Viral

Part 3

The temperature is well over ninety by the time you set out, joining back up with I-40. You're thankful for the slight breeze coming from the west but given the humidity, you feel like you're just swimming in a cloud. Glancing up at the sky, you scowl at the lack of clouds for shade, cursing your olive toned skin.

"I survived the end of the world only to get a sunburn and die of cancer," you mutter bitterly to yourself.

You're hopeful for any sort of rain, even if it means drudging along in heavy, rain sodden clothes.

Judging by the sky, you figure it's just a little after noon, your late rising forcing you to start walking when the heat is nearing its peak. Your map isn't large enough to encompass every small city between here and Amarillo and you hope you're able to find reasonable shelter before nightfall.

Good thing I started this journey when the earth gets the most sunlight then, huh?

You feel the beginning stirrings of manic laughter bubbling within your chest and you let out a few hearty laughs before clapping your hand over your mouth in an attempt to calm yourself. Two months of traveling alone in a new world almost devoid of people was taking its toll and you were in desperate need to talk to someone other than yourself.

Wiping a few stray tears from your eyes and releasing one last laugh, you trudge on, whispering, "I'm coming, Avi. I'm coming."

+++

You reach the town of Vega, its single water tower your first indication of location, just as the sun is touching the horizon. With the extra supplies strapped to your back and the brief lunch break you took, you walked more than you expected to and were thankful you could rest a bit longer tonight.

The town didn't look much different from Adrian; the same size or smaller, you didn't think it had much to offer in terms of finding additional food, but it did have a few stray houses planted along the frontage road. Veering from the main branch of I-40, you approach the few houses carefully, choosing the best looking one to spend the night in.

It's a small, ranch style home made of brick and white vinyl siding that was chipping and in rough shape. The roof, looking weak and weather worn, was slightly shifted and missing some shingles, but seems solid enough and given the lack of any major weather in the last week, you estimate you're probably safe enough for the evening. Setting your bags down on the cement front stoop, you approach the porch.

The front door swings open on its hinges, the screech of rusted metal loud in your ears. Taking a cautious step forward, you immediately regret your decision, the acrid scent of decay overpowering to your nose. Your stomach rolls uncomfortably and you dry heave as you spot the source of the smell. On the couch is a decomposing body, a woman judging by the size and dress still clinging to her bones, and it's obvious she hasn't been dead long.

Stepping backward an nearly tripping over your feet, you run from the house, darting through the prickly, dry grass and falling to your knees, vomiting onto the ground. Tears fall freely from your eyes and you sit back on your heels and attempt to calm your breathing.

That woman is the first person you've come across since you crossed the border from California into Arizona. You knew you were naïve to think you wouldn't come in contact with other humans on this journey. Well into your fourth state, you're actually surprised it hadn't happened sooner.

You look down at your hands, your nails and skin caked in dirt, and find them shaking, unable to suppress the excess, pent up despair beneath the surface. You cry in earnest, hugging your knees to your chest and resting your forehead against your arms.

You think about your family, your mom and sister, and know they've succumbed to the same fate as the woman back in the house. Before the cell towers lost service, you were able to call home and learned your sister had fallen sick earlier that week, and given the fatality of the disease, would probably be dead within a few days. Your mom had chosen to stay with her, comfort her and ease her passing before passing herself.