Blue Plague: The Great Silence

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

“I went back and bought a huge supply of cat food. After that’s gone, they’ll be on their own, but there will be lots of rats and mice and…I’m so sorry. Here I am supposed to be taking care of you, and I’m falling apart with the what-ifs and worst-case scenarios. I’m scared, Bruce.”

“So am I, son. Come here.”

We both needed that hug.

“Well, then there now,” I said as Burk pulled away and wiped his eyes. “Do you think it’s too soon to start raiding the neighbors? Or too late to haul more supplies in from the stores?”

Burk fell onto the couch. Two cats climbed on his lap. The third one just lay where he was on the floor. He looked dead. “Do you have a gun?” Burk asked. “I do. I have a small handgun in my duffel bag. It’s mostly for show, but I can use it if necessary.”

“No, I don’t, but the guy next door does, and dead or alive, we can use it. If he’s dead, we’ll get it, and if he’s alive, well…” I tilted my head. How much did I know about the guy next door? He, too, had inherited his house from his parents. He was straight, I think. Well, I shouldn’t hold that against him. What I was trying to determine was whether if he lived, he’d be an asset to our survival, or a drag on our resources, or, worse. “You know what, if the phones work, I’ll call him. If there’s no answer, that’s somewhat of an answer in itself.”

“How long would the phones work? I have mine plugged in upstairs, recharging. Is he on f*******: or whatever? Email?” Burk asked while rubbing cat bellies.

“Watch out for the black one—I call her Elvira for a reason—oh, she’s not on your lap. She’s the fat black one on the floor by your foot. Nudge her gently for me, will you? Only if she’s dead, don’t tell me!” I laughed the most fake and feeble laugh I’ve ever heard come out of a human being, but the gasp and half-sob that came with it were very real. I knew the truth without even looking to see if there was blood.

Burk looked down, then at me. “It’s your turn to cook supper,” he said quietly.

Without another word, I got up and went into the kitchen.

Over a somewhat burned meal, Burk said, “I’m really sorry. The other two kitties seem fine. I found a shovel in the laundry room. It’s all taken care of. I’m so sorry. I have a dog at home. Well, she lives with my parents now. I should call them, but Bruce, would you…I mean…”

“I’ll call them for you,” I said. “No worries, dear. No worries.”

Neither of us ate much, and as I took the phone from his hand and went back into the den, he started cleaning up the leftovers and fussing over my two remaining cats, Felicia, and Paris.

Goodbye, Elvira, I thought. I will miss you.

His parents’ phone just rang and rang. There wasn’t even a voicemail. They must be as old-fashioned as I was, I thought. I hoped.

We stayed in the kitchen, watching the two cats sniff at their food and wander around, obviously looking for their friend.

“Is that the neighbor with the gun, I mean, that house?” Burk asked, looking out the window.

“Yes. I don’t see any lights on. Should I…”

“No!” Burk was vehement. “You have a game leg. I’ve had, ah, experience in, ah, this sort of thing.” He looked furtive, or like he was pretending to look furtive. “Actually, it’s true,” he added, smiling. “I got in trouble in junior high because I wanted to be a detective, so I learned how to pick locks and practiced on the neighbors and my sister’s bedroom.” He blushed.

“But if he’s home,” I said, “You’re too young to die. I’m old and expendable.”

“Shush. Do you know where he keeps them?”

“He has a gun cabinet in his den. It’s to the right of the living room. If you go out our back door, that’s his side door you’ll see behind that gate by the gladiolas. Oh, dear, do be careful!”

He laughed at me. Laughed at me! “Yes, Aunt Mary!” He slid quietly out the door. He wore all black, and I’d been the only one at the gin, so there was that. What had I gotten myself into, bringing this boy home with me?

I should have been washing dishes or something, but instead, I turned off the light and stood by the window, trying to acclimate my eyes to the pitch darkness. There was plenty of light, streetlights down the way, other house lights, and car headlights—business as usual again, right? But next door was dark and quiet. I stared and thought I saw a blacker spot moving against the other black. I heard someone on the street and then steps. Was someone climbing the stairs up to his house? Mine? Both were equally bad. Had someone called the police? What if the boy tripped or fell, or there was a trap set, or my neighbor was home, sitting quietly in the dark, maybe holding a gun in his lap, waiting.

Suddenly, something leapt up onto the counter right in front of me, and I screamed like a little girl. Of course, it was only one of the cats, and I didn’t care which one. My heart pounded, and I staggered into the bathroom because, all of a sudden, that’s where I needed to be most. And quickly. But what if there was blood? What if I died? What if…shit. I tripped over the other cat and only saved myself from falling onto the floor by hitting the wall.

Believe it or not, I was laughing so hard by then, mostly at myself, the fact that I made the bathroom in time was a shock. And the fact that I needn’t have worried was a wonderful, if unpleasant, surprise. First time I’d ever been grateful to have only diarrhea.

After I finished, still giggling a bit, somewhat hysterical, I made my way back to the living room and tuned into the classical station on my old-fashioned radio. It was 9:30 Sunday night, and I always liked to listen to the Compline service from St. Mark’s. It always brought me peace and hope, even tonight, although the choir seemed a bit skimpy, which wasn’t surprising at all.

However, at the very end, the minister said, “This will be our last broadcast. We hope you will continue to find good health and great serenity in these trying times. Goodnight, and good luck.”

I wanted more gin, but I had a cat on my lap, and you know how that is. So I just sat in the darkness, listened to some prerecorded music, and waited for Burk to come home. And as I sat there with the warm, purring lump on my lap, thinking of everything that had happened in the last week, I wondered how my coworkers were doing. What about the people in the airport I had departed from? Had they been exposed to the dog from Hell? What about my nieces and nephews and my brother and sister-in-law, that b***h? What was it about this boy who had come home with me? Why had neither he nor I died? Had we had mild cases? Could we still catch it? What about my remaining two cats?

Oh, s**t, I thought. Was I now going to bawl over all of this, or just over my cat in particular?

No. Nope, not at all. My mind went back to the boy, Burk. What an odd name. Maybe it was a family name or a nickname. What did I really know about him? I hadn’t even seen him naked, not that I’d mind. Whew, it was getting warm in here! He was such a nicely built young man, accent on the young, and man…I wonder, no. I said I wouldn’t bother him in that way. But what if he wanted…what if there was just the two of us, or were just the two of us? What if, crap, now my lap was disturbing the cat, after all.

I almost jumped off the chair when he spoke beside me. “Success!” Poor cat was caught between him and a hard place.

I almost laughed. “What about him, my neighbor, Mr. Um…?”

“Let’s just say I hope you weren’t too fond of him. Here, should we hide these? Tomorrow, we can figure out how to use them. I raided his stash of ammo, too. Gosh, I’m tired, and I want to cry, but I’ll settle for a hug instead.”

Hauling the cat with me, we moved to the couch, sat beside each other, and cuddled. I felt so safe with him there, for some strange reason, that I started to doze off.

“You stay here,” he said quietly. “I’m going to go raid his pantry. He won’t be needing any of the food he has there. He doesn’t have any other pets, does he?”

“Other?” I asked, rousing. “Just the one dog, Muttsky.”

“Not anymore.” Burk sighed. And he sniffed, wiped his nose, and glided back out the door.

Feeling useless, I limped into the hallway, scooted down the stairs on my butt, and started hunting around the storage room for empty boxes. I felt unsettled by his need for fast action, but didn’t see any reason to stop it either. At the work site, when I’d gotten beaten up, nobody stepped up to help me, and here, I was grateful to have this healthy young person to run all over and do the things he felt needed to be done. I’d read some science fiction, too, and you either assume the s**t has hit the fan, or you get hit. Under my wisdom, however, I was glad that, so far, all our intense and fretful actions were done in private, or at least would never come to light among the living.

Burk filled up box after box, just stacking them in the kitchen. When I scooted back upstairs, he was putting ammo in one of the guns. He must have seen my jaw drop, but he said, “Not to worry. I’m just going to the pharmacy down the street. Need anything?”

After he left, I sat at the kitchen table with my head in my hands. I was hurting; all my bruises were screaming at me. I noticed some of what Burk had brought needed to be refrigerated, so I worked on putting that away. Then I made as much ice as I could and dragged the picnic cooler out of the pantry. That might extend things a bit if the power went out. This was getting serious, yet I wanted to ignore the whole thing. I deliberately left the TV off and stayed away from the computer as well. Yes, I had a few friends and some family to worry about, but maybe I’d do that later. There was no way I could help any of them now anyhow.

I realized I hadn’t heard any aircraft for quite a while. The sky had not been this quiet since 9/11, when the only plane in the sky had been one solitary jet returning to the naval air station on Whidbey Island. I wondered if there were any submarines out, like in Nevil Shute’s book On the Beach. Was it better that our air was still breathable, and nothing had happened to the planet but a great and possibly overdue cleansing of its human population?

To keep the what ifs out of my mind, I started organizing the pantry and making room for more supplies.