Defending Against Affliction

by Connor Mccoy

  Condition the same, he wrote. Strong mental state? Why infected? Immune system weakened by contact with pathogens in foreign countries? Virus interaction with foreign pathogens? Perhaps Mother Nature simply refused to discriminate.

  No, he thought. There are answers to everything. Tran mentally dueled with the two concepts—mindless fatalism and discoverable logic.

  He added on the page: Children remain disease free. Immunity very likely. Thomas Criver remains healthy as well. Speculation ran rampant in Tran’s mind. The children all may have been vaccinated for various diseases prior to the collapse of society, so their immune systems may be strong. Tom Criver testified to receiving vaccinations as well. They also could have a natural immunity.

  Then he added his last note: Death and infection toll about twenty percent.

  Thomas Criver did not want to be here. He clutched the flowers in his hands. It was not that he felt uncomfortable at a funeral service or in front of a grave. It was just that he seemed to be doing it too much the past few days. Each death was like a punch in the gut. This one, however, was several times worse.

  The white marker that bore Sarah Shelton’s name stuck up from the grass. A fresh mound of dirt lay over the casket that held Sarah’s lifeless body. She had been buried there just in the past hour. It was scary how fast the cemetery workers worked. Perhaps they were getting a lot of practice.

  There was no birth date on the marker. No one knew when she was born. It was one of the problems of a world where computer information wasn’t available. She wasn’t even a native of their town of Eagleton. She had come with her family, her husband Eric, and his father Bernard.

  Tom turned his head. Two more graves lay to the side of Sarah’s. Bernard had died of an ailment, possibly cancer that could not be detected without modern medical equipment. Eric was another matter. He was a young man with a passionate desire to preserve the freedom of this town. Sadly, he ended up losing his life to protect that freedom. He was the first casualty of the NATO military occupation that seized Eagleton in its grip. His wife Sarah fought to bring it to an end and free Tom when he and the rest of Eagleton’s men were imprisoned by the NATO troops.

  And then this mysterious disease emerged and claimed her life.

  Tom knelt down and put the flowers against her marker. The flowers would be from him and Cheryl, who couldn’t be here. However, Tom was not alone. He was flanked by a group of Eagleton’s citizens, many of whom were his dearest friends—Catherine Rossi, Lauren Whittaker, Nadia Daniels, Karen Edwards, Bridget Tanner, Jamie Cooper, and a handful of others, mostly all ladies, who knew Sarah. It was also rare to see this many people out and about at all. The fact that the death of a friend was the only thing that drew people out now turned his stomach.

  As Tom turned, glancing at the faces of his friends, he remembered some of the sights and sounds of their anguish when Sarah had died. He was haunted by Lauren’s lamentations.

  “I don’t understand. She was fine. She didn’t show any signs of being sick, so I let her out, and then she just went downhill…”

  Nadia also had been shaken. She had not been doing well since Cheryl had become sick. Nadia was so horrified that she broke down in sobs upon hearing the news. Sarah’s death was another hit. Next to Cheryl, Nadia was one of the toughest women Tom had met. To see her rocked like this was painful.

  Catherine Rossi, the town’s new librarian, had an ashen look. Like some of the other ladies who worked to free the town, she looked at Sarah as a pillar of strength. Catherine was a quiet person, always one of the least noticeable in any group. And like Sarah, Catherine had lost her husband in the war with Major Volhein’s men. The two had that special connection, one that Cathy never could draw upon again.

  Finally, Tom started his trek away from the Shelton graves. The rest of the people followed closely.

  Tom sighed as he raised his glass of wine. It was from a sealed-up bottle of wine taken from a NATO supply tent. This entire meal was cultivated carefully from sealed-up cans and containers from either the stash the town had captured from Major Volhein’s tents or the haul Tom and Cheryl had received from Adelson.

  “Obie would have loved to be here, but as some of you know, he’s helping to look after my kids,” Tom said. He looked around the diner where the party that mourned Sarah had gathered. “He sends his best wishes.”

  A middle-aged couple, Mr. and Mrs. Barks, raised their glasses. “You can dine here for as long as you want, our treat,” the male half of the couple, Edgar, said. The others all held drinks of various types, from wine to beer to soda to water. There were nods of the head, smiles, and a few sips.

  This diner had been used, like much of the town, as a place of refuge for survivors of the EMP that destroyed America’s electrical grids and electronic devices. Over the past year, the people of the town, having renamed it Eagleton, sought to restore stores and businesses to their old use. The Barks family was originally part of Obadiah Stone’s “tribe,” a playful term to describe a large group of survivors who had made their way here from up north. Edgar and Inga Barks had taken over the diner and were making it work again, or at least they were until the mystery disease had struck Eagleton. Now nobody came around at all. Nobody would trust restaurant food. Nobody wanted to be around anyone else.

  Tom rejoined the crowd. He soon overheard one of the ladies ask Catherine, “Did Sarah have any children?”

  “No,” Catherine replied.

  “Thank God,” the lady replied. Then she quickly said, “Oh, I don’t mean it was good they had no kids. It’s just that now, there’s no children left without their parents.”

  Sadly, the fact that the Sheltons were childless was a bit of a blessing. The last few patients who died all had left children behind. With no relatives, the orphans were left with either close friends of the family or were just moved to parents who were willing to take care of them. The Barkses recently had taken in the three Lyons children. Deaths caused by the mystery disease were creating patchwork families. Tom was startled one day when he passed by a residence and saw two Caucasian children, a black boy and an Asian girl. How many more families outside of this town looked like this? Were there many families created, not by blood, but by love and devotion for surviving kids who had nowhere else to go?

  “You know what really sucks about this?” Bridget stared into a drink.

  The young woman was one of the most vivacious ladies Tom had met recently, but even she was looking worn down, with bags under her eyes and limp hair. She worked at the Eagleton hospital, assisting with caring for the ever-growing number of patients.

  “We only meet like this when people die. My neighbor, he doesn’t even come out of his house anymore.”

  Tom’s attention next turned to Jamie Cooper. He was fairly new to their town of Eagleton, and had lived for a time in the same town as Doctor Tran. A thin young man with ebony skin and a European accent that sounded British but still was ambiguous enough for Tom not to place it, Cooper had run for their town council and defeated Cheryl’s good friend Nadia for a seat. The young man was friendly, energetic, and bursting with ideas for the town, but the coming of the disease had shut down many of those plans.

  “Hey!” Tom raised a hand as he came into Jamie’s view.

  “Thomas Criver.” Jamie smiled as he shook Tom’s hand. “I was wondering how all is going at your home, particularly your wife.”

  “Yeah, please.” Karen stepped up from behind Jamie. “I haven’t heard anything in days.”

  “She’s a trooper.” Tom chuckled at his little joke.

  “I’m sure she’d tell me that’s incorrect, that troopers and soldiers are different. Anyway, she’s hanging in there. She’s awake most of the time, she holds down food for the most part, and she needs lot of liquids. Oh, and we can’t feed her potato and cheese soup.” Pursing his lips, he shook his head.

  “Sounds like she must have thrown it up,” Jamie said.

  “Bad for both ends, let’s just p
ut it that way.” Tom took a drink.

  “God,” Karen said, flashing Tom and then Jamie a pained look.

  “I’m glad I ran into you.” Jamie pointed to Tom with his drink hand. “I’ve been thinking about taking another road trip.”

  “To where?” Tom asked.

  “Adelson. Where you went with Cheryl. Perhaps we can find additional medicine and also learn if anyone else outside of town has caught this disease,” Cooper replied.

  Tom sighed. “I wish I could, but there’s no way I can leave Cheryl.”

  “I know. I won’t ask you to do it. But I may need help in getting the gasoline together to make sure I can make it there and back. If there is none in Adelson, I may not be able to get the truck back. Also, I want to put together a big trading package so I can trade for medicine and supplies.”

  “There should be more than enough from the gardens,” Tom said.

  “Yes, but it’s much harder to talk to people nowadays.” Jamie looked down at his drink. “And some people are a lot less trusting of new people recently.”

  Karen let out a disgusted huff. Unfortunately, the disease had brought out some of the worst instincts in some of the citizens, mostly because no one knew where this thing had come from. It could have hitched a ride on anybody coming into town, so newcomers and recent arrivals were suspect.

  “I know you have a great reputation. Could you maybe talk to people, get them to donate a little for the package?” Jamie asked.

  “I’ll give it a shot. I do meet with a couple of guys pretty regularly. I probably could pull something together,” Tom replied.

  “That is good! Thank you,” Jamie said with a widening smile.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Be careful, you’re going to burn them!” Irvin said.

  Dominick turned the eggs over with the spatula. “Dad said they can’t be too greasy or Mom will throw up!”

  “They’re starting to turn brown. They’re good! Put them on the plate!” Irvin pointed to the white dish on the wooden stand.

  “Okay, okay, but if Mom gets diarrhea, it’s all your fault!” Dominick scooped up the eggs on top of the spatula and loaded them onto the dish.

  Irvin fumed under his breath, but said nothing. The boy, one of the smallest of the Criver clan, was fast becoming a talented cook, though their father made sure they did it outside on the grill. Even if this was a world where the kids had to fend for themselves in the absence of modern conveniences, there was no way in hell Tom Criver was going to let his kids handle fire inside the house. In fact, they were being watched carefully by Amir and Alice. Two buckets of water lay on the backyard grass, ready to be employed should an accident occur.

  Even though Irvin was usually the most timid of the children, when it came to cooking he acted as if he was king. “Terry, don’t get too close to the dish. You’re drooling!”

  “I am not!” The older boy still backed off and wiped his face. “I’m just….hungry, okay? How come we can’t have any eggs?”

  “Because Dad couldn’t get any more eggs.” Annie walked by, chomping on an apple. “Nobody wants to trade anything.”

  “Yeah, because they’re all afraid they’re going to get sick!” Dominick waved his hands. “Ooooh, here come the germs.”

  “That’s not funny!” Alice walked up to the breakfast plates on the stand. There were two, one with toast, peaches and grits, and the other with the eggs Dominick just had cooked. “You know people are dying.”

  “Hey, I don’t think it’s funny!” Dominick backed up a little. “It just sucks that we can’t go anywhere!”

  “It’s not our fault.” Alice took the dishes. “Nobody wants to be around anybody anymore.”

  Tom closed the pink cardboard card. “Your mom is going to love these.” Smiling, he kissed the cheeks of Kristin and Jackie, his two youngest girls. Tom then placed the card in a small cardboard box, which was stacked with cards and notes.

  Jackie quickly pointed to a red card on its side. “Put that one on top! We got everyone to sign that one!”

  “Really?” Tom picked it out and opened it up. A message covered the left flap, made of letters cut out of colored paper, “Get Well Soon! We All Love You!” The right side was signed by all the kids, with some writing more legible than others.

  Tom was glad to learn that all the kids could write and read. Before the virus hit, he and Cheryl were working out plans for a formal education for all of them, but with Cheryl sick, there was no time to work out such a plan.

  Tom stuck the card on top of the stack. “This’ll be the first one she sees, I swear.”

  He picked up the box and walked out of the dining room toward the kitchen. As he approached the door, Alice showed up with the plates of food.

  “Dad, Mom’s breakfast is ready,” Alice announced.

  “What about the ketchup?” Kristin asked.

  “Ketchup?” Alice asked.

  “To put on her eggs.” Kristin licked her lips. “You should always have ketchup on eggs!”

  Frowning, Alice turned to her father. “Is that okay? Can Mom have that?”

  Tom put the box down on the counter. “If it’s not greasy, it should be okay. Hey, if we have any ketchup, stick it in a small plastic dish. Let your mom decide if she wants it.”

  Then he stepped past Alice and shouted out of the door, “Amir! I need your muscles, man!”

  Tom’s footsteps felt heavier as he approached the tent in his backyard. On the surface, it looked like an ordinary camping tent. But he knew what it was, a prison. A prison for his wife.

  Beside him, Amir carried the box. The boy wore a mask and protective clothing. It probably wasn’t necessary, but Tom refused to take any chances with his child. Even Cheryl asked that the kids, if they had to approach the tent, wear their protection.

  As Tom got closer, his heart quickened. His greatest fear was approaching the tent to find no movement whatsoever, to learn that his love had expired in that gap of time when he wasn’t with her. The way this damn disease worked, Tom couldn’t be sure of anything. It suddenly had stolen the life of Sarah, after all.

  Knock that shit off, Tom thought. This is Cheryl you’re thinking about. No, his wife was made of tough stuff. If anyone could beat this virus, she could.

  As he got into the shadow of the tent, a familiar figure approached the plastic. Cheryl Dennis Criver stood there, wearing an old blue robe. She waved to the approaching pair.

  “Hey!” Her voice sounded dry and a little tired.

  “Hey!” Tom did his best to sound cheerful. “We come bearing breakfast in bed. Well, it’s more like breakfast in a tent, but I’m sure it’s close enough.”

  Cheryl turned in Amir’s direction. “Hey there. Come to pay your Mom a visit?”

  Amir nodded. “We have all these cards for you.”

  “Really?” Cheryl smiled widely.

  “You bet. Hey Amir, show your mom the first one of the bunch while I set this down.” There was a folded out stand near the tent where Tom could place food. Amir showed Cheryl the top card on the stack while Tom set down his load.

  “Aww, thank you!” Cheryl said after reading it.

  Amir walked toward the slot in the plastic. They used it to feed food, water or medicine through to Cheryl, but the redhead quickly said, “Hey, how about showing me another card? I can’t wait to see what else you have!”

  Amir obeyed, turning back to put down the card in the box, then show his mother another one. Cheryl kept Amir going for a while until she asked, “Sweetie, can I talk to your father alone for a little while? I promise I’ll have more visiting time for you soon.”

  “Okay.” Amir left Cheryl and Tom. By now Tom had fed the breakfast through the slot and Cheryl had taken small bites of it.

  Cheryl then leaned in Tom’s direction. “Could you do me a favor? Please put those cards away for me. If I take them, I might get germs on them, and I really don’t want to have to destroy them.”

  Tom nodded. “Don’t
worry. I’ll hide them in the center of the Earth if I have to until you’re better.”

  “Thanks.” Cheryl then took another bite of the grits. “This is so good. Was all this Irvin?”

  “Irvin, Dominick, and a little Annie. And Michael picked the peaches. Those are pretty much our last eggs, but we all wanted you to have them.”

  “You really can’t get any more eggs? I know we have three families on this block alone who are raising chickens and we trade with them all the time.”

  “Two families.” Tom narrowed his eyes. “The Rodriguez clan took off not long ago.”

  “Another one left?” Cheryl closed her eyes. “God.”

  “It’s a mess. At Sarah’s funeral, that was the most people I ever saw together in weeks. The only time I ever get info is when I meet up with Lee Issacson for drinks.”

  “He’s still having those get-togethers?” Cheryl said before munching on more toast.

  “Yeah, but that’s as far as I get nowadays. They don’t even let their families come over anymore. Although Ricardo…”

  “The new guy?” Cheryl quickly asked.

  “Yeah. He’s got some kids. He may be coming over soon. I’d love for the children to have some friends. They’ve been holed up here for so long they’re starting to go crazy.”

  “How about getting some books from the library?” Cheryl licked her lips. “When we were over there they’d always find something to read.”

  “That’s a good idea. Maybe I can borrow a couple of the kids and make a haul. Gives me an excuse to check on Catherine.”

  Suddenly, Cheryl spat out a gob of egg onto the plastic. She erupted into a coughing spasm.

  “Cheryl!” Tom stood up.

  The former soldier waved him off. “No…” She straightened up, trying to clear her throat. “I’m…okay.” The coughing finally tapered off. “I just swallowed down the wrong lane…damn.”