The Fallujah Strain: Power After the Ebola Apocalypse by Thomas Porter
Maya pressed the talk button on the intercom. "Pryce, remember about the salmon okay? Are you ready for your transfusion?"
"Very ready," he responded.
"Okay. I'll see you in a few minutes in the transfusion room."
"Give me a few to get there. I'm overdue, kinda moving slow."
~ - ~
She relaxed on the litter and offered her right arm to Pryce. He placed the rubber ball in her hand and she began to squeeze it. Pryce skillfully pricked the deep blue vein, visible just under the gray-bluish skin in the crook of her arm. He watched the vial fill. Another 10 seconds passed and Maya pulled the needle out, picked up the tablet computer and resumed tapping its screen.
"Pryce, I'm kind of sick of deer meat lately. I need you to get some salmon and smoke it. You know I like that stuff and you haven't gotten any lately."
"Yes, Maya," Pryce said reflexively. As a sailor, he had been conditioned to take orders, whether he respected the person giving them or not. And this service to her, like all the others he and Abel provided to her every day, was a small price to pay for her life-giving blood.
"Salmon, Pryce. Remember. Before next transfusion."
Chapter 2
The morning clouds over the ocean were gray on the near side but shimmered brilliantly white on the far, eastern side. Each was small but they numbered in the hundreds and filled the sky over the green water. Below them, rising through the waters as it always did and forever will, the sun introduced the next day. As it rose, the white migrated across the clouds until all were pure white, end to end. Then the round attic window, located in the highest peak of Maya's adopted beach front home, reflected the light back down to the water. From there it knifed through the surface, refracted slightly and sent its shards to the flounder, sea bass, and stingrays which filled the shallow water. Several minutes later, the pool just outside the sliding doors of the house was illuminated. A new day.
Pryce stood quietly along the pool, skimming grasshoppers from the water with a long-handled net. He flipped them into a wheelbarrow until, after about an hour, the surface of the pool was clear. He squatted next to the water, pushed the net to the bottom, and scooped up the tablet computer which Maya had thrown in. Then he stood up and hung the net horizontally on hooks on the fence. An old plastic coffee container that was tied to the fence contained one pebble. Pryce removed this pebble and dropped it into a matching container on the ground, which now contained 7 pebbles. He then removed the empty container from the fence and replaced it with the one on the ground, indicating that for the next 7 days it was Abel's turn to skim the pool.
Last year, a grasshopper floated into Maya's swimsuit. She pulled it out and threw it back into the water, screaming bloody murder. It was Abel's turn to clean the pool that day and after 10 minutes of melodrama Maya ran to the master bedroom, locked the door and took a shower, not bothering to close the shower's sliding glass doors as the water puddled on the marble floor. Two hours later, Abel gently rapped on the door.
"Maya? It's time for my transfusion. Maya?" Pryce could skip a transfusion occasionally but Abel, like most other non-immune people, could not. Around 24 hours without immune blood for them meant rapid onset of violent sickness, followed quickly by death.
"Go away!" she yelled from the bed and threw the tablet computer at the door. It hit flat against the door and made a "clap!" before dropping to the floor.
"Maya? Please? I depend on you. I'm your dependent, a good one. But I'm sick. Sick," he said. Abel sat on the floor next to the door for the next three hours, periodically wrapping on the door but receiving no reply. Finally his nausea overtook him and he retreated to the bathroom where he sat on the floor again and rested his head on the toilet seat. The next morning, stomach contents long gone and physically exhausted from a night of dry heaves, Pryce lifted Abel and dragged him into the transfusion room where Maya waited impatiently.
"Hurry up, okay? I want to try the pool again before it gets too hot."
Shortly after the little vial was filled with blood and Pryce had injected it into Abel's arm, Abel slid off the table and walked under his own power to the kitchen where he quickly downed 2 full glasses of water. He ate some leftover flounder and was back to normal.
Since that incident, skimming the grasshoppers from the pool was a morning ritual taken very seriously by both men. Neither needed to be told to get every piece of debris, floating on the surface or drifting on the bottom, and their unspoken agreement to rotate the duty every 7 days, using the cans and pebbles to keep track, was a matter of life and death.
When he finished cleaning the pool and rotating the cans, Pryce picked up his backpack and fishing pool. The salmon river was a very long bike ride and he was anxious to get started. He put his fishing gear into the bike's saddle pack, propped the pole upright in a piece of PVC pipe mounted to the bike frame, and set off.
He stayed primarily on the boulevard that paralleled the beach. After about 6 hours he reached the dirt access road that led to the river. The salmon here were fat and lazy and Pryce quickly pulled in 2. The girl on the opposite bank of the shallow river was not doing so well.
"You should try herring," Pryce said but she ignored him.
"But smear your hands with worms before you handle it. That works," he said. Still no reaction.
"Did your keeper have to give a pint?" he asked.
She looked up sharply, surprised. What remained of her thinning hair, which had been shielding her eyes, flipped over her shoulder. "Yeah, last week. I'm not sure what that's all about. Anthony didn't like it at all. Said they should pay him for it but the scout said it's for tax and he's the one who has to pay. Pay for our services, I guess. Anyway, he didn't give them any."
"Who's Anthony? Your keeper?"
"Yea, my keeper," she said.
"Maya didn't care one way or the other," Pryce said. "But I wonder what they're doing with it, where they're keeping it. My name's Pryce, by the way."
"Savane. Nice to meet you et cetera et cetera," she adding, rolling her eyes and grinning slightly. "What's it matter where they're keeping it?" she asked.
Pryce waded into the center of the river, which was about knee deep. He continued to the opposite side.
"Here, try this," he said, handing her a piece of herring and a few earth worms for her hands.
"Thanks, I guess," she said. She pulled in her line, smeared her hands with worms, and re-baited her hook.
"If we could get some, we wouldn't need them anymore. Yeah, we'd need their blood, but if we could just stock some up we wouldn't have to wait on them like slaves every day," Pryce said. "Or who knows, maybe some substitute. Like blood formula or whatever."
"Good point. Good point," Savane said.
"That's probably why they're collecting pints now. Stockpiling it so they can hold it over our heads without having to tap their own veins all the time."
"Anthony doesn't treat us too bad," Savane replied. "Pretty good, come to think of it. He's even working on a cure for the sick. He's got computer programs and stuff he's been working on, trying to figure out a fake serum, something that he could mix up and give to us so we wouldn't need any immune blood. He's been messing around for a while collecting grasshoppers and extracting what he calls 'growth medium', whatever that is."
"You're kidding!" Pryce said. "Why doesn't he make it? That would help you a lot, right?"
"I guess. It would help everybody. He said he's got to keep working on it, but the growth medium is hard to make. Plus after he gets it programmed into the computer he said he needs equipment. Anyway, I'm not holding my breath for anything," Savane said.
"How many does he have? Sick dependents, I mean," Pryce asked.
"Me, my older sister Gwen, and three men. Five total. The three men are all cousins, believe it or not," Savane said.
"Five? Wow! How'd he get so many?"
"I don't know," Savane ans
Pryce said, "Speaking of transfusions, I've got to get back. I'm due tonight. Here, keep the rest of the herring. Remember the worms."
"Thanks, Pryce. Where are you assigned, anyway?"
"Seaside Heights. Very nice house, too. Someone was very lucky before the die-off. Not so much anymore, I guess."
"Maybe I'll be down that way sometime," Savane said.
"We should meet back here next week," Pryce said. "I think I can get Maya to send me again. She is very high maintenance, a real pain, but she loves her smoked salmon."
"Maybe. I'll have to check," she said.
"Okay, but I've really got to get back or I'll be following that runaway into the grave," Pryce said as he waded back to his side of the river. He got on his bike and tucked everything in place. "Maybe I'll see you here next time, Savane."
"Yup, yup. Maybe you will," she yelled as he peddled away.
Chapter 3
Savane stayed at the river another 90 minutes and caught 4 salmon. "Thanks for the herring, Pryce," she said out loud as she pulled in the fourth. She packed her bike and peddled back, a two hour ride. The house was strangely quiet.
"Gwen! Could use your help here!" she called out as she walked to the kitchen to prepare the fish.
Savane placed the four fish on the big butcher block in the center of the kitchen and set to work on them. After about 10 minutes, when Gwen still hadn't answered, she put the fillet knife down and walked out of the kitchen.
"Gwen! Where are you? I want to tell you about what happened at the river. Gwen!" She walked through the expansive first floor of the Tudor style mansion but heard nothing. She knew Hayes, Orel, and Graves, the cousins, were due back from their hunting but thought it possible they were still out. And God knows where Anthony wanders off to sometimes, although he's always on time to give the midday transfusions. Savane took hers before she set off for the river that morning, though.
Savane searched the second floor and climbed the stairs again. On the third floor she heard the retching, weak but still audible. She found her, sitting on the bathroom floor, head draped on the toilet seat. Her thin hair was matted with sweat and her infected forearms were turning black. As Savane ran into the bathroom, Gwen lifted her eyes and a slight smile curled the edges of her mouth.
"Where's Anthony? Where is everybody? Gwen, why didn't you take your transfusion today?" Savane asked as she kneeled on the floor and put her right arm over Gwen's shoulder.
"Anthony is gone. Taken," she whispered. "They took him. Said he was being taken in to give his tax. He fought them, told them about us, but it didn't matter. He's gone, Savane."
Savane grabbed a washcloth and wet it in the bucket of fresh water next to the sink. "Gone? How can they just take him like that? Don't they know we need him?"
"Didn't matter. After they took him, Hayes and the others came home but they took off. Gone too. I don't know. They tried to take me with them but I said no, said I'm waiting for you. What do we do now, Savane?"
"I don't know. I don't know. Are you strong enough to try for another house? I saw this guy at the river. His keeper might help us out, I don't know. But it's a long way. Maybe 8, 10 hours by bike. Can you try?"
"I'll try," Gwen said. "I'll try. But maybe you should just go. When are you due? Tomorrow morning? Maybe you should just make a run for it."
"No! I won't do that! Come on. You're coming with me." Savane ran into Gwen's bedroom, pulled a blanket off her bed, and bundled her up in it. Using it like a sling, she managed to drag and carry her sister down the stairs, out the door, and over to her bike which she had dropped in front of the house.
"I don't know, Gwen. Can you at least put your arms over my shoulders and hang on?"
"Yes, I think so. Put me up on the seat and get on. We can make this work," Gwen said.
Savane did as she was asked but had to peddle the bike standing up. As Savane peddled away from the house, Gwen sat on the seat and rested her face between her sister's shoulder blades. It was about 6 and the sun was about tree height in the west.
Somehow, Savane kept peddling. And peddling. After 3 hours they reached the salmon river. The sun was gone but the waning moon cast shadows as Savane pulled to a stop and gently laid her sick sister on the grass next to the pavement.
"I just need to get some water. To rest, okay," Savane said.
Gwen answered with a weak grin but said nothing. She sprawled on the grass, too weak to move, as Savane filled her plastic water bottle, downed it, refilled it, brought it to Gwen and lowered it to her lips. Gwen's lips parted slightly but Savane couldn't be sure she was swallowing. Most seemed to dribble down her cheeks. When half the bottle was gone, Savane refilled it and tucked it away. She hoisted her sister back onto the seat and pushed off.
Chapter 4
Abel skimmed another net full of grasshoppers from the surface of the pool. When he started at sunrise, half the surface of the water was covered with them.
Pryce walked out the sliding door and onto the patio.
"Where are you going?" Abel asked.
"I've got to find some more computers. Maya says she's bored with iPads. I think if I hit some houses about 2 or 3 miles from here something will turn up. I should be back by noon," Pryce said.
"Alright. Were there this many grasshoppers last week? It seems like there's more every week."
"I don't know. How many were there before you started?" Pryce asked.
"At least half covered," Abel said. "I might fill the wheelbarrow today. How was fishing yesterday?"
"I got three. There was a sick girl there. I think she, they live about 8 hours from here. She said her keeper has another four dependents. Four plus her,” Pryce said as he got on his bike. “And remember that scout who took Maya's blood? Her keeper refused."
“What do you mean, 'refused'?” Abel asked.
“He told them no. He's not giving them any blood. Alright, I'm out of here,” Pryce said as he put his foot on the pedal.
"Alright. Good luck,” Abel said as Pryce Pushed off. “If you see batteries we could use some. Double A." He turned back to the pool and resumed skimming. The net was mounted on the end of a pole about 10-feet long and Abel slowly walked along the pool edge, picking up as many bugs as he could in one sweep. He then slammed the net upside down on the edge of the wheelbarrow to empty it. Every 5 minutes or so, as he worked his way up the pool edge, he had to reposition the wheelbarrow. He whistled softly as he finished the long edge of the pool, then turned the corner and started up the short edge. He faced the ocean as he worked and squinted slightly in the sun, which was now angled about 20 degrees off the horizon. His back was facing the driveway that Pryce had peddled down so he didn't see the girl ride into the driveway on a bike. He didn't see her standing on the pedals while a second girl occupied the seat and rested on her back. He didn't see the bike roll slowly to a stop just inside the gate and both girls fall in unison, still straddling the bike as they lay sideways on the ground. He didn't hear as the girl who had been peddling emptied her stomach contents onto the ground in a violent bout of retching.
Abel worked his way down the other side of the pool until, finally, the water was cleared and the wheelbarrow was nearly full. He hung the net on its hooks, transferred a pebble from the can attached to the fence to the can on the ground, and walked back to the wheelbarrow. The wheelbarrow was heavy and nearly tipped over as he lifted the handles and leaned forward. The wheel inched forward and Abel put all his weight into it until he was half walking half running toward the driveway. His target
Balancing the wheelbarrow while keeping it moving focused his attention but as he approached the gate he glanced up and saw the two bodies lying on their sides, a bike still positioned under them. He set the wheelbarrow down, shook out his hands and rubbed them on his pants, and walked to the bodies. He dropped to one knee for a closer look. Two girls in their teens, not immune. Sick. The younger one, the one in the back, lay motionless. Her mouth hung open and a gray liquid dribbled out and down, leaving a line on her face. Her eyes stared straight ahead, dead. Abel had seen this more times than he could count and he turned his attention to the older girl, the one in the front and apparently the one who had been peddling. Her eyelids fluttered involuntarily and her lips moved slightly. He put his ear closer and asked, "Can you hear me?"
From her mouth Abel heard, so low it was almost drowned out by the constant noise of the grasshoppers, "Gwen."
"Gwen?" Abel asked.
"Gwen," the girl repeated, this time slightly louder. "Gwen. Blood. Blood."
"It's too late for Gwen," Abel said as he moved the lifeless body and positioned it on its back next to the bike, arms lying flat on the ground. "We'll be back for you, Gwen."
Abel then lifted the other girl off the ground, carried her effortlessly through the sliding glass door and placed her on the couch. "Maya! We need you!" he yelled as he ran to the kitchen. "Please come downstairs please. We need your blood!" He returned to the couch with a glass of water and a straw, lifted the girl's head and placed the straw into her mouth. That didn't work so Abel held his finger over one end of the straw, dipped the other end into the water, then drained the straw into her mouth.
"Can you drink? Maya is coming. She can save you."
"Yes, I can save her," Maya said from behind him. "Who is this anyway, and what's her deal? You want my blood, is that it? Again?"
"Yes, Maya, if you would. She can be saved but she's almost gone."
"I guess," Maya said. "Is there some reason I should? And where's Pryce, anyway?"
"He's gone for computers like you asked. And batteries. Can we give this girl some blood? Maybe there's a reward or something. Won't the Resource Registration office want to know you were the one who saved her?" Abel was reaching, he knew, but he sometimes had to resort to this kind of manipulation to deal with Maya.