The crickets and cicada’s were out for the night, singing a loud chorus. The end
of the world hasn’t stopped them. At this point it seems pretty clear that the E-TR virus only attacks humans. Why? No one knows. No one knows much of anything—at least not yet. But we can be thankful for small favors.
The sky above the pasture was dark and cloudy, only a small sliver of moon visible through the haze. Clouds bring the unmistakable smell of fire and decay that has followed us for weeks, even out here in the country. I don’t know where the fire started, but it must have been big.
Durham could easily be on fire by now. It’s not the biggest city, but it was big enough. Two-hundred and fifty thousand people lived there, or that’s what the people said on the news. Not the news people, but the government ones that took over the only remaining channel. There was never a specific number about the survivors. Probably because that number changed every day. Again, no one knew the real answer or if they do there’s no real way to pass it along.
I walk toward the house, my eyes fully adjusted to the dark. There’s enough light to get me to the small ranch but no light coming from inside. I pray the house is empty—but maybe not. It wouldn’t be a bad place to hole up. The windows reflect off the minimal moonlight and there are no boards covering the glass. Nothing pushed up against the windows. Occupied houses look abandoned. Abandoned houses now look occupied. Up is down. Right is wrong. That’s what happens when people start eating each other for dinner.
Who knows? This place may have been empty long before the epidemic happened. I have no real desire to find out what happened to the home owners. There are three choices, none I feel like dealing with tonight.
My heart thumps wildly in my chest—betraying my fear. I act brave in front of my mom. I don’t want her to know how scared I am. I also know fear doesn’t matter out here. I spent the night before in sheer terror waiting in the dark. I survived, which means I can survive again. We have no choice but to push through it. Excursions like this help me gain confidence and work through my fear of being alone.
I sense, rather than see the structure near me and hold my arms out, reaching for contact. My fingers scrape on the rough brick. Good. Step one complete. Step two? Find a faucet.
Crouching, I make my way around the house, feeling the whole lower area for the jut of steel. After bumping into bushes and the back side of the house I find it, nearly tripping over the protruding pipe. Add another bruise to the pile.
I turn the faucet on slowly and the pipes shudder, breathing out the pent up air. I sit on my heels hyperaware of the noise. Hyperaware of the chirping cicadas. A trickle of water rolls down my fingers. I lick them greedily, sucking the lukewarm, metallic tasting water. I rub the water across my cracked lips and tired eyes.
The water bottles fill slowly and I lean against the house. How did it come to this? I have this same thought ten times a day. How did we go from normal to this? Hiding in the dark? Stealing water?
The weird thing is that I sort of knew the answer to the question.
Chapter Eight
~Before~
10 Weeks Ago
My sister is coming home for my graduation, which means it’s more about her than it is my accomplishment, but whatever. She can’t take away the fact I’m valedictorian. Of course, this doesn’t take away the fact she was valedictorian first and now the rising star in a lab of her own. As though anyone would let me forget that.
“When does Jane’s plane get in?” I ask through a mouthful of chicken.
“Graduation is on Friday night. She should be here by that afternoon,” my dad says. His worry lines are deeper and I think his hair is grayer. He and my mom give each other disturbing side looks. I’m wondering if he’s sick or something. Is that what this is all about? I don’t want him to be sick.
“I hope she leaves herself plenty of time,” mom says. “You know how she likes to push it.”
“She’ll make it. Her classes at Emory aren’t over until that morning. It’s not like she can skip out on giving exams,” my dad says.
He’s a big defender of Jane. Probably because she’s a rising superstar in parasitology, with a focus on research. She’s a lab teaching assistant but also has already gotten funding for a big project. Like my father, work comes first with her, but my mom insisted she come home for my graduation. We still have two weeks until graduation. I’m sure something will come up before then that’ll stop her from coming. That brings something to mind.
“I heard they may cancel flights if this Eater thing doesn’t stop.” My eyes jerk up at the sound of my mother’s fork clanging against her plate. Her face turns white. “What? I saw it on the internet,” I say.
“What did you call them?”
“Eaters...you know because of the...” I look down at my plate. “You know…”
“Alexandra, that is not an appropriate topic for dinner.”
“What?” I ask. “I’m just discussing current events.”
“Your sister will be fine,” Dad says pushing his plate away. “The government is making some controlled efforts to keep the airlines safe. We got a report about it today at work.”
“Really?” I’m unable to hide my interest. “What did it say?”
“It said the airlines are making controlled efforts to keep their flights safe,” he repeats with a wink. My father and all his “confidential” work.
“Alex, are you going out tonight?” Mom asks in a clear attempt to change the subject.