A Thousand Nights with You - 28. The world gone by

Grace climbed into the storeroom and examined the bones. Someone must have extracted the bone marrows from it. That’s how some people survived on corpses when their food runs out. To our dismay, we found that the storeroom was connected to the depot warehouse where our ammunitions were stored.

“Were these people butchered?” I asked.

“Not likely. There’re still rotting flesh clinging on to the bones.”

Grace said they are more like vultures than hyenas. They feed on corpses instead of fresh meat. A few from the black commune did that to survive. They turned out to be very different from what I had expected. I imagined them to be ruthless marauders or feral cannibals.

We found them hunkering in the depot warehouse. Other than the side storeroom, it is just one large open space. The roof has a small window that allowed us to scope them out quietly. The place stank of stale gunpowder and feces. A few small fires illuminated the dark shadows on their face. There were around thirty of them, and most were women and children. They looked deader than some of the hibernating infected I saw. Flies were hovering around a filthy man, whom I thought was dead until he made a half-hearted attempt to swat it away. They looked like sedentary suburban folks from the way they dressed - torn office shirts and jackets, aprons hanging over a tattered dress. The clothes were so badly worn that some barely concealed their modesty. It seemed like they were trapped here since the plague started. A lot of the children have skeletal limbs and protruding bellies.

The front entrance was a large rolling shutter, which didn’t look very sturdy if the horde got frenzied. Two men in the group were roasting skinned rats over a fire. Whatever combat rations in the depot were probably long gone. The kids were all huddled in the center, surrounded by stacks of empty boxes, and a few women watching over them. They were heavily armed – assault rifles everywhere, but the women don’t seem very comfortable having it slung over their skinny necks.

They seemed pretty normal at first. No one was tied up, there were no mutilated bodies, the children seemed okay other than the fact they were suffering from malnutrition. But I saw a couple having sex in a dark corner. If the kids couldn’t see them, they could very well hear them. But no one seemed to care. There aren’t any corners for privacy unless they want to fuck in front of the corpses. I don’t know which is more fucked up. For a long time, the night was silence except for the crickets, our breathing and the echoes of their moans. The public sex didn’t disturb me as much as the fact that the girl looked so young. She hardly had any breasts at all. The man was old enough to be her father. After the romp, he walked her back to a woman, probably her mother. Then they ate the roasted rats and engaged in what seemed to be a polite dinner conversation.

I cast a glance at Grace, wondering if we have to kill all these people. We need the guns and bullets they have to save the barricade. And we need it really soon. They won’t give up the ammo, not with the ravenous horde banging on their shutter. Grace looked equally troubled. We expected confrontation, but we didn’t expect so many children.

“What are our options?” I asked, dreading the response that she might give.

“We can take them out by surprise.” She looked at me gravely, gauging my reaction. Then she added, “Or we can negotiate.”

“Do we have anything to offer them?” I asked hopefully.

“They have children. They need food more than ammo. I can try to pitch something.” She said.

“What if they’re bad people?”

Grace took a deep breath, face steeled. She said, “Then we’ll kill them.”

We were greatly outnumbered, even if we surprise them. And even if we did kill the adults, what were we going to do with the children? I shuddered at the thought. I asked Grace if she’s sure about what she’s doing.

Plan B. If the negotiation fails, or if they attack her, I will rouse the infected to bring down the shutter door. I grabbed her arm before she climbed through the window. “Once I set them loose, I can’t hold them back. You know that right?”

“I know. You’ll have to bring back the ammo without me.” She said before lowering herself down the rusty window grill.

Their reaction to her entrance was more curious than hostile. That’s a good start. They thought they were the last humans on Earth. No surprising, considering that it’s been almost a year they saw anyone new. Grace told them about the fortified settlement. She didn’t immediately pitch her proposal to them. She engaged in small talks to fish more information about their background instead. I was watching their reactions closely, and so was Grace.

One of the women told her that they got cornered when the highway was bombed. They came from the nearby cities, just like us. They found the airbase, thinking that it’ll be safe with all these supplies and soldiers protecting them. The soldiers wouldn’t let them in, so they gathered outside. Soon, the horde caught up and overrun the place. What can I say? Karma’s a bitch. It turned out that it was their fighter jets that did the bombing as well. They offered her a rat, thinking that she might be starving. That was a good sign.

Grace offered our rations to them as a gesture of goodwill instead. She watched them wake up the children and gave them the food, and then said that there was more food where she came from. I didn’t know if they were hopeful or skeptical. They weren’t looking at her when she spoke. Things were going well, until she mentioned that the barricade needed ammunition to break the siege. It made it sound like her generosity comes with a catch.

The deal might have gone on smoothly if she hadn’t mention about the siege. They wouldn’t need the ammo if they were going to leave with her anyway. But the way she pitched made the settlement sound like a sinking ship. When Grace saw their shifting sentiments, she became desperate.

“Look, you’re trapped here anyway. You might as well get trapped in a mountain where there are food and people.” She said.

It wasn’t enough to sway their opinions. After all, they hadn’t seen the place, and she was a stranger. They asked a ton of questions. How much food do they have? Why so desperate for ammo if the place was as safe as she claimed? How are they going to get the children safely to the chopper? The younger ones can’t climb through the windows and there were too many to carry. When Grace said that they can just walk through the shutter entrance, I knew she had totally lost them. It sounded like suicide, especially with so many kids lugging behind. They didn’t know I exist, or what I could do. She must have left that information out so they won’t know she had back-up. It would make her seem even shadier.

An awkward silence came. Everyone stared at her. Would they let her walk out, knowing that she might bring more people back to rob them? I’m not sure if this calls for Plan B. If the horde breaks in now, there’s still a chance for Grace to slip out of there alive. It’s now or never.

I was about to enter the hive mind when I noticed the children shared the food that Grace gave them. They were starving but they weren’t fighting over it. Mom once told me that you can tell a lot about a person from the way they raised their kids. They ate corpses, they had sex in front of their children, or maybe even with their children, but they may also be good people. I decided to take a chance and made my appearance.

“I can keep the horde away.”

I stepped into the light and let them see me for what I am. They were shocked. Some yelped. The flickering flames and my guttural voice added to the theatrics. Some grabbed their rifles and their children immediately. I raised a hand, and the banging outside stopped suddenly.

Never show your fear. That’s what Mark always said. People would smell it and they would eat you up. Infected or no. I was scared to shits. Guns pointed at me. I wanted to look stoic, not dangerous. They need to believe that I can keep their children safe. It would help if they didn’t notice my legs trembling. Grace caught on what I was trying to do and chimed in, “This is Daniel. He’s… infected, and he can keep the others away. That’s how I got in here safely.”

Soon, the chopper engine rumbled outside. Now they know we have reinforcements, they might think twice before attacking. At least they would want us as hostages, just in case.

“There are more like me. We can placate or rouse the infected. You would be safe.” Unless you do something stupid.

I stared straight into their eyes, letting them know that it’s both an appeal and a threat. It’s their choice. Grace was all washed out until one after another started nodding.

The ammunition crates were loaded much faster with so many people helping. Some of them were unnerved by Mark. While I looked like a walking corpse, I was still a kid. He, on other hand, was a hulking monster. Some of the children were crying and clung on to the women when Mark stared at them. Or maybe he was staring at the hot, young mother who’s carrying the kid.

People started some small talks to ease the initial tension. They looked a little more relaxed after we’re up in the air. Mark’s usually not chatty in front of strangers so I was surprised he approached the young mother. Maybe it’s been a long time since he saw a hot woman. I felt like taking a bite off her neck at that moment.

She looked a little startled when Mark sat next to her. It’s like she was expecting him to groan instead of stringing words. He asked her about the kid. She gave short, polite answers. The boy’s parents died last winter. He looked about seven or so, and he called her ‘Mom’ like she’s his real mother. It couldn’t have been a few months since his parents died. I was surprised that he accepted her as his new mother so quickly.

Grace made small talks as well, sharing survivor tales with the women. Sister Latoya said she’s surprised that so many women and children survived when the men didn’t. There were a lot more men than women in the settlement. Kids and old relics like her were especially rare. One of them asked why, and the old nun said they couldn’t run as fast as the men.

Grace asked what happened to their husbands. They said many died during last winter. Why, she asked. And they said because of male pride. She nodded like she understood them completely, but Mark and I were utterly lost. It’s like they were speaking in some secret codes that only women understand. Then they explained what happened.

Things were fine at first. The airbase was also a logistic base for the army. They got plenty of combat rations and supplies. They locked themselves in the depot, while the soldiers fought the infected outside. Some were neighbors, family friends. They had campfires in the first two months for the strangers to get to know each other. People were friendly, and they felt a bond for surviving hell together. But when winter comes and food runs out, people started turning on each other.

They started fights, mostly between the men. Some fought because they stole from each other, or hoard food for their own children. Some started because other men slept with their wives. Some starved to death because they gave their food to their wives and kids. Some killed themselves because their wives and children died before them. Some were too proud to eat rats and drink their own urine. The list went on, and it all boiled down to mostly one thing.

“Rats and corpses aren’t the hardest thing to swallow. Pride is.” One of the woman sighed.

In the end, the wives outlived their husbands because they did what they did to survive - including feeding the kids with their father’s dead body.

“It must be hard.” Grace asked.

“Jon would have wanted it.” The iron-haired woman stroked the head of the sleeping child on her lap. “Sarah didn’t make it, but at least Mitchell did.”

Jon wasn’t her husband; he was her neighbor of eight years. And Mitchell wasn’t her son either. But Sarah was her daughter.

“It’s funny that he was living next door to me for so long and I never knew he’s Jewish. Now I’m taking care of his son.” She said.

After hearing all this, I felt grateful for Tristan. I looked at Mark and wondered if he had adopted me like all these people did. I wouldn’t have survived this long if it weren’t for him.

We reached the barricade at dawn, greeted by the constant popping sound of gun shots before we landed. A faint orange glow tinted the dark blue skies in the horizon. Little sparks of gun fire blinked in the semi-darkness. From above, they looked like the lights on a Christmas tree. One shot, one kill was their doctrine. Major Payne and a bunch of soldiers received us when we stepped out. They were surprised to see us brought back so many people. Some of the soldiers looked as if they haven’t seen a woman for a long time.

Grace brought us back to the medical center while Major Payne tried to sort out the temporary living arrangements of the new arrivals. The soldiers can take over the unloading from here. It didn’t take long for us to pass out in utter exhaustion.

I remembered I dreamt. It’s unusual because we don’t dream anymore. We just slip into the hive mind. It must be the RI medications they gave us. I woke up in a locked room with Mark resting on a bed beside me. Both of us are on drips. Tristan left a note on the night stand, saying not to stain the pillow too much with my drool. He’ll come by later to visit in the afternoon.

It was still dark when I woke up. The silence felt unsettling. I was so used to the infected moaning that they felt like the cicadas and the frogs croaking at night. The bed was soft and the linen felt fresh. No soiled stains or bed bugs for a change. The picture hanging on the plain wall was neatly in place. The clock was working and ticking. This felt unreal. I laid in the dark with my eyes open, half expecting a dark one to jump out under the bed, or to suddenly hear people screaming outside. But nothing happened.

It was a long, restful sleep and we hadn’t had one for the longest time. I turned to look at the silvery outline of Mark’s body. I wanted to go over and sleep beside him, and then I felt the tugging of the needle inserted into my arm. I was on glucose drip, so was he. That means we must have been out for a long time.

A nurse came in shortly after the day break. I recognized her as the young mother that Mark chatted up with. She told us that we slept for three days. Three days we passed out, and we didn’t slip into the hive mind even once. She was assigned to help Grace because she was a medical student. I thought she looked older than that. The past year hadn’t been kind to her.

She was more nervous in our presence than she was on the plane. Maybe it’s because we’re alone and I realized our room was locked from the outside. Maybe she could see us clearly in the daylight now. Or she must have heard from the others that we weren’t the tamed circus lions we had them believed we were. She would have seen Peter and my other handiworks by now.

She was fumbling with the equipment, looking all tensed up. Maybe she wasn’t worried that we would attack. Maybe she’s scared to catch something from us. I can tell from the way she avoided physical contact even with the gloves and surgical mask. It kind of made it awkward since she had to take our temperature and other standard physical examinations. She probably would wear a hazmat suit if you gave her one.

Mark seems pretty good at chatting with women. After some small talks and jokes, she warmed up considerably. I could understand it before we got infected. He was a handsome man after all. But now, I’m surprised he could still charm his way through looking like a corpse. Maybe he still looked hot for a corpse. Under that pale grey skin and countless scars were still his taut, sinewy body,

“Relax, we don’t bite. Oh wait, we do.” He quipped, earning a shy giggle from her. Then he raised both hands to the bed post and gave her a cheeky smile, “Fine, you win. You can cuff me to the bed.”

She told us her name was Cynthia. And soon, they started talking like they had known each other forever. Perhaps he’s just being friendly, or trying to put her at ease. Or maybe Mark was just in a good mood. We hadn’t felt this safe for a long time, not having to worry about our lucidity for once. I felt stupid, feeling like a jealous girlfriend. It’s not like we’re married or anything.

She asked Mark how he felt about this place. He said it felt scary to have nothing to be scared about. She didn’t understand what he meant, but I do. And I was quick to let her know.

“It’s always the things that you don’t see coming that kills you.” I said, and Mark nodded sagely. See, no one understands him more than I do.

She didn’t know why we needed to be locked up. Mark told her that he didn’t mind, it made us feel safer actually. I told her that we were dangerous. Very dangerous. She thought I was being funny and she chuckled. We could go to the courtyard if we want some fresh air, she said, but nothing further - for our own protection.

At first I thought she’s worried about us going on a killing spree. Then we realized that not everyone here were too thrilled about our presence. She heard people talking about us for the past few days. And they weren’t nice things at all. But she said we seemed nice.

We asked Grace about it when she visited us later in the afternoon, whether it was a good idea for us to stay here. She said not to worry about things happening outside, just focus on getting well.

“Both of you had worse livers and kidneys than all the alcoholic and junkies in medical history.” She announced, shaking her head at the X ray scans she was holding. Then she showed Mark all the tiny beaks and claws in his digestive tracts. He must have eaten quite a few small animals alive while he was frenzied. She went on a tirade, telling him off like a teenager caught taking weed. “Don’t even think about leaving here till I sign you a clean bill of health!” She roared.

I was sniggering when I saw Mark being all shitfaced.

Before she left, she told us that she’s going to pump us with some major cocktail of drugs to reboot our systems. It would be a rough ride, and we better brace ourselves for it.

The next day, Mark asked her whether if we were overstaying our welcome. Cynthia was reassigned to the barricades. They needed medics to support the brick layers and frontline soldiers. The new medical orderly was less than friendly. Grace asked if it was Josh, or Katrina. Mark didn’t tell her who, but pressed on about when we could leave this place.

Grace sighed and told him not to worry about how people think. There were enough people on our side. Getting the ammo supplies scored us some points with the soldiers, although the residents weren’t too happy about us mooching on the medicines and food. The settlement had only a few doctors and even fewer medical supplies even when Atlantis was sending supplies through air drops. Now people were questioning why Grace was wasting medicines on us when there were so many sick and dying around. When she said sick and dying, I thought of cancer patients, bullet wounds, heart attacks. But no. People die from intestinal worms, food poisoning, tetanus, stomach flu, fever and pregnancies.

“Pregnancy?” I asked. “How do people die from pregnancies?”

She said, “Birth complications, miscarriages. We don’t have the resources or proper facilities for child birth. And a lot of women got knocked up over the winter. You didn’t think they would pack condoms and pills in their luggage?”

Grace had a big fight when Payne forbade her from administering morphine for Caesarian. A lot of women would be due in a few months’ time. But it’s too late now since my brother stole all of them for me, which explained why we weren’t so popular. We took so much for granted in the old world when medicines and technologies were a given. We forgot how things were like a few centuries ago. Babies die in their cots, women die from childbirth, people die from a simple flu.

“No shit.” Mark muttered. “No wonder the dudes look so thrilled to see so many women. Unpregnant women.”

“Don’t they have enough common sense to keep their pants on?” I said.

Half of it was directed at Mark, but he didn’t notice it. He said to me, “They’re just finding whatever comfort they can, Dan. They probably think they won’t see through the winter.”

“How would you know?” I muttered under my breath.

“Mark’s right.” Grace said. “Many of them didn’t think they’ll live long enough to have to deal with the consequences. We’re just taking one day at a time.”

“What’s going to happen to them? This world is no place to raise children.” Mark asked.

“We need to start thinking long term.” She said. “And people will realize sooner or later how much we needed the both of you here to make it happen.”

“Can’t we just evacuate people to Atlantis? They have everything there, right? We got a chopper now, and we can get more.” I said.

Grace shook her head. She said, “Remember the red file we found at the base? Operation Tidal Wave isn’t just a military plan. It’s a plan to save us from extinction, and guess what? We’re not in it.”

Eighteen months before the massive outbreak, United Nations secretly convened to announce that the research on the HRN virus was not keeping up with the mutation. There was a media blackout. The outbreak in India was hushed up. Those who recorded it on the phone didn’t survive to upload it on social media. Those who did survive weren’t close enough to show what was really happening. From afar, it just looked like another riot and mass looting. The Chinese masked it as a political uprising. No country reported it because it’s political suicide.

The Operation Tidal Wave report recommendations concluded that not everyone can be saved, and they proposed to do exactly that. Certain demographic groups were being prioritized – farmers, builders, miners, laborers. They need these skillsets to rebuild society. Bankers, lawyers, artists had no place in the new economic engine. Not for the few decade at least. That’s why the agricultural states were being prioritized over the metropolitan mega-cities for evacuation. And to make sure the blue-collared folks get to safety, they bombed the interstate highways to make sure we don’t follow. They planned for these black, red, blue settlement zones so that we would keep the infected distracted and busy like dinner bells. This gave the rest of them time to rebuild infrastructure and fortify defenses.

“So… we’re just human shields.” I said, appalled by both the brilliance and cruelty of the plan.

“That’s right. The coastal states would be overrun if everyone swarmed towards it. The plan worked, Atlantis was secured, but it was at our expense.” She said.

“Fucking piece of shit. They built a Noah’s Ark and decided to have their own invite list.” Mark spat. Grace shrugged, like it’s a fact of life.

“So Colonel Walters knew about this all along?” I asked, remembering his name in the circulation list for the report.

“General Walters.” She corrected me and snorted. “But yeah. I’m surprised he volunteered for a designated black zone, knowing well that it’s suicide. He must have felt so noble and patriotic about himself.”

“Maybe he volunteered because he felt guilty?” I wondered how could anyone sleep at night knowing that they have the blood of the world on their hands.

She shrugged back, like she didn’t care. Mark was pensive. He said Walters called his father shortly before the outbreak. They argued over the phone and he didn’t know what it was about, back then. He guessed his father knew about the plan, and wanted nothing to do with it. Back then on the highway, I remembered Grey talking to the soldiers who were evacuating the civilians. They said a lot of the military brass committed suicide after following orders. Now I wondered if they figured out what the government tried to do.

She broke the silence after a while, trying to change the somber subject. She complained about Payne being wishy washy. She argued with him, saying that he can’t run this place like a refugee camp anymore. No one was going to rescue us, and the report finally ended his denial. Things need to change, she said. And I asked her how.

“We have to start thinking differently - labor force, centralized food production, population growth, social order and trade with other settlements.” She explained. Bullets will run out and they have to build walls instead of barricade. They would have to plan like they would be staying here for good.

Major Payne had been busy for the last few days, meeting masons and architects about starting wall constructions immediately. Grace said she had never seen him like this before. He made a lot of threats because they refused to lay bricks with bullets flying over their heads. These people were civilians, and they wouldn’t go near an infected without a proper death threat. But they needed the walls up before our bullets ran out. Atlantis won’t be sending them any fresh supplies, now they were aware of their priorities and the true purpose that this settlement served.

Grace went with him to meet the commune leaders to find out who’s good at what - who were the engineers, technicians, farmers, teachers. They wanted to make a list of their former occupations. The reason why Payne agreed to let Grace treat us was because we were strategic assets. We could escort scavenger teams to get raw materials for solar panels, wind turbines, pipes for drains. We could visit other settlements and establish trade. The Operation Tidal Wave report made a detailed list of the settlement zones and what resources they had. That’s how they prioritize the zoning of the settlements. Reds and blacks have nothing they needed, or too far to be part of their supply chain. Some of the nearby settlements have minerals and ores, we can trade those with our wood and food, but we had to be careful with overhunting and deforestation. The red zones at the nearby city could start a manufacturing industry if we help them secure the factories. We could build steel walls, or even produce bullets once we set up our own network of trade allies.

I was a bit lost throughout the whole discussion, but Mark was impassioned by the whole thing. It all seemed very daunting, but Grace saw hope and possibilities. And Mark thought so too.

We played some ball in the courtyard after Grace was left. The last time we did anything fun was at the rooftop of my old apartment. Racing to see who can loot more vodka before the dark ones catches up with us don’t really count. The whole game was quite funny because our coordination is still like shit and we’re missing the ball half of the time. Mark said that we just invented a new sport; he called it zombie ball because of the way I lumbered after it. He said he’ll teach me how to dribble a ball once his limbs are working properly again. I was glad to see the optimism returning to him again.

Before we turned, he always had something cool to teach me – like how to impale a spear without getting it tangled up with the entrails, how to break a person’s neck most efficiently, how to wrestle an infected much larger than myself if I get cornered. But nothing made me happier than when he showed me normal things like how to work out, how to play football, and the best lube to get a ball-busting wank. It’s like he’s showing me pieces of who he was before the plague.

The day got even better when my brother and the rest dropped by to visit. Felicia even brought little Adam to see us. Mark was distant from the rest at first, until Adam puts on his full mode of kiddy charm. After like ten seconds of shyness, he’s jumping up and down his bed, tugging and climbing all over him. They looked so cute together because Mark’s so big and Adam’s so tiny. And yet Mark is sitting there like the empire state building with King Kong all over him. Adam asked Mark if he’s Frankenstein because he looked like one. Felicia threatened him with ‘the stool’ when they get home, but Mark wasn’t offended by it. He even made a snarling face to entertain him. Adam probably didn’t remember much of the infected. Not enough to be afraid of us, which was a bad thing considering the number of open sores and cuts on his body. Everyone was tensed up, especially my brother. But they didn’t say anything because Mark was clearly enjoying the attention.

Beer might be the best social lubricant to forge friendships for most people. For Mark, it seemed to be kids. Adam warmed him up enough to chat with Tristan and Felicia. He asked them things like, “Where did they find this little guy?” “How old is he?” “What the hell do you feed him with?” And before long, Felicia went on and on about Adam’s weird rashes, the perils of potty training when the shit hole was dug a little too wide for a toddler, how she fought with my brother when he thought it was a good idea to bring Adam to the barricade so he could learn to be afraid of the infected.

I can tell that Mark really likes children. Even I was a little scared about their physical proximity. A simple hug was one thing. But if the boy has a cut or something, he might catch Chimera from us. In the end, Grace saved the day by getting Mark out of the room for another round of medical examination.

Peter arrived a little later with Grey. His bandage was off and I could see his burn scars clearly. It wasn’t as bad as it seemed a few days ago, but it would stay with him for life. And it’s all because of me. I told him that I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. He shrugged and said that it’s not like I ruined his modelling career. Besides, he thought he still looked better than me. That made me laughed.

“The scars made him look dangerous, don’t you think? Who knows the ladies might like it. Real ladies.” Tristan elbowed and winked at Peter.

“Don’t let Claudia hear you say that.” Felicia said.

“Who’s she?” I asked.

“He,” Grey smirked and corrected, “is a very popular guy among my regiment.”

“And Bob’s regiment too.” Tristan chuckled.

After Grace returned, my brother started complaining about the rumors spreading across the grapevine. There were talks about conscription to replenish the fighting forces. Who’s going to hunt and grow food then? There will be taxes, mandatory labor assignments, a police force, and other shitty things circulating. He asked Grace if any of this is true, since she had been spending a lot of time with Payne recently. I almost missed the dirty look he threw at her. Grace ignored his last comment, and Grey answered instead.

“We hope to do things right this time. Plan ahead and not wait until things got so bad that we have to take draconian measures.” He said, referring to what happened to them at the school. Things got so bad until the sacrifices Walter asked from them started to look like atrocities.

“Payne’s tried to get the commune leaders on board to this. He’ll make the announcements once enough people are sold.” Grace finally responded.

“Why not just hold an election? Quick and easy.” Felicia chipped in.

“It’s not a popularity contest. He needs to do what needs to be done. And he needs to do it fast. We don’t have time for politics.” Grace said.

“So we’ll settle for dictatorship instead?” Tristan said.

“No, Payne’s appointing a council to look at different things – food production, construction, law and order, health etc. He’s just going to focus on security.”

“That sounds exactly like the Major.” Peter smirked. “He’ll delegate his farting to someone else if he can.”

They left just before nightfall. Trekking in the dark wasn’t fun at all and batteries were precious.

My brother and my friends didn’t come to visit for the next week. Even Grace dropped by only every other day. Sister Latoya was in charge of our food and medications. I heard that a lot of things were happening outside – massive construction projects, houses being torn down and relocated, farms were razed and centralized, lots of grumbling around and people were now hounding the new council instead of Payne. He was a lot smarter than he seemed. Last I heard, Grey was put in charge of security while Payne took over public education. He said it’s because Grey was a professional soldier while he was just a school principal wearing army uniform. Sister Latoya joked that he probably figured that public education would be the least unpopular role on the council. Everyone was busy, even my brother.

The detox program Grace put us through made us violently sick. For the next few days, we did nothing but throw up stomach acid and coughed out copious amount of black phlegm. To make things worse, Sister Latoya took us off from the glucose drip, serving us fruits and slices of raw fish. We threw up everything within an hour. Mark whined and refused to take another bite. On the second meal, Sister Latoya came back with the same thing and the fish is even lightly steamed this time. We could survive on raw animal meats, if we’re lucky to stumble upon them. We’re not the best hunters around. But cooked meat is lifeless to us, it’s like eating plastic.

I had seen him irritable and sometimes even violent when the hunger gripped us and we’re low on depressants. But it’s funny to see him whine like a kid who refused to take his vegetables. The Sister came back two hours later, this time dousing our meals with a generous dose of pig’s blood. It’s kind of a compromise. Then she went on Mark like a stern headmistress and said, “Young man, if you don’t eat your supper, I’ll have to tell Grace to come feed you herself!”

Mark buckled under her threat like a cowered school boy. He told me to wipe the smirk off my face when he started eating.

Things only got better after the fourth day. That’s when Grace decided to show up. I wondered if she had uncanny timing or she purposely avoided our unpleasant moments. She’s all pleased when we’re docile and exhausted when she visited. She was in a better mood than we saw her the last time. As I had expected, Grace was put on the council to oversee public health.

She asked how we coped for the last days. Mark told her that it was hell and that we had to stay sober throughout. I expected Grace to tell him off, but she explained to him like a good doctor would (someone is really in a good mood). She said that Chimera hijacked our immune system, that’s why we get so sick after the medication suppressed it. It forced our bodily functions to reboot and take charge. Eating real food will force our stomach to produce acids and enzymes normally.

After the eighth day, Grace allowed my brother to take us out of the house. He brought me to the red commune market. It’s not exactly a strip mall, but it’s interesting to see so many people peddling their wares - home-made ceramics, chopped fire woods, baked cakes and breads, fresh vegetables, goats and pigs, scavenged trinkets like batteries, screw driver, a rusty pocket watch. The whole place felt like a huge carnival with all the makeshift tents and shoddy wooden stools. The air smell of afternoon sweat and spices, and there were so much bustling – men trying to outsell their competitors, people arguing, pigs squealing, chicken clucking, sheep bleating. People were pushing each other, visiting from stalls to stalls. Bored women were manning the vegetable stands, shading their eyes from the sun with one hand and swatting away flies with the other. It almost felt like the world didn’t end, it just turned back the clock and we went back to the middle-ages. Tristan showed me the public flogging area where he was tied up after getting caught for stealing. He said it like it was his claim to fame.

There were a lot of pregnant women, just like Grace said. No one used money anymore, so people just stood there for a long time to haggle over what they could offer in exchange. There’s also one corner in the market where they put long rows of blackboards where you can write notes with chalk sticks. Normally it’s about what you offer and what you want in exchange. I took a quick glance and condoms were on a lot of people’s wish lists. It wasn’t the only thing they were willing to barter for, of course. They also wanted exotic things like toilet rolls, dental floss, one even wanted an iPad 6 (God knows for what). But I only saw one person got condoms on their offering list. And to make sure people notice his ad, he even made a cute drawing of a pointy hat wizard below a pinned empty condom wrapper and an exclamation that read ‘thou shall not pass’. This guy got a sense of humor. Welcome to the new Craiglist, my brother said.

“How come Felicia didn’t get knocked up like the rest? She’s on pills?” I asked Tristan.

“Pills?” He was half laughing and grunting. “You’d think they airdrop those supplies? I would be lucky if I get to third base with her - unless she’s having periods. But then, I’d still have to take turns with that lumberjack-Jack.”

“Huh? And you’re okay with that?” I said.

He shrugged. “What can I do? Find a girl who isn’t knocked up? It’s not like I got a lot of choices, Dan. At least she’s committed, as far as Adam’s concerned. That’s good enough for me.”

It never occurred to me that my brother is the sharing type, not when it comes to his girlfriend. I didn’t quite understand why until I see Claudia in person. He was peddling his wares in the market – a bunch of army-issued knives, bandages, combat rations. Claudia isn’t transgendered, he’s not even transvestite. His real name is Claudio and he’s a very pretty and effeminate man. He’s wearing a thick oversized sweater and a pair of frayed khaki slacks. He could have been wearing that since winter. My brother met him at the market, telling him that he had a gay brother after Claudio tried to hit on him. That’s my brother for you. He could chat up with anyone in the world. One day my brother heard him sing by the river while washing his laundry, he thought it was a woman singing, and it sounded beautiful. He hooked Claudio up for a gig to perform for the soldiers since Grey his soldiers needed some boost to their flagging morale. Claudio was pretty destitute when my brother met him. But soon, he found a lucrative trade by offering blow jobs in exchange for army supplies. And my jaw dropped to the ground when I heard that it was my brother who pitched the idea to him.

“Oh c’mon, Dan. Don’t be such a prude. A guy needs to get off, you know.” Tristan said.

“And a girl needs to eat.” Claudio smiled and hooked his arm around Tristan, “Your brother is my hero! I wouldn’t last through winter otherwise.”

“He’s your pimp!” I cried.

“And that makes you his pimp-in-law!” Tristan quipped.

It’s not uncommon for people to prostitute themselves for food and supplies these day. Even I had my stint in the world’s oldest profession, even though I had no real customers. I wondered if it was because of my age, or if it was because Claudio looked so pretty with those long eyelashes and slender frame,

After we left Claudio’s stall, I asked my brother why the soldiers didn’t asked women for blowjobs instead. I mean, women wouldn’t mind since they can’t get pregnant from that right? Or are the soldiers gay? Tristan said there are some female sex workers around, but they charged a lot more – like food or medicines. Claudio’s smart enough to take whatever trinkets they offered and traded them at the market.

At first I was slightly amused by the whole conversation. Mom and Dad would flip in their grave if they knew my brother was educating me on the prospects of a prostitution career these days. Then he told me about the soldiers attempting suicides last winter. It was only a few months after they lost their families and friends. Many wondered if they should have gone home to protect their loved ones instead of defending their country. The infected may have annihilated the bulk of us last autumn. But in winter, it was hunger and loneliness that killed the most.

He told me that it’s hard to find someone these days. Looking good don’t mean shit to girls. They wanted men who can provide them food and security. Hunters and farmers were prime beef these days. That’s why Peter didn’t give a shit about his face, nobody cared anymore. The women had wised up. Pretty boys weren’t going to keep them or their babies warm and fed.

That’s why Tristan was grateful for Felicia. At least he had someone. Not a lot of women were as brave as her. A guy could just force themselves instead of settling for third base. The commune leaders hated to arbitrate such disputes because it’s hard to know who’s telling the truth. It’s not like they have CSIs and it boiled down to who they choose to believe.

Suddenly, I remembered my brother teasing Peter about Claudio, and I realized that he didn’t get defensive or anything. I got curious and asked Tristan, “So… Did Peter erm… seek out his services?”

“What? Are you going to judge him?” He said.

“No… I’m just surprised. I didn’t think he’ll be into Claudio.”

“Peter’s a survivor. He’ll make do with what he can find. Besides, you haven’t seen Claudio in a wig and padded bra.” Tristan grinned. It didn’t take him long to get inspired and suggested that I could try that trick on Mark. Who knows I might still get laid before our extinction is upon us. The most infuriating bit was that my brother genuinely believed that it was a good idea. I told him that he should do the world (or what’s left of it) a favor and never be a gay dating coach. He shrugged and said that he was just looking out for me and it obviously did work for Claudio.

Before he brought me back to Grace’s place, an old man tugging a kid approached me. He said he recognized me. I gave him food while we were stuck on the highway, just before they bombed it. Everyone said they let an infected come into the settlement. He didn’t know it was me, and he was sorry that I didn’t make it.

He asked where I stayed. And he thought I was staying at the orphanage when I told him I was staying at the mountain top facility. He offered me a shelter. I could stay with him and the small boy in the small shack by the creek. I was surprised and pretty moved when he made that offer. I was a stranger, and an infected one. All I did was gave him some dried algae. I thanked him and said no, I had my brother to look out for me.

The market was thinning out when the sun casts long shadows on us. People were packing up their stalls and wares with their families helping them. I wondered how many of their family they actually knew before this whole thing started. I told Tristan how I felt. How much the world had changed and I felt so lost in it. He said tough times bring out the best and worst in people. You know who your real families are when they share food and blankets with you during winter.

***

I was still thinking about what my brother said after a few weeks. I couldn’t understand or explain the aching emptiness inside. It’s like you suddenly wake up from a coma and find that everything is different and you missed all the things you once hated. A year ago I might have still believed that the nightmare would end someday and we would rebuild the world - high speed internet, starbucks, endless stripmalls, cheesy romantic comedies. It won’t be the same world again, because we were no longer who we were. And it might not be a bad thing. I met more people in the past year than I had in my entire life.

Mark might have missed the old world more than I did. He had a lot more to lose. I was a social recluse; I liked to dabble in my little science projects. I didn’t miss anyone or anything other than Mom and Dad. Maybe I did miss wikipedia, when all the answers to the universe were only a single click away. I didn’t even discover masturbation until I was fourteen, just a few months before the world ended. And I thought it was the proudest achievement of my life.

Mark asked why I looked so mopey. We’re feeling better, and our bodily functions are starting to reboot. He even bragged about sporting a morning wood when he woke up. Duh, like I won’t notice that. Maybe we should form a welcome committee for Mark Junior. He smacked my head and said I’m not cute after I’m all grown up. Of course, he expected me to stay fourteen forever? I would be sixteen in a few weeks’ time.

“God, it’s been a year.” He muttered.

He asked me what I wanted for my birthday. You. I said I don’t know.

He asked me what I missed the most. Pizza? Pop tarts? Video games? I told him I missed going to the dentist. He laughed and said that I’m a really funny kid. I reminded him again that I’m turning sixteen, not six. He raised both of his hands in mock surrender and said, “All right, someone’s legal now. I get it.”

“Legal for what?” I blurted out and regretted immediately.

“Driving license, of course. What do you think I’m talking about?” He flashed a cocky grin and pinched my face, “Aw, look who’s blushing…”

“Bullshit. My skin is gray.” I slapped his hand away.

He looked at me and kept quiet for a while. Then he said softly, “I’m sorry I did this to you.”

“You didn’t do this. I chose this.” I said.

He smiled weakly and ruffled my hair. “Back at the orphanage, I told you that I wished you’re a girl. I didn’t mean you aren’t good enough for me.”

“You like what you like. Don’t apologize for that -” I said, trying to sound matured about the whole thing. I wished he hadn’t reminded me about that.

“No, let me finish.” He said. “I always wanted to have my own kids. You know how my mom left me and Dad’s always away on deployments. I thought that I would be a good Dad to my children, play football with them, be there for their school play, taking them on trips – I know it sounds old fashioned, but that was my dream.”

He stood up, walked to the windows, looking at the darkening skies outside and said, “I had a check!list of my dream girl, a good wife, a hot babe, smart and funny, someone who would stick around.”

I looked at his back, wondering where he’s going with this. Then he turned around and said, “She never showed up. But you did.”

Then it struck me. He wanted babies. And he wanted me to have his babies. And he swore that I was turning red for real this time.