The Omega Virus

Chapter 7

-Chapter 7-

There is only good luck or bad luck in this world.  There is no such thing as pre-determined fate.  There is no big Mastermind somewhere up in the sky that coordinates everything to work together to perfection.  No.  There is only luck.  The kind of luck that I have is undoubtedly the bad kind.  When my mother named me she must have been smoking something other than cigarettes.  Mercy.  What a joke.  I’ve never known mercy.  Even now the universe is laughing down at me with cold cruelty.  I am a walking time bomb without a counter, yet even so this bomb is counting down.  How much time do I have?  A year?  A month?  A day?  A minute?  I don’t know.

            “Does he know?”  I asked Travis.

            “He should know.”  He replied.

            “That’s not what I asked.”

            “Do you want him to know?”

            Did I?  Why was afraid of him knowing more than I was afraid of my actual predicament?  Would he be repelled?  Would he even bother to chain me knowing that there was no guarantee of a cure for me?  So I didn’t answer.

            “You’re a stubborn young lady.”

            I smiled bitterly.

            “No, Mercy, he doesn’t know.  For what it’s worth, I promise I won’t tell him—this should come from you.”

            A walking time bomb.  Tick, tock.

            “He’s determined to find the cure, and it exists Mercy.  Your son can and will be healed.”  He said soothingly.  “His daughter will be healed, hope still remains.”  He continued through my silence.

            Yes.  A cure, but not for me.  I should be happy.  My son would live, truly live.  I might die, but he would live and that should be enough.  What kind of mother was I not to be ecstatic about this?  Perhaps the kind of mother that wanted to share that life with her son…and maybe, just maybe with the man I might be in love with.

            Tick, tock.

            “Yes.  They will live if we find Nova.  But not me.  There is no cure for me.”  Indeed, this virus was a cunning one, attaching to the very soul of humanity—draining every last bit of that soul.

            “I didn’t say that.”

            “Hm, no, I suppose you didn’t.  You just said I have a ten percent chance—very slim.”

            “You can’t give up—he won’t give up.”  He insisted.

            “He won’t know!  Do you understand?  You will keep this between us.”

            He just nodded, studying me silently.  For a little while I allowed my mind to drift, I let my agitation fade.

            “I used to be a dreamer—once.”  I whispered.

            He said nothing, just waited patiently for me to continue.  I think I liked that about him.  Yet there was something in those chocolate eyes of his, something darker, not evil dark, just like a sadness, a regret unspoken.

            “I used to believe that anything was possible.  Even when my husband died, I still kept on dreaming—for Jared.  I wanted to show him—to teach him—that dreams can become reality.  If I had a passion or dream, I pursued it.”  I smiled then at the memory.  “Fredrick Callum Somerset was a dream for both Jared and I.  We were huge fans.  Loved watching his show.  One day we simply decided we’ll try to find out where they were filming.”  The tears that began its trek down my cheeks felt scalding, burning, and hot.  “We actually got approval to be on set as extras.  We drove all the way from Arizona non-stop.  That day all hell broke loose.  That day dreams stopped.”