This is a short, bleak piece about some of our possible near
futures. SF outlets don't want to hear about COVID right now, for the
most part, so I'm putting it here.
"You're insane, Erik."
"I'm insane? Justin, have you thought about what they want us to do?"
"Want
us to do?" Justin slumped against the kitchen counter. "It's not like
we have a choice. Listen, I don't want to do it, either. It's
terrifying."
"And for what?" Erik threw up his hands.
"So the economy can 'get moving'? So rich people can get richer? That's
why we can't stay safe until there's a cure? Until at least there are
hospital beds?"
"Yeah, I guess," Justin said. "And so
that all this can finally end. It's awful. All of this is awful." He
stepped over to Erik, took his hand. "But at least we'll do it
together."
Erik looked down. "No, Justin. We won't. I can't." He pulled his hand away. "I need you to respect my decision."
Justin sighed. So much lost, the last year. The world kept getting smaller. "I guess I don't have a choice."
***
Justin
opened the door from the garage and stepped outside. He felt brittle in
the cold night air. He shrugged his robe tighter around his shoulders
and padded across the yard to the small round stone. To the six-foot by
three-foot patch of freshly-dug earth.
He took a deep breath. "You sure don't make this easy, love," he murmured.
***
The
doorbell was like a recording from another time. A time with dinner
guests, board game nights, New Year's Eve parties. Good times.
If only. Justin heaved himself off the couch and opened the door.
"Hi,
Mr.-- uh, hi, Justin." The young woman carrying a small plastic case
gave him a chagrined smile. She'd been young enough to call him Mr.
Carson when she'd dog-sat for them. Professor Bones had died ten years
ago.
"Olivia! You're our Prefect? How are you? Uh..." he wavered. It seemed dangerous. Forbidden. But... "w-won't you come in?"
Olivia stepped casually into the living room. Of course. She must do this all the time. "Thank you! Um, is Erik around?"
"Olivia,
uh... Erik...." Justin swallowed. He'd been rehearsing this all
morning. "Erik couldn't handle... this. Today. It was too much for him.
Here..." Justin walked over to the window and pulled the curtain aside.
He gestured out toward the stone and upturned earth in the corner of the
yard.
Olivia's hand went to her mouth. "Oh, Justin, I'm so sorry." And then she hugged him.
It
was the first time anyone but Erik had touched him in a year. Justin's
body shuddered, and he started to pull away. And then he realized: it
didn't matter. Not today. Not ever again. Slowly, he relaxed and just...
hugged someone.
Olivia gave him a tight squeeze and
then stepped back. "Sorry, I forget. You're not used to that, yet." She
frowned. "Justin, you know you should've reported... this. There's gonna
be a lot of paperwork. You could get fined." Her shoulders sagged.
"Probably not, though. A lot of people have been making the choice Erik
made."
"So," he said, "I guess you came here to... do
what Prefects do." Justin still found the term 'Prefect' ridiculous, but
it resonated with the Harry Potter crowd. For them -- and the Prefects
were all young adults, infected early and now immune -- it seemed
orderly. Calming.
"Right. OK." Olivia sat down on the
couch and opened her case. Six syringes. In a better world, they'd be
full of a vaccine. In this world, they held active virus. "I guess we
won't need all these." She pulled out a syringe. "The first one's the
important one. That's why I need to do it for you. The other two are
just to make sure. One per day." She took the cap off. "Sit down and
tilt your head back, please."
It was nothing compared
to what the stuff in the syringe was about to do to him. But, for just a
second, Justin felt like he was drowning in poison.
***
Justin opened his eyes. He was freezing and damp all over. Couldn't stop shaking. His chest was burning. He stank.
The
bedroom was pitch black except for a bright, rectangular light coming
from the nightstand. Too bright to look at. Justin squirmed in
discomfort.
"Oh, thank God!" The voice came from the
same place as the light. Erik's voice? But Erik was in the backyard,
now. Wait, no, he wasn't. That had been a lie.
The voice spoke again, and there was movement in the light. "Justin, you're going to be okay. Just hold on, honey."
***
"I
go back to the office on Tuesday," said Justin, pushing down the lever
on the toaster. "Janet is in Gamma Group, like us-- like me... so it's
the first day back for both of us. About half the department's back
already."
From the laptop on the kitchen counter, Erik flashed a big grin. "Congratulations, honey!"
Justin opened the fridge and pulled out the peanut butter. "Are you... going to be okay down there?"
"What,
me?" Erik's eyes, which had been looking off toward his second monitor,
flicked back toward the camera. "Never better! Hey, look." Erik
disappeared, and the camera panned around their basement. Erik seemed so
far away... hard to believe he was just fourteen feet below Justin. "I
got the rowing machine set up. And the new stove! As long as you keep me
in food and TP, I'm great!"
Justin had to try. "Hey, uh... I don't suppose you'd reconsi--"
"Justin."
Erik was suddenly all serious. "You're 44. You barely made it. I'm a
56-year-old ex-smoker. I'll take my chances down here, thanks." Erik's
frown turned deeper. "Besides, you know what would happen if they knew I
was alive. What they do to Hiders."
Justin was staring at the toaster.
"What?" Erik asked.
"I just made breakfast."
"Yeah?"
"Out
of habit. I've made toast every day for the last year." Justin blinked.
"I'm going out for breakfast today. I'm meeting Jarred at Julie's
Brunch in ten minutes."
"Oh. Uh... don't say hi for me."
"Yeah. Yeah." Justin was trying to hide a smile and not doing very well at it. "Hey, I'll check back in with you in an hour."
"Nah, it's OK," Erik said. "I was just about to put on a movie."
***
"Ooh, what's for dinner tonight?"
"Eggplant parmesan," Justin said, looking up from the stove. "It's on the calendar."
"Oh, yeah," said Erik. "Forgot to check. Hey, uh," he paused. "Remember to wipe down the plate before you put it on the stairs."
"Are you kidding?" Justin turned back to the stove. "Gotta keep you healthy!"
***
"Where were you?" Erik's voice sounded a bit choked, from the laptop, but it might have been the connection.
"Hey,
Erik! Sorry, Janet and Lewis invited me out for dinner.... It got a
little late." Justin looked guilty. "I'll throw something together for
you."
"Nah, don't bother," Erik said. "I made spaghetti. I'll put the dishes on the stairs."
"Hey, how about we watch Die Hard and get plastered, later?"
"Um," Erik was looking at his other monitor. "No thanks. Got stuff to do."
***
"Justin!"
"Mmmph."
"Justin, wake up!"
Justin rolled toward the screen. "Erik? What's wrong?"
"You won't believe this! The virus... they've proved it was a bioweapon!"
Justin sighed. "Who, this time? End Times News? The Halon Report?"
Silence.
"It was Halon, wasn't it? Erik, those people are filth."
A window popped up on Justin's screen. Call ended.
***
"Erik, what do you want for dinner?"
...
"Honey, you have to eat. You haven't touched anything in three days."
...
"All right, I'll call when I get back. Love you."
***
"Erik, what did you do?"
"N-nuffin'."
"Erik, what is--. Did you... smash the TV... with the microwave?"
"Made myshelf a drink. Somethin' speshul."
"Oh, great. That's just--"
"Put somethin' in it I've been holdin' onto. Somefin I brought wif me... how long I bin down here, Jus?"
"Four months, Erik. You know that."
"Four mumfs I been holdin' onto these li'l suckers." Erik waved an orange bottle with a white cap in front of the camera.
"Oh, God. Oh, God! Erik, I-- I--". Justin jumped up and ran to the sink, started furiously washing his hands. "Hold on!"
***
Justin
opened the door from the garage and stepped outside. He felt brittle in
the cold night air. He shrugged his robe tighter around his shoulders
and padded across the yard to the small round stone. To the six-foot by
three-foot patch of freshly-dug earth.
He took a deep breath. "You sure don't make this easy, love," he murmured.
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