aftermath

SOMEONE almost puked blood on Devon.

He managed to jerk backwards in time, holding their Blizzard above his head, staring wide-eyed at them. The person was on the ground a second later, fucking convulsing as their blood-spit-puke started to dry on the counter, and Devon swallowed. He was pretty sure they didn't want that Blizzard anymore.

He put down the cup, stepped backwards as calmly as he could, and said, "I'll be back," to the couple standing in line waiting. Then Devon turned around and darted through the doorway into the back room. Where he promptly started to hyperventilate.

Devon wasn't one for panic attacks. They'd gotten lucky and avoided the two-for-one special of ADHD and anxiety. But this was too much.

Martine, the manager, stared at him from her place over the vats of ice cream, looking caught off-guard. "What-" she started, then took a deep breath. "What the hell, Devon?"

They sank to the floor against the door, pulling their knees to their chest and their arms over their face, shaking their head. "It's that virus, I think," they mumbled. "People are sick out there, and I'm- I'm not leaving this room. Nope. Can't make me." He kept shaking his head, feeling his hair move across his forehead and shoulders. The sensation was somewhat calming.

Martine put down the ice cream scoop she'd been holding and walked over to Devon. "Can you at least move a little so I can figure out what's going on?" she asked. She was a pretty good boss, some part of Devon's brain that was clinging to normalcy said. She respected their pronouns even though she didn't really get it, and was cool with letting Devon do whatever he needed in order to keep himself calm, which was normally just stimming a little.

So Devon shuffled out of the way, huddling against the cabinet where they kept extra cups and spoons instead of the door. They tugged on a little bunch of hair hanging past their ear; the sensation wasn't their favorite, but the light pulling at their scalp grounded them even more.

Martine tugged the door open, and both she and Devon flinched at the sheer noise echoing from the other side. Martine stared for a moment, eyes wide and jaw slack, and then turned back to Devon. "I see what you mean," she said. Her voice was more gentle now, softer. Devon nodded before crossing his arms on top of his knees and burying his face in the space created between them. The sound was a little more muffled that way.

"Stay here," Martine said. "It's probably safer." She was quiet for a moment, in which all Devon could hear was the slightly-muffled screams, and then said. "Maybe call someone? I'll come back for you, okay?" Devon hummed, not looking up at her, and waited until the door closed again.

Then he lifted his head and dug his phone out of his back pocket. His sister should be out of class by now.

Jaime answered the phone with a casual, "Hey, Dev," that honestly did wonders to lower Devon's blood pressure. "Aren't you supposed to be working?"

They laughed a little, but it sounded so for to their own ears that they knew Jaime would pick up on it. "I was," he said, cringing as something thumped into the other side of the door. "But uh, it's kind of going to shit here right now."

"You work at a mall Dairy Queen," Jaime said, "how much 'to shit' can things even go there?"

"You'd be surprised, trust me," they let out a shaky sigh. "Hey Jaime? Be safe for me, okay?"

She laughed, in that way she did when she thought Devon was being a little ridiculous, but she loved him anyway. "Yeah, of course I will. You know me."

He did know her. Jaime was always the cautious sibling, the one that no one had to worry about. Not like Devon, always getting distracted and needing to be brought back to earth. So, he smiled, though it was little and fell away as soon as he heard someone shouting for help outside. But it had been there.

A smile had been there. He didn't know when one would be again.

—

VENUS might have blacked out. She wasn't sure. All she knew was that she cried, and hid herself in the corner of a shoe store, pulling a rack in front of her with all her strength. She forgot, after that, and only came back to herself when the noises of pain and dying grew quieter.

She was trembling. Her nails had dug bloody holes into the flesh of her arms where she'd been gripping them, and her legs, pulled up to her chest, ached with stiffness. Her face was wet.

She pried her right hand away from her arm, wincing as cool air hit the little puncture wounds there, and wiped at her face, sniffling. She could do this. She stretched out her legs, rubbing her knees with her other hand, and, still shaking, slowly picked herself up.

The air was still. Even if Venus held her breath and stood as still as she could, clinging to the rack for balance, she couldn't hear anything besides a distant crying. It sounded like a kid. God, she hoped that kid wasn't totally alone. Besides that, she heard nothing. That... probably meant it was over. The sick were dead, or dying. The thought made bile rise into her throat, but Venus forced it down. She'd be fine. And she had to find that crying kid—she couldn't leave them alone.

So, once her legs started to cooperate, Venus made her way out of the shoe store. The bodies sprawled across the floor gave her pause, but she averted her eyes and followed the crying.

—

JUNIPER didn't notice anything wrong when it all started. He was reading, and when he was reading, he tended to not notice the rest of the world. He did start paying attention, though, when a guy in the next aisle over started actively dying. He found it pretty hard to ignore that.

How he was all right, Juniper didn't know. But when it calmed down, he'd taken the book—no one was there to stop him, and he got the odd feeling that money wouldn't be a concern any longer—and left the Barnes & Noble. Chances were good someone else was still alive.

He was right. In the food court outside the bookstore, he saw a woman a bit older than himself dressed in a very long, very bright skirt helping an older lady to her feet. It looked like the food court had been the site of a stampede or something, judging by the amount of bodies near the door leading out of the mall. June grimaced.

The younger woman said something to the older, then brushed her hair out of her eyes and looked around. Her face was grim, and, Juniper thought, sad? She was frowning at least, that often meant sadness. She brightened, though, when she caught sight of Juniper. She raised a hand and waved. "Hi!" she called. "You're okay, right?"

Slowly, awkwardly, Juniper nodded and started to walk towards her. "Yes," he said. "And you? Not sick?" He signed as he spoke, though he was pretty certain this woman wasn't hard of hearing.

"Yeah, we're both okay," she said, her voice loud and bright. June didn't think she thought he was hard of hearing, though. She gave off the impression that she was always like that. "A little bruised, but that's okay, right Juliana?"

She turned to the older woman, Juliana,  again with her last few words, who smiled at her. It seemed they knew each other well. "Yes dear, not too bad. What's your name, young man?"

Juniper rocked from one foot to the other. "Juniper," he said. "Juniper Keen." It unsettled him a little, how evenly the old woman looked at him. He didn't meet her gaze, focusing instead on the air just above her shoulder. He could see a Dairy Queen menu behind her.

"Nice to meet you, Juniper," chirped the younger woman. "I'm Eden, but you can call me Edie." When Juniper glanced at her, he saw she was holding out a hand, as if to shake. He didn't reach out in return. Hopefully she wouldn't take offense. Everyone around them was dead due to disease, after all; even though they seemed to be immune somehow, Juniper didn't want to take chances.

"It's nice to meet you too," he mumbled. "I guess we're stuck together now, aren't we?"

"Yep!" Edie beamed. Internally, Juniper groaned. She was going to be too much for him, he could already tell.

—

THE sound of voices led Jairo to the food court. Angel clung to his hand, covering her eyes with her other hand. He couldn't blame her—it was a gruesome sight, all those bodies. Jairo didn't want to see them either, but he had to look. How else could he get them out of there?

He saw, when he approached the food court, just who was making the noise. Four people—two women and two men, were carefully, gently, picking up the bodies with plastic-gloved hands and moving them outside. An older woman walked around with a spray bottle and a rag, wiping down tables and chairs.

Jairo stopped short, squeezing Angel's hand. This, to be frank, wasn't what he'd expected. Other people, yeah, but... not this exactly. Angel pulled her hand slightly away from her face, peering up at him. "What's going on?" she asked.

He glanced down. "It's okay," he told her. "You can look."

As he spoke, one of the women, a brunette in jeans and a cardigan, turned away from the door and saw them. A smile spread across her face. "Hey, more people!" she called. "Come on, we're trying to clean up a little." She cast a look at the remaining bodies—rueful, maybe, if Jairo had to guess. If he could understand the expressions of a stranger.

He took a careful few steps forward, Angel following. "Hi," he said. "Name's Jairo. I'm happy to help."

—

THE bathroom was cold. Carolyn had expected that, sort of, but she didn't expect to be shivering.

Though maybe that was fear, rather than the cold.

She'd run as soon as she figured out what was going on out there, picking up Theo and running to find somewhere, anywhere, to hide. Luckily, the family bathroom had been unoccupied, allowing them the perfect hiding place. Theo was confused, of course he was, and Carolyn didn't know how to explain it to him—how do you tell a four-year-old that everyone around him is getting sick and dying the fastest you've ever seen? Carolyn just held him, rocking him in her arms until he fell asleep.

She wasn't sure anymore how long it'd been. Hours, at least. She sat sprawled on the floor, Theo in her arms, and her phone was her back pocket—she couldn't reach it without moving Theo, and he took naps so rarely now that she didn't want to wake him. Carolyn ran a hand over Theo's curly brown hair, stoking it off his face. He was, like most four-year-olds, only calm when he was sleeping. Carolyn, on the other hand, was not calm at all.

Her heart pounded still, even a few hours later, no matter how many deep breaths Carolyn tried to take. She had lived through the pandemic, she remembered it well. That was nothing compared to what she'd just witnessed. People hadn't dropped dead right in front of her back then. Today, she had already lost track of how many deaths she'd seen.

Carolyn jumped at the sound of footsteps outside—she hadn't heard anyone outside in some time now, how long she didn't know. She'd honestly begun to think that only she and Theo were left. Evidently, this was incorrect, as she heard voices outside, men's voices. She couldn't hear what they said. She held Theo closer as the voices drew near.

The footsteps stopped outside the bathroom door, and the handle jiggled. Carolyn had locked the door, so it did not open, but she watched the handle move. A man's voice came through the door, clearly now: "Is anyone in there? It's okay. We're safe." The voice was low, but not threatening; he sounded kind.

Carolyn remained frozen for a few moments, before shifting forward a little, careful to hold Theo as still as possible in her arms. "You're not sick?"

"No," came the answer. "None of us are sick, I promise."

Carolyn took a breath, and closed her eyes for a moment. She breathed, slowly, matching her breaths to Theo's sleeping ones. When she opened her eyes, she moved again. "Okay," she said. "We're coming out."

She reached for the door.

—

2262 words.
Ayyyyy another chapter!! Sorry not everyone is included, but the others will show up next time! I also apologize for the long break; as some of you know, I moved on April 1 and ended up taking an impromptu hiatus to get everything sorted irl!
Let me know your thoughts!
💛mags