Viral

Ugh, how long again have I been walking through the remains of this destroyed city? It has been a year since I last saw anyone, so I doubt I will find anyone here. But since the world ended before I was born, I often dreamed of the communities my father used to tell me about. It was just the two of us for so long, that I did not even know that there were other people out there. When he finally passed last year, he told me to get out of the town we lived in and see the world. Now, here I was, traveling all over this landmass he said used to be called North America.

It was strange to me, that people used to live in these large buildings, I thought looking up at one of the tall buildings that seemed to touch the sky. He taught me what all of these places used to be like, so it is weird to see all these cars on the road when our home was located in the middle of a small town. Father said that viral warfare had been used and that only those immune survived, which was practically no one. Except him, and then me. My mother had not been. My father had been devastated by her loss but did his best by me.

I believe father said this was called an ‘overpass’, I thought, poking my toe at the broken asphalt. Who would have thought it would still bear the weight of all the old cars on it. I shifted slightly and looked into one of the cars that I passed to find the remains of a skeleton. Ew, I thought shivering slightly, before backing away. It was leaned over the wheel, its empty eyes looking down as though it had died coughing. How fitting, all things considered. The viral disease the scientists made caused severe coughing fits until the infected person’s lungs practically turned to dust.

“Don’t move!” It was a strong voice shouting out at me, so I looked around, hand on the gun on my hip. “I said don’t move!”

So, I did not. I waited to see who was shouting at me but the man did not appear. Of course, it was cold, so I could barely see out of the layer of scarves on my face. Father told me to wear baggy clothes because if I did find people out here, they would try to take advantage of the fact that I was a female. I did not understand it but agreed to do so since he was dying. I continued to wait, refusing to remove my hand from my gun until the person spoke again.

“Hands up!” He shouted, causing me to startle slightly. “Come on. I don’t have all day.”

Slowly, I released the grip on my gun and raised my hand. I cannot see who is talking to me, so I do not know what kind of person I am facing. He stepped out from behind a few cars in front of me holding a shotgun aimed right at me. Three more steps and he will be close enough to cause lethal damage if he pulls the trigger. I glanced around my immediate area before down at my feet where some of the damaged rubble had caused a slight pile at my feet. With a plan in place, I looked back up to my attacker.

“Speak up. Who are you and why are you here?” His voice sounded gruff and slightly accented as he talked. “Where did you come from?”

“My name is Chloe. I came here to see the world per my father’s dying request.” My own voice sounded muffled by the scarves and I could see his gun lowering a bit. “I came from a small-town South of here. My father taught me a lot, but not the name of that town.”

“The city’s empty. If you were thinking of finding people here, you’d best turn back.” He returned, finally moving the gun away, before putting it away altogether. “Though, you do look tired. Do you have any food?”

“I am not here to find people. My father told me to avoid people.” I stated, crossing my arms. “And yes, I have food.”

“Could I…perhaps trade something with you for food?” When I looked into his eyes, I saw nothing but honesty. “I have some ammo and other supplies back at my camp.”

I nodded, following when he motioned to me. I did not want to hurt my fellow survivor, but I was prepared to. When we finally walked through the doors of what appeared to be a small house, he started a blaze in the fireplace. As it started to warm up in the enclosed area, he removed the scarves covering his face. A scruff of a brown colored beard appeared, followed by the reveal of full lips, and what was the term? A handsomely structured face? His eyes narrowed at me before he looked over at the fire.

“Name’s Samuel, but you can call me Sammy.” He said, motioning to one of the dilapidated chairs. “Know it’s not much, but it’s home.”

“Sammy, then,” I replied with a nod before grabbing my backpack and looking into it for food. “Have you been in this area for a while?”

“Since I was born, about two years before the virus.” Samuel countered, leaning back keeping an eye on me. “What about you? How long have you been in this mess?”

“Here’s some of the canned food I can spare,” I said turning to look at him as I grabbed the cans. “And I was born right after the virus was spread. My father and I were immune, but my mother wasn’t; she died a month after I was born.”

“Seems like your father was good to you.” He smiled softly, before turning his gaze back to the fire. “It is starting to get warm, so why don’t you relax a bit.”

“I really should not stay long. Can I see the ammo you have?” My eyes fell to the floor. “Sorry, it’s nothing personal. My father told me I should not trust too much.”

“Understandable.” Samuel took the cans from my hands and pulled a box out from under the table. “Here’s what I have. If there are any matches for your weapons, it’s yours.”

I only carried a handgun and a sawn-off that my father gave me. Slowly, I moved closer to the box, wary of the man that was sitting across from me. I was unaware if he had friends or other people waiting around the corner to attack, so I was keeping an eye on the door to the place in case I needed to make a quick exit. Sure, he seemed friendly, but my father often told me to be careful of men. I was in his territory, in his home, and this was different from being out in the open. I found a couple of boxes of ammo that worked for my guns and showed them to him.

He nodded, offering what looked like a friendly smile before standing to walk over to the fire. I could hear the wind blowing outside and saw the snow start to fall through the window. It was clear to me that a storm was moving in, so if I was going to move on, I needed to do it quickly and find a safe place to wait out this storm. I stood slowly, careful to check over my shoulder before walking towards the door. I wanted to be as far away from this stranger.

“The only other places nearby that can shelter you from a storm like this one is miles away.” He spoke, turning his gaze to me. “I know you don’t trust me, but maybe you should just wait it out here. I’m not going to hurt you.”

I turned to look back at him fully, trying to get a read on his thoughts. Once again, his eyes were earnest, telling me that I could trust him for one night. I hated the very thought of staying any longer than normal, but the storm getting heavier outside gave me pause. If he was telling the truth, it was for the best that I stay in a place that is already confirmed as safe. After all, he could be just as wary of me as I am of him. I decided to trust him for now.

“Do you live here alone?” I questioned, keeping my back to the door, but close that I could run if necessary. “Or are there others?”

“I’m alone. You can put your gun to my head and check if you don’t trust it.” He replied, stepping forward cautiously. “You’re the first person I’ve seen in two years. I don’t want to do anything to harm another survivor.”

I pulled my gun from its place on my hip and pointed it at him. Just to be sure, I grabbed his wrist so that I felt more in control of the situation. We went to the basement first, before around the first floor, then he showed me the second floor. The house was indeed empty. Coming back to the living room, I reached up to grab one of my scarves. After the nervousness of walking through the house, I was feeling a little sweaty. Feeling eyes on me after I took them off, I turned to find him staring at me.

“Sorry, it’s just…I haven’t seen a female in two years either.” Samuel looked away, a slight blush covering his tanned skin. “You’re very beautiful.”

Beautiful. The books father gave me said that word means pleasing the senses or mind aesthetically. Father often called me cute or pretty, like my mother, but never beautiful. I felt my heart jump in my chest slightly at this and turned my gaze away from Samuel. My father also told me to be careful of words like this, but I could tell that this man meant them when he said them. As the storm outside grew in power, we stayed warm by the fire. I shifted slightly to lean further against the chair beneath me. It had been forever since I had someone to talk with, so I found myself wanting to talk to this new person.

“So, if there is no food here, and no people, why didn’t you move on as I did?” I asked, causing him to startle slightly. “Sorry, I have not talked with anyone since my father died.”

“No, I just thought you wouldn’t want to talk to me since you don’t trust me.” He countered, before sighing. “I was born in this city before the virus. It’s the only place that feels like home. I would not know where to go.”

“I see. Sorry, that was probably a little too personal.” Digging into my bag, I pulled out a can of peaches and opened it to eat. “What about your parents?”

“I was raised by the community I was born into before they started dying off because of the virus. I was the only one immune.” Samuel replied, his gaze turning back to me before he looked away again. “I was fourteen when the last one died. Been on my own, pretty much, since then. I met some other people three years ago, but they left me here.”

“It’s a bit of a lonely existence compared to what dad said it used to be like.” I smiled sadly, taking a bite of a peach. “He would tell me stories of going to town to buy groceries with money and talking to friends.”

“Oh…” His eyes seemed to light up at the mention of stories, to the point he seemed like a kid. “What else did he say?”

I laughed before telling him stories my father told me from before the war. It felt odd and kind of satisfying to share these stories with someone, especially since I never thought of it before. Most of the books were old now, and since human’s fall, technology went with them. All of the knowledge my father shared with me seemed to flow easily from my lips as I continued talking to Samuel and seeing him smile made me feel warm. As the stories continued to flow well into the night, I barely noticed the storm outside had subsided.

“Amazingly, you can remember all of that,” Samuel spoke up after one of the many stories I told him. “Did he teach you how to write too?”

The writing skill was something my father spent a lot of time with me on. He told me that one day, human history may depend on what I put to paper, so I should be sure to learn it. I nodded with a smile before taking out a little scrap of paper, the last piece I had. I wrote down a simple sentence before passing it to him so he could read it. I spelled out the name of this city as it was on the sign just outside its boundaries. I smiled as his gleaming eyes looked between me and the paper.

“I have something to show you then.” He said coming to a stand, before grabbing my wrist. “This way.”

The room he led me into at that point was a room I had only glanced over before for other occupants. Within its four walls, sitting on a worn-out table, were stacks upon stacks of clean paper. I had not seen this much paper since before my father died. How did he have this much paper when I could find none in my hometown? Where did he manage to acquire it? When I turned to look at him questioningly, he reached out to grab a sheet of the paper, a slight smile on his face. What…does that expression mean?

“This was actually the house I lived in with my parents before the virus, according to the old lady that was the leader of our community when I was a kid,” Samuel said, his voice soft as he explained the room. “My parents ran a business, apparently a rich one, and had to have a lot of paper for work. I…want you to teach me to write…if you don’t mind hanging around for a bit.”

Oh. OH! No, that will not do…will it? Father always told me that the spread of knowledge was more important than the dangers you face. Samuel seems to be trustworthy enough, especially after an entire night of speaking to him. Maybe I could stay here for a few days and teach him to write, as he seems to really want to learn. I shifted nervously, causing him to turn and look at me curiously. It seemed as though he was trying to gauge my reaction to it. Maybe it was because he is the first person I have come across in the year that I have traveled, but I really wanted to try and trust him.

I reached in my backpack again and pulled out my only book, a dictionary. I could always teach him in the same way my father taught me. Teaching him to read first, then bringing along writing. For the first time, I locked eyes with him and realized, he had the most beautiful grey eyes, like a stormy sky. Why had I not noticed that earlier? I looked down at the dictionary in my hands then back up to his form. If he really wanted to learn, who was I to bar him from it? I can always leave after he has finished learning.

“I can teach you, but it won’t be easy. We’ll need to start with reading first. Is there anywhere we can find books? The condition of them doesn’t matter.” I replied with a nod. “In return, we need more food than what I have. Is there anywhere in the city you haven’t raided at all?”

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