Now
There are no mirrors in the room, no reflective surfaces and even the blinds are closed, shielding the windows.
I need to know what I look like.
I broke my arm once, years ago. I was riding my bike, the kind with tassels and poker cards in the spokes, and I skidded and fell, not too far, but far enough. I tried to stop myself, landing on my arm and heard a sharp snap from within my own skin. How odd the way your body can betray you. It hurt and I screamed, though the pain paled in comparison to what I know now. Fast-forward to the medical center and a cast covered my arm and elbow, locking them into place.
I wanted so badly to straighten my arm. For six weeks, it was trapped. Stuck, like an itch I could never scratch. The cast got me a lot of attention, doodles and autographs, some sympathy, too, but I would’ve traded it all just to extend my arm for one blissful second.
The hospital room is the same. I need to see myself and it’s killing me.
I slowly remove the covers from off my bed, inching my body to the side, and place my feet onto the floor. I grip the IV stand and urine bag and walk, feeling very much like a toddler making my first hesitant steps toward the bathroom.
The floor is so cool, my body so warm.
I consider the television. It has a reflective coating, but it’s too high, flush against the wall, and not tilted down.
I steady myself, already nearing breathlessness.
The bathroom door is closed. I reach out to the doorknob and turn, the door swinging open. The lights are off and the mirror must be on the opposite side. I’m about to enter when the hallway door opens and a nurse enters, startled. But I’m more startled by her.
She’s wearing a mask—not like the kind to protect me from germs, but the kind meant to protect her. It covers her whole face.
“You shouldn’t be up,” she says, alarmed.
I secretly think she’ll be in trouble if anyone knew. Before I can explain, she gently—I would say escorts me, but hustles is more like it—back to the bed. Once settled into my cotton cocoon, she checks my vitals.
“Why are you wearing that?” I ask, pointing at her face.
“Temperature’s fine,” she says, looking at the thermometer.
I watch in my mummified state as she goes about her nurse duties, noting she’s also wearing protective latex gloves. She didn’t before. I can tell she’s more careful around me, hyper-aware of what she’s doing and my reaction, keeping her distance, arm’s length at least. When I look into her eyes, I sense trepidation.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. When her eyebrows crinkle, I add, “The gloves. The mask. What happened?”
She stands, several feet between us, writing in her chart. It’s like she can’t get out of here fast enough. “I’ll let the detective know you’re up,” and just like that, she leaves.
A few minutes later, Detective Perez enters, cellphone in her hands. “I heard you were walking around.”
I try to joke. “Is that against the law?”
“It’s better if you rest. Though I’m sure it’s a good sign. Are you feeling antsy?”
Feeling antsy is the least of my feelings. I decide not to tell her about wanting to see what I look like. “A bit.” I consider, then ask, “Why was she wearing a mask?”
“Just as a precaution.”
“For what?”
Detective Perez sits down next to me, considering. “In case you’re contagious.”
“But I’m not affected.”
“However unlikely, you could still be a carrier.”
Detective Perez is dressed exactly the same. “If that’s true,” I say, “then why aren’t you wearing a mask?”
“It’s voluntary at this point.” She smiles. “Worst case scenario? I’ve already been exposed.”
“Unlikely, right?”
“So the doctors tell me.”
I look at the gun in her holster. “I hope so.”
Two Days Ago
We stood in a grove of trees at the edge of town. I didn’t know what I expected—a town filled with people devoid of emotion, walking aimlessly? Instead, the town square was normal. No screams, no chaos, just quiet, the ocean in the distance. The dock was down the road, past the school. We were only minutes from freedom.
I wanted to cry tears of relief. It would be over soon. I would be able to rest. To mourn. To live. Hope filled me so much that my body infused with energy.
Theo crept up behind me. “Where is everybody?”
We all stood close together, our feet in dirt, the road just a step away.
“As long as they’re not out in the street,” said Renzo, “I don’t care.”
I said, “We should stay hidden until we know for sure.”
Sasha asked, “You think they’re waiting for us? Like a trap?”
The town seemed deserted. Something essential was missing. As if reading my mind, Max said, “Where are all the kids?”
Sure enough, there wasn’t a single boy or girl walking from school. Not a single teen couple held hands near the “shore.” No movement at all, everything abandoned.
Renzo said, “Let’s get moving.” He started for the road and I grabbed him.
“Wait,” I said. “Not out in the open.”
“It’s a ghost town.”
There weren’t any voices. Only wind. “I don’t like it,” I said. “Doesn’t feel right.”
“I don’t even hear ’em,” Renzo said. “Which means they’re not here.”
“Then where are they?” asked Max.
“I wish I knew,” I said.
Sasha said, “Are we going?”
“Yeah,” I said, unsure.
Following my lead, we dashed one by one from the safety of the woods and into the street. We hid behind cars, moving from one to the next, tracking down the road, an endless game of Hide & Seek. I saw nothing and for all I knew, nothing saw me.
“There!” Theo tapped me, and then pointed.
It was Sally Jenkins, the town’s lone postal worker, carrying a load of mail, dressed in her uniform of blue and gray. She walked toward the school’s double doors, hunched over, her usual gait.
I couldn’t believe it. She was delivering mail. She had to have known something was terribly wrong, and yet, on her rounds she went.
“Maybe she can help us,” said Sasha.
“She’s an adult,” I replied.
Sasha stared. “She seems all right.”
“So did my mother.” I ran to another car, each time expecting to see something horrible inside, but to my relief all the cars were empty.
That’s when we got close to the dock. My heart sank.
I counted fifteen adults. They mingled near the dock, strangely doing nothing in particular. Some watched the ocean. A few teachers from school ate late lunches out of brown paper bags. One chewed on an apple. The gas station attendant sat on the dock, his shoes and socks off, pants rolled up, swishing his feet in the water. Mel, the ferryboat operator, leaned against a wood pillar, puffing on a cigarette.
All of them stood between the ferry and us.
I looked at the others. Words weren’t necessary. Theo had his eyes shut. Max leaned against the car, biting his nails. Sasha fought back tears.
“You have got to be kidding me,” said Renzo. “Of all the places they decide to what? Hang out? It’s gotta be here?”
“We’re trapped,” Sasha said, her voice tiny.
Theo reached over and hugged her close. “We’ll figure something out.”
“No, we won’t. It’s over!”
Her voice carried, had the adults lifting their heads.
Renzo asked, “What if someone got their attention while we made it to the boat?”
“So someone acts as bait?” Theo asked.
Renzo shrugged. “If you want to call it that. I think it’s more of an honor.”
Theo said, “The honor’s all yours.”
“Only the strongest one of us could do it. That pretty much means you.”
“Even if I would,” Theo hissed, “I couldn’t outrun them forever.”
“You don’t have to. Only until we get to the boat. Then we’d swoop in and rescue your ass. You’d be a genuine h-e-r-o.”
“Yeah, a dead one.”
We watched, still hidden. I thought after a time the adults would disperse, but the more we waited, the more they stayed. I was losing my patience.
Sasha said to Theo, “We’re gonna get on that boat. Tell me.”
No one responded.
“Ruthie, tell me we’re getting off this island.”
I played out scenarios in my head. The idea of someone running as bait wasn’t a bad idea if I wanted the person running as bait dead. Which I didn’t. I thought we could jump into the ocean and swim to the ferryboat, but the current was too strong. We could charge them, fight our way through, but we had no weapons and it was too risky. No, the only way onto the ferry was through the dock.
I hated saying it out loud, admitting defeat. “We’re gonna have to come back.”
“I’m not staying on this island,” said Sasha.
“Sasha, we don’t have a choice.”
“They look normal to me. They might help us.”
“You can’t trust them.”
“Didn’t everyone else have a bloody nose? Look at them! Maybe they haven’t been infected.”
True, they weren’t bleeding, but the fact that they were simply lounging, seemingly waiting, was damned odd. “We can’t take that chance.”
“No!” she yelled. The adults now stood, trying to locate the source of the sound.
Theo snapped, “Quiet!”
“Do something, Theo!”
Theo tried to calm her down. “You’re freaking out. We’ll be all right.”
She wound herself up in a frenzy. “I’m not staying on this island. I’m not going to wait for my father to try and kill me, or for me to kill him. I won’t do it. I won’t! That’s our way out. Right there.”
“We’ll come back, I promise,” said Theo.
“I’m leaving.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Come with me,” she pleaded.
“Sasha,” he said. “Sit. Down.” He grabbed her.
She shook him off. “Get your hands off me.”
The adults began walking toward us.
“Shut the hell up,” Theo said. “They’re coming!”
Sasha broke free and ran. All I saw was the back of her hair, ponytail swinging wildly. Theo was caught between wanting to scream and wanting to save her.
She ran gazelle-fast, light and quick, and I thought she might make it to the ferry. But as soon as the adults saw her, they stopped coming toward us. Their heads turned like owls in unison, calm and still, so very still.
“Help me,” she screamed, and I wasn’t sure if she was talking to us or them. “Someone help me!”
Then, as if hearing a silent command, all at once, they charged. They encircled her. It all happened so quick. The adults’ faces were a blank slate. Emotionless, they surrounded her, the circle shrinking tighter and tighter.
“Theo!” she screamed.
Then she was lost from view.
They attacked, battering her with their fists and feet, a wordless beating.
I was glad I couldn’t see her.
All I heard were her screams.
Then the screams stopped. But the adults didn’t. They continued to pummel her, the sounds soft and wet, like pumpkins smashed against concrete.
I shook Theo. “We have to go.”
His face was empty, his eyes focused on the spot where Sasha used to be.
“Don’t watch, Theo. Don’t look.”
He couldn’t peel his gaze away, so I slapped him. Hard.
Only then did he face me. “I’m going to kill them. I’m going to kill them all.”