I’m only home from college for the summer, but I want to be sure to help out as much as possible. The old house is big, and my parents are getting up there in years—I was their late-in-life-child—and I can tell it’s getting hard on Mama.
I wrestle the bag of trash out of the can, but it’s so heavy I can barely lift it, like Daddy stuffed it too full instead of taking it out, which is a habit of his. Getting it to the dumpster is going to be fun. I would drag it, but then it will rip open and spill everywhere. Then I’ll be in real trouble.
I lug the bag into the back yard, and the blistering Oklahoma day almost takes my breath away. It’s evening, and the sun is low but still hot. Somewhere in the distance a dog barks, but otherwise the day is quiet.
My family lives in an older part of Altus where the houses are mature and oozing with character. Past Wal-Mart, all the way on the other side of town, are the new homes. They’re nice and big, but cookie cutter, really. Our house is two stories, which isn’t very common in Oklahoma—thanks to tornados—and the yard is bigger than what most of my friends have. We even have a guesthouse in the back yard. It’s small, but provides a little bit of extra income. Since Altus AFB is a training base and such a major part of the community, my parents have always rented the small building out to student pilots coming in.
The grass crunches under my shoes as I head across the yard. I’ve only made it halfway when the door to the guesthouse opens and Blake steps out. It’s like a scene from a movie. The tall, dark, and handsome stranger who’s staying in the house in my back yard steps out just in time to see me struggling with a heavy, too-full trash bag. Right on cue, a bead of sweat rolls down my forehead and into my eye. I try to wipe it away, and in the process the trash bag almost knocks me over with its weight.
Blake rushes forward like the pretend knight in shining armor he is. “Let me help you.”
“Oh! No, it’s okay.”
My tongue feels too big for my mouth with Blake standing so close. He’s cute. Too cute. And older than I am by probably five or six years. His hair is dark and cut short in the typical military style, and his eyes are hazel. Greenish brown and shimmering. He presses his lips together like he’s trying to keep in a laugh, and the dimple in his right cheek deepens.
“Really, Emma, it’s no big deal.”
Somehow, Blake wrestles the bag from my hand, grinning the entire time like he’s on the way to watch a rodeo, not taking a bag of trash to the dumpster. I’m not sure if he wants me to follow him or not, but I find my feet moving that way. Better to give in to the desire and walk next to this super-cute pilot who has the smile of a Greek god than to try to fight it.
“Any plans for the rest of the summer?” Blake asks as he unlocks the back gate and shoves it open.
“Not really.” I shrug as I try to think of something clever to say, but there’s nothing.
I live in Altus, not San Francisco. The Saturday night festivities here are limited to Applebee’s and Wal-Mart.
“Well, with this virus going around, it looks like I’m going to be stuck here for a while,” Blake says.
He lifts the lid on the dumpster and drops the bag in, and I wonder how in the world anyone can look sexy while taking out the trash. It doesn’t seem fair to the rest of the world.
It’s not like I think I’m a dog or anything; in fact, I’d go so far as to call myself cute. My hair is thick and glossy, but a dull shade of brown. Mama never would let me get highlights when I was younger, and now that I have to pay for them myself, I don’t want to waste the money. I’m blessed to have Daddy’s big, brown eyes and Mama’s smooth skin, but I also have Aunt Sally’s ears that stick out way too far. Meaning I look like Dumbo when my hair is pulled back.
I’m still gawking at Blake like an idiot when he turns and flashes me a grin that makes my stomach flip. “Maybe we could hang out? I don’t really know anyone here.”
“Um…sure.” I almost slap myself on the forehead. Can I be less enthusiastic?
Blake doesn’t even blink, so either he’s an idiot or really sure of himself. I’m going to assume it’s the second one. Why wouldn’t a guy who looks like that be sure of himself?
I fix him with my most charming smile. “I mean, that sounds great!”
“Good,” Blake says. “Looking forward to it. I have to run. Meeting some people for dinner, but I’ll talk to you about it later.”
He whistles as he walks away, and I wave after him for about ten seconds before it hits me that he said he’s meeting people. But he’d also told me he doesn’t know anyone… Just an excuse? I’m not sure, but I also don’t care. I’m going out with Blake!
By the time I get back to the house, I’m skipping despite the sweat rolling down my back.
Mama grins my way when I walk back into the kitchen. “How’s our tenant?”
“Fine…” I eye Mama suspiciously, but she only smiles. There’s something going on inside that head of hers, I’m just not sure what.
“He’s a hottie, isn’t he?”
I let out a groan that’s louder than the old, wooden floors beneath my feet. “Mama!”
“Oh, I may be old, but that doesn’t mean I can’t look. I know a good-looking young man when I see one.” She wipes her hands on a towel, still grinning. “Maybe you could show him around?”
“Around?” I snort. “Around where? This is Altus. There’s nothing to show him!”
“Now, now. We may not be New York, but there’s nothing wrong with a small town.”
I roll my eyes, but inside I’m still buzzing with excitement. I have a date! Only I can’t let Mama know yet. If my parents get wind of it, they’ll tease me non-stop.
“They’re saying the ER has been overrun,” Mama says when I walk into the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee.
“Who’s saying that?” I ask, rubbing my eyes. I may have showered and dressed already, but I haven’t had my morning caffeine fix yet, and it is way too early to play guessing games.
“Fran.” Mama looks up from the newspaper, a frown on her face that makes the wrinkles around her eyes deepen. “You know her son’s been sick, and Fran’s always having to run him to the hospital for treatment. Bless her heart. Anyway, she said the place was so crowded they could barely find a parking space the other day. People with high fevers, headaches, sore throats.”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” I say, pouring coffee into the biggest mug we have.
“This thing is everywhere,” Mama replies. “I think we might be in real trouble, Emma. In the cities, people are dying faster than they can get in to see a doctor.”
“Then it’s a good thing we live two hours from the nearest city. Daddy’s not worried, and he’s the one who would be, so it’s probably nothing.”
Mama frowns, but I’m still unconcerned. If there’s something to worry about, Daddy will tell us.
“Where is Daddy?” I ask, holding my mug between my hands like I’m trying to keep them warm.
“Oh, he said he has a headache, so he’s laying down in the living room.”
A shiver runs through me, but I try to push it aside. Mama sounds unconcerned, so it’s probably nothing. “A headache?”
“Just a migraine. You know he gets them from time to time.”
I take a sip of coffee, trying to push the worry to the back of my mind. But it won’t work. Something about it doesn’t sit well with me.
I set my mug down and head into the other room, ignoring the questioning look Mama shoots my way. Daddy is curled up on the couch. His eyes are closed and his forehead is moist with sweat, but he’s covered with a blanket. Shivering. My heart beats faster, and right away I know something is definitely wrong. This is not a migraine.
“Daddy?” I whisper, kneeling at my father’s side. “Are you okay?”
Mama walks into the room behind me as Daddy opens his eyes. He winces when he tries to sit up, and when I push him back down, his skin sizzles against my palms.
“You’re burning up!”
I start to get to my feet, but Daddy stops me. He wraps his hand around my wrist, pulling me close.
“I was wrong,” he says, shivering so hard his teeth chatter together like a cartoon character. “I thought we’d be okay because we were out in the middle of nowhere, but we’re not. All the people coming into the base from all over the country. We were sitting ducks. Too secluded to even put our guard up.”
“Michael,” Mama says, coming over to join me, “what are you saying?”
“It’s here. Altus isn’t any safer than New York. Not against something this big.” His hand tightens on my wrist. “I have a friend. Online. You need to—”
His face contorts in pain and his hand falls away, then he’s up on his feet, moving toward the bathroom like a man who doesn’t have any time left. Mama runs after him, her face pale, but I can’t move. I sink down next to the couch, my mind so muddled and confused I have a hard time grasping any of the thoughts going through my head. They swirl around until I feel dizzy.
The sound of Daddy’s heaving comes from the other room, making me shiver again, and all at once my mind snaps to attention, but only one thought is clear enough to grasp.
Daddy is going to die.
Chapter 2
“Mama?” I whisper.
She lets out a raspy breath that seems to shake her entire body. Her eyes are open, but unseeing. The fever is so high now that she can’t focus. She’s delirious, talking about the past and people I’ve never heard of. I’m not sure if they’re real or imagined. I only know Mama is too out of it to really know I’m here. Every breath she takes seems to hurt, but it’s better than the screaming from earlier. Every inch of her body ached until she couldn’t even sit still, but every move she made hurt more than the last. The end is near, and I know it, but I can’t bring myself to really accept it. Not after watching Daddy die less than a day ago.
“Emma.”
My name wheezes out of Mama’s mouth, but it’s so quiet I find myself wondering if I imagined it. Then her eyes focus and move across the room, finally landing on my face. She blinks, and a tear rolls down her cheek.
“Mama.”
I grab her hand as tears pool in my eyes. I have to blink them away so I can see, but once I do, I’m not sure I want to look at her anymore. Mama looks like death. She’s suffering, and I know this is the image that will be burned into my brain for the rest of my life. However short that might be.
“I…” Mama swallows then starts to cough. Her breathing thickens and slows. Every puff of air sounds wet like she’s half underwater. The end is near.
“Mama!” I call, trying to talk over the sobs shaking my body. “What? What did you want to say? Mama, please!”
She closes her eyes, and her features tighten like she hurts too much to go on. I understand because that’s how my chest feels. Like it’s being crushed. Like I’m being crushed. Mama gasps, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Every muscle tenses and her face turns red, her lips blue. She’s desperate for air. I sit at her side, helplessly watching her struggle to live, knowing there’s nothing I can do.
Then she lets out one last breath, and her face relaxes. Her body seems to sink into the couch, and right before my eyes the color drains from her skin. It’s as if her body has been dunked in bleach. Mama goes from being pink and full of life one second, to looking like a pale shell of a woman the next.
I collapse as sobs tear through me, shaking my shoulders until they bang against the wood floor, leaving bruises behind. I’m alone, and the world around me is dying. I know it, can feel it deep inside me. I’ll be next, only it will be a million times worse because I’ll be by myself. There’s no one left to hold my hand or comfort me when the pain gets bad. No one to wipe my face or bring me water. No one will be here to cry when I finally take one last, horrible breath.
Eventually, I force myself to stand and go outside. It’s dark, but the moon is high and bright. The world is terrifyingly silent. There are no distant sounds of cars or people playing music too loudly. No children laughing as they chase fireflies. The news has been playing the same stories over and over again as more and more people succumb to the virus, but the message is loud and clear. Civilization is disappearing.
I lie down in the middle of the yard and stare up at the sky. The grass beneath me is crisp and dry, and it pokes at my skin, but I can’t find enough energy to care. Not after what I’ve been through.
I’ve been lying here for less than ten minutes when the door to the guesthouse opens. Footsteps cross the yard, and Blake sits down next to me. I haven’t spoken to him since he asked me out. With everything else going on, I’d almost forgotten about him, but the warmth his unexpected presence brings is not unwelcome. A fear had lived in the back of my mind that I might be the last person left alive in Altus. Knowing that isn’t true is comforting, even if this man is practically a stranger.
“Are you okay?” Blake’s voice is so loud it seems to echo through the still night.
“No.”
“Your parents are dead.”
I turn to look at him, nodding gently against the rough grass. I don’t have to ask how he knew. The second his hazel eyes meet mine, I can see the answer in them. It’s like looking in a mirror.
“Yours?” I whisper even though I already know the answer.
“Yup.” Blake lies down at my side, and I turn my face toward the sky. “At least I think so. I talked to my mom this morning. Dad was sick, and she had a headache. Last time I tried to call, no one answered.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“I’m sorry about your parents.”
“I guess we’re next.”
“Maybe we won’t be.” Blake lets out deep sigh and shakes his head. “The news said some people are immune. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“Maybe,” I whisper.
For a few minutes, we don’t talk, but the silence is even more painful than watching Mama die. I can’t stand it, but with my brain buzzing the way it is, I have a hard time thinking of what to say. I need something to dull my senses.
“Let’s get drunk,” I blurt.
Blake pushes himself off the ground. He holds his hand out, and I take it without hesitating, and then he leads me to the little house at the back of my yard. We’ll probably be dead by this time tomorrow, but in the meantime, I want to forget.
I wake with a headache, and when I sit up, my stomach rolls. Even though it makes me break out in a cold sweat, deep down I know it isn’t the virus. This isn’t my first hangover, so the feeling isn’t a new one.
I look down at Blake, who is fast asleep on the other side of the bed, and try to remember what we talked about the night before. We’d avoided any mention of family. That much I know for sure. I vaguely remember him talking about traveling overseas. He’s been to Iraq and Afghanistan, of course, but also Germany and Italy. Spain, Greece, Japan. Places I’ll never have a chance to see. Even if I don’t die, the world will never be the same.
What if I live? What if I’m immune, but Blake dies? Leaves me alone again. I barely know him, but still the thought makes my already uneasy stomach do somersaults. Being with a stranger is better than being alone.
“Blake.” I shake his arm, and he lets out a little groan. “Wake up.”
He rolls over and cracks one eye. His cheeks are red and his eyes bloodshot. It makes my heart beat faster. Does that mean he’s sick? No. He can’t be. Can he?
“It’s too early,” he says, shutting his eyes again.
I say a silent prayer then put my hand on his forehead to check if he’s warm. My hand is trembling, but the second my skin touches his, I let out a deep breath. He isn’t hot. Not the way Mama and Daddy were.
Blake’s eyes open, and this time he’s wide awake. “I feel fine.”
“I wanted to be sure.” I pull my hand back like I’ve been caught with it in the cookie jar.
We sit staring at each other for what feels like hours. I don’t have a c
lue what to say, and it’s obvious Blake doesn’t either. We have a couple days to get through before we know whether we’re in the clear, but I don’t have the faintest idea what to do in the meantime.
“What do we do from here?” Blake asks, sitting up. Not addressing the elephant in the room, which is the fact that it might not matter because we could be next. “There has to be somewhere we can go. The government has to have a contingency plan, right? An area set aside for people who aren’t sick or something.”
I think back, going over all the stuff Daddy had said before he got sick. He was always on that damn computer, but usually when he told me about the stuff he’d read, I let it go in one ear and out the other. If only I could remember something useful.
“My dad was really into doomsday stuff,” I begin, wincing slightly when it hits me that I just spoke of him in past tense. That’s going to take some getting used to. “He knew people online, and there were theories about all this when it started.”
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and try to remember, but it’s gone.
“Did he mention a place that might be safe?” Blake’s eyes are brighter, more alert.
I shake my head when nothing comes to mind, then jump to my feet, searching the room for my shoes. I’d fallen asleep in my clothes, so I don’t need to worry about getting dressed.
“He might still be logged on,” I say, bending over to grab my flip-flops when I catch sight of them on the floor. My head pounds, and I do my best to ignore the wave of nausea that washes over me. “It’s possible we could find some information.”
Blake rolls out of bed, rubbing his eyes. He looks as hungover as I feel.
“Better we do it sooner rather than later,” he says, following me to the door. “With the way this thing is moving, it’s not going to be long before we lose power, then we’ll be out of luck.”
I freeze halfway through the door. That’s something I haven’t even thought of, but it’s true. Soon the electricity will go out, then the gas and water. We’re on the brink of losing all technology. Then what will we do? People from our generation have never faced a world with no cell phones or Internet. They don’t know what it’s like to have to follow a map to get to their destination, or how to look something up without Google. Everything we’ve ever needed to make it through the day fit in the palm of our hands, but soon all that knowledge will be useless. Like a lot of people will be.
The Oklahoma Wastelands Series Box Set | Books 1-3 Page 27
