Induction

A group of soldiers encircled us and I heard the ominous clicking sound of multiple rounds being chambered. I looked up in panic to find Jake fighting his way through the crowd that had quickly converged on us. It only took a few seconds to realize this girl wasn’t a threat. I stroked her unwashed, greasy hair, and patted her back like a baby. She reeked of body odor, but since I probably did too, I didn’t have a right to complain about the offending smell. The girl’s hysteria dissolved into hushed sobs as I comforted her. She raised her head and her eyes met mine. I took in a sharp breath and hesitantly began brushing the strands of dirty hair out of her face.

“Meg?” I whispered the name, convinced if I said it too loud, she would disappear. She nodded in affirmation and I wrapped my arms around her and cried tears of joy. “Oh, Meg. I didn’t think we would see you again. Jake,” I called, my constricted throat causing the word to get swallowed. Meg looked up to find Jake, perplexed, looking down at us. When he realized the girl in my arms was his little sister, he dropped down and engulfed both of us in an embrace. We stayed like that for minutes, not talking, and just held each other, weeping at the blessed reunion.

The crown began to dissipate when they realized there was no danger. When we separated and stood, I saw several onlookers overwhelmed with emotion by our good fortune. My heart went out to them as they silently wept for the reunions they might never experience.

Jake lifted Meg up in a bear hug and twirled her around. The joy he radiated was contagious and the three of us laughed. Reality flooded back into him and he put her down and turned in a circle. My heart sank as I realized what he was looking for. He looked at Meg, a questioning expression on his face, and Meg’s features scrunched up as she shook her head slowly. Jake stared into the empty transport, still half expecting to see his parents step out. When he looked back at us, I could see how much the loss of his parents had broken him. He held his head high and embraced his sister again, this time without joy, but grief.

We knew Meg had been home visiting for the weekend. She had turned twenty-one that week and wanted to live it up with her hometown friends. After graduating with a Bachelor’s Degree in Psychology, she moved to Orlando to continue on for her Master’s Degree at UCF. As we walked toward Target with the rest of the refugees, she told us what had become of their parents, Anne and Alfie.

* * *

The morning the world went to hell, Jake’s dad was outside securing the house for the coming storm. Meg and her mother had been in the kitchen cooking. Hurricanes and power outages were old hat to them, and they had the system down to a science. Anne would make sure all the perishables in the fridge were eaten first, cut up some fruit salad, pull the deli meat to the front of the fridge, etc. Then she would cook up the staple of the storm: eggs and potatoes. Potatoes sautéed until tender and eggs poured over them were cooked until the dish formed an omelet-like consistency. We usually waited out big storms at their house, but fear of what we saw on the news forced us to remain home. We would pass the time without electricity with board games and poker. Jake’s family was the close, typically matriarchal Italian family you would expect. While his dad, Alfie, thought he ruled the roost, everyone knew it was really Jake’s mom who wore the pants. Of course, no one told Alfie. We didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

Meg recalled the fateful day with eyes glazed over, drawn back to the events that haunted her. Their neighbor, Joe, had exhibited the first signs of infection on their quiet street. Alfie was boarding up the kitchen window, making funny faces to Meg and her mother, when Joe stumbled into their line of sight and lunged at him. The movement plunged them forward into the window and the girls had a front row seat to the gruesome scene.

Joe leaned into the crevice of Alfie’s neck much like a sensual kiss, and bit down. As he pulled away, muscles and cartilage tore free, leaving a gaping wound that painted the window with arterial spray. Alfie, still pinned to the window, made futile attempts to pull free as the last of his life spurted out of the wound and his mouth opened and shut like a fish on land gaping for water. He slid down and out of their view just as Joe leaned in to take another bite.