“We need to stop somewhere and let those people rest.”
“Take a look out there, Virge. See any safe place where I can stop?”
He stared out the windshield, realizing that Annabelle was right. The horde appeared everywhere. Rusted vehicles lay strewn across the road, slowing their progress and concealing the dead, who were prone to stagger out of the twisted metal and shuffle aimlessly across the road. More walked along the shoulder and the moment the two trucks stopped he knew the horde would descend on them, making it impossible to help the people trapped in back. He hoped they could hold out long enough in order to find a safe place to rest, because he didn't think he could witness another slaughter like the last one.
Annabelle slowed down in order to steer the truck past the cars scattered along the road. The approaching highway sign signaled that there was a fork in the interstate. He realized that he would be forced to make a split decision. He glanced at Annabelle as she operated the big rig, two hands on the wheel, and couldn't help thinking how beautiful she looked. He'd been attracted to Annabelle from the first time he'd laid eyes on her in the Common, and before he realized that she'd once been famous. She wasn't beautiful in the traditional sense but there was something about the way she carried herself and the way she talked and walked that appealed to him.
“So which we way going, Virge, left or right?” Annabelle asked.
“Take Route 84,” he replied.
“I used to tour this country many times with my band and I have to admit that I’ve never quite seen it from this perspective, and that was usually because I was so strung out on dope.”
“Bet you're glad you kicked that nasty habit when you did,” Felicia said.
“Sure, but it only took the end of the world to clean my act up.”
“At least something good came out of it.”
“That's the one thing I've learned about life. You can always find some good in the world, even in the worst of times,” Annabelle said. “So why we going in this direction, anyway?”
“We all agree that we need to find somewhere safe to stop. Once we cut through Connecticut and cross into the open country of Pennsylvania we'll be able to let those people out for air,” he said, wiping the sweat off his brow. “It's getting even hotter outside. When is this damn heat wave ever going to end?”
“September's right around the corner. Apple cider, autumn leaves and country fairs with fried dough and corn dogs,” Annabelle sighed, slowing down to maneuver past a logjam of rusted cars.
“Elections, campaign tours, begging bigwigs for cash. Tell you what, I sure don't miss campaigning,” Felicia said.
The memory of those quaint New England autumns receded to the far corners of Virgil's mind. His idea of fun had been working long hours in the lab or else traveling to some third world nation to gather samples and conduct fieldwork. The books he'd written on virology, while far from being bestsellers, sold quite well for the esoteric subject matter he wrote about. But he never cared about money. He'd continued to dress like a slob, chow down on fast food and live in the same modest two-bedroom apartment near Kendall Square.
He missed his old life and wished he could have it all back.
He knew almost everything there was to know about the field of virology, finding even the simplest virus a fascinating object of study. And yet the more he learned about them the less he knew. They were confounding, sophisticated and maddeningly intricate organisms that had caused much suffering and sorrow throughout time's arrow. And yet, viruses had also helped the human race adapt and survive throughout the millennia. Without them the human species would have never evolved to its current form.
The closest relative to the human species were the apes, chimps and monkeys that populated the earth. At one time he traveled all around Africa studying these primates and the various viruses that afflicted them, and his studies had proven fruitful in the detection of illnesses that had jumped species and infected humans. Human history had been aided and advanced by the same viruses that had wiped out large swathes of the human population. Viruses, ironically, were the impetus to life.
The lane cleared as Annabelle, approaching the fork, steered the rig onto Interstate 84, which would take them straight through Connecticut and Pennsylvania. Virgil stared out at the barren fields and overgrown meadows, the dead stalking mindlessly about, soulless creatures with only one thing on their primitive minds.
To his dismay, Annabelle appeared not to have any romantic interest in him. And why should she? He had often been described as frumpy by his colleagues; his blond hair lay long and wispy against his acne-scarred neck and his weight had always been problematic.
The president had fallen asleep next to him, her intermittent snores filling the cab while her head rested against his shoulder. Annabelle steered the rig with the precision of a seasoned cross-country driver. He’d spent many nights in his small Boston Common room thinking about her. He'd watched with rapt interest while she played onstage with her band. Someone once told him that she'd been a drug addict in her previous life and at first he'd found this hard to believe. She seemed alive and upbeat, and despite the severity of the situation in which they'd found themselves, her attitude had always been upbeat. He'd spoken to her on a few occasions back at the camp and obviously hadn't made much of an impression. So why would he make one now?
“So you still haven't told me why we're going this way, Virge. There's lots of open country along the other route as well.”
He hated nicknames, especially Virge, but the way she said it danced in his ears like a catchy pop tune.
“It got me thinking. Pennsylvania is Amish country. I've been through that area many times and in fact spent a considerable amount of time at one Amish compound. If there's any group that is self-sufficient enough to have survived this plague then I'll bet it's the Amish. If they're still alive, we might be able to buy enough time for a rest before we head out west.”
“Is that the place where the women wear funny clothes and the men grow those long beards? Oh, and they swear off machines and electricity?”
“That's right. No TVs or power tools. They cook the old fashioned way and grow their own food. The sect I dealt with is an ultra-conservative community and much more isolated than any of the more lenient Amish groups.”
“Why were you visiting them in the first place?”
“We studied them, or rather we studies their genetic makeup. They're a unique and fascinating people and have much less genetic variation than other populations. They've completely isolated themselves from the world, especially this conservative sect I dealt with. We discovered a family on the compound where all the children were afflicted with deafness and mild retardation. My team and I worked to identify the specific genetic mutation that caused these conditions.”
“Doesn't that mean one of the parents must have carried the gene?”
“Yes, very good,” Virgil said, instantly regretting the professorial tone. “It's one of the dilemmas we had in a community like the Amish where having children is the expectation for many couples. How do you tell a young Amish man who carries the gene that he poses a high risk of passing it onto his children?”
“I get the feeling you know a lot more than you're letting on, Virge. Why did you never tell us this stuff before?”
“I guess because no one asked. Besides, I could ask you the same question.”
“I didn't need to discuss my past because my life was an open book. Didn't you watch TV or read the tabloids? You couldn't miss me.”
“I didn't even own a TV.”
“Dude, you need to get out more.”
Virgil laughed. He'd seen more of the world than he cared to admit, although from a slightly different perspective than most people ever imagined.
“It took a damn plague to get me off drugs and turn my life around. I enrolled in a therapeutic program called the apocalyptic rehab center.” Annabelle laughed, swerving past a group of zombies emerging from a pile-up. “I had a death wish, Virge. It was only a matter of time before the drugs and booze killed me.”
“Well, Annabelle, I for one and am very glad you made it.”
“Thanks, man. That's sorta sweet.”
“The temperature's still rising. We really need to start looking for a place to stop for a few minutes and give these people a breather.”
“If you see a good place, dude, give a shout-out,” she said. “I know you probably feel responsible for those people dying, Virge, but there was nothing you could have done for them. They had no fight left in them.”
“It breaks my heart thinking about it.”
“We'll pay tribute to them later. But for now we need to worry about the living.”
The thought of those people replayed in his mind as Annabelle hit the brakes in order to avoid another pile-up. The further inland they drove the higher the temperature soared and he knew they needed to stop somewhere soon before more of the people in the back of the trucks perished. He only feared what he might see once they opened the trailer doors.