Margaret and Carol

Margaret held the neck of her dress pulled up over her mouth as she tried to breathe in the dust filled darkness, “Carol, are you all right?”

Carol tried to answer, but the dusty air was choking her and she coughed as she tried to speak. Clearing her throat, she pulled her own blouse up and covered her mouth as she tried to suck filtered air into her lungs. “Hard…to…breathe.”

Carol heard movement and finally Margaret’s hand touched her shoulder, “Are you breathing through a cloth or something?”

“I am now.”

“So am I, the dust should settle after a while.”

The two women lay in the darkness as the collapsed structure around them continued to tremble with punctuations of violent tremors. Carol coughed again to clear her throat, “Goodness that was the worst earthquake I’ve ever experienced!”

“Me too, I wonder if everyone else is alright.”

Carol listened quietly and then, “I heard screams and then nothing; some of the screams were cut-off short, so I doubt everyone is alright.”

“Maybe we should call to them, to see if they are hurt?” Margaret’s voice trembled.

“I don’t know, if we shout the infected might hear us and be drawn to the sound. Let’s wait and see if anyone else calls out.”

“Won’t someone else’s shouts draw them also?”

“Probably.” Carol turned onto her back where she lay and reached upwards until her hand contacted the ceiling of the room they were in. The collapsed surface was slanting upwards towards the wall. Following the upward angle, she wriggled forward on her back until she could sit upright with her back against the wall. “Margaret, come to my voice, there’s more room and you can sit up.”

Carol listened to Margaret as she crawled forward and finally sat next to her in the darkness. “That’s better,” she said.

Raising the sling of her gun over her head, she laid the weapon across her thighs and then removed the magazine pouches and laid them next to her hip. “We should get as comfortable as we can until daylight, maybe we’ll be able to see something then. You still have your gun, right?”

“Yes.” Margaret shifted about and slid some objects across the floor, “The other guns fell off the walls.” The collapsed room they were trapped in had contained an elderly man’s gun collection, more than once the historic weapons had saved the lives of members of their group of survivors. She tensed, the building shifted as another hard tremor passed beneath them and she grabbed Carol’s arm.

“Easy,” Carol said as she patted her hand. “I think the worst of it is over.”

“God, I hope so.” Her voice was trembling. “Maybe most of the infected were killed?”

Carol doubted the possibility, but maybe, “We can only pray.”

The infected, four weeks had passed since the outbreak of the Rage Virus and the world had gone to hell in a hand basket. In the previous weeks, their small band of survivors had managed to secure their safety, provide themselves with food and other supplies, and begin to slip into a routine. They had been reasonably safe within Mike and Catherine’s apartment building once Mike directed the rest of the men to secure the building. They were literally surrounded by death after the outbreak, but under Mike’s leadership they had only lost one person and that had been a suicide.

The two women sat quietly as the building rocked to another aftershock.

Now though, things were going to be different. Now they wouldn’t have the benefit of a strong building and both of the women were certain their group survivors had to be smaller, perhaps they were the only ones left.

Carol ran the palm of her hand over the surface of her weapon, “One good thing.”

“What?” Margaret asked.

“We have plenty of ammunition for our guns.”

“But we don’t have water, or food.”

“When it gets light we’ll see if we can find a way to the kitchen, maybe we can salvage something.”

“Shh! Did you hear that?”

Carol closed her mouth and listened intently, “What was it? What did you hear?”

“I think it was someone shouting the name, Michael.”

“Man or woman?”

“Woman and I want to say it was Catherine!” There was only one person in their group named, Michael, Michael Moore; he had been their leader and pulled everyone together while giving them hope they could survive. Catherine had been his next door neighbor and the two of them had become lovers after the outbreak. Neither Carol, nor Margaret, approved of the relationship, but Carol seemed more open about it than Margaret. Margaret had tried repeatedly to police the morals of the group and lead them to live in a more Christian manner.

Both of them suddenly heard a string of gunfire followed by silence and then more shots. The gunfire became fainter as they listened; yes, it was growing more distant. Whoever it had been was running away from the apartments and were probably being chased by every infected within hearing distance.

“We should try to help, Carol!”

“How? We don’t even know if we can get out of here. Like I said, let’s wait until daylight and then we’ll try to get out.”

The two of them rested and Carol actually dozed off several times, but each time the movement of the ground beneath them woke her. Margaret was too tense and frightened, every little noise of the collapsed structure they were in scared her as it settled. After hours of waiting, Margaret noticed it was indeed becoming lighter where they were trapped and woke Carol.

“I think the sun is coming up and there’s light coming in from over there.” She pointed to their left, “See, there’s a crack in the wall or something.”

Carol rolled over and crawled towards the dim light, “You’re right, there is a crack and I can see outside a little. If we had some tools we might be able to escape.”

“If we make a hole to get out, the infected might be able to get in.”

“I know Marge, but we certainly can’t just stay here.”

Margaret didn’t answer and they lapsed into silence. It was something to consider though, if they created an escape route they would also create a way for the infected to get to them. Carol wasn’t exactly sure how they could make an escape hole anyway, they had no tools.

Margaret slid her tongue around the inside of her mouth and tried to work up saliva to ease the dryness, “I’m really getting thirsty.”

“I know.”

“We know where the bathroom is, if we can make a hole through the wall behind us and get inside the other bedroom maybe we can reach the bath tub?” Moore had directed everyone to keep the bath tubs of each apartment filled with water in case the utilities failed, it looked as though his concerns had come true.

“We can try, I suppose,” Carol responded. “But again, we don’t have any tools.”

Time passed slowly and the two women napped between aftershocks until Carol thought she could hear noise coming from deeper within the damaged building. “Margaret, I’m hearing some kind of sound.”

“It’s just the building settling.”

“I don’t think so; it has a regular rhythm sometimes.” She listened intently, “Yes, it sounds like maybe someone is knocking on something somewhere.”

“Someone else is trapped in here too?”

“Well, we survived, why not someone else.”

Together they listened for the sounds and throughout the day it seemed as though the noise was coming closer. Carol finally decided it had to be one of the members of their group attempting to escape the building. Crawling across the floor, she approached the collapsed wall separating them from the noise and tapped lightly on it. The noise instantly stopped. She tapped again and was rewarded with a return knock.

“Hello,” she said. “Who’s there?”

A muffled voice responded, “Carol?”

“Yes, yes! Thomas, is that you?”

“Yeah, is Margaret with you?”

“Yes, she’s here, are you injured?”

“Nothing serious, just minor cuts and bruises. I’m not sure where I am in the building, where are you?”

“We were in the gun room when the earthquake hit.”

“Okay, so you’re almost out of the building and I’m almost to you. I’m going to cut through this sheetrock and we’ll be able to see each other, okay?”

“Alright.”

From the other side of the wall she heard scraping and after a while the tip of a knife blade slid into view. She watched as the blade was twisted back and forth and then she heard a snapping sound.

“Damn it!”

“Thomas, what happened?”

“I just broke my folding knife!” After a pause, there was a sudden thud as the sheetrock bulged out and then another as the material broke out. Carol grabbed the broken sheetrock and pulled it away; on the other side she could see light; Thomas had a flashlight.

Reaching through the hole, she grabbed Thomas’ large hand and squeezed it, “Thomas, I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Well. I’m not there yet. We’re going to need some way to cut this 2X4 so I can get through to where you are, but without the knife I don’t know how I’m going to do it.”

Margaret crawled next to Carol, “Thomas, there are those old rifles in here, the ones no one wanted. They have those folding spikes on the end of the barrels…”

“The bayonets! Yeah, bring one over and open it out then we can use it to chip away the wood!” They could hear him wriggle about, and then, “I’m going to pass some stuff through the hole so I have more room in here.”

“Okay,” Carol said.

The muzzle of a gun came through the hole and Carol took it and passed it to Margaret, “This is the rifle Michael was using, did you see him somewhere?”

“I saw him in the corridor as the building was collapsing, but I don’t think he made it. I found the gun and the ammunition pouches as I made my way through his room.” He pushed a leather belt and pouches through the hole. “It was a good thing I found them because my rifle and pistol are gone.”

Carol turned to Margaret, “Get one of those long rifles and bring it here, okay?”

Margaret crawled away and then returned with one of the guns. Together they figured out how to release the lock on the bayonet and extend it. “We have one of the rifles, Thomas, what do you want us to do with it?”

His hand came through the hole and tapped the wall next to it, “There is a 2X4 right here, break out the sheetrock on your side with the butt of the rifle, and then use the bayonet to chip away the board. I think once that board is gone I can squeeze through.”

Reversing the rifle, Carol broke out the surface of the wall, and then began to split away the wood; after a few minutes of gouging and twisting, she reversed the gun again and used the butt to knock the wood out of the way. Examining the resulting hole she shook her head, “I don’t know Thomas, you’re a big man and that hole looks kind of small.”

“Let me try it first, if I can’t make it we’ll try to make it bigger.” Sliding his right arm through the hole, he wriggled forward and inserted his head into the cavity they were inside of. Twisting and pushing forward with his legs he managed to get his left shoulder into the hole before he stopped. “Crap! I think you were right, Carol, I’m not going to make it through.” He took several breaths and then started to wriggle backwards, but he couldn’t withdraw his shoulder.

Carol reached out and pushed on his shoulder. “Stop, Carol!” Groaning, he took several more breaths and then exhaled, “Try pushing now.”

She pushed as hard as she could, but nothing happened, “Thomas, it’s not working!”

He breathed in again before gasping, “I know, damn.” He tried to twist to his right, nothing, and then to his left, again it was of no avail. When he spoke again there was a trace of panic in his voice, “Carol, you’re going to have to chip away the broken stud; it’s getting hard for me to breathe.”

“It’s pressed against your shoulder and chest, what if I miss, or the point slips off and stabs you!”

“Just do it! I can’t breathe!” Thomas was struggling to catch his breath.

Margaret crawled forward beside her, “Carol, you hold the point of the bayonet where it needs to be and I’ll hit the other end with the heel of my hand.”

Holding the tip of the spike in place, Carol raised the rest of the rifle with her thigh, “Try that.” Margaret hit the back of the weapon, but little was accomplished, “Right where we need to chip the wood there’s a knot and it’s really hard!”

“Aright, let me turn around.” Margaret twisted about and finally reached a point where she could place her foot against the butt of the rifle. “Are you ready to try again?”

“I don’t know, Marge, if the point slips…”

“Damn it!” Thomas gasped, “Just do it!”

Before Carol could properly grip the point, Margaret pulled her foot back and stomped on the end of the rifle as hard as she could. The point slipped from the hard surface of the wood and sank deeply into Thomas’ chest. His body went ridged, and then relaxed, his head lowering to the floor, his mouth open and his eyes staring upwards.

“Oh God! Oh God, no!” Carol scrambled backwards pushing Margaret out of the way in order to reach the area where she could once again sit upright. Drawing her knees to her forehead she began to sob. “We killed him.”

A minute later, Margaret joined her as she pulled the rifle along beside her. “I brought the gun; maybe we can use it to make a hole so we can get out of here.” She spoke in a monotone, of all the people in their little group; Margaret had been closest to Thomas.

Wiping her eyes, Carol nodded, “Okay.”

Together, they crawled their way to the crack in the wall the light was coming through, and began to take turns thrusting the point of the bayonet into the area around the crack, slowly enlarging the hole. The weight of the rifle was difficult to handle while lying on their sides, so they took frequent breaks to rest their arms and catch their breaths.

Eventually, it grew dark again and they tried to rest, but the thirst they were suffering from became problematic. Carol knew that dehydration could cause people to make serious mental errors and she hoped they were not in the process of making one theirselves, but they had no choice, they had to escape the ruins of the apartment building before they died from lack of water.

The next morning the hole they had created allowed more light to enter as the sun rose and they were able to see what they needed to do easier. They spent another hour enlarging the hole between two wall studs, but it still wasn’t large enough for either of them to crawl through. They talked for a few minutes about which way they should expand the hole, finally Margaret reached through the hole and felt the surface of the exterior wall, she might be able to determine the best way to go.

Carol watched with a growing feeling of uneasiness until suddenly Margaret screamed and tried to pull her arm back inside. “It’s got me!” She screamed again and suddenly her cry rose in scale and she struggled harder to pull her arm back in. Carol wrapped her arms around her shoulders and chest, and then pulled with all of her strength. At first she thought it wasn’t going to help, but suddenly Margaret was released and they scrambled backwards from the hole. Both of them watched as first a hand and forearm became visible, and then the face of a man who tried to see into the darkness where they huddled, an infected.

He was disheveled in appearance and his face was gaunt; from his bared teeth bloody droll was dripping. “Margaret,” Carol asked. “Did he bite you?”

She didn’t answer.

“Margaret, did that man bite you?”

Margaret raised her arm and showed it to Carol, the teeth marks were plain to see as was the blood dripping from her elbow. “Yes, I guess we’re in big trouble now.”

They returned to where they could sit up and leaned against the wall. “What are we going to do?” Carol asked.

Margaret didn’t answer for a moment, but then she reached out and gathered Carol’s gun from where it lay on the floor and handed it to her, “You know what you have to do.”

“No.”

“You have to, Carol.”

“No.”

“Carol, I’d do it for you, but if I do it I’m not sure I can get into Heaven, you know?”

“I’m not going to do it!” She pushed the weapon away from her.

They sat in silence for a while, and then Margaret said, “You go into a coma, right? Then, when you wake up you’re infected?”

“I guess.” Carol refused to look at her.

“Then the thing to do is wait until I’m unconscious.”

Carol felt as though she should be crying, but there were no tears, was she that dehydrated? “Margaret, I don’t think I can do it.”

“Carol, would you want to be like one of them? Would you want to be responsible for infecting others?”

“No.”

“Neither do I.”

“Mike said his professor said some people die, instead of changing. Maybe you’ll die instead of becoming infected.”

“He said there was a 90 per cent chance you become crazy.” They sat in silence while the man who bit Margaret kept coming back to the hole and staring into the darkness they sat within. “Carol, you’ll do it right? You won’t let me become one of them?”

In the shadows she nodded her head.

“Carol?”

“Yes, I won’t.”

“Thank you.” She scooted down until she could stretch out on her side, “I’m not feeling very good and I’m tired, so I’m going to try and sleep for a while.”

“Alright.” Carol reached out and stroked the side of Margaret’s head.

Before much time had passed, Margaret slipped into a deep slumber and Carol noticed the temperature of Margaret’s body seemed to steadily increase, finally, she moved away and rested her gun on her thighs as she watched her friend.

Carol jolted awake and stared around herself, her eyes wide as she tried to penetrate the darkness. Had the sun set? Was it night time? Was Margaret still asleep, or unconscious? She listened and heard movement from where Margaret had laid down, was she changed now? God, what if she was and now she was in the darkness waiting to spring out and sink her teeth into Carol’s body? She felt panic beginning to build within her

“Margaret?” The sound of movement stopped and Carol could hear the pounding of her heart; could Margaret hear her beating heart also? Where was the flashlight Thomas passed through to them?

Raising her weapon in front of herself she braced for the possible attack, I should have killed her when she was asleep. Now what am I going to do? Breathing through her open mouth she waited, and waited. Why doesn’t she come? She heard movement again and it was closer this time; pointing her weapon she squeezed the trigger. The gun jumped in her hands and the sudden shot in the confines of the small space hurt her ears, but in the muzzle flash she saw Margaret for a split second crawling towards her. She fired again, and then again, following her movements as if in a strobe light. Finally, Margaret lay in a crumpled heap inches from Carol’s feet.

Carol began to cry.

The morning sunlight through the hole in the wall was blocked as an infected man lowered his head and looked through the hole again. She had already shot five with the hopes of killing them and getting out, but more came to the sounds of the shots. “I’m not coming out, so you and your friends may as well leave,” she said.

Working her tongue around the inside of her mouth, Carol tried to generate saliva to ease her thirst, but her tongue simply stuck to the roof of her mouth, the surface of her lips were cracked and when she touched them with her fingertips they burned. Tired, she was so tired it was a struggle to stay awake.

“I’m not getting out of here,” she said. She started to smile to herself, but her lips cracked more. “Not that it would do me any good, I have no idea how to survive out there. Where will I get water? What about food? I don’t even know how to start a fire to keep warm. There’s nowhere safe once I leave.” She laughed to herself, “But I’m safe in here; they can’t get to me in here.”

“I can’t go out because the infected will get me; I can’t stay because I’m dying of thirst. I guess there’s only one alternative.” Picking up her gun she turned it in her hands and pressed the muzzle between her breasts, slipping her thumb into the trigger guard she started to pull the trigger, but hesitated, “What if I miss my heart, will I slowly die in pain?”

Dropping the gun back to her lap, she sighed, then raised it and pressed it up beneath her jaw as she glanced at her friends’ bodies, she should have made sure Margaret waited before kicking the butt of the rifle, she should have said something, a warning, before Margaret reached out the hole to feel the wall, she should have…she pulled the trigger.

xxxx

Ricardo Morales

Rick scooped the French fries from the bin, fed them into the paper container, and then placed them on the tray in front of the customer. Reaching under the counter he removed two medium cups and placed them upside down next to the fries, “The burgers will be up in a moment, Ma’am.”

“Thank you.”

He looked past her and said to the man behind her and next in line, “May I help you, Sir?”

The man stepped forward as Jimmy Polaski nudged Rick aside with his shoulder, “I’ve got this, Morales,” he said. “Why don’t you grab the mop and give the backroom a quick cleaning.”

“Alright, Mister Polaski.” Rick stepped away as Jimmy started taking the man’s order, but he noticed he wasn’t punching in the appropriate keys on the register. Another free meal for another friend? Someday all the free food was going to catch up with Jimmy, in the meantime he was Rick’s boss, so Rick headed for the backroom.

When he finished with the floor in the storage room he gravitated back to the front counter and saw Jimmy trying to take an order from a customer who only spoke Spanish, finally in frustration he looked around and saw Rick.

“Hey, Morales. Take this guy’s order!”

Rick stepped up to the counter, “Sorry, Mister Polaski, but I don’t speak Spanish,”

“What? What do you mean you don’t speak Spanish? You’re Mexican, how can you not speak Spanish?”

“I’m not a Mexican, I’m an American.”

Benson frowned, “I know that, but you’re Hispanic, right?”

Rick shrugged, “That’s how some people refer to my heritage.”

“I hired you so we could take orders from people who speak Spanish!”

“If that was the reason you hired me, I guess you made a mistake; I don’t speak Spanish.”

“How the hell can you have a Mexican last name and not speak Spanish?”

“You have a Polish last name, do you speak Polish?”

Polaski’s face went blank, “What?”

Jesus, Rick thought, how does this guy function? “Though I have had no training in Spanish, perhaps I can be of help though.” He stepped in front of the customer and smiled, then pointed at the menu board above and behind him, “Numero uno? Dos, tres?”

The man smiled, “Numero cinco, grande, no kaychup?”

Polaski leaned forward and looked at the register as Rick punched in the order. “What did he ask for?”

“A large number five with no ketchup,” he said as he took the man’s money and returned his change.

“Why did you tell me you didn’t speak Spanish?” Polaski’s face bore an expression of suspicion.

“Because I don’t, but we live in Southern California and it’s impossible not to pick up a little Spanish along the way.”

Polaski’s eyes widened, “Are you trying to insult me?”

I don’t have to try, it’s easy. “Not at all, Mister Polaski, we use Spanish all the time and don’t even notice when we do. Have you ever ordered a burrito, or carne asada? Been to San Diego, or Los Angeles? We live in San Bernardino County, all Spanish names. You probably know just as much Spanish as I do, but it’s difficult to put it together into a conversation.”

“You mean it’s difficult for me to put it together.” Polaski’s face was beginning to turn red.

“Mister Polaski, you have an important job here and you have many concerns on your mind; with all of your responsibilities I can understand how it might be difficult to switch gears.”

Jimmy blinked several times, and then, “Yeah, yeah I have a lot of responsibility and I don’t have time to learn Spanish. Okay, good job Rick, I’m going to keep an eye on you; you might make a good assistant manager someday.”

Oh boy! Rick thought as Jimmy walked away and then looked to his next customer, “May I take your order, Ma’am?”

Rick stepped out the door as Polaski closed it behind him, “See you tomorrow afternoon, Rick.”

“Yes Sir, Mister Polaski.” Walking to his beater car, Rick removed his keys and unlocking the door, opened it and sat down. One more year, he thought. One more year and I can get a real job. Was it going to make any difference though? Working fast food hadn’t been a bad job until the franchise brought in Polaski, but things had been going downhill since. Most of the experienced workers had left and Rick would too if he had the time to look for a different job. Between working, attending class, and homework he just couldn’t see it happening though. He twisted the ignition key and the engine started turning over, and then over, and over; Come on, come on, shit! Start damn it! The engine backfired and then caught as it began to roughly idle.

Sighing, Rick removed his ball cap and scratched at his head; there was no way the car was going to pass its up-coming smog check and he didn’t have the money to get it worked on, hell it wasn’t worth having it worked on. Putting the old Chrysler in gear, he feathered the gas pedal to get the vehicle moving and it promptly died. Back into park, turn the key, and finally it started again, it was best to let it idle a while longer before heading for his apartment. At the far end of the parking lot a police car pulled in and began to slowly progress along the store fronts of the strip mall playing its spotlight around and then picked up speed as it approached Rick’s parked and idling car, Great! Now I get to deal with the cops.

Rolling down his window, Rick put his work hat back on and then placed both hands on the steering wheel as the cop shined his light on the Chrysler. The patrol car stopped and the driver asked, “Hey, did you see a man run through here wearing pajamas?”

Pajamas? “No Officer, I just got off work and…”

“Thanks!” The cop pulled away and then back onto Haven Avenue headed north.

“Pajamas?” He shrugged to himself and then tried leaving again, this time the car pulled out and he headed for home.

As he was unlocking his door, Rick could hear his phone ringing inside of the apartment. He stepped quickly inside and picked it up, “Hello?”

“Ricky! It’s Thomas! What are you doing?”

“I just got in from work and now I have to work on one of my mid-term papers.”

“Come have a drink with me.”

“Tom, it’s twelve-thirty at night, I just got off work, and I have to work on a paper so I can turn it in tomorrow.” Rick was lying, the paper wasn’t due until next week, but Thomas was a bit of a slut and had been hitting on Rick for a couple of weeks.

“It seems like every time I give you a call you’re either working, or doing something involving school, I’m beginning to think you don’t like me.”

Maybe he’s not as dumb as he seems, “Tom, I work full-time and I’m taking four classes at Cal State Fullerton, it takes up all of my time.”

“Hey, all work and no play…”

“Thomas, I really don’t have time right now, I’m tired and I have work to do, okay?”

“Look, if you don’t want to get together just say so. There’re plenty of other guys I can get with.”

Asshole. “I have things that are more important to me right now, Thomas. Tell you what, give me your phone number and when I have some spare time I’ll give you a call.”

“When you have some spare time? You know what? I don’t need this…”

Rick hung up the phone without allowing Thomas to finish, it was rude, but he really didn’t care at the moment. In fact, he didn’t want to do anything at all, so he went to bed.

When he woke up the next morning he lay there looking at the ceiling of his bedroom. He didn’t want to get up, he didn’t want to go to school, he didn’t want to think about his car, and he didn’t want to think about work. Realizing he wasn’t accomplishing anything he swung his legs out of the covers and stood up. Pull it together. He showered and shaved, fixed cold cereal for breakfast, and then stared at the wall as the cornflakes grew soggy. God I need a change, something, anything. Leaving the cereal on the table he turned on the TV and sat back down and ate as the television warmed up; like everything else he owned, it was on its last legs.

Maybe he could call his father and tell him he wasn’t gay any more, maybe he could go back to work at the family store again. It would be nice to be able to visit with his family again, all of them and not just Louise his sister. His dad might let him move back in the house and he could use the delivery van to get back and forth to class. Maybe.

No, the last time he talked to his father it hadn’t turned out well and now everyone, but Louise, said Rick was dead to them. He had burned his bridges, but it had made him so angry when his father told him he had chosen to be gay. Why would anyone choose to be gay, to be ostracized from their family, to have society in general look askance at them? It wasn’t his fault he was born the way he was, why couldn’t his family understand that?

The picture on the TV finally came on and it looked like they were showing another stolen car chase from a helicopter overhead, he changed the channel and listened to an announcer who was talking about the sudden wave of violence and rioting occurring around the country. He sat there listening and began to wonder, were these riots part of a plan? He had gotten interested in politics and the gay rights movement on campus, but he didn’t like the idea of violent confrontation that some of the people advocated, so he quit attending meetings. Then the SDS and other groups he had ties with, or people he knew with connections to other groups started talking about violence also. Rick severed all ties with any group advocating the overthrow of the government and had even spoken out against it.

The TV suddenly went blank and the picture was replaced with a stationary graphic, what the hell is that? The Emergency Broadcast Symbol. “Great, what have I missed?”

He found the remote for the cable and began searching through the channels until finally he found a channel working. The newscaster looked harried, almost nervous. Looking into the upper corner he saw the channel symbol, Fox news; perfect, the only channel on is the one that’s sole purpose is to fill the airways with conservative propaganda.

He hit the volume increase button just as the picture went off air and was replaced with an outline of the U.S. with red dots on it. Below the picture was a scrolling banner from right to left.

Fox News is currently broadcasting without the permission of the FCC, and against the explicit direction of FEMA and the Office of the President. As a public service, we will continue to broadcast information regarding the outbreak until forced from the air. The President has announced he will address the Nation at 11:00 pm Eastern Standard Time. Secure your home, arm yourself, and be prepared to defend yourself and family with deadly force. This is a public safety announcement. Please stand by.

“What?” He quickly scanned the rest of the channels, found nothing, and returned to Fox. Below the map was a title, Areas of reported infection. “Infection? What infection?”

He picked up the phone and dialed Louise, but there was no answer. Finally he dialed the number of his father’s business, the phone was picked up and he heard his father’s voice, “Morales Garden Center.”

“Dad, it’s me, Ricardo.”

There was a long pause, and then, “Hello.”

“Dad, I just turned on the news, but I don’t know what’s going on, there’s just a map of the United States and it says ‘areas of reported infection’, do you know what is happening?”

“Why don’t you call, Louise?”

“I tried, but the call wouldn’t go through.”

There was a long pause before he answered. “There are a lot of crazy things happening. People are attacking other people and biting them and then the people who are bitten get sick before they try to bite people too. I’m looking out into the parking lot right now and there is a group of people who attacked the delivery man of one of our suppliers; Ricardo, it looks like the man is dead and the other people are eating him.”

“Did you say the people are eating him?”

“Yes, they are covered with blood and I tried to call the police, but no one answered.”

“Are you safe right now, can the sick people get to you?”

“I have the store locked, but I can’t leave. I tried to call your mother, but she didn’t answer.”

“Alright, I’m going to come, Dad, and help you get home, okay?”

There was another pause, “Ricardo, I…” Another pause, “Ricardo, I should not have sent you away, I should have tried to understand better what was happening, but…” Another pause, and then something Rick had thought he would never hear again, “I love you, Ricardo.”

He swallowed hard as he tried to choke back the emotion he felt, “I love you too, Papa. I’m going to my car now and I’ll get to you as quick as I can, alright?”

“Be careful.”

“I will, Papa.” He hung up the phone and changed into his hiking boots, then grabbed his softball bat as he ran out the door. On the walkway of the apartment building he squeezed past one of his neighbors as they struggled with a mattress trying to carry it down the stairs and then to the parking lot where he sat in his car and made a silent prayer as he tried to start the motor. The motor kept cranking over and over, but just when he thought it wasn’t going to start, it coughed and began to run, Thank you, God!

He allowed the engine to warm up, then put it in gear and headed for his family’s business in Pomona, at the exit of the parking lot the engine died, worse yet, it wouldn’t restart no matter what he tried to do. He managed to push the car out of the driveway and then ran to the nearest bus stop where he impatiently waited for a bus that never came. Finally, running back to his apartment he tried to call his father back, but like his call to his sister, it wouldn’t go through.

“Damn it!” He started pacing back and forth; maybe one of his friends would give him a ride? He leafed through his address book and tried several numbers, but again, the calls wouldn’t go through. This was his chance to return to the family! There had to be a way, some way to get to his father!

The phone rang and Rick snatched it up and placed it next to his ear, “Hello!”

“Ricardo?” His father.

“Dad! My car died and I can’t get it started!”

“It’s alright, as soon as we hung up before they got in and…well, I got away, but I was bitten.”

“Papa?” His heart began a slow pounding in his chest and it became hard to breathe.

“I tried to call your Mama, but there was no answer, so I called Louise and she says they got to your Mamma.” His father’s voice was close to breaking. “They killed her, Ricardo.”

Rick sat down heavily, “I see. I’ll try and get to you somehow, Papa, you and Louise.”

“No, don’t come here, it won’t do any good and don’t try to reach Louise, I sent her to your Aunt’s house in Solana Beach. If you get your car going, go to your Aunt’s house and find Louise, alright?”

“I will, Papa.”

“I’m not feeling very well, so I think I’ll lie down for a while.” There was a long pause, “I love you, Ricky, and I wish I would have told you long ago.”

“I know, Papa. I love you too.” He waited several long moments; finally he heard the distinct click of the phone disconnecting. “I love you, Dad!”

Rick hung up the phone and stared out the window of the apartment as tears began to trickle down his cheeks. Eventually he lay down on his couch and slept.

Rick was startled awake and looked quickly around himself, but it was the TV that had awakened him and he recognized the Speaker of the House giving a speech… tonight at a time when our great nation teeters on the precipice of disaster and we are confronted with the worst calamity we have ever faced in the history of our land. As you may know, riots and murder are sweeping through our peaceful neighborhoods as I speak. The poor people who are carrying out the crimes we are experiencing, are not to blame for what is happening, they are as much victims as the rest of us are, therefore we must first address the underlying reasons, the conditions, which have allowed this terrible event to occur. Under the leadership of the President, and the Vice-president, we have seen a reduction to the internal security of our nation, our homes have been thrown open to the will of foreign terrorists and now we, all of us, are paying the price. Because of the ineptitude, or the will, of the President, the Vice-president, and certain others of the opposing political party, this evening I have been forced to have the President, the Vice-president, the Whitehouse staff and five members of the United States Supreme Court arrested and incarcerated in a location to be revealed when the current crisis is resolved. I know this is a frightening scenario, but a necessary one. I was sworn in as President of the United States of America under the rules of succession, less than one hour ago, but I assure you I am completely in command and will soon order the distribution of the cure and the vaccine for the disease which is at the moment ravaging our nation. Naturally, under the conditions we are faced with, I am hereby declaring a state of national emergency and I am imposing martial law. Both houses of Congress will be suspended and I will lead by presidential decree until enough of the membership of Congress can be located and brought to the Capitol to form a legal quorum. Please be patient and know help is on the way. God bless you, and God bless the USA. Good night.”

His stomach was churning as she walked off the platform, but he continued to watch the screen. Did she just say what he thought she had said? The President and everyone else were under arrest? Did this mean the progressives were now in power? Was any of what she said legal?

As he watched another man approached the microphone. “Can you turn the camera back on…It is…” He looked into the camera, “Listen, uh, listen America,” he pointed off stage. “I don’t know about a revolution, or a coup, but I know this, there is no cure for the disease we are facing and there is no vaccine. The Speaker, or President, whatever she is, is lying to you. Right now the only chance you have is to stay away from the infected and kill them from a distance if you can. Do not approach them! Do not try to help…” There was a muffled cracking sound and the man stepped back, a look of surprise and pain on his face. Another man stepped into view and fired a second shot; the bearded man fell from view off the screen.

The man with the gun stood looking down at where the wounded and maybe dead man would be on the floor. “Who is this little weasel?”

One of the other men who had been standing behind the Speaker spoke up, “This little weasel was Dr. Thaddeus Brown. He was going to help create the vaccine that would have helped those of us who have not been infected yet. You just murdered the only man who could save us and it was televised nationally.” The picture faded to black. The screen flickered and the map was back, it seemed to be a lot redder than it was before.

Rick shivered, his eyes frozen to the screen, “What the…did I just see someone murdered, for real?” Outside his apartment he heard a door slam heavily and when he walked to the window he saw several people run by with suitcases or boxes; they ran down the stairs in the direction of the parking lot. “Where are you going?” He muttered to himself as he glanced at the red dots on the outline of the United States on the TV. “There’s nowhere to run to.”

Returning to the couch he sat down and watched the dots on the screen spread; after a while he lay down and dozed off again.

The long drawn out scream wrenched Rick from his sleep with a cry of his own, “Papa!” He sat there trembling until the scream came again; he jumped up and ran to his window. On the second floor across the courtyard from his apartment a middle-aged woman was struggling with a young man dressed in gang attire who was trying to rip a bag from her grasp. Grabbing his bat next to his door he ran out and around the walkway to where the two were fighting over the woman’s bag.

“Hey! Leave her alone!” Rick had stopped a good ten feet away and held the bat up in as menacing a manner as he could.

The man looked over his shoulder and laughed, “What you going to do, Pendejo? You gonna hit me?” He pushed the woman away and turned to face Rick with a gun he pulled from his waist band, but Rick had already closed the distance while he wasn’t looking and hit the man a resounding blow with the aluminum bat. The gun went off as the man fell against the side of the wall and Rick struck him again; the vibration from the metal bat stinging his hands. The gangbanger tried to raise the gun and Rick hit him with the bat again, and then again, and again until he was slumped in a fetal position on the walkway, a puddle of blood spreading from his head.

Breathing rapidly through his clenched teeth, he stood poised to hit the man again if he moved, but he didn’t. His shaking hands released his tight grip on the bat and he lowered it to his side. Looking at the woman, she stared back, her eyes wide and frightened, “Are you alright?” He asked.

She nodded and then glanced down at the punk on the walkway before meeting Rick’s eyes again, “Thank you, I…Thank you.” She looked quickly around, “I have to go, I’m going to my sister’s house in San Fernando.”

“You better hurry,” Rick mumbled, and then he pointed to the gun. “You should take that with you, it might come in handy.” He turned and walked to his apartment and didn’t look back.

Late in the evening, he rose from the couch once again and stared at the television, not much had changed except there were more red dots on the map. The only thing which gave him hope was the distance between the clusters between the Mississippi River and the Rockie Mountains. Rick had never been out of Sothern California, but he knew the region with the least infection reports were areas where farming was dominant. There were probably greater distances between towns and cities and maybe the authorities were able to stop the spread.

He ran scenarios through his head and wondered what he should do. Should he stay in the apartment and try to outlast the violence? Or should he try to leave and go to Solana Beach? He didn’t have a lot of food and he didn’t think making a run to the markets on the corner of Mountain Avenue and Foothill Boulevard was a very good idea without his car; maybe one of the neighbors needed to drive to the stores? The problem was, he didn’t know any of his neighbors well enough to ask to be driven.

What about the power and the gas? How long would they last if everyone was locked inside their homes or trying to drive to safety? There was one thing he knew, American civilization was very complex with layers of inter-dependence; how many nonfunctioning layers were needed for the entire system to collapse? He thought his way through to a decision, he would leave and perhaps he could catch a ride somewhere along the way.

What do I need? I can’t just walk out the door and hope for the best. It was almost 100 miles to his Aunt’s home in Solana Beach and if he ended up walking the entire distance it would take him days to get there, even if he walked twenty-five or thirty miles a day. He was going to need shelter in case it rained and even though it was spring, it was early spring and still got cold at night. He was going to need blankets and warm clothes, food, a way to start fires to cook and keep warm. How was he going to carry all of that? He didn’t have a backpack and the only suitcase he owned couldn’t be trusted for a rough trip by foot.

In his bedroom, Rick stripped his bed and spread two blankets, one atop the other, and then began gathering the items he might need for the trip. The items he chose to take with him he began to lay on the center of the blankets and when he had the food and supplies he thought he would need he began to fold the blankets over and around his supplies until he had a soft, but lumpy rectangular cube. In his closet he started removing the laces from his collection of sneakers until he had enough to loop around the package of supplies and tie them off securely.

Now he had a large cube, but no way to carry it. He stared at it for a few minutes and then returned to his closet and brought out the clothes hanger that held his leather belts. Working them through the laces around the blankets he installed them so he could use the belts as shoulder straps; lifting the bundle, he slipped his arms under the straps and bounced it around on his shoulders; it wasn’t the most comfortable load, but it would work. The problem was, what if it rained? The blankets and the clothing would soak up the rain water and there was no telling how heavy it might become. He removed the expedient backpack, took the shower curtain from his bathtub and wrapped the bundle with the waterproof plastic, retied it and reattached the belts. It was going to take a while to unload and load his supplies after he stopped to camp, but at least it wouldn’t get wet and he could use the curtain as an impromptu shelter.

Water, he needed a way to carry water. Going to the cupboard he used as a pantry he removed two, two liter soda bottles and dumped the cola into the sink and then refilled them with water. Using two additional shoelaces, he fashioned straps for the bottles and then slung them over his head, one on the right and one to his left. Looking around his apartment one last time, he picked up his aluminum bat by the door and then stepped into the early morning light. The sun wasn’t up over the horizon yet, but there was enough light to start his journey.

At the corner of San Antonio and Foothill he realized it was probably a good thing he wasn’t in his car. The streets were totally grid locked and he had already seen two fights break out between drivers; no one was going anywhere in a car. There was smoke in the air and in the distance he could hear screams and gunshots; for the first time in his life he wished he owned a gun. The backpack was loaded off-center and the strap on the left side kept slipping off his shoulder. There was a hard lump over his kidney that was jabbing him with every step and even though the morning was cool he was sweating heavily.

“And I’m going to hike a hundred miles like this?”

“What?”

Rick turned and saw a man several steps behind him, “Sorry, I was talking to myself.”

“Oh,” he fell into step beside Rick. “Where you headed?”

“Solana Beach, my sister and my aunt are there.”

“You’re lucky.” The man kept looking around them nervously. “I got caught in all the traffic while I was on my way to work.”

Rick glanced up at the man; he was at least six inches taller than Rick’s 5’10”. “You were going to work? Wow! You have a strong work ethic, that’s for sure!”

“Not really, I had too much to drink last night and I missed everything going on until I turned on the radio in my car; a little late though.”

Rick shifted the weight of the pack. “You headed for home?”

“Yeah, but I don’t have any food or anything at the house.” He stopped and placed his hand on Rick’s arm. “See those people?”

Rick looked up the road and saw three women running in their direction, behind them was another group following. The women looked frightened, the people behind looked…angry? As Rick watched one of the group chasing the women turned off and leaped upon an elderly man and bore him to the ground between two cars. “Uh, maybe we better…”

The man beside him turned and began to jog the opposite way, “Fucking A.”

Rick followed suit and began to run also. Other people, sitting in their immobilized cars, saw Rick run by and began to get out so they could see what was happening; in moments people were abandoning their vehicles and running away. Rick realized panic was beginning to build in those around him and he was shocked to discover he could feel it growing inside of himself. He tried to run faster.

People began to pass him, the lump in the backpack was pulverizing his kidney and the left strap came completely loose. Looking over his shoulder he saw more individuals and groups of runners who were covered with blood race onto Foothill and turn in the direction he was running. He stopped, removed his pack and left it on top of a car with the intention of returning for his property when he could. He began running as fast as he could. Ahead he could make out the man he had been talking to and slowly gained on him.

Running full speed, Rick burst into the intersection of Mountain and Foothill as another group of people trying to escape ran across his path. Leaping the hood of a car, he angled across the intersection, and then continued west on the north side of the boulevard. Less than fifty feet ahead, he saw the man he talked to suddenly hit from the side and knocked to his back; the man who had run into him full force was straining to reach the man’s throat with his teeth as Rick swung his bat and connected with the attacker’s head. The bat stung his fingers as he heard a crack, the bat had bent and broken.

Reaching down he pulled the man to his feet and together they ran towards a steel security gate two women were trying to enter, reaching them just as another young woman on the inside unlocked the gate and the four newcomers burst through the opening as the woman slammed the gate in the faces of the infected chasing them.

Rick and the man leaned over and began gasping for breath. Their run apparently had been much farther than the two women they had followed through the gate.

The woman from inside rested her hand on Rick’s shoulder, “You’re safe now.” Looking around herself at the three others she asked, “Have any of you been bitten?”

Rick noticed she was carrying a rifle and a pistol was in a holster on her hip. Everyone shook their heads and then Rick looked up at her concerned face, “Thanks, if you hadn’t opened the gate…”

She patted his shoulder, “It’s okay. All of you come with me and let’s get out of sight and upstairs. If they infected lose sight of us they’ll lose interest also.”

Rick turned to the man who was still gasping for breath as the two women followed the girl up the stairs, “Hey, are you going to be alright?”

He straightened up, “Yeah, just been a while since I ran so far, so fast, you know?”

Rick nodded, “I know what you mean.” He extended his hand, “I’m Rick Morales.”

The man took Rick’s hand, “Wilken, Thomas Wilken.”

“Come on, let’s get upstairs and out of sight.” Rick headed up the stairs he had watched the young woman climb.

Behind him he heard Wilken say, “You wouldn’t have anything to drink would you?”

“I had a couple of bottles of water, but they were slowing me down.” He turned his head as he continued up the stairs, “I’m sure our benefactor has some water though.”

“I was hoping for something a little stiffer than water.”

Rick continued to the top of the stairs and looked back at Wilken, at first he thought his face was flushed from running for his life, now he wondered if Wilken had a drinking problem. Down the hall he saw several kids and the two women speaking to the girl who had let them in. She opened a door and directed the group into an apartment, then stopped Rick and Thomas at the door.

“This is my neighbor’s apartment, he’s asleep right now, so try and keep the noise down, okay?”

Rick nodded, but Thomas asked, “You look familiar, have we met?”

She shook her head, “I don’t think so.”

Wilken shrugged and walked through the door.

Rick said, “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you’re letting us in, I don’t think I could have run much farther.”

“That’s okay, really. My neighbor said we needed people, do you know how to do anything? You know like, plumbing, or something like that?”

“I’m a college student, I know how to stay on the Honors Roll, but other than that I can flip burgers pretty good.” She frowned, “Sorry, I guess that wasn’t what you wanted to hear?”

“It’s okay, come on in and relax for a while and get your breath back.”

“You said your neighbor was asleep, is he going to mind all of these people showing up?”

“No, I don’t think so. He’s really nice and he seems really smart, I think he’s going to be the leader of our little group.”

Rick walked into the room and saw a man asleep on the couch with a pistol on his hip. “At least the two of you have guns, I’m already feeling better. My name’s Rick Morales,” he said as he held out his hand.

She shook it and responded, “Catherine Bodine.” She pointed to the man sleeping on the couch, “That’s Michael Moore.”

xxxx