Aftermath

Chapter 18

Returning tothe base, Sam and I lugged the solar panel through the entrance,eliciting curious glances from our fellow survivors. "We foundsomething that might change the game," I announced, setting thepanel down in the center of the community area.

Sara, always adept athandling electrical tasks, immediately stepped forward. "Whatdid you two scavenge this time?" she asked, a playful smirk onher face.

"Behold,"Sam exclaimed, pointing at the solar panel. "This beauty isgoing to make our lives a lot easier."

Sara inspected it, noddingapprovingly. "Good find. Let's wire it up to the wall so itdoesn't get buried under snow. Winter is just getting started."

As Sara worked herelectrical magic, I hooked the iPad to the solar panel. The screenflickered to life, displaying the familiar Apple logo. "Let'ssee if this thing has any juice left," I said, crossing myfingers.

To our collectivesurprise, the iPad booted up. The screen illuminated with a softglow, and as the date appeared, a hushed excitement swept through thecrowd. "December 18th, 2052," I announced, grinning at Sam."Now we know the date. It's been over a month since we left thebunker."

The realizationseemed to settle in, and murmurs of approval and relief spread amongthe group. The iPad became an instant focal point, with everyonetaking turns marveling at the rare sight of a functional piece ofpre-war technology. It was a small victory, a reminder that even inthis desolate world, a glimmer of the past could still illuminate thefuture.

As the communitymarveled at the newfound technology, I couldn't shake off a growingsense of unease. A sudden wave of weakness washed over me, and Ifound myself swaying slightly on my feet. Concerned, my mother,always attentive to the well-being of the group, noticed mycondition.

"Anne, are you okay?"she asked, her voice laced with worry. I attempted to dismiss it,blaming fatigue, but the queasiness persisted. Feeling a suddenchill, I wrapped my arms around myself.

Mom ushered me to aquiet corner, away from the excited chatter of the group. Sheexamined me with a furrowed brow, her maternal instincts kicking in."You don't look well," she observed. "Let me take alook."

Despite my attempts todownplay the situation, my mother's examination revealed adisconcerting truth. The infection that the boy from the newcomers'group had brought with him had stealthily taken root in me. Theinitial symptoms had been subtle, but now, as my temperature rose andmy body weakened, it became evident that a small pandemic wassilently unfolding within our community.

News of my conditionspread like wildfire, casting a somber shadow over the jubilantatmosphere. Concerned murmurs replaced the joyful conversations, andanxious glances were exchanged among the survivors. The newfound hopefrom the solar panel discovery was abruptly overshadowed by thethreat of illness infiltrating our once secure haven.

As the realization ofthe potential outbreak sunk in, panic spread through the communitylike wildfire. An impromptu meeting was called, and Derek, Sara, Sam,and I gathered everyone to discuss a plan of action. With tensionhanging in the air, we emphasized the need for quarantine measures tocontain the spread of the infection.

Sara, who had somemedical knowledge, took charge of organizing a makeshift quarantinearea. We designated a separate section of the settlement for thoseshowing symptoms, erecting a barrier made of sheets and blankets. Theinfected individuals, including me, were gently guided to this area,while the rest of the community watched with a mix of concern andfear.

Derek, armed withpracticality, began instructing the others on basic hygiene and theimportance of regular handwashing. Supplies like masks and gloveswere distributed to those tending to the sick. Sam assisted ingathering these provisions, his efficiency providing a sense of orderamid the chaos.