My Dead World Read Online Free Page B

didn’t expect a rush to the store or a huge exodus from the city. The outbreak was passed over. However, I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be long before things cascaded out of control.

SEVEN – The hand that feeds
May 5
     
    I made my last run to the cabin with a full truck on April 21. That was the last time. After that, things got crazy and at the urging of my father, I had to stop. People would see and possibly follow. They were stocking up. The price of a case of water had gone to forty dollars. It was insane. My father purchased a handgun and we expected another flag from Homeland. It never happened.
    We were still in the city waiting on Bobby to give us the go ahead to leave. When he finally did, all we would have on us, when we left the house, were minimal supplies.
    I went from thinking we were wasting our time, to wondering if we had waited too long to leave. Initially, after the news broke about the virus there was very little mentioned about it. Then all of the sudden, it went from updates, to news segments, to continuous coverage.
    They closed down the schools a week earlier. I had to explain to the girls what was going on. At first they asked if they were going to get sick, but after a day or so they faded into their own world, oblivious to it all.
    What started as a few cases in Europe turned into a full-fledged, global pandemic. Israel was the first to close their borders and within days many others followed. There were arguments about if it was inhumane to shut out people, or to quarantine them.
    I stopped focusing on the cases overseas when the first case appeared in Houston.
    It was one case, then two, then another in Atlanta, then a hospital shut down in Dallas. The news coverage showed maps with red spots indicating every place the virus appeared. Every day the red grew. The worst thing was not hearing from Bobby. He was on communication lock down and his calls were monitored because of national security. His messages became cryptic.
    Most of my information regarding the virus I received from the news. It was always the same thing.
    “What do we know now about it?” The newscaster would ask.
    “We know it’s not airborne, but it is easily transmitted through bodily fluids, saliva and such,” an expert from one of the health organizations answered.
    “What are the symptoms?”
    “Flu like symptoms. Fever, chills, vomiting and diarrhea, and in some cases abnormal behavioral changes.”
    “Like with rabies?”
    “I’m not at liberty to say.”
    “Have there been reports of violence and death?” the newscaster asked.
    “There’s a lot of chaos and rioting, we’re fighting to keep that under control as much as the virus.”
    “Meanwhile, cities are closing down, quarantine borders are being placed into effect as a precaution to try to contain what is being called this generation’s Spanish Flu.”
    Even though I learned nothing new, I still listened.
    Then we heard from Bobby. He called from a landline. “I’m on my way back to the states,” he said. “I’m being placed in a thirty day quarantine lockdown. I don’t believe I was exposed, but it’s a precaution. My access to calls will be limited.”
    “Thirty days? What happened to three days from exposure to infection?”
    “We’re seeing cases that extend that time frame. In some instances the infected were injured almost a month ago, had no other exposure and got sick.”
    “Injured?”
    “I have to go. Just remember it will be time to go when you hear of a case in the city.”
    Then he hung up. I questioned whether we would know if there was a case in the city. There seemed to be cases everywhere.
    It sent my father into a tizzy. On our last day in the city, he rushed into the house. “We have to go. We should go now.” It was typical, he did it daily.
    “Bobby hasn’t said …”
    “Bobby hasn’t said much,” My father cut me off. “Hell, he’s in quarantine. We won’t hear from him for two more weeks. What are