Starting Over: The Village of Los Angeles

1

The Pandemic of 2032

   The rumor was that it came out of the South from teeming Mexico City or the Amazon Rain Forest as animals crowded together escaping fires on what little forest was still left. When I saw it on the news they called it Covid-30 and described it as "lethal."

   Like its predecessor, Covid-30 was airborne, but had an incubation period in the body that didn't show any serious symptoms for five days or more. Therefore, since the start of the Roaring 20s of the 21st century had left nearly everyone wealthy or better off, people were on the move more than ever.

    Inexpensive travel became available to more and more with transportation that left no mark on the atmosphere while the atmosphere continued to grow hotter from inertia and wouldn't cool off for another 50 years. Climate disasters continued to grow both in quantity and intensity. People young and old were fulfilling their dreams and bucket lists with ready cash as though they were all fiddling like Nero while Rome burned.

   Our family was no exception. By that time, our construction and reality show businesses had us traveling worldwide during every break in the seasonal show with the hired help keeping the construction going while our fathers and mothers were gone.

   Derek and I were busy going to huge parties heralding our high school graduation. Escape drugs were everywhere at those parties, but we were smart enough to avoid them. People tired of online interaction in their work craved human physical interaction and good companionship. Whenever our contemporaries wanted, they had free time to mingle. Online work gave them more free time to do it. But the loneliness and grind of online work just wasn't human enough for most.

   Almost every business that had people on site working had a nursery and early childhood education center for the preschool children of the staff and administration. Most of the elderly had caregivers coming into their own homes on a daily basis giving them all the care they needed, regardless of their ability to pay, thanks to legislation providing that service both under Medicare and Medicaid. Grandpa Hutchins at 97 and still working his farm was the only elderly person left in our family. We visited him often in the Central Valley. He claimed he didn't need any help. But secretly took in a young lady to do his cooking and cleaning for him.

   When the news warned of the pandemic, there was a brief run on stores where people stocked up on what they thought they would need, closed their doors to strangers and wore masks like everyone had worn with some controversy back in 2020. If they had to go out into public at all, and most did, they wore their masks.

 Unfortunately, 90% of those masks still let the even smaller C-30 virus spore to enter through the tiny gaps7 in the fabric. Even the touted N95 masks were inadequate. Nothing short of a HAZMAT suit would stop the rapid spreading of the virus.

   Derek and I were too busy to catch much of the news, but from what was reported that I saw, the hospitals were immediately overwhelmed as loved ones brought their dying to the emergency rooms where within five days much of the hospital staff were infected and dying. I heard one report that described the death rate from the infection as "Exceeding 90%." Panic was setting in fast for those who had been rushing around getting ready only to find they may have been infected while doing that necessary task. Some even went out again; sure they would run out of supplies very soon if something like what was predicted would happen.

   We were getting ready to go to our graduation that morning when Derek called me and told me that he was feeling bad. "I woke up this morning with a splitting headache. I took some Advil but it won't go away. I'm starting to feel a bit feverish, too. As much as I want to go to graduation, I don't think I should. Don't want to infect you and any others if I have it."

   I hated to tell him, but I did. "I'm starting to feel the same way. It must've been that party we went to the other night when they told everybody not to gather in large gatherings. I have to tell mom and dad and isolate myself in my room. You do the same. See you on the other side, pal."

   Derek shuddered. "I hope you don't mean what dad preaches, do you?"

   "Hell no. I mean when we are feeling better again. I'll text you first and then we can FaceTime until we can leave our rooms and the house or vice versa. Savvy, Kemosabe?

   "Savvy. See you on the flipside." Derek closed his flip phone and headed for bed. Fever chills were moving up his back. Sharonda was ready with hot soup and prayers. For her, prayers helped speed healing. They always worked with a little bean soup.

   After I put down my flip phone, I looked around for something to wrap around my face. A hand towel in the bathroom seemed to do the trick and I walked to the kitchen where I saw mom making bacon and fried eggs for dad and me.

   From the entrance, 10 feet away, I called out. "Mom, I'm starting to feel sick. I've taken some Advil for my headache and Tylenol for my fever, but I need to isolate myself from the rest of you. You can put my breakfast by the door and knock but don't come near. I've already got a big jug of water and some more Tylenol. I even found some of that Covid medicine you have kept and will take it before going back into my room. Like you always told me, I'm going to take care of myself and get some fluids, rest and sleep. It will be over soon, I hope."

  With a sadness in her voice Julie couldn't hide, knowing that Cal had awakened with the same headache, she called out to the side rather than directly at him, "That sounds like a good idea, son. I'll put your eggs by the door as soon as you are inside with a big pitcher of orange juice that you will need along with the water to keep hydrated. I'll be there for you if you need me."

   As she hurried to finish the eggs, get some to Erica, and take the rest to Cal in their bedroom Julie started crying, hoping for the best, but fearing the worst.

   I went to the bathroom and took some of the Covid medicine. When I got to my door, mom had already placed a small platter with my toast and eggs, along with the pitcher of orange juice. I got everything inside and ate the eggs that were already quite tasteless. Took two capsules of both the Advil and Tylenol and drank most of the orange juice. It no longer tasted refreshing. It just seemed to burn my already raw throat from the growing fever.

   I crawled into bed and covered myself with a sheet and blanket. My window was open a crack letting the fresh sea breeze in. I was totally covered, but sweating from fever and trying to keep warm. It wasn't long before I found that my nose was so congested I couldn’t breathe through it anymore and I had to breathe like I did while swimming, through my mouth. My stomach started churning and I wondered if I would throw up the eggs I had just eaten.

   I don't remember when I dozed off but it was welcome. My dreams came very vivid and they were torturous as my body and immune system struggled to fight the beast of this virus. Finally, after what seemed like three days of my occasionally seeing light and darkness through my eyelids, the fever finally broke, my throat and sinuses were opening back up and I started to feel much better but weak. I still had a very dry throat and muscles that felt like I had been through an Ironman Triathlon. My flip phone told me that it had been seven days since I went to bed, not three.

   I reached for some water and drank nearly all of it that I had by the bedside. I dragged myself out of bed and headed for the kitchen. But nothing was cooking there and the house was silent. I went to my parent's room that I had never been in except when I was very small. I knocked and got no answer, so I carefully opened the door and saw my parents sleeping. I approached them cautiously, but to my horror, they both were very cold and stiff to the touch.

   I started crying uncontrollably. I remembered clearly the last time I cried years before, when I left childhood to stand up and be a man. But the emotion that swept over me couldn't be denied. I feared for the worst as I approached my sister's bedroom. Another place I never ventured into since I was about twelve. Once again, I knocked, with no answer. And once again, aghast, I saw my sister dressed in just panties with no bra lying on the floor face down, as if she was trying to get out of bed and fell there. Her tanned legs already had a blue caste.

   My anguish only increased. Wondering if I would find anybody alive. But I went to the shower and took a hot one for some time while thoughts ran through my head that I never thought I would ever have. I had felt grown-up before, but now I had to take charge of my life, fully, without any help from my parents or my sister. I was so dehydrated that I was surprised that I still had so many tears flowing. I drank heavily from the cold-water faucet. But I didn't feel any better.

   Trying to think of what to do next, the first thing that popped into my head was Derek. We had been together at that party, and probably had brought the contagion home with him like I did. I gave him a call on my cell phone rather than texting. Wanting to hear his voice first.     

   I found my phone working like nothing had happened. But it rang and rang. I hung up, rang again. Derek still didn't answer. He always answered within two or three rings, even if he was on the phone with somebody else. The thought that I was truly alone was too much to bear. I had to find out what happened at his house. Ringing his phone that much should have caught somebody's attention if they were alive. I had to go find out.

Copyright Ronald W. Hull

2/15/23