Pox (4 page)

She couldn’t get her arms out of the straps. Konnor’s
fists rained down on her. With her arms trapped, unable to defend
herself, she had to take the beating. Thanks only to Konnor’s
extreme condition, he soon exhausted himself and rolled away from
her.

This was the last night she would spend in the home
she had known for weeks. As comfortable as it was, as much as she
knew the neighborhood, as bad as she wanted to remain with Konnor,
she knew it was over. Her life was worth more than a few
possessions and a completely insane man.

That night she locked herself alone in the bedroom.
Konnor pounded on the door, screaming, trying to get in. She forced
herself to ignore the crazy man he had become, but still, she
couldn’t sleep. When Konnor finally quieted from exhaustion, she
lay awake, continuing to evaluate what she had seen earlier in the
day.

Who was it? More importantly, was it a man or a
woman? If it was a woman, how would she get her attention and draw
her out of the house?

She knew what she had to do would be dangerous. She
knew too that she had to get as far away from Konnor as she could
for her own safety. What she wasn’t so sure of was whether it would
be any safer with the person that had been watching her on her
walks through the neighborhood.

FIVE

Russell

In the beginning, when the people were still
concentrating on meteorites and six-tailed comets and the sun’s
reversing poles, the general roundups began. Everyone with a
circular vaccination scar got ordered into refugee centers. The
story put out was that an epidemic had begun on the South American
continent and it was progressing north at an alarming rate.

At least, that’s what the broadcasts repeated.

Russell never heard of a circular scar. He looked it
up, and learned that it was a mark left by a scab. Before about
1972 or 1974, everyone had to be inoculated against something
called smallpox. The resulting scab would give the recipient of the
vaccine a small, circular scar for life along with lifetime
immunity to the disease.

Apparently, smallpox had been eradicated from the
face of the earth sometime in the 1980s. Apparently, all traces of
the vaccine were supposed to be destroyed. And also apparent,
judging by the disease’s advance northwards from South America, it
hadn’t.

So much for trusting governments to do the right
thing.

We’d already had something not quite similar occur
just before the meteors. It was called measles, and anyone who
hadn’t been vaccinated against it could catch it and die. Many did,
for it spread rapidly among the religious freaks and anti-vaxer
nutbars who had allowed themselves to be talked out of permitting
their children to get any immunization shots at all.

When the deaths began, it seemed to me to be only
right. Those who didn’t see the value in modern medicine were
designed to die for their supposed sins. Eventually, we all ended
up paying our dues, one way or another.

Following the measles epidemic, the government began
scouring medical records for the names of people who hadn’t had any
immunization injections. By then the black vans had been replaces
by city busses painted in dark colors with yellow markings to
highlight them.

When that started, something told Russell it was time
to move, and he did, a number times. He picked up, packed up and
moved out to the ‘burbs. He wasn’t nervous or concerned about it in
the slightest. He moved at night on his quiet, battery-powered
motorcycle. It took many trips until, finally, he was settled and
alone.

Alone, that is, until he saw her again.

I lifted a corner of the curtain to look out. Just as
I did, I caught the woman glancing at my house. She must have seen
the movement. She was blind if she didn’t.

I panicked and ran to the door to look out of the
peephole. I was just in time to see the woman getting up off the
ground. She had to have stumbled from the shock of seeing something
where only moments before there had been nothing.

I rushed back to the window and pulled the curtain
open wide. I pasted grin on my face and waved. The girl halted,
mid-step, turned, and ran in the direction from which she had
come.

I closed the drapes and returned to the darkened
living room. I got a good look, to be sure. She was definitely
attractive. That’s not what I noticed first, though. The first was
the weapon. A shotgun, with a short barrel. A cut-off for easy
handling.

The gun was slung across her chest. The
double-barreled breach was open, but the bandolier over her
shoulder carried enough shells to make it look as though she
belonged to a small band of mercenaries. I’d like to have her on my
side, if that was possible.

I tried to put her out of my mind. I had to
concentrate on the map in front of me.

The map was my record of everything. It told me where
I had gone to scrounge for things I needed - mostly canned goods. I
color-coded it as a reminder of where I had been, where there was
nothing of value left, and where I might want to go for a look-see
at what remained.

To keep a step ahead, I marked the urban pockets of
farm animals that people in the city had started to collect and
feed before the purge. In time I thought I might be able to gather
some of them and move them to an empty arena, or maybe a small park
where there would be grass. Maybe I’d even get a small farm going
for fresh eggs and goat milk - all in good time.

And then thoughts of the woman banished everything
else from my mind. Not thinking about her wasn’t going to be as
easy as I thought it might. I started to realize the value of
having another pair of hands and legs to help accomplish the grunt
work.

It wasn’t so much of a struggle as it was routine. I
became accustomed to the absence of people and vehicles and the
silence that went with it.

When the power shut down, I was prepared. In advance,
I had located a generator and enough power cables, plugs, jacks and
conduit that I kept stored in the basement. It took a day of
dedicated work, but power to the house was restored by the end of
it.

Gasoline became my next project. I managed to collect
an empty drum and fill it. That made me good for a couple of weeks,
but I’d need more over the long term. It was turning into a real
hassle to find it, as well.

But time was all I had.

It took another four months to realize that just
about every last soul had been shipped off to somewhere. I stopped
looking for anyone to ask where they thought that somewhere might
be.

There was that one time, though. The woman had caught
me looking at her through my curtained window. I let go of the
curtain too late. She had to have seen the covering shift back into
position. I reversed our positions, and realized that when I had
opened the curtain wide, I might as well have been exposing myself
in the window as a naked man might. That alone would have scared me
to death, too, were I on the opposite side of the window.

A few days passed, and I was put on edge by the
plink, plink, plink of stones bouncing off of the window. I ran to
the door and looked out.

It was the woman. Instantly, I moved to the window
and pulled the curtains wide. I pasted the same silly grin across
my face.

She had made it obvious she was looking for me. I had
to wonder, though. The first thing I noticed was the action on the
shotgun strung across her chest.

It was closed. It was probably loaded, as well.

When she finally had my attention, she turned and
walked away again. I was devastated.

That was the last straw.

I convinced myself to go in search of weapons. In a
gun shop I found automatic shotguns and all the ammunition I’d
conceivably need in boxes. I loaded the bike and motored home to
stash a couple of the shotguns and enough ammunition in shot and
slugs to supply an army. I even had a couple of bandoliers loaded,
just as I had seen the girl wearing.

At a hardware store, I picked up a hacksaw and
started to work shortening the barrels to what I thought might be a
reasonable length for carrying. I fabricated slings and adjusted
them across my chest. Hell, I even practiced positioning the
shotgun in front of me in case I ever needed to use it.

I hoped I’d never have to.

Eventually, I forgot about the woman when she stopped
tracking through my neighborhood.

It was after one of my more successful scrounging
expeditions. I turned into the cul-de-sac and almost dropped the
bike when I saw the woman sitting on my front step. It was too late
to pretend to ignore her.

I pulled in and leaned the motorcycle on its
stand.

—You’ll get a ticket for not wearing a helmet.

She smiled. I tried not to. I wasn’t successful.

—Not likely. Anyone with a government gas ration and
any smarts is long gone from this place. That’s why I’m here.

—So then, you’re saying you’re not so smart?

—I’d say I’m about as smart as you are for being
somewhere near here, too. I’m Russell.

—Pleased to meet you. I’m Caitrin.

I stuck out my hand. Caitrin formed a fist and
instead, bumped my hand. In a split second she pulled her hand
away. I didn’t get a chance to make a grab for it, even if I wanted
to.

I didn’t try to hide my surprise and the look of
disappointment that washed over my face.

—I’m sorry, but I have to be careful. I don’t know
you.

—That’s all right. Give me a couple of minutes to
haul everything inside and I’ll make us some tea.

Caitrin sat cross-legged on the lawn, well away from
the open door. She watched carefully as I unloaded my treasures and
hauled them inside.

—What did you manage to collect?

It was my turn to be skeptical.

—Oh, the usual. Just some stuff I think I’ll
need.

She grinned.

—Who’s being careful now?

The noise of the diesel engine reverberated off of
walls of the empty neighborhood and echoed into the cul-de-sac. By
the time I recognized it for what it was, it was almost too
late.

I scrambled to push my motorcycle out of sight behind
the house and returned to the front. I forgot all about Caitrin. I
ran inside and eased the door shut.

The huge truck rounded the corner and stopped in a
cloud of black diesel exhaust and noise at the street entrance to
the circle of houses.

All of a sudden the location I had chosen because of
its isolation had been breached in a most uncomfortable way. Even
so, isolated from the outside by curtains covering windows and
doors, I still believed that there was no way I would be
discovered.

In the darkened room, something tapped me on the
shoulder. I gasped and almost jumped out of my skin. In my haste I
forgot I had company. I should have known. Where else could Caitrin
have gone on such short notice?

—Jesus, woman, I’ve been alone in here too long for
that.

—I’m sorry. I just wanted to let you know I was here,
too.

Caitrin’s backpack sat on the floor in the living
room. Sh eke pt the shotgun in plain view. A huge k-bar hung off of
her belt. The handle had been ground down and would probably just
fit her smaller hand. Then she wrapped her hand around it, and I
knew I was right about that.

I tried to lighten the atmosphere by moivng to the
door. I peered out the peep-hole. A single unarmed soldier
descended from the truck and consulted a map. He looked right, then
left, and back down the empty street he had just traversed.
Finally, he climbed back in and drove off in a cloud of black
soot.

I waited until I couldn’t hear the truck, then
cracked the door to listen to the engine sounds becoming even more
faint. I opened the door wide to let in some light. Caitrin took up
a chair in a corner of the living room. She could keep a wary eye
on me.

—You look like you belong there.

She ignored me.

—It’s going to be dark soon. I’ll fire up the
generator and make you some of that tea I promised before we were
so rudely interrupted.

She jumped up. I thought she might run past me out
the door.

—You’ve got electricity?

—Yes. Running water, too. Whoever owned this place
had the presence of mind to put a reservoir in the back yard to
collect rainwater. That’s one of the reasons I moved into this
place.

—Can I take a shower? I’ve been bathing in swimming
pools and I’ve about had enough chlorine to last forever.

—Towels are in the hall closet. Take a chair with you
to prop against the door.

—Thanks. I will.

She gathered up everything she owned and took it with
her into the bathroom. I didn’t blame her. I would have too, were I
in the same position. She must have found a hair dryer, because
when the water stopped running I could hear the familiar faint,
high-pitched whine from the kitchen.

SIX

Russell and Caitrin

While Caitrin dried her hair in the bathroom, I
considered what had happened during the truck’s brief appearance. I
wanted to run it by her to get another person’s opinion, now that
there was another person.

—It’s amazing what electricity, a little fresh water
and a hair dryer will do for a woman. I was considering cutting my
hair short before this.

Caitrin stopped at the entrance to the living room.
The hat was gone and her clean hair shone in the light. She was one
good-looking woman. Hell, she didn’t even have the shotgun in her
hands.

—Come back and use it any time you like.

—Is that my cue to be leaving? I haven’t had that tea
yet.