Journal 43

It’s sad. Our parents and grandparents thought they had prepared everything. The wealthy-built fallout shelters to safeguard their families in case the unmentionable happened. I guess they weren’t expecting a virus. All their preparations to survive a global war were futile. An overzealous scientist let a science experiment escape out into the world. At least, I think that’s what happened. I’m not sure. My parents used to discuss the epidemic over dinner. I only half listened. I really didn’t know the severity of the situation until the epidemic spread to my neighborhood. Once the virus reached your house, it was only a matter of days before death raised his ugly head.

I think Mrs. White was the first casualty on our block. She died sitting in her rocker on her front porch with her cat sitting on her lap. Body retrievers were already in use by then. A phone number continuously scrolled across the bottom of the TV. If someone died in your neighborhood you were supposed to call the number. Only the stupid would come within 100 feet of a dead body. If a family member died you were supposed to place them on the curb next to the street. The body retrievers drove around in a big army truck. People dressed in chemical suits would retrieve the bodies. Old lady White was on her porch for days. I had nightmares every night for a week after she died. I kept dreaming she would come into my house and sit at the foot of my bed. By the time, my parents died the body retrievers didn’t come around anymore.

Capt Patel was in a hurry to see me leave after we reached the main room. Everyone was strangely quiet. Another communiqué was on hold on one of the big screen TVs. Capt Patel’s first officer looked a bit nervous and a little agitated at my presence. I tried to ask what was going on, but no one seemed interested in answering my questions. Red shirts escorted me out the front door. They threw me down the front stairs.