I knew shit was really hitting the fan when Gloria didn’t show up.
I pressed the side button on my phone to see if somehow I had spaced out and missed the notification sound that she had texted me, but of course I hadn’t. My eyes went back to the TV at the foot of my bed, the low murmur of the newscaster frantically speaking over live footage of the massive riots happening in every single city, the unexplained sudden surge of violence and death, the mass hysteria… it really didn’t take a genius to understand what was happening. The camera cut away just after a random woman ran in front of the camera and was suddenly tackled and dragged down by a bloodied man emerging from a side alley. The station had been quick on the button to cut away, but not quick enough to miss the massive blood spray on the brick building as the man tore into her neck with his teeth.
My stomach dropped and began to turn as I considered that maybe something just like that had happened to Gloria. She was the one friend who had stayed by my side when I first got sick and always made sure to come by every other day like clockwork for the past five years to help me around the apartment and bring me groceries. Even in the rare occasions she had to miss a day because of her kids or some work emergency, she always texted me ahead of time and set up a time when she would definitely make it. She had been better and more reliable to me than my own family and I was grateful she also considered me a part of hers. However, knowing that now made her sudden absence so stark and terrifying. Something truly horrific had to have happened for her to not show up and also not contact me. I didn’t want to think the very worst, but seeing what was happening on the news and hearing the screams and sirens constantly blaring outside, it was hard not to think it was very likely.
My hips complained with a deep ache as I slowly pulled myself up into a more seated position. I closed my eyes and laid my head against the wall behind me, trying to shuffle through the fog of my mind try to clear a bit of space to think logically. It was harder than usual with the soft murmur of the TV and the piercing sirens outside. Then there was the gnawing fear. The knowledge that maybe six or so years ago I would have already thrown together an emergency bag, rented a car, and floored it all the way to some rural middle of no where and had a chance of making it out. Today’s me though was a sitting duck and there wasn’t a whole lot I could do about it. No matter how much I might be able to plan and figure out a course of action, my body was going to fail me sooner rather than later. The idea of dying while running was terrifying, but at least I would have had a shot at escape. The mental image of my being in pain, crawling away as fast as I could with death baring down on me was on the same level as those kind of nightmares you get where you need to fight for your life but your arms and legs are too heavy to use.
The heart rate monitor on my wrist beeped a warning at me as I tried to slow my breathing and push the panic down. Tears escaped through my squeezed eyelids as I couldn’t help but weep for the situation I was in and for the friend I was sure was either already dead or soon would be. Life had already shown me time and time again that it was not fair, but this took the cake and smashed it in my face. I sobbed until I felt light headed and my body gave into the exhaustion caused by the panic attack and I fell asleep despite the fear and cacophony around me.
It was late afternoon when I woke up. It took several minutes for me to remove the crust from my eyes and think beyond the extreme pain my neck from the position I had fallen asleep in, but it was my bladder that finally cut through all the brain fog to demand I take action. Thanks to the breakdown I had slept through taking my morning medication and even just missing the single dose made every movement of my body painful. My muscles ached and my joints felt swollen as I slowly swung my legs over to the edge of the bed and reached out for the walker I kept at the side of the bed. In a better mood, I probably would have chuckled a little at the rapid machine gun fire of my joints from my ankles up to my neck as I stood. As it was, tears came to my eyes again at the extreme feeling of heaviness, like I had just just stepped out from the water after having been swimming for too long.
After the bathroom, I took a moment on shaky legs to grab something to eat from the fridge and take stock of my meagre pantry. Being on disability barely let me get by, in fact if not for Gloria’s help I wouldn’t have been able to afford any luxury at all and probably would have been left largely to the whims of the food pantry. Still, even with the help I wasn’t too proud to take from her, I didn’t have much long term food beyond some canned soup, pasta, beans, rice, and a couple large multipacks of ramen. All in all, maybe only a couple weeks of non perishables if if I was very careful and rationed. The fridge and freezer weren’t much better with a few microwave meals, some ice cream, and some sandwich fillings that I had no bread for. Gloria was supposed to have arrived today with fresh groceries, but I would now have to make due with what I had. Not willing to stomach just yet that I was heading into dire enough times to eat tuna salad with a spoon as a meal, I instead opted for the single pint of ice cream I had been saving for a rainy day.
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I barely managed to make it back to bed before my legs became too shaky to be stable and I collapsed into bed and wriggled my body desperately to get fully into bed and into a reasonably comfortable position. Several minutes of whimpers of pain and begging for my body to just do what I was asking of it, I was back propped up on the pillows and had pried off the top of the ice cream. I cracked a half smile as I looked down at the smooth unbroken surface and remembered Gloria waving it at me before she put it in the freezer.
“Claire,” she had giggled, “you are such an old lady! Rum raisin? I had to go to three separate stores to even find it!”
Before scooping up my first bite, I took a deep breath and located where my phone had migrated to in the blankets and nodded with understanding as I saw that I still saw no messages. I wanted to start crying again, but I felt so disconnected and numb.
Focus back on the TV, it seemed like the world was finally ready to admit what was happening. The news was now showing hastily thrown together graphics of some new virus that caused unstoppable rage and a total loss of self. The affected seemed to be unaffected by pain and push through wounds and damage. The word zombie was in quotes as they called it the “zombie” virus, but it had been obvious at the start that it was what it was. The segment on the new virus information was quickly followed by medical experts pleading with people to stay in their houses and use things like masks, gloves, and other protective equipment to help prevent the further spread of the contagion. The news then cut away to video footage of people tearing apart pharmacies and smashing locked cases to get access to face masks, shields, and first aid supplies.
For the first time since the chaos started, I turned off the TV and breathed through the bitterness that pushed through the pain and fatigue. It figured that now that there was something obviously terrifying for them people would turn to the very prevention methods that would have stopped me from living in the personal hell I had been trapped in for the last several years. My own parents had refused to do anything to keep themselves safe while I took every precaution I could out of the fear their getting sick would be life threatening to them. In the end, it had only taken one holiday trip home with them ignoring my father’s positive test for the sake of having a “normal” Christmas for me to get deathly ill and never fully recover. To add insult to injury, they had maintained the whole time that I simply could not be as sick as I claimed and had just become lazy or wasn’t trying hard enough to get better. It had been a painful, but necessary step to stop reaching out to them and it was little surprise that without me making the effort, they had never bothered to reach out on their own. It had been at least a year since the last time my mother had called or texted me and even so, my heart still hurt a little knowing they probably were one of the first to have gotten the new virus due to their cavalier attitude towards modern medicine and stubbornness about instantly disbelieving anyone they considered to be too educated.
The ice cream finished, I was already feeling tired again, though this time I wanted to try to fight my constant need for a nap. I was going to have to come up with some kind of survival plan and I would need to do so fast. If I let my body dictate the path now, I would end up running out of food and then I would really be in danger. To try to combat the fatigue for the short term, I opened my side table and pulled out one of my energy gels. The texture was terrible, but it would give me a boost for at least a little while so I could try to clear my thoughts and plan. There was most of a pack left, ten total after I ate the one. I would need to ration because it would be foolish to try to even entertain the idea of being able to make a supply run. My eyes then automatically went to the pain medication and anti-inflammatories that I had neglected to take earlier. I badly wanted some pain relief in the moment, but instead I only took my anti-inflammatory knowing it worked best only when it was consistent. I could deal with the pain now while I was planning on staying in bed. However, they might end up being my salvation later if I needed to move and fast.
A piercing, agonizing scream that could be mistaken for nothing other than a woman dying emanated from somewhere in my building and my blood ran cold. The scream was quickly replaced by thudding and loud, wet gurgling… and it was close. If I had money to bet, I would have put it all on it being the apartment below me. The world would not be waiting for me to put my shit together. I had to do it. Now.
