by Crane, J. J.
The host was right in that no pictures or video of the mounting dead had surfaced. Also, there were no restrictions issued banning travel to China or Japan or any of the Pacific Rim countries. A flicker of doubt took root in my mind that maybe I was wrong; maybe I made a big mistake. My gut instinct told me to stay the course. Frank said the bug had a long incubation process - you could carry the infection, spread it to hundreds and not even know until it was too late. He also said to watch what you hear.
I was walking in one of the many stores I visited when my brother called. “We’re all in, and we’re leaving early in the morning, so I hope you are ready for us.”
“Beautiful,” I said. “We’ll be there, drive safe.”
After hanging up, I wondered how the sleeping arrangements would work with three extra people. I quickly
realized it didn’t matter. We just became a stronger unit.
The next morning, five days before the end of January,
reports confirmed the virus had spread along the west coast. The first confirmations of cases in St. Louis and Chicago appeared. Several cases also appeared in Philadelphia, Atlanta, Miami, and Durham, North Carolina. Admittedly, I was rather relieved that New York and Boston had not reported any cases. However, I surmised it was merely a matter of time before an official diagnosis of the new virus emerged.
While watching a string of news stories with June, our coffees went cold. She took my cup, but before refilling it, she turned the channel to the BBC. “I want to see what they have to say.” It wasn’t two minutes before we heard about dozens of cases in London as well as in France, Italy, and Germany but still, nothing about fatalities.
As we watched the endless reports and speculation, Curtis came down with his tablet in hand. “Hey, a government official in China is reporting over a million infected.” We turned to look at him. “It’s on Yahoo,” he said as he turned the tablet around to show us. A million. June and I looked at each other and knew we had made the right decision to stock up and take the kids out of school. We sat in stunned disbelief when the doorbell rang. June and I exchanged quizzical looks. Then, as if a light bulb went on at the same time, we, both said “Ted.”
Ted walked in and greeted all of us with a big bear hug and a smile stretching from ear to ear. As I watched my brother greeting everyone, I saw the stereotype of a woodsman come alive, something of a belly, big shoulders, overalls, flannel shirt, and scruffy brown beard. Ted introduced his wife Betty (we hadn’t seen her in years) and their daughter, Samantha. She had blossomed into a lovely young woman. Only sixteen, she carried herself older, brimming with a confidence I knew would help in dealing with the other children in the neighborhood. She stood nearly six feet, a product of Betty’s side, she had long straight dark hair that cascaded down half her back. Unlike some tall girls who tried to hide their height at that age, Samantha wore it proudly, standing straight up, shoulders back, chin high, her bright brown eyes wide like she was ready to take on the world.
June poured them all hot drinks and asked how the ride went. Ted said they left well before sun up and brought two vehicles. Ted drove the RV and Betty drove their pickup truck. Both vehicles had trailers hitched to them stacked with equipment and supplies. They packed their life into those vehicles and bugged out. When I joked that it looked like the only thing they left behind was the house, Ted said it basically was and that he even took a bunch of solar panels off his roof and tied them down to the top of his RV in case we needed them.
Ted and Betty showed us the contents of the RV, packed stern to bow, top to bottom. They had coolers stacked with MRE’s, six months for a family of five at 2000 calories a day, he said. He had soap making material, leather-crafting materials, knitting, sewing, and fire starter materials. He also showed me his woodworking tools, mechanics tools, food sealant devices, two dehydrators, canning jars, and seemingly all the toilet paper, paper towels and napkins one could ask for. When he pulled the cover off the long trailer hitched to the RV, he revealed firewood stacked tight and orderly. He said it was about a months’ worth, give or take if we burned a lot on a daily basis. He also had two chainsaws, the fuel mixtures for them as well as extra blades, an ax, long saw, and other cutting tools.
I pointed at the long antenna strapped to the roof of the RV and asked what it was for. “My Ham radio,” he said. “What did you get walkie-talkies and a CB radio?” he laughed.
“Well, yes,” I said with a touch of sheepishness.
“They’re not going to get you long distance communication,” he said. “I’ve been doing Ham radio for a
few years now. You find out interesting stuff this way, and I
figured that if the world really does hit the shitter, this will be
our best bet for finding out what’s going on. I thought about a satellite phone but hell, they’re expensive, and if things fall apart, well… who the hell is manning the satellites?”
He wasn’t wrong. I gave serious thought to a satellite phone but never pulled the trigger. My top priority always focused on food, fuel, water, and weapons. When I mentioned I drilled a well over a year ago, Ted was impressed.
“Water is key,” he said. “As long as we can pump it out of the ground, we’ll be ok.” He continued to show me the various supplies he brought when he asked me about guns. I told him I had a number of shotguns and rifles.
“What about a handgun?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Never interested me.”
He opened a drawer in the RV where I saw three handguns. He took one out and handed it to me. “I wasn’t sure, but now I am. You’re going to need this on you at all times.”
I protested, but he insisted. “Listen, a rifle is nice, but try carrying that thing around every moment of the day. Trust me… the handgun will make your life easier.”
“What kind is it?” I asked.
“The killing kind,” he shot back with a serious smile. “A Ruger. SR-9 Compact. Wasn’t sure how girly your hands got over the years. Light, slick, conceals easy. Perfect gun for you to get used to carrying.”
I shook my head with a laugh. “Always the character, Ted.”
We started to unpack the RV and truck when Casey and Charlotte circled the cul-de-sac to say hello before heading over to their church where they were going to participate in a program devoted to helping the sick and homeless.
Rolling down the passenger window, I saw Charlotte’s
bright smile. It sent me back to one of the first days we moved into the neighborhood. Charlotte came over with two large trays of food – one lasagna and the other, spaghetti and meatballs. Charlotte walked in with a grace and politeness that beamed right out of Leave it to Beaver. She wore an apron with frills that wrapped around her straight-laced, proper yellow dress. Her smile was as white and wide as a beautiful fluffy sky spring day. She spoke fast but sweet, telling us about the neighbors and the town and how they moved here shortly after getting married over thirty-nine years ago.
It wasn’t too long afterward that we found out they were heavily involved with their church. In fact, that’s where they met. And, ever since that moment, the two of them and their children attended Christ United Methodist Church, just outside of Hartford every Sunday. They also chaired committees and participated in many of the functions therein. It was safe to say; the church was the heartbeat of their lives.
I introduced Ted. Betty and Samantha were inside. I told them Ted and his family had come to wait out the virus here. They both relayed a look of surprise.
“You really think it’s going to be that bad?” Casey asked, the lines of worry carving themselves deeper into his skin right before my eyes. “I’ve heard so many people say they don’t believe all the hype around this thing… no pictures or video and all that.”
I nodded. “Well, we’re hunkering down. No need to start putting ourselves into crowded situations,” I said. “If it’s as bad as some think, I’m going to side with caution.”
I could see Charlotte's
face go pale.
“It’s coming. Did you watch the news this morning?” I asked.
They both said no.
“It’s in the Midwest, West and a couple of cases in the East. No reported cases in our immediate region, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t here,” I said hoping they would stay home. “But it’s inevitable it’ll reach this area at some point.”
Charlotte looked visibly shaken. “We were going to help with delivering clothes and food for the sick at a couple hospitals in Hartford today.”
It was my turn to look visibly shaken. A cold chill ran
through me that the two of them could possibly become
contagions bringing the virus next door to us.
“Charity work is the lifeblood of what this country is about.” Ted chimed in, seeing I had temporarily gone numb.
“It is,” agreed Casey, his face tightening with concern. “Dear, maybe we should rethink this for the day. I mean, they have a full complement of helpers. We were only going as an extra hand in case they needed one.”
I regained my composure. “That would be the most prudent option… for now, just in case.”
Charlotte appeared at a loss for words.
Casey put his hand on her back. “No point in taking that much of a chance, dear. It’s not like they are expecting us.”
Charlotte bowed her head and gave a meek nod. “But, I feel bad.”
“I know you do,” Casey said softly before he picked up his tone. “Next time. We’ll make sure we sign up.”
Charlotte forced a weak smile as she looked up at her husband. “Okay, let’s go home then.”
It was after lunch when we finished unpacking the essentials from the RV, and truck. I told Ted to pull the RV up onto the side of the house so it wouldn’t attract direct attention. We would get to the rest of the supplies later.
The afternoon news reported more of the same, with one notable exception; the first reports of the virus surfaced in Washington D.C., Baltimore, Pittsburgh, and Toronto. In addition, video clips showed scores of people packing into food stores. It was chilling to watch how fast the shelves emptied. Long lines of jittery, nervous, impatient people soon experienced a growing police presence to make sure behavior didn’t get out of hand. The news also reported long lines at walk-in health clinics and hospitals.
“It’s only a matter of time before New York, Boston, and Hartford get it,” June said with tears in her eyes. “This is really happening.”
I grabbed her and held her tight. I felt her begin to weep. I
looked at Maya and nodded for her and Curtis to join in. “Let’s hope we’re all safe. Let’s hope it hasn’t reached us yet.” Silently, I wondered why New York hadn’t reported any cases. Surely someone with the virus had brought it into the largest city in America.
I could see Betty and Samantha tear up as they hugged Ted. “We’ve got this brother,” he said with a tremble in his voice as he looked at me. “Thank you for thinking of us.”
I nodded.
During
Chapter 9
The television was a constant source of bad news and filler sound. It played continuously. When I turned it off, so we could have a break, you would have thought I killed a pet. I just wanted some silence, I explained.
What we needed was a plan as to how to go about the next couple of days. Ted suggested a town hall meeting with the neighbors. We sketched out an agenda for that evening: everyone should call in sick on Thursday and Friday. In addition, we believed people should adhere to a five-day quarantine from each other for precautionary purposes. All people who arrived in the neighborhood after day’s end Friday had to quarantine themselves in the host’s house for at least five days. We understood the terms we proposed sounded strict, but we had to take tough measures to assure no contamination. Our best hope lay in that the virus had not spread to our region.
We added to the list of discussion points, inventory of goods and weapons as well as some form of guard duty. We even discussed food rationing. As we delved deeper into the possibilities, June looked at us in disbelief. “Guys… keep it simple. Discuss contact and quarantine. We all need to deal with one thing at a time for the next day or two. People are going to need to process everything that is beginning to unfold. If you discuss too much, you will lose them, confuse, and possibly even make people more panicky, let alone angry. No one prepares for something like this. Hell, I can barely believe this is happening. The idea of not leaving the house to go anywhere is going to make people jumpy.”
She was right, but at the same time, we had to act proactively and continue to think long term. I decided to leave the discussion to the topic of staying home. With a working agenda set, I contacted all the neighbors via text and phone calls. We agreed to meet at 6:30 pm outside in the cul-de-sac as everyone would be home from work. Some thought it odd to do an outdoor meeting. When I mentioned why; it was met with surprise and a heavy-hearted understanding.
Ted, Betty, June, and I headed out to the cul-de-sac at 6:20 pm. It was dark and chilly out. The five street lights, two in the dead-end, outlined their illumination in angular lines, looking like stick figure umbrellas. We could see people coming out of their houses, shadows moving until they came into the reach of the lights. By 6:30 pm, those who planned on attending had gathered.
“Welcome… thank you for coming out,” I said, gazing at the sullen faces before me. “My brother, Ted and his wife Betty and their daughter Samantha have come to join us.”
A murmur of hellos emanated. We understood this wasn’t the most pleasant situation.
“It’s no news that this new virus is dangerous, lethal even,” I said. “My friend, Frank, the pharmaceutical development specialist, said that if we can afford to bunker down, stay home a few days, ride out the virus as an extreme cautionary move, that would be best.” I reiterated what Frank told me about how long the virus could take to incubate in the body before making someone sick.
“I think if we all took the next day or two off from work… use sick days, personal days or vacation days, just to make sure things don’t get worse, I believe that is a decision that will keep us away from any possibility of contamination.”
Heads shook at this. The disbelief was palpable, whether in denial, the authoritarian way in which I spoke, or the mere fact people might be wasting vacation days on an overhyped news story. Being this was a Wednesday night gathering, I suggested we quarantine ourselves through the weekend. By Monday morning we would know the totality of this event. I stated it was the best way to make sure no one had already contracted the virus and that if everyone stayed home, no one could get infected. If no illness appeared in that period, then we could safely declare ourselves healthy.
“What if this thing is hype, as I’ve been hearing?” Bob Peterson asked. “There are a lot of people who think all this flu talk is an overreaction. No deaths have been reported.”
“I’ve heard the talk as well,” I answered. “As I mentioned… my friend, Frank, has given us inside knowledge about how lethal this virus is. He urged me to be cautious with the information because all the facts weren’t in, but now they are. This virus is the real deal.”
“I don’t know,” Bob stated. “It sounds too fantastical. I understand it’s beginning to get more news coverage, but where’s the tangible evidence?”
“It is a lot to ask of people, Rob,” Pops added.
“It is,” I admitted.
“But Rob’s right,” Jason interjected. “If this thing does get out of hand, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a safe approach. Better safe than sorry to turn a cliché. Besides, I can’t imagine concentrating on work while listening to someone cough or sneeze now that this virus is out there.”
“And, we have lots of people who travel to the west coast, back and forth in my office,” Max added. “I’m with Rob.”
“I manage a plant,” Pam Richards said. “That’s a lot to ask. My higher-ups would be very disappointed. I have thirty-
two people to oversee.”
“My boss won’t be happy either,” blurted Maggie.
“Nor mine,” Katie said.
I felt I might be losing my ground on convincing people about the seriousness of the situation. I had to think quick. “I understand I am asking a lot. It’s not easy to call into work for two days. We’ve all felt that pressure to perform, show up, be reliable, be the rock your boss can count on or be the example of steadiness as a boss… but you are all out here because deep down, regardless of the possible doubt that may gnaw at your consciousness, you feel there might be something to all of this. I would argue to go with that instinct.
Look at the news. It’s trending toward the negative. People are starting to clear off store shelves and show up at hospitals. The current situation isn’t looking good. I took my kids out of school, spent more money than I probably should on supplies of which I will be glad to share. I just ask that you give me this request. I know it’s a tall order but please… come Sunday night, if not sooner, I can guarantee you’ll see that you made the right choice in staying home.”
Silence permeated as if everyone was letting my words sink in. I felt I needed to pound home my point harder.
“Listen, this is something that is coming. You’ve been watching this virus creep across the country, the whole globe. Those people dying in Asia, they could be you and you and you,” I pleaded as I pointed and made eye contact with different neighbors. “Is it hard to believe? Yes. Did this all come about quicker than anyone thought… yes. But it’s here, and in no time the death toll is going to climb… and climb rapidly.” I took a big breath before continuing. “We have a chance. We have insight. Tomorrow, people will be talking about this at the water cooler; someone may infect someone without even knowing it, and that person will infect another, then another and so on. Being in groups, touching things others touch innocently is now inviting tragedy. And, as this virus continues to spread, can you imagine how fast it will catch on throughout the weekend when stores are the most packed, and everyone is touching stuff, coughing, sneezing? The longer we wait to separate ourselves from society, the more we open ourselves to contracting the virus. The virus doesn’t know you, your family, your friends, nor does it care. You are a host for it to thrive then kill. Now is our time to act.”
