The Ruins Of Tomorrow

01. The Beginning

Those who are infected are as good as dead.

It was close to the end of September, and things have been quite the same. We would wake up, eat, exercise if we had to, and then end the day by taking a cold shower; we had no hot water. If we wanted some we had to heat a bucket of water above the fire pits stationed around the military camp. And it was your responsibility if you wanted warm water to shower with.

I didn't want to die of hypothermia, so I hurried up and boiled my bucket of cold water no later than six o'clock because the lines would linger on until eight o'clock.

And lights out are at nine.

No one could wander out and about after that time. If one guard caught you sneaking out of your tent, they would take you to a "time out session," inside a distant building where you would sleep the rest of the night without a sleeping bag or blanket. It didn't matter if it was cold or warm that night. The military didn't care as long as you weren't sick.

We'd been stuck in the filthy camp for weeks, already feeling like a long-ass year that wouldn't seem to end. Many argued with the military, creating fights because they demanded answers as to what was happening outside the walls. Others complained about why the servers kept giving out the same thing every day: oatmeal, bread, or beans with a side of rice.

There was no way for us to call anyone, no way to hear the voices of our loved ones that were left behind or got stuck at airports or train stations because the military had lost connection to radio towers and the walkie-talkies could not pick up a signal. We didn't know how much worse it had gotten.

We're safe. The military will keep us safe, many thought.

But for how long?

They'd given us plenty to help us stay intact for a while. There were tents spread out around the large premise, cramped but tolerable structures. We had to stay in our groups assigned by the soldiers. It felt like dogs tied to a chain. People were paired with their families while others were randomized and put with complete strangers.

We were like lab rats, doctors had to check every person sick or not for symptoms or any changes to our health. Not only that, but they had strict protocols. The sick were divided from the healthy folks. Those who were experiencing symptoms, family or not, had to be separated. It was already hard enough to hear the random cries of people not being able to stay or embrace a loved one because they were contagious.

A woman named Martha and her daughter Melanie shared the same tent as mine. She greeted me with a smile but kept her distance. There were two other adults. A young couple that went by the name of Ivan and Mariya. I knew they were together because they both wore matching rings on their right fingers. They also carried distant gazes and only focused on themselves instead of socializing with the rest of us. It was fine by me though. I didn't care at all.

The children were most wary. It was a frightening sight for them who were lined up to receive their breakfast and had to catch on to the dry coughing and moaning coming from those who were confined inside the chain-link fence. They had to deal with the many conversations and stories of what people had gone through during the downfall of the world. They didn't care how explicit it was for the children or their caring parents. It was the truth for us all. The world we live in now.

"You're safe," the mothers assured. They thought they sounded confident.

The mothers made it simple for their children. "You see that yellow line? As long as you don't go over it. You'll be fine. You won't get sick and the sick won't be able to get you."

Don't step over the paint. Stay at arm's length from them. The sick have their own zone, we have ours.

I'd woken up late and got stuck in the long line for breakfast when something shuffled up front. A middle-aged man with black hair was causing a commotion with the servers. His voice was loud and low, hands on hips as he proclaimed his family was not getting treated with proper full meals but scraps of leftover food.