The Infection

“That’s not a good color,” Ethan agrees, squinting closely at the grainy image. “Philly and New York are shaded a really dark red. That can’t be good either. But eastern Ohio, outside the major cities, is yellow. Yellow’s better than red, right?”

The survivors shrug, but nobody objects either.

He adds, “If the chairman would move his ass out of the way, we could see what’s going on out west.”

“The chairman looks profoundly unhappy about the current state of affairs,” Todd says, his mouth full of candy.

“Washington, DC is shaded dark red,” Wendy says. “I wonder where the President is.”

“At Mount Weather in Virginia, most likely,” Sarge guesses. “The emergency bunker. Anybody in government who made it out of Washington when the screamers woke up, that’s where they’ll be now.”

“At least there’s still a government,” she tells him. “We’re still resisting. That’s something.”

Sarge nods. “Yeah, that’s something. We’re still in the game. I hope we’re winning it.”

The survivors pour fresh drinks, lean back on the couches, and watch until they grow bored.

“Is there anything else to watch?”

“When does Jon Stewart come on?”

They laugh.

“Thank you for coming to my important press conference,” Todd says in a nasal voice, watching the general talking on the TV screen and imagining aloud what the man is saying. “My strategic assessment is we’re all fucked. Any questions?”

♦

Before the end of the world, Todd wouldn’t be caught dead watching television, which he considered an opiate for the masses and a big waste of time besides. He grew up on the Internet. He would spend hours staring at his PC, flitting from one site to the next, engaging total strangers in obnoxious debates in message boards and chat rooms about weapons and tactics and rules in World of Warcraft and Warhammer 40,000, his favorite games. He called this nightly ritual “doing the time warp.” He would sit down at his computer screen after dinner and, after several hours that flew by as if only a few minutes, his mother would be nagging him to go to bed.

One night, seven months earlier, as he sat hunched over his keyboard dying to piss, his mother yelled his name from downstairs, which he dutifully ignored, as it was his policy to never answer his parents’ first call, only the second. Less than a minute later, she yelled again.

“WHAT?” he roared in a blind rage.

“Come down!”

“I’ll never finish this post,” Todd complained, sighing loudly.

He trudged downstairs and froze in his tracks. Sitting on his living room couch was April Preston, wearing jeans and a sweater and glasses.

April was a senior. April was popular. April was beautiful, even with her glasses on.

“Hey,” he said, recovering.

“Hi,” she said, smiling awkwardly.

“I thought you might want to say hello,” Todd’s mom said. “You go to the same school.”

“Different grades,” Todd said.

“Right,” April said.

“April’s car broke down,” his dad said. “We just called AAA.”

“Excellent,” Todd said, nodding.

“Do you want a Pepsi or something, April? Something to eat?”

“I’m all right. Thanks, Mrs. Paulsen.”

“Do you need to call your parents?”

“I already did, thanks. My dad’s coming to get me.”

Todd studied April while they talked, feeling nervous. While she personally had never done any harm to him, he considered her an enabler to those who had. She certainly hung out with them. Apparently, she found total jerks irresistibly attractive, because she also dated them. You’re abusive to people who are younger and weaker than you, and you play football? Wow, you’re so hot! Now she was in his house. Should he consider this an invasion? Even his home was violable, apparently. They could just walk right in. He pictured her telling everybody at school what a dorky house he had, what dorky parents. She would imitate them: I just called AAA. Want a Pepsi?

She did not look particularly threatening, however. In fact, she looked even more nervous than he was. He suddenly felt an overwhelming need to do something chivalrous. Maybe he could impress her and she would tell everybody how cool he actually was.

He realized his parents had left the room and April was staring at her hands in her lap.

“Must be great to be a senior,” he said.

She smiled again and nodded.

“Um. Are you going to college?”

“I’d like to go to college,” April said. “I’ll probably end up at Penn State. You?”

Todd blinked. “Me? I’m not sure yet. I mean, I’d like to go, I definitely will go, but I haven’t chosen a school yet. Graduation seems like an eternity to me.”

“Well, you’re smart. You’ll probably get your pick of schools.”