Lockdown – Day Fifteen (continued again)
Hi Everyone! We are nearing the end of John and Sarah’s story. Coincidentally, we are also nearing the end of New Zealand’s Level 4 Lockdown. Tomorrow will be the final part of their story. I hope you’re continuing to enjoy. I’ve got some ideas about including this in a volume of short stories centred around a similar theme, what do you think?
[image error]Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com
DAY FIFTEEN (continued again)
John
Viney doesn’t seem too sure of what happens next. I’m really tempted to drive on and damn him, but it isn’t worth the risk. I turn off the engine while we wait for him to do whatever he is doing. He appears to be talking to someone on a radio. Just the existence of such a communication implies that maybe civilisation is clinging on out here in the back of beyond.
It feels like forever before he comes back.
“Can you prove you’re a doctor?” he asks Rebecca.
I can’t quite believe she carries it with her, let alone on a lanyard around her neck, but Rebecca pulls out a hospital ID and shows him. He indicates that she should throw it to him, catching it with ease. He peruses it and takes it so he can radio it in. We can’t help but sit and watch him. When he comes back, he tosses Rebecca her ID back and says, “Move ahead, when you reach Paeroa you’ll be processed. Welcome back to civilisation, such as it is.”
I ignite the engine once again and we drive on. None of us can quite believe what has just happened. Civilisation? Really? What does that mean? A military state? We can’t decide if this is good or bad but the shock of it dominates everything.
Sarah
I feel more sad for Cliff and the lady in the café now that there is the promise of an actual community not far from them. There might be people like me, my age. Maybe schools? Maybe more than just surviving individually.
As we enter Paeroa, we have a brief opportunity to admire the large bottle of L&P which stands proudly along the main road. I can’t stand the stuff, I think it tastes like detergent. Someone, again armed, pulls us over and tells us to stop. She is wearing a full yellow hazmat suit and seems to be expecting us.
“Come with me,” she says, taking us into a large white tent. I think she is a well-built lady under her suit, from her visible features she may be of Maori descent.
She hands us over to someone else in a suit who starts to test us in every way they can think of, taking samples of blood, spit, temperature and more. They ask us loads of questions about our life history that feels far more invasive than anything Facebook used to hold. We are told to return to our vehicle while results are processed.
I feed the chickens and the horses while we wait. I wish they could have a walk around for a bit but I think that might be frowned upon. I’m not sure how we’d get them back in again either.
Sitting in the car seems a good time to read some of the books we took from the library. I think John seems to need this the most so I give him something about fishing. I find his manuscript while I’m looking in the bags and decide to read that. I’m sat behind him so he doesn’t notice. Part of me is surprised he brought it with him but then perhaps this is his small way of clinging to what he knows.
Hours pass. The light is beginning to fade. I’ve been glued to John’s book so I haven’t really noticed. I wish I had a red pen because there are so many spelling errors in here that it’s embarrassing. When I tell him I’ve read it I imagine he will ask if it is any good so I had best think of a constructive answer.
I’m starting to doze when there is a rap on the passenger window.
John
Rebecca winds her window down, “Yes?”
“We need you to come with us,” a stern male voice replies. It sounds English in origin, not unusual in New Zealand but still a little surprising. Some English accents have a way of sounding authoritative even when they’re not.
“What about us?” I ask.
“You can continue on.”
“Where are you wanting to take me?” Rebecca rightly enquires.
The figure, again clad in yellow, switches on a torch and illuminates himself, looking ghostly.
“Two things. First, you’re a doctor and we need doctors, in fact you would be one of only two left alive that we know of. Second, you’re carrying the virus.”
“What?” I ask before Rebecca can get a word in. We all share a look of horror.
He raises his arms in a placating gesture, “It appears dormant and you haven’t passed it to your friends but we need to use you and your skills to help us search for a cure just in case this thing kick-starts again. We’ll be taking you to a nearby central facility where we can run research on you and with you. Please come with us.”
In the shadows, I can see Rebecca is torn between telling them to go to hell and in going along with it. This might be a new purpose for her after the death of her parents. It could be just what she needs. Or she might make a run for it. I have no idea what to expect.
She takes a deep breath and pauses in silence for a little while as she processes this news. Finally, she says to us, “Wow. I wasn’t expecting any of that. I think I have to go.”
I’m not going to lie, this makes me sad. I can see Sarah looking more so in the mirror. She is visibly upset.
“Don’t go,” she murmurs.
Rebecca reaches gets outside and opens Sarah’s door, Sarah gets out and they embrace, “Sorry kiddo, but you’ll be OK. John needs you, he’s incompetent at best. Even worse that he doesn’t seem to know it yet.”
She laughs a little and Sarah smiles.
“I’m sure I’ll see you again, just save enough petrol to come back and visit. Bye, John.”
While we don’t have a love for each other, we do have respect, so the parting is easier for men than Sarah. She walks away in much the same way as she came, with the element of surprise. She takes her gear with her and is gone.
I join Sarah in the backseat for a bit, knowing that we’ll be sleeping in here soon. I spot that she has been reading my book. I can’t wait to hear her appraisal.
