Chapter 8: The Camp

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No one spoke for a long time after that. It had been half an hour since the incident and Jacob finally broke the silence.

“We could have at least taken the baby with us.” Jacob said. It broke them from their own musings and some turned to look at the boy.

“The baby couldn’t have been bad. We could have saved it.” No one said anything in response. They, too, understood the consequences of having turned away the couple. There was simply nothing to do at this point but to work through their regret.

“Can we help the next ones?” Jacob asked. John was silent for a while before answering.

“Yeah. We’ll definitely take the next ones.”

He realized that recently he had lost sight of himself in all the commotion. John and Jacob had always been raised by their parents to lend a hand to those in need, even when they themselves did not have much to give.

“It’s a given that humans want to help each other and look for the best in the ones next to them.” Their mother would always tell them as she dragged the sometimes unwilling sons to the local soup kitchen every saturday evening.

“But mom, what if they were there because they had done something bad? What if it’s life giving them what they deserve?” The young Jacob had once asked.

His mom frowned and sternly rebuked him, “We will have none of that talk in our household, young man. Regardless of whether he’s the president or a lowly thief, if he asks for a helping hand, it’s our duty as human beings to help him. The moment we don’t is the moment we’ll be no better than the worst of them.”

Remembering what his mom said to Jacob and what his father said to him, John reaffirmed his resolve. Even if the world comes crashing and everyone gets crushed under the weight of it all, he would still be there to pick up the pieces and look for survivors.

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As they drove longer, the sun started to set, basking the evening sky in a dark red orange hue. Jacob and the others had been lulled to sleep once more by the humming of the engine and the rocking of the road.

Other than stopping once at a lone self-service gas station to refill their tanks and loot the snack bars and beef jerky left in the convenience store adjacent to it, using the police officer’s credit card to pay for the gas, they had made few stops.

As they went over another hill, they saw spotlights shining up into the sky. Fences had been set up along a perimeter of almost a square mile with patrol cars roaming the inside of the fence, looking for any straggling infected that may be trying to gain entry into the compound. Inside, army tents painted in camouflage patterns dotted the hills while smaller tents and a deluge of cars were parked about inside as people could be seen settling down in groups for the night. Bonfires lit the various corners of the small makeshift city.

“Guys, we’re here.” John woke up the others. Seeing order and civilization again, they all secretly let out sighs of relief.

Before they went into the camp, they hid their guns in a compartment in the floor. John hid his katana in a golf bag and hid it along with the guns.

As they approached the compound and joined the line of cars, a group of soldiers walked up to the driver’s side window. Tapping on the window, an officer looking young man stood there with a clipboard and a flashlight.

John rolled down the window and squinted into the blinding light of the flashlight.

“Good evening.” He tried to say amicably.

“Sir, I’ll have to ask all occupants to step out of the vehicle with your hands above your heads.” Slowly obeying, the five quickly got out of the car and stood in a single file line. The officer motioned two others to search them, seeing if they were bitten. A medical officer went up to each one of them and using some kind of scanner, did a retinal scan of their eye.

“Clean.” He would say after each one of them.

“They’re clean on our end as well, sir.” One of the officers doing the body search would say.

“Alright, I’d like your name, age, and date of birth.” He said as he wrote down each of their information.

“Stealing, fighting, killing, vandalism, and general disorderly conduct will result in your immediate confinement and/or termination by security personnel stationed throughout the compound so I want you all to follow whatever laws you did out there as you do in here, and then some. You can drive your car into whatever spot is open.” The officer explained in a drab, practiced manner, showing how many times he had said the same lines to the countless people that came before.

“ Lunch and dinner are at 1400 and 1800 respectively each day. If you notice any movements in the fences or anyone acting in a manner that may even hint at them being sick, report it. If anyone gets bit or hurt, report it. And if anyone tries to break any of the rules said before, report it. Do you understand? ” He enunciated each word of the last sentence as if he was a drill sergeant and they were the unlucky cadets assigned for basic training.

“We got it...sir” Sam said hesitantly.

“Alright, well you have a fine evening now. NEXT!” The officer said in such a pleasant, informal tone that the change left all of their heads reeling after tensing up for so long.

As they were about to get back in their car, they noticed that a majority of their supplies had been taken from their car.

“Hey! Where’s our stuff?!” John yelled at the officer.

“Your stuff? This is a time of crisis and you’re worrying about what belongs to who? All the supplies are needed to keep this facility operational to protect the civilians. By withholding any supplies, you are jeopardizing the lives of everyone in this compound. Under executive order, we have been authorized complete and comprehensive seizure of all private assets that may be conducive for the operation and containment of the virus. Now if that is all, you can have a fine evening, sir.”

“But-” John tried to objected but the officer sent him a glare so cold, it left the words caught in his throat.

“I said….have a fine evening.” The officer said politely but it somehow left him with a sense of dread. He went back to the others who were currently looking through what remained of their belongings.

“Don’t steal, my ass. They’re the real thieves around here.” David said frustrated as he threw out some empty boxes.

“They took all the food and water down to the last candy bar.” David kicked a box laying on the ground.

John got in the back and looked through their stuff. Indeed, there was barely anything left for them to salvage. A couple hand-pump flashlights, his golf bag, clothes, gas siphon, water purifier, and matches were left. He didn’t check the secret compartment as he was afraid the officers might see.

With a sigh, he hopped out of the back and shook his head.

They got in the car and drove into the compound. As they drove past tents, they could see it was packed with people, so many in fact that legs were poking out of the entrance. It was still summer and the cars and tents were the only places for shade around there.

They found an empty parking spot and stopped the car. As they got out, they saw many people were eyeing the car and what might be inside.

David whispered to John, “I’ll stay behind and watch the car, you go look for your parents.” John gave a nod of appreciation to David and decided to head out.

John walked around for what seemed like hours. Everywhere he looked, he saw regular people huddled together in fear and shock as they tried to hold onto whatever shred of their previous reality they could. Some were on their cellphones, trying in vain to get a signal while others were talking and chatting about what was going on and how crazy it was going to seem after it all passed, seemingly not being able to recognize their world crumbling around them. Or perhaps they had, and were too distraught to face the reality, desperately clinging onto the world as they had known it.

It reminded John of the cartoon short where the man would be reading his newspaper in his house, unaware that the four walls of his home had collapsed, leaving him sitting on his couch wide in the open.

As he continued to walk, he saw children playing football or tag, weaving in and out of the cars as they chased each other around in circles, their parents long ago having given up on trying to contain their restless children.

Others simply stared off into nowhere, sometimes accompanied by a bottle of beer or a cup of coffee. Others still simply looked in awe at the smoke rising from the city, as if they were simply there for sightseeing.

It almost disgusted John how out of touch all these people seemed from what horrors were happening outside.

“John?” A weak, female voice sounded out from behind him. He turned around and looked at the person who had called him.

“Oh thank God, it’s really you.” Before he could react, his mother had thrown herself on John, bringing him into a tight embrace. She was crying tears of joy as she continuously thanked God for bring her son back to her. He hugged her back and took in the familiar scent of lilacs he had come to associate with his mother.

After a minute of this, she slowly recovered and backed away to look at his face, a joyous smile plastered on hers.

“Jacob? And your father? Are they with you?” She asked, a hint of worry and a frown touching her forehead.

“Jacob’s with me. We went home and found the letter. Has dad still not come back?” He asked. His heart skipped a beat when he realized his dad had not come with his mother. Where could he have gone? What could have happened to him? Is he still alive?

There were too many uncertainties to start rejoicing.

They made their way back to the car. David and Jacob were waiting there. Jacob, upon seeing his mom, jumped up in joy and ran to her embrace.

John walked up to David and asked, “Where’s Sophia and Sam? I’m not seeing them.”

“Sophia said she’s going to explore the compound, look for more information on what’s been going on. Sam is...” David paused and looked over towards Sam who was standing apart from them, looking out the fence towards the city.

John walked up beside him and didn’t say a word. He just looked at the city with Sam. They stayed like this for a while, looking out at the setting sun, streaked by the rising smoke.

“What are we doing, John.?” Sam asked.

John looked over at him.

“I mean. We killed people. Ended their lives when we could have been saving them. How are we going to live with this?” Sam asked. His eyes were red and his hand tightly clenched the metal fence.

“We did what we had to. They were monst-”

“But they weren’t, John! They were sick people.” Sam said. He gave a long, defeated sigh. “They needed help, but instead we put bullets in their heads.”

John didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say.

“What if-what if this is just a passing thing? What if in a couple days they come out with a cure or, or-or the people get back their senses? What will we do then?” Sam asked. “Will we go back to school? With the blood of our classmates on our hands?”

“You didn’t kill anyone, Sam. This is on me.” John tried to comfort him.

“No. This is on all of us. I would say we’re going to hell but it looks like we’re already there.” Sam pushed off the fence. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he walked off to the other side of the compound.

John just looked after him, not moving from his spot. He frustratedly kicked the fence, punching it and pulling it.

Exhausted, he stopped and stepped back, looking up at the setting sun.

He felt a stinging so he looked down at his hand to see it had scraped and was bloodied by hitting the fence.

“ssss” He hissed as he clenched and unclenched his fist.

Turning around, he made his way to the car.

He returned back to David, who had been leaning against the car. He pretended to be busy, but John knew that David had been listening to their conversation.

David gave John a knowing and sympathetic look and stared off behind John.

John turned around to see what David was looking at.

At that moment, Sophia could be seen running back to them.

“Hey. Did you hear anything?” David asked her.

She shook her head and caught her breath. “Nothing conclusive. Some people are saying it slipped through the security cracks at the airport, others saying it came up from the borders, and still more saying it was a bioterrorist attack. No one is saying the same thing and no one has any evidence to back their claims. It’s pure speculation at this point.”

John frowned. “Have the military said anything? I’m sure they should be aware of the situation and informing the citizens?”

“No such luck. In fact, they haven’t said anything related to the orders from upstairs. Some heard rumors that they’d lost contact hours ago and are just maintaining their position for now.”

“Yeah, the military doesn’t give two shits about the survivors. I’ve looked around and they’re basically treating us like cattle. Less, in fact, these people look like they haven’t eaten or drank anything in hours.”

The others looked around and they saw everyone around them had tired, sunken eyes and there was no energy in them at all. John could see a little boy darting off with a can of beans from the requisition pile only to be stopped by a guard who ripped the can from his hands and threw the boy across the ground, skidding to a stop in front of his parents.

These types of scenes could be found all around the camp.

A group of missionaries in an orange van were passing out blankets and water bottles but that was it in terms of aid.

They stayed there for the night, huddled together in the SUV as the cold of the night seeped in and rain started drenching the camp.

John’s mom brought her stuff into the car to prevent the rain from ruining it. Mostly family pictures and official documents, she hadn’t thought of bringing any heavy duty equipment so they were able to fit it all into one or two boxes.

Sam didn’t return that night.