Humanity Gone: After the Plague Read online

  Chapter 3: Jocelyn

  Bodies. At least half a dozen piled on top of each other beside the entrance to the garage. I could tell that Jon had tried his best to turn my head, but the horrors lock my gaze. Maggots and flies swarm the gray faces as they glare up at me. I turn and taste vomit in my mouth. This is barbaric that someone would leave this here. No one even tried to cover them up. They just lay there. Jon takes my bags and nudges me along. I don't know why, but my legs feel like bricks. It seems they want me to stand there and gaze at these sunken faces. But soon, I move on. I ask for my bags back, but he says not to worry about it. Jon tries to be protective; it makes him feel better.

  I wipe my mouth with my arm.

  “I'm okay; let's just keep going,” I mumble out. I'm really not sure if I am, but I needed to say it. I start to walk quicker, ahead of Jon, to where we parked the car last week. Not many cars are left. A few have shattered windows and the resulting shards of glass crunch beneath my boots. They seem to have been rummaged through and some have their gas tank lids open. I hear the wheels of the luggage as Jon follows me, but they don’t come close to drowning out the sound of the people outside. The crowds in the streets seem louder in the garage. I feel so uneasy, thinking about how everything would become so mad, especially when Jon and I have remained so calm throughout this ordeal. I guess we are a minority. We arrive at dad's white SUV and load in what’s left of our home. Luckily, unlike most of the cars in the garage, it hasn't been damaged. Jon takes the driver seat. We drive down the gray concrete garage. Jon has to steer around a few cars that look like they’ve broken down. Our SUV takes us around and around to the exit of the garage. I put on my sunglasses as the early sun blinds my vision at the exit.

  I wish I could have remained blind because the streets lie in complete chaos. It’s indescribably painful to see my home and my neighbors tearing themselves apart. Storefronts along the tall buildings are shattered open. Bodies line the streets. I see people yelling, just next to some children who are crying without anyone paying them any mind.

  “This isn't possible.” I mutter to Jon. He brings the car to a stop right outside the parking garage. His bulging eyes and slightly open mouth convey that he’s just as shocked.

  “My God, this is out of control. It seemed…more contained from so far up. It was not even this bad yesterday. We need to get out of here.” As Jon finishes his last words, I see a man point toward us. He must be approaching his twenties. The man's mouth moves, as if to shout to all of those around him. I cannot hear him. At least twenty more eyes peer at us. Most are teenagers.

  “Jon, get us out of here. What do they want?”

  He turns the car away from the strangers and hits the accelerator. “Probably a running car. Not a lot of people in the city have a car-everyone who did probably left, or at least tried.”

  Few people dwell in the opposite direction of that soon-to-be mob. I turn around and watch as the crowd of people, my age, slowly drifts away. After I breathe a sigh of relief, Jon and I exchange glances and drive forward. Young children look lost and older ones try to give comfort. Maybe they are headed to hospitals and police stations in search of some help-any help. Some seem to be all alone, and I feel horrible for them. I wish I could help all of them somehow. A few more cars pass us on the left, on the other side of the yellow line. We are all heading out of the city, and I imagine that some of these people don’t even know where their ultimate destination is.

  Jon slouches down to look at the road signs at the top of the telephone poles. “We need to get to one of the bridges.”

  Jon pulls up to a red light and the car comes to a halt. There doesn't seem to be any cross-traffic, but why chance it, I guess. There’s certainly no reason to stop for fear of the police. As we are stopped, Jon looks over to me.

  “We are gonna make it though this, I promise.” he fakes a smile. I know he means it, but this madness is far out of either of our control.

  “I know.” I say back, not making eye contact. I push my hair behind my ear and stare at the red light. Jon leans forward and squints his eyes at me. No, not at me- past me and out the window. I turn my head and see a boy waving; he is maybe 18 or 19. Behind him, there are a few others of his age. He returns Jon's look with a smile and approaches the car. Jon rolls down my window to talk to him. The boy’s head is only a few feet from my own.

  “Hey, Darry. Man! How have you been making out?” Jon asks, observing Darry’s fatigued features. He sounds almost too casual. Our father just died. Most of the city just died. My chest tightens.

  “My folks were two of the first to go, right when school was canceled. We have been managing ever since. Good to see you made it out alright.” Darry slowly responds. His sunken eyes shift to me then back to Jon. He leans in slightly and looks into the backseat. “Where are you two headed?”

  “Out of here. I thought the country may be a better place to wait this one out.” Jon answers as I nod in agreement. Dad thought we should get out to the country. Regardless, the plan seems strange to discuss with others. Darry looks to the left and his right then back to Jon.

  “That's a good idea. Sorry it's not going to work out.” Darry smirks. I am not sure what he means, but then I feel his knife resting against my throat.

  Chapter 4: Jonathon

  “Sorry to do this to ya Johnny, but I need your car. It's hard enough to find one around here, and then you come rolling up like it’s an ordinary Friday night. Get out now, unless you want to watch your sister choke on her blood.” Darry says darkly as he presses the blade against Jo's neck.

  “Darry, what are you...is this how it is now?” The words stumble from my mouth. Darry’s mouth curls and he beckons to the one woman on his left.

  “Baby, go open up the driver's door and help him out” Darry barks. Some skinny brunette moves around to the front of the car over to my side. My left hand slips down and hits the door lock. Jo looks over to me, her eyes widen. Her hand trembles in her lap and she shakes her head ever so slightly. She wants to know what I'm doing. I wish I knew. The brunette tries to open my door.

  “Darry, he locked it.” she whines. She begins to bang on the window with a fist. I look over to Darry. His upper lip twitches.

  “Do you wanna see her dead man? Do it now!” He pushes the blade into her neck. A single drop of blood slowly runs down. “I will do it Jon. Please don't test me. I have no choice.”

  “Alright! Let me get my seat belt.” I immediately reach down, but into my coat pocket. The center console hides my hand. I grip the pistol. He doesn't fall for it.

  “I wanna see your hands! Unlock your door first.” Darry yells, and the blade goes a little deeper. My sister inhales and mouths a silent scream. I freeze.

  “Sorry, sorry. I wasn't thinking.” The words rush out. My left hand goes toward the unlock button, but my right stays gripped to the handle of the revolver. I can already feel my palm sweating.

  “Now,” he yells even louder. He curses at me and points the blade at me for a second. Before he can return it to my sister's throat, I draw out the gun between the blade and my sister's head with the barrel lined up perfectly with his forehead. His jaw nearly unhinges and his eyes dilate. His blade falls to the car mats. I tilt my head forward and look at him from the tops of my eyes. I’ve never felt such concentrated rage.

  Darry stutters, frozen. “No man, I wasn't gonna do it. It was all for show.”

  “Back up!” I command venomously, unsure if my hand is shaking from the rage or the fear. My sister gasps and her hand goes to the cut on her neck. I see the trickle of blood run down her green pea coat. I consider shooting him, and my finger twitches in anticipation. I feel it tighten more and more around the trigger. The hammer begins to pull back...

  “Let's just go.” Jo yells. That was all I needed. My finger loosens and I put my foot on the accelerator and we drive off down the road. I look in the rear-view mirror and see Darry, the brunette, and the rest of his group standing in the middle of th
e road.

  We take the exit to the bridge and the next ten minutes are completely silent. We reach the other side of the bridge just before the tunnel penetrates a high hill. Surprisingly there is no one around the tunnel’s entrance. Some of the cars and crowds must have deterred people trying to find a way out. Both of my hands are shaking. The gun is on the floor next to the knife. I hate guns. My stomach leaps to my mouth so I pull over for a second. I open my door and run around the car to the side of the bridge. The river is far below, but I can hear the sound of the rushing water. It doesn’t help calm me down; I vomit.

  Reaching into my pocket, I pull out an old receipt and wipe my mouth. It's not the best method, but it cleans me up. I crush it into a ball and throw it below. I don't think the police will be giving me a fine for littering today. I feel a hand on my back.

  “You did what you had to do,” Jo calmly says.

  “It's not what I did. It's what I almost did. I wanted to shoot him. All I wanna do is go back there and put a bullet in his head. He hurt you. He lied to me.” I take a few breaths, realizing how much my anger is coming through in my words. “Who else is he now going to hurt?”

  “Maybe now he will think twice. And I am okay. It’s not deep - it already stopped bleeding.” A maroon smudge is all that is left of where Darry cut her. I look at her neck worried. She smiles slightly. “I'll be fine. Trust me.”

  “I knew things were going to change. I never imagined like this.”

  “We will be okay.” She pats my back, and gives me a slight hug. The first she has given me in a long time. “Let's go.”

  We both get back in the car. I pick up the gun and return it to my pocket. It had been three years since I held a revolver like that. I notice Jo has the knife in her hands. It’s a small switch blade. She wipes her blood off of it and folds it into her pocket. I switch the transmission to drive and we enter the tunnel. Perhaps things are better on the other side.

  Chapter 5: Sara

  Hunger.

  I have never felt so hungry before. Mom and dad would never have allowed it. I miss them even thinking about them. It has been about one week since they died in the hospital. They died nearly minutes apart in two hospital beds right next to each other with my sister and me looking up from their feet. I cried a lot that day. So did my twin sister.

  The nurse told us to wait in the room outside. She said she would find someone to take us- to take care of us. As we waited, more and more people were rolled into the room where my parents died. They were all coughing and sweating. My sister and I stayed hand in hand as I watched the clock. The long hand went around and around. The nurse never came back.

  Finally, we walked down to the front desk. A woman was behind the counter. She was sweating, too, and looked very tired. More people were rushing into the hospital and many were shouting at her. Everyone seemed so angry. I worked up the courage and shouted, “Excuse me.”

  She continued to work. I shouted louder. She kept writing on forms and talking to the adults swarming around us. As I felt a tear run down my cheek, our eyes met. She put the phone into her chest and leaned into me. She kinda smelled and looked like she had been playing outside in the hot sun.

  “Hey, sweetie,” she coughed. I could hear a person on the phone yelling louder. She yelled back in the telephone, “Give me a minute.” Her eyes returned to me. Despite all the other people in the room she gave me her complete attention. “Do you two have somewhere you can go?” She coughed more. She sounded really bad.

  My sister was still holding on to my hand and I looked up at the nurse. I think she was a nurse, anyway. Using my hand I wiped the tears away and shook my head. I wanted to say “My grandma,” but she lived in Michigan with the rest of our family. Daddy had just been given a new job. My sister and I had only gone to one day of fourth grade before mom first got sick. We had no one. The tears began again. The lady looked at us both, and she looked sad. I could tell she wanted to help us, but she couldn't. More people pushed toward the nurse. My sister and I had to hold on to the counter so we would not be pushed away.

  She reached onto the counter and grabbed a paper and scribbled a phone number. “This is the number for people who can help you. They are gathering children like you so they can take care of you.” She finished and barely smiled at me. Then she resumed her work. I looked at my sister and I could tell she heard everything, too.

  “If they are going to take us, I want to get some things from home first.” I said.

  “I don't know. I think we should leave, Sara. That's what that woman said.” my sister responded.

  I didn't think she was right at the time and I convinced her to go back home. When we left the hospital, it was completely crazy outside. Cars were backed up and crowds walked all over. Luckily my sister remembered how to get home. Since we lived so close, my parents had walked to the hospital a few days before. I wanted them to take an ambulance then, but they said they were all busy helping more sick people.

  We pushed past others that were walking in the streets; some were in such a hurry. One man knocked me down as he passed trying to keep himself up. I watched him fall down a few steps behind us. That really scared me. Luckily, we were able to push through and made it to the apartments. It seemed like it took all day, but finally we were climbing up the stairs to the door.

  “Do you have the key mom gave us?” I asked my sister. She looked at me. Her eyes were watering and her head shook.

  “I thought you had one.” We stood there in silence at the front of our door. That door was the difference between home and the world, and I thought that if we got back inside, we could hide for a little bit more. Now, we don’t have that option. Suddenly, all the sadness and fear came upon both of us at the same time. I sat against the door and she sat beside me. We did not blame each other. We just cried and held onto one another. I thought at the time that would be the worst moment of my life. Both of us were lost without anyone, just a stupid phone number we had forgotten about at that point. We fell in and out of sleep. I thought I would never feel so hopeless.

  I was wrong.

  We woke up the next morning, curled up next to each other. Neither one of us remembered falling asleep. Luckily, the phone number was in my hand on a crumpled piece of paper. We pulled ourselves together, went down to the street, and found a boy that let us use his cell phone. He was like us, but had an older sister who was taking care of him. She didn’t want to take care of us too. The people on the other end of the phone told us to try and come to the other side of the yellow bridge. They said they were afraid to bring the bus into the city. She said buses would be going around the city all day and night looking for children like us. I felt a little better then. Maybe we can just escape the city.

  They were right about being scared of the city. My sister and I almost didn't make it between all of the angry and sick people as we walked through the streets. We passed many kids that were just sitting and crying. My sister and I promised each other we would be better than that. Sitting and crying was not an option anymore. Finally, after what felt like forever we made it to the end of the yellow bridge that the woman on the phone mentioned. We just waited.

  During the first day many cars and groups of people passed us. Now, just one or two come out. I don't think any of them can see us because they just drive past me, even when I wave. No bus has passed by yet.

  We have waited for three days.

  I peer over the bridge and look back at my sister who is lying on the sidewalk with her dirty and tangled hair strewn around her head. Tear stains on her cheeks show what color her pale skin was before it became brown from the dirt. Her clothes are dirty too, just like mine. Luckily mom and dad had dressed us warm, so when we huddled together the past few nights, we didn’t get too cold. We didn’t want to miss the bus so we stayed on the dusty street-occasionally taking turns to get drinks from the river.

  I sit down on the sidewalk beside my sister. Just as I pull a broken leaf from my sister’s hair, a
car comes down the bridge. I gave up waving a while back so I just look at it with my eyes. The car slows down!

  I think they see us! I shake my sister's head, and just as she looks up, the car pulls over on the other side of the road. A man gets out of the car and walks to the other side of the bridge, leaving his door open. Then I see a girl with beautiful red hair get out and join the man, leaving the car alone. I wish my hair was like that. I do not like how dark it is sometimes.

  As they get farther from the car, my heart starts to beat a little faster. I tug on my sister’s shirt to get her attention, and we slowly stand up together. I glance back and forth between the car and the man, afraid of what could happen if this doesn’t work. With no clear reason, I grab my sister’s hand and run softly toward the car.

  “What are you doing?” my sister whispers.

  “Shh...we will crawl into the back behind the seats. They have to take us. I don't wanna get left.” My sister gets into the car and climbs behind the back seat. I start to go in, but then I see a gun. I hesitate, but it’s too late, my sister is already in. I follow her and sit behind the back seat. I put my arm over her and we lean our backs against it. We’ll be hard to see now.

  I hear them get in. My mind is still focused on the gun; it scares me. I hold my sister tighter and put my finger to my lips. She nods at me. I won't let anyone hurt my twin sister, and I know she won't let anyone hurt me.

  Everything gets dark as we enter the tunnel.

  Chapter 6: Jocelyn

  I hope Jon is alright. He will be. He always manages to take care of himself.

  I fold the knife and put it in my pocket after wiping the blood off with a rag in the glove compartment. Just wiping it once removed any trace of it from the blade. The knife may come in handy in the future and if my brother has a gun, I at least want a knife. Although, maybe I should take the gun if it’s going to keep bothering him. I know it must be difficult for him to even have it in his pocket.