Alone

ALONE

I can’t believe they’re all dead. We were fine, then we weren’t. It happened so quickly. So very, very quickly. My life shouldn’t be able to fall apart that quickly. Everyone I know shouldn’t be dead. I shouldn’t be alone.

I knew the world was getting dangerous—doomsday clock dangerous. Super powers sabre rattling, threatening mutually assured destruction. Threats of annihilation. Attempted assignations of global leaders. Governments were becoming more and more unhinged. People were frightened.

Reports were spotty. There was no way to fact-check because “they”—the government, legit news sources, even fringe news sources—weren’t available to confirm, deny, or vilify. The internet was down. Radio and television were off the air,, newspapers were a thing of the past. We were in a vacuum. The only information we received was from people who’d heard from a friend of a friend, or from travellers moving from one place to another. But we knew something horrific was being unleashed upon the world.

I can’t stress how confusing and terrifying it was. So many conflicting stories. This was happening. That was happening. We were safe, so shelter in place. We were in danger, so bug out and get as far away from civilization as possible. There was a vaccine. There was no vaccine. People started stockpiling food, water, and, of course, toilet paper (thank you COVID19 for making that bit of neurotic behaviour real and entrenched). Panic ensued. The rule of law fell. But we still didn’t know exactly what was coming for us.

Then we did.

It happened unexpectedly fast. One day we were trying to make sure we had enough potable water to survive, next day people are dying all around me. I watched as everyone I knew and cared for succumbed and waited for my turn. But it never came. I didn’t die. I survived.

Earlier, there had been whispers about bio weapons that had been deployed in small batches, leaving small isolated populations decimated—weapons deployed by their own country. Test subjects some said, to check the efficacy of the weapons. The rumours turned out to be true.

This bio weapon was like no other. Not a poison, but a virus. We were all very familiar with the havoc an uncontainable virus can wreak. But we were hopeful. Our governments wouldn’t let us die, right? They wouldn’t develop a virus that didn’t have a vaccine, right? The threat of billions of people dead globally would be enough to contain the rage and hubris of those whose fingers were on the buttons, right? The call for cooler heads would prevail, right?

We were wrong.

The US and Russia were facing off. Two superpowers vying for supremacy, each thinking they were more powerful than the other. Narcissistic personalities controlling the fate of the world, each country sure of their own primacy. Once one country unleashed their weapons, the other retaliated. Then it happened. The point of no return.

They used used the bio weapons strapped to missiles that dispersed viral death to millions upon impact. Even though biological weapons had been outlawed by the UN, and almost all the countries of the world signed and ratified the Biological Weapons Convention in 1972. At least two countries broke the accord. No one knows which country launched first. We just know that it effectively killed the world that we lived in.

Whomever had engineered that little monster had outdone themselves. It was horrific. I don’t know the official name of the weapon—a string of letters and numbers ending in 26—but people started calling it The Melt—after the scene in Indiana Jones where the Nazis’ faces melt because they looked at Arc of the Covenant.

It happened fast and was absolute. It started with a cough, and within hours, you were dead. It was transmitted through direct contact, indirect contact, respiratory droplets, airborne aerosol particles—the whole shebang. It was everywhere. The scientists thought of everything—one day incubation, then liquefaction of all biological aspects of the human body from the inside out—like acid. Just a pile of lumpy goo left behind, some of the bigger bones, hair, and teeth mixed in. And, of course, whatever the person was wearing. The aftermath of a life lost was haunting. Imagine piles of clothes, bones, teeth and hair everywhere a person had died—in houses, on the streets, in cars, in stores. Every place a human being should be. The worst were the children. Tiny little clothes just lying there, the child and future potential lost forever.

This was, apparently, the plan all along.—target major cities, and let the wind carry the virus. No destruction of infrastructure equalled no need to rebuild, no financial implications. Just minimal clean up, and the cities were as good as new, waiting for a new world order. Winner take all.

Except it didn’t work out that way. Apparently there had been a vaccine, or a cure—a failsafe that was supposed to be used by the rich and powerful to maintain the power structure, allowing those survivors to rule the world. People paid millions of dollars for their vaccines—more than any normal person could afford. What the scientists didn’t account for was the extreme speed at which the virus mutated, rendering vaccines null and void. The became very expensive placebos. Rich and poor both died in the same way. Horribly.

And yet, here I am. The virus was ninety-eight or ninety-nine percent effective. I don’t know where I heard this figure—probably before we lost the internet. But it tracks. For every one hundred people there were one or two people left. These random survivors were now the population of the world.

But not all of them were whole. To some, the loss was overwhelming, the loneliness was overwhelming, reality was overwhelming. People who couldn’t cope, broke. They were the shadows running through the streets screaming. Or they were the bodies that were found. Suicide left a corpse, The Melt did not—that’s how we could tell a person’s fate.

There were also the gangs. Groups that somehow joined together, rampaged and terrorized other survivors. They were the worst. What did they want? Everything was there for the taking. Instead they turned to menace, mayhem, and murder. Why? Why murder when there were already so many dead? It made no sense.

My friends and family succumbed The Melt. I watched it happen. Over and over. When it was over, I was, literally, the last woman standing. And I was frightened. Before everyone died, we had worked together to survive. We made plans, found supplies, supported each other. Then they all died, and I was alone in a city where mayhem ruled.

So I left. I didn’t know where I was going to go. It wasn’t like The Stand—there were no dreams, no Mother Abigail, no Walkin’ Dude, no good versus evil pulling me towards them. Nope. It was just me.

I started moving south. Fall was coming and winters in my part of the world were brutal. I didn’t know if I could survive on my own trapped, snowbound, and alone. So I headed south.

Then I started seeing the signs. Big spray-painted messages on the sides of buildings, or right on the road. I was not the only person heading south. I followed the signs. I didn’t know if I was being lured into a trap, or if there really were people out there trying to come together to build a new community. But I needed people. I wanted to talk to someone, and not be alone, not be afraid.

The messages said they were travelling south-west, so I was heading south-west. I caught up with the caravan on the border between Colorado and New Mexico. But I didn’t approach them directly. Instead, I watched. I watched as they all worked together. I watched as they planned their route. I watched as they were kind to one another, joked, explained, and comforted. I watched as they shared a hug, and thanked each other for simple acts of kindness. I wanted that.

Watching these people made my heart ache, made my loneliness spiral into loss. I missed people. I wanted to be part of this group. I had been alone for so long that I physically ached for the touch of another human being, a word of encouragement, an unguarded laugh.

I needed these people. They were my salvation.

On the third day, I crept out of hiding and walked into their camp. “Hi!” I said. “My name is Melissa. I want to join your group.”

They welcomed me without question or reservation. They were my people now.