The Eros Plague Epoch Pt. 02

Once it really started to happen in North America, it happened fast. Frantic reports about small towns and rural communities in chaos came over the radio, and then the city. The next few days were a blur as we waited for news on Mom, and the lockdowns happened. It was different than COVID. This time, there were soldiers in gas masks around the streets of Toronto. My Dad was beside himself, already recovering from one heart attack, he was so stressed and worried that I was starting to think he was heading for coronary two.

Mom had her phone with her, but they'd only let her call us once a day. Gil, my baby brother, would conference in because he couldn't get out of Ottawa. It was another pandemic, but this one seemed to come with the ten times the crazy.

The news in the world was worse. Somehow, someway, it had started hitting small communities first. The experts said that they expected it had been at least a week that FRDD1 was spreading in small towns before it jumped to suburbs and small cities. It made little sense, but nothing did anymore.

Riots broke out in large cities, we went from gas masked soldiers escorting doctors in moon suits to full-blown marital law in Toronto over a week, and all I could do was try to keep Dad safe, and hope my mom would get better. I was glad that I was home with Dad, at least. I couldn't imagine what would happen if he'd been on his own.

As it was, we basically just listened to the radio all day. I eventually insisted that we at least listen to the CBC so that we weren't getting filled up to the brim with idiotic conspiracy theories. Even that got difficult though, as the announcers started getting sick, we heard obituary after heartfelt obituary for broadcasters, producers, writers, and more. The crazy estimates that FREDDIE could wipe out thirty percent of the human population were starting to feel real, if not low.

I tried to call Allie a hundred times, but I could never get a hold of her. The one time she did answer, she sounded worried, but glad to hear my voice.

"Cal? Are you alright," she'd asked. I thought back to her asking me to father a child with her. How far away that felt after a few weeks of terror.

"I'm okay, dad's not doing well. My mom is still in the hospital. I've been trying to call for days,"

It sounded like she was walking, and there were voices nearby.

"They came to the house, Cal. They took us for testing north of the city. We're okay, we're not changing."

She sounded tired, breathless.

"What do you mean 'changing," I demanded, the phone line got scratchy, "Allie?" The line was consumed by static, and she was gone.

Days after that, the news was awash with theories and reports of people who'd been deathly ill leaping up like they were given an adrenaline injection, fighting anyone nearby. Stories of rape started circulating, the radio shock jocks lathered into a boil over it. Gangs of people were roaming downtown in packs, and the rumour was that the FREDDIE did something to them that changed them.

The rest were dying. Some estimates had it at thirty percent lethal, and the next fifty percent of that was people who got through it, but most ended up twisted and red-eyed, spoiling for a fight. Rumour had it they were changing, but at a certain point I threw the radio out the window. Gil had called just before the phones went dead, told us that we needed to get out of the city, but dad refused to leave without mom.

Three days later, my mom passed in the hospital, we never got to see her. That night, my brother called, told me to get out, take dad to the island, and then the the raids started happening, and the phone lines went down, a couple of hours later, the main internet lines.

I knew goddamned well what was happening, the government was cracking down on the people that were filling the streets at night. They were off, walking like zombies, flocking together in little wolf packs. They seemed normal at first, some of them mostly were, but the rest were changed. We watched the old aerial tv to see the coverage, warnings mostly, sanitized as they were, you could read between the lines urging healthy people to stay home, and sick people to call 911 to get help - the only phone number that would work.

There were people that I swear had never been sick, covered in red patches along their necks, larger sunkissed brown freckles up and done their arms. They wandered and moved in groups, and I watched through boarded windows, praying they wouldn't come to the house.

It had been a couple more days since mom had passed alone in the hospital, and Dad wasn't doing well. He was in physical pain from his grief, and I knew that if I didn't get him out asap, that we'd probably both die when the city burned... and judging by the smell and smoke wafting down from a few blocks north, that'd be soon.

I'd stared down the barrel of my long gun at enough monsters burning bodies in a hot zone to know the scent of a funeral pyre.

I was packing dad's things, planning to make a quick stop at my place on the way out of town in his old pickup in the driveway when I heard a crash in the living room. We'd both been coughing, had low-grade fevers, I worried his heart could go any moment.

It was a coronary, a massive one. He was gone before he'd hit the floor.

I dug his grave in the back, as deep as I could manage in my mother's flower bed. It was a tight squeeze. I placed flagstones from the garden path over him to help discourage scavengers. By the time I was able to stop crying, I realized that I could hear screaming in the distance on top of the smoke. Most of the neighbourhood looked deserted. A couple of neighbours walked like ghosts in their back yards, one old man nodded sadly at me from up the block, watching me work over the fences. He was naked and working his cock madly. I took a pull on the large bottle of water I brought out with me, cramming it in lot my back pocket and inhaling deeply.

Dizziness washed over me and I fell to one knee, it felt like a fever had hit me, but it'd come on so fast, I went from tired and sweating to burning heat, my skin roasting on my skeleton. Dad and I had been coughing for a few days, just little tickles and jumps, but as I crawled to the back door, I coughed hard, and green spittle splattered the back steps as I slipped inside.

Flashing back to my training, and a particularly bad three weeks in the desert, I crawled down the basement steps and dragged myself past the piled paint cans and stepladders, pushing the panel under the stairs and crawling into the cupboard.

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I was suddenly aware of sounds in the house, I didn't know how long it had been. There were footsteps right above me and a pair of voices, tinny like they were coming from a radio.

"Looks clear. Grave in the back."

With shaking fingers I slid the door to the cupboard shut, just like I did as a little boy playing hide and seek, and held my breath as footsteps came down the stairs above me.

"Worth digging up?"

Silence for a few painful moments, I fought to stay awake, knowing that if they found me it wouldn't matter.

"Nah. Let's just sweep for anyone living and gtfo."

I struggled to stay awake as the footsteps went into the basement from above me, and eventually back up.

"Clear!"

The crackly response came, "good, somethings happening down the block. Make sure your safety is off."

As I drifted back into my fever, the back door open on the landing above, the sound of gun fire rattled in the distance.

When I finally woke up, I stank of sweat and my own piss. I had no idea how long I'd been out, but I felt better.

The radio was just rattling static, and it was early morning. Whatever had hit me had been bad. It must've been what mom had been sick with? Was it the fever that was ravaging the world? It didn't matter anymore. I had to get out of town, head east to the island, maybe find whatever was left of my family.

I crawled out into the house, dragging myself to the little bathroom Dad had built in the basement and turned on the shower. The water wasn't off yet, but it was cold, so I was able to clean up in the steady stream of cold, the spray helping clear the cobwebs.

I waited for night, and I threw a couple of bundles of things into the back of the truck. I wanted to stop by my apartment, but it was dicey. Only a few blocks away, but it was a hotter spot, and I didn't think my service weapon would make much difference. I had to settle for the old.38 granddad had insisted that dad keep when we moved to the city. It went into my waistband as I slipped into the drivers seat of my dad's pickup, glancing at the bundle of food, and the backpack I'd brought of clothes.

Driving was slow, there were cars in the street. Thankfully, dad's old 4x4 pickup with its hardtop camper on the back, as much as we'd made fun of him for being a tax lawyer with a pickup, was good to its purpose, and I could get through.

I still didn't know how long I'd been out, but it must have been days. Things were worse, much worse, than when dad had died. Whole blocks were looted or burnt out, and I headed north on the biggest streets I could to maximize my chances of having room to peel out and have room to run if something came at me.

The one stop I made was Allie's house. I knew chances were slim, and I was almost relieved she wasn't there with Katy as I surveyed the trashed, looted home, but my heart broke a little to not be with them. Our last conversation had been so strange, so loaded, and without a resolution... I hoped they were safe. Spotting a picture of them together at my family's cottage from the summer before, I snatched it, seeing nothing much else of value, and left.

As I drove, I saw a lot of things. There'd been a shootout at the on ramp to the highway, and I rolled past it, resisting the urge to take the crowbar out of the back and pop the trunk of the cop cruise full of bullet holes I saw. There was a decent chance a shotgun was in it, but I didn't like the look of the movement on either side of the highway.

Pulling in close to the bodies of the officers, I opened my door enough to hop out and grab one of their Glock's. Dead fingers clutched it tightly, and they'd died before they'd been able to empty the clip. The spare was in the holster still. I glanced at the other office, her gun splattered with the remainder of her brains, and weight it.

Someone knew that was a tempting treasure chest too, and more bodies began to move not too far away as I tucked the Glock and clip into my belt. I grabbed their cuffs and keys as well before jumping into the pickup and popping the clutch.

I drove on, turning my head as I passed the bodies of two officers and several civilians in the road that had been caught in the hail of lead, seeing a group of people, ragged and raving, chasing up the highway from the west, shouting into the wind that trailed after me.

The city slowly faded away to suburbs, and I jogged over roads as the tents and military field hospitals came in to view. The last thing I needed was to get pulled into a medical tent, or worse, service.

I went slow, dipping off the major 401 highway that wound through the south end of the province, and jumping off the highway to avoid potential trouble or blockades. There were cars, mostly civilian, of course, all over the road, but police and some military vehicles were scattered along it too.

I'd been driving for a good six hours when I finally managed to get to the fifteen just past Kingston. The city, a good old historical hub, was smouldering, fires clearly having eaten much of it whole. The fast food joints that had lined the highways along it were surrounded by surging mobs that climbed over barricades and leapt on people with guns trying to fend them off.

I couldn't help, I knew it, but it still panged. I knew full well that I was disassociating, just like I'd been trained to, overly pragmatic to protect myself from the horrible things happening around me.

I pulled off to fifteen, only an hour away on a good day, but the two-to-three lane highway was a long, winding road through small hamlets and past tiny towns. More than enough choke points and places to spring an ambush. Would be zigging and zagging back and forth to avoid problems for as long as I'd been creeping along the super-highway.

I was also getting low on gas.

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I'd managed top bring a few things with me, and the gas station was certainly tempting. Dusk was slowly rolling down the highway toward me, and the only thing worse than risking a strange place with locals I didn't know, was my tank going dry in pitch dark. I'd made good time from the entrance to Fifteen, but I new the four way crossroads of Hidden Valley was coming up, and as I rolled toward it, I watched the bobbing red hair of a girl in her late teens as she headed south on the road that went toward a small town called Pittsburgh.

I pulled in, my dad's.38 tucked handily where I could grab it fast by my thigh. A girl, peroxide blonde, trailer trashy pretty, and wearing a skirt so short I could see the whites of her panties. My cock twitched hungrily, and I wolfed down another granola bar that I'd taken from my parent's cupboard.

What little fresh food we'd had was long since turned by the time I'd crawled out of the basement, but thankfully my mom had been a fiend for healthy snacks that would keep dad full until the next meal. I still didn't know how long I'd been out when a skinny, greasy, man in his fifties emerged from the clapboard store that looked like it'd been built from scrap. He slapped a metal sign that was painted with "Gas, ass, grass - 4 trade," with the 'grass' sporting a black slash through it.

As he ambled up to the truck, I noticed the spray of light brown spots up his neck from under his loose collar and the heavy sag of a weight in his front left pocket.

"Getcha something? We outta reefers." I nodded, taking his serious tone in as he chewed on a toothpick and stood back from my door enough that he'd have room to draw down if I tried something. I had clocked eyes watching me from inside the dark storefront, and knew it'd be the last mistake I ever made.

"I'd be grateful to get some gas. Got a little way to go yet," I answered. "Imagine that's most folks coming by."

He nodded agreement and spat.

"We only got gas by the red hand tank now, we had to pump it out the tanks by hand. Takes a hefty trade."

I nodded. I'd expected it, and it wasn't all that unfair. Gas was a ticking clock until it expired, and I didn't expect deliveries were coming regularly any longer.

"We-elll," I drawled to match him, "I don't have a lot, but I think we can make a deal."

I was being honest. I had very little, but I did have two things that were worth a lot when the world went to hell. I rolled my window down and held out the cop's Glock by the barrel so he could see it.

"Figure that's worth one tank," and I pulled it back as he snatched at it. "Deal?"

He thought a minute, wiping a hand across his greasy overalls before he nodded and signaled someone in the building to hustle out with a tank of gas, sloshing as it bumped against their leg. The kid holding the big plastic tank could've been the greasy mechanic's twin, the same messy, flat brown hair ringed his filthy face.

"Fill it up for the good man, boy," the mechanic commanded, and I watched in the side mirror as the boy did what he as told while his father looked at the gun as I passed it to him.

"Y'know friend, I feel like I might be short-changing you, maybe you want some of my other wares..." he trailed off, and then looked up at me angrily. "Where the fuck's the bullets an' the clip?"

I held the clip up, "you get this when my gas tank is full, the car starts, and you promise that cousin of yours down the way," I pointed across the highway to an old motel where a dirty dune buggy sat, a moron in a reflective orange hunting cap peeking out from behind it with binoculars, "won't try to ambush me as soon as we're done here."

The mechanic grimaced at the sarcastic chuckle of his trailer park hoochie behind him. "Shut up, Evie," he growled through gritted teeth. I had slid my hand to the.38 at my thigh, praying it wouldn't be needed. It was a bad spot to be underpowered in. Finally, my new friend looked away from me as the kid finished filling my tank, "fine," he spat, start it up, you'll see my gasoline is good."

It was too. I started the truck and tossed the clip out the window as I spun around in the parking lot, heading back to the southern road. Behind me, the mechanic grumbled as he loaded the gun and sighted down it at me, not knowing I'd taken out all but one bullet yet.

Chances were good that dune buggy was already after me.

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It wasn't long heading down 13 before it passed Pittsburgh, a town of maybe 200, and looped back up towards 15 on a lazy, drunken wander. I'd be back on my way soon, but I wanted the option of the more open land done that way. Grandad had insisted we get to know the region as kids, and would drive us hours out of the way, making us navigate back to the cottage before night.

As I rolled along, dusk was almost on me, and a light rain was pattering on the roof when I saw that shock of deep red hair again, this time on the side of the road, a gently tanned thumb sticking out into the cool spring air.

Attached to that hair and thumb was a pretty thing, head cheerleader material in her last year of high school, no more than two years gone at best, I guessed. My cock was alive as I slowed down and took her in, buzzing like I was sixteen again, having to walk with a book in front of me at school.

She looked shabby, but even shitty clothes couldn't hide what I was seeing. Pert teenage Bs that probably still poked up to the sky under a Jean jacket and a blue band t, long, toned legs that were poured out of a strong looking ass clad in leggings. She wore a pair of jean shorts over them like only a country girl could. Her red lips matched her hair, and she waved at me as I slowed, smiling wide. Like a moron, my little head was doing the thinking, and I leaned over and popped the door lock.

"You okay out here miss?"

She ran up to my car door, smiling as she climbed up into the truck. Her hair wasn't yet soaked by the light spring rain, but it was cold and she made a show of hugging herself, drawing me to her breasts under the thin, baby blue fabric of the Hip t-shirt. She wore no bra, and I'd've have bet real money she rarely ever did, swallowing as her nipples poked out at me through the worn fabric.

"I can't thank you enough for stopping, mister. I'd be soaked and froze by the time I got home in this." She smiled again, settling in. I pushed away concern that she wasn't being more cagey about me, a stranger who'd picked her up.

I knew goddamn well that I shouldn't be picking up hitchhikers, even delectable non-threatening ones. These were crazy, apocalyptic times, and people were desperate and scared, myself included. I did my best to not linger on her legs. "What're you doing out here so close to dark? Seems like it's even more dangerous than usual for a young woman."

"It is," she agreed, "but you seem like a decent person," she said nodding at my dad's simple cross and St. Christopher medal that hung from the rearview, as they had done since I could recall. "I just really need a ride. My brother and mother are sick, and I cut through the woods to get to the gas station to try to trade with them for meds."

I nodded sombrely.

"But they didn't have anything, and when I wouldn't trade him my..." her voice hitched and she closed her eyes taking a deep breath, "he wanted things I can't offer."