We are doomed

CHAPTER 3

Mike woke up on the sofa freezing. His whole body felt numb and stiff like a corpse. He yawned as he opened his eyes, heavy as lead. The light was coming through the curtains and woke him up. He sat down, he had a headache and the feeling of a bad dream that isn't quite over yet. He looked at his feet, red and cold, then stood up and went to the kitchen to heat up some chocolate milk. His parents were asleep still. The kid looked at the cup rolling inside the microwave. He touched his neck, the marks were still there, but now instead of strong red lines all that was left were diluted pink traces. The microwave stopped and Mike took the cup out carefully.

— You are up early — Mike jumped in surprise almost dropping his milk, he turned around to see his mom —. What do I owe this miracle to?

— I was cold

— Did you sleep on the sofa? — Mike nodded —. You are going to get sick.

— I know, I fell asleep. 

Helen sighed — You should go put some socks on and cover up those red feet of yours. 

Mike left the cup on the counter and went to his room upstairs. He opened the drawers and found nothing but papers, he started to toss them out, his socks were supposed to be there, why did his mom changed them? He kept grabbing papers and throwing them out. He cut his hand, his finger started bleeding. The blood kept coming out, like a flood, dripping down his hand and onto his elbow.  Eyes watering the kid started to walk out of the room, leaving behind him a trail of blood drops. 

Mike woke up on his bed, his mom was passing her hand through his head while whispering words about waking up. He looked at her with discontent, tired still. It was all a weird dream. The kid sat down on the bed and looked at his feet, they were his normal pale skin tone. 

— Are you feeling better, hon? — Mike made a gesture, he didn't know what his mom was referring to —. You had nightmares all night.

— I'm... I had a weird dream, I was cold. 

— Mhm — Helen put the back of her hand on his forehead —. You have fever... 

— Can I stay in bed then?

— Yes, you should stay warm. 

Mike covered up again and went back to sleep, hoping his fever wouldn't mess with his head anymore. The kid slept for an extra hour, then a sweet smell woke him up. His mother had brought him breakfast to bed. 

— How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?

— Just my head, but im ok.

Mike stayed in bed for the rest of the day. His eyes closed and he continued to dream and wake up in an almost never ending cycle of nightmares and fever-caused dreams. His head felt dizzy and disoriented every time he woke up. The next morning his whole body started to ache, and as days went by Helen realized he was getting sicker. 

— Maybe we should take him to the hospital

— Have you not seen the news? The hospital isn't safe. It is filled with those crazy sick people, what if another one attacks Mike?

— Then let's at least call Dr. Stuart 

— Ok, I'll call him — Helen went to her room and dialed the phone number. The doctor's voice resonated deep and serious on the other side of the line. He had known Mike since the day he was born, so every time they needed extra help, they called him. The man asked Helen how was she holding up with everything going on in the world. She just sighed, he laughed. The doctor then wondered if he should be concerned, why was she calling him  —. Mike has been a bit sick for a few days, I'm not sure of what to do, I gave him medicine and he is in bed, but he is getting worse. I don't want to have to take him to the hospital, that place scares me. 

— It scares me too... — Stuart accommodate himself on the sofa, worried to ask, but ready —. What are his symptoms? 

— He has fever, headache, he is really tired, poor boy hasn't stop sleeping. He said his body felt heavy and dizzy, and yesterday he said his whole body ache, as if he had been running for too long. 

The man kept silence. He didn't want to admit it to himself. She probably knew anyway — Has he been near anyone that has... the virus?

— What are you insinuating? Do you think he might get crazy?

— Im not saying that, but Im not discarding it either, its the most common diagnose these days... Was he close to...

— He was — she interrupted and then quickly continued —. But he is acting normal, he is fine. 

— It might just be a cold — he felt as if he was lying —. Just be wary of any signs of the virus, it starts like a simple flu, and then it gets worse... 

— What signs? — Helen contained her tears, avoiding the thought that her little kid might be condemned to die. 

— Memory loss, confusion, vomit, angst, foggy vision... — he stopped to think —. If he shows any drastic change on emotions that might be the most clear sign. 

— Thank you, doctor 

— My pleasure — he made a pause, choosing his next words very carefully —. And don't worry, we are just being smart. 

.     .     . 

George was driving, the car advanced silently into the city streets, Grace was looking at them through the window, watching them past fast like oils diluting in a canvas. Helen was sitting in the back with Fred. She wasn't sure of a new beginning without their son. Without Mike. But she had to be strong, so she grabbed her husband's hand  tightly and, too scared to say they were going to be fine, she murmured — We are alive.