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“I was in my second year of school at Boston U when it started,” Kendra says. “My parents were in New York, and they caught the second wave or whatever they’re officially calling it. They went quick, too.”
“It’s better than the alternative,” I mutter.
“Yeah, I’ve heard.”
I close my eyes as if that could stop the brief memory of my mother’s hospital bed. Images of lights flashing, overworked medical staff unable to respond in time, and that sickening feeling of utter and complete hopelessness invade my mind.
“I was only with them for a couple of hours,” she says. “It was my dad’s birthday, and we went out for dinner in the city—his favorite Italian place. I didn’t think…well, I thought I was fine. It was more than a month later, and I had no symptoms or anything.”
“I’m familiar with that feeling.” I grit my teeth, wondering how long she’d been running around, potentially infecting others. I make a wide gesture at the hotel balconies all around us. “All of us here are. No one wants to be here, but we have to be for the common good.”
“I wasn’t in a city,” she says quietly. “I got away from the population centers, didn’t touch people, wore a mask—all of that shit. I wasn’t trying to—”
“Yeah, we all did that,” I interrupt. “We were sure we weren’t infected. We were sure we wouldn’t be the one to pass it along to others. We were careful. Except we weren’t. Don’t make excuses, especially not to me. I had all the same thoughts when I realized what was happening, but I didn’t even get an opportunity to run. I was picked up before I even had a chance to think about it.”
“If you had the chance, what would you have done?”
“I don’t know.” I grit my teeth. “Not endanger everyone around me would have been first though.”
“Sorry,” she says quietly.
“For what? Getting caught?”
She tucks her long hair back behind her ear and plays with the cigarette for a moment before taking a long drag. Eventually, she turns back to me.
“For everything that happened to you,” she says. “I’m sure living here isn’t easy.”
“It beats dying.”
“Does it?”
I glance over at her, but she’s leaning over the rail, looking way down to the street below. The mist is gathering in her hair and darkening the shoulders of her green, government issue T-shirt. I don’t have an answer to her question.
“When did you know?” I ask.
“Know what?”
“That you were a carrier?”
“I didn’t,” she says. “I got the notice to report for testing and just left. I didn’t know for sure until they caught up with me last week, and I tested positive.”
“How many people do you think you infected?” I can’t help the disgust in my voice though I’m not sure why I’m so angry with her. Maybe it’s because she may have spread the virus to others, or maybe it’s because she had all this time out in the open, and I didn’t. Maybe it’s just because her presence is a reminder of everyone I lost.
“No one, I hope,” Kendra says in a low voice. “Like I said, I got away from everyone.”
“That was because you didn’t want to get caught.”
“I was heading for the mountains,” she says.
“My sister’s in the mountains. Did you meet up with her? Shall I count her among my dead now?”
“I never made it that far,” she says quietly.
“Well, kumbaya. At least I have one family member left!” I throw the cigarette butt out over the balcony railing before moving back into the room and slamming the sliding door shut.
Chapter Two: Day 132
“Sean?”
