Red Death: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (15 page)

“All these barracks are supposed to be for different stages of virus—survivors, new cases, yellow donors, red donors. Sometimes, someone is mixed up and puts the wrong one in with the wrong group. There’s not exactly any reason for good quality control here.”

“Oh, my God.” It was all Tara could say. She frantically adjusted her facemask, making sure it was tight. “But people who don’t have it will catch it!” Tara was angry at this situation for a brief moment, until Julie laughed. Then she remembered the truth of this place.

“It doesn’t matter. Everyone gets the virus. They die, or they live; it’s all the same to them. That’s the plan. It’s our purpose, so it doesn’t matter. It’s our existence here. They are God.”

Tara had a moment where she couldn’t breathe—knowing the virus particles were in the air, being confronted in a very big way by the reality of this place, it was too much. She couldn’t eat. Julie noticed her sitting there staring into her bowl as she and Ben slurped the thick soup.

“Tara, eat. You have to. It’s all we get, once a day.” Tara pulled down her mask, lifted her spoon and numbly took a bite. It wasn’t bad. Full of vegetables and starches, it had both potatoes and rice, made of beef stock, but with very little meat. After what Tara had been eating for the past months, it was acceptable, even good. That is, if it weren’t for the puddle of blood and vomit on the other side of the room. She looked over and three workers in hazmat suits were now cleaning up the mess, but that wasn’t much consolation. Just then, a shuffling resident in the line slipped in the puke and fell. Tara couldn’t watch any longer.

Tara lifted the spoon to her lips over and over, lost in a strange sort of disassociation. She didn’t really taste the soup after that first bite, didn’t feel it hitting her stomach and quelling the hunger there. She didn’t even feel the hunger that had been an ever-present friend for months. Nothing seemed real. She began to come back to the present as the trauma faded a bit, and she recognized this feeling was probably shock. Julie made a noise and Tara looked up.

“There’s Mel,” she said, inclining her head in the direction of the door. A plump, dark-haired older woman had entered the room and was making her way among the picnic tables, asking questions and speaking with those eating.

“Every single day, each time I see her, I’m surprised she hasn’t disappeared. She has too much compassion for this place. But I think they know they need her, for that very reason. Sort of the “public face” of this place,” Julie said, making the quotation marks with her fingers. “But if they only knew the sordid details of how she’s helped so many of us, it might not go too well for her. She’d vanish too, straight to the bonfire. She truly cares about us all.”

Tara watched as the nurse moved down the line of tables with a clipboard, stopping once or twice to prick a finger and smear the drop of blood onto a card. She notated each wrist with a magic marker, and then wrote the blood type on her list beside their name.

“Later on, they give you a tattoo of your type. They can’t have some billionaire getting sick from the wrong bag of plasma.” Julie pushed up her sleeve and showed Tara the “A” permanently stamped on the inside of her wrist. She held up Ben’s for her to see too. The boy went back to eating his soup.

“Why did they put me in with you survivors?”

“Maybe they thought you’d survived it. Even if you hadn’t, they know you’ll catch it sooner or later, like we did. Then someone decides whether you’ll be given the cure, or left to become a human petri dish. Luckily for us, Mel decided our fates.” She sighed. “Sometimes, I’m not so sure if we were lucky.” Tara understood. This was not living. More like barely surviving.

“But if we get out soon, it was all worth it.” Julie smiled at her, and Tara felt guilty for lying about their chances. This poor woman and her frail little boy deserved better.

Melanie, the nurse, started down their aisle, smiling widely when she spotted Julie and Ben. “My favorite patients,” she called out. Ben had just finished his soup and hugged the woman around the waist. She ruffled his hair and looked at Tara curiously.

“This is my friend Tara,” Julie told the woman, “and I have a favor to ask.”

“Are you the woman caught outside the fence?” The suddenly serious expression on the nurse’s face scared Tara, and she nodded meekly.

“I heard what happened to your friend. I’m afraid he told them everything—about the Resistance, but he obviously did not implicate you. Otherwise, you would not be here right now.”

Cold fear surged up inside Tara, tinged with gratitude for Kevin’s selflessness, which brought relief so sharp and sudden that she thought she might pass out.

“They may try to rescue us soon, I’m not sure,” Tara told her. Julie and her mother are both nurses, and they need that badly, but my husband is at home, very sick now.”

Melanie looked at Julie, and she nodded, confirming Tara’s story. “We need plasma, Mel, and tubing and needles for a transfusion, type O. I want to be ready if they come. I don’t want to tell you any more. That way, if you don’t know, they can’t get it out of you.”

Melanie nodded, stroking Ben’s hair. “I want to see him out of here. You too, of course, but this is no place for a child.” Her eyes softened as she smiled at Julie and then Tara. “Yes, I’ll help. I’ll be over later today. I will type your blood, Tara, and slip you what you need. Please be sure not to get caught with it. I hope they come for you,” she said, sincerity in her voice.

“Thank you, Mel, so much. I can never repay you for all you’ve done,” Julie told her.

The nurse shook her head. “No, I can never do enough. I’ve been a part of this abomination. I will carry it with me for the rest of my days. I hope they come for you soon.”

Tara understood her feelings. Melanie moved on to the next table after giving Ben one last pat and a tilt of the head to Tara.

They finished their meal and headed back to their barracks. Tara widely skirted the spot where the man had thrown up blood, while holding her facemask tightly to her mouth.

As the afternoon wore on, Tara sang some Christmas carols to Ben, telling him what Santa Claus would probably bring him once he was out of this place. They waited on edge until they finally saw the figure of Melanie coming toward them. She carried her usual basket full of blood typing supplies. With her back to the entrance effectively concealing her movements, she pricked Tara’s finger, and drew an “O” inside her wrist, then wrote the results on the clipboard. Then she reached into the basket and removed two square, frozen plastic bags of plasma, some tubing and a couple needles, setting them on the cot and pulling Julie’s blanket over them.

“Merry Christmas,” Melanie told them. “They’re having a company party up front. Now might be a good time to hide this.” With a wink and a smile, she turned to go, but seemed to remember something and came back.

“They’re ramping up production. Three thousand people just arrived, and three thousand more are coming. Literally almost all the survivors left in the state.” Melanie paused, as Tara remembered the eyes peering out through slats on passing trucks. A dawning horror crept into her soul. She was afraid to know more, but had to know. “Why?”

“All of them will get the “vaccinations,” but this time, half are going to be incubators for the virus. One half will be allowed to live to become donors. If the Resistance does come for you, please tell them this. Tell them that three thousand innocent people are about to die within a week—all because one evil man wants to be a billionaire.”

Melanie walked away, leaving Tara and Julie staring into one another’s eyes. A tear slid down Julie’s face, but she said nothing. Tara put her head in her hands and prayed for a miracle.

When she was done, she walked to the door of the exercise pen and looked out. It was Christmas Eve. She missed Lee so badly, her heart hurt.

The snow fell pristine and white, covering the dark ground all around the camp. Tara wished it could somehow cover the heart of darkness that beat at the center of this awful place.

Chapter 15

With a sigh and forced optimism, Tara began to move. “C’mon, Julie, you heard the woman. Let’s hide this stuff.” Tara glanced around to make sure it was clear, then bundled the items inside her coat. Julie arranged the blanket around Ben who was again sleeping soundly. They exited onto the pavement of the exercise pen, Tara again scanning the surrounding area to be sure no one was watching.

She walked to the corner of the pen closest to the building, intent on inspecting the fence and exactly how it attached to the blocks. As soon as she saw the steel post standing alongside the cement, her excitement rose. Sure enough, there was a gap of about an inch or so, big enough to push the tubing and needles in their plastic bags through, followed by the frozen envelopes of plasma.

The stiff plasma leaned against the concrete wall, making a sort of lean-to shape and hiding the needles and tubing below it. Snowflakes immediately began to accumulate on top, covering it nicely. Tara knew it would soon be quite inconspicuous, looking just like any other section of the wall.

Bonus. So far so good, we need all the luck we can get.
She backed away, wishing she felt better about the resistance rescuing them. However, Tara didn’t think any amount of luck would help them there. The plasma might be good until spring thaw, but unless she could get out, it would be useless. Lee needed it soon or he would be dead.

Julie was huddled on the bench, watching people leaving the rows of barracks beyond the bonfire. Tara sat down beside her, her joints already stiff with cold. Tara too began to stare at the slowly moving figures joining the line that snaked into the mess hall.
Three thousand more
,
my God, the man is insane.
She could not fathom what was happening. It was simply unbelievable. If she weren’t in the middle of it, she would never have believed it.

Tara brushed the snow off Julie’s scarf-covered head. “I’m glad we’re the only ones out here.”

“Ever since that night I got through to Mom’s cell, I’ve been out here. No one else comes out. They’re too tired. We all gave our blood donations yesterday before you arrived, and normally we would be drawn again today or tomorrow. With it being Christmas, I don’t know. They might take a day off.”

Tara didn’t answer. She was still too horrified by the prospect. She watched the people cross the concourse, the line bending, snaking, growing, but ever so slowly inching forward at a snail’s pace. Just as she could see the end of the line, another barracks would release their occupants and it swelled again. Both women sat staring, mesmerized, saying nothing.

Tara felt her eyes drawn to a figure just coming into view, leaving the fourth building back. Something about the person seemed familiar, jogging a memory somehow. Tara stared, trying to place what it was. Suddenly, a sense of surety came over her. She got up on stiff legs and toddled to the fence, eyes wide.

“Julie, come here.”

Julie joined her there. “Do you see that person in the dark coat with the white scarf and hat? Right there, behind the man in the red jacket?” Tara pointed them out.

Julie squinted to see. It was still quite far away, a hundred yards back.

“Mom!” Julie breathed, clutching her fingers into the diamond-shaped links of the fence, rattling it. They both watched in suspense for a few seconds more.

“It’s her,” Julie cried softly, “Mom—Mary!”

“Julie, calm down, it’s not safe!” Tara reminded her, glancing around for guards, but Julie was beside herself now, out of control. “MOM!” she screamed. Tara grabbed at her, clamping one hand over her mouth.
She’s going to get us killed! Mary too!

Julie gurgled and squealed under Tara’s hand, trying to pull away and squirm free.

“Stop it!” hissed Tara, appealing to Julie’s common sense. “You’re going to get her killed! Stop it right this instant!”

Julie’s wild eyes focused on Tara’s for a moment. She stopped struggling and nodded. She understood and calmed herself. Tara took her hand away from Julie’s mouth slowly; ready to clamp it back on if necessary. Julie was crying now, big tears coursing down her cheeks.

“It’s okay, Julie. Let me try to get her attention.” They waited at the fence as the food line slowly came abreast of their position. Tara could see Mary’s face turned their way, perhaps having heard Julie scream. Tara searched again for a guard, but saw none. She raised one arm and waved it back and forth twice. Mary responded—she raised hers once, but did not wave.

She sees us!
Tara pointed straight out to the side, toward the entrance door to their building. She thought she saw Mary nod. Julie was crying heavily now, heartbreaking sobs.

“Shh,” Tara told her, “It’s okay—she’s okay. I’m going to get her in here somehow, Julie. Wait here.” Tara knew she couldn’t send Julie inside to do this. The girl’s distress was too noticeable.

Running on adrenalin alone, Tara reentered the building, moving quickly past Ben and the other cots with their dozing residents. She reached the far door, waiting until she thought Mary’s line had most likely just about reached the mess hall directly across from them. It was all she could do not to open the door, but Tara knew the risk if a guard or kitchen worker spotted them.

Finally, to give enough time, she counted to one hundred in her head. Tara eased the door slowly open. There was Mary in the line just twenty-five feet away. Mary’s face lit up with joy.

Glancing in all directions, Tara saw it was now or never. She motioned to her friend to come, and Mary did, at a measured pace so as not to raise suspicion. It was the longest twenty-five feet Tara had ever marked off.

As Mary stepped inside the door safe, Tara hugged her with all her might. “Oh, Mary, my God, what happened? Where’s Lee?” Tara didn’t wait for an answer, realizing there wasn’t time for her to explain. She took Mary’s hand and pulled her across the large building toward the back corner. When they reached the sleeping Ben, Mary scooped him up with a gasp, blanket and all.

Tara opened the back door and motioned her out. She saw Ben blinking sleepy eyes as his grandma covered his face with kisses, then that beautiful smile again. Mary almost stumbled forward going out the door, and Tara caught her.

Julie rushed to wrap her arms around her mother and son. All Tara could do was shush them as they cried, covering them protectively with her arms and swiveling her head around to watch for threats. Finally, Tara pulled them to the bench and they all sat down together, while Mary began to explain.

“I went to find out what happened to you, Tara. I went to Clyde’s, and was headed to the factory. The white vans are out, doing some sort of sweep or something. I didn’t hear them drive up behind me.”

In her joy and excitement to see Mary and get her inside with them, Tara had no time to absorb what this meant. Lee was alone. The creeping dread of this sudden realization made Tara nauseous. “How is Lee?”

Mary shook her head. “Oh, Tara, I wish I could lie, but he’s not good. He’s vomiting blood as of this morning, but he wanted me to go to find out what happened to you. I never in a million years thought the vans would be out. Neither did he, I’m sure.”

Julie chimed in, telling her mother about the ramping up of production and the rounding up of the last survivors. This led to more questions from Mary, and having to break the news about the camp’s true mission in all its horror. Mary just stared at them in disbelief.

“It’s so much worse than we thought,” she finally said, and Julie and Tara agreed. They sat in silence for a while as Mary rocked Ben back to sleep. Tara’s thoughts centered on Lee, and how physically close he was, lying in bed just blocks down the road. Then her mind moved on to the plasma, and finally, to the bolt cutters under the snow somewhere only yards away. Tara put her head in her hands and began to cry in frustration and agony.
Lee is going to die, alone and horribly
. She wouldn’t be there for him, after all the times he’d been there for her.

Mary wrapped an arm around Tara’s shoulders, and Julie got up and scooted over to Tara’s other side, hugging her too. Julie and Mary had been reunited, and that made Tara happy for them, but sad for herself.

After a good cry, Tara thanked them and apologized, but they brushed her words aside and told her how strong she always was. Even though this was her worst-case scenario, Tara was grateful for Julie and Mary being there.

No one said much as they watched the line of people dwindle and disappear. Everyone had now been fed. Tara was still lost in quiet despair over Lee. The thought of him home alone and so sick nearly killed her. It was the most helpless she’d ever felt.

“I wonder if I could bribe a guard to let me out?” she mused aloud, then answered her own question. “But what do I even have left to bribe them with?”

“It would be too risky, Tara,” Julie softly told her, and Tara knew that. However, she also knew she was desperate enough to try anything. Now that Julie’s mother was here, Tara couldn’t sustain the lie any longer. It was time to tell them what she really thought.

“No one’s coming to get us, Julie. I only said that to give you hope.” Julie just stared at her and Tara cradled her head back in her hands. No one spoke after that.

The late afternoon grew darker and turned to dusk as the women sat side by side occasionally brushing the snow off one another. Finally, Mary broke the silence. “At least we’re together, and I thank God for that,” she said, holding the sleeping Ben tightly. Tara conceded it was better than being alone. Like Lee. Then she started to cry again.

~

The old man sat at his table looking out the window as the afternoon light faded. He had waited on many things in his life; the safe births of his children; victory in World War II; and finally in recent years, for his long life to come to an end. But waiting on Mary to return with news—something, anything—this seemed interminable. He was normally a patient man, as most who reach their nineties are. He learned long ago that not many things are hurried by worrying about them. Once daylight faded, both his hope and his mood darkened along with the night.

Clyde got up from the table and moved slowly about the small room, picking up an old framed photograph of him and his sweetheart. He smiled at their young, innocent faces, him in his Marine uniform and she in a tailored suit. It was their wedding photo. He still missed her after all these years.

Clyde put the picture down, and walked to the closet door. His old uniform hung inside. He had wanted to be buried in it, but doubted there was anyone left to see to that. He brushed at the shoulders of the jacket, then lifted the hanger out and brought it into the light, admiring it. He hung it on the doorknob. He thought that maybe he would have to try it on soon.

~

The women sat shivering on the bench in the snowy night, but no one wanted to go inside. Julie and Mary huddled together, occasionally talking about minor things. They tried to draw Tara into conversation, but she was mute. Her despair had turned to peevishness and she fought an internal battle, trying not to resent Julie and Mary’s good fortune at being reunited.

The stillness of the falling snow blanketing the camp was beautiful, yet sad too. It brought back other Christmas Eves for Tara, in happier times. She steered her thoughts away from that, and from Lee. There was nothing she could do but pray, and finally that is exactly what she did. She prayed for help, for peace, and mostly, for acceptance of her situation.

Tara’s joints felt frozen solid and she stretched her legs out, deciding maybe it was time to go in. Tomorrow was donation and vaccination day. Maybe this would be the beginning of her end. Maybe she’d meet Lee on the other side. Tara wrapped her mind around acceptance of whatever fate had planned for her. She was no longer so sure there was a God.
I give up. There’s nothing more I can do.
She’d decided to meet her end stoically.

Suddenly, the faint rattle of dry brush behind them caught her attention. It was the first sound in the truly silent night. She turned slightly, looking back over her shoulder at the fence.
Who is that!
Tara gasped. A dark-haired figure crouched there. Her sharp intake of breath drew Mary and Julie’s attention.

“Who are you?” Tara demanded, hissing through her teeth. The man came to the fence.

“It’s Luke, Kevin’s son.”

“Oh, dear God, Luke!” Tara’s excitement was instantly doused by guilt.
I have to tell him about his Dad.

Luke leaned close to whisper through the fence. “I brought binoculars to the ridge to see if I could spot Dad. Then I saw you out here, so I waited until dark. What’s happened, where is my Dad?” Julie and Mary formed a sort of barrier with Tara, so no one who entered the yard would see Luke crouched there.

“Oh, Luke, I have bad news. I’m sure the Resistance told you he went to scout the entrance and they captured us.”

Luke nodded, “Yes, I heard. I’ve been worried ever since. So has Mom.” Tara hated to say the next words, to destroy this boy’s family in a few words. She stared into his dark eyes.

“Luke, they kept your dad to interrogate him, I assume. We think that’s how they know all about the Resistance.” Tara paused. “He didn’t give me away though, and I’m so grateful. I’m so sorry to tell you this—we saw Kevin’s body on the bonfire the next morning.” Tara closed her eyes. All strength left her with these words.