by J. M. Clark
Jacob and Leanne had only begun to date six months ago. Young love was a thing that did not require a maturation process, so as far as he was concerned, his one true love was dangling from a bridge right at that moment. And he could do nothing to save her. The feeling of being absolutely useless hurt him to the core. Made his stomach turn in fact.
“Okay Jacob. I’m holding on, and I’ll keep calling. But please hurry if you can. I hope your folks are okay. Please let me know something as soon as you make it to them.”
“I will, baby, I promise. Keep calling nine-one-one. They have to pick up eventually, right? You will get through at some point, and I’ll be there in no time. I love you,” Jacob responded. He thought briefly about how this could be the last time they spoke, but he quickly shoved that fear deep down. He couldn’t let his mind go there if he was going to be of any help to anyone.
He called home over and over as he barreled down the highway. No answer. All the while he tried not to see the notifications constantly popping up from different news outlets.
“Don’t look at that trash. They sensationalize all that stuff. It’s meant to getcha going,” his father would say while they drove home from some sports practice of his. Mathew was a great man, a great father. Thinking about him made Jacob even more panicked, remembering the fearful tone of his father’s text message. He pushed down on the gas harder, hitting seventy-five miles per hour.
He wanted to turn on the radio and find a news channel to break the silence, to stop his mind from running in circles, but his brain wouldn’t allow his hand to do so. He drove in fear, his anxiety consuming him like an infant swaddled in its first blanket from the hospital, and he had problems seeing the road clearly. His hands were shaking, and he felt the beginning of a twitch in his left eye. A lump the size of a tennis ball clogged his throat as beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, his stomach was a mess—he thought he may need to pull over to collect his thoughts and calm down, but he couldn’t. He had to get home as fast as possible. He sped up to eighty, tearing down the road like it belonged to him. Only him.
I could just turn on the radio and hear about what’s going on. No harm in knowing the facts. But he knew that wasn’t true. He knew his current reality was best-case scenario. He also knew that what could be waiting on the other side of door number two was much worse, maybe something he couldn’t handle.
He hadn’t opened any of the pop-up notifications on his phone for the same reason he wouldn’t turn on the radio. Not knowing could be as helpful as knowing sometimes, depending on the situation, and he had deemed this situation the “not knowing” type. One crisis at a time. Right now he was dealing with the immediate issue of checking on his parents. He could deal with the rest of the world later.
Instead of checking the news sites, Jacob drove to his parents’ house in pure silence. For that little bit of time, he could still pretend that all was well. It’s just a nasty flu bug going around. People will get treated with meds. Nothing to worry about. After all, he was feeling perfectly fine. He wasn’t sick, so that meant not everyone was sick. That realization comforted him a touch, and he clung to that bit of hope.
The empty streets could be a sign of people staying home for the day maybe. No police, no ambulances, so maybe that was a good sign that things weren’t so bad. If things were terrible, there’d be more cars on the road, right? Instead, there was virtually no traffic, and the day was beautiful. Terrible things like this didn’t happen on beautiful days. Terrible things like this didn’t happen at all.
Jacob brought the car to a steady pace. The last thing he wanted to do was get pulled over by the cops (who were nowhere to be found), which would delay him getting home to check on his parents. No cops are pulling anyone over today, Jake, the most honest portion of his psyche reminded him.
He slowed down and turned his music on through his smartphone and AUX cord. The music was on, he heard it, but he could still be driving in silence and wouldn’t notice the difference. He thumbed through his phone, avoiding news notifications like landmines until he got to the music app. He turned on a playlist Leanne had made for him. It was a good song list, but Jacob’s mind was elsewhere.
Jacob squirmed in the car seat, his stomach a ball of unraveled yarn frayed at the ends. He drove like this for maybe thirty minutes, but to him it seemed like three hours. Hell, even three days. It was hard for him to explain the thought process of wanting to get somewhere as fast as possible but at the same time never wanting to arrive.
He did arrive though, and when he did, all the adrenaline came surging back into his body. His family needed him. His girlfriend needed him. And he needed them all to be okay, because if they weren’t okay, nothing would matter anymore.
Jacob pulled into his driveway. He was almost out of the car before the key was out of the ignition. He slammed the door shut and ran through the grass, jumping over a small flowerbed to the porch and then bursting into the house. He came home to find the same gruesome scene that most survivors found on that quiet Monday morning in the month of October, 2019.
Chapter Two
Trevor
On this Monday afternoon, the sun was high in the sky, and life couldn’t be better in Northern Kentucky. Trevor David Cox sat at the register of his shop, which had stood on Lester Avenue for five years. After leaving the Marine Corps, Trevor had built the shop plank by plank with the help of his brother-in-law, Gerald, and his father.
Now forty-two years old and gearing up for a heavy winter’s snow, Trevor was waiting on a shipment of goods to stock the back room. They always came later in the day, so he knew that today would be a long one. Branden, the clerk he’d hired to work afternoons, had called in sick that morning.
Trevor read through the paper while he waited; the sports page to be exact. He puffed on a Marlboro Red, flicking the ashes into an empty blue coffee mug. Everything was online these days, so you couldn’t help but follow the leader in most things, like online banking, Facebook, and purchasing just about anything you could imagine from Amazon. He thought that some things should remain…vintage, so Trevor still insisted on getting his sports the way his father did; with a cup of joe, a cigarette, and the local newspaper. The Cincinnati Reds still sucked. The Bengals were still flirting with a playoff win—business as usual.
The general store that Trevor and his wife, Amy, owned wasn’t a big shop, but it was one of the more popular in their town. They sold general products, from toilet paper to candy, all the way down to the Time Magazine that Mrs. Nelson came in to purchase every month like clockwork. She also bought pot from a few of the local teens, but of course her secret was safe with them. Traffic flowed like a river on most days. Today was different though.
Trevor was reading an article on the Bengals’ new tight end when Tommy from up the road on Montana Way came walking into the store. Tommy lived in a spiffy double-wide trailer with his girlfriend, Carla, and their two children. His lady worked at a daycare in Florence, and Tommy collected unemployment, going on his second year. He liked to build useless shit to sell on Craigslist. After a few beers, Tommy would claim that if you clocked into a job for The Man, then you were probably a chickenshit and not a man at all. Men don’t work for other men. He was that guy.
“Hey Tommy, what can I help you out with today? You catch the game last night?”
Tommy waved his hand in a “hold on” motion. He walked down the medicine aisle, coughing up a lung the whole way, and began to rifle through all the medicinal options. He grabbed one of each available option and made his way up to the register.
Trevor stared at him. Lots of people had been coming in that morning to get medicine. Something must be going around. He felt fine though.
Tommy’s face was swollen and red, his eyes baggy and irritated. The look you get after rubbing your face raw for an hour to stifle the runny nose and watering eyes that accompanied any good congestion. He shuffled up to the counter and used the corner of it to steady himself with one hand, clumsily
dropping the medicine on the counter.
Trevor stood up. “Are you doing okay, buddy? You don’t look so hot today.”
“Man, me and the ol’ lady are really feeling it this morning.” He paused to rub his nose with the palm of his hand. “She thinks we have the flu or something.” Tommy pulled a tissue out of the back pocket of his blue jeans to wipe his hand clean. He leaned against the counter to balance himself once more.
“Well alright man, I guess it’s good you are getting some medicine then, right? I’ve had a few people come in this morning to get some of the same stuff. Must be something going around. I’m sure this will knock it right out.” Trevor began bagging the products.
“Let’s hope so.” Tommy balled the tissue up and placed it back in his pocket.
“But hey, let me ask you something, Trevor. Have you looked at the news this morning?” Tommy stared at Trevor with the most serious look he could pull off considering his face was swollen twice the size of its original form.
“Outside of this paper, I don’t think that I have, Tom. Why do you ask?” Trevor placed both hands on the counter and gave the sick man his undivided attention.
“I think it would be a good idea that you get around to it. Something crazy is going on, it’s all over the news and stuff. Carla was on the internet all mornin’, scaring the hell out of me with the stories. The president was on there talking about it, and the news channels been sayin’ the same thing, so there must be something to it.”
“Really?” Trevor raised a brow, wondering if Amy had heard about any of this.
“She sayin’ a lot of people all over the country are gettin’ sick. Some folks in other countries have even died.” Tommy paused to sneeze again. “Them folks on the news was sayin’ that a lot of people might die if they don’t see a doctor. Said a lot of people done already died.” Tommy stopped to wipe his nose again, this time with the back of his oil-stained hand.
“They had Mr. Trump on television this mornin’ telling people to stay in the house until they can figure it all out. That’s what I’m doing in here now, gettin' some medicine and stuff so that we have some. Carla told me that the hospitals is all packed full of people and such…but you seem to be alright, right? How’s Amy and the kids? They sayin’ that kids are getting the worst end of it. Our two crumb-snatchers are just as sick as Carla and me.”
Fear jumped to the front of Trevor’s chest like a rabbit out of a hat. He hadn’t spoken to Amy since last night. He woke up early to go on his morning run and then came straight to the store to open. Now that he thought about it, he remembered hearing her cough up a storm in the middle of the night, but she was always catching colds around this time of season, so that wasn’t a reason for concern.
The day before though, their son, Michael, was sent home from school sick. His food wouldn’t stay down last night before bed, and Amy had to rock him to sleep. She hadn’t had to do that since he was a baby, and he was nine years old now. He could have gotten Amy sick.
Oh my God, Trevor thought.
“My wife and kids are fine, thank you very much. What the hell, man?” Trevor demanded, lashing out at the sick man for reasons he couldn’t understand. “What are you tryin’ to say, Tom? You coming in here with this conspiracy shit and asking about my family and carrying on.” Trevor was calling upon an authoritative volume he’d mastered in the Marine Corps, and it made Tom stand at attention.
“Well, I’m sorry, Trevor. I meant nothing by it, you know that. No disrespect meant to you and yours. I was only asking because a lot of folks seem to be getting sick, like I just told ya. That’s all, man, I meant no harm by it.” Tommy took a step back from the counter.
Trevor grimaced. He’d been working on his temper, but he still had a propensity to lose it at a moment’s notice. War changed you. Even when you came home and got a chance to pretend that you didn’t live through hell…you were still different. It didn’t take much to send him back to that familiar place.
“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have come at you in that way, buddy. But like I said, my family is fine, thank you. Is there anything else I can do for you? My lunch break is overdue.” Trevor placed the change on the counter for Tommy to pick up.
Trevor didn’t want to touch the man’s hand. One look at Tommy’s expression showed that he knew it, too. What was understood didn’t need to be explained. Tommy gathered the change and his bag of medicine before shuffling out of the store without another word, coughing and sneezing all the way to his vehicle.
Trevor waited until Tommy’s white pick-up truck was kicking up rocks on the gravel parking lot before he grabbed the store phone and tried to call home, but there was no answer. He tried once more on his cell and got the same thing. Now why would Amy not answer the phone? She should be up by now, Tricia should be at school, and he knew Michael was home sick. It was possible that she had taken him to the doctor though. She did mention that last night before bed. In his mind, Trevor was able to easily justify why Amy wasn’t answering. The alternative was still unthinkable at this point.
Trevor got up from the counter and walked over to the medicine aisle to take a quick inventory of what had been purchased. It was funny to see that when he wasn’t focused on a certain thing—in this case the mass number of meds purchased among other small crap like drinks, chips, and magazines—he could easily overlook something important. He noticed that the only items left in the drug area were a bottle of Pepto-Bismol and one box of off-brand Sudafed. He had never seen the inventory in this section get so low.
Damn. He knew that this area had been replenished last Thursday when the supplies came in. Walking back up the aisle, he noticed an ambulance racing up the road with sirens blaring. That jogged something else in his memory. That was the second time he’d seen the ambulance come past there.
Couldn’t say that it was odd, but he also couldn’t remember the last time he had seen that happen. Things were normally quiet in that area. When you weren’t looking for an anomaly, it was easy to let it stare you in the face without ever giving it a second glance. That made him wonder how many other things he had overlooked since last night. What if Tommy was right?
Without another thought, Trevor walked over to the door and flipped the Open sign to Closed, grabbed his car keys from the side of the register, and ran out of the store. He almost forgot to lock up, but he turned and quickly locked the door before jogging to his truck. Something inside was telling him that he needed to get home. Needed to check on his wife and kids.
It would be okay if someone would just answer the damn phone, but when he called and got nothing once again, it fueled the illogical fear in his mind. And with his background, all fear was to be taken seriously.
I’ll just run home and check on them, make sure no one needs anything, and I’ll come right back to the store. Maybe see if Amy needs me to pick up dinner tonight since she may not be feeling well. Maybe some fried chicken or even McDonald’s. That’s it, no big deal, he thought as he got behind the wheel of his black GMC truck. Trying to calm himself down with a mundane task like planning dinner worked…but only a little.
The drive home was short. The shop was only a few miles from the ranch-style home they had built about ten years prior. Peeling into the driveway, he scattered the crunchy fall leaves from the cement into the grass and barely managed to brake before hitting his garage door. He began to take the key out of the ignition but came to a sudden stop. Then…he just waited. He couldn’t be sure what he was waiting for, but he sat there in the driveway and didn’t make a move.
Alone in the car, he noticed that the keys dangling from the ignition was the only sound outside of the wind blowing and tossing leaves around. Trevor needed to get up and go, but still he waited, like some invisible force kept him glued to the seat.
Maybe he was waiting for Amy to come out of the house with a smile. Maybe Michael would even look out his bedroom window and wave, like he would do so many days when Trevor would get home from work. Mayb
e Tricia would come running from the backyard with her friend Hailey from next door to ask for a ride to the mall…
But nothing happened. Trevor felt alone there in the car, but he felt safe. Safe from what could be, what he feared was waiting for him behind those doors.
The golden leaves rolled up and down the driveway, dancing in the wind, unbothered by the tribulations of man. Nothing in his world had changed just yet, and really, at moments like this, that’s all that really mattered. For this little bit of time, he would enjoy that.
Trevor stared at the garage with his hands on his knees for what felt like hours. But it was probably only five minutes. He didn’t know for sure that something was terribly wrong…but he did. Tommy said lots of people were dying. The need to help his family took priority over his fear, and he decided it was time to face whatever was going on inside of his home.
Trevor reluctantly opened the door to his truck and stepped out, guiding the door shut behind him. He walked up to the front door, turned the knob, and reluctantly stepped inside of his home.
Amy came racing out of the kitchen. She was running full speed with a handful of towels, in an actual sprint, right toward him. She was looking in his direction, but she was also looking through him, past him. She didn’t say a word, and neither did he. When she got about three feet away from him, she made a sharp left at the steps and began taking them two at a time.
Trevor couldn’t remember the last time he saw Amy move that fast. For all intents and purposes, she was growing older and wasn’t in the shape she once was, but she took the steps like the track star she was back in high school. Trevor stood frozen at the front door, staring at the staircase his wife just went bounding up like a frantic deer. He stood still, terrified to follow her—afraid of what waited for him up those stairs.
