Red Death: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (11 page)

“Tara, go out in the yard with Mary and dig a couple grave-sized spots in the soft dirt of the garden. I want there to be some indication I buried you two, if they come back to check.”

Tara nodded again, feeling squeamish about the entire conversation.

“Also, go to the rear of the yard, back in the far corner, and dig a pit as deep as you can. Dump the waste in there, and wear masks and gloves. Cover it over each time.”

So far, they had all been using a portable makeshift toilet Tara found in her mom’s camping gear. It was basically a toilet seat on folding aluminum legs where you could attach a garbage bag. Weird but efficient, and luckily, she had stocked up on garbage bags.

“Lee, c’mon, I…” Tara began to protest. Lee cut her off, sounding angry. “Just do it!”

Tara instantly felt bad for causing him more stress. “I will if it makes you feel better.”

Lee nodded and Tara dropped it. An uneasy lump in her throat kept her from saying more, and her mask hid her lips, which were pressed into a grim line.

“I wish I could kiss you,” she told him. He nodded, stoic.

“Just go do what needs to be done.” He paused and stared at her steadily. “I’m not feeling right.”

Panic welled up in Tara’s chest.
Please God, no.
She tried to pacify him, but he waved her off. Taking a different tack, she decided to reassure him another way.

“I’ll be here for you all the way, no matter what.” At this, Lee finally smiled fully at her. “As I would be for you, thank you,” he murmured.

She hoped he could feel her love. “I’ll check on you after we finish the yard.”

She closed his door softly behind her, staying gloved and masked and first covering, then carrying the slop pan with her. She told Mary what Lee asked them to do, and they went out back to begin.

Tara grabbed a jug of bleach to leave outside for sterilizing.

First, they dug a deep pit for the slops and Tara poured them in, shoveling dirt back in over them. Then they each took a “grave,” digging down several inches and humping up the dirt over two 6x3 foot rectangles. Tara stared at them with satisfaction, thinking they would fool anyone if you didn’t look too closely. A little chill passed through her as she hoped that faking their deaths didn’t jinx them or somehow invite the real thing.

Tara was still gloved, masked, and carrying Lee’s empty slop pan. She stopped beside the back steps to pour bleach in and slosh it around. The women returned to the house exhausted. Tara took the pan back to Lee’s room, and found him fast asleep. Tara replaced the container in the potty chair and left, stripping off the gloves and mask, tying them up in a garbage bag they kept for contaminated items, and taking it outside. She rubbed disinfectant on her hands and headed back inside to mix up some ORS. She carried up boiled water from the basement that Mary had set aside to cool. She added a baggie of ORS salts to an empty water jug, shaking it up to mix it. She had a bad feeling now, and believed they would need it.

Tara went to bed that night tired, but unable to sleep. She stared at the ceiling for a long time, wondering what tomorrow would bring.

~

Both women woke at nearly the same time, and Tara’s mind took right up where it had left off.

“Mary, how in God’s name are we going to do everything that needs done? We need to go see Clyde, ask him if he can find out what other camps around the country are doing, just to see if ours is different. Then we need to search out the resistance and ask if they will help break Julie out of there. And if Lee gets sick…” she drifted off, unable to even complete the thought. “Not to mention we need to forage for food—we only have enough for another day or so.”

“One thing at a time, Tara, that’s all we can do. At least Julie has hope now, and she and Ben have survived the worst. I am beyond relieved knowing just that much.”

“We have a little bit of crabapple bread left for breakfast. I’m going to take a piece up to Lee and check on him.”

“I think I’m going to make pumpkin bread next.”

“Sounds great, Mary.”  Tara took Lee’s plate up to his room, listening for any sounds from inside. She set the tray down, put on gloves and mask, and opened the door, leaning back out for the tray. Lee heard her and stirred, sitting up in bed. She glanced at him as he rubbed his face with both hands, and groaned a little. Tara set the tray down and turned to him.

“Hi there, how you doing?”  Lee turned to face her, blinking.
His eyes are red. Like Marla’s were.

“I don’t feel good, Tara.” He stared at her, the whites of his eyes bloody. He held his hand up toward the tray. “I don’t want any. My throat’s sore.”

Tara’s heart sank. “You’ve got to eat, Lee.” He just looked at her, obviously sick.

“I’ll leave it here. I’m bringing up the hydrate solution. You need to drink a gallon a day if you start throwing up.” Lee nodded. “I know. I just want to sleep right now.”

“I love you, just rest.” Tara left him then, despair welling within her. The last time she had felt this way was when their son died. Tara could not focus and made her way to the living room. She sat alone in the big easy chair, imagining a world without Lee. She couldn’t. Mary came up from the basement, calling her name. “In here,” Tara answered.

“The pumpkin is boiling. I have to cook it for about an hour first to use it in the batter.” Mary took one look at Tara’s face and sat down, alarmed. She stared at Tara, waiting.

“He’s sick, Mary. His eyes are red now and he’s got a sore throat.”

“Oh God.”  They both sat there quietly for a long time. There was nothing left to say.

Chapter 11

Tara stared unseeing into the fireplace.
He’s going to die.

Mary sat for a few moments, obviously working something through. Finally, she cleared her throat. She started to speak then hesitated and began again.

“Either one of us could get this at any time now, Tara. And to be honest, one or both of us probably will. I have an idea, hear me out.” Mary glanced at Tara and paused, biting her lip.

“Before it takes us both, I want to get Julie and Ben out of the camp. In case you think I’m being totally selfish, there’s something there that Julie’s nurse friend could get for us—plasma. Plasma has the antibodies Lee needs to survive this.”

Tara sat still for a moment, absorbing this. It made perfect sense. “You’re right, Mary. We need to do something before we catch it too. This might actually work!”

“Let me take over Lee’s nursing. I want you to go do what should be done. We’ll need tubing and needles to give a transfusion. And if you can’t get plasma, maybe we could use Julie’s blood to give to Lee, but that’s not easy without the right equipment.” Mary paused for a moment. “It’s December twenty-third. Let’s get them home for Christmas, Tara. God willing, Lee will get the best present he’s ever had.”

Tara leaned forward in her chair, her mind working again, forming plans. “Julie is already waiting on us to do something. Maybe we need to make it happen now. If I go soon, I can stop to see Clyde, find out what info he’s gotten from other parts of the country. By then it will be dark, and I could take the tracks to find the Resistance.” Tara made up her mind instantly. “I’m going. Now.” She stared hard at Mary. “Please be careful with Lee. Use a gown, gloves and masks.”

“I’m a nurse, remember?” Mary smiled. Tara jumped up and began gathering what she would need. She decided not to take the gun. Who knows what might happen, and Mary might need it to protect them there. Besides, she knew the Resistance was armed to the teeth. She put the last little bit of celebration stew in her backpack for Clyde.
This is our only chance. I can’t blow it. Lee’s survival probably depends on it; maybe ours does too.

Tara went back upstairs, suited up, and entered Lee’s room. She stood by his bed staring down at him as he slept, with her heart full of love. She wasn’t about to let him go without a fight. She gently touched his shoulder and he stirred. He turned onto his back, opening his eyes and smiling slightly when he saw it was her. It was extremely macabre and unsettling looking into his blood-red eyes. Tara tried not to show her dismay.

“I’m going to get Julie out of the camp, Lee. I’m going to get some plasma for you. You are going to be okay, Sweetheart.” Lee nodded and closed his eyes. Normally, he would have protested the danger. Tara’s eyes filled with tears.

~

Tara’s Diary

Dec 23, 2015

I’m leaving now. I don’t know if I’ll make it back. Lee is sick, and I’m going to the camp to try to get Mary’s daughter out. I have to get some survivor’s blood. It’s the only thing that might save Lee. If Kevin and the Resistance won’t help me, I’ll get bolt cutters and try it on my own. It just can’t get any worse here. If I lose Lee, I’m done. I don’t even want to live. The world has gone to hell in a handcart. Merry F’ing Christmas to me. If there really is someone up there watching over us all, please help me now.

~

Tara adjusted the backpack on her shoulders as she turned to look back at Mary standing on the porch. Mary lifted one hand in farewell. Tara was determined to do what needed done, both for Mary’s daughter and for Lee. The late afternoon winter sun shone weakly down, too faint to shed any warmth. It was cold, in the upper thirties. Tara knew it would be much colder as soon as the sun went down. She pulled her hat down over her ears, and the wool scarf up around her neck to meet it, puffs of frosty breath wreathing her head.

Tara headed to the edge of town and down the alley where Clyde lived. As she passed skeletal trees and gardens, she kept her eyes open for forage food. An unnoticed crabapple tree caught her eye, as well as a couple of shriveled tomatoes from an abandoned garden. As she passed the nut trees that had been so bountiful earlier, she found a few more scattered on the frozen ground and stuffed them in her backpack. She looked around at the desolation of winter, at the barren empty feel of unoccupied houses, and was sad.
Oh, brave new world…

Tara remembered Clyde’s celebration stew. He would be happy at her gift. She unhooked her backpack and brought out the Tupperware as she approached his back door. She opened the screen and pounded several times, hard enough so he would hear it. A few moments later, the old man’s face appeared at the window, beaming at the sight of her.

“My friend! So good to see you!” he called as he swung the door open. Tara hugged him, unable to help but feel his bony back under her gloves.

“Clyde, I brought you a little bit of stew we had for lunch.” His eyes lit up.

“Oh my, thank you! What a treat.” He took the container from her with feeble hands. They looked as though they were made of tendons with skin stretched over, no flesh on them at all. Tara’s heart hurt just seeing them.

“Why don’t you heat it up, Clyde? I’ve already eaten. I’ll sit and visit with you. I have a few questions too, if you don’t mind.”

Clyde seemed excited at the prospect of food, and Tara followed him in to his sparsely furnished kitchen. He had a tabletop grill set up on the counter that used bottled gas.

“Hey, that’s nice,” remarked Tara.

“It sure has come in handy!” the old man laughed. He turned on the small propane tank and struck a match to light it. He emptied the stew into a little pan and smacked his lips in anticipation. Tara smiled.

“Did you get the crabapple bread we left you?”

“Oh, my land, yes, and it was so good!” he chuckled. “So kind of you to think of me.”

“Clyde, I figure we will all eat or starve together.” Tara said ruefully. He laughed, stirring the contents of the pot. The smell of celebration stew wafted over to her.

Tara decided it was time to get serious. “Clyde, what are you hearing about conditions elsewhere? I need to know if our local camp is being run differently than other sites.” Tara explained about the resistance and about what they had told her, as well as her plan to try to contact them that night to attempt a rescue of Mary’s daughter and grandson.

Clyde ladled the hot stew into a small brown bowl and pulled out a chair to sit.

“My friends across the country are saying their camps are run by military, very regimented. They’re separated into buildings for the sick and barracks for the recovering, all very orderly and such.”

“That doesn’t sound much like ours, does it? Are they burning bodies at the others?”

“Good Lord, I don’t rightly know. But come to think of it, my friend in Phoenix said their camp had a crematory running day and night.”

“Our local camp is tossing them on a bonfire.”

Clyde’s face fell. “That don’t hardly seem dignified,” he said, frowning. He paused for a moment. “Kind of sounds like the Nazis, don’t it?” He chewed thoughtfully, savoring his mouthful of stew. 

“My thoughts exactly. I’m not sure what we can do about it, but you might want to put that info out there. Maybe someone will have an idea on how to stop it.”

“I’ll do that as soon as I finish lunch.”

“Okay, Clyde, I’m heading out. It’s almost dark.”

He thanked her for the food and she gave him a final hug. Tara decided to tell him about Lee. “My husband is sick now. They’re going door to door, forcing vaccinations on people. He took one. Try to avoid one, Clyde. I’m afraid it’s giving Ebola to more people than preventing it.”

“When the good Lord decides to take me, I’m ready, and by whichever means he plans,” Clyde answered. Tara nodded, loving the old man’s calm stoicism. She guessed maybe in your nineties, you
were
ready.

“Please be careful,” Clyde said, “I don’t want to lose my only friend.”

Her eyes misted a little at this, and she gave him a small smile. “I will.” She had turned away when a thought struck her. “Clyde, do you have bolt cutters I could borrow?” The old man nodded. “If the Resistance won’t help me, I’ll be back for them.” She said goodbye and left him to finish his meal.

Tara started up the alley, taking the country road toward the tracks that led to the old factory. She walked slowly, giving it time to get fully dark. The gray plume of smoke still rising behind her permeated the crisp night air with the strange stench of the bonfire. She knew now what that smell was.

Tara stepped quietly between the rails of the tracks, walking on the weathered gray boards. Trees leaned in on each side, their bare branches making a faint sound as they rubbed together in the slight wind. It was really quite intimidating—it felt like walking into a trap.

She glanced right and left, watching for any telltale movement that might give away the hidden sentinels of the Resistance. But there were no signs of them at all.
They sure have this down.

Tara walked on until she was deep into the woods. The branches creaked overhead, and thick, brown, waist-high scrub brush covered the banks on each side of the tracks.  Anyone there was well hidden. She gave a tentative long low whistle, watching and listening for an answer. Nothing. She did it again. Off to her right a rustling sound began, and then a returned whistle. The silhouettes of two dark heads popped above the brush and began moving in her direction.

She didn’t recognize the young men walking toward her. Tara raised both hands to let them know she wasn’t armed. “I’m looking for my friend Kevin, he invited me to come.”

“Follow us,” the young man told her. One walked ahead of her on the tracks, one behind. The factory came into view and it was as huge as Tara remembered. A tower—a perfect crows-nest—four or five stories high, stuck up above the sprawling rusted metal complex. The men led her inside a chain link fence where two more guards were stationed, rifles slung over shoulders. They entered the building through an overhead door and just inside it, a table with supplies sat.

“We require all new visitors to wear gloves and mask.” Tara nodded, putting them on. The men led her down a corridor that twisted and turned like a maze.
I would never find my way out.

Finally, they came to an office where one of the guards knocked twice. Her old high school friend Kevin opened the door.

“Are you here to stay? Where’s your lady friend and your husband?” Kevin held the door for her, and she walked into a large room ringed with chairs.  A handful of men and women sat staring at her, and Tara raised one hand in acknowledgement.

“I’m Tara. Maybe Kevin told you we talked?” There was a long pause, long enough for Tara to experience a sinking feeling and regret coming. Then an older man sitting behind the lone desk spoke.

“Welcome, always glad to see another survivor.” A chorus of echoes followed his words and Tara relaxed. A woman about her age approached her with a smile. “I’m Beth, and yes, Kevin did tell us about you and your friend.”

Kevin asked what brought her there.

“When we got home after talking to you, Kevin, they had already come and given my husband Lee a vaccination. He’s getting sick.” The intake of breath around the room made Tara readjust her mask to make sure it was tight.

“We’ve taken precautions so far, but Mary and I decided we need to try to get her daughter and grandson out of the camp. Just in case, we get sick. And I’m hoping to get some plasma at the same time. Mary’s a nurse and can do the procedure on my husband.”

Tara explained how Julie’s fluke cell phone call described the outdoor exercise pen surrounded by chain link fence. “They are going to be out there at ten each night. That’s when the guards change shifts and security is lax.” Tara waited to see if everyone understood and offered help before she had to ask for it. If they did understand, no one let on.

She cleared her throat, adjusting the mask on the bridge of her nose again. “I need to know if you would help me get them out. Bolt cutters should do it. Julie’s nurse friend will be aware of the plan. I’m going to ask if she can grab me some tubing and needles too.”

The silence in the room was deafening. The older man at the desk leaned back, chair squeaking, and sucked at a tooth. “Why should we help you and risk ourselves?”

Tara didn’t know what to say. She narrowed her eyes, thinking fast.
What’s the best leverage I can buy us?
It came to her in a flash.

“Julie is a nurse, and so is her mother, Mary. Between the two of them, you’ve got expertise for every medical emergency from injury to childbirth. And Julie has something really special now. She’s survived the virus. A transfusion from her will likely save anyone who gets Ebola.”

Tara waited as several of them glanced back and forth. Finally the man spoke. “You’re right. We don’t have a nurse among us. It would be a valuable resource.” He looked at the woman Beth, obviously his partner, and back at Tara. “We can help each other.”

Tara nodded, trying not to let them see her shaking.

“When do you want to set this up?”