Jacqueline Druga - Immune

South Pittsburgh

Paul had made it almost all the way to Erie, Pennsylvania. The highways were passable but when he stopped at the first roadblock, it wasn’t the military that stopped him from going forward. It was his conscience and guilt.

They asked for his identification while warning him to stay off the roads for his own safety.

“I’m with Emergency Management out of Pittsburgh,” Paul told them. “I know how bad this thing is.”

“At least they can spare you,” the soldier replied. “I know Erie needs all the help it can get.”

Spare him.

No one had spared him, because Paul ran. He ran without doing a damn thing. What made it worse was he had immunity and in doing so, he was able to help and he didn’t. He wasn’t sure how far the immunity factor carried. He knew the infected didn’t rage for him, but he did have one smell and nip at him.

After the solider said something so simple as ‘spare’, Paul was wracked with guilt. Did he leave too soon? It was his chosen field and he picked it because he wanted to help people. Running was not helping.

With that, he apologized to the soldier, turned his car around, and headed back.

He could see the glow of fires hovering over the city’s skyline as he made his approach. He took the long way into the city, avoiding the heart of it. His office was located on the east edge of town.

His cell phone was charging in the car and there was still service. Confident he would be all right, he pulled over and started making calls. He called everyone in his contact list that he worked with.

He received an answer from one person. A field worker named Carl. He was hiding out, and the infected were relentlessly trying to get him.

Paul informed him what he wanted to do. From what he’d heard on the radio, there were pockets of areas not affected, and some city emergency management teams managed to get things rolling. Better late than never, Paul wanted to do the same thing.

In order to implement it, he had to make it to the office, grab an Emergency Management case, and initiate the city’s Emergency Broadcast System.

Any DJ holding a post on the airwaves was lost as to what to tell people. They took phone calls from people reporting conditions. A church in Bloomfield was offering sanctuary and help; a police station in Wexford, everyone but the government. He wasn’t sure what he could do, but Paul would try.

Power was down in half the city. He hoped the generators kicked in. Unfortunately, Paul had to abandon his car a block from the Safety Building.

He hated the idea of leaving his car but abandoned vehicles made it impossible for him to pass. There were very few infected on the streets. Many had fled the city when the outbreak at the museum was announced.

With no street lights, it was pitch black and the distant sounds of the infected carried in the air.

He ran as fast as he could to his building, up the small number of steps, and reached for the door. It wasn’t locked. In fact, the door was ajar. He knew what he had to do once inside. Run up the stairs to the third floor, get to the director’s office, pull one of the cases from the cabinet, and fire up the generators so he could reach the uplink to the emergency broadcast system.

There were eight designated places around the city for shelter. Whichever case Paul grabbed first would be the shelter he would initiate.

The emergency lights in the hallway were out. He didn’t understand why, they were battery operated. Using his phone as a light, Paul ran down the hall to get to the stairwell.

Before he arrived, taking him by surprise, he heard the shifting of a shotgun chamber and a shadowy figure emerged from an office holding the weapon on him.

“Say something.” The voice was female but Paul couldn’t see who it was, she was in the dark.

“Don’t shoot?”

She lowered her weapon. “We’re grabbing supplies; you’re welcome to join us.”

“Supplies from where?” Paul asked.

“Vending machines. Lunch room. Trying to get all we can. Hunker down somewhere until this thing passes.”

“It’s not gonna pass for a while,” Paul said. “How many are here?”

She didn’t answer.

“Well, thank you for the invite, but I have to get to my office,” Paul said and moved to the stairwell. “I worked here.”

“Why in the world would you come back?”

“It’s the only way to get a shelter started. The city has the means and the supplies. I just need to get to them and get it up and running.”

“Are you going to call out to people?”

“If the generators get me to the main uplink of the EBS, then yes.”

“Will it be safe?”

“I don’t know. If I get enough people to show up, help, then maybe, yeah. I don’t know. To be honest I’m going at this blind. I was only a field worker and a nurse.”

“Do you know anything about what’s happening?”

“I know more than most,” Paul replied.

“Then let me tell the others and we’ll help you.”

“Thank you,” Paul said with a nod. “How many are you?”

“Four. Safety in numbers, right?”

“Well, that all depends.”

“On what?” she asked.

“If any of the numbers are immune,” he said. “If not, there is no safety.”

Mount Hallow

Myron hated the neighbor across the street. She always thought she was better than everyone else. Myron couldn’t figure it out. If she was all that why did she rent an apartment and not own some big house? He tried to be nice. He always waved and said hello, but she snubbed him.

Now she was wandering the front lawn of her house, nipping at the air and dragging her gimp leg that appeared to be half severed.

“Bubby, get away from the window,” his grandmother said.

“They don’t see me, Gram. I’m dying.”

“What?”

“Like in that movie. They don’t see me because I probably have a deadly disease.”

“Well at least cancer is good for something now.”

Myron’s mouth dropped open and he gasped. “I can’t believe you said that to me."

“You brought it up, Bubby. I think you are just special.”

“This is insane. How did this happen?”

“It was time for another plague. The world is too crowded.”

Myron looked back at his grandmother. She was playing on her tablet. “You’re keeping that charged, right? Because radio said a lot of places don’t have power.”

“All plugged in. We should go to Florida. It’s not that infected.”

“Yet.”

A sudden tone over the radio, followed by a series of buzzes, caused Myron to rush from the window to the radio. “Emergency broadcast.”

“It’s a little late.”

“Never too late.”

“The following message is from the Southern Pennsylvania Emergency Management Association.”

Buzz.

“Numerous power outages are being reported in the vicinity of the following counties: Allegheny, Westmoreland, Washington. There is no expected return time. Civilians are urged to use caution when traveling the roads. We are experiencing a biological emergency. Seal windows and doors. Restrict travel. Emergency shelters in the following locations will be operational at zero, six hundred hours.”

The computer voice rattled off only four locations.

“Caramount?” Grandmother said. “Did he say Caramount Elementary?” She stood.

“Yeah, he did.”

“Bubby, that’s not far at all.”

“Gram, I had to leave the car,” he said. “I don’t see how I can even get it close.” He walked back over and looked out the window. The street was a parking lot.