My Dead World (4 page)

It started to rain, which was typical for Pittsburgh weather. The gray skies added a gloomy look to all that was going on. My girls were upset which was evident by their silence. The first ten minutes in the car they cried, then nothing. The squeaky windshield wipers added a sort of backbeat to the, ‘Best of Neil Sedaka’ music my father played.

I hated living in the city, so I moved south. It was the first time I wished I lived in the city. To get to the cabin we had to go through downtown and hopefully catch the expressway to the interstate.

Traffic moved slowly, but it moved on the way into town.

Once things calmed down, I pulled out the first aid kit and decided to work on Paul’s injury. He washed down four ibuprofen with the vodka. Lisa had stronger pills, but Paul said he’d rather wait in case he needed them.

“How are you?” I asked Paul in a whisper.

“I’m okay.” He said breathy.

I knew he wasn’t. His face was pale, he wasn’t breathing right and his eyes were bloodshot.

“It hurts really bad,” he said.

“Let me take a look.” I rested his arm between us on the seat. The second I touched his arm to undo the towel, I felt the hotness of his skin. I reached up and touched his forehead. “You have a fever.”

From the front seat, Lisa said, “It’s pain. Pain can do that.”

“It’s a bite,” my father said. “A human bite is the worst. You took the antibiotics to the cabin, right? We’ll make sure he takes them when we get there.”

I don’t know what I was expecting, maybe to pull the towel back and see a circle of teeth marks. But when I removed the expedient bandage, a chuck of flesh flapped out. It was still attached to his arm by a thread of skin.

“Oh my God,” I gasped and gagged.

Blood oozed out. And using my finger I flipped the piece of flesh back into place.

“Mommy, what is it?” Addy asked.

“It’s okay, baby.” I said, looking at Paul. I had to take a moment. “Dad?”

“Yeah.”

“I think he needs to go to a hospital.”

“We can’t take him to a hospital Niles,” my father said. “If there are sick there, we all risk infection. Plus they’re shutting down the city soon.”

“But his arm, he needs stitches. He has … there’s a piece of his arm that needs sewn back on.”

Addy and Katie both groaned out ‘ohs’ of disgust.

“Super glue it,” my father said. “There’s super glue in that kit. Super glue it. It’s the best we can do.”

I looked at Paul, wanting him to give me an answer. “If you want to go to a hospital we’ll take you.”

“No.” He shook his head. “We have meds at the cabin. Glue it.”

I fumbled nervously for the kit. At that point we had entered the tunnels and knew I had to wait until we went through. The lighting was off, half of them didn’t work, and as we drove there was a strobe effect adding an eeriness to Paul, as he stared at me with glossy eyes.

Once out of the tunnel I gathered my courage to work on him.

“Do you need help?” Lisa asked.

“No, no, I can do this,” I said.

The first thing I did was prep the super glue, removed the cap and had it ready. I then lay his arm over the towel. Gently I poured water over the wound to wash away the excess blood. It still bled, but it had stopped flowing out.

My hands shook out of control and I did the best I could to run a line of super glue over the circumference of the wound. It would take a few seconds to dry, especially with the blood. After a minute or two I watched the skin tighten and pull around the glue.

We moved at a turtles pace toward the express way, but we were moving. I prayed we’d get out of the city.

Once I knew the super glue was holding, using gauze, I gently cleaned around the bite and bandaged his arm.

Paul thanked me and rested his head against the window.

“Is daddy okay?” Addy asked.

“Yeah, he’s resting.” I replied. It was then I noticed Neil Sedaka was still playing. “Dad, can you see if there’s anything else on the radio?”

“There’s nothing on the radio, Niles.”

“Can you try?’

“Fine. But I like this song. It’s not gloomy.” He switched off the album and scanned the stations.

“Authorities are urging everyone to stay in their homes …” Switch. “Not the outbreak, but rather riots of desperation …” Switch. “Rumors have it that Mercy Hospital, is not accepting patients at this time and Allegheny General, is not far behind ….” Switch. “Stay calm. This virus will get out of control if we are on the streets spreading it.”

Off.

“The girls don’t need to hear that,” my father said.

Switch.

‘Come a come a down doobie do down, down,” sang Neil Sedaka.

I sat back.

“Can I smoke?” Lisa asked. “Mind if I smoke? I know the girls are in the car, but I need to smoke.”

“Smoke.” I said. “Go on.”

I was able to relax, we were clear sailing on the express way. Another hour we’d be at the cabin, if we kept up the speed.

Looking out my window, I saw military trucks heading toward the city. We had made it out in the nick of time.

Paul groaned, shuffling in his seat some. I reached out to touch him and quickly retracted my hand. He was hot, burning up.

Twenty minutes later we were safely on the interstate. There were very few cars and once we crossed the county line my father pulled off the next exit.

He had to use the rest room and didn’t think he’d make it to the cabin.  The exit was far enough removed from the city, and the small gas station and quick shop was operating as if all were normal.

“We might as well top her off,” my father said. “I’ll go pay inside, Niles, get ready to pump when you see it’s authorized.”

I stepped outside and waited by the pump, getting the hose ready. My father walked in and spoke to the person at the register for a few moments. I watched as he looked up, maybe watching a television before he walked away.

Pump authorized.

I put the hose in the tank, selected the grade and flipped the auto switch.

That was when my phone rang.

“Bobby,” I sighed out in relief.

“Are you out of the city?”

“Yeah, just outside of Cranberry. We made it out safely.”

“Good,” he said. “As soon as I’m out of here, I’ll head up to join you. Are you guys okay?”

“Yes.” I paused. “No. Paul. He was at work. There was violence. He tried to break up a fight and he … he got bit.”

“Bit?”

“I know it sounds insane …”

“How bad?”

I hovered my hand over the phone as if someone would hear. “Bad. I super glued him back together. But he has an infection. I think. He’s fevered.”

“Did he say if the person that bit him was ill?”

“No, he didn’t.”

“Good. It may just be an infection from a human bite. But if it’s the virus, know he has a chance of not getting it. He may have immunities.”

“Bobby, cut the shit,” I said. “I need to know what this is. My husband is bit and burning up with fever. I watched a car crash and the guy got out of the crash and attacked people. You always said we can’t run from a virus, yet you want us to go to the cabin and wait this out. Get ammo, fortify the cabin. Be straight with me, is this a zombie apocalypse?”

Bobby laughed.

“I’m serious, Bobby. I watched movies.”

“Nilie, for real? Are you seriously asking me if the dead are rising and eating people?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how medically and biologically impossible that is?”

“Yes.”

“This is not a zombie apocalypse. This is not the dead rising … this is … about as close as you can get.”

I sighed and backed up against the SUV.

My father walked from the station and to the vehicle. “That Bobby?”

I nodded.

“Let me know what he’s saying. Gas is done.” My father pointed.

I lifted the hose and hung it, then replaced the gas cap. Once my father was in the SUV, I stepped a few feet away. “What are we dealing with? Be honest.”

“Something I have never seen.”

“Jesus, Bobby, leave the melodramatics behind. Give it to me straight.”

“The infected eventually die. It takes about ten days. They succumb. But it’s best to kill them so they don’t infect more. The more they infect the longer the outbreak will last and the longer you have to wait it out.”

“Kill them? Meaning shoot them in the head?”

“Fuck, Niles, they aren’t zombies. They’re people. They don’t need shot in the head to die. They’re already half way there, they just don’t know it,” Bobby said. “This thing is everywhere. Without a bite, say you’re exposed through getting spit or blood on you, it will start like the flu. Aches, fever, headache. It’s like a hemorrhagic fever. Bloody vomit, diarrhea. The virus hits the brain like rabies causing extreme, violent behavior. While all this happens, the virus causes nerve and tissue death, necrosis sets in. It spreads. Your heart beats, lungs breathe, but every ounce of your flesh is dead. Peeling, splitting. You’re so out of it, you have no idea how close to death you are. You just attack. Maybe out of pain, out of rage. Who knows? Their weakness, like with rabies, is hydrophobia. Fear of liquids. They stop drinking, stay away from water. Dehydration and the virus kills them.”

“But we should kill them first?”

“Remember how we used to look at all the stories of bath salt killings. How maddening those people were and unaware? That’s what we’re dealing with. Imagine them in a group. Imagine how much damage a group of infected can cause.”

I closed my eyes. “How about someone that got it through a bite? What happens?”

“There’s a chance they won’t get it. We have seen immune people. They die from the wound and never catch the virus. But if they do, all those symptoms just happen faster.”

I turned and looked in the SUV, Paul was sleeping. “Is this how it’s being handled? Kill the sick? The CDC is just shooting them?”

“We’re trying to beat this, Niles. But in the meantime it’s the only way to stop the spread. They may be alive, they may look like someone you know, but they are a shell.”

“How will I know if Paul has it?”

“Before he gets violent, before he turns, you’ll see bruise like marks on his body. Particularly on limbs he hasn’t moved. That’s the tissue dying, gravity is drawing down the blood. He’ll start throwing up, stop drinking. He’ll have violent outbursts that will come and go until they eventually stay for good.”

“What should I do?”

“For the sake of the girls, end it for him before he can hurt anyone. It’ll be hard, but it has to be done.”

End it? Seriously? End it like killing him?

He delivered his advice with a coolness that I never heard in my brother’s voice. My father impatiently wanted to get moving, but I didn’t want to speak in the car for fear the girls or Paul would interpret what was being said.

We ended the conversation and Bobby reminded me to charge the satellite phone.

Wait it out, he said. Give the infected time to die out. It could take weeks, if not longer. Monitor the radio and the news while it’s on. He assured me he’d be there long before that.

I put the phone in my pocket and got back in the car.

“What did he say?” my father asked.

I connected with his eyes as he looked in the rearview mirror. After pointing to the girls, I said, “I’ll tell you when we get there.”

My father accepted that and pulled from the service station.

Paul was restless, I grabbed his jacket to cover him. That’s when I saw his arm. Almost afraid to look, I lifted him by the wrist and spotted the black bruising on the underbelly of his forearm. A weird spider web of dark veins extended from it. I set down his arm and covered him.

“Everything’s okay, though, right?” My father asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “Everything is fine.”

It wasn’t. It wasn’t going as planned, and not as my mind envisioned. Yes, as a family we were going to the cabin to escape it all. But in a sense we were bringing it with us.

No matter how much I didn’t want to believe it, my heart and gut screamed to me that Paul was infected. My heart broke.

Bobby had given brotherly advice that was medically sound. Spare Paul, spare us all before he got worse. Like a dog, put him down and out of his misery.

Even if within the depths of my soul, I knew what had to be done, the mother, the wife and human being in me, was sure I didn’t have the guts to pull it off.

The rain had a soothing effect in the vehicle and I was glad that Paul had fallen asleep. I kept reaching over, touching his skin, hoping that it would cool down. It didn’t. Nor did the spreading black bruises on his arms stop. I felt guilty for the continuous squirts of hand sanitizer I used.

The cabin was located a good two hours out of the city if traffic was good and we took the highway. I noticed that the farther we got from the city, the more traffic there was. Some cars sped by us, belongings tied and packed on the roof. Where were they going? Where were they rushing to?

Because of that, my father opted to exit the highway and take back roads. We took our time. The rain would make it slick and we needed our vehicle, the last thing we wanted was to get into an accident.

Katie napped, as she always did on long trips. I was so thirsty all I kept thinking of was that ten dollar Starbucks gift card I never used it.

“Mommy?” Addy called me. “How long will we be at the cabin?”

“I don’t know. Until all the sick people are better.”

“Will they get better?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why did we not help Mrs. Green?”

“In case she was sick,” I replied.

“Are the sick people dangerous?”

“Some. Yes.”

“Why do you keep looking at Daddy’s other arm? That’s not the one he hurt.”

It was then I realized I had gone into auto pilot, lifting Paul’s arm, watching it increasingly turn black. Comparing the uninjured to the injured arm, I could see that the bruises on his bitten arm went deep, and had become covered with skin that had a grayish hue. My stomach knotted and churned.

I peered up to see Addy had turned a little in her booster seat. “Turn around, sweetie.”

“What’s wrong with the other arm?” My father asked.

“Nothing, um …” I sat up. “Dad, any chance you can pull over? I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“Are you sick, Mommy?” Addy asked.

“Yeah.”

Addy screamed. It was loud, long and shrill.

“Jesus Christ!” My father blasted.  “What was that for?”

“Mommy’s sick and she’s gonna get dangerous.”

“No.” My father said. “It’s car sick. There’s a big difference.”

“Okay. Whew.” Addy said.

My father pulled over and as soon as he did I climbed over the seat, opened the rear door and jumped out.

The moment the outdoor air hit me, my head spun. I felt dizzy, almost as if I was going to pass out. As I rushed to get further from the van for privacy for my impending expulsion, my foot slipped on the mud. I slid some, catching my balance, but while doing so my body rejected the contents of my stomach.

I sat there half bent over, hands on knees, while my body just projected everything I had consumed that was in my stomach. My body shook, my stomach felt as if it folded in half. I panicked. What if I had it? What if I had this virus? I could have caught it from Paul. No, it was three days from exposure to infection. That was what Bobby said. Then again Bobby also said it could take up to thirty days. I argued with my mind as I continued to fight the dry heaves. I didn’t have it. I didn’t have it.

“Well,” my father said, then cleared his throat. “In all these years this is the first time that I can recall you ever throwing up over something you saw, or for being emotional.”

“How do you know?” I asked still struggling. “How do you know it’s just me being emotional?”

“Your husband is sick. You’re worried about that. He has a raging fever. The whole world is falling apart. Yep, it’s emotional.”

“How do we know it’s not the virus? Throwing up is one of the symptoms.”

“We can’t be sure, but I can say I’m pretty certain you don’t have it.” My father said. “There are four types of things that make a person throw up.”

I looked over my shoulder at him as if he were nuts. “What?”

“Yep. I’m going to educate you. The four types: One, pregnancy, which is not your case. Two, drunk or a hangover. That’s not you either. Unless you tied one over last night and I don’t know. Three, some sort of illness.” He peered forward and took a look at the mess I made on the ground. “Doesn’t have the smell of sickness and … look, I don’t think you got the virus. I don’t think it’s that fast. And four, emotions. The truth is, for the last month or so you’ve been bottled up with this project, hoping and believing with your heart and soul that it wasn’t going to happen, and when it did, it took you by surprise. All that craziness when we were leaving didn’t help.” He extended a water bottle to me. “Here, have a drink.”

I took the bottle and had three big gulps before I choked. “Oh my God, that’s vodka.”

“Shit.” My father cringed. “I grabbed Lisa’s bottle by accident. Drink up anyhow it won’t hurt.”

“I’ll pass but thanks.” I handed the bottle back to him. “So when did you become such a regurgitation aficionados?”

“About the same time you learned those big words from television commercials.”

“So you think I’m okay?”

“How are you feeling now?”

“Better.”

“It’s not the virus. Not sure, but I’d say, if you had the virus, you don’t feel better right away. How about telling me now what Bobby said? What threw you over the edge?”

I looked to the SUV, then to my father. “Basically, the thing is you don’t always get it if you’re exposed, but if you do, it’s flu like symptoms. They can take up to thirty days to show. But if you get it, you get those symptoms and your skin starts to die … as Paul’s is, then you turn.”

“Turn?” My father leaned closer to me, as if he were trying to hear me better. “Turn like the undead?”

“That’s what I asked him and he laughed at me. Then told me that it’s about as close to being … the undead as we can get. They are shells of themselves, from what I gathered, running on rage.”

My father whistled. “What do we do?”

“He said put them out of their misery.”

“Jesus.”

“Dad, what am I supposed to do about Paul? I can’t just put him out of his misery.”

“I’m not expecting you to. Putting him out of his misery, well, it’s a lot easier said than done. Isn’t it? This is family and we’ll take it one step at a time, one moment at a time, we will not jump the gun, because we just don’t know. We’ll handle it. It’ll be all right.”

I nodded.

“That’s not saying we don’t take precautions if he has it. Okay?” He put his arm on my shoulder. “We’re close to the cabin. You ready to get in and go?”

Before I answered I took the water bottle from his hand, had a sip of the vodka, then gave it back. I was ready to hit the road, but I certainly wasn’t ready for what was ahead of us.