Pandemic

Chapter 7 - Cough *Cough* Bye

 7

The old man had touched their newest groupie when he had slipped in the stairs. Then Aria all of a sudden started to act crazy. It had to be spreading through touch, but why wasn’t Claire infected yet?

‘Maybe the virus works slower on women,’ John suggests. He doesn’t sound convinced by himself. 

‘Or maybe just through skin contact,’ Aria shudders. She is herself again now, and Matt is ever so grateful. Claire is still quiet and hasn’t moved in an hour, though. He has never heard her so silent for so long, and they’d known each other for a long time. Truth be told, he misses his snarky, but sweet friend. 

The fire in the fireplace crackles and a new wave of calming warmth is sent towards him and Aria. She looks kind of cute in her way too big coat that she robbed from the lodge closet.

‘I don’t think Claire ever really touched him. She wore gloves the whole time, and the guy had a huge coat on,’ Matt says. It may be wish thinking, but he has to hope for the best. He honestly doesn’t know how to go on if he loses her.

‘And if she is infected, you would be too. Especially if the virus works faster in men’s bodies,’ Aria says. 

‘He probably got thrown out of his pack because he got sick,’ John mumbles and sighs. ‘Aria, do you feel okay?’

 ‘Yes, Doc,’ she replies and gives Claire a look. ‘What does this virus even do…?’

 ‘I have no idea,’ Matt says and yawns. It’s around midnight, and it has been a rough day. He is just about to call it a night when screaming echoes the walls. In between the yells for help, there’s some ugly coughing. The raw coughing you get when your throat has been sore for days, just ten times rawer and uglier.

‘Stay,’ John says and gets up. Aria has once again gotten the same distant look as Claire. Matt should be affected by the fact that their group is responsible for two deaths, soon standing three, but he can’t be. He doesn’t think this is some sick videogame, but the gravity of the situation is yet to be truly understood by a simple boy.

It’s hard for him to know, but not to feel.

 You can’t save victims. At least no one knows how. John seems to have a plan, a destination, but Matt doesn’t. He never had a plan, except for surviving. When he found Aria in that bathtub, he had known he needed to bring her with them. Though, that is the only thing he has been certain of for days. 

 ‘He isn’t going to live, is he?’ Aria meets his eyes. His first instinct is to lie and say that it will all be okay. There is suppressed hope for some kind of miracle in her whole presence, but they both know that there is no hope for anything anymore. Amanda would have bled to death on the road by now, and there's a less than small chance Jack and his last gorilla survived. Everyone who isn't already dead, will be sooner or later. In their hosts case... Sooner. 

 ‘Nope,’ he says and stands up. There’s no point in sitting on the floor when he can sit in a comfy chair. Especially not when the owner of the chair is soon to be declared dead. A 1.5-liter Cola bottle is on the floor and on the table stands a tower of five unused red solo cups.

 Matt realizes how thirsty he is. ‘Time to party,’ he grins and pours himself a full cup of sweet coke.

                                                                   ***

John puts on gloves, a coat and a scarf from the man’s closet before walking into the bathroom. The place looks like a murder scene. There is blood everywhere. Up against the walls, in the toilet bowl, in the sink, and the floor is literally completely covered in pure, red blood.

He takes a deep breath. As a doctor he has seen a lot of messed up things, but these days he has no control. Not at all. Before, he always had some idea on what was going on and there was always some kind of treatment. Something he could do. Someone who he could ask if he didn't know what to do.

Cancer could be treated until the very end. He knew how to sooth the patient when the days were rough, and he was familiar with everything that happened during the process of both dying and recovering. Someone before him had taught him just what to do. Now he had to figure it out himself, alone, without any fancy equipment or documents. 

‘Sorry,’ he whispers and looks down at the man. He is lting face down on the floor, bathing in his own blood. ‘I’m truly sorry.’

                                                                        ***

She can’t sleep that night. Her mind is a mess, and without pen and paper she can’t clean it up.

Claire is sleeping on the other side of the bed with her back turned to Aria. Matt took a spare mattress and borrowed her sleeping bag. How do they sleep so easily? 

Even though her companions are pronounced healthy and alive, she keeps thinking about the noises the crowbar made when it hit Jack’s friend in the head, how he was dead. He died because of her.

 People could have lived for years to come if it wasn’t for her. Their host wouldn’t have gotten infected if she hadn’t pointed out the smoke. Amanda wouldn’t have been left all alone if Aria hadn’t jumped in the trunk and dragged John with her. Of course the guy she coldheartedly slayed would also have lived a full life as well if she hadn’t killed him.

Aria feels like nothing but a heartless murderer. 

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