Unknown

by Wendy Higgins

  I turned the car off in the driveway. His words reverberated through me. Each time I listened to him I felt that lively spark of hope, but there was always a feeling of doom, as well. As if we had a whole hell of a lot of bad to overcome before we would reach the good.

  To be honest, I didn’t feel like going to work the next morning. It was strange not having a set schedule, or a check-in clock. I didn’t know if I’d be paid for any of this work now that the hospital was demolished. Would I contact the state with my hours? It was kind of a ridiculous worry since I wouldn’t be able to access my auto-deposit funds anyhow. Money didn’t seem to be of value anymore.

  I knew I would keep working, paid or not, because the guilt would eat me alive if I didn’t. Even yesterday had felt wrong staying home all day. But I felt better today, so I dragged my butt out of bed and ate my egg and salsa breakfast burrito. Then I savored the French press coffee with sugar. The only thing that could have made the morning better was a hot shower. I had to settle for leaning over the sink and letting Mom pour a cup at a time of cool water over my hair as I washed with a tiny amount of shampoo. I didn’t want to make too much foam to have to rinse out. It did the trick, and I felt clean.

  I returned the favor and helped her wash her hair in the sink, too. When we finished, I found Rylen and Livia sitting on the couch talking to Dad. The couple sat close, holding hands. When Rylen saw me standing there with a towel on my head, he gave a smile and let go of Livia’s hand, rubbing his palms down his thighs. She gave him a quizzical look and glanced at me. I walked to my bedroom to brush my hair, experiencing that weird residual sadness and awkwardness.

  When I came back out, Dad asked in a stern voice, “What’s this about some guy trying to get in the house yesterday, Amber?”

  My head flew to Rylen, but his face remained unfazed under my glare.

  The traitor. Although, I guess my family should be on the lookout. I sighed and told them the story.

  “You didn’t think this was important for us to know?” Dad asked.

  I looked down at the rug. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you, but I didn’t want everyone worrying.”

  Grandpa Tate stopped rocking. “You shoulda kicked him square in the family jewels, Amby.”

  Oh, my gosh. Rylen half grinned and Mom covered her mouth.

  “What is this family jewels?” Abuela asked. She was wiping her hands on a rag.

  “It’s a man’s . . .” I motioned to my crotch.

  She nodded emphatically. “Ah, yes. This is good to . . .” She struggled to find the word “kick,” and instead lifted her flexed foot in the air.

  Now everyone laughed. Abuela continued to look serious. She was accustomed to us laughing at her expense now and then. Amidst it all, I could feel Livia watching me, and I avoided eye contact. I didn’t want to examine whatever weirdness was between us.

  “How’s your dad this morning?” I asked Rylen.

  “Still worn out, but better. Even got up to relieve himself outside. Too stubborn to die.” I heard pride in his voice and I smiled.

  “That’s wonderful,” Mom said. She looked over at me. “Rylen brought some gasoline to refill my car so you can get to work.”

  “Thank you,” I told him. I definitely didn’t want to end up walking down the highway. “I guess I’d better get going.” I went to my room to finish getting ready. I pulled my hair up in a high ponytail and dug through my clothes. My primary work clothes and scrubs were all dirty, so I put on some comfortable jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. It wasn’t exactly cold, but I was a wimpy desert girl who liked her sunshine. Sixty-five degrees was chilly to me. I dug my medic pin out of my jewelry box and put it on.

  Unfamiliar feminine laughter greeted me as I left my room, and I noticed Livia and Abuela working in the kitchen together, both smiling and chatting in Spanish. Livia was really pretty when she was happy. I watched them working together for a moment, boiling water and organizing pots on the counter. They made a good team. I couldn’t bring myself to be jealous of their seeming closeness, because it was nice to see Liv and Ry not clinging to one another. Was Livia close to her own grandmother? Was she missing her? If I weren’t so consumed by bitchiness, those would be the kinds of questions I’d ask. A heavy sigh heaved from my chest.

  Time to get to work.

  In the living room, I kissed my parents good-bye and gave Rylen a wave. He examined me, as if wondering why I hadn’t come over to hug him, but it felt wrong with the way Livia kept studying me like she knew my thoughts. I quickly looked away. Grandpa must have gone up to his room because his rocker was empty. When I got outside to the car, he was coming down his stairs, using caution with each step. He had something under his arm.

  “One sec, Amby.”

  Grandpa walked toward me and I noticed the handle of a gun. He motioned for me to get in the car. I slid in and he crouched in the open doorway, knees cracking. Grandpa set the small handgun on my lap. It was a 380 pistol that I’d never seen before. I would have remembered that deep cherry panel on the handle. It was pretty. His eyes darted up to the house before he spoke.

  “This was your grandmother’s. I want you to have it.”

  “Really?” I ran a finger over the slick handle.

  “I wanted to give it to you when you first started your job, but when I asked permission, your mother said no. I understand her feelings, but I’m overriding her now. You need to be protected out there. Let’s just . . . keep this between us.”

  Grandpa was afraid of Mom’s wrath, and I couldn’t blame him. She had never been comfortable with the fact that Dad took me and the boys to shoot. I’d handled many guns, and while I wasn’t afraid like Mom was, I had never felt the need to own one. Now, though, I felt very grateful for his offering.

  “Thank you, Grandpa.” I kissed his sun-spotted forehead. “It’ll be our secret.”

  “Good. This’ll help me sleep at night when you’re gone.”

  He took it from the case and showed me how to eject the magazine and turn the safety off, and rack the slide. When he was secure that I understood the workings of it, he patted my hand and stood. He dug a box of bullets from his pocket, and I put everything in my purse. Grandpa watched me pull away and drive down the street. When I got to the end of the drive, I remembered what Mom had said about the local clinic being understaffed yesterday. I was used to driving almost forty-five minutes into the next county to work. But that was taking a lot of gas. On a whim, I turned the opposite direction and headed to our local clinic. I wanted to check on their staffing, just in case.

  And it’s a good thing I did. There was a line out the door, and I was horrified to see most of them had Red Virus. Apparently, sixty percent of their nursing staff had stopped coming to work after the earthquake, because they had children and no childcare with the schools being out. At the front desk was a DRI woman who looked like she belonged on one of those super-rich-housewives shows. She let me in after asking who I was and if I’d been vaccinated.

  I found Dr. Persus, our ancient family physician, in his stagnant exam room finishing up with a patient. The fevered woman was led out by her non-spotted husband. Dr. Persus gave me a heavy, burdened look when they were gone.

  “Can I help you here?” I asked.

  “I don’t know how I’ll pay you, Amber.” The man had given me all of my shots growing up. He’d been old then. I was willing to bet he was regretting not retiring years ago when he probably should have.

  “Don’t worry about that,” I told him.

  He patted my shoulder, a soft touch. “I wish I could have hired you last year when you came to me.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. I thought about the two ambulances on the side of the clinic. “Are your EMTs here?”

  “No . . .” His eyes fell. “They were in Clark County at that hospital that was bombed.

  My insides twisted. “I’m sorry. I was there too, and I’m lucky to have survived. Look, I can do anything you need, okay?”

 
; He leaned against the bed. “I don’t know what to do. I just keep sending them home. Telling them to rest, but we both know what will happen. At this point I just want people to die somewhere other than here.”

  I knew he said it out of weariness, not meanness, but ouch.

  “I know of one survivor. Lenard Fite. He had it and now he’s healing.”

  The doctor chuckled. “Why does that not surprise me?”

  I grinned. Yeah. “Have you had anyone show up with severe abdominal pains? Vomiting?”

  “Yes. Low fever. Seems to go away after a few hours?”

  “Yes! Both my best friend and I experienced that after getting the vaccine.”

  He nodded. “Could be a side effect for some. Strange, though. Let me know if you feel anything else unusual.”

  “I will. Put me to work, doc. I’ll do anything.”

  “Anything?”

  I should have thought twice about that offer.

  Even with bio boots strapped over my sneakers, heavy duty gloves, and a medical mask, I was not comfortable moving dead bodies, even when they were in body bags. At least I couldn’t see their faces. I was sure to know some of them. I would check out Dr. Persus’s list of deceased later, but for now I was glad not to see. A male nurse and I worked together to haul the bodies into the back of an open ambulance. Thankfully, he was young and strong. He looked like a giant redneck in blue scrubs, all scruffy. We had twenty-three bodies and could only fit ten at a time. We were to take them to the county morgue and retrieve more body bags from them.

  The male nurse was quiet, but worked hard. He looked about the same age as me, but he must have gone to our rival high school because I didn’t recognize him.

  “What’s your name?” I asked when we shut the doors and pulled down our masks.

  “David Wyatt.” He held out a beefy hand and I shook it.

  “Amber Tate. You wanna drive this over or stay here?”

  “I’ll take it,” he told me. I saw him off and then went back to the clinic. I left my boots and gloves outside. I instinctively started walking toward a sink to wash up, then remembered I couldn’t. In the medical profession it’s drilled into you head to wash your hands frequently. Now the best we could do was use a squirt of antibacterial gel between patients, which wasn’t quite as effective. I felt germy all the time.

  It was a long day, and even more depressing than working in Clark County, if possible. I knew most of these people, or I knew their kids or grandkids. Hearing all of the stories happening right here in my hometown, and how many had died or been arrested, hit me hard.

  When I drove home that night, the number of abandoned cars on the side of the road in the dark was alarming. Even more alarming were random people trying to hitch rides, or just standing outside of their houses, looking around like they needed something.

  Food and water, to begin with. How much longer could the town live this way?

  It was ten at night when I walked into the house, and I was surprised to find my entire family awake in the living room, candles lit on various surfaces. Their faces were pinched with worry.

  “What’s going on?” I locked the door behind me and set my stuff down.

  Mom held up a paper. “There’s a town meeting tomorrow at the high school. Every person is required to go, by law.”

  “Okay,” I said. That wasn’t such a bad thing, was it? Maybe we’d finally find out when electricity would be back on. “So, what’s the problem?”

  Dad let out an unamused huff of laughter as Grandpa shook his head, arms tightly crossed. “They’ve discovered an infiltrator cell in our county.”

  A drip of melting ice slid down my spine. “What?”

  “Yep.” Dad’s face was deadly. “Right here in Lincoln. I’m going to see about joining the local force tomorrow to help sniff them out since my office is shut down for now. I’m tired of sitting around.”

  I moved across the room and slid into the spot next to Mom. Were some of the people responsible for all the bombings and biological warfare really hiding in our county? We did have some mountains and miles of abandoned fields. It was possible. But this was a family-oriented place, and I couldn’t come to terms with that kind of hatred being so close to home.

  “What time is the meeting?” I asked.

  “Six o’clock at night.” Mom took my hand and rubbed my arm. “They’re asking everyone who has spare nonperishable items to bring them for the food bank.”

  Grandpa grunted. “In times like this it should be to-each-his-own.”

  “To be fair,” Mom said, “if it weren’t for you, we’d be one of those families needing the food bank. We can afford to share a little.”

  Grandpa grunted again. “Just don’t let ’em know what we’ve got. They’ll be over here trying to take it all. If they were smart they’d set up some sort of trading market.”

  “Don’t worry, Pop,” my father said. “Nobody’s saying anything. And we’ll get some answers tomorrow about when they’re gonna get this town up and running again.”

  “That’s right,” Mom murmured. She kissed the side of my head. “Try to get some rest, princesa.”

  I tried. I really did. God knows I was exhausted, but my subconscious was an evil villain. I woke, heart-pounding, over and over, as ceilings caved in on me, babies covered in spots were tossed into my arms, and friendly-seeming neighbors morphed into throat-tearing monsters. I must have had three anxiety attacks during the night. The signs of PTSD were clear after nearly dying in the hospital bombings and seeing so much death. Half of America probably suffered from PTSD now.

  I lay back in the dark and closed my eyes, concentrating on my breathing. A vision wiggled its way into my mind like a serpent—Rylen moving on top of Livia—making me flop over onto my stomach and press my face into the pillow. None of those horrible dreams had brought tears to my eyes, but that vision had done it, the way he’d been staring down into her eyes, all passion and intensity. I cried as quietly as I could, heaving deep breaths, until sleep finally took me.

  More Red Virus victims. More death. More bodies.

  I couldn’t believe the number of people in Lincoln County who contracted the virus. Even with all the vaccines being given daily. There were also an alarming number of young women who had the same side effects I did. It hurt just to watch them writhing in pain. I was glad when five thirty rolled around and the clinic shut down so everyone could attend the town meeting.

  I met my family and the three Fites in the parking lot. After my inappropriate visions last night, I avoided eye contact with Rylen and Livia. But, as always, I felt his presence like a heated lamp pointed right at me. We waited in a long line to get in as Disaster Relief Initiative personnel checked people off a list. A tense, expectant atmosphere blanketed the line of people. Our family was uncharacteristically quiet. Mom held two cans of tuna, which made me realize how hungry I was.

  I felt knuckles bump my arm and I looked over at Rylen holding a fruit and nut bar out to me. “Hungry?”

  Beside him, Livia stared straight ahead at the line.

  “Thank you.” I took it and immediately tore it open.

  Abuela handed me a to-go cup. “Juice,” she said. “I squeeze.”

  My mouth watered. “Orange juice?”

  Mom smiled. “We had some ripen on our tree. We wanted you to have the first cup.”

  Geez, that made me emotional. “I feel bad. Can we share it?”

  “Well, we already took sips,” Mom said with a wink. “To make sure it was okay.”

  I laughed and took a drink—it started tart but then got sweet. I downed it all and ate the bar. And though it did the trick, I couldn’t help but wish I’d had a giant burger with fries.

  Len began coughing. He’d stood a ways away from all of us, and I’d forgotten he was there. He did not look well enough to be standing like this, and his breaths were wheezy. He wore long sleeves, but there were dried, dark scabs on his hands, neck, and face from the spots. I wanted to tell h
im to wait in the car and we’d get him when it was time, but I knew his pride wouldn’t allow it.

  At the entrance there was a sign that read: No Red Virus Infected Persons Permitted. I wondered if they’d give Len a hard time, but they didn’t. He was too much on the mend. We answered a million questions. Other families with children were having their kids ushered off to a nursery and kid-zone. The meeting was for anyone over twelve. We filed into the gymnasium, which was already packed. Every seat in the bleachers was filled, and the floor was lined with rows of chairs in every available space. Since we were in the back of the line, we made sure Len, Grandpa, and Abuela had seats, and the rest of us stood along the back wall. A small platform had been erected at the other end under the school’s giant mascot mural. I peered around until I spotted Remy and her parents in the stands. She looked well, if not bored. She found me too, and we both waved.

  The room was hot and stuffy with all the people and no air circulation. It felt like forever before three DRI personnel came onto the stage. When the room quieted, I could make out the hum of generators that kept the emergency lights burning. A giant screen was pulled down on the wall behind them. I guess they were going to show a video?

  Beside me I felt Rylen’s elbow, and I followed his gaze toward the doors of the gymnasium where six police officers stood with gigantic guns. On his other side, Livia noticed them too and moved closer to him, as if afraid. He immediately took her hand.

  “Since when do our cops carry assault rifles?” he muttered from the corner of his mouth. I shook my head. I guess since enemy cells were supposedly found in our midst. I elbowed Dad for him to see. He narrowed his eyes and looked around at all of the exits, each flanked with heavily-armed officers.

  “I don’t recognize any of them,” he said quietly. I didn’t either. And they weren’t any kind of police uniform I’d ever seen. They looked like some sort of fancy flame-retardant material. Where was our hometown force?