“You have reached Ashcroft Stores of California. Our offices are closed temporarily due to the outbreak. If you know the extension you’re trying to reach, please dial it now, followed by the pound sign. Otherwise, leave a message at the sound of the tone. We thank you for your patien–”
Kelly punched in 888# – eight was Mr. Ashcroft’s favorite number – and waited for Wanda, Mr. Ashcroft’s receptionist, to pick up. Wanda just about lived in the office – she’d be there this early.
“You have reached the office of Julian Ashcroft, president and CEO of Ashcroft Stores of California. Please leave a message at the tone.” BEEEEEP!
She was momentarily stunned – the only time she’d ever hit Mr. Ashcroft’s voice mail was on a weekend. Finally she remembered to speak. “Mr. Ashcroft, this is Kelly Sweeney, the GM at #17 in Sayler Beach.” Ashcroft’s stores were meant to look mom-and-pop, but at corporate HQ they were still numbers. “I’ve been out sick the last week, and no one’s answering the phone at the store. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m headed over there right now to find out.” She added her cell number and hung up.
Bizarre – had everyone slept in today? What was the deal with that message Ganj had left on Wednesday? None of this made sense …
… wait. What was that on the automated voice system again? She redialed the office to check.
“You have reached Ashcroft Stores of California. Our offices are closed temporarily due to the outbreak. If you …”
Outbreak? What outbreak? It couldn’t have been what she just had – you didn’t shut down a corporation, not even a smaller one like Ashcroft Stores, because of the flu. But … she suddenly recalled her mom’s comment about “what with everything that’s going on.” She’d blown it off, too angry about the “moods” jab. Besides, Mom’s “everything that’s going on” often meant a Democrat being elected or the local school district installing solar panels or homosexuals being allowed to breathe. No reason to take it seriously.
Only then did she remember she had news alerts. Maybe she should check those out. She sat on her bed and tapped the Associated Press news app on her phone. Maybe that would give her some insight.
MILLIONS DEAD FROM NEW PLAGUE was the top headline. A headline that was dated four days ago, Thursday. The day after Ganj’s last message.
Kelly backed up and scrolled through the alerts she received. She’d thought there were a few – actually, there were over twenty. The last one was late Thursday evening. And they all were reporting on this plague that was spreading worldwide at lightning speed. It started with flu-like symptoms, then extreme lethargy, mental debility and finally death as the brain stopped working. Every continent was being ravaged by it. Governments and social services were falling apart. Entire countries were out of contact with the rest of the world …
She found she was hyperventilating, and forced her breathing to slow down. This was the stuff of bad movies – it couldn’t actually be happening. She remembered the COVID outbreak, how millions had died and hundreds of millions were sick … but that happened over a couple of years, not a week! There was no way …
… or was there? “Think, Kel, think,” she told herself. Who would know what was going on?
She tried calling the store again – no answer. She called Ganj’s home number – no answer. She called Ravinder and Bilbo and Sarah and LaSheba and Vivi Fifi – no answers. The Molinaros – no answer. The Matchicks in Atherton and the Ashcrofts in Millbrae – no answer. She had the numbers for a couple of local radio stations and tried those, then looked up the San Francisco TV stations, then Marin General Hospital and Kentfield Hospital and Sutter Pacific and MarinHealth and her doctor and her therapist and the county sheriff and 911 and even operator assistance.
No answer. No answer. No answer.
In desperation she called her parents in Oklahoma, even if it risked having to talk to Mom. But all she got was the answering machine – which thankfully her dad recorded the message for. “Ya reached the Sweeneys. We ain’t in at present, so leave us a message. Or don’t, but if ya don’t leave it, I cain’t return it. Your choice.” BEEEEEP!
“Dad, it’s Kelly! I just want to make sure you’re all right! I can’t reach anyone right now and I … I …” She tried to swallow the panic rising in her throat. “… anyway, when you get this, call me back on my cell, okay? I love you.” She hadn’t meant to add that last part, but … well, she just hoped he heard it.
Kelly took a deep breath, held it as long as she could, let it out slowly, did it again. The fourth breath seemed to do the trick. She stood, headed out of the house and forced herself to walk, not run, to the store. Sayler Beach wasn’t big enough for anything to be far from anything. She’d be there in five minutes just walking.
Or that’s what she thought. She wasn’t even halfway there when she saw the first corpse.
2
BODIES
Kelly had never seen a dead body before, except at a funeral. Those had been carefully restored by professionals to something approaching lifelikeness, to look peaceful and smell … well, not smell like anything much.
This body hadn’t been touched by anyone. He was slumped against the steering wheel of a Volvo, eyes open and jaw hanging, one hand splayed
