Eve Langlais - Apocalypse Cowboy

“If you leave, don’t ever come back. I won’t wait for you.” Hannah tilted her chin up obstinately, even as she hugged her breasts together to form a shadowy cleavage. Any tactics from threats to seduction were fair game in her battle to make him stay.

For a moment his eyes glittered with interest, but he shook his head, casting off her alluring attempt. “I can’t. If I don’t leave now, I never will. I have no intention of ending up like my dad and everyone else in this town.”

She wanted to ask for the umpteenth time why that bothered him so; after all, his father ran a successful business as the town's mortician, even if it happened to be one that dealt in death. And if the funeral business wasn’t his niche, there were other things Brody-short for Broderick-could do.

“Your dad happens to be happy. What’s wrong with that? You don’t have to leave.” Her lower lip trembled, and tears flooded her vision. Sneaky, but damn it, she had to make him see reason.

A calloused thumb wiped the tear that ran down her cheek. For a moment, he wavered at her evident distress, his face clouding with confusion. Determination made it harden again, and he shook his head.

“I love you, Hannah, and I want to be with you, but I can’t stay here. I know I can make something of myself if I leave. Come with me.” He held out his hand, inviting her to ditch everything she cared about, everything she knew to start from scratch with only the clothes on her back. And, much as it broke her heart to lose him, she couldn’t go. No, make that she wouldn’t go.

“No. Unlike you, I’m not afraid to stay and make a place for myself. If you loved me, you’d stay too.”

“Don’t be this way. You know how much I love you.”

“Yes, I do know. Not enough.” Her voice cracked, and her vision wavered.

He recoiled. “I do love you and when I make it, I’ll come back for you. You’ll see. I won’t forget you, kitten.”

Hysterical laughter threatened even as she swallowed salty tears. “If you leave now, the end of the world would have to come before I’d ever consider forgiving you.” She turned her back on him, making her final stand.

But her ultimatum didn’t stop him. The rumble of his motorcycle starting and the sound of it receding as he made good on his words masked her harsh sobs.

I’ll never forgive you for this, Brody. Even if you were the last man on earth, I’d never take you back.

Turned out she had a gift for prophecy.

Six months after Brody left, the world ended with a sneeze.

Well, at least, that was Hannah’s theory. Kind of like that butterfly effect people talked about, except this one killed off most of the human population.

She’d been sitting down to dinner with her sister and uncle in the living room-their habit, since the death of her parents in a car crash-when the news came on. The announcer, in a grave tone, spoke of a new epidemic that had broken out. Hannah barely listened to the report. After the previous year's overrated swine flu scare, she put little stock in what the media sensationalized for ratings. The WHO-the World Health Organization, always one to hog attention-immediately clamored to any news source that would listen. They claimed the world was about to experience a deadly pandemic. But, kind of like the boy who cried wolf, people scoffed, no longer believing the officials after seeing their previous panic about a flu that did not come close to living up to its expectations.

When the nightly news started posting the number of deaths caused by this super flu, Hannah and her family began following the daily reports with morbid fascination. Those who had initially mocked the WHO fell silent, in many cases permanently. In her little town that had not yet been touched by the fatal influenza, it was all they could talk about at the diner where she worked full time since dropping out of college to support her sister and uncle.

The H5N1, more commonly known as the avian flu, cut a deadly swathe through the world. No one knew where it had started because it sprang up in several countries at once. Within just a few weeks, several million people worldwide were dead and millions more sick. They’d finally encountered the big one, a flu strain that mutated and proved resistant to all drugs and infected quicker than wildfire. The most frightening part? Everyone who caught it died. No exceptions. Hannah began taking their temperature daily, watching herself and the little family she had left.

A month after the pandemic began, they sat riveted watching the president make an emergency address, urging people to quarantine themselves to avoid the spread of the virus and to not panic. Shaken, she’d held onto her sister and uncle’s hands-tightly-reality and fear finally making themselves known.

Will we all die? For one weak moment, she wished Brody were back, his solid arms wrapped around her, hiding her from the horror unfolding throughout the world.

Hannah didn’t bother going to work; there was no point. Patrons stopped coming either from self-imposed quarantines or, even more dreadful to contemplate, death. Besides, fear of catching the virus and infecting her family terrified her.

Being summer time, they had plenty to eat from their garden, and the chickens they kept provided eggs and meat. She and her family hid on their small property outside of town, the news their only contact with the outside world. The newscasters kept changing, more and more inexperienced folks being put in front of the camera to relay reports that offered not one shred of hope. Then, one day, none of the channels had anything to say; all of them displayed the emergency broadcast screen. Hannah hid in the bathroom that day and cried, terrified but determined to be strong for her family who now needed her more than ever.

At the beginning of fall, when the electricity failed, Hannah finally ventured forth. She had to know, silence and need making her crazy.

She drove into town, her hands, white-knuckled, clutching the steering wheel of their old Jeep Cherokee. As she cruised the barren streets, she saw and heard nothing.

Parking the SUV in the middle of the road, she looked around. Surely my family and I can’t be the only ones alive? Pretending a courage she didn’t feel, she got out of the Jeep, meaning to knock on some doors, find other survivors. She didn’t even make it one step. The perfume of death filled the air. Overpowering and vile, it made her fall to her knees. Even worse, it had a sound: the buzzing of flies. The sick humming made her retch uncontrollably on the pavement. Before her body had a chance to stop shuddering, she jumped back into her SUV and drove home like the devil himself chased her.

Her sister and uncle took one look at her ashen face when she walked in and asked no questions.

Winter approached quickly though and while they had a wood stove and cords of wood, they needed food. Their summer stash of vegetables had dwindled even with the canning they’d done.

Hannah skipped breakfast and made another trip into town. She stopped her Jeep in the parking lot of the grocery store then closed her eyes, looking for courage. The faces of her uncle and sister floated into her mind and gave her motivation. I can’t let them starve because I’m weak. She prepped herself by smearing Vaseline under her nose then wrapped a bandanna around the lower half of her face.

The fumes from the Vaseline made her eyes water but, blinking back tears, she clambered out of the Jeep and to the entrance of the store. The main door hung drunkenly, its clear panes smashed. She stepped gingerly through the shards of glass into the gloomy store. She grabbed a shopping cart and began throwing nonperishables into it. Every shadow she encountered made her jump and start. I wish I’d thought to bring a flashlight.