It’s time to discuss leaving here. We need to leave this manmade destruction and retreat into nature.
December 11
Jackson, Jake, Bri and Mark have been preparing the ballroom for the meeting, but instead of putting out more chairs, they were folding them up and storing them away in the dressing room. It’s an agonizing reality, and I could read it on their faces.
For the first time in weeks, I sat at my desk on the ballroom stage. The curtains were open, like my eyes, and I watched as the remaining Villagers came in and took a seat. They moved as if someone had drained them of their life’s blood.
Seeing the small group made it all the more real. I saw Jill look at me and gasp. I know how thin I have become, how ashen my skin is now. My red hair has lost all of its shine and just sits, lifeless, on my head; an appropriate post-apocalyptic crown.
As I looked around, I noticed that almost everyone had long, unkempt hair, dirty and ripped clothes, and pale complexions. This is no way to live. I want more for my people.
Jackson supplied me with a list of the dead. As I watched those who remained, I did a mental tally of their lost loved ones. Some of them were people I considered more than friends:
Reverend John: Cynthia Summerlyn
Jill: Joseph
Matt and Jessica: Shelby and Camella
Holly: Colton
Pranav, Chandra and Gita: Veda and Padma
Tiffany: Robert, Jayden, Tommy
On the stage, Mark, Malcolm, Jackson, Adam, Reverend John and I sat, facing the survivors of this wave of death.
“Hello, Villagers,” I said in a throaty voice. I held the podium for balance. “I am still having difficulties, so this panel will be speaking today.”
Mark stood and helped me back to my seat. Jackson walked to the podium and for the first time since I have known him, spoke to the group like a true leader, a real Colonel.
“Thank you for coming today,” he read from the notecards he brought to the podium with him. “This is a somber occasion. There has been much death and sickness in the Village over the last weeks. It is more devastation coming on the heels of the world’s greatest massacre. But we must celebrate those who overcame the plague and are healthy once more.” There was a polite applause. “Now, Doctor Graham will tell us where we stand with the Sneaker Wave. Doctor,” Jackson said, inviting Malcolm to the front of the stage.
“Thank you, Colonel Jackson,” said Malcolm. “The Colonel is right; it has been a difficult, uphill battle for my medical team. As you know, we lost two of them. We have gone through almost our entire supply of antibiotics and many of the drugs we had in our medical arsenal. The problem is that we can no longer go out to pillage through the ruins for more supplies. If we are hit by another virus, as we stand now, it will wipe out every one of us.”
There were gasps from the Villagers, and myself. I wasn’t prepared for the doctor to deliver such a dire window into our future, for him to be so brutal with our fragile emotional states. I was starting to see Jackson’s heavy hand behind this.
I had a feeling I knew what was coming from the rest of the speakers, too. It was a finely crafted brain fuck, courtesy of our friendly neighborhood Colonel.
Reverend John went next. “The bodies are ready for funerals and burial first thing tomorrow morning. We have decided to create a Village cemetery where the Town Hall once stood. It seemed fitting. We hope that you will all be well enough to make it.”
That was another decision made while I was sick, but it actually made sense and showed a level of respect that made me proud.
“I would also like to thank the doctors and nurses for all that they did for my wife. I know that it all meant so much to my Cyndi.” Sadly, Reverend John returned to his seat.
Mark stood and began speaking. “First, I would also like to personally thank the medical staff for their extreme dedication during such a horrible time. I know what they went
December 11
Jackson, Jake, Bri and Mark have been preparing the ballroom for the meeting, but instead of putting out more chairs, they were folding them up and storing them away in the dressing room. It’s an agonizing reality, and I could read it on their faces.
For the first time in weeks, I sat at my desk on the ballroom stage. The curtains were open, like my eyes, and I watched as the remaining Villagers came in and took a seat. They moved as if someone had drained them of their life’s blood.
Seeing the small group made it all the more real. I saw Jill look at me and gasp. I know how thin I have become, how ashen my skin is now. My red hair has lost all of its shine and just sits, lifeless, on my head; an appropriate post-apocalyptic crown.
As I looked around, I noticed that almost everyone had long, unkempt hair, dirty and ripped clothes, and pale complexions. This is no way to live. I want more for my people.
Jackson supplied me with a list of the dead. As I watched those who remained, I did a mental tally of their lost loved ones. Some of them were people I considered more than friends:
Reverend John: Cynthia Summerlyn
Jill: Joseph
Matt and Jessica: Shelby and Camella
Holly: Colton
Pranav, Chandra and Gita: Veda and Padma
Tiffany: Robert, Jayden, Tommy
On the stage, Mark, Malcolm, Jackson, Adam, Reverend John and I sat, facing the survivors of this wave of death.
“Hello, Villagers,” I said in a throaty voice. I held the podium for balance. “I am still having difficulties, so this panel will be speaking today.”
Mark stood and helped me back to my seat. Jackson walked to the podium and for the first time since I have known him, spoke to the group like a true leader, a real Colonel.
“Thank you for coming today,” he read from the notecards he brought to the podium with him. “This is a somber occasion. There has been much death and sickness in the Village over the last weeks. It is more devastation coming on the heels of the world’s greatest massacre. But we must celebrate those who overcame the plague and are healthy once more.” There was a polite applause. “Now, Doctor Graham will tell us where we stand with the Sneaker Wave. Doctor,” Jackson said, inviting Malcolm to the front of the stage.
“Thank you, Colonel Jackson,” said Malcolm. “The Colonel is right; it has been a difficult, uphill battle for my medical team. As you know, we lost two of them. We have gone through almost our entire supply of antibiotics and many of the drugs we had in our medical arsenal. The problem is that we can no longer go out to pillage through the ruins for more supplies. If we are hit by another virus, as we stand now, it will wipe out every one of us.”
There were gasps from the Villagers, and myself. I wasn’t prepared for the doctor to deliver such a dire window into our future, for him to be so brutal with our fragile emotional states. I was starting to see Jackson’s heavy hand behind this.
I had a feeling I knew what was coming from the rest of the speakers, too. It was a finely crafted brain fuck, courtesy of our friendly neighborhood Colonel.
Reverend John went next. “The bodies are ready for funerals and burial first thing tomorrow morning. We have decided to create a Village cemetery where the Town Hall once stood. It seemed fitting. We hope that you will all be well enough to make it.”
That was another decision made while I was sick, but it actually made sense and showed a level of respect that made me proud.
“I would also like to thank the doctors and nurses for all that they did for my wife. I know that it all meant so much to my Cyndi.” Sadly, Reverend John returned to his seat.
Mark stood and began speaking. “First, I would also like to personally thank the medical staff for their extreme dedication during such a horrible time. I know what they went
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