I let the scenario play out again and again, it was so much more bearable than reality. It was almost amusing how devastated I’d been back at the hospital, when the doctor told me about the cancer and gave me six months to live. He took away my whole life… And then when I met Mark and The Collective, those six months seemed like an entire lifetime. It was all a matter of perspective.
I emerged from my daydreams. When was the last time I’d seen any news reports? I reached for my handbag, carelessly abandoned under my bed, and took out my phone. I hadn’t turned it on since the flight attendant asked all passengers to switch off their electronic devices. As soon as it was back on, text notifications started popping out one after the other. From Emma–I realised with a flash of guilt that I’d completely forgotten about her–, the sergeant, my other colleagues and a few friends. From Mark.
I didn’t bother reading them and looked up the latest virus statistics. News about the plague had taken over everything else, the virus was all people were talking about. Laboratories had confirmed that it was man-made, and released deliberately. The number of infected people was rising at an alarming speed, despite all safety procedures. There was even a website showing the overall number of deaths.
Deaths!
I’d known this would happen, but this quickly? I stared at my phone in shock. It was a miracle that I, someone from the first line, was still alive, while others, infected much later, were already dying. Back in Perth, I’d heard Molly mention that weaker people would succumb more quickly, but I never thought that I’d live to see the irreversible destruction of lives. I’d assumed that all the other deaths would come long after my own…
It was a miracle I was still alive.
Then I corrected myself. It wasn’t a miracle so much as a curse.
Mark
In the last ten days I’d called Connie countless times, and all the calls went straight to voicemail. She wasn’t reacting to my texts either. I had no idea what was going on with her. I’d gone to her house several times, rang the doorbell with no response. Was she there and just didn’t want to open the door? Or was she staying somewhere else? Where would she have gone? I wasn’t aware of any other options besides the ones outlined in her folder. Her Dad didn’t have his own place that she might consider as a temporary shelter. She wasn’t with Emma or any of her other friends, I’d checked their houses and flats too.
Where was she? Could she have had a car accident again and ended up in hospital?
My life had now shrunk down to this one single mission; find Connie. I’d done my bit for The Collective. I’d attended various events every day since the injection. The protest, an evening show in a concert hall, pubs, shopping centres and markets, bars, walks through the city centre, local beaches that were forever busy. After Connie mentioned the airport, I went there a few times, too. As soon as the news of a mysterious infection reached TV news, I stopped. The plague would keep spreading even without any further contribution from me. Besides, I felt so awful physically, that I decided to focus all my remaining energy on searching for Connie.
What if the virus had already claimed her? The thought was unbearable. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I reached for my phone again, knowing that my attempts would be futile. I couldn’t quite believe it when I heard the phone ring.
Shortly after, her voice, much as it was affected by the illness. “Mark…”
“Connie,” I rasped back. My voice didn’t sound like my own either. It was the never ending cough, strained vocal cords, protesting lungs.
What should I say next? How’s it going? Stupid, she must have been feeling more sick than ever. What are you up to? Would she have enough energy to be out and about somewhere, after nearly three weeks–almost at the finish line? Obviously she was in bed!
“I’d like to see you again, one more time…” Well, there it was. The words felt like a declaration of love. Maybe she didn’t see it like that, because she didn’t know me as well as I knew her, but that didn’t change anything.
Would I still be able to get out of bed, into my car, and drive to her? I hadn’t drunk or eaten anything since yesterday morning, and although my stomach was writhing with hunger and my mouth was unbearably dry, it wasn’t worth the trip to the kitchen. But seeing Connie… maybe even hugging her…
“I’d like to see you again too,” she said quietly and I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. “But I can’t.”
“Why not?” I was almost too weak to speak, how could I persuade my body to do anything more than that? But I’ll make it, I ordered myself. “I’ll get to you. Right now, if you want! I…”
“Mark, I’m in New Zealand.”
Silence fell between us while I was processing that.
“How… When…?” I stammered.
“The day after the protest. Those tickets were just a charade for Dad, to make him believe me… but in the end I had to go to them.”
“So when you told me you were at the airport…”
“I meant that I was waiting for my flight. But I reckon I’d infected loads of people along the way, so The Collective can’t say anything. The airport was buzzing with people, and the plane was almost full.” She was crying and clearly it took a lot of effort. Her sobs were interspersed with wheezing breaths, rasping and coughing.
How could I have been so stupid? Of course she’d taken the opportunity to join her family, to spend her last moments with them. I was the only idiot who’d sentenced himself to house arrest and made peace with
