The Plague of Blood

Ch 4 - Swift and Fatal

Chapter Four

Swift and Fatal

     On the day the quarantine was announced Devyani tied a handkerchief over her mouth and walked with Bingley half a mile down the road to the McAllisters farm.  

     The handkerchief was more talisman than real infection control. They'd said on the news that the virus was possibly airborne, but Devyani doubted a makeshift face mask would be much help. Still, she felt better with it on. Bingley, the huge gray wolfhound, was excited to be out for a walk. He gamboled along the path, enjoying the bright, warm summer's day.

     The McAllister's was the only home for three miles in either direction. Devyani had been invited for dinner soon after she'd moved in. Tim McAllister was a retired teacher who devoted much of his time to his hobby of carpentry. He sold his cabinets and tables at the furniture store in town. Jenna McAllister had been a financier before retirement. Now she kept bees and did taxes for some of the residents of the town.

     Although they were both in their seventies they were healthy and active. Devyani had spent several evenings with them and found them pleasant company. 

     Now, as she rang the doorbell, she was unsure what she would find. Times of crisis turned even the most well-known into strangers, and the McAllisters were new acquaintances.

     Tim opened the door, but left the chain on. He thrust his face into the gap between door and frame and peered out. He had a shock of thick white hair, a round, open face and thick round glasses. "Who is it? Oh, Devyani. Come in."

     "Are either of you sick?" she asked as he unlocked the chain.

     "No, no. Not even a cold. We haven't been into town in days, either." He reached down to pat Bingley's head.

     Devyani followed him into the kitchen, Bingley at her heels. Jenna McAllister, a fit and elegant woman with short gray-and-blond hair, was in the living room, sitting in front of the T.V. The news report was on repeat. They were showing film footage of the empty, deserted streets of Budapest and the riots in New York.

     "Devyani!" Jenna patted the couch next to her as she turned off the telly, and faced her neighbor with a determined look.

     "Well. What are we going to do, Captain?"

     **

     After an hour of discussion over an emergency dinner of beer and crisps they decided to weather the quarantine together at Devyani's.

     "You're all alone up there at the Sorensen's place," Tim said. "If you get sick, who'll take care of you? Better we all stick together and help each other, if need be."

     "Besides," Jenna added with a grin, "Now we've got military protection, in case of riots."

     Devyani grinned back and showed them the handgun tucked into the back of her waistband. "I doubt we'll have riots in Becket Green. But I did come prepared."

     **

     They went to the Sorenson farm that evening. Bingley bounded along next to them, racing off into the bushes to chase rabbits. There was a festive feeling to their little party, a sort of fatalistic giddiness. The evening was dark, far out from the lights of the town, and the summer night was warm and comfortable, filled with the sounds of crickets in the high grass. The air smelled of hay and flowers, and above them the stars were coming out, very bright in the darkness of the country.

     Devyani felt as if she were experiencing these things for the first time. She wondered if it was the sense of danger that heightened her appreciation for the night around her. It had certainly been that way in Iran, it was one of the truths of the soldier - a brush with death deepens one's appreciation of life.

     **

     They had four days of playing chess, taking care of the animals and watching the news as the waiting for something to happen. On the fourth day the T.V channels went black. The radio was still putting out occasional government bulletins.

     On the fifth day Jenna complained of a bad headache and woke in the morning with a high fever, vomiting and bad diarrhea. Tim and Devyani got it the day after.

     The days that followed were a haze of fever, sweat and delirium. At one point Devyani woke to a terrible, burning thirst. She pulled herself off the bed and stumbled to the bathroom, where she put her head into the sink and drank directly from the faucet, gulping cold water until her stomach ached.

     Immediately she fell on her knees next to the bathtub and vomited all of it onto the floor. She lay on the cool tile for a long time, drifting in and out of consciousness. 

     When she tried to get up she found the front of her shirt was stiff with drying blood. She'd had a nosebleed, but it had already stopped. She got a little water from the faucet, careful to take only a mouthful, and staggered back to bed, head swimming.

     The next time she woke it was to pain and itching all over her skin, as if she were being bitten by ants. She raised her arm up to her face and saw red spots like freckles or starbursts, places where the blood vessels had popped.

     Then she found she was hungry. She had enough strength to get out of bed, and was no longer shivering - the fever must have broken, she thought wearily. She slowly pulled her blood, sweat and vomit soiled clothes off and dropped them into the hamper. She dressed in baggy sweats and went to the kitchen. A cup of weak tea and a piece of toast were all she could imagine eating. She did so, very slowly, paying attention to her stomach.

     Bingley was whining for attention outside the kitchen, so she let him in and poured a scoop of dog food for him. He went to work on it noisily. The goats and horse were probably fine out in the field, although the chickens would be hungry after days without food. She realized she had no idea how long she'd been sick. Then she realized she'd seen no sign of the McAllisters since she got up.

     The guest bedroom was quiet. Tim lay in bed, breathing heavily, his shirt front wet with blood. He looked as though he'd had a nosebleed for some time. His skin was gray and the flesh of his face was sunken.

     Jenna was dead. Her eyes were closed but her mouth was opened as if she had been saying something. There were tracks on her cheeks were she'd bled from the eyes, and her chin and mouth were covered in a mask of blood. Devyani felt tears spring up in her eyes. She pulled the sheet over Jenna's face.

     "Tim," Devyani whispered. He opened his eyes. The whites were bright red. He looked at her blearily.

     "She's dead," he croaked, his voice sore from vomiting. Devyani went to the side of the bed, stepping around the pools of vomit. It was mostly blood.

     "Yes, I know. I'll bury her." She took his hand. "Can I bring you anything?"

     "Water." She brought him a glass and helped him sip slowly.

     He fell back into unconsciousness. He had lost a great amount of blood already. There were dark bruise-like patches under his skin where blood was seeping between muscle and dermis. Several times as Devyani sat by the bedside he leaned over to vomit great quantities of blood and black bile - he was bleeding internally, as well.

      She stayed with him until the end. The muscles of his face had gone slack, and he had moaned deliriously from the pain of the internal hemorrhages. It was a relief when he finally lay still. Devyani pulled the sheet over him as well and went back to bed. She had seen people die before, but not like that. There was a deep feeling of despair and fear inside her that she couldn't begin to acknowledge. She slept, exhausted, for a long time.