Authors: Wil Mara
Chelsea, who had put a curious hand against the glass, said flatly, “That stuff doesn’t look good anymore.”
“No,” her mother replied, “I don’t think so, either. They really need to restock.”
“Gross,” Chelsea added. Billy, conversely, was staring with the kind of rapt fascination for the grotesque that is the exclusive property of small boys.
“It really is. Let’s go.”
Aisles one through eight featured only dry goods, but the shelves were nearly empty in some places and half-stocked most everywhere else. In a store where neatness was normally given top priority, it was disturbing to see items standing crooked, set in the wrong place, or lying on the floor. Chelsea remarked that someone really needed to come and do cleanup. Billy began kicking a small can of peas down aisle four and giggling like a madman until Dennis told him to stop.
They discovered human life in aisle nine; the frozen foods. There, at the far end, stood the man they knew to be the store manager. He was a respectable, responsible type, tall and well built, with dark hair combed neatly around the sides but long gone on top. He wore his usual black pants, white shirt, and conservative tie. Next to the tie, Dennis and Andi knew, would be a nameplate that read
BILL
with his title underneath in smaller letters. He also wore a cotton surgical mask and rubber examination gloves. Both were clearly visible in the distance.
Is it time for us to have those, too?
Dennis wondered as a chill flashed through him.
Excuse me, Bill, but what aisle would they be in?
Bill was also holding a clipboard and had propped open one of the freezer doors with the aid of a small cart.
The Jensens stopped as a group. As they did, Bill turned and saw them. An awkward moment followed.
He’s surprised to see us
, Dennis realized
. He wasn’t expecting anyone.
Then, even more unsettling:
That’s because no one’s been here in a while.
Dennis smiled and gave a little wave. Bill returned it from his end, then went back to work. The Jensen herd began moving again, and Andi picked out some french fries, waffles, and ravioli.
When they got close enough, Dennis said to Bill, “Busy today.”
That, at least, earned a laugh. “Yeah, packed.”
“It really is.”
“Can I help you find anything?”
Now Dennis wanted to laugh.
How about the road back to sanity? Can you help us find that?
“No, thank you,” Andi replied. “We know where everything is.”
“Okay, well, if you have any questions—” He spread his arms and smiled while shaking his head. “I’ll be here.”
“Thanks.”
No sooner had they left Bill behind than they spotted a second employee—a young girl standing behind one of the cash registers. Her face and hands were also protected by surgical gear. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-one or -two and was nervously alternating her attention between her fingernails and her surroundings.
Who lets their kid work in a supermarket during an epidemic?
Dennis wondered with a preemptive loathing for her idiot parents. He tried to rationalize it.
Maybe they don’t know. Maybe she’s a single mom who got kicked out of her conservative parents’ home and came here to start fresh, or something along those lines
. Whatever her story, she looked petrified, and Dennis felt for her.
And for what? Minimum wage?
Then a thought came that stopped him cold—
We’re here, too.
At last the madness of it all seeped through the membrane of denial he had allowed to form.
“I think it’s time to go.”
Andi, who was presently scratching another item off the shopping list, said absently, “Huh?”
“Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“What? But we—”
“Andi…?”
She looked up at him, then followed his eyes to register girl. She had never seen anyone so frightened in her life. In that instant, she understood—or at least began to.
“Yeah, okay.”
FIVE
That evening, the phone rang twice in the Jensen household. The first call was from Elaine, checking in. The other was from a woman Andi knew in town who wanted to make sure they were okay—and to give updates.
Andi reached for Dennis’s hand and squeezed it, then said that Lisa and Ritchie Bennett were dead. She and Dennis first met the Bennetts through mutual acquaintances, and had been to their house a few times. Casual get-togethers, with wine and finger food and modern jazz playing quietly. Ritchie was small, bald, and muscular, with a goatee and a gravelly voice. He had more energy than a roadrunner and a delightfully childish sense of humor. Lisa, tall and thin with silky black hair, was his female equivalent, in direct violation of the “opposites attract” rule. She had a sharp, vivacious wit and seemed unable to go more than five minutes without laughing about something. The last time Dennis and Andi were at their house, about a month ago, they found Ritchie wearing a maroon fez he’d bought on eBay. There was no reason for the purchase other than giddy impulse. They found this endearing.
The idea of the Bennetts lying dead somewhere, their bodies disfigured beyond recognition, made Dennis feel weak all over. He couldn’t shut out the image of their blackened, distorted faces. People he knew, people he liked. He had thought several times that the basis for a lasting friendship was there. It wasn’t easy to make new friends as you got older, he and Andi were discovering. Adults were often jaded, cynical, used up … untrustworthy, petty … childish, wildly egotistical.… The Bennetts didn’t seem to have any of these flaws. They were refreshingly unaffected. The Jensens found this marvelous and decided yes, they’d like to get to know them better. It was something they’d been looking forward to.
Andi, sitting on the living room couch with her legs crossed, was doing more listening than talking now. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and Dennis brought the box of tissues from the bathroom. He knew she was being loaded up with information, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear all of it when she was done.
Give me the highlights but leave out the details, please,
he wanted to say. But a valorous part of him felt that if she had to suffer through it, he should, too.
Chelsea came in to show them a drawing she’d made of their house, complete with a bright yellow sun and corkscrew smoke rising from the chimney. She asked why Mommy was crying, and Dennis told her it was because one of her friends was sick. Andi reached out for Chelsea and hugged her with her free arm. After kissing her on the head, she said in a whisper, “Mommy’s on the phone right now. Go back and make me another beautiful drawing, and I’ll be done in a minute.” Chelsea nodded and went back out.
This is a poker tournament,
Dennis thought as he stood in the middle of the room, watching his wife.
It’s a poker tournament and we’re getting into the later stages now, where players start dropping out left and right
. So far they were still in it. They had taken no serious hits—just the scare with Chelsea. That was analogous to going into a hand well behind and drawing the card you desperately needed.
Luck stepped in and saved them … but how often could you depend on luck? Every moment they remained in Carlton, they were gambling against greater odds. The outbreak was playing the role of the house, and the Jensens were the degenerate customer—and the customer rarely came out ahead when all was said and done. Only fools didn’t know that.
Andi finished the call and rattled off the victims list. There were twelve in total, all threads of varying color in the fabric of their lives—the woman at the library who called when a requested book or DVD came in, the young girl at the bank who always gave Chelsea a red lollipop, the semiretired couple who owned the Laundromat.…
She covered her face and wept. Dennis stood watching her for a long moment. He suddenly felt detached from it all. He was tired of the crying, tired of the emotional beating they’d been taking. They had allowed themselves to become too complacent about this, too passive. Sitting here for days, literally, waiting for someone to act, for something to be done.
Isn’t that the whole problem with this country now?
he thought.
Everyone sitting around waiting for someone else to take care of things?
Who was going to solve this problem? The government? Being born in the ’60s, Dennis had never known a time when the government wasn’t an object of scorn and ridicule. Lyndon Johnson was president on the day he entered the world. Johnson, then Nixon, then Ford, then Carter … Now he lived in an age when people
expected
the government to fix everything for them. The irony was impossible to miss—it had become part of the American ethos to regard civic leaders as corrupt, ineffective, and hopelessly stupid, yet expect those same leaders to act as saviors. How many people were willing to put their very lives in the government’s hands?
“We need to get out of here, sweetheart,” Dennis said, distantly surprised by how calm he sounded.
Andi looked up, eyes bloodshot, cheeks flushed. “What?”
“We need to go. Someplace far from here.”
Andi’s eyes shifted away from his in an expression of uncertainty; then she nodded. “Yeah … I suppose.”
“So let’s get moving.”
“Where to?”
“The cabin. It’s isolated, so it’s perfect.” He began toward the carpeted staircase that led to the second floor, but she stood and gently took his arm.
“Honey, wait … are you sure?”
“I don’t want to do it, but what’s the reward for sticking around? For taking that risk?”
“Well…” She couldn’t gather her thoughts here. Something to do with this being their home for so long—and not just the house but the town, too. The whole
community
. She loved it here, and she knew he did, too. It was
their
town. The playgrounds, the schools, the supermarkets, the restaurants. They had blended into the culture, been fully accepted. It was familiar and comfortable. And now, in a time of crisis, they were going to abandon it?
“No one’s having any success stopping this,” Dennis said. “I don’t think we should sit around waiting for it to knock on our door and turn us into a statistic. Lisa and Ritchie, those kids at school, and plenty of others … who’s next?” He shook his head. “Elaine said they still don’t know what it is and they can’t contain it. We can’t just sit here.”
“Yeah,” she said, almost whispering. “I know.”
He stepped forward and hugged her. “I realize our whole life is here, but … we won’t
have
lives much longer if we stay.”
“I agree.”
“The moment they get a rein on this thing—”
“—we’ll come right back?”
He smiled. “You better believe it.”
“Okay, sounds like a plan.”
“We’ll leave tonight.”
“Under the cover of darkness?”
He sighed heavily. “Like the cowards we are.”
“Great.”
“Let’s go get the suitcases from the crawl space.”
He went up the stairs, but she lingered a moment, surveying the living room—the couch and love seat where they all sat for Family Movie Night every Friday … the end tables with framed family photos … the bubble clock Dennis had bought her for their fifth anniversary, the weights spinning soundlessly. The blinds were drawn, shutting out the world. Fear was waiting out there, drifting by the doors and windows for a chance to get in. Their little pocket of safety was slowly collapsing. It was so quiet right now, so still and calm and perfect. And only a set of walls separated them from a nightmare.
Of course it was ridiculous to stay, ridiculous to put the kids at risk for any reason. But she wasn’t so sure that they could simply trot back in here after the outbreak had been contained. (
If
it was ever contained, a mean little voice in her mind suggested.) That felt a little too hopeful. For whatever reason, she couldn’t shake the feeling that, regardless of the outcome, their lives would never be the same. That was what lay at the core of her sadness—something so beautiful, so wonderful, and for which they had worked so long and hard, was being brought to ruin. And a part of her was letting it happen. Somehow, her willingness to leave right now was contributing to the crime.
Andi took one more look at their meticulously crafted little world. Then, taking a deep breath and summoning all the willpower she had, she let go of it in her mind.
* * *
They waited until Chelsea and Billy were asleep, then rushed around the house like lunatics, grabbing whatever might be needed. Usually when they went on a trip, they made a list of stuff to bring—the STB list, as they called it. Andi kept it on the family computer and refined it before, during, and after every excursion. She printed a copy that night, then realized it was mostly useless due to the peculiar nature of the situation.
Should’ve made a list called “Stuff to Bring When You’re Escaping Your Town During a Massive Viral Outbreak.”
Food, for example, wasn’t on there, except for car snacks for the kids. When they traveled, they ate out. It was doubtful they’d be visiting too many restaurants this time around.
So the list was tossed aside, and they went from room to room collecting anything that seemed like a necessity. Since food was obviously in that category, Dennis went into the garage and took down the two big ice chests they kept in the loft. Then he transferred the contents of the refrigerator and covered it with ice cubes and cold packs. There was a fridge in the cabin, and even though it was unplugged, the electricity was always on. It wouldn’t take long to get it going. Two boxes of snacks—Cheez-Its for Chelsea, Teddy Grahams for Billy—were taken from the kitchen cabinet, along with a few apples and oranges for the ride. Dry foods—including canned soups, vegetables, fruits, and beans, as well as two boxes of brown rice—were loaded into cardboard boxes along with toiletries—Advil, Robitussin, Tums, Children’s Tylenol, toothpaste, brushes, floss, and so on. When it came to shampoo and conditioner, Dennis paused to consider which he should bring—the full bottles or the trial sizes. It was the first time he gave full thought to the possibility they might be gone awhile, that this thing could grow beyond all imaginable proportions, and they might be stuck in the cabin for quite some time. With reluctant pessimism, he grabbed the big bottles from their place on the ceramic shower shelf.