Society is like a house of cards, a dry, brittle house. With the tiniest of pushes, it wobbles, threatening to tumble. The plague was like an earthquake to it. The house collapsed and burned to the roots.
His father returned very late in the night with a bandage on his right arm.
Ever since he had seen the accident, Rik had felt a deep chord of fear reverberate inside him. He had returned home, mechanically, and gone to his room, as his mother fussed over his lunch.
As he was leaving school, he remembered how the media had swooped in. The students had to exit through the back gate, as the red wreck garnered the entire attention of the city's media. Few of his juniors had even been accosted on their way out by nosy reporters. It was a complete mess.
He sat in his room, knees folded up to his chin. Despite how many books lay open in front of him, he could barely focus. A loop of the incident kept playing in his mind. The sounds, the man, the attack; all of it. He sensed as if something had entered the air around him, the air of the city. He couldn't see or describe it, but he felt it in his bones. Walking to the balcony, he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to comb out the thoughts from his head. Looking down, he could see his father pull into the garage. He was very late.
Five minutes later, the bell rang. Mother went to open the door, as his father staggered in. Throwing down his bag, he sat down heavily and demanded a cool glass of water. As his father received the glass, Rik saw a bandage on his arm.
"Baba, how did you get that?", he asked incredulously, "that's definitely not an office injury."
"The police medics made this for me", he replied with a rueful smile.
"What?", Rik asked, standing wide-eyed.
With a deep breath, his father began. "An ambulance plowed into a slum tonight. It's all over the news. It got violent really fast. The RAF is on the scene now", he said, "the police vans were blocking the road, and the incoming vehicles were being diverted off. But I couldn't take a turn, got stuck there." Taking a deep drink of the refrigerated water, he continued, "Getting out of the car, I saw that police were in a fight with the angry slum dwellers. The police were armed with batons, yet the dwellers were attacking ferociously; as if they had nothing to lose." The condensed droplets rolled silently down the glass, as they listened to him in rapt attention.
"The police weren't able to control the protestors. They didn't even show mercy to the downed officers. The rest broke through the barriers and charged for the cars" He took another deep swallow, before continuing, "One of them came directly for me. There was something in his face, a madness. He seemed hurt, blood caking his face, but he didn't seem affected by it at all. He started banging on the bonnet of my car, making a growl. I got out to help him when he charged me. And when I brought up my hand to block him, he bit me like a wild animal," he ended with a look of disgust.
"But as I pushed him, he tripped and fell back. The RAF vans arrived in a ringing blaze of red and blue, started cuffing the miscreants, and their medics administered this first aid. Told me to go for check up tomorrow". A sharp hiss of pain escaped him as he brushed his hand against the bandage.
His mother stopped her husband. "Let's have dinner, and then we'll sleep. The story can wait for tomorrow. You certainly had a day today"
After having dinner, his father complained of a headache, and all of them retired for the night.
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YOU ARE READING
Life After Undeath
Action*WORK IN PROGRESS* This time, when people die, they don't stay dead. As a deadly plague sweeps through India, a 17-year-old must decide between his humanity and his survival, as he journeys through the subcontinent looking for a safe shelter. "So...
