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Winter of Year One was a desperate time. The government put all its focus on the disease and possible vaccine. They pulled scientists from every field and institution to work on it. The private sector downsized and reorganized issuing platitudes to their shareholders. The economy teetered precariously. Military personnel were recalled from other countries. The President issued an emergency order allowing the use of them here at home. They were loaned to the National Guard to be used as first responders. And cities burned without enough firefighters, looting became common and mail service collapsed.
History of a Changed World - Angus T. Moss
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TILLY SAT IN HER OFFICE, papers spread across the desk, carefully staring at nothing. She’d been in the back storage lockers doing inventory when William ran in with the news that Angus had fallen. It had taken him precious minutes to find her. Even Nick had preceded her to Angus’s bedside, and he’d been out in the fields. Her hands were still trembling. But Angus would be all right. A break was serious but not life threatening. He was grouchy and demanding and the worst patient on the planet. She sucked in an unsteady breath and blew it out slowly. Angus was fine.
She gazed back down at the papers but couldn’t focus. She and Angus had discussed the protocol should one of them become unable to do their duties, a euphemism for succumbing to the flu. They had never considered a different death, an accident, how ridiculous that would be. But Angus was often preoccupied. He had probably been reading something as he went down the stairs. Not paying proper attention. She wanted to give him a good scolding, but Ruth had given him a sedative to make him rest. She knew that death was around the corner for all of them, but she hadn’t considered what it would feel like to be the one left behind.
“Tilly?”
A soft knock brought her out of her musings. She knew without looking that it would be Wisp. She didn’t doubt that he could sense that she wasn’t mentally present. She went out into the hallway. Wisp, a slight smile warming his face, had a box in his arms.
“More foragings?” she asked. He brought in all sorts of things from the woods. She was always grateful for his gifts of mushrooms, wild onions and nuts.
Without a word he knelt, setting the box gently on the floor. His long white braid slipped over one shoulder. “Angus’s cats.”
“Kittens!” Tilly squeaked. She couldn’t stop herself from reaching for the soft fluff balls. There were three pudgy tabbies and a pure white runt. Two tabbies were gray and black, but the third was orange with a white belly. She stroked a finger through soft fur. “Where’s their mother?”
“Gone. Fox got her, I think, from the bite marks. She came back to the kittens, but she’d been hurt too badly. Dead at least a day. The little ones were wandering. Looking for food.”
“Then we need to give them some food,” Tilly returned her kitten. Wisp picked up the box and followed her into the kitchen. Tilly dug out the scraps from last night’s rabbit stew. If they were hungry enough, they wouldn’t mind the herbs and onions. She tore the meat into shreds and placed them in a dish. “Think they’re old enough for this?”
“I saw small bones in the nest, birds, rodents,” Wisp reported. “The mother ate there, probably sharing.”
Tilly put the dish in the box. All four kittens went to sniff it. “I didn’t think there were any cats left.”
“There are always more feral cats than people realize,” Wisp said. “Their numbers were decimated by the cat flu, but they weren’t completely eradicated.”
“Thank you,” Tilly said. Purring emanated from the box, punctuated by tiny growls as each kitten tried to gobble all the meat.
Wisp bowed his head respectfully, turned on his heel and departed.
She lingered, watching the kittens eat. Then she filled a bowl with water for them, wishing she had a little cream to spare. Her family had always had cats, so she knew they would most likely be climbing out of the box by the end of the day. She needed to get them acclimated to people fast, or they would vanish into the woods as soon as they got loose.
Sara, one of the regular kitchen crew arrived to start work on lunch. “What’ve you got, Tilly?”
“Come see,” Tilly said.
“Aww.” Sara ran a gentle finger down the back of the orange tabby. Then she gave Tilly a worried look. “Four more mouths to feed.”