protecting against. If the virus was airborne, there was little I could do. If it was spread by contact, that was something else.
A raindrop hit my windshield and I looked at the darkening sky. Storm. Great. Maybe I’ll get home before it hits. With any luck, it’ll all blow over.
3
“… in related news, the Enillo Virus has claimed millions of lives worldwide, and scattered reports of victims returning from the comatose state and attacking their caregivers are on the rise. In Africa, a veritable army of infected people are slowly marching their way across the continent, ravaging every village and city they come across. Their numbers seem to swell from each attack, and nations across the globe are scrambling to counter what many have called the worst crisis mankind has ever faced. Infected individuals seem to be impervious to pain or even what some might consider debilitating injuries. New reports coming in from New York and Chicago and Los Angeles indicate a heavy population of infected individuals. Official reports are debunking the somewhat popular notion that the dead have come back to life. YouTube videos abound on the internet, and officials warn self-styled “Zombie Hunters” that they will be prosecuted within the fullest extent of the law. Anyone caught looting will also be prosecuted. Individuals are urged to stay in their homes and avoid all contact with infected individuals. They are to be considered extremely dangerous. If a loved one or family member exhibits any symptoms of the virus, they are to be isolated immediately, and the family is to place a white cloth on their mailboxes to alert emergency personnel to the presence of another victim.”
I switched off the television and looked out my front window. I could see three houses with white towels on their mailboxes, and I wondered how many more will there be? Will there come a time when all the houses have white flags on them? If your house doesn’t have a white flag, will the officials think you’re immune and want to take you away for testing? Who knew?
The last week was a blur. I went to work and tried to keep things as normal as I could, but the kids were scared. Some were talking about how their mom or dad or sister was sick, and they didn’t know what to do. Many of my students were absent, their parents taking them to relatives in Mexico or other states, trying to get away from the large population center of Chicago. I worried about my brother, who lived downtown with his family, but I spoke with him the other day and he seemed fine. I called my parents in Virginia, but was only able to leave a message. Their house was fairly isolated, and my father was an ex-marine, so I figured they would be all right.
Two days ago, the governor of the state called for a suspension of attendance of public schools, the thought being that if a student were infected, he could easily spread it to many families due to the close nature of classrooms. For once the governor actually had a decent idea. So for the last two days I have been busy reloading ammunition, cleaning my guns, and stocking up on foodstuffs. Pickings were getting a little slim at the grocery store, as people began to see the wisdom of hunkering down and waiting out the storm.
I was very grateful Ellie had managed to get to the store before the real storm of public awareness hit, and I managed to make a few runs myself. I had gone to the bank and withdrew as much as I could, figuring to replace it should the worst pass. I didn’t want to be caught up short without cash, and yesterday they announced on the news that credit cards are going to be suspended to try to prevent people from going overboard and end up losing everything when the crisis passed. I bought everything I could think of, and my basement was pretty well stocked. I was going to feel like a class A fool if this thing blew over quickly, but the little voice in the back of my head said we were in for a rough ride.
Ellie was working today, and since I was home, I was doing the house thing with Jacob. He was such a little joy to have around. All smiles and not a worry in the world. His eyes, the little “chocolate browns”, as Ellie liked to call them just sparkled and when he looked at you it was if he was saying “I trust you with my world.” More than once I found myself just looking at him for a long time, wondering how in the hell I got so lucky.
Jake was playing in the living room when I got a call from Ellie.
“John?”
“Yeah, babe. What’s up?” I moved over to the kitchen table so I could keep an eye on our little one. He couldn’t crawl yet, but he was pretty good at a military crawl and rolling got him into trouble more times than not.
“Not a whole lot. We’ve been seeing a lot of patients today, and I might be later than usual.” Ellie sounded nervous.
“All right, I’ll feed Jake and get him bathed.” I tried to sound nonchalant, but inwardly my concern just skyrocketed.
“Thanks. And John?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“Are your toys loaded?” Ellie asked.
That sent my concern into the stratosphere. Ellie never asked about my guns, letting me have my little hobby as long as didn’t advertise it and kept my guns in a safe away from Jake. “Not yet, why?” I asked.
“You might want to think about having them handy.” Ellie said cryptically.
“Ellie, what is going on?” I said, more forcefully than I intended.
“John, just do it. Please. There’s more to this virus than people have been told.” Ellie said. “I gotta go, they’re paging me to the OR. Love you!”
“Love you, too.” I said, but the line had already cut out.
I wondered what the hell was going on, but I didn’t question Ellie. She had sources of information that did not have anything to do with the media. The cops that brought the victims in to the EMT’s that treated them at the scene to the victims themselves. Ellie often knew days before anyone else about things that were happening. She knew about a tuberculosis outbreak three days before the news reported it. But in all our years together, she had never told me to load my guns and have them handy. I decided maybe this was the event that was prickling my senses
I went down to the basement, after putting Jake in the Pack ‘n Play and putting on a baby video for him. Gotta love the electronic baby-sitter. I went down to my secret room, an area which was an expanded crawl space under the garage. It was large enough to stand in, and it was there that I had my gun safe and reloading equipment, and various other supplies and things. A casual glance would never reveal that there was anything there at all. Since no one ever expected there to be any usable space under a garage, if at all, it was the perfect hiding place. So I went down there and surveyed what I had and what I might need.
I had a modest firearm collection, around ten handguns and rifles. I didn’t have any theme to my collection, just bought what I wanted at the time, selling it when I wanted something else. I also had a few guns inherited from my Grandfather, so that added a bit. I had played at Cowboy Action Shooting for a while, owning a couple of six-guns, a lever-gun, and a pump shotgun. After that I got into IDPA, which was a lot less equipment oriented, and owned a Springfield XD in. 40 and a SIG P226 in. 40 caliber as well. I reloaded for a number of calibers, and lately had been reloading for. 40 S amp;W. On the rifle front I had an old Enfield № 4 MkI, and a couple of. 22’s. I had an Auto-Ordnance M1 Carbine replica that I had recently purchased, this was the one I had stocked up on ammo for. I had three additional 15-round magazines and two 30-round magazines for the little carbine, so that gave me 105 rounds without needing to reload a single mag. Thanks to the case and extra boxes I bought, I had 2000 rounds of ammo for the M1.
I took the two semi-auto pistols and grabbed all the extra magazines I owned for each. I grabbed four boxes of ammo and put all of this in a little backpack I had. I put all the magazines for the carbine in the bag, and put in three boxes of ammo for it. I put a box of. 22 ammo in the bag and grabbed the carbine and one of the. 22 rifles. At the last minute, I threw in a box of. 380 ammo, and the extra clip for the Walther PPK.
Slinging the now very heavy backpack on my shoulder, I ran upstairs. I checked on Jake and went into the office. I needed to think about what I was doing and where would be the best placement for armament. My IDPA days were serving me well at this point. I was looking at my home with new eyes. Where were the weaknesses, where were the bottlenecks? Where was the best place to store a gun for easy access? Do I shore up the windows, or do I block the stairwells? If I was determined to get in, what would stop me?
