Until We End by Frankie Brown

proclaimed. HIGHLY CONTAGIOUS.
    Beneath the picture was a set of instructions on how to make your own gauze mask, the same as the kind I’d seen on the soldiers from the day before. I looked up at Brooks and Lonnie, who were waiting for me a few feet ahead.
    â€œWhy don’t you wear masks like this?” I asked, flipping the page to show them.
    Brooks snorted. “They don’t help. Remember the patrol from yesterday?”
    â€œYeah, they were all wearing masks.”
    He nodded. “We had to wear them in the military. Everyone did. People still died.”’
    I picked up another flyer from the sidewalk. This one was bright red and a little metallic, like it’d been designed to catch the light.
    INSTRUCTIONS TO ALL
CIVILIANS
    ALL of Chatham County, including metropolitan Savannah, has been declared unfit for habitation. The head of each household is report to their neighborhood’s government-managed safety zone to obtain a designated temporary residence and await further instruction.
    THIS ACTION IS MANDATORY
    PERSONS FOUND TO BE IN IGNORANCE OF WILLFUL NEGLECT OF THE LAW WILL BE FORCIBLY REMOVED
    I looked up as a shadow fell over me. Brooks stood there. “Come on,” he said, jerking his head to the side. “We’ve gotta go.” I stood, letting the flyer fall through my fingers.
    I’d seen enough of Savannah to know it’d never be the same. The virus had taken everything.

Chapter Thirteen
    It took hours to get back to the warehouse, just like I thought it would. The last few rays of sunlight were just barely peeking over the treetops when we finally ducked under the chain link fence surrounding the warehouse.
    I trudged up the stairs, feet aching with every step. Lu and Jackson had gotten here way ahead of us and had already disappeared. I tried very hard not to imagine what they were doing.
    Lonnie collapsed onto the couch with a groan, his swoop of white-blond hair clashing magnificently with the tacky green floral pattern. Brooks settled into his overstuffed recliner and kicked off his boots. He crossed his arms behind his head and closed his eyes.
    â€œYou know what I miss most?” Lonnie asked.
    I looked from Brooks to Lonnie and sat in the wooden chair a la 1974 and hooked my arms over the back. “What?”
    â€œSpas.” Lonnie lingered over the word, drawing the syllable out like if he wished hard enough, a masseuse would materialize behind him and douse him in scented oil.
    It made me smile in spite of everything. “What else do you miss?”
    Lonnie gave it some thought and then his face lit up. “Crepes. Paper-thin and stuffed with cream cheese and blueberries or gooey chocolate and strawberries then dusted with powdered sugar.” He closed his eyes, licked his lips, and moaned.
    Brooks watched with a smile before turning to me. “What about you, Cora? What do you miss?”
    My face fell. What I missed most was my family. Coby and Dad, and even Mom, though I could barely remember her. But I didn’t want to go there now. I missed other things, too. Little things, like Dad taking me for pizza after a track meet. Reading romance novels with embarrassing covers late into the night. Air conditioning.
    â€œI guess,” I said, struggling to find the words, “something familiar.”
    Lonnie leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Like what?”
    â€œA routine, you know? Knowing what I’ll be doing from day to day and knowing what’ll happen tomorrow. Even coming home from school and having an avalanche of homework that’ll be due tomorrow. Because that means there will
be
a tomorrow.”
    Lonnie nodded slowly and my face began to burn as I watched Brooks from the corner of my eye. He was smiling at me. It felt like I’d divulged something personal, even though I hadn’t. “And chocolate, of course,” I said to lighten the mood.
    â€œWhat do you miss?” I asked