The Changed (Completed)

Chapter Two: Recovery

I think my mom would have looked less surprised if I had died. She'd later tell me that she'd expected to enter my room and find my lifeless body as my pulse the night before was slow.

Instead, I was sitting upright. The television in my room was blasting a rerun of a show I'd watched as a kid. I was slurping a cup of water my mom had left by my bedside through a bright pink plastic straw. My stomach was growling painfully and I announced my hunger aloud when I saw my mom's pale face in the doorway.

As a mother, my mom was overjoyed. She showered me in kisses, cooked my favorite meal, and took off further days from work to coddle me. As a nurse, my mother was concerned.

"Don't leave the house, don't turn your phone on, and don't answer the door," she'd instructed when she was readying herself to go to work a week later.

"Why not?" I asked, "If I got better, that means everyone else might have gotten better too. Won't things go back to normal, then?"

She sighed. The late shifts at the hospital and my near-death experience had aged her nearly a decade. Her dark hair glistened with greys and her cheeks were more hollow, "I haven't been honest with you."

I closed my book, giving her my full attention, "Honest about what? You said things were getting better. They are getting better right? They're working on a vaccine and stuff, you said."

Her fingers massaged her temples, "They are working on a vaccine...but, it will be too late."

My chin trembled, "Why would it be too late?"

"Margo, you're such a brave girl," she sat down on my bed, propping her elbows on her legs to support her head, "I remember when your dad and I had the divorce, I was crying all the time, I couldn't even make myself eat. You were only seven and you made me mac and cheese," a forced smile broke out across her face, "You've always been my brave Margo, braver than me."

"Just tell me," I pushed.

She began to sob so forcefully that her words were barely comprehendible, "They're all dead!" she wailed.

I shook my head, "Who is all dead? What do you mean?"

"All of them," her shoulders shook violently, "Those kids, we couldn't save any of the kids."

I began to cry with her, "It can't be true. How many? How many deaths have been reported, Mom?"

She froze, sobering in her tears as the color drained from her face, "Thirty...million."

The sound of my mother's crying was silenced by a deafening ringing in my ears. Thirty million. The number was so incomprehensibly large that my brain couldn't wrap itself around it. The ringing grew louder and I felt hot all over. Hot and tingly in a way I'd never experienced.

"Margo."

The sensation disappeared as quickly as it'd come, interrupted by my mother saying my name.

"Margo, I didn't tell anyone you were sick and I think it's best we keep it that way," she said, grabbing me by the shoulders.

"Why? If I survived, can't they use my antibodies for the vaccine or something? I don't know how it works but you know what I mean."

"NO," she said sternly, "No, absolutely not. It isn't safe. The vaccine will be finished in a year and then you can get it and this nightmare will be behind us."

"A YEAR!" I leaped from the bed, "What am I supposed to do until then? Stay in the house all day? I can't live like that."

"I'm sorry," she said softly, "It has to be this way, baby. I need you to trust me."

"DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'RE ASKING!" I shouted, "I'm fifteen! I can't just stay in my house for a year!"

"Margo, I know best," her expression hardened, "I would do anything to protect you. You know that. I would walk through fire for you. I know spending a year inside will be terrible, but not as terrible as dying."

"Dying?" I shook my head, "I survived the virus. I'm safe now."

She said nothing at first, only staring at the carpet, "Something just isn't right about all of this. Until the government has more information or more survivors come forward, I just don't feel comfortable with you going out."

"I don't understand," I persisted, "What does that mean? Have no other survivors come forward? Surely, I'm not the only one."

"Well from the perspective of a nurse who's watched this virus firsthand, you're the only survivor I've seen," she said, "No survivors have been reported and the death toll is still growing...slowing but growing."

"So what if I'm the only one?" I choked at the thought, "Isn't it a good thing?"

"Honestly, Margo," she stood up, checking the time on her phone before slipping it back into the pocket of her scrubs, "I don't have the answers you're looking for. When I know, you'll know, but just promise me you'll stay in the house, blinds closed, and don't open the door for anyone."

I crossed my arms, "Can I open the door for you?"

She jingled her pocket, "No need, I have a key, now promise me?"

I fell back onto the bed with a moan. How long could it be until we heard about more survivors? If I survived, others would have to start coming forward soon, "Okay, I promise."

She smiled with relief, "Thank you, I'll see you tonight."

"Yeah, yeah," I replied, scooping my book off the floor.

The weeks that followed were long, but the last of my childhood as I'd known it. 

Hello! I hope you're enjoying these updated chapters of The Changed. Don't forget to vote, follow, and add The Changed to your library. Happy reading! -N.K Ansley

Question for the comment section: How would you feel if you were the only one to survive a deadly illness?