Letting out a deep breath, I peered back down the hall toward the gym. I didn’t like how quiet everything was, not compared to what it had been, and though my instinct was to turn back, I walked closer. There was only one way to find help.
The further down the hall I walked, the more I noticed a trend. A couple of purses and backpacks were discarded in the corridor, as well as a lone tennis shoe. Things were hastily abandoned, but it was the fact they were important items, like shoes and purses, that worried me the most. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, but the closer I drew to the gym, the stronger the sickly-sweet stench in the air became. It wasn’t good, whatever it was. Every trembling nerve in my body told me as much.
I swallowed thickly as the gym doors came into view. “Hello, is anyone there—” I stopped a yard or so shy of the doorway, staring at five fingers attached to a half-closed hand lying over the threshold, the rest of the body out of view. I clenched my jaw so tight, my teeth ground together.
Whose hand was in the doorway, and what else would I find when I stepped closer?
I glanced frantically back at Thea and Beau. “Stay there,” I reiterated with a harsh whisper. Whatever authority my voice held was enough, and Beau nodded, pulling his sister closer to him. My eyes were already burning from the acrid scent permeating the corridor, and I knew exactly where it was coming from.
Sucking in a breath, I inched closer. I didn’t want to know what was inside, but some sick part of me needed to—to know what was in the gym.
“Hello?” Like ripping off a bandage, I forced myself to take four quick steps closer so I could see, and just as quickly, as I saw the flash of a gaping mouth and red-splattered body, I spun back around and heaved.
The sight. The scent. The utter disbelief. All of it came pouring out of me, wringing my stomach dry, every last bit of energy with it.
A flash was all I’d needed. Bodies were everywhere. On cots lined up against the walls, wrapped in blankets on the floor. Some bodies were sprawled out, others doubled over. All of them were deceased.
I gagged, spitting the bile from my mouth.
There were carts covered in bloodied rags. I could see the people in their pajamas and scrubs, street clothes and uniforms. Women and men, children and babies. They all came here to die. And I gagged again.
The flu had come and gone, and these people hadn’t made it. But there were others, like me and Beau and Thea, there had to be, and I stumbled back down the hallway toward them. The gymnasium was no longer a makeshift hospital, it was a crypt, and we had to find the other survivors.
“Beau,” I called, clearing my throat. “Where do you live? We have to find your dad.”
16
Sophie
December 11
“Effective immediately, the Coast Guard will patrol all ports and harbors, airports, and railways to enforce this ban. State troopers will patrol the streets to ensure everyone conducts themselves in an orderly manner.”
The sound of an alarm made me jolt up in bed. “What?” I blinked, looking around, momentarily lost in the pale shadows of my room. “Mom?” I said, licking my lips. They were rough against my tongue, and it felt like I’d eaten handfuls of sand.
The high-pitched noise sounded from the living room again, and I startled awake even more.
“The following message is issued at the request of emergency management.” A man’s voice resonated through the house.
“Mom!” I called again, wishing she would turn the TV down. I flung my covers back and winced as I tried to climb out of bed. It felt like I’d been run over by a truck. Twice.
“Due to the possibility of a viral outbreak, a mandatory quarantine has been issued for all cities in Alaska with five hundred or more civilians.”
I paused, my robe in hand, and listened as the man’s words began to sink in.
“Alaska residents, including those in Juneau, Anchorage, and Fairbanks, are asked to stay tuned to television and radio stations for further updates.”
I rushed out to the living room, nearly running into the arm of the couch.
White and bold, EMERGENCY ALERT SYSTEM flashed on the black screen of the TV. A statewide quarantine?
The EAS screen continued to flash in silence. “Mom, are you hearing this?” I fumbled to her bedroom, dread filling me when I saw her bed was made, and she wasn’t in there. “Mom . . .” But she’d turned the TV on, right? Or had I? I remembered screaming and voices in my dreams. Had it been the TV?
I hurried back to the couch and reached for my phone sticking out from between the couch cushions. Only 5 percent battery life. I barely cared. I dialed my mom’s cell as the crazed night came flooding back to me.
“Mom, answer the phone!” I yelped. I pulled my phone from my ear and stared at the clock dumbly.
Two days—I’d been out for two days! I heard my mom’s voice in my phone speaker. “Mom—” I held it to my ear again.
“—Tessa Collins. Please leave me a message, and I will return your call at my earliest convenience. If this is about the upcoming election, please call my work phone at 342-3493. Thank you.”
The message beeped, but all I could do was breathe into the void.
Quarantine. The word was jarring, though I wasn’t sure why. Of course, it made sense. JJ was coughing up blood. She couldn’t breathe.
If things were as bad as I thought they were, the news had to be reporting about it somewhere. I dropped my cell phone and clicked the remote to pull up CNN, but every single channel was the same—black.
The EAS signal beeped again, and the white letters continued to flash on the screen. EMERGENCY ALERT SYSTEM.
“The civil authorities have issued a civil emergency message beginning at 4:05 p.m. The following message is issued at the request of the governor of the state of Alaska. This is not a test. The State of Alaska is declaring an official ban on all trade and commerce. All travel is restricted to minimize the spread of the infectious disease. Effective immediately, the Coast Guard will patrol all ports and harbors, airports, and railways to enforce this ban. State troopers will patrol the streets to ensure everyone conducts themselves in an orderly manner.”
The hole in my stomach grew, and I picked up my phone to dial my mom’s work number this time. I sighed when it wasn’t busy, and sat down on the couch, allowing myself to calm down long enough to catch my breath. But as the phone continued to ring, the nothingness inside my stomach began to churn again. “Pick up,” I pleaded, tears filling my eyes.
I dialed her number again. No answer. Then dialed again, knowing she might not be at her desk, but if she heard her phone ring from wherever she was, she would pick it up . . . if she could. “Please pick—”
“Jenny, it’s Elle!” A voice echoed in the hallway. “Is anyone in there? I’m looking for my sister, Jenny St. James.” I could hear a woman pounding a few doors down. “Jenny, it’s me.” Desperation filled her voice as she drew closer, banging and calling to no avail.
I ran to the door to peek out the peephole. I couldn’t see her.
“Somebody . . . Hello!” A gut-wrenching sob filled the hallway, and I rested my forehead against the door, uncertain if I should open it. A quarantine meant things were bad. She might have been infected, but I was desperate to know what was happening out there. I was desperate to talk to someone.
“Hello,” the woman sobbed, as the hope drained from her voice.
If she’d been downstairs, she could tell me what was happening. Biting my lip, I squeezed the tears from my eyes and shook my head, praying I wouldn’t regret opening the door.
Reluctantly, I unlocked it. Even if I was going to make a run for the elevator to get downstairs, I would have to see her. But when I cracked the door open, the hallway was quiet.
I opened the door further, and poked my head out.
“Hello?” she whispered. She was braced against the wall a dozen yards to the right, cheeks red as she wiped the tears from her wide eyes. Her snow jacket and beanie were
discarded on the carpet, and she clasped her gloved hands together. “Oh, thank God.” She ran toward me, and the gun in her belt flashed in the overhead lights. Barely containing a shriek, I slammed the door shut again, and locked it.
“No!” she shouted.
Stupid. Stupid—stupid Sophie.
“Please—please don’t shut the door.” The woman banged on the other side, rattling my head against the door as I leaned back, silently pleading she’d go away.
I covered my face with my hand to stifle my cries.
“I need to find my sister. She lives on this floor—Jenny St. James. Please—you’re the only person I’ve seen.”
She knocked again, only this time, my breath caught in my throat. The only person she’d seen?
“Do you know her? She’s my twin—she looks just like me.” Her pounding ceased, and I heard a thud against the door. “Please,” she whispered. “I need your help.”
She hadn’t seen anyone else?
Wiping the tears from my eyes, perhaps to appear stronger than I was, I slid the chain lock into place and creaked the door open a crack.
“Oh, thank you—thank you!” The woman was right; she was JJ’s twin, though she was very much alive compared to her sister. “Do you know where Jenny lives?”
“JJ lived there,” I rasped, and nodded next door.
Her twin didn’t skip a beat as she rushed toward the apartment and disappeared inside.
Ten minutes and three glasses of water later, I was dressed in a sweatshirt and my pajama shorts, which was about all I could manage in the heat of the building. I was unable to resist the idea of going next door. JJ’s sister was still in there, and I needed to know what she’d learned downstairs.
Head aching and arms weak, I opened the front door and peeked my head out. JJ’s apartment door was still open, and I could hear footsteps echoing on the tile kitchen floor. Arms wrapped around myself, I crept down the hall, still uncertain I trusted the woman at all, and after a dozen or so yards, I stopped in the doorway of JJ’s apartment, and peered in.
Her twin stood in the kitchen, staring at a photo in her hand. I’d seen twins before, but not identical ones in person. They were so similar and so very different at the same time. JJ’s hair was long, nearly down to her waist, but her sister’s hung just past her shoulders. JJ wore all black most of the time, but her sister looked more like a college student come home for the holidays. She seemed younger somehow too.
The floor creaked beneath my feet, and she looked at me. Her eyes were sad, and dark circles shadowed them. I knew the feeling.
She held up the photo of her sister. “Do you know where she is?”
I blinked at her, uncertain what to say, and in my hesitation, she stepped closer.
“Have you seen my sister or not?” Her nostrils flared, and her voice was thick with fear.
Her sister was dead, I’d seen her name crossed out on the clipboard, but I didn’t know how to tell her; all I could do was nod. “They took her away on a stretcher.”
She straightened and her eyebrows drew together. I wasn’t sure if it was sadness or resolve that filled her green eyes. “To quarantine?”
“I don’t know.” I had no idea if she’d made it that far or not.
“You don’t know? Did she go to quarantine or not?”
“I don’t know!” I barked back, and wiped my nose with my sleeve. “I never saw her again. My mom told me to stay upstairs and not open the door or leave this floor—she made me swear.” It was a plea, a frantic screech, because the truth was I had no idea what happened to her sister, just that she was dying the last time I saw her, and I couldn’t imagine someone coming back from that.
A resigned defeat dimmed the woman’s eyes, and she nodded. It was as if she’d already known. “Where did your mom go?”
I shook my head and threw my hands up. “She was helping the people from the cruise ship on the first floor. I’ve been calling her, but she hasn’t answered.”
This time, her eyes widened with surprise. “She’s the mayor.”
How could she know? I stepped closer, my legs already shaking from both weakness and fear, but I dared to hope. “Have you seen her?”
With an all too familiar reluctance, she nodded. Her steadying deep breath said it all.
Tears, hot and burning in the backs of my eyes, filled my vision. “She’s dead?” I croaked. The sympathy in her gaze barely registered as I choked out a sob. “My mom’s dead?”
A cloud of despair settled over me in her silence. “She’s dead . . . ” I wasn’t sure I’d even spoken the words as every part of me began to unravel. My mom couldn’t be dead. She was going to come home when everything was fixed.
I doubled over, gasping for breath as another body-wracking sob overcame me. I didn’t get to tell her how much I loved her—I didn’t get to say goodbye.
The woman wrapped her arms around me and pulled me against her, her body trembling with quiet sobs. I grabbed hold of her shirt as a cancerous melody of fear, regret, and sadness consumed me. My mom was dead. I would never see her again, ever. And I was alone.
17
Alex
December 11
We checked the tourism office on the first floor, hoping Beau and Thea’s dad would be at his desk, but he wasn’t. I made the kids stay near the broom closet while I checked the video rental shop and market. The market was trashed, completely raided, and I assumed it was to feed the gym full of people who hadn’t made it.
Desperate to find someone besides us, we opted to take the stairs up to Jimmy’s apartment, one floor below the Gundersons. The blood splattered elevator wasn’t something I thought I could handle after what I’d seen in the gym, and I tried to push it from my mind.
Jimmy wasn’t there, but his apartment was destroyed. Everything was upturned and broken, including the window. Even if I knew in my gut that I’d find him eight stories below, I had to check—just to know for sure. I got close enough to lean through the shattered glass and peered down at the second body, half covered in snow. Unlike Mrs. Gunderson, Jimmy’s outline was so far down I couldn’t be entirely certain it was him. I felt guilty not caring much that he was dead, only that he couldn’t help me.
Forcing myself once again to focus, I changed into fresh clothes that didn’t smell like I’d shit myself, and as quickly as I could, I ushered the kids back out to look for their dad. My hope to find him was depleted though, and I did all I could to hold myself together.
They needed someone, and unfortunately for them, I was all they had at the moment. I needed to be strong, for now at least. I had to do this for them.
When we reached their apartment, I knocked on the door. The last thing I needed was someone to shoot me, thinking I was sick. “Mr.—uh—Gunderson? Are you in there? I have Beau and Thea out here with me.”
I glanced down at them; both of their brows etched with hope and worry as they stared at the door, willing it to open. I jiggled the handle, uncertain if I was relieved to find it unlocked, or petrified.
“You guys should stay here until I say it’s okay. All right? We don’t know what’s inside.”
Thea and Beau had been so strong, but the anticipation was too much, and as their expressions began to crumble, their voices broke, and they began to cry. “Dad!” Beau called, and tears filled my eyes. “Are you in there, Daddy?”
Thea wiped at her eyes with little shaking hands, and I knew I needed to get this over with. Clenching my jaw, I crouched down, my vision blurring with tears of my own. “I know you’re scared,” I told them as delicately as I could. “But you have to stay out here, okay? We have to make sure your dad isn’t going to hurt you.” Like your mom did.
That was all Beau needed to hear, and he nodded and licked the tears from his lips.
I pointed to the wall. “Stand back over there until I say it’s safe.” I wasn’t sure having them see their father dead from the virus or not there at all was better or worse.
They leaned a
gainst the wall and slid down to sit beside one another and wait. I stared up at the ceiling. Please . . . Please let him be alive so they have someone left. A clawing sense of desperation to not be the one person they’d have left to rely on made it difficult to step inside.
When I opened the door, there was no more gray light of day, only lamplight from the side tables in the living room. It was sparsely decorated with a futon couch and a bookshelf in the corner, lined with plastic horse figurines and G.I. Joes. A fish tank was lit in the back corner by the window, and a large flat screen TV hung on the far wall.
The apartment smelled like maple syrup and dish soap, and the kitchen was cluttered with a few dirty dishes in the sink. Hand-drawn artwork was stuck to the fridge, and a large chore calendar hung on the wall between the counter and the refrigerator, golden stars filling nearly every day.
I had a fifty-fifty chance their dad was here and not in the gym, likely dead given the silence, and I had three rooms to figure it out.
Wanting to get it over with, I poked my head into the first room, knowing instantly it was Thea’s. Her pink bedspread was pulled back and a barf bowl, filled with vomit that reeked as it hit my nostrils, sat on the beige carpet beside it. Like the rest of the building, their apartment was sweltering hot, and I nearly gagged as I pulled the door shut.
Blinking the burn from my eyes, I turned to the next room. It was Beau’s, and the walls were cluttered with sports posters, and Army figurines scattered across the floor.
The power flickered on and off, and I stared up at the hall light, praying it would give me a few seconds longer. There was one last room to check, and I clung to all the willpower that remained as I nudged open the final bedroom door.
There was no body on the unmade bed. I swallowed thickly and stepped further in. I didn’t see a body on the floor, either. But there was blood, almost like footprints in a chaotic pattern near the mirrored closet door. I saw a flash of red in the bathroom and squeezed my fist closed.
The Longest Night Page 9
