on top of him, both naked. Cooper reached for Karen’s totally exposed breasts, seemingly mesmerized by the sight of his lady’s glory. For her part, Karen was giggling and smiling.

  “You are a true work of art,” Cooper said.

  “Well thank you.” Karen leaned forward a little to afford her companion a better view of her upper chest. “Did I ever tell you I find your accent incredibly sexy?”

  “Indeed.” Cooper smiled. He then grabbed onto Karen and held her tightly with both hands as he buried his face in her breasts. Karen let out happy screams as he then dragged her on top of him.

  Cheryl quickly backed out of the room. “Oh my God!” She rushed back over the counter, slipping and falling in the process.

  “Dammit!” With a fresh pain in her leg, she limped out of the front office and into the hall. Only a burst of fatigue stopped her. Instead, she leaned against a row of post office boxes and gathered her breath.

  A moment later, Karen and Cooper came rushing out a side door. Cooper was wrapped in a sheet, with Karen covered up to her shoulders with a blanket. “Cheryl, are you okay?” Karen hurried up to her.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you two were—you know…” Cheryl’s hand shook. “Dammit, I fell asleep.”

  “It’s all right.” Karen laughed nervously.

  “To be honest, we didn’t really plan on it either, but it just happened.” She then grinned at Cooper.

  “But you’re okay?” Cheryl looked Karen’s face over, probing for any sign of discomfort. “I mean, you’re perfectly okay and everything?”

  Karen clasped Cheryl’s shoulder. “Trust me, I’m good.”

  Cheryl looked to Cooper, then back to Karen. “Oh God.” The tire
d ex-soldier smiled. “I-I’m really happy it’s working out.”

  “I think you should head on home,” Karen said, “We’ll be fine. And you look like you need some serious rest.”

  Cheryl wiped fresh sweat off her face. “You sure?”

  “A thousand percent.” Karen then hugged Cheryl.

  The former soldier bid the pair goodbye and left the post office. A renewed sense of euphoria filled her body with energy. Karen’s rapists would not steal her happiness after all. She even fired off a mental insult at the nightmare she had had in the post office. Take that, you bastards. You’re just a dream now. You can’t hurt me or my friends any longer.

  However, as she reached her own street, her footsteps grew much heavier. The lampposts were lit with special flames inside glass canisters, meant to be temporary until Warren’s electricity idea could be implemented. The disease, however, had slowed down that operation.

  Still, at least the streets had light during the night. It made it possible for Cheryl to get home. As she was, her senses were dulled, her strength drained.

  It’s late, Cheryl thought as she unlocked her front door. I hate to ask Tom to pick up the slack, but I may need an extra nap tomorrow.

  Tom blinked his eyes. He couldn’t get back to sleep. He was trapped in that horrid Neverland where he was too exhausted to get up, but couldn’t fall back into the bliss of sleep.

  Damn, what time is it? The light outside still was dull. Remembering back to before the EMP hit, it was usually about six thirty a.m. when the sky looked like that. He sank back into the mattress. Thomas Criver was an exhausted man. Too exhausted even to sleep correctly.

  He turned on his side. Cheryl’s back faced him, the blanket mostly off her body. She lay still. At least sleeplessness was a foe she had conquered. Tom barely remembered much from when she returned but, apparently, her efforts with Karen and Jamie Cooper had been a complete success.

  Tom scooted up close to his wife. Cheryl was like a reservoir of strength. Holding her was like drinking an elixir. Just being with her would give him the strength he was looking for. He wrapped his arms around her torso, just below her breasts. Cheryl didn’t react. She was definitely deep in dreamtime. Tom smiled. This would be fun to see when he could make her react.

  Tom fished his hand under her shirt to caress her stomach. But instead of the well-toned, smooth flesh of his wife, his hand brushed something harsh, crusty, and even a little wet. No, more like sticky.

  What the hell?

  He withdrew his hand and held it to the light of the window. Red spots covered his fingertips. Blood!

  Tom threw off the blanket and pulled up Cheryl’s shirt. “Shit!” Tom shouted.

  Cheryl’s stomach was covered with the same dry, horrid skin produced by the virus. Her skin bled in spots. Cheryl’s fingernails also had some blood on them. The woman had been scratching herself in her sleep.

  At the same time, Cheryl stirred. “Tom?”

  Tom’s mouth hung open. “Cheryl. Baby.” Tremors shook him.

  “What?” Cheryl then looked at her stomach. Her mouth hung open.

  “No, no.” She shook her head. “It was hot last night. And I was…I was overworked. A rash. Yeah, it must be…”

  Tom wanted to believe it, but he wasn’t someone to deny reality when it just punched him in the face. No, he had to deal with this.

  “The kids.” Cheryl looked at her husband with sudden fright. “The kids. Tom, you have to check them. Dammit, wash your hands, get cleaned up, and don’t have them come in here…”

  “Easy, easy. Yeah, I’ll get on it. You just stay here!”

  The next few minutes were a frenzy of activity. Tom cleaned his hands with water and sanitizer. Then he rushed to Amir’s room.

  “Amir!” Tom did his best to hold it together, but it was hard to disguise his quickened voice, his panting breaths. Amir, Rinaldo and Michael all awoke.

  “Papa?” Amir shook his head.

  “What’s wrong?” Rinaldo asked.

  “I need you all to raise your shirts. I need to check your stomachs.”

  “Why?” Michael asked.

  “He’s checking us for the virus.” Rinaldo yanked up his shirt.

  Michael gripped his covers. “Why? Is something wrong?”

  “Someone’s sick, I know it!” Rinaldo replied.

  “Who? Who?” Michael blurted out.

  “Guys! Guys!” Tom trembled. “Don’t ask too many questions. Just do what I say.”

  All three showed their stomachs, then their chests. None of the three showed any evidence of the virus.

  Tom then addressed Amir. “I need your help. Stay near your mother’s room and don’t let anyone go in there.”

  Amir froze in place. Tom’s order told him, as well as the other two boys, exactly who had been afflicted. Still, Amir did not flinch. “I will.”

  Tom then went from room to room, checking each and every child. The only relief he had felt so far from this terrible morning was none of his kids had shown any symptoms. He then hurried back to his bedroom. Amir still was there.

  “Cheryl?” He flung open the door. Cheryl wasn’t there.

  Panicked, he turned around. “Amir, where did she go?”

  “I don’t know! I didn’t see her leave!”

  Tom turned to the hall leading to the back door. In an instant, Tom understood. He ran like a madman through the corridor and out the door. Cheryl was staggering toward the quarantine tent. Tom caught up with her.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Where does it look like?” Cheryl asked with great irritation. “I have to go into quarantine.”

  “Cheryl?” Tom reached for her.

  The redhead drew back. “Don’t touch me!”

  “I already did!”

  “Then go wash yourself for God’s sake! Clean up now and throw your clothes in a bag, get rid of them! And then go find Doctor Tran! Make sure I didn’t infect our kids.” Then Cheryl started sobbing.

  She stopped short of the tent. Tom knelt down next to her. “I don’t want you to go in there, because I’m scared you’ll never come back out alive.”

  Cheryl wiped her face. “I didn’t get the chance to tell you. Karen and Jamie, they had a very good night.”

  “Really? How good?”

  “I lent her my clothes.” Cheryl giggled. “You know, the ones that really flatter me? Well, she wasn’t wearing them after we got back to the post office.”

  “Hey, I guess Jamie knows the good things in life.” Tom laughed, but even he was tearing up.

  “I know Karen won’t ever be the same after what she went through, but that doesn’t mean she can’t beat it. I know she can be happy with Jamie.” Cheryl stood up.

  “So, I’m going to beat this damned disease. I’m going in, but someday I am going to walk back out.” Then she turned to Tom.

  Tom wiped his face. “We’ve made it through the impossible before. So, I believe we can do it again.”

  Cheryl’s hands were full. Tom had to be the one to open the tent for her. So, he did. Every step she took inside was slow, and to Tom, seemed like an eternity. Then she turned around, dropping her load. She grabbed the plastic’s zipper and pulled on it, sealing herself off from her husband. The pair now were split up by a barrier of plastic.

  Even though he still could see his wife, Tom now suddenly felt very alone. He didn’t want to leave. Cheryl placed her hand against the plastic and nodded. No, Tom wasn’t alone. He had thirteen children who needed him. And even if Cheryl was cocooned in this tent, she still was with him, in spirit if not in body.

  He turned and ran back to the house. He would tell Amir to keep watch over the kids, and then hurry to find Doctor Tran and bring him here.

  Everything’s changed, Tom thought. The stakes couldn’t be higher for him. And right now, Thomas Criver was at the highest point looking down into an abyss, hoping none of his family would fall into it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sittin
g in the chair inside the laboratory of Eagleton’s only hospital, Doctor Daniel Tran’s pen scrawled the sentence in clear printing. The doctor had switched from cursive, knowing his notes were even more crucial in a time where writing could not be easily copied from a machine or reproduced in a digital file on a computer, and thus had to be easily readable.

  31st day since condition of Patient Zero was discovered.

  Tran updated his notes on several patients with the disease.

  Jamie Cooper and Karen Edwards – Still no signs of the disease since they were released from quarantine.

  These two continued drawing Tran’s interest. The pair was in contact with Cheryl Criver shortly before she went back home. The next day, she evidenced clear symptoms of the disease. Either both Cooper and Karen were immune, or they simply never contracted it from Cheryl. The pair also had been intimate following much of their time with Cheryl.

  Tran flipped back a few pages, where his notes on the couple read: Can disease be spread through sexual contact? Saliva? Sperm? He even had circled the last two words for emphasis. The blood tests he had conducted on them showed neither had contracted the disease.

  He shuffled the pages back to the one he was working on. He had to make a grim notation for one person. Sarah Shelton. Deceased late yesterday. Happened quickly. Husband shot by NATO soldiers. Disease hastened by depression? Mental state key to fighting disease? MUST QUESTION FRIENDS ON MENTAL STATE. He underlined the last sentence. He had to know if Mrs. Shelton had suffered from depression after losing her husband.

  Tran’s pen went down a line. Rodney Lyons. Deceased yesterday. Condition rapidly deteriorated after death of his wife. Three children still unaffected. Tran stopped writing. He had had an altercation with Rodney when the man had snapped at a stricken couple, the Poitrases, and told them to go to Eagleton’s hospital to get away from him and his healthy family. In a sad irony, the Poitrases had remained alive, but the Lyonses had not.

  Then he scribbled a new name: Cheryl Criver. She seemed to have been in peak physical condition. She had served as a soldier and then braved the challenges of a world where modern conveniences had been ripped from them by the EMP. Now the former U.S. army sergeant was fighting an enemy she couldn’t take out with a rifle or a grenade—this damned disease.