Plagued (2 page)

Albert sighed and looked up into her eyes, a
solemn expression on his face. Frown lines appeared on his forehead,
accentuated by the shadows. “I don’t know where your family are, dear, and I
don’t want to lie to you,” he said. “All I do know is that things are
bad
out
there. In a few days, most of the population of Winding were running around
like maniacs in the streets. TV stations stopped broadcasting the same day and
electricity went out the day after. Phones went out on the third day, but
before that, no one was picking up. There wasn't even time for an emergency
broadcast. The lucky ones of us ran for cover and hiding here is what we have
been doing since.”
“So, what happened to me after I met Mark? I don't remember anything at all.”
“That is another story altogether,” Albert said, pulling himself to his feet, “which
I will tell you later. I know you must have many questions, but you must rest.
You are a
very
lucky woman to be alive, more than you know. I don't want
to exert you too much.”
Sarah opened her mouth to protest.
“I will explain more later on, I promise. You can go see Mark, he’ll be happy
to hear you’re awake and doing fine. Please for now, just rest. When you wake,
I will be in the other room cooking something to eat. I will answer everything
I can then.”
Sarah nodded, defeated. Truth be told, she was exhausted. The old man smiled
kindly at her, his fading blue eyes filled with warmth. He left the jug of
water at her bedside and walked away, his slippers shuffling rhythmically.

She lay back in bed as Albert closed the door
gently, trying to make sense of all she had heard from a man who was a stranger
until ten minutes before. Something told her that he was telling the truth,
even if she didn’t want it to be. As she thought about all he'd told her and
imagined the world he’d described, she covered herself in the sheet and fell to
sleep.

It was warm in his arms,
safe
. She had
never felt as protected or loved in her whole life as she had when she met him.
His lips pressed gently against her forehead. She looked up into his deep brown
eyes. She'd always loved those eyes. His face was clean-shaven and his hair was
black — short at the sides and slightly messy on top. She had always thought he
was the most handsome man on the planet.
He started to speak, his mouth moving slowly but not a single sound escaped his
lips. Thinking that the sound of her own breathing was drowning out his words,
she held her breath but it was as though his volume had been turned to zero.

“I can’t hear you,” she said. She watched his
mouth open and close and tried desperately to read his lips.
Suddenly, his face changed — the once bare skin on his jaw sprouted dark hairs before
her eyes. Small patches of dust and dirt covered his face and body, darkening
his complexion. His forehead creased with lines as he frowned and his eyes grew
wide in fear. He looked around the room, speaking more silent words. He stood
up, his head turning frantically around the room.
“What's wrong?” she asked, standing in front of him.

His face was directly in front of hers now, inches
apart, but he showed no recognition in his eyes, it was like he was looking
straight through her.
Before Sarah could react, Jack’s mouth opened again but this time she heard
every word.
“Where are you, Sarah?” he shouted. “I can't find you.”

~

“Jack!”
Sarah jumped up and realized it was a dream. She was back in Alfred's basement,
sitting up in bed, and sweating profusely. It was cold and damp against her
skin and the salt made the cuts and sores on her body sting. She could still
hear Jack's voice echoing around her head.
Where is he? Is he alive?
An overwhelming sense of urgency washed over her and she climbed out of bed,
ignoring the pain that shot through her aching body. She bent down slowly and rummaged
in the end table at the side of her bed, looking for something to wear. The
cold hit her naked body hard but she ignored it and the goose bumps that had
appeared on her arms and legs. She opened the drawer and found some neatly
folded stonewashed jeans, a white vest and some socks. She couldn’t remember
what she had been wearing in town that day and neither did she care, with more
effort than usual, she pulled on the clothes.
Under the bed, she found a size-five pair of tan hiking boots and slipped them
on. All of the clothes smelled fresh and had a slight floral fragrance, Albert
had clearly washed them.
As she tied her shoelaces slowly and painfully, Albert entered the room with another
jug of water but before he could speak, Sarah asked, “Where is Jack?”
Albert sighed heavily. “You were alone when we found you, dear. You spoke that
name many times in your sleep,” he said. “Who is he?”
“My boyfriend,” Sarah said, her disappointment showing in her face. “I can’t
remember whether he was with me in town before I blacked out. I can’t remember
a lot of stuff, actually.”
“I'm sure he's fine, dear, don't worry about that now,” Albert smiled as
reassuringly as he could. “Are you ready for your first breakfast in months? We
have cereal — it's a little stale, I won’t lie. The milk is powdered but it's
all we have. Unfortunately, there are no cows running around the streets,” he chuckled.

“There’s also some packet noodles, they’re not
take-away quality but it’s food,” he added.
In the shock, Sarah had forgotten about food but the mention of it sent her
stomach rumbling. An image of a greasy double-cheeseburger flashed in her mind,
causing her mouth to water.
“That would be lovely, thank you. I forgot how hungry I am,” she said politely.
“I'm not surprised. You were on a drip for months before you came round enough
for us to start feeding you. Thank goodness the hospital isn't far away or I
don't know how we would have kept you alive! Come this way,” Albert said,
stretching his hand towards the door.
There were three small rooms in Albert's basement; the one she had been
sleeping in was the largest. Sarah followed Albert out of the room and into a
very small hallway. The floor was concrete and the walls were in the same
condition as the one she slept in — cracked and very damp. Her boots crumpled
over small stones and rubble as she walked.
She stopped to look at a set of stairs ascending to the right, which Sarah
assumed led up into the main house. The doors were blocked with wood and a
small but heavy-looking cabinet leaned against it.
Looks like they don’t go
out much.
 
Albert, with his uncanny mind-reading abilities, said, “We try not to leave
here often, only to get food. Finding you was the last time we went out
searching for survivors, that was back when there were more of us. It seemed
foolish to do it again after that.”
Another door was open to the left — a dark, dusty room with two small beds
inside. They walked past it and Albert opened the last door at the end of the
hall. A warm, flickering light flowed from the gap under it.
They have
electricity?

Albert opened the door, causing light to flood the dimly lit hallway. Sarah
winced, this room was much brighter than the one she had been in.
“Our guest is awake!” the old man proclaimed cheerfully.
A man sat at a table in the middle of the room, watching them. One of his tanned
arms rested next to a glass of water on the table-top. His  hair, long and
straight enough to skim his shoulders, was the most unusual colour Sarah had
ever seen — a rich copper that looked more red than ginger. Sarah admired its
beauty as he flicked his head to remove it from his eyes.
Seeing his guest, the man pushed the chair he sat on backwards and stood up,
offering her his hand.
“Ah! It’s nice to see you up and around! I really didn't think you would be up
to it today but I’m glad that you are— do you remember me?” Mark asked
cheerfully.
Sarah offered her hand in return, noticing how small hers was in comparison to
his. He was well built —his arms and shoulders so muscular that they clung to
his shirt as he moved.

“Yes, I remember you. You saved my life.
Twice
,
I’m told.” Sarah said, glancing at Albert with a smile.
Mark shook her hand gently and motioned towards a chair for her to sit down. They
sat down together.  
“That’s okay. I was in the area anyway,” he laughed. “How are you feeling? Or
is that a stupid question?”
Sarah laughed in spite of the pain it caused in her chest. “I'm...okay. Felt
better but I'll live.”
Mark eyed her curiously and Sarah blushed under his gaze, her cheeks felt hot
and she fidgeted with her hands under the table. His eyes were the lightest blue
she had ever seen, almost grey in colour.
Becoming very aware of her own body, she noticed how the clothes that had once
fit perfectly, now hung loose.
I must have been really ill
. Shyness came
over her under his scrutiny and she shrunk into her shoulders as she irrationally
worried about her appearance.
Mark noticed her smile disappear and let go of her hand suddenly.
“I didn't hurt you, did I?” he asked, his voice sincere. “I’m sorry if I did. I
know how weak you must be after what you’ve been through.”
Albert had moved over to the long counter at the end of the room, which was
covered in pans and pots, and had put a small black kettle on a portable stove
that sat in the corner. A saucepan resting on the stove began to boil.
“My son doesn't have my lean physique, as you can see,” he said, motioning over
his body with his hands. “Unfortunately for him he takes after his mother, in
that respect.”

Sarah and Mark both laughed at his remark and Mark
shook his head, rolling his eyes at Sarah in fake exasperation.
“No, you didn't hurt me. I was just thinking of how much weight I’ve lost, I
feel
so
weak. Though from the sounds of it I haven’t eaten in a while,”
Sarah said. Becoming aware of the intense growling in her stomach, she added, “Something
smells wonderful!”
“My father has become an amazing chef. He can boil noodles like no one else,”
Mark laughed. “Of course, that's all we have that hasn’t gone off or turned
stale, so we have no choice really.”
“Yes,” Albert said, lifting the steaming pot from the stove, “we have plenty of
dried noodles. After this nightmare, I don't think I'll ever eat them again.”
He poured some noodles into the three bowls on the table. A faint smell of
chicken and some herbs rose up. Sarah's stomach rumbled in reply. She thanked
him and they all picked up their forks and began eating.
Sarah ate quickly, realizing just how hungry she had been. Her senses came
alive and the smell of the powdered chicken intensified her hunger with each
bite. Even after just one mouthful, she felt energized, the food doing its job
straight away.  
After a while of eating in silence, they all finished their noodles and Albert
took the dishes away. Sarah felt refreshed from the food and water and her mood
improved because of it.  
Mark turned back to her. “So, how much has my dad told you? About what's been
happening?”
“Pretty much everything I can,” Albert said, sitting back in his seat.
“He filled in the gaps for me. I don't think I've thanked you yet for that, I
would be dead without you,” Sarah said quietly.
“You don't have to thank me, I saw you there lying in the street and I couldn’t
leave you. You collapsed again on the way to the hospital so I carried you to
meet my dad and Simon, a friend of ours. It turns out it was a bite on your arm,
you were infected. Dad wanted me to leave you in case you got up and uh…tried
to eat us,” Mark said, pointing to her arm.
Sarah gasped, subconsciously holding her hand over the bite, she had forgotten
all about it. Thoughts whirled around in her head so quickly she couldn't
decide what to ask first. Fear panged in her chest.
Albert nodded gravely. “Yes, I did. I'm sorry for that. You have to understa—”
“It's okay.” Sarah interrupted, smiling at him. “You don't have to explain
yourself. I just don't understand.
Was
I infected?”
Albert looked at Mark, raising his eyebrows in question. Mark returned the look
and nodded.
“Yes. You
were
infected. This is the hard part to explain — you see,
when they brought you in, I checked your body and you had the sores and fever
that we’d seen in the others but you weren't awake...or trying to kill us,” Albert
laughed nervously. “I tried to rouse you but you were in a deep sleep. I
thought that maybe we had found you early on in the disease and maybe we could
help you. So I carried you here…well Simon and Mark did.”
Sarah stared at him, her mouth agape and nodded for him to continue.
“We got back, boarded up the door and put you in the spare room. We disinfected
the wound and gave you a drip since you were sweating like crazy. We were still
unsure of what was going to happen, whether you were going to get up and start
attacking us so we tied you down. Sorry about that,” he said apologetically.

Sarah waved her hand, dismissing it.
“Then it got worse; after a few hours you began thrashing around in the bed,
shouting and swearing at us. Nothing you said made any sense though, it was
just ramblings. We thought we were too late. Then as quickly as you started,
you stopped again. You fell into a deep sleep — like a coma — and have stayed
that way ever since. I’ll admit I was intrigued by your condition so we kept
you alive on a drip. After a few months, your sores started to heal! We
couldn't believe it. We kept you hydrated and cleaned your sores every day,
hoping that you'd pull out of it. We didn't think that was possible but after
you started healing, we started to think that you would. It was a miracle. We
were spoon-feeding you at that point, it was amazing.”
“So the disease dies off eventually?” Sarah asked, frowning with confusion.
“Well, that’s the funny thing. We've never seen another person recover at all. Everyone
I’ve witnessed that’s come in contact with their blood or saliva just get worse
and worse until they die or turn crazy, like the ones that attacked you.
Sometimes it takes minutes, sometimes hours. We didn't even consider someone
could survive. Maybe you have some kind of natural immunity to it—at least
enough to fight it off or get a diminished form of the disease.”  
Sarah gasped. “Immunity? Is that even possible?”
“We didn't think so but obviously you are. We see it with our own eyes. Here
you are now, talking and eating as normal. That's the only explanation. This
also means you are very valuable,” he said, grasping her hand on the table and
giving it a squeeze excitedly.
“Why?” Sarah asked, becoming increasingly confused.
“Because, my dear, if you have the anti-bodies to fight it off or an immunity
to ever catching it again, maybe something in your blood can cure it or at
least protect against it. You could be the link that saves a lot of lives,”
Albert said, his face serious.
Sarah was gob-smacked. She had been awake for less than an hour and already found
out that she had a fatal disease that had possibly decimated the entirety of
England. Not only that, but that she had survived it. Everything felt like a
dream.
Maybe I can save people
.

“So what do we do now? Isn’t there anyone left
that can do something with this?” she asked.

“Now, I’m a general practitioner, usually the
things I see already have names, but I was hoping to try and at least find out
what exactly
it
is. It presents with a lot of different symptoms that
could be a number of different things. The strangest though are the sores, when
I saw them I instantly thought of the bubonic plague!” Albert said loudly,
still in disbelief.

Sarah stared at him, giving him her full
attention. Her mind was reeling.

“But despite the similarities, it is like nothing
I’ve ever seen before,” Albert continued. “The first step is to try and
identify what it actually is —a virus, bacterial or even parasitical —and then
of course,
why
you recovered from it. If that’s all okay with you, dear?”
“That's fine. It's the least I can do after all you've done for me. Do you
think there’s anyone left who could do all that?” Sarah asked.
“I don't know, there might be, God willing. I have a small setup in the other
room that I borrowed from the hospital, just a microscope kit and some extras. There’s
not a lot I can do but it’s a start. I feel that us stumbling upon you is a sign.
It's fate. So we have to try,” Albert said.