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There was still hope. The news had said over half of the people who caught it survived. Carly would wonder later if that was just a way of trying to keep the panic down, to keep the Infected in their homes drinking chicken soup instead of clogging the roads and trying to reach the already overcrowded hospitals.
The violent illness wracked Gloria’s body as her fever climbed to alarming heights. Then the delirium set in, and she talked to long-dead relatives, screamed that there were spiders crawling on her, and failed to recognize either her husband or daughter. Carl had to tie Gloria’s hands to the headboard to keep her from digging bloody furrows in her arms, clawing away the spiders only she could see.
They’d tried everything. They tried putting Gloria into a tub of cold water to bring down the fever. They’d given her aspirin, which was the only drug they had in their apartments. They tried to keep her hydrated, though every drop of liquid they put into her came right back up. Carl had tried to contact the hospital, but 911 rang busy. When he drove to the hospital to see if there was any way he could get Gloria admitted, he had come home pale, his eyes filled with the horrors he had seen there. He hadn’t mentioned the hospital after that.
And then one afternoon while Carly was sponging the sweat from her mother’s shivering body, Carl had looked at his daughter and said, “I have it, too.”
His illness seemed to progress much faster, or perhaps Carly had been so wrapped up in trying to help her mother she hadn’t noticed when he’d had the lightly symptomatic stage. Carl had known what was coming and faced it with calm stoicism.
“Listen to me, Sugar Bear ...” He had used the nickname he’d given Carly as a baby. Carl looked over at his wife, who had slipped into unconsciousness so deep it was probably a coma. He smoothed the hair back from Gloria’s sweat-soaked forehead. Her breaths were shallow and panting. “We’re not going to make it.” Carl’s smile was gentle, even though tears glittered in his eyes.
“Daddy, please—”
“I don’t have much time, and I need to talk to you while I still can. I want you to leave, Carly. Get out of here and go home, and don’t come out for anyone. Understand? You stay inside, where it’s safe, until this thing is over.”
“I can’t. I can’t leave you.” Carly wouldn’t go, no matter how much he begged. To be honest, a small part of her was almost hoping she would become infected herself so this horror would all be over.
When she took small breaks to get food for herself, Carly watched the news, watched the world fall apart, live, in living color. Her mind replayed some of those images in her dreams. She saw the famous HOLLYWOOD sign ablaze from uncontained wildfires, the riots in Chicago, the refugees trying to pour out of New York across the Brooklyn Bridge, stopped by National Guard troops, and the horrible moment when the crowd had realized they were more powerful in their sheer numbers.
Carly took care of her parents the best she could. She tried to keep them cool, to pour liquids into them, and clean up the mess when those liquids came back up. Days blended into one another, and it seemed as if she had spent a lifetime in that room of suffering. Carly was so exhausted she started having small hallucinations herself. From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw tiny movements that made her jump and gasp. Her overwrought nerves reacted to the shots of adrenaline through her system, which made her more exhausted.
Her dream mercifully skipped over what had happened next. Sometimes it didn’t, and she was forced to relive their deaths. During the day, she could shove the thought away by force, but her dreams were uncontrollable.
Carly had clasped her parents’ hands together before covering them with the blanket and returning to her own apartment, numb with horror and grief. She’d tried calling 911 to report her parents’ deaths, but it always rang busy. It rang busy until the day the phone didn’t work any longer.
She woke with tears on her cheeks. Sam gave a soft whimper and crawled closer to lay his head on Carly’s stomach. His eyes were sad and sympathetic. She scratched behind his ears to show him she was all right and sat up on the side of the bed. Another day to get through.
Carly scooped out a bowl of food for Sam and went over to the window. She let out a gasp of distress when she saw Justin’s tent was gone. She was surprised at how upsetting it was. She spun, ran to the apartment door, and flung it open. Sam bounded after her, ready for his morning outside time. She skidded to a halt when she found Justin in a sleeping bag in the hallway. Relief washed over her, a feeling she didn’t quite understand.
Justin’s eyes opened, and he gave her a sleepy smile. “Morning, Darly.”
“Carly,” she said, too distracted by his presence to be irritated at him for getting her name wrong again. “What are you doing in here?”
“The mosquitoes were bad.” Justin sat up and yawned. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“I... uh... I guess not.” Carly wondered how he had gotten through the locked lobby doors. It was a thought that made her vaguely uneasy.
“I’ll take Sam outside for you, if you’d like.”
Carly hesitated. She wasn’t sure if she trusted Justin enough to let him take Sam, but not because she thought Justin might hurt him. Sam meant everything to her. Without him, she might have surrendered to her despair. He had given her a reason to go on, a listening ear, comfort, and companionship. Carly was reluctant to let him out of her sight.
“Just out to the courtyard,” he said. Carly was a little startled he knew about it, but she supposed he was the type of person who would explore the whole building and search for other exits. Her dad had been the same way. Thinking of him made Carly recall Justin’s tattoo and what her dad had said the symbol meant.
“All right. I’ll be right back.” Carly went into the kitchen and got a plastic shopping bag.
“What’s this?” Justin took it from her.
“To clean up after him. There’s a trash can—”
Justin shook his head. “Do you think that’s necessary?”
Carly blinked. “Of course it is. It’s rude just to leave it.”
Justin stuffed the bag in his pocket and said nothing.
“Out,” she said to Sam and pointed at Justin. Sam understood and trotted over to Justin with his tail wagging expectantly. Justin patted him on the head, and they started down the hallway toward the back staircase.
Carly left her door open, though it made her very nervous, and went into the bathroom to brush her teeth. She couldn’t help trying the tap again and was a little disappointed when nothing but air came out. She’d hoped Justin was wrong and the water would come back. She used her toilet, and with regret, she flushed it for the last time. She’d been trying to save that last flush, but since Justin was there, she was too embarrassed not to do it.
