started to get really bad. You know how people are about posting anything unusual, anything special.”
“I don’t use it,” Dr. Evans said. “But my kids do, so I know what you mean.”
“Your kids?” I asked.
Dr. Evans ignored the question and kept working. “We’ve heard of islands that quarantined early and are infection free. Little places in the Pacific. Grand Cayman in the Caribbean.”
“I’ve always wanted to dive there,” I mused.
“The water is so blue and clear.” Dr. Evans looked up and stared, but not at anything in particular. “We were there a few years back, diving near a wreck. You could see for a hundred feet, maybe two hundred. The water was spectacular that day. A school of tarpon swam by us, five or six feet long at least, close enough to reach out and touch. Their scales were glittering in the sunlight. It was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”
“I wish I could have gone diving,” I said.
“Who knows?” Dr. Evans finished with my hand and went to work cleaning the wounds on my arm. “Most of Europe isn’t any better than here. There’s sporadic internet traffic, but mostly it’s dying away.”
“I heard it started in Africa,” I added.
“As far as anybody knows, there’s not a single functioning human brain on that continent. Yes, that’s where it started.”
“Somalia? Uganda?” I asked.
Dr. Evans confirmed with a nod. “Israel nuked Iran.”
That was a surprising change. “What?”
Another nod from Dr. Evans. “Who knows why? I don’t imagine it makes any difference anyway.”
“I guess not. What about South America, Australia, New Zealand, places like that?”
“High population densities present very favorable conditions for the virus to spread. South America went quickly. Australia, who knows? The infection is there, but it’s not bad yet. New Zealand quarantined itself and seems to be successful so far.”
“Good for them.” I wished I was in New Zealand. “How about here?”
“Here?”
“America?”
“What’s not like Austin soon will be. I can’t think of any major city in which the virus hasn’t been found.”
I asked, “Are any of them handling it?”
“None yet.” Dr. Evans shook his head slowly as he said it. “It’s so contagious, it’s nearly impossible to contain. Well, not nearly. It’s proven impossible to contain.”
“So this really is the end.”
“The end?”
“Of us. Of humans.”
Dr. Evans shook his head and looked up at me. “No, I don’t think so. Some will survive. You’ll survive if you can make it out of this hospital.”
I certainly planned to make it out.
“It’ll be the beginning of another dark age. Eventually, we’ll come out if it. Different, I hope. Better.” Dr. Evans taped a last bandage across my arm. He dropped his hands to his knees and exhaled to indicate he was finished.
“Am I in any mortal danger?” I asked. “Am I going to die of an infection?”
“Probably not.” Dr. Evans got up off of his stool and motioned for me to follow. But he looked like he was walking to his own hanging. “Lets go see the volunteers. They’ve got the whole floor down there.”
“So it wasn’t just Steph who volunteered?” I asked as I followed him.
“Did Steph tell you what the mood was like here?”
I nodded. “Hopeless.”
“Yes. That word was all I heard last night. After the first few trials with no survivors, everybody was hopeless. You know, I’ve used that word all my life. I’ve read it in books. I saw it in movies, but I never really knew what it meant until last night. Maybe I learned slowly as the week went along, but now I know in the same way I know what love is.”
“Love?” What an odd analogy.
“Not just in my head, Zed. I felt it down to the marrow of my bones, with every beat of my heart, and with every blink of my eye. I felt it with the same all-inclusive intensity that I’ve felt love. You’re a young man; have you ever been in
“I don’t use it,” Dr. Evans said. “But my kids do, so I know what you mean.”
“Your kids?” I asked.
Dr. Evans ignored the question and kept working. “We’ve heard of islands that quarantined early and are infection free. Little places in the Pacific. Grand Cayman in the Caribbean.”
“I’ve always wanted to dive there,” I mused.
“The water is so blue and clear.” Dr. Evans looked up and stared, but not at anything in particular. “We were there a few years back, diving near a wreck. You could see for a hundred feet, maybe two hundred. The water was spectacular that day. A school of tarpon swam by us, five or six feet long at least, close enough to reach out and touch. Their scales were glittering in the sunlight. It was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”
“I wish I could have gone diving,” I said.
“Who knows?” Dr. Evans finished with my hand and went to work cleaning the wounds on my arm. “Most of Europe isn’t any better than here. There’s sporadic internet traffic, but mostly it’s dying away.”
“I heard it started in Africa,” I added.
“As far as anybody knows, there’s not a single functioning human brain on that continent. Yes, that’s where it started.”
“Somalia? Uganda?” I asked.
Dr. Evans confirmed with a nod. “Israel nuked Iran.”
That was a surprising change. “What?”
Another nod from Dr. Evans. “Who knows why? I don’t imagine it makes any difference anyway.”
“I guess not. What about South America, Australia, New Zealand, places like that?”
“High population densities present very favorable conditions for the virus to spread. South America went quickly. Australia, who knows? The infection is there, but it’s not bad yet. New Zealand quarantined itself and seems to be successful so far.”
“Good for them.” I wished I was in New Zealand. “How about here?”
“Here?”
“America?”
“What’s not like Austin soon will be. I can’t think of any major city in which the virus hasn’t been found.”
I asked, “Are any of them handling it?”
“None yet.” Dr. Evans shook his head slowly as he said it. “It’s so contagious, it’s nearly impossible to contain. Well, not nearly. It’s proven impossible to contain.”
“So this really is the end.”
“The end?”
“Of us. Of humans.”
Dr. Evans shook his head and looked up at me. “No, I don’t think so. Some will survive. You’ll survive if you can make it out of this hospital.”
I certainly planned to make it out.
“It’ll be the beginning of another dark age. Eventually, we’ll come out if it. Different, I hope. Better.” Dr. Evans taped a last bandage across my arm. He dropped his hands to his knees and exhaled to indicate he was finished.
“Am I in any mortal danger?” I asked. “Am I going to die of an infection?”
“Probably not.” Dr. Evans got up off of his stool and motioned for me to follow. But he looked like he was walking to his own hanging. “Lets go see the volunteers. They’ve got the whole floor down there.”
“So it wasn’t just Steph who volunteered?” I asked as I followed him.
“Did Steph tell you what the mood was like here?”
I nodded. “Hopeless.”
“Yes. That word was all I heard last night. After the first few trials with no survivors, everybody was hopeless. You know, I’ve used that word all my life. I’ve read it in books. I saw it in movies, but I never really knew what it meant until last night. Maybe I learned slowly as the week went along, but now I know in the same way I know what love is.”
“Love?” What an odd analogy.
“Not just in my head, Zed. I felt it down to the marrow of my bones, with every beat of my heart, and with every blink of my eye. I felt it with the same all-inclusive intensity that I’ve felt love. You’re a young man; have you ever been in
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