Jakarta Pandemic, The (40 page)

I better start working on a sign for the front yard.

**

Alex stood in the far left corner of his front yard with a large rubber mallet in his left hand and a makeshift sign in the other. His AR-15 was slung across his back with the barrel pointing toward the ground. His favorite blue winter coat fought against the bitter wind that followed the clouds. He felt the wind burn against his cheeks and ears, and wished he had brought a hat.

I won’t be out here very long.

Right after Red Sox had left, Alex had proceeded to the garage to construct three semi-sturdy signs to post in the front yard. One for each end of the sidewalk, and one to be placed in a conspicuous location near the entrance to the driveway, in case these people decided to start driving their cars from house to house. Given the frigid temperatures and exacerbating wind, he wasn’t sure why any of them would want to walk around anyway.

Maybe to save gas?

He dismissed this idea just as quickly. Most of the cars parked on the street had been left running.

The Carters’ house received a lot of traffic for some reason, and he’d seen at least two groups walk around to the back of the house, probably trying to confirm that it was empty.

Won’t be long until someone tries to break in.

Alex stared at the sign in his left hand, which looked like a piece of junk. Like the kind of sign you’d expect to find marking the entrance to the Little Rascals hideout. He wasn’t known for carpentry detail work, or any woodwork for that matter, and he didn’t feel like trying to get fancy on this job. He wasn’t even sure he could pound the stakes into the ground. It was late November and the ground felt pretty damn solid under his feet.

He selected a spot right next to the sidewalk, on the border between Ed’s lot and his own. He tried to work the stake into the frozen ground, which initially resisted. He managed to twist it in a little, and then straightened the sign for the mallet. He brought the mallet down on the top of the stake, and it drove an inch into the hard ground.

Maybe it’s not as frozen as I thought.

He continued to slowly inch the sign into the ground until it felt solidly embedded.

This ain’t goin’ anywhere.

He looked up to see Ed walking down the driveway from his house.

“What’s up, man? It’s been a few days,” Ed asked.

“I was enjoying the peace and quiet until all of this shit started,” Alex replied.

“Yeah, the door’s been ringing all morning. We’ve been ignoring it. Kept a few lights on inside so they know we’re home. Nothing crazy yet,” he said, folding his arms around his chest.

“We’ve been doing the same, but I had one guy about forty minutes ago that wouldn’t give up. I saw him come straight from Todd’s. Guy said that Todd told him I had plenty of food to hand out…or something like that.” Alex shook his head, glaring down the street at Todd’s house. “I figured some signs might help,” he said, demonstrating the sturdiness of the sign with another light shake.

“The kids help you with those? What does it say? Keep away?” Ed asked, staring at the other two rickety signs, then up at Alex with a thin smile.

“They’ll do the job, jackass.”

“At least you have signs. I should probably put something together,” Ed said, shivering again.

“Yeah, let me know when you’re ready to post them, so I can come out and take a look at your expert handicraft. I have some tools you can borrow.”

“Tools? Jesus Christ, I could use my teeth and come up with something better than that,” he said, and Alex broke into an outright laugh. “I mean, is that magic marker, or crayon? I’m surprised you didn’t use finger paints,” Ed continued, and Alex’s laughter intensified.

“That’s it, man. That’s it. You’re killing me,” Alex was barely able to say through continuous laughter.

As they finished laughing, a black SAAB sedan passed the Lewis’s house, quickly moving down the street toward them.

“This is probably the wrong day to be outside yukking it up,” Alex said.

“You better hope they have kids to decipher your
Sesame Street
project,” Ed said, and Alex stifled another laugh.

“Knock it off, man. Let me do the talking if they stop,” he said, barely composing himself, a steely grimace washing over his face.

“Jesus, you changed your face like a schizophrenic,” Ed commented between his teeth.

“You’re killing me…Connecticut plates,” Alex whispered back as the sedan pulled up to the two of them.

Alex dropped the rubber mallet on the ground and reached back to shift his rifle into a position that he could quickly transition to the offensive if necessary. He didn’t plan to take any chances, especially after Red Sox. Through the windows he saw a younger couple.

“Yuppies?” he whispered to Ed.

“That’s probably what they’re thinking about us,” Ed mouthed back, as the passenger window rolled down.

An attractive, angular-faced woman with dark brown hair appeared from behind the window. At first glance, Alex could tell she was wearing makeup, which surprised him, given the likelihood that they were pretty far away from their starting point. She didn’t exhibit any of the signs of malnutrition or exhaustion that he’d seen on most of the refugees’ faces over the course of the morning. To Alex, she looked to be in better shape than most of his neighbors.

He peered in further and saw a man with medium-length jet black hair, an olive complexion, and wearing thin black rimmed glasses. The woman suddenly put her right arm over the edge of the open window, and Alex tightened. His left hand reacted by swiftly moving across his stomach to grab the hand guard of the rifle, and if necessary, pull it forward into a firing position.

“Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean to…sorry,” she said and put her hand back inside the car.

“It’s fine. Everyone’s just a little jumpy around here,” Alex said, easing his hand back to his side.

“We’re really sorry to ask you this, but we’re looking for a place to stay. We left the Hartford area late last night and took back roads all night to get up here. It’s a disaster down there, pretty much everywhere further south. I hate to do this. I’m sure you’ve been dealing with this for days, but we’re just looking for a place that’s safe…”

“I wouldn’t exactly call this neighborhood safe,” Alex said, keeping a completely neutral look on his face.

“Maybe we should move on, honey,” the driver said.

“Did you two bring any food?” Alex asked.

“Yeah, honey, I think we better move on,” he said again, panicky, and starting to fumble with the gear shift.

“We’re not going to take your food. I just want you to know that the stores have been empty for quite a while, and the spirit of sharing has long since left the neighborhood. Maine is not the Shangri-la everyone seems to be expecting.”

“What did you guys see on the way up here?” Ed asked.

The guy leaned across the center console of the SAAB, suddenly enthusiastic. “It was scary. People out of control everywhere. We tried to avoid bigger towns, but couldn’t avoid all of them. Some fires. People out on the streets. We left at midnight, figuring the streets would be clear, but they weren’t. It’s like world chaos.”

“How did you guys get across the state border? We heard that the bridges from Portsmouth might be barricaded,” Alex said, finding himself more at ease with this couple.

“We heard the same rumors on the internet, so we eventually caught up with the ninety-three and took that north, then east on side roads across the border, trying to avoid any towns. We eventually made our way to the twenty-five and then here. We rented a place down in Higgins Beach last year. We remembered this area. This looks a lot like our neighborhood…” she trailed off.

“Our neighborhood was a little too close to Hartford and a little too well off, if you know what I mean? We had to leave in a hurry when the looting started because it sure wasn’t confined to the business districts like the news might have you thinking. They were starting to ransack the suburbs. Sorry to bother you guys, looks like this place is wrapped up pretty tight,” the driver said and started to shift the car out of neutral.

“Hold on. It sounds like you brought food with you, right?” Alex asked.

The woman hesitated to answer and looked at the driver, who also looked skeptical about answering the question.

“Really, we’re not planning on taking your food. I’m just trying to figure out if you’re gonna become a problem if you stay here. We’ve had some problems, and most of them have been related to the food shortage,” Alex said.

Ed looked at him approvingly.

“What have the other problems been related to?” the driver asked.

“Medical supplies. Most of the houses on the block have been hit with the flu. There have been some deaths. I’m not sure how many.”

“Well, we have both. My husband is a surgeon—”

“I wouldn’t exactly say I’m a surgeon. One year into a general surgery fellowship—”

“You’re a surgeon. Anyway, he managed to stockpile some anti-virals and other medical supplies when this whole thing started. We both collected groceries while the stores still had food. We’re set for now. We just need somewhere safe to stay until things cool down enough to head back to Connecticut,” she said, her voice cracking. She looked like she was about to break down.

“So, first things first. I’m not going to point because everyone’s watching everyone around here. If you look down the road toward the right, two houses past mine, you’ll see a yellow house with blue doors. That’s the Carters’ house, and they vanished a few weeks ago, maybe earlier. Nobody really knows where they went, but I haven’t seen any signs of anyone living there, and I keep a pretty tight eye on the houses in the immediate vicinity. You should go around to the garage and bust a window to open the door. Then pray that the door from the garage into the house isn’t locked. If it is, you might have to force your way in. Make sure to patch up the window with something. Cardboard, wood, anything,” Alex said.

“Thank you so much. I really can’t tell you how much this means to us,” the woman said.

Ed leaned toward the car and peered into the back seat, his eye caught by something. Alex saw this and felt his body start to tense.

“Hey, looks like they have a golden puppy stuffed back there between the boxes,” Ed said, easing back from the car with a smile.

“Yeah, her name is Karma. She’s really friendly. You guys can go ahead and open the back door and…”

“Not a good idea out here. Anyway, the Carters’ house has seen a lot of traffic this morning. Some people have gone around back to take a look. If you see any windows broken, or any doors busted, someone might be there already. Drive on back, and I’ll point you in the direction of another house,” he said.

“Also, keep to yourselves, and don’t get involved with anyone on the block. Definitely don’t mention the fact that you have medical supplies and food, or that you’re a doctor. Your neighbors to both sides have been hit with the flu, and some of the neighbors are not very stable at this point. The last thing you want anyone to know is that you have anti-virals or medication,” he said, and the couple nodded.

“I can’t stress the importance of staying out of sight. Don’t answer the door for any of the people you see driving or walking around, and get your car in the garage immediately,” Alex continued.

“Sounds good. Thank you again. By the way, I’m Ben Glassman, and this is my wife Hannah,” the driver said.

“Alex and Ed,” Alex said.

“I’m Ed,” he said dryly.

“And this will probably be the last time we talk until this whole thing blows over. Nothing personal, but we pretty much keep to ourselves. You’re on your own when you get into the Carters’ house,” Alex said.

Hannah looked hurt by his statement, but Alex truly didn’t care. He allowed himself to like them only enough to justify using them as a block for any future interlopers in the neighborhood. He’d much rather have this couple in the Carters’ house than Red Sox.

“Thank you again, guys. Really, if there’s anything I can do for you. If anyone gets hurt or sick. Really, you, uh…you know where to find us,” Ben said.

“Thank you,” Hannah said, and she rolled up her window as the car moved forward and stopped one house past the Carters’.

At least they didn’t pull right into the driveway. That would have been way too obvious.

Chapter Thirty-One

Friday, November 29, 2013

Kate sat down at the kitchen table as Alex surveyed the remains of yesterday’s Thanksgiving Day feast. Barley mixed with dried cranberries and sliced almonds; green bean and fried onion casserole; sweet and sour lima beans; chickpea soup with dried dill; homemade wheat bread and mashed potatoes with gravy. The only thing missing was the main course.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, sitting down.

He paused and chuckled. The kids started to fill their plates and pass the dishes around. Alex took the beans from Emily.

“I was thinking about the last time we had turkey for Thanksgiving,” he said, still smiling.

“We’ve had turkey?” Ryan asked.

“Not really, maybe when you were like one or two. Could that be right?” he asked Kate.

“No…well…no, I think I was making fish at that point. Maybe at one of our parents’ houses? I was well into pushing my meat-free agenda on you when Ryan was born, and I know for a fact you haven’t eaten meat since you got back from Iraq.”

“Daddy ate meat before the war?” Emily asked.

“Yes, Daddy was a disgusting meat eater at one point.”

“So were you…at one point,” he said.

“Why did you stop after coming back from the war?” Ryan asked him.

Kate looked at Alex, clearly signaling him to tread carefully.

“Well, let’s just say that I saw people eating things over there that really made me think hard about what it means to eat animals,” he answered, looking to Kate for approval, which he could tell that he just barely won.