Us, Redux
“I watched her go… saw the way her plump, ruby lips just stopped forming words – her eyes, how they went white, I saw – saw… oh my God, I just sat there and watched her die… and I couldn’t do a thing about it. Couldn’t do anything… Mama… I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, I…
I walked out into the street after she went. Put a blanket over her, left her next to Dad and John. The street was so quiet. The streetlights didn’t come on no more. It was so dark. There were so many stars. I was so cold, and I just… I just sat there, in the middle of the road beside the red car that finally stopped smoking and the pale corpse of an older man I never saw before. And, to be honest? I cried. Just fucking wept. I didn’t know what else there was to do, I mean, everyone was gone. Just like that, everyone I loved, gone, and I… I didn’t even get what it meant, it didn’t fully sink in for a long time. I couldn’t even wrap my head around the fact that everyone was gone. Everyone.
And suddenly I was alone in the world.”
- unidentified audio recording
~*~
It was late October, 2013. There were traces of the first snowfall coating the brown crispiness of dying grass preparing to wilt away for the wintry long-run. Minor news reports of a resilient superbug originating in Sri Lanka battled for media attention against the Duchess of Edinburgh’s public homosexual announcement and the singer-songwriter conjoined twins that became an instant viral sensation. Conflicts between China and Kazakhstan persisted. The discovery of a mysterious satellite suddenly orbiting Pluto sent the science world into a frenzy, and fast food superpowers McDonalds and KFC officially declared they would be merging.
No one even knew what was coming.
It’s all just second-hand speculation at this point. It supposedly started deep in South America, somehow wormed its way up into the North American stretches, engulfing cities with it as it went. In under a week the southernmost reaches of the United States had succumbed to the viral outbreak that seemed relentless – a hyperactive phantom, moving at alarming rates, unwilling to be tracked or predictable. The virus was first supposedly waterborne only to be theorized as carried by mosquito’s days later until it was settled upon being an airborne virus. No one really knew or could confidently say what it was.
Midway through that November, human contact from Mexico downward was a thing of the past. The lower half of the USA had fared only a fraction better, but it was speculated the death toll was in the high millions. Canada was a bastion of hope for survivors who were spared from the chokehold of the rapidly-spreading virus. Some said the oncoming cold weather halted the spread of the virus as reports of the infection dwindled to very rare cases. Others said the ones who never contracted it were immune. And, still, there were the few that doubted it was ever meant to leave anyone alive.
It is now April, 2014. The snow has almost all melted; and with the heavy amounts of rain, it’s leaving puddles on the freeways and roads where traffic remained has immobile for the past six months. Most buildings haven’t been stepped in since. If there still is any government officials left standing, they had abandoned their power long ago. Whatever law enforcement or army once existed has stopped breathing with the many frozen bodies now beginning to thaw and rot in the streets. There’s no one left to tell us what to do.
There’s just us. And there’s still me.
This was once my city, and it will be again. Starting with this,
Me. Us. Our redux.
- Annette Danes, former mayor of Rittenside, current leader of The Towers
~*~
We haven’t seen another case of the virus since… since November, really. There are no telltale signs an individual is infected. There’s no warning cough, no fever or vomiting leading up to it. Hell, the person could appear perfectly healthy and happy like they never even knew they were carrying the infection seconds before their face goes slack, their eyes roll up into their head, their last breath seeps out from their gaping mouth, and they stop. That’s it. They just stop – their lungs stop, their heart stops… they just die.
The first few days there were so many bodies. Every hour, more and more. You never knew who was going to be next – you watched your family and friends die in front of you, praying the entire time you weren’t next until that moment came when you realized you were the last and you couldn’t help but have wished you were the very first to go.
From what I’ve seen, trying to treat it is futile. The infected individual will perish in seconds. We didn’t have time to prepare for it, let alone look for symptoms. Believe me, I’ve tried. Preventing it might still be possible, I just don’t know where to look yet, what to try, you know? We don’t even have working technology or access to basic medical supplies to conduct tests. Hell, we don’t have a recent victim either, but I sure as shit don’t want to wait for that.
We keep telling ourselves it’s been two months since anyone has died from it and we should be thankful for that – optimistic, and appreciative. Maybe it’s gone, you know? Maybe I don’t have to worry so much about trying to, I don’t know, trying to cure this, or something. But maybe it’ll also mutate into a new strain and wipe the rest of us out. Maybe it’s nothing we can even explain with modern science and medicine.
I don’t know. I just don’t know anymore. I’m not even a real doctor.
- Amina Ali, resident medic
~*~
Two more people arrived yesterday. They said they heard the radio message we’ve been broadcasting, so we know that’s finally working. In total we’re up to thirty-two residents. There used to be twelve million people in this city.
Thirty-two in six months. Huh.
Yesterday we finished the rooftop garden at East building and we’re starting on West building tomorrow. One of the people who got here yesterday said he used to live on a farm and could help out with it. Annette should be happy about that. She’s got that whole thing where everyone’s important and can lend a hand. Sure. Okay.
We also got a team starting on the balcony gardens. We’re tearing down the dividers on every floor’s balcony and laying out pots and bins to grow stuff in. We also got this older couple who started a cockroach farm. Can’t say I’m in love with that idea, but protein’s protein. Until we catch those rabbits we’ve seen around here anyway, it’ll do.
Our food stocks are getting lower now that we’ve got a lot more people. We’ve raided the supermarket and convenient stores in the area, but that’s it. No one wants to venture out into the rest of the city and see all them dead people. I don’t blame them. It’s depressing. Someone will have to eventually.
- Richard J. McMurray, head of construction projects
~*~
And now a long, drawn-out message from me!
And that’s all for now. If you have any questions, feel free to ask!
