“Do you think anyone else might have survived, besides the ones chosen by The Collective?” asked Johanka, Slovakian by origin.
It was refreshing to go back to my native language and talk to her and her eight year old son in Czech. Most times I stuck to English, our society was multicultural, everyone came from a different part of the world and English was one of the few things we all shared. French, Spanish, or German was often heard from groups of two or four until another person joined them. That automatically meant switching to English. I liked this respect for others and did the same.
Johanka was still waiting for an answer.
“It’s possible, but very unlikely.” Nelson, a doctor, North America. Any time anyone spoke, I tried to add a name, a profession and a country of origin to their name. Sometimes I got stuck on the name, sometimes I couldn’t even get that far. When it came to names, I was usually useless. It made me feel embarrassed, especially since it seemed that everyone was able to remember mine.
“Why do you think so?” I responded. Somebody had to, for the sake of the eager listeners if nothing else.
“I’m not an epidemiologist and I probably missed a lot of news and information since the beginning of my isolation in the shelter, but I’d say that this infection is probably quite similar to other viruses,” he said thoughtfully. “Take Ebola for example, you’re infectious even after you die. So imagine how many corpses in various stages of decomposition are lying around now. Everyone who’s somehow avoided the virus, even if there is someone like that, would eventually have to venture out to get food. Don’t you think that sooner or later they’d come into contact with…”
I shuddered remembering the few corpses I’d seen on the way from “our” farm to the tree. I always sped up and tried to get away as quickly as possible to protect Ruby from seeing them. The idea of all those dead people in Rotorua and other cities was making my stomach turn.
“But maybe, on some remote farm, they wouldn’t need to leave…” Gerald, Irish. His profession got lost in the onslaught of other information.
“What if animals could be hosts too? Pigs, bats?” Jaana asked, she clearly knew enough about viruses to make the connection. The fact that the infection came from a lab and was spread by people didn’t mean that animals couldn’t get it too.
Nelson hummed in agreement and the questions kept coming; none of them helping to get us out of this cycle.
“What about the ships that were out on the open sea when the plague spread? Far from the shore?”
“Wouldn’t the sailors get sick as soon as they stepped into a port?”
People here were trying to find some crack, a side road they could use to avoid the plague. It was much too late for their loved ones, but I suppose it was only natural to feel compassion for everyone else too, and wish that they survived.
“And anyway, how would we contact them?” Billy said. “There is no other form of communication beyond in-person anymore. No internet, no working machines, no electricity.”
“Forget about finding others,” I agreed, albeit half-heartedly. Our community was everything there was, end of story. “We should focus on setting things up here, and making our own chances of survival the highest they can be. We have no control whatsoever over what happens to others.”
“Don’t you wish that other people survived this too, Frank?”
“Of course I do,” I defended myself. Wasn’t I waiting for the team returning from the tree just as desperately as everyone else? “But we can’t do anything to help them survive, and we most likely won’t ever meet anyone like that anyway. Why dwell on it?”
If anyone really did manage to survive, their life must be truly lonesome now.
Together we were making our way through the surrounding areas, adding real life images to our maps. Those were now taped together and displayed on one of the cafeteria walls. Since we were using it as a conference room and to discuss things about farming and orcharding, it was useful to have it there for reference.
My eyes were always drawn to its blue patches representing nearby rivers, ponds and lakes. Finally I managed to get out Hugh’s–actually, now mine–fishing rod, and persuade Billy to accompany me on a morning trip to a river. We asked Grace who was sharing a cottage with Billy, Jaana, me and our children to look after Ruby and Graham in the morning. The two of us headed northeast before sunrise.
I’d gotten so used to the hum of the community, the children’s shrieking, that the silence of nature suddenly seemed a bit unsettling. I felt strangely exposed, as if there were several pairs of animal eyes watching me from the darkness. It made me think once again about what an almost complete absence of the human population will do to fauna and flora. No doubt it will only bring good things, nature will recover from the wounds caused by people and start to flourish again. But what about, say, wild animals? How will they act? Will they be even more timid than before? Will they still see us as predators that they need to run away from? Or will it be the other way around?
Every crack of a twig, rustle of wings and hoot made me flinch and stare into the shadows for a while. For God’s sake, you are a lumberjack! You’ve spent most of your life among trees, I reminded myself.
“Everything alright?” Billy whispered as if he was also being careful not to disturb anything that might wait in the dark.
“Sure…” I replied. Even so, I felt relieved when the sun finally emerged above the horizon and
