by C C Roth
We nodded.
“And if someone comes too close, you turn and run away.”
“Awesome pep-talk, Mom. I feel super pumped to go outside now.”
She ignored my snarky remark and went back to fluttering around all the piles of overly organized boxes and bags by the door.
Mike’s face was covered in disapproval. “Go easy on her, Sam. It’s a hard day for everyone.”
Ugh, his goodness was exhausting sometimes.
The chill punched me in the face as I stepped out onto our front porch, but the fresh air was a welcome gift. I breathed it in deeply and held the frost in my lungs for as long as I could before releasing it in a huge cloud. It seemed to float motionless in front of me in the dense air. I looked to my right knowing that Mary would still be on the sidewalk, but her outline was barely visible in the darkness. Mike gave me a nudge and we headed to the car. It was early in the morning when we left, before sunrise, hoping to avoid too many people. But it wasn’t as if folks would be getting up early for work. Unless you were military or worked at a hospital you were supposed to stay home. But then again, the news was full of reports and videos of people looting and terrorizing each other so we knew not everyone was playing by the rules. No one said it as we piled into the car but the fear was on all our minds. My dad turned and smiled at me from the front seat. He could see the apprehension on my face.
“Don’t worry,” he said casually, “no one ever woke up early to go looting, it just doesn’t happen. And besides, it’s really hard to incite a riot before eight am. No one’s even had their coffee yet.”
I grinned at his joke but my heart wasn’t in it. We only had to drive for about an hour so what could possibly go wrong in that amount of time, right?
Outside everything felt alien. I hadn’t been out of the house in over a month now and even the sensation of riding in a car felt strange. The landscape in our neighborhood was much changed as well. What was once an upper class suburb with perfect lawns and inviting houses was now more like a decaying ghost town. Some people had boarded up their windows and doors, some houses had been broken into and all but destroyed, and there were several dogs walking around confused and shivering; their families most likely dead or too sick to care for them. Snow still covered the grass and there were sad looking Christmas decorations everywhere that might never come down. A stillness hung in the air that often accompanies winter. I used to welcome it, the crisp calm that signaled holidays and winter break. But today somehow it felt ominous as if the silence was a false promise of safe travels ahead. I didn’t know it at the time but there would be no more safe travels for anyone anymore.
We passed no other drivers on the road as we left our neighborhood, only abandoned cars scattered randomly along the sidelines, and it was sheer luck the weather had been in our favor. If we’d had a big snow then we would have been trapped in the house since no one was out clearing the roads. Of course luck had nothing to do with it. Mom had planned our exit down to the minute, I just didn’t know it at the time. Our next obstacle would be the roadblocks just outside the city limits. After the virus had started to claim so many lives and was showing no signs of stopping, the military and local law enforcement had been assigned to checkpoints at heavily populated areas and no one was allowed in or out. It hadn’t occurred to me to think of the checkpoints that morning, that we might not even be allowed to leave. After all, we were good people just heading out of town for a bit. No big deal. But everyone was supposed to stay home to help prevent the spread of the virus. So, by leaving we were technically breaking the law. It was just a question of whether or not someone would be there to enforce it. Dad slowed the car as we approached the first roadblock to the highway but no one was there. The guard posts were empty and easily maneuvered around so it didn’t look like we’d be getting arrested just then.
Several yards away I saw a man standing in his front lawn as we drove past. He was wearing a coat over his pajamas and standing stock still over a large fire on the ground. I couldn’t tell for sure what he was burning but it resembled the shape of a body wrapped in a blanket. He glanced up as our car rolled by and our eyes met for the briefest moment, his expression defeated and dark. A chill ran through me and I quickly turned to face forward again. Five minutes later we made it to the interstate on-ramp and everyone audibly exhaled as we slowed to pass another roadblock which had clearly also been abandoned. No guards, no trucks, and the wooden sawhorse barricades had been hastily knocked aside. For some reason this didn’t exactly make me feel warm and fuzzy.
“Where has everyone gone? The news said theses checkpoints are still manned. Why aren’t there any guards anymore?” I asked nervously.
My parents’ faces were mirror expressions of worry. “They were probably needed somewhere else. Maybe things aren’t so bad here anymore so they went to help other people,” Mom said with an assuring tone.
“Well said, Ally my sweet. That’s why you’re the brains of this operation. Mom’s right, Sam. All of the states neighboring California are freaking out, so I bet some of our local military was pulled out there to help.”
It was clear that wasn’t the truth but I didn’t want to argue. In hindsight I suppose I didn’t really want to hear the truth. I was such a child still and all I wanted was the comfort of a parent’s empty promise that everything would be okay. Mom switched on the radio to the news and Terri Greene, the Director of the CDC, was being interviewed again for what had to be the thousandth time. Every station was constantly running and re-running her latest updates and it was getting to feel like something was missing from your day if you didn’t hear her voice.
“Why do you think your team is having such a difficult time attacking this virus?” asked the reporter.
“Well to be honest it is killing us so quickly that it should stop spreading soon. The loss of life has been catastrophic but should slow down over the next several months as long as people continue to take precautions and avoid coming into contact with one another.”
“Mm-hmm, I see. But why exactly is this something we can’t stop right now? How long will it take to develop a vaccine?”
“I don’t have a good answer for you, I’m afraid. This virus, we’ve started referring to as Avian-X, does not behave like any other deadly strain we are familiar with and so it is taking us some time to get to know it. And we are working short-handed due to so many of our employees having been on holiday vacation when this viral attack was released.”
“Avian-X? Did I hear you correctly?”
“Yes. Most viruses are named after their origin or their proteins but there are too many unknowns here so we went with X, the mathematical unknown. This virus was engineered as a weapon and unfortunately it is an incredibly effective one. Right now we are following the facts and we are confident we will have all the answers soon. We do know a shipment of birds into Boston was the Trojan horse, so to speak, and it spread from birds to humans very fast. It does mimic a few well known culprits in some respects, specifically the Asian Flu, and we at the CDC are working day and night and we will not stop until we know how to beat it. I know it is frustrating and terrifying but even in this modern age we are susceptible to outbreaks like this. The Spanish Flu epidemic was only 100 years ago, claimed nearly 100 million lives worldwide and had a 10 to 20 percent mortality rate. And that was just nature doing what it does. This virus we are faced with now was created to kill and that’s exactly what it is doing.”
“I see. And what is the mortality rate of this virus we are battling now? The Avian-X virus.”
A long silence passed before she spoke. “As far as we can tell it is 100 percent. We have had no reports of anyone surviving the infection. But we are hopeful.”
“Thank you, Terri. We’ll let you get back to work and we appreciate your time. That was Terri Greene, Director of the CDC talking to us live from inside one of the CDC’s labs in an undisclosed location. As always we want to remind our listeners to stay safe, stay home, stay aw
ay from each other as much as possible, and cover up. Stay tuned for updated information on local supply drops. If you are in need, relief is on the way. In other news…”
It wasn’t a very hopeful interview. Mom flipped the radio off and we all sat in silence. It must’ve been about 20 minutes but after a while the lull of tires beating against the road won me over and I drifted off to sleep briefly. I don’t know how long I was out but I awoke to my mom’s voice sounding urgent.
“Turn around! Turn around!” she was yelling from the passenger seat as she hit my dad’s arm frantically.
The car lurched forward as my dad slammed on the brakes and I was jerked out of my stupor, flying towards the front seat violently as my seatbelt was put to the test. The road was icy and we slid for a minute, coming to rest at an awkward angle in the middle of the highway. Grabbing the back of the driver’s seat and leaning in I quickly took stock of what was happening. About 100 feet in front of us there was a group of pickup trucks blocking the highway and several men with large guns pointed at us. A few of them were running toward us as Dad threw the car into reverse and violently turned it around. The tires slid wildly across the ice, grasping for traction.
“Get down!” he yelled. Just as I ducked behind the seat I heard gunshots blasting through the air and bouncing off the road.
Mom was shouting, “Drive! Drive!”
Mike shoved me even further to the floor as we were both jerked awkwardly around. The tires spun and the jeep finally found its footing as it lunged forward, now pointing in the direction we had just come from. I could hear the men yelling from behind us but couldn’t make out their words. I peeked over the backseat and watched them fade into the distance as we sped off. Mike was doing the same and his eyes were as wide as mine felt. He gave me a “you okay?” face and I nodded.
“I don’t think they’re following us, Dad,” he said.
“Thanks, Mike. Keep an eye out for me, would you?”
Mike nodded, his face calm but pale.
I’d never heard a gunshot before. Not a real one anyway and I was completely freaked out.
“Who was that? What did they want? Why did they shoot at us?” I asked shaken.
My mom whipped around in her seat and shot a panicked face at both of us, her eyes searching us up and down.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt at all?” She grabbed my arm as if touching me would magically heal me should I have been injured in some way.
I shook my head. “No, I’m fine. Mom, what did they want?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they wanted our supplies. Maybe they were trying to protect their town and keep people out. Or maybe they’re just bad men who like scaring and hurting people. I don’t know. All I know is you can’t trust people anymore. It’s not safe outside of our family. Okay? I know it’s scary but that’s how things are now. Stay away from people.”
She was breathing heavily from the adrenaline and her face was serious and intense in a way I’d never seen before. Apparently she could be rattled after all.
I nodded but the reality of our situation hadn’t really sunk in yet. How could it? I was just a dumb teenager, and probably a spoiled one at that. How could I have known the true depravity of human nature?
Dad’s knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel. His always easy-going face was completely tense and it was freaking me out to see him that way.
“Dad, I hate to be a buzz kill. But you’re driving the wrong way on the highway.”
A nervous laugh escaped him and his face started to morph back into its usual carefree expression.
“Thank you, dear. I noticed that too. Don’t worry. I’m getting off and trying some back roads from here. We’re about halfway so this will add another 30 minutes but we’ll be fine. There’s always more than one way to get to where you’re going. Right? We’ll be fine.”
I tried to calm down as I stared out the windows at the barren forests surrounding the highway. In the fall this would have been beautiful. Just three months ago the trees would’ve been an array of oranges, yellows, and reds hugging the road on either side; a gorgeous view that promised cool nights with hot chocolate and campfires. Maybe I could have even tricked myself into thinking we were taking a trip instead of going deeper into hiding. But in the depths of winter it was stark and frigid. Enormous icicles like fingers of the dead hung hauntingly from scraggily limbs. The trees were lifeless and the woods seemed to echo the depression and loss that surrounded everything in our world at that moment. I felt like one of those trees, a once-vibrant thing driven into hiding from the cold threatening to takeover my very soul. With an intentional breath I clouded my window and erased them from sight choosing to stare at the frayed edges of my coat sleeve instead.
The roads Dad followed were clear for the most part. We were definitely in a rural area now and most of the houses were set back from the main roads, barely visible as we passed. Occasionally I would see smoke floating up from someone’s chimney and I longed to be in their place. Secure behind a door with a fire to keep them warm. I felt exhausted but there was no way I was going to sleep again, not after what had just happened. Mike was still turned sideways in his seat, occasionally staring out the back window keeping watch.
I pulled up my phone and tried for the hundredth time to message Nia but the message wouldn’t go through so I turned on my news app out of boredom. I clicked on the latest video report labeled, Breaking News out of Albuquerque: Mass Looting and Hysteria. The video was bouncy at best and showed a group of people kicking a man on the ground. He was covering his head but there were five men attacking him and he didn’t stand a chance. His arms began to fall and he soon lay limp on the concrete as the beating continued. In the background people were running every direction. Some were stumbling out of a store with their arms full and others were sprinting away screaming. It was chaos. The video stopped and a black line appeared across the screen. No service. Streaming had been spotty since the spread began and my patience with the problem had worn way past thin.
“My phone went out,” I said to Mike. “Do you have service?”
He checked and quickly shook his head. “Probably not many cell towers out here.”
I scowled and switched off the power button. Losing the easy access of modern technology had been painful and I wasn’t ready to resign myself to the dark ages just yet.
“Ugh, why does this keep happening?” I whined to no one in particular.
Mom turned around. “Well, the system has been overloaded with the massive amounts of people communicating about the virus. That’s why we haven’t had reliable service at home. But your brother is right about the cell towers. We probably won’t have service at all when we get to the cabin.”
I rolled my eyes and slumped back in my seat annoyed. Stupid viral outbreak.
Mom futilely tried to calm me down. “The power was going off at home too, remember? It might be that there just aren’t enough people anymore working to control where the power is routed. That’s another reason we’re heading out here. We wouldn’t make it at home for very long without power.”
I’d already heard this before so it wasn’t really helping. An indignant, “right,” was all I replied. I never did have much patience for not getting my way.
We were in the car for another hour when we finally reached the back gravel roads that led to the cabin. An enormous sign reading, Middle of Nowhere would have been appropriate but instead it read, Hillsboro. There were neighbors here, we passed at least three mailboxes, but you could go years without having to see one. Everyone respected each other’s property lines and only lost outsiders occasionally wandered through when hunting and hiking. I hadn’t been here for several years but I had such happy memories of the place from when I was a kid. It was a long drive off of the main road which is why the location appealed so much to my parents at that moment. When human contact is turned into a weapon, seclusion becomes a very good thing. Seclusion is what would save our lives. The gravel road
wound around and around, taking at times deep plunges downward then turning into steep upward climbs almost instantly. It was like riding a slow motion roller coaster but with a straight drop on one side into a deep gorge full of trees and fallen branches. The very real possibility of death probably made it a little less fun than a roller coaster.
Marked only by an old metal sign hanging amongst the overgrown branches, soon the turn onto the driveway was in sight. The letters, barely legible now with years of rust and wear, read Sharp’s Shanty. My Grandpa, Garrett Sharp, had made the sign himself almost 50 years ago. We stopped as we passed and removed it, something that pained my father greatly but he said we didn’t want to draw any attention to ourselves. We did our best to cover the entrance to the drive with fallen branches and brush and when we were finished the entrance wasn’t noticeable from the road unless you knew where to find it. Soon the wind and snow would cover our tracks even more and any trace of us would completely vanish into the woods.
The whole area was quite hilly and the driveway, mostly grass and gravel, wound a ways up and down before the cabin would come into sight. It was slow going with the ground still so icy, our jeep slid and jolted uncontrollably for most of it. I didn’t think we’d even make it up the last hill but after a few false starts Dad had it. Once we came over the top the trees quickly broke apart and there perched over the lake with woods on either side, sat the cabin. It was small and quaint but perfect and we all breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of it. All of us except for Dad. I think he had been hoping to see another car there waiting for us; his brother’s. They had been in contact since the beginning of the outbreak but we hadn’t heard from him in the past week which could have meant anything, but likely it meant the worst. Dad was hoping he had come here with my cousins and we would all be together.
Mom reached over and gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “They’re probably just stuck at home. We’ll see them again soon.” She was lying but it sounded convincing enough.
