Reset

When he located her, Nora was crouched on a section of the floor she had cleaned.

“Done shopping?” Jason asked as he approached. “Bikes are ready.”

“Sorry, yeah. Almost done here.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m, making Skivvy rolls.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Skivvy rolls.” She tossed him what looked like a stuffed half, tube sock. “You wouldn’t believe what is in those.”

“It’s a sock.”

“A pair of socks, underwear, tee shirt. Each roll is different.”

“Impressive. How did you learn to do this?” he asked.

“My father and… eight years of service. Including two combat tours.”

“You served. You never mentioned it.”

“I didn’t…” Nora stood. “I didn’t remember until I walked in here. Saw the BCU’s and it all came back to me. I served then got married. Weird isn’t it? You would think I would remember that.”

“Makes you wonder what else we aren’t recalling.”

“Yeah. Most of my childhood is a blur.”

Jason blinked slowly. “So is mine.”

She handed him his sleeping roll. “We can take turns lugging this thing.” She placed the pack on her back.

“Bikes are over here.” Jason pointed, then walked ahead of her, and took one.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if we didn’t remember how to ride?”

“Yeah, real funny.” Jason said with little emotion as he pushed his bike toward the front of the store. “Nora, did you by chance look at any of the names on the other Genesis units?”

“Some. Not all. Why?”

“Are you sure you weren’t supposed to be there and just got put in the wrong unit.”

“Why do you say that?”

Jason shook his head. “You were at the Astoria, right? Have you ever been there before? I think you said the station put you there because everything was overbooked. What if that wasn’t the case? What is you were meant to be there.”

“For what purpose.”

“Maybe you’re more important than you remember. Not that you aren’t important and all. But I think you know what I mean.”

Nora didn’t respond because just as he finished saying that, she saw them.

“Nora.”

“Why didn’t I think of this?” She perched the bike against a bin and hurried to the checkout line. “Impulse shopping. Magazines. Tabloids.”

“Okay.”

“They come out weekly.” The front magazines were hard to decipher, worn and dirty. Nora reached to the back of the first bunch of tabloids and grabbed one. She flicked on her pen flashlight to see the date. “Odd. November. So this shut down before our experiment. Malcolm said that last date was… the fourteenth.” She moved behind the register and pulled out the trash bin. “Yep.” She lifted a receipt. “November tenth. Doesn’t look like anything unusual. So that tells me in that month everything…” she stopped talking when she noticed Jason stared in horror at a tabloid. “Jason?”

His hand shook as he extended the tabloid to her. He used his light so she could read it.

The ‘sensationalized’ gossip sheet called The Globe News had a picture of the first lady on the cover.

It read, “My husband is not dead!”

With the sub headliner: ‘Top scientist claims president was not killed in explosion. He is cryogenically frozen to survive impending Apocalypse.’

“Oh my God,” Nora flipped it open.

“Wanna take a bet on who that scientist is?”

Nora lifted her eyes. “Summer Rosewood.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah it is.” She rolled up the tabloid and looked, there were more. One was a dedicated edition to the explosion in New York. Nora grabbed that as well. In fact she grabbed several, so the others could read. And they would. The magazines were a source of information, sensationalized or not.

Loaded down, they hopped on the bikes and made their way across the parking lot and down the road.

The store, the magazine, like they had been, the world seemed frozen in time.

Unlike any books she read, documentaries or movies, nothing Nora had seen depicted a major event such as a plague or war. No remnants of panic shopping, looting or violence. Everything was just a dusty, overgrown normal until they hit the first main intersection of base.

They had to stop, literally they could go no farther. It was clear to Nora. There was no more second guessing.

Abandoned military trucks obstructed the intersection alongside the blockades. Signs marked ‘Quarantine Zone’ were everywhere. Buildings were taped off, some were covered in plastic. Biohazard symbols were plastered everywhere as frequently as cracks in the sidewalks.

Abandoned cars, doors open scattered across the street. Papers and debris blew about among spilled personal belongings.

At the barricade, there were bodies, or rather skeletal remains in tattered clothing. A huge dump truck was filled to the capacity with body bags.

The carnage, the desolation and desecration of the virus extended as far as the eye could see.

The hybrid virus intended to decrease population wreaked havoc, at least on base it did.

TWENTY-ONE – Oblique