Greg Krojac - The Schrödinger Enigma

“Hello again. I’m Jason. And Sleeping Beauty here is Enak.”

Sitara accepted the handshake.

“I’m Sitara. Pleased to meet you, Jason. Sorry to be so direct, but do you have anything to eat? I’m starving. I haven’t eaten for hours.”

Jason took two packets of Oreos from the glove compartment.

“Not exactly a square meal, I’m afraid.”

He handed the packets to Sitara, who gratefully started to eat. She continued eating while she thanked him, something that her mother wouldn’t have approved of. Talking with one’s mouth full was a definite failure of etiquette in her eyes. But Sitara was far too hungry to worry about observing the niceties of table manners.

“Thanks for the cookies, Jason.”

“No problem.”

“Your friend’s name is Enak? That’s unusual.”

Jason accelerated off the hard shoulder to continue driving along the road.

“Strange name, strange man. I’ve only just met him, but he seems ok. He saved my life back in Bethesda, so that’s a good start. I’ll introduce you properly when he wakes up. We can get something more substantial to eat too.”

Sitara fastened her seatbelt, and suddenly realized that she was sharing the rear seat with a semi-automatic rifle. She told herself to ignore it, it shouldn’t be a surprise that these men have armed themselves – nobody knew what dangers may lay ahead. In normal times she was fervently in favour of strict gun controls, but these were no longer normal times. Jason looked in the rear-view mirror and could see that Sitara’s eyes kept glancing towards the rifle.

“There’s a coat on the parcel shelf. You can cover it up with the coat if you like.”

“Sorry?”

“The rifle. Cover the rifle with a coat if you like. There’s a coat on the rear dash. I can see the gun’s bothering you. I don’t like the idea of civilians having guns either, but these days you need something to protect yourself with. Not all survivors are going to be nice people.”

Sitara covered the weapon and immediately felt more relaxed.

“You’re a Brit aren’t you?”

“My accent gave it away, yeah?”

“I like the British accent. Kinda sophisticated.”

“The accent may sound sophisticated to you Americans, but we’re like anyone else.”

“I’m actually from Pakistan originally, but I came to the States as a child. So why are you here?”

“I came over here a few years ago to work on an engineering project, liked it, met my wife and stayed.”

“Where’s your wife now?”

The delay in answering made Sitara wish she hadn’t asked the question, but it was difficult to suddenly eradicate normal everyday questions from small talk.

“She died. The plague.”

“I’m sorry. It was insensitive of me to ask.”

“It’s alright. It’s not your fault. The disease has taken so many people.”

Sitara suddenly felt a pang of guilt. She could well be the reason that Jason’s wife was dead. She and the crew of the Alaskan Mermaid had almost certainly brought the virus back to the mainland with them. But how could she have known?

“What about your friend, Enak? What does he do?”

“I’ll let him explain. As I said, I only met him this morning. I’ll tell you one thing though. I think he’s got one hell of a story to tell us.”

Sitara was feeling more comfortable now, and she was glad that she had ignored her mother’s advice. As the vehicle turned left onto MD-5 S/Mattawoman Beantown Road, Jason handed Sitara a bottle of Gatorade.

“Sorry, I should’ve offered you something to drink earlier.”

Sitara took the bottle from Jason’s outstretched hand.

“Thanks. I could do with that too.”

“So, what were you doing in Bethesda? You live there?”

Sitara saw no need to hide anything. The two – three of them now – were obviously in the same boat, immune to the disease. She’d rather that her rescuers know that she wasn’t a danger to them.

“I was at the Institute of Health. They were studying me, doing tests and what-not, to try to find out why I was immune.”

“I’d like to know that too. Everyone around me died, but not me. I reckon I must be immune too.”

“And your friend?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I assume he’s also immune.”

“Anyway, I was in an isolation room, helping them try to find a vaccine, when suddenly I realized that I was on my own. I was locked in the room and couldn’t get out. I thought I was going to die of thirst and starvation. Suzy – one of my nurses – let me out.”

“Where’s Suzy now?”

“Dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I managed to get out of the hospital but all I found outside were sick people dying and corpses all over the place. The city smelled like death. I had to get out of there. So I started walking, not caring where I was going. I just had to get away from there.”

Jason spotted a petrol station alongside a small outlet centre a couple of hundred yards further up the road.

“I’m going to pull in at that petrol station to see if there’s any food there. We don’t need fuel yet, the car already had a full tank when we picked it up, but we could do with more food.”

Sitara was glad of the pit stop.

“I’d like to get out of these clothes too. They’re not mine, they’re Suzy’s. There’s an outlet centre next to the gas station – there’s bound to be a clothes shop there.

Jason tapped Enak’s arm a few times until his eyes opened.

“Don’t be startled…”

“Startled?”

“Surprised. We have a guest. Enak, this is Sitara. Sitara, Enak.”

Sitara couldn’t help but notice that Enak’s physiognomy [20] I think “physiology” is more correct. was, to put it mildly, unusual, but she didn’t say anything.

“Pleased to meet you Enak.”

Jason reached back and took the rifle from underneath the coat on the rear seat.

“We’d better take this. We don’t know what we’re going to find in there. I just hope it’s food.”

Sitara reminded Jason of the other necessity.

“And clothes.”

“Yes. And clothes. But we should stick together though. We don’t know what or who we might find.”

Jason went first, being armed, and Enak and Sitara followed behind him. The fuel stop had obviously had no visitors for a while and Jason half expected to see tumbleweed trundle across his path as they walked towards the building. He looked through the window. The place seemed empty until he noticed a couple of bodies at the back of the shop area. He tried the door – it was locked. Enak nudged him aside and grasped the door handle, giving it both a sharp twist and a push at the same time. A sound of splintering wood accompanied the door falling open and the handle breaking off.

Jason went over to where the two bodies lay. It looked like the woman had been shot by the man, who had then turned the shotgun on himself. Both bore the marks of the disease, and had probably made a suicide pact. Jason covered the bodies with a thin opaque plastic sheet that was tucked under the counter, not so much out of respect but so that Sitara wouldn’t have to see what was left of the man’s shattered and blood-soaked jaw. He bent down and picked up the shotgun, handing it to Enak, who seemed quite bemused by the weapon. Jason found some boxes of shotgun cartridges on a shelf.

“I know it’s probably very primitive to you, seeing as you laughed at the cars, Enak, but it’s effective. I’ll show you how to use it later.”

He went into the storeroom and found it to still be well stocked.

“Come through here. I’m amazed that there’s still food here. Come and help me put some of these boxes in the car. Concentrate on the tinned stuff.”