Dr. Mendoza tended to me first before the others arrived. She told me that if the bullet had gone an inch to the right, it would have shattered my femur, ripped a nerve, or hit a major artery. I wouldn't be able to walk for a whole month if that happened, and then I had to do weeks of physical therapy, which were all bad news seeing how this pandemic could extend for another couple of months (I was wrong. It was far, far longer than that).

The doctor swiftly took my vitals, pulled out my IV since I could now eat my own food, and drink my liquids, though I had to start with soft, mushy meals (gross). They also let me choose what kind of wheelchair I wanted, but when they saw me walking and balancing fine with my other uninjured leg, they've decided to start me off with crutches to limit the weight pressure from the injured side.

A nursing assistant named Sandra then came into the room and asked me if I needed help taking a shower. Apparently, my smell had gotten worse, and there was so little a bed bath could do to a person. I literally needed a full shower after days without one. Sandra worded it kindly for me, but the message was clear: Shower or else you'll stink like a skunk for weeks, and your friends won't be in the same room as you longer than a minute. At least that's how I took it.

I accepted her help, even if it meant getting naked in front of a stranger. Sandra wrapped my wounded leg in plastic so that it wouldn't get wet, and she wheeled me to the bathroom in a shower chair. I ignored the worried looks on her face. Apparently, I had acquired many scars and scabs the past few weeks, some of them inflicted by the vectors. All I could say was that the steaming water was satisfying, cascading against my skin and hair, taking the grime, oil, and grease off my body. I stayed there for what seemed like forty-five minutes. It was very therapeutic, and by the end of it, my hair smelled of blue cedar mint and my body of ocean breeze per what was said on the bottle.

Sandra also cleaned up the three-week-old knife wounds on my hand and shoulder with new bandages, which almost completed their healing, new skin over the wound. She had also trimmed my fingernails and toenails. She helped me brush my teeth, cut some of my hair that had gotten a little longer, slathered my body in vanilla-scented lotion, and placed hot compress on my bruises...overall made me feel like the cleanest and relaxed person in the entire city.

"Here. Take this." I gave five ration tickets to her, the ones that Clemons had left on my nightstand.

Sandra looked at me, wide-eyed. "No. I can't take this. This is from the general—"

"I'll be fine. He'll give me another one. Do you have a family?"

Sandra nodded. "Four kids."

I smiled. I extended my hand with the ration tickets further. "It's yours. That will last a week?"

Sandra nodded again, though, still afraid to touch it.

"I promise I won't tell anyone," I said.

Then Sandra profusely thanked me after, and a few minutes later, she gave me three cups of chocolate pudding instead of one during my lunch. I didn't complain, and I ate all three in just five minutes. I hadn't had sugar for a long time, so this was a treat! Compared to the rest of the hospital foods, it was far better.

Later that afternoon, everyone came to my hospital room. They looked far different than the last time I remembered them, all showered, cleaned, and fed. Both Miguel and Logan had cut his hair shorter to a cropped buzz (which grew unkempt for almost a month without care). Aria was the most different; she had cut it back to her pixie-cut. Steve had shaved his white beard, opting for a clean-shaven look like his son. I was stunned to see Henry wearing a Captain America shirt, all bright and colorful in red, white, and blue, and had a Transformers toy nestled in his hand, almost forgetting that he was still a kid.

The world I am now made that easy to forget.

Everyone's clothes were now washed and ironed with what seemed to be a Downey's fresh scent detergent, no longer smelling like oil, sweat, and heat. I swore that Luke had even put on cologne and got a whiff of citrus, wood, and sage when he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me into a hug. I was glad I took that shower now.

"You showered. You smell like peppermint," Luke said to me. "I like it."

"Can't have me smelling like a toilet with you all cleaned up, right?" I tried not to blush. Even then, my experience with compliments from men was very limited, and so I had no idea how to take it. Showing my reddening cheeks was embarrassing, so I tried looking away.

Luke grinned. "It's not a competition, Bren."

"Hey, I'm in a competitive spirit. I was in the shower for forty-five minutes, you know."

"I was in it for an hour."

I narrowed my gaze. "Right. Not a competition."

I didn't notice any signs of new injuries besides the purplish bruise on Logan's right cheek. I realized it must be from the fight when he got "detained" by Clemons. Everyone huddled around my bed: they poked at my bandaged wound, asking if it still hurt (It freaking did); Aria and Yousef thought if I could ask the nurses for more pudding (I got two more from Sandra); Luke and Logan dramatically explained how they fought off six armed soldiers before they got taken down; Margot and Felipe brought some good news for a change.

"We're leaving for France in a few days," said Felipe. "The French ambassador is still in DC, flying out EU nationals back to their home countries. We are already tested, and we don't have the sickness. Your uncle has already put us on the list."

"Well, isn't that a good thing?" I asked.

Both Felipe and Margot frowned, hesitating.

It was Luke who cut the silence. "Paris is gone, Bren. A city-wide evacuation was called out yesterday. It was all over the news, the rest of the world is—"

Yousef elbowed Luke under the ribcage and gave him a steely gaze. Luke shut his mouth.

"He's right. We are going to fly to Limoges," said Felipe. "My family lives in southern France. Other EU nationals are staying here in the city, and in a few days, we'll get picked up by a helicopter and get transported to DC. A plane will be waiting for us there."

I didn't understand at first why Felipe and Margot looked glum about the news. They get to go home and be reunited with their families, and I remembered feeling a little jealous that they got to do it before us, but then I realized where Margot lived. Rouen was a city a shy of fifty-miles north from Paris, just downriver of the Seine. I remembered how the majority of Margot's family lived around the town, and she even had a few cousins and aunts who resided inside Paris.

They were worried, but they didn't say anything more about the matter. I made a note to talk to them about it later.

I also learned that our names and photos were automatically entered into the Survivors Database by the Crisis Response Agency (CRA) because we were now proper residents of the Albany Safe Zone. It was a sub-branch of FEMA (Federal Emergency Management Agency), which led to the outbreak's entire response. The database was dedicated to sift through the growing refugees in the safe zones and reunite them with the families outside the Red Zones. It acted as a colossal, digital, missing person bulletin board to the entire country, now also used by Canada and Mexico.

My face was there now, and my parents had probably seen it. I would have an ALIVE status right at the bottom of my face, and I could only imagine what they must feel. But then, I thought about the dead.

In a few days, I would go home to my own family. For the dead, their families couldn't even bury their bodies.

Everyone began to explore my room, remarking how big and roomy it was than the others in the hall (Yousef thought it was because of Clemons) and bigger than the bedrooms in the apartment we were all going to stay downtown. I had a feeling Clemons deliberately chose it, and I surmised he probably lived somewhere nearby.

"They took all our stuff," Logan mumbled. "The guns, too. Bastards."

"And our food," Miguel said. "Which forces me to wait in ration lines. Cinco de Mayo is tomorrow, and I can't even cook us a feast! That would have been wonderful with the supplies we used to have."

"Bummer. I was so looking forward to your tostada," said Aria.

"Yeah, that might take a little while longer now."

I pulled out Betty from underneath my pillow. "He gave me another one. Meet Betty."

"Betty?"

I rolled my eyes. "A soldier's pet."

Logan took Betty from my grip, feeling the weight and the sight. Then, he gave it back to me. "So, you're the only one who can carry that?"

I shook my head. "I'm not supposed to carry it publicly, so don't tell anyone."

Logan winked at me and threw a thumbs up. "Oh, gotcha."

It was then I noticed that Tessa was in the same room. She told me everything that had happened the past two days, how enraged Captain Ramos was after our encounter in the State Capitol, and had apparently taken his anger on two of the girls, smashing half of everything in the apartment. One of the girls had split her hand on the glass, so Tessa had accompanied her to the Med. There, she met the others (who were being taken for the new arrivals' mandatory health checks) and was reunited with her brother and grandfather. They were fortunate to find a CRA worker to transfer her out of the apartment to live with the rest of her family. All I could say was that Ramos was not pleased the next day. She had a bruise on her wrist, an imprint of a hand that had grabbed her there, and I realized right away who it belonged to. Tessa didn't explain how she got away, or that she left most of everything in the apartment—She refused to go back, and fortunately, the CRA worker couldn't force her to stay.

"We filed a complaint," Steve said. I could see the bubbling anger behind the shadow of his gaze.

Gabe scoffed. "There's little it would do. They kind of need all the hands they could get guarding the city, and I doubt they'd let a trained soldier go."

Gabe had a point, even if it was the wrong thing to do. Clemons was close to telling me the same thing this morning, and Ramos might only get a suspension for a few days, maybe had his ration tickets reduced, pound him with extra duties, or put him through heavy grunt work. But in reality, he'd only get a stern word and a slap on the wrist.

You can't fix a problem when everyone around you is also doing it.

"Don't worry about him now. You're with us," I said.

Yousef frowned and pointed at my leg. "Dude...he shot you. He might do it again."

"He's gonna be trouble," Luke said.

"I know," I heaved a sigh. "But I'm going to make him work hard for it."

And he would. I had more scars to prove it.

I suddenly realized what I was going to say to them. "Oh! Before I forget, my uncle will give me a satellite phone by tomorrow," I told everyone. "We'll get to contact all our families anywhere in the world, so you all better come visit me. I get first dibs, but then, you can talk how long you all want with your folks."

It was like a switch had been lifted, and everyone's eyes softened, their tensed shoulders dropped. Even Margot managed to let out a small smile.

"Are you serious?" Logan asked as if he didn't believe me.

"Cross my heart." I did a little cross on my left chest. "Clemons didn't say anything about sharing it, but I'm making an executive decision. I'm not going to talk to my folks for twenty-four hours straight, so I might share and divide that time with the rest of you. It's the least I could do."

"Well, I'll wake up early tomorrow then," Logan said, and everyone started chatting to themselves excitedly.

I glanced at Felipe and Margot, whispering at the corner, Felipe drawing her to a hug, and she was almost on the verge of tears. It was then I decided that I would give them the satellite phone first when it got here.

Even with the internet working, there were still various messenger apps and calls that were automatically blocked, especially calls that came from the Red Zone, and some keywords you couldn't access on the search engines. All the news came from TV, and even their information had been tampered with. Despite the limited info, people still took what news they could get from the outside.

It kept everyone sane, fed the masses with honeyed bullshit, enough to restrain their fears and dread, kept them in line from rioting, made them think that their plight was shared across the world. That they were not alone.

You know what they say: misery loves company, and from that, camaraderie blossoms. Sure, people might think it was the end of the world, but we had been told that same thing for the past decade, with the Mayans, the 2008 economic collapse, swine flu, SARS, H1N1, and Covid-19, and yet here we stayed, here we stood.

No one thought this could be any different, and maybe we had been accustomed to the preaching of doom and gloom of brimstones and hellfire, or whatever scares that would come up every year on Twitter. We were a species of apex predators that ruled over a planet, made our own predators fear us instead. We had science on our side, had the economy in our grasp, carved our territories, made the immaterial possible, our dreams a reality, and fed most of the world's corners.

The world was too big to end, no way it would end, and seven-point-eight billion humans wouldn't let that happen without a fight. Me sitting on that hospital bed surrounded by my friends, hell, I thought nothing could touch me, that in a few days, the things I had seen would only exist in my subconscious.

All I could say was that we put up a good fight.

You could still download and play games on your phone, though, for what little good did me.

——

A 2021 transcript between Millenium Scout Command to CRA scouts,

21 miles SW of Albany, NY.

No Survivors.

T-00:00:02

(CRA-Bravo)

Millenium, this is Bravo team.

We need air support now.

Sending location, over.

(Static)

(Millenium Command)

Uh, repeat that, Bravo team.

This is Bravo team.

We're taking heavy casualties.

(Gunfire)

Captain Poulin is dead.

What the hell is going on down there?

Report.

Multiple anomalies.

We need a goddamn evac.

Sending our location now.

T-00:01:05

That's a negative, Bravo team.

The mission is still a go.

The hell with the mission, command. We're

dying out here. Alpha and Echo are wiped.

Half of my men are dead. Get a chopper

here now.

T-00:01:59

Status of Pied Piper, Bravo?

Negative. All dead.

All the infected heading to I-87.

I don't know why, but they just up and

turned around. We can't control them.

Can you repeat that? Did you say all?

All.

(Static) Copy that. Status of anomalies?

(Static) Fucking everywhere, man! They're

Coming out of every goddamn (gunfire) building!

Can you still guide them away from

the city?

Negative. We've tried, but they're no longer

falling for our diversion.

Roger. Can you move to higher ground?

We're pinned down next to the freeway.

(Static) There's too many of them.

Where are they heading now?

We think north. They're heading directly

to the (static) city.Status on our air support?

Popeye rolling in. Stay at your exact

location.

Copy.

Bravo, did you say north?

Yes. Lockdown the entire city.

They're all f—king coming.

Popeye is incoming in T-minus 4 minutes.

Alert has been sent out.

Copy. Red flares out.

T-00:06:39

(Popeye)

Bravo team, this is Popeye. I see the flares.

How's everything looking?

Eh, beat up, but we're holding.

Gotcha. Heads up of for the punch of 2 or 3

rockets in the area. I'm clearing a path.

Roger that. Go ahead.

Will take cover.

T-00:07:15

Bravo, this is Popeye. I can't find an LZ.

You boys need to move up higher. I see, a

hardware store a quarter-mile north of your

location. The roof's adequate. We'll provide

cover fire.

We can't do that. These sons of

bitches got us surrounded.

We're running out of ammo.

Roger that.

(Static)

Can you head up the freeway?

I see an overpass.

We see it.

(Gunfire)

Bravo, can you make it to the LZ?

Going around there now.

Um, we can make it.

Okay. Rendevous on new LZ.

(Static)

Uh, Bravo? There's something coming

from your nine.

What's that?

—Coming out of those fences. I think those

are children, maybe five or six. You see them?

(Static)

I—shit. We found survivors!

Bravo team, I suggest you follow protocol.

Stay out.

But they're children!

We can help them out.

I repeat, stay out, bravo team. I'm on my way

to the LZ. Rendevous on the spot, over.

(Static)

(Millenium)

Popeye, this is Millenium. What's your status?

(Bravo)

We hear crying, man. There's a bunch of

children here. I see one as young as five.

Change rendezvous to our location.

(Popeye)

Negative, Bravo team. Do not approach.

I think they' re—holy shit!

(Millenium)

Status report.

(Popeye)

Bravo team is down! Bravo team is down!

My God!

Can anyone fucking give me a status report?

All dead. Fuck. All dead. There's, uh,

infected children down there.

Killed all of them.

Casualties?

They're, wait, shit, they're climbing up

the overpass. Gotta get out.

Return to base, Popeye. Abandon LZ.

(Static)

Popeye? Bravo team? Anyone there?

(Static)

Oh my god-! (Static)

Shoot them! Shoot them all!

Get that kid--

(feed dies)

Popeye. Can you hear me? Is anyone there?

Over.

-line ends-

Recorded 22:43. May 4th, 2021

*Pied Piper Missions are diverting hordes away from populated, urban areas.

It has a 58% success rate.

——

I awoke with a start from a strange dream. Men screaming, everything burning...then nothing. A bad dream, and I was thankful for the hospital room's heater to warm my body back to awareness. Only a dream, I thought, can't hurt me.

A light rain had started to fall, floodlights' haze from the military camps reflecting through the windows, casting ink-blots from raindrops against the walls. Gone were my friends' excited chatter, only the darkness and the staccato pour against the windowpane, the pitter, the patter, and the drumming. I didn't mind the calming white noise. I was safe behind the walls, surrounded by hundreds of soldiers in the Med district, my uncle to protect me, and no monsters to get me. I was back in my hospital bed, safe and sound.