Mana

A Revisit

Chapter 6

I could only remember a time when I was this sick before today, and that was so long ago. I was bedridden, unable to open my eyes or eat without re-seeing my meal.

It all started a few days ago, when I'd started showing signs of tonsillitis again. Then came the upset stomach, the vomiting, the fatigue, and finally the weakness. It couldn't have come at a worse time, too. The entire northeast was going to be evacuated in a few days.

"C'mon, Ariana... just take this and try to hold it down..." Mason's voice. I opened my mouth, tasted the bitter medicine, and swallowed. Not even ten seconds later and my head was in the trash bag again. He groaned and there was a thump. I wish I had the strength to speak up and say sorry. There were footsteps out of the room, then they came back.

"Ari, I know you'll probably throw this up, but please drink this." Chi's voice. I opened again and tasted TheraFlu. This I had to keep down. I drank the hot tea, then prepared for if I was to throw up. Five minutes passed, and the TheraFlu was trying to make a reappearance. I fought to keep it down, but instead let it all out. Everyone was frustrated with my being sick, I knew that. All I could do was lay in this damned bed and cry.

More footsteps, then a fork on a plate. It must've been 3:00. "Open." Cam's voice. I opened my mouth and tasted pasta. The feeding continued, I fought extra hard to keep this meal down. "You're almost done, just keep it down for a little while then more tea." I couldn't respond, except for my continuous eating. When I was done, my stomach was already turning and I was retching.

"No, no no no don't--" I suddenly shot up, opened my eyes, and swallowed my meal again. I was looking in the mirror: I looked like a corpse. Pale, thinning, hair all over the place, eyes red. I fell forward and groaned, the most sound I'd managed in three days.

"Are you okay?" he asked. I groaned again. I curled into the fetal position and whined to myself. My back was being patted. "It's okay. You held down some food, that's all that matters." A pause. "Chi'll make some TheraFlu in a few hours. Just rest now."

This game of trying to keep down food went on to the next day. Now, I was shivering yet able to look around.

I got my daily rounds of food, medicine, TheraFlu, repeat. I was also filled in on current news: police had lost control of one zombie and it infected an entire day care of children. Riots were starting in Providence. Martial law was getting stricter; no one out after 6:00 P.M. or they would be taken into custody. I was disgusted at the world outside the walls of this house.

¤¤¤

I got up and used the broom as a cane. I hobbled into the living room where everyone was gathered.

"I want us to move." Everyone's attention was torn from the TV to me. I received a seat on the couch. "Things here are getting bad, I don't think it's safe. What if things get worse, riots happen, we're caught in the crossfire? Then what?" A pause. "All our parents are dead. We're on our own, as a group, with a toddler. There may be safety in numbers, but we're five teenagers against a bunch of flesh-eaters and angry people."

"... Maybe it is best we move. But where to?"

"If we can gather enough money, we can buy tickets and go cross-country, or if there's no good there's always Europe," Chi suggested.

"I checked the bank account last night. We have $10,635.76. That's more than enough to cover food, water, and another set of clothes for everyone... what about this: we escape by car, save money by not buying plane tickets. However: if things get worse within the next six months, we escape to Europe."

"Anything's better than here." We made the decision to leave a week after I was well.

¤¤¤

Three days after making our plans, we'd been evacuated by SWAT teams. I was put in an infirmary truck, alone except for my dog. The others were in the truck ahead. I coughed and held down my bread, the old dog curled up at my side. The others around me had illnesses ranging from a 24-hour cold to whatever I had. The bed of the truck was cramped, smelled of vomit and urine. I groaned and knocked on the back window.

"How long until the border?"

"Eight hours." The officer promptly shut the window. None of this sat right with me, but I swallowed my paranoia and texted the others, letting them know I was doing okay.

"At least you have someone to take care of you." An old woman was speaking to me from across the truck bed.

"You don't?"

"They're dead, all four of my kids. Their grandkids joined The Resistance."

"The Resistance?"

"Some group of dumbasses that think they can kill all zombies." I had to roll my eyes.

"I hate people like that... ignorant..."

"Me, too, girly. I like you. Here." She handed me a large, stuffed eye, green with a blue iris. "It was my granddaughter's. She was a John Septic Eye fan." Jack Septic Eye, but I didn't correct her. I knew this mascot, I just didn't know Jack made stuffies of Sam. I hugged it tight.

"Thank you, madame." She smiled under her jowls.

"At least some young people still have senses and manners."

¤¤¤

We had all crossed well into Quebec at 7:38 A.M. I was still cuddling my new stuffie when I was reunited with the others. All our money had been given to us, minus $500 for the exodus. Not a bad dent in our funds, just $500 that we could have used later.

We were dumped in the heart of Quebec, with nothing but our money and each other.