A New World: Untold Stories by John O'Brien

into town and the two would pass the night visiting. This evening would be no different. Bill would most likely spend the night and head back to his place in the morning.
    The afternoon went by quickly, the passage of time marked by the growing number of empty Coors cans on an end table parked between two lazy boy chairs. They had only moved from their seats to replenish the empty cans with full ones, or if they had to relieve some of their fluids so they could replace it. After Dave fixed them dinner, they settled in for their usual banter and conversations about times past. The light through the thin curtains of the front window grew darker as the day slowly wound down.
    With the darkness closing in on the world outside, Bill kicked back, letting the footrest rise. That was when he heard the first scream. It was barely audible, but it was distinct.
    “What the fuck was that?” Bill asked, pausing in the midst of bringing his fourth beer to his mouth.
    Dave turned his head and glanced toward the window.
    “Who knows? Fucking kids are out at all hours of the night when school breaks for the summer,” Dave answered, gesturing outside with his beer. “If you ask me, I’d keep them in school year round. They’d stay out of trouble that way.”
    Bill nods and resumes his drink. He didn’t agree with Dave, remembering the fun summers they had hiking through the Black Hills together, but he didn’t say anything. Dave had grown grumpy in his later years, although they were both only in their early forties, and he didn’t want to let the peacefulness of the evening be interrupted by disagreeing. If he did, Dave would launch into one of his harangues about the youth and their lack of respect these days. Sometimes it was fun to prod him and watch him climb onto his high horse to discourse about the ills of the world.
    During an earlier visit, they talked about the pandemic sweeping over the world and the number who had taken ill, with many dying. Dave had mentioned his going into town to purchase food and supplies, saying something like, “Those motherfuckers aren’t going to get me sick.”
    Bill had kept busy with chores at his place for the most part, not focusing on the flu and how many had come down with the illness. There were times though, that he worried about the high death rate and whether this virus was going to shake civilization to its very core. He was under the opinion that it was not an ‘if’, but ‘when’. Sometimes while making dinner, he wondered if this was ‘the one’.
    He had a well and enough food. He knew the Black Hills to the southwest like the back of his hand, so hunting to find enough food wouldn’t be an issue. It would be inconvenient for sure, but not impossible. It was to what extent the flu would take people down that worried him. He knew some who had already succumbed and each time it happened, his anxiety grew.
    He had hesitated about coming into town at all, and he knew that if his brother hadn’t lived within the city limits, he wouldn’t have. Buying the extra bales had just been insurance. Driving through the town had seemed odd. There just hadn’t been anyone around and many of the small stores had posted signs: “Closed until further notice.”
    Even the diner where he had lunched had been mostly empty. That was a real shock. Most of the times when he had dropped in, it was packed with a lunch crowd, or old-timers hanging around drinking coffee and swapping stories. This time, when he walked in, there had only been a couple of tables taken. It was the same at the market when he picked up the beer for his and Dave’s evening. Many of the shelves had been empty.
    Apparently people don’t like Coors , he had thought, grabbing a half rack.
    There had been plenty of that besides the one he had purchased, with many other labels having been depleted.
    Several more shrieks interrupted their peaceful evening; coming from the nearby neighborhood streets. Dave sat up in his chair,