Band of Preppers: A Prepper Fiction Novel (Book 1) Page 2

  Chapter 2

  Derek was filling out inventory forms and humming along to the radio when Katie, one of the cashiers, came in. Derek looked up, slightly embarrassed to be caught singing.

  “Morning, Katie.”

  “Mr. Evers, is it ok if I leave a little early today? I’m supposed to babysit my sister’s kid while she’s at a job interview.”

  Derek swiveled in his chair and looked at the schedule board.

  “How early do you have to leave?”

  “Like a half hour?”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Ok, thanks so much!”

  Katie walked out, leaving the office door cracked open. She was a good kid. She’d just finished her junior year at the high school and was a hard worker. All the customers loved her. Derek went back to his forms. The news had just come on the radio. Derek only half-listened until something caught his attention.

  “In national news this morning, a man who was showing signs of serious illness was stopped at an airport in Mexico attempting to board a plane to New York City. He was taken to the hospital where he was diagnosed with what appears to be a strain of smallpox or measles. The CDC has not yet made an official comment, but is expected to later today.”

  Derek felt his heart drop into his gut. He turned up the radio, but the news had moved on to another story. Derek took his laptop from his messenger bag and browsed the major news sites. He expected the story to be the headline, but articles about the economy, ISIS, and soft news dominated his screen. He scrolled down and finally found a blurb about it on CNN. There wasn’t much else there, except that he had no family so there was no one who could explain how he’d gotten sick. There was a picture though of him at the hospital. He didn’t look like he had smallpox, or at least what Derek imagined smallpox looking like. Derek scrolled to the forum section and was met by the usual angry commenter, the racist commenter, and someone who tried to reason with everybody. One person asked the question that had been bothering Derek. Why wasn’t it making a bigger splash. The replies weren’t especially helpful, with one commenter insisting it was the government trying to cover it all up because they had released the virus themselves, and another saying the story was probably a hoax and the guy wasn’t really sick at all. Derek thought about what Amy had said about smallpox the night before, about how it spread. If it was smallpox or something like it, it would mean that a lot of people in the airport might be infected and wouldn’t even know it. Derek googled the phrase, “smallpox incubation period.”

  7-17 days. That’s a big range.

  Derek read on and saw that early symptoms looked like just about any disease, mainly headaches, fatigue, and fever. The rash, which is how smallpox was most easily recognized by, appeared a couple days later. Derek started feeling a little better after his initial scare, but at the same time, somehow worse. The guy at the airport didn’t have any spots, so he could just have a fever or some other bad disease, but the fact that the news story had said smallpox or measles at all meant that there was a good chance that was what the illness really was. He could have just not gotten his spots yet. How would doctors know it was smallpox without spots? Derek wanted to call Amy and ask, but she was busy and Derek didn’t want her to think he was losing his mind. Instead, he turned his attention back to the screen. Derek did more searching on the Internet and found some information on different kinds of smallpox, one of which didn’t cause spots. This version caused a lot of internal bleeding, which made the skin dark. Derek started to worry again. He unconsciously started feeling itchy and scratched his arms.

  “Get a grip, man,” he whispered to himself. “You’re being an idiot.”

  Derek shut his laptop and stuffed it back into his bag. He had to focus on work and get his mind off of the horror stories playing on in his head. He quickly finished his inventory forms and tidied up his desk. Being around people would help. Derek went out to the floor and roamed around the aisles, making mental notes about products and counting customers to keep busy. One of the cashiers needed help with his machine, so Derek fixed the problem and talked to a customer for a while. When she left with her bags, Derek glanced at his watch. Twenty minutes had passed. Derek groaned inwardly. It was going to be a long day.

  At lunch, Derek bought a root beer and sat with two other employees in the break room. Most of the employees were young, in high school or college, except Matt, who was a little older than Derek and worked in the stockroom. Derek unpeeled the saran wrap from his sandwich and carefully removed the tomato slices Amy always added. Derek had said he could make his own lunch in the morning, but Amy was so much in the habit she just walked through the motions without thinking or remembering that Derek didn’t eat tomatoes anymore. He had had a bad experience with a spaghetti dinner and the doctor recommended he stop eating tomato or tomato sauce. Katie sat across from Derek and absentmindedly chewed on a baby carrot.

  “Anything interesting happen to you last night?” she asked, not looking at anyone in particular.

  “My brother got arrested,” one of the cashiers chimed.

  “For real?” Katie asked, turning her body towards the speaker.

  Brett was Katie’s age and convinced he was going to be a rockstar. He wore his hair long, but kept it nice enough to not have to cut it for work. He looked ecstatic that Katie was paying attention to him.

  “Yeah! He was spray-painting the side of a church.”

  “Oh my God!” Katie exclaimed. “What church?”

  “The old Baptist one. That like only old people go to.”

  Katie laughed. “Did you bail him out?”

  “Hell, no! I let him spend the night. Gotta teach that punk some lessons the hard way.”

  “Aw.”

  “He’s fine. He’s thirteen. My mom was so pissed though.”

  Hmm, Derek thought. Thirteen. Only two years older than Adam.

  “What about you, Mr. Evers? Do anything fun last night?” Katie turned away from Brett to Derek, her brown eyes wide.

  “My brother is in town.”

  “Is he the prepper guy?” Brett asked, flipping his hair out of his face.

  “Yeah, but how do you know about that?”

  “When he visits, he always comes in and talks to us about it. You didn’t know? He likes the water container things the store has.”

  Derek laughed. “No, I didn’t know that. Missed it somehow.”

  “He’s a cool dude,” Brett continued. “He always explains why he’s buying the stuff he does. Like how we shouldn’t store water in milk jugs because eventually the plastic thins out and can break.”

  “Are you a prepper, Brett?” Katie asked, in a half-joking tone.

  “Kinda wish I was, but my mom wouldn’t get into it, and it’d be weird to just do it myself. Gotta think about the zombie apocalypse though.”

  The conversation shifted to zombies and zombie movies. Derek finished his sandwich and went to the stockroom, where Matt was leaning against a large stack of boxes marked “Cereal.” When he saw Derek, he automatically straightened.

  “Relax, man,” Derek assured him, waving.

  Matt slumped back into a leaning position and lifted his hat to scratch his head. Derek made his rounds in the stockroom and returned to Matt.

  “All good? No friends?” Matt asked.

  “Friends” was what they all called rats. Katie had stumbled upon a dead rat once late at night and brought it out to Derek by the tail. They scoured the stockroom and set traps, but no other rats showed up, dead or alive.

  “Nope,” Derek replied.

  He stretched, tired from his lunch, and touched his toes a few times to get the blood flowing.

  “Brother is in town,” Derek remarked.

  “What’s his name again?”

  “Randy, but we all call him Buckle.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Cause of his belt buckles.”

  “Yep. Wore ‘em since he was a kid.”

  “How’s he doing?”

  �
�Good!”

  Talking about Buckle to the kids and Matt made Derek think about prepping again, which made him think about the story on the radio. His chest started to tighten again.

  “Hey,” Derek said, lightly swatting Matt on the arm. “You hear anything about that guy in Mexico? The guy who got sick?”

  “Nah,” Matt replied.

  “Sounds kinda serious.”

  “What you do you mean?”

  Derek thought quickly about what words to use. He didn’t want to sound like a lunatic, whispering about long-eradicated diseases in a stockroom.

  “You know anything about smallpox?”

  “Chicken pox?”

  “Smallpox. It’s like the crazy deadly version of chicken pox.”

  “Shit. Did the guy have it?”

  “I don’t know. But crazy, right? I guess it looks like smallpox or something? The news isn’t really covering it.”

  Matt scoffed, removing his hat again. He rubbed his graying hair with the other hand, showering himself with a light cloud of dandruff.

  “Media just wants to control the population and not tell us anything really useful. If it is serious, they won’t say anything, and if it’s just a hoax, they’ll try to scare the shit out of everyone. It’s all mind control, man.”

  Matt made a move suggesting he might spit to punctuate his point, but he thought better of it. Derek now felt more convinced that he couldn’t depend on the news to let him know if something was real or not. He went through the rest of the day with a million thoughts buzzing through his brain like wasps. When quitting time came, Derek bought two large cases of water bottles and one of the jumbo toilet papers. He drove home feeling smart and informed, the knot in his chest gradually untying itself. He pulled up into the driveway and saw Buckle, Adam, and Roadie playing Frisbee in the front yard. Roadie would run between them, snapping at the Frisbee. It always seemed just out of his reach, much to the dog’s frustration. Adam waved at Derek.

  “Hi, Dad!”

  “Wanna help me carry some stuff in?” Derek called.

  Adam ran over and wrapped his arms around the toilet paper. His hands did not meet in the back and, finding the position awkward, Adam opted for balancing it on his head with his hands as support. Buckle came over as well and took one of the cases under his arm. He was wearing a trucker cap and short-sleeved flannel shirt that was dark with sweat around the collar.

  “Sale?” he asked.

  “Nope. Heard something on the radio you’d find interesting. A guy in Mexico tried to get on a flight and it turns out he might have smallpox or something crazy.”

  Buckle’s blue eyes widened as he made a sort of scoffing sound.

  “Really?”

  “For real. He’s in the hospital. The CDC is supposed to say something.”

  Buckle grabbed the other case and, both cases under his arms, jogged into the house. Derek followed with Roadie at his heels. Buckle set the cases down in the kitchen and went right to the TV. He jabbed at a few buttons before tossing the remote to Derek with an impatient murmur. Derek turned to one of the 24/7 news channels. Adam emerged from his room at the sound of the television and leaned his elbows against the back of the couch.

  “Is your mother home yet?” Derek asked his son.

  “She’s asleep,” Adam replied.

  Thankful, Derek turned his attention back to the TV. It was some panel show talking about something uninteresting, but it was the crawl at the bottom of the screen that Derek was interested in.

  Blah blah. Somebody famous arrested. Some politician is a dumbass.

  “There!’ Buckle shouted, pointing. “Can you pause this thing?”

  “No, it’s live TV,” Derek answered.

  “Did you see it?”

  “What did it say?”

  “The guy is dead. CDC says it isn’t smallpox.”

  A wave of relief washed over Derek. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Buckle was still agitated. Derek frowned at him.

  “What? Isn’t that good?”

  “Hmm,” Buckle murmured.

  “What’s going on?” Adam interjected, eager to be included.

  “Some guy in Mexico went to the hospital and CNN said it was smallpox, but now they’re saying it wasn’t.”

  “But he’s dead,” Adam offered.

  “People die of different things all the time.”

  Derek was starting to feel like his old self and a bit foolish for having let fear take over. He set the remote down, the news still on. His mind was already wandering to dinner.

  “But it looked like smallpox?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Derek replied, noticing that his tone was a little impatient.

  Adam looked at Buckle for reassurance. Buckle was still watching the TV screen and chewing on his lower lip.

  “Hey, Adam, can I borrow your computer?” Buckle asked suddenly, turning to the boy.

  “Yeah, sure!” Adam hurried away and returned with the laptop.

  “Thanks.”

  Buckle took it and sat on the couch, Adam looking over his shoulder. Derek chose to ignore them and went into the kitchen. He looked at the cases of water and toilet paper on the kitchen table. It looked pitifully small. Like two cases of water would keep the family alive for longer than a week or so. If that. Roadie had to drink, too. Then there was cooking and washing. Derek poked a hole in the plastic wrap with his thumb. It made a sharp pop, like a tiny gunshot.

  Well, looks like we’re safe from the zombie apocalypse for a little while at least.

  As if on cue, Buckle called to Derek to come into the living room. After first wrangling a water bottle from the case, Derek reentered.

  “What’s up?”

  “Pulled up some other sources here. A bunch of people are freaking out that they haven’t told people what the disease is, if it isn’t smallpox. If it looks like smallpox, it could be airborne, too. Everyone in the airport could be at risk, and the CDC isn’t really doing anything about it.”

  “Well, if it was that serious, wouldn’t they be doing something?”

  “They might not know what they’re doing, Derek.”

  Buckle looked back to the screen. Adam frowned from behind him, his eyes intense. Derek cleared his throat.

  “I’m going to wake your mom up. Ready to help with dinner when she’s ready?”

  “Not now,” Adam retorted impatiently. “I’m reading this.”

  “Watch the tone,” Derek warned. “When I get back, you’re helping.”

  Adam didn’t reply. Derek walked to the bedroom, shaking his head. Amy was already awake, but still lying in bed. She faced the door, hugging her pillow. She smiled sleepily when she saw Derek.

  “Hey there, my handsome man.”

  Derek crawled across the bed and nuzzled her neck. She made a squawking noise and pretended to fight him away. Derek knew it tickled her.

  “When did you get home?” she asked.

  Derek lay on his side next to her and picked a strand of hair from her face.

  “Not long ago.”

  “Hungry?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Spaghetti sound good?”

  “Sounds amazing.”

  Amy stretched, elongating her arms like a cat. She was still wearing her scrubs, blue ones this time.

  “Argh,” she said, over-pronouncing the phrase like she always did. “Long day.”

  Derek watched as she changed her clothes. His eyes were always drawn to the silvery scar she had on her thigh where her drunk dad had attacked her with a pair of scissors. Seeing the scar used to always make Derek feel sick and angry, but Amy said it helped remind her of all she’d been through. Knowing that it didn’t bother Amy made Derek feel better.

  “Did the boys come inside?” Amy asked, buttoning her jeans.

  “Yeah. They’re on the computer looking at some blogs or something.”

  “Prepper stuff?”

  “Sort of. There’s a story on CNN about a guy in Mexico who they
thought had smallpox. He was trying to get on a plane.”

  “Oh my God!” Amy stared at Derek as if she couldn’t believe what he just said. “Seriously?”

  “They said it wasn’t smallpox,” Derek said quickly. “He died though.”

  “Geez.”

  “Buckle is overreacting, as usual. I’m afraid he’s getting Adam into it, I’ll have to talk to him.”

  “Adam or Buckle?”

  “Both, I guess.”

  Amy re-tied her ponytail, pulling the hair back tight. She looked thoughtful. Derek rolled off the bed. His stomach gurgled. Spaghetti Carbonara sounded perfect.

  “I’d keep an eye on this story, though,” Amy said. “I’ll see if anyone at the hospital has heard of it. People don’t just put “smallpox” out there without reason.”

  “You really think it could be a big deal?”

  The knot started tightening again in his chest. If Amy was thinking this could be real, that meant it really could be real. Amy wasn’t easily convinced.

  “It’s from a legitimate source.”

  “True.”

  Derek and Amy left their bedroom. Roadie was in the hall, sensing it was about time for his dinner. He wagged his tail when he saw them. Adam and Buckle were both on the couch now. Buckle was writing something on a sheet of paper and speaking in a serious tone. Adam nodded along, equally serious.

  “What’s going on, guys?” Amy asked, trying to sound casual and unconcerned.

  “Uncle Buckle’s making me a list of emergency supplies for pandemics!” Adam exclaimed, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

  “Oh, ok,” Amy said, laughing. “How’s that going?”

  “It’s real simple, Ams,” Buckle said, putting on a teacher’s voice and turning the paper so she could see. “The best prep you can have for pandemic-type situations is prevention. This means keeping home base properly sanitized, disposing of trash and stuff the right way, and keeping healthy.”

  Derek went to the kitchen. All this prepper talk just made him more nervous. He saw the supplies he had gotten still on the table and hastily put them away. Out of sight, out of mind. Derek filled a pot with water and set it to boil on the stove. Roadie had followed him into the kitchen, now standing with his body pressed against Derek’s legs.