A Matter of Days (20 page)

“I’m getting better?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” she said, before closing her eyes and sliding back into sleep.

“You gonna tell her?” Rabbit whispered.

“Yeah, maybe.” I was afraid to let go of the breath I held in my lungs like a security blanket. Would she get better?

For a week she ate and grew stronger. And just about the time I thought I should show her the box, Bean’s letter, and the gun, I found her collapsed outside the bathroom.

“Rabbit!” I shouted.

He helped me drag her back to her bed.

Tears ran down his face. “It didn’t work. It didn’t work,” he muttered to himself.

Her temperature skyrocketed, and fireworks of blood and fluids began erupting under her skin until she looked like she was covered in blue cheetah-print pajamas. I waited too long.

“Nadia, listen to me.” She grabbed my hand to still my motions.

“What?”

“Sit down. I’m lucid, but the dreams are bad, so what’s my fever, 104?”

“Sometimes.”

“Sore throat, headache, canker blisters, cough, blue star-shaped bruising. The only thing I don’t have yet is the bleeding from my nose and ears. But that won’t happen until the end.”

“Don’t say that. You’re getting better.” Tears streamed down my face.

“I have at least two broken bones from the coughing. We have to talk about what to do when I get too sick.”

“Mom—”

“Nadia, I know what I have; we both know what I have. I’m going to die, so we need to talk about what you’re going to do next. Like we should have talked when your daddy died. I’m so sorry, honey. I couldn’t face a day without him. I couldn’t talk about life without him.”

“Mom—”

“I’m sorry, Nadia. I should have sent you to Bean when he came to see me at the hospital.”

“What?”

“He tried to tell me.”

“I didn’t know.”

“I wouldn’t listen. But get paper, you should write some of this down. Let’s talk about how long you can stay here.”

As I shivered and slept, sweated and dreamed, I vaguely recognized hands soothing me, pressing cool cloths to my face, spooning pine-flavored soup into my mouth.

“You’re going to poison her with that stuff.”

“No, I’m not. It’s spruce tea. Very high in vitamin C. Dad made it for me once.”

“How do you know which tree to use?”

I wanted to ask that too, but I didn’t hear the answer.

I sank back into oblivion.

The whoop of helicopters dropping giant confetti papers in all colors. First they were pale green, then yellow, then orange, and red.
Do not go to hospitals. Stay in your homes, doctors will come to you soon. Evacuate to the nearest landmark—the Space Needle—for relocation and medical care
. Then the helicopters stopped coming.…

Boil all water before use to stop the spread of the pathogen.… The European Union has closed its borders; all air travel has been grounded. The President of the United States will be making a State of the Union address tonight
. “My fellow Americans, we face the greatest health crisis of the twenty-first century, perhaps of all time.”

The lights blinked out and the water stopped running from the faucets.

… “Oh God, make it stop.” Mom cried in pain as blood dripped out of her ears.

“Mom, Bean gave me pills for all of us. Do you want them?”

“Medicine?” she croaked.

I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud.
To kill you. Us
. “To stop the pain.”

“Show me.”

I went to my room and brought out the box. She was sleeping when I got back to her room, but she wakened. “Read me the labels.”

I did the best I could to pronounce the drug names and read her Bean’s written instructions. I thought she wasn’t listening until I noticed the tears leaking down her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, Nadia. So sorry.”

“Mom?”

“I should have trusted Bean and taken the shot. Put those away. They’re too tempting.” She groaned again as another wave of pain twisted her limbs into unnatural angles.

“Mom? Are you sure?”

“I can’t, Nadia. Your father would hate me if I gave up and left you. If I die, then I’ll die, but I’m not leaving you to have to pick up the pieces and carry the guilt of giving me those meds.”

“Should I give them to Rabbit?”

“How can I ask that of you?”

“I’m asking you.”

“Keep them. But try. You have to try. Then, if you think you have no way to survive, then yes, you need to know that your dad and I wouldn’t want either of you to suffer needlessly. We’ll wait for you and if that means we see you when you’re old and have grandchildren, we’ll be there. And if that means we all spend Christmas together this year, then we’ll be right there with you.”

“You’re talking like you’re already—”

“I’ve watched patients with this for days now. I know what’s coming. Sleep. Now I’ll sleep.”

I dragged myself back to my bedroom and put the box back into my underwear drawer. I slid to the floor. I pulled my knees up under
my chin and tucked my head against them. “Daddy, I can’t do this. Why do I have to do this?” I cried deep racking sobs.

My tears burned my sensitive skin like acid as I blinked my eyes open. I closed them quickly, wishing for oblivion again.

Someone put liquid to my mouth and told me, “Drink.”

“Let me go.” I pleaded in my stupor with my father, my mother, my brother, even Al, who danced and sang, “When you call my name, it’s like a little prayer.…”

“I
’m not hungry.” I shoved the instant oatmeal away without opening my eyes.

“You have to eat.”

“Come on, Nadia, eat!” Rabbit pleaded.

My eyelids were caked and cracking with gunk, as if they’d been glued together ages ago. I rubbed my hands on my face. My skin was scaly and chapped. I caught a whiff of my body odor and illness stench.

“Eat, drink, get married!” a squeaky voice proclaimed.

“Al?” I asked, trying to turn my head toward the sound.

“Yeah, he came back.” Rabbit smiled. “I guess he flew out, but didn’t go far.”

Where would he go? Where can any of us go?

My bladder screamed in protest with my movements. “Um, I need to—”

Zack leaned down and tried to help me stand. My legs felt like barely set Jell-O. He all but carried me outside and over to a clump of bushes. My head felt as if I wore a cement helmet.

“How long have I been sick?” I mumbled.

“Three days. I found an old minivan about five miles from here plus some Tylenol that seemed to help your fever.”

“I can do it from here.” My face burned with the knowledge that I had to pee in front of Zack.

He turned around and gave me his back. If it hadn’t been such a dire necessity I’m sure the pee would have climbed back up inside me rather than tinkle and splash within his earshot.

I used a couple of leaves to wipe. I barely got my pants buttoned back up before my energy flagged. I stumbled into Zack and he caught me.

“We have to get going tonight,” he said, as he helped me back toward our little cave. “We’ve stayed too long and most of the farms around here have been picked clean. I think it’s a high traffic area.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

“We’re almost out of water and food. I’m sorry, Nadia, I wish we could stay here longer. Give you time to rest more.”

“It’s okay.”

“Hopefully, we’ll find beds and supplies to clean up with.”

“I know I smell.” My nose wrinkled.

“We all do.” Zack laughed. “Cancels it all out.”

“Good to know.” I tried to smile. “How is Patty?”

“She’s a trouper. I found coloring supplies in the van and she’s been ‘colorfying’ princesses for you. You’re her hero.”

I stumbled. “I had to shoot a guy.”

“I know. I’m glad you had the gun.”

“I wish …” I trailed off. I couldn’t do it differently, could I?

“Don’t.” Zack stopped and pulled me tight against him, partly to prop me up and partly to emphasize his words. “I’ve killed too. It’s necessary for survival. Maybe more now than ever. You can’t carry guilt, or wishes, or anything. You have to let it go. You didn’t have a choice. Focus on that.”

“I’d do it again, but that doesn’t change the fact that I wish survivors were good people and we could work together to rebuild.”

“Welcome to Realityville,” Zack said. “Maybe somewhere we’ll find good peeps.”

I leaned against a bench, getting a sense of how little there was left at camp. “Let’s load up and go. Now.”

“Are you sure?” Zack frowned.

“Yeah, I am.”

I slept in the backseat of the minivan while everyone else packed the meager remains of our supplies, including Al’s cage and a bleached bone Twawki had dug up from a garbage pile behind the concessions.

“We’ll go as far as we can on a tank of gas. Keep your eyes peeled for other travelers or supply haunts, okay?” Zack instructed Rabbit and Patty.

Miles rolled past. I didn’t have the energy to do more than sit in the backseat with Patty and watch the countryside cruise by. Rabbit rode shotgun and navigated with a map that he found crumpled up in the glove box.

Zack shook his head. “Hawk? Why the love of maps? It’s kinda strange. Helpful, but weird.”

Rabbit shrugged and I listened carefully for his answer. “My dad. Didn’t like the GPS things, said they made people stupid. He wanted me to be able to get around. Took me up into the mountains to camp.”

“You’re not supposed to call people stupid,” Patty chimed in. “
Stupid
is a bad word.”

“Okay, kid. No one’s stupid,” Zack assured her with a barely suppressed laugh. I wondered if he’d ever spent time around little girls who thought the world was filled with unicorns and castles.

“Cars up ahead.” Rabbit pointed.

At the first cluster of cars we stopped, checked the trunks for gas cans and supplies. There was one can and half a tank full of gas among all of the cars. We split a gallon of water and had half an energy bar each. Zack took a bite and gave Patty the rest of his share.

We slept that night with the seats folded down, huddled against each other, our stomachs vying for whose-growled-the-loudest. The jangling of the ride drained what little energy I had and I fell into a troubled sleep faster than the rest.

I was not sure Zack slept at all that night. When he saw me watching him in the early morning light, he tried to smile before we set off again.

I must have slept more in the heat and the rhythm of the drive, because the next thing I heard, Zack declared, “There’s a town up ahead. I think we have to check it out.”

I heard Zack’s stomach rumble and mine answered. I thought only yawns were contagious.

“We have to go into the next town?” Rabbit’s voice was part surrender and part trepidation. I understood his desire to avoid any surprises.

“Odds aren’t good we’ll find anything or anyone.” I didn’t
want to say much in front of Patty, but we were learning that the farther into populated areas we moved, the more stripped the world became. More people meant more survivors, which meant less to go around.

“I know, but we have to try.” Zack switched off driving with Rabbit. I knew I didn’t trust my weakened state behind the wheel, so I was glad I wasn’t asked.

Starting in the outskirts, we drove in blocks searching for any people, any signs that there might be danger. Nothing. Not even packs of dogs or cats.

“There are big stores way down there in that shopping center.”

“We can try ’em. Maybe something was overlooked.”

Twawki’s stomach rumbled louder than the rest of ours and Al picked through crumbs between the seats before unearthing an ancient French fry to gnaw on.

We turned into the main parking lot of an old strip mall that was several city blocks in length. Besides stores that used to sell books, clothes, and groceries, there was a chain pet store anchoring the far end. Most were boarded up and had spray-painted notes on the walls declaring
EMPTY
, or
REPENT
, or
FORGIVE US
.
Lovely
.

“Look! What are all those?” Patty leaned forward in her seat, pointing.

As we drew nearer, we saw stainless steel and porcelain bowls of all sizes lined up along the walls and under the covered walkway. The doors of the store were boarded up like the others. Sprayed in red paint across it was the word
EMPTY
.

The entire complex seemed deserted behind the plywood and I wasn’t sure how we were supposed to get past the grocery-carts, metal cans, and lumber scraps barricading the doorway.

Rabbit sighed. “Should we try to go in and see if there’s dog food, just in case?”

Zack nodded. “Yeah, I think we should.”

“We don’t have the right tools,” I said.

“We have a bar and our hands. Come on, let’s try.” Zack hopped out and listened for others, any sign that someone considered this their territory and might protect it. Who knew what or who made the laws these days, let alone enforced ’em.

Rabbit and I climbed out, putting Patty on watch while the rest of us tried moving the piles of cardboard, carts, and wood scraps out of the way.

I dragged a puny stack of cardboard away. A dripping sweat reminded me that I was nowhere near fighting form.

“Take a seat,” Zack commanded, and I didn’t have the heart to argue. I squatted next to Patty, trying to stay focused and awake.