of the locals recognized, and often did not believe – ones with tall buildings that seemed to touch the sky, and trains that pierced the ground. Progress was slow.
A little boy came running along the road, clocking a fair clip. His bare feet kicked up a cloud of dust.
It was Kid.
He’d come by the camp often enough for Mark to recognize him at a glance. Kid had the ability to make an appearance whenever a soldier turned around. Clean water? He was there. A trinket to take back home? He was there. The location of a remote local village? He was there.
But now his eyes were pained, his brow furrowed with well-worn lines. He skidded to a stop before Mark, hands on his knees, gasping for air.
“Sick… Sick people…” he said.
“Sick people?” Mark said. “You mean infected? Where?”
“Out… Outside,” Kid said, his lips turning white.
The situation put Mark in somewhat of a quandary. No CO would have believed the word of a young local lad, and if nothing came of it Mark would be taking the punishment. But he knew Kid, trusted him. He had nothing to gain by lying.
“Stand up and put your hands on your head,” Mark said. “It’ll expand your lungs.”
Kid did, though his arms shook with the effort.
“Can you take us to them?” Mark said.
Kid nodded, a weak effort.
“Roach, fetch a truck,” Mark said. “John, keep an eye on the queue. Jacob, inform the doctors about a possible outbreak outside the perimeter.”
Roach brought a truck around, full of soldiers in quarantine gear in the back. Mark carried Kid to the front seat, and carefully sat his fragile body on his lap.
Roach drove, weaving around the other cars and trucks and bikes, honking his horn to get them out of the way. He would have made a fair ambulance driver.
“Left,” Kid wheezed around half a mouthful of air.
He guided them to the other side of town. He had run a long way. It was no surprise he was so exhausted. Finally, Kid said: “Stop.”
They were surrounded by tin shacks that glinted in the sunlight.
“Where are they?” Mark said. “Where did you see them, Kid?”
Kid opened his eyes, raised his bony arm, and pointed with a shaky finger to a small shack at the end. Mark lay Kid’s body down on the seat. He left the door open and ran to open the back of the truck. The quarantine team were already climbing down the short ladder.
Locals saw the quarantine men and women in their shiny white suits and turned and ran. A clear sign of the approaching apocalypse to their eyes.
“In the shack at the end,” Mark said.
The quarantine team nodded and hustled inside. Mark didn’t see the scene himself but he later heard what they’d found.
A shed of squalor. The infected had been put inside and left. A beaded necklace hung from the ceiling, a lucky charm meant to bestow the favor of the Gods. The holy man had long since vanished, along with their money and their hope.
The doctors were unable to save any of the entombed bodies that day. They were too far gone. But they did manage to confine the spread of the virus in that part of the city, all thanks to Kid, whose tiny bony legs protruded from the truck’s cab.
Z-MINUS: 4 hours 46 minutes
They kept the dirt road on their left, following it like a manmade river. It turned and swerved, made long bends, and headed into the unknown like a well-worn path into the mind. Lucy peered at the foliage as if it would attempt to swallow them at any moment.
They headed north, stopping every few minutes for Lucy to catch up. She was struggling, clutching a hand to her side in pain. She popped pain killers at an alarming rate. Every time Mark asked if she needed to stop, she shook her head, breathing shallowly through her teeth. She was pale, a thick veneer of sweat on her forehead. They needed to get to the rendezvous point fast.
Mark raised a hand. They stopped. Lucy’s head swiveled even more, eyes wide and afraid. Mark got onto his stomach and crawled forward, lifting a
A little boy came running along the road, clocking a fair clip. His bare feet kicked up a cloud of dust.
It was Kid.
He’d come by the camp often enough for Mark to recognize him at a glance. Kid had the ability to make an appearance whenever a soldier turned around. Clean water? He was there. A trinket to take back home? He was there. The location of a remote local village? He was there.
But now his eyes were pained, his brow furrowed with well-worn lines. He skidded to a stop before Mark, hands on his knees, gasping for air.
“Sick… Sick people…” he said.
“Sick people?” Mark said. “You mean infected? Where?”
“Out… Outside,” Kid said, his lips turning white.
The situation put Mark in somewhat of a quandary. No CO would have believed the word of a young local lad, and if nothing came of it Mark would be taking the punishment. But he knew Kid, trusted him. He had nothing to gain by lying.
“Stand up and put your hands on your head,” Mark said. “It’ll expand your lungs.”
Kid did, though his arms shook with the effort.
“Can you take us to them?” Mark said.
Kid nodded, a weak effort.
“Roach, fetch a truck,” Mark said. “John, keep an eye on the queue. Jacob, inform the doctors about a possible outbreak outside the perimeter.”
Roach brought a truck around, full of soldiers in quarantine gear in the back. Mark carried Kid to the front seat, and carefully sat his fragile body on his lap.
Roach drove, weaving around the other cars and trucks and bikes, honking his horn to get them out of the way. He would have made a fair ambulance driver.
“Left,” Kid wheezed around half a mouthful of air.
He guided them to the other side of town. He had run a long way. It was no surprise he was so exhausted. Finally, Kid said: “Stop.”
They were surrounded by tin shacks that glinted in the sunlight.
“Where are they?” Mark said. “Where did you see them, Kid?”
Kid opened his eyes, raised his bony arm, and pointed with a shaky finger to a small shack at the end. Mark lay Kid’s body down on the seat. He left the door open and ran to open the back of the truck. The quarantine team were already climbing down the short ladder.
Locals saw the quarantine men and women in their shiny white suits and turned and ran. A clear sign of the approaching apocalypse to their eyes.
“In the shack at the end,” Mark said.
The quarantine team nodded and hustled inside. Mark didn’t see the scene himself but he later heard what they’d found.
A shed of squalor. The infected had been put inside and left. A beaded necklace hung from the ceiling, a lucky charm meant to bestow the favor of the Gods. The holy man had long since vanished, along with their money and their hope.
The doctors were unable to save any of the entombed bodies that day. They were too far gone. But they did manage to confine the spread of the virus in that part of the city, all thanks to Kid, whose tiny bony legs protruded from the truck’s cab.
Z-MINUS: 4 hours 46 minutes
They kept the dirt road on their left, following it like a manmade river. It turned and swerved, made long bends, and headed into the unknown like a well-worn path into the mind. Lucy peered at the foliage as if it would attempt to swallow them at any moment.
They headed north, stopping every few minutes for Lucy to catch up. She was struggling, clutching a hand to her side in pain. She popped pain killers at an alarming rate. Every time Mark asked if she needed to stop, she shook her head, breathing shallowly through her teeth. She was pale, a thick veneer of sweat on her forehead. They needed to get to the rendezvous point fast.
Mark raised a hand. They stopped. Lucy’s head swiveled even more, eyes wide and afraid. Mark got onto his stomach and crawled forward, lifting a
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