A New Life

I saw the text and picked up my phone immediately.

"You there?" was the message from my friend Mark. He had been in the hospital with the new strain of COVID for weeks since contracting it on a business trip and was recently deteriorating rapidly. After experiencing my wife's death from the virus only weeks before, when she was infected while visiting her sick father, I knew what was coming for Mark and it wasn't good.

"Yeah I'm here- how are you doing?" I wrote, hoping for the best.

"Not good, don't have long," came the first reply, crushing my hopes that he had taken a miraculous turn for the better. Then another text: "Have you left town yet?" Mark knew from conversations over the years that I owned a mountain compound that I had developed over the past decade, a self-sustaining property in an isolated area of the Smoky Mountains, and that I was planning to evacuate there with my two young children if the pandemic took a turn for the worse.

"Packing up today, leaving with the kids tomorrow." I anticipated what was coming next and saved him the trouble of asking, following up with "I'm happy to take Becky and the girls."

A lengthy pause. Then a reply: "Thank you. I can be at peace knowing they are safe. You've been a true friend."

I noted he was writing in the past tense and tried to introduce a note of hope with my reply, "No problem. And when you're back on your feet you can meet us up there and I'll have a bottle of bourbon waiting."

But he clearly had neither the time nor inclination for light conversation or Pollyanna-ish optimism, firing off a string of texts in rapid succession. "Don't have long", "Becky's struggling, in denial. FYI". And then, "I've transferred cash assets to you and put other accounts in your name. Safe in the office- 25, 40, 15." Mark was clearly racing to handle his affairs and give me all the information I needed. I was considering how to respond when a final text came through: "Take care of Becky. She is yours now."

I replied immediately, trying to give him comfort in the knowledge that his family would be okay. "I will, buddy. Please know Becky and the girls will be safe and well cared-for."

I sent a few more texts, which went unanswered, before putting my phone down and taking a moment to recover before calling Becky.

---

The next morning I pulled into Becky's garage at 10am, and told my kids to stay in the car while I headed inside. Her girls were the first to greet me at the door, clearly excited to see someone aside from their mother for the first time in nearly a month and looking forward to the trip. I hugged them and asked them to jump in the car, where I had snacks ready and a movie playing. They were similar ages to my children, and I liked the idea of my kids having peers to play and socialize with in the mountains.

I proceeded to the kitchen and saw Becky, apparently lost in thought and staring out the back windows into the distance. As always, she was meticulously put together- hair, makeup and nails all looking like she had just left the salon, a bright floral sundress that accentuated her curves while putting her statuesque legs on display, and cute platform sandals. An observer would have assumed she was on her way to a pool party, not about to evacuate for her life.

I walked into her field of vision to get her attention and said "Becky!", and she snapped to life, hugging me and offering me a drink as if it was a normal weekend get-together. I remembered Mark's text and realized she really was in a state of denial about it all. I tread carefully; "Good morning Becky. The girls are in the car and if you want to join them I can load your things?"

"Isn't this ridiculous?" she asked. "What a hoax, over a flu! When Mark comes home we're going to have such a laugh over this!" she said.

I knew better than to disagree. "I talked to Mark yesterday, and when he is released he's going to meet us in the mountains. Maybe this will just end up being a nice vacation for us all."

Becky nodded and seemed to accept my line of thinking. "Okay then. You said we could only take two large bags, right? They're right over there," gesturing to the living room. "Are you sure I can't get you anything sweetheart?"

"Thanks Becky, I'm fine. If you want to head outside I'll get the bags and we'll be on our way."

She proceeded to the garage and I walked to Mark's office and opened his safe with the code he had provided. Instead was a stack of bonds and bearer notes, family documents, and ten 1KG gold bars. I loaded it all into a bag and proceeded to the bar, where I bypassed the high-end spirits and grabbed an infinity bottle of whiskeys he had home-blended over years, with the two of us contributing many a pour in recent years. I had decided that I would keep this project alive, in his memory. Securing the whiskey in my bag with the items from his safe, I grabbed Becky's two bags and headed toward the garage.

After hurriedly loading the car I pulled out, eager to begin the trek and finally make our way to safety. It was sad to the neighborhood our families had called home, especially with some homes boarded and the sidewalks and parks abandoned, in contrast to what it would usually look like on such a beautiful day. I looked in the rearview mirror and was happy to see the kids lost in their movie; let them keep their fond memories of their childhood and hometown; not this tragic scene, not the memories of losing a parent and other friends and loved ones to this terrible virus. Glancing at Becky as we exited the neighborhood and made our way to the highway, she seemed lost in thought again, staring out the window with a blank expression, emotionless except for a tear running down her cheek.

---

The drive to the compound took about four hours, which seemed an eternity to me with the world outside on the precipice of collapsing at any moment. I reflected on the sudden change in tone over the last few weeks in the chatter I monitored from online medical communities and reports from well-placed intelligence analysts. Signs of a second wave in China, even more infectious and lethal than the first. Hundreds of children suddenly falling serious ill, after previously being thought to be largely immune. Dramatically evolving symptoms and treatment efficacy. It was all pointing with growing confidence to a viral mutation resulting in a second strain, even as the mass media and political leaders maintained optimism around a global "reopening". And the early indications were that this new strain was significantly more infectious and highly lethal; in short, it had the potential to lead to the rapid collapse of civilization as we knew it.

Suddenly Becky's phone rang, and she came to life and picked it up. All I could gather was that it was a serious conversation, but the caller was doing most of the talking. Suddenly Becky dropped the phone, with a look of shock on her face.

I picked it up and said "hello?" After a momentary pause, a voice asked who was speaking; I explained that I was looking after Becky and her kids and asked why they were calling.

"Becky's husband Mark died last night. I would have called earlier but we've been overwhelmed. He took himself off the respirator last night and gave us strict instructions not to resuscitate him. Anyway, please tell her that we'll be in touch in the next few days to discuss next steps. Please pass on our condolences."

"Thank you," I said softly before hanging up the phone. I looked at Becky and she appeared to be in a complete daze, and I was worried to rock the boat with five kids sitting just behind us, unaware. I decided to get through the rest of the drive to safety, and then we could address it. I reached over and took Becky's hand, and we continued to drive in silence. I wondered whether my text conversation with Mark the prior evening was his last contact before ending his life. I couldn't blame him for taking action, given his prognosis and the painful days ahead and certain death awaiting him. He was a good man, securing his family's safety with his last act before he could die in peace.

By now we were approaching the mountains, about a half hour away from the entrance to the compound. I looked over at Becky, who still appeared to be in a state of shock. The sight in front of me was so different than the warm and outgoing Becky I had come to know over the years. I had always admired her personality, smart and funny but also in many ways a throwback to the feminine ideals of years ago. She was always perfectly made-up, manicured and tanned, and worked hard to maintain her fit physique while at the same time dressing conservatively in a way that just hinted at the true depth of her physical beauty and sexuality. It always seemed to me that she had made the decision to dress appropriately for social engagements, but reserve her underlying beauty and sensuality for her husband alone, and I respected her for that. She had a classic hourglass figure, with blonde hair in a medium bob cut, and striking facial features and light blue eyes that were true to her Scandinavian heritage. Her ample breasts often defied her conservative clothing choices, standing out boldly as if to demand the attention that Becky never sought for herself. Becky's legs may have been her best feature, toned from miles of daily jogging, and always perfectly tanned. Typically they were crossed neatly while she sat in a ladylike upright posture, with only the calves and petite, manicured feet visible beneath the low cut of her dress, but I recalled the occasional night when she would have a few glasses of wine and relax, sitting back and folding her legs to the side under her, her dress riding up gradually to show off her gorgeous thighs, and occasionally a rare glimpse of her panties.

She was excellent in conversation and a genuinely interesting person, but also reserved, with exceptional humility and selflessness. And the way she took care of her husband, kids and house would have made any 1950s housewife envious; I admit I was jealous at times at the way she endlessly doted on Mark- bringing him drinks, rubbing his shoulders, serving him at the dinner table, complementing him admiringly in conversation, and always immediately responsive to his requests. This arrangement seemed to bring her real joy and purpose; I never saw her happier than when Mark praised or expressed gratitude toward her. The contrast to my own wife, headstrong and demanding, was sometimes so extreme that I wondered whether they were some kind of cosmic dyad of opposites, destined to find each other and become friends for life.

The only downside, from my perspective, was her dismay when she wasn't able to live up to the lofty feminine standards she held herself to. For example, I noticed her occasionally acting in ways that suggested she was self-conscious about her beauty, and Mark had shared that she was struggling with the changes her body was going through as she entered her late 30s. To me this was insane as I had always seen her as a stunning beauty; nobody looks the same at 38 as they did at 18, and from what I could tell any changes were modest and in a positive direction- her breasts growing a bit fuller, her hips and ass a touch more shapely. These were all things I found breathtaking about her, and it was sad that she couldn't see the same reality in the mirror.

Also, I had heard from my wife over the past year that Becky wanted to have another baby, but was having difficulty conceiving with Mark. They tried all manner of natural and artificial means, without success, and Mark later confirmed their struggles and shared that it was weighing on Becky. I squeezed Becky's hand as I thought about these recent struggles, putting her in a precarious condition before the virus and losing her husband had even entered the picture.

I was sad to see her in such a distressed state and spent the rest of the drive reflecting on how to best help her through this, out of the pain and misery of the life we had left behind and into something better. The virus had taken so much- aside from the loss of loved ones and growing impact on the world's economy and security, for the survivors it left an empty shell of the lives they once knew. I understood firsthand how Becky felt: numb to the world, almost as if we were all under the effects of a powerful drug that reduced every sensory perception. Colors appeared dull, sounds seemed flat and muffled, and other senses were equally diminished. The deaths were the major events, but the virus's true damage was much broader and continuous; it was a slow and gradual descent to the point that we felt no joy in life anymore; we were just sleepwalking to our deaths, whether sooner or later.

---

The sun sat low in the sky as I approached the unmarked entrance to the compound and turned off the empty country road and into a thick cluster of bushes before coming to a stop in a small clearing on the other side. I stopped the car and got out to replace the bushes and sweep leaves over the tire tracks, and then we proceeded on the winding, unmarked path.

I felt a palpable sense of relief once we were on the property, a place I had spent the last ten years developing into a sanctuary for a crisis event exactly like this. Over that time I had accumulated approximately 10,000 acres in multiple private transactions, nearly 15 square miles of natural beauty, chosen for its strategic location and layout as well as its raw size. The property was largely mountainous, but enclosed within its peaks was a hidden, elevated valley. It had were numerous freshwater springs and water features- headwaters of several rivers and a small lake, both stocked with trout. Over time I had restored a number of historic structures on the property, small cabins here and there, a run-down barn, and even an old whiskey distillery dating back to the prohibition days. In addition I built a large main house on the crest of a hill toward the back of the property, overlooking the entire interior valley from the front, and from the rear enjoying a long-range sunset view of Great Smoky Mountain National Park, and its 250,000 acres of uninhabited wilderness. Beside the main house was a large modern barn, with ample storage space for farming equipment, several stables lining the side, a large lofted storage area above, and 2000 square foot pre-fabricated bunker installed underground below, with a hidden entrance from the barn as well as a tunnel running from the main house for use in an emergency. Over the years I had done extensive work on the perimeter of the property to obscure the compound and prevent outsiders from easily approaching: groundscaping to create natural-looking barriers complimenting the existing terrain, and thick clusters of thorny bushes arranged in rows, all designed to subtly redirect anyone entering the property outward along the perimeter and then away from the compound. Additionally, I placed solar-powered, motion-sensitive wireless cameras in trees along key choke-points and approaches, to alert me to any unwelcome guests that made it past the initial barriers.

In a section of the main house's basement I had stockpiled supplies, pallets of food, medical supplies, clothing, household goods and other items- even educational materials for the kids and seasonal/holiday decorations. I also had a large safe/gun locker with a variety of weaponry for self-defense. Otherwise the house had the typical layout of a large cabin, with 4 bedrooms on the upper floor, the main floor comprised of a country kitchen and living/dining area on the right side, and oversized master suite on the left, with separate sitting room area, bedroom, bathroom and large closet. On the rear of the walkout basement was a large family room with a bar and numerous games (billiards, table tennis, shuffleboard table and a cabinet of other board games and puzzles), bookended one one side by a home gym and the other by another bedroom, currently full of supplies that had not yet been unpacked. Finally, attached to the rear of the basement was a small pool, enclosed in a glass structure for year-round use, and including ample room on either side for use as a greenhouse in the winter months, I had several potted citrus bushes already producing an abundance of lemons and limes, as well as a boxed herb garden.

The main house was built to be highly efficient and self-sustaining. Solar panels on the roof of the house and adjacent barn fed redundant battery arrays that were more than sufficient to power the house's needs, and between radiant floor heating and a centrally-placed wood stove on the main floor (and foam insulation covering the entire exterior envelope of the house), it would be comfortable year-round with a minimum of energy requirements.

Outside the house I had hired day-laborers to plant and tend to a small plot of farmland on cleared land in a patch of rich river soil in the valley- corn and a variety of other vegetables sufficient to can for year-round use. Additionally, one of my first moves in developing the property was to plant a variety of food-producing trees scattered across the land- including a grove of apple and pear trees bordering the meadow in front of the main house, and adjacent to the farmland chestnut, plum and maple trees that were hardy enough to live in the mountain climate. These trees had thrived over the years and were now producing fruit reliably every year. I had wildflowers planted in the meadow in front of the main house, which were now in full bloom, and just a month prior had installed a hive for bee-keeping, and purchased some chickens, goats and two retriever pups for the kids, along with a few years worth of feed and medical supplies. I had supplied a trailer for the laborers use, prohibiting them from entering the properties buildings to avoid the risk of contamination, and had dismissed them days earlier, with sizable cash bonuses and paid tickets to return safely to their homes in Mexico.

After fifteen minutes of driving through the windy, largely unmarked path leading to the interior valley and main house, we finally arrived with the sun sitting low in the sky. As I pulled the car to a stop outside the barn, I locked the doors and turned around to address everyone. "We need to clean up before we go into the house, so we don't bring any germs with us," I began, using words the kids would understand. "My kids will go first, and then the two of you. You need to undress and put your clothes in the bin beside the outdoor shower. Then you will wash off in the shower with the special soap I've brought. This is very important- you need to wash everywhere with the soap, and leave it on until you count to 20 before washing it off. After you're clean there are a stack of clean towels outside the shower and pajamas inside the house, and you can go downstairs and play while Ms. Becky and I get clean and set things up upstairs. Got it?" I smiled reassuringly and the kids all nodded silently.

The kids proceeded exactly according to instruction, and after my kids were clean I asked my son to run upstairs and fetch two sets of pajamas for Becky's girls before my kids went downstairs while they showered. After the kids were all inside and playing together in the downstairs gameroom, I returned to the car to tend to Becky.

"Becky? How are you doing?" I said with concern, to no response. I cleared my throat and continued, "It's time for you to clean up, can you come out of the car and shower?" Still no response, with Becky staring ahead blankly. I considered my options for a moment, and then moved to plan B. "Okay Becky, I'm going to help you get cleaned up. Everything is going to be okay." I took her hand and she followed me out of the car to the shower.

After we reached the shower I asked her again if she could shower herself and she continued to stand there in her shell-shocked state, so I proceeded to undress her. First I removed the platform sandals from her delicate feet. Then I unbuttoned the back of her sundress and pulled it off over her head, leaving her standing there in a matching pink lace bra and panty set, still devoid of any apparent awareness or expression. I paused for a moment, ostensibly to monitor her for any reaction but also to collect myself after suddenly, in the worst possible circumstances, seeing the incredible figure I had always been so curious about. I was aroused and ashamed of myself at the same time, chastising myself for letting my mind wander in that way.