Portland
December 14

Isabella had watched the end of the world on television. She should have gone into work--her clients needed her. But her family needed her more. And so she had stayed, watching their health deteriorate, their bodies weaken.

She glanced down at her sleeping husband and son, their red hair like fire on the white pillowcase, and cried silent tears. The rest of the world was dying off. No wait, had already died off. The television went black a few nights ago, but the horrors on the screen before it did let Izzy know she should be worried about the two loves of her life. She didn't want to believe that they were going to die, but with each cough, each shuddering breath they took, she knew deep in her heart that they were.

With a shaking sob, she lay beside her son and wrapped her arm over her husband, needing to feel them close.

Her husband's eyes fluttered open. "Hi," Ed murmured, caressing her cheek, the bright tattoos on his arm in stark contrast to the clean white of their apartment. He frowned when his fingers found her tears. "No, baby. Don't cry," his voice rasped.

Izzy just shook her head. She couldn't even form words, she was fighting so hard not to break out into full-on sobs. Ugly crying, she and her friends had called it. That awful crying where your face contorts and you sort of wail as you cry. She could feel that sort of sobbing on the horizon, but she didn't want to scare Woody, her seven-year-old son, sleeping between them.

Izzy never used to be much of a crier, really. She had always been tough, strong, driven. That's how she rose to the top, how she stayed at the top. Top of her class in high school, top of her class at Stanford--both undergrad and law school. All she wanted back then, before Ed, was to be the best corporate attorney in the country. To be rich. Not so much because she was greedy, but because she never wanted to struggle like her family had when she was little, rationing out their rice and beans like an episode of "Survivor," rarely eating meat and vegetables. She just never wanted to know that hunger again. And she was well on her way to becoming that hotshot lawyer of her aspirations, interning at one of the largest corporate law firms on the west coast. Everything was right on schedule. Everything was as she planned it. Except none of it really made her happy.

But then she met Ed. And everything changed. God, she could remember so clearly the first time she saw him up on that little stage in that little bar. He was just a bit chubby, his red hair a frizzy halo around his head, his tenor voice raspy and raw. And she was sprung, spun, done. Izzy was never the same again. Ed was so free, so easy, so happy. He made her so happy. Influenced by his carefree hippie hipster ways, Izzy let go of her schedules and plans. She realized that she would prefer to use her education, her intelligence to make the world more equitable rather than get rich, so she changed her focus to civil rights. But as was always her nature, she rose to the top. She was now one of the best civil rights attorneys in the nation. But that didn't matter anymore. All that mattered anymore was her son, her husband, her loves. And now, instead of tough and strong and driven, she felt so weak, so fragile, so lost.

"We're gonna be fine," Ed assured, smiling sweetly. His smile faded as he began to cough. He held up one finger to show he had more to say, but Izzy was terrified as his his small frame convulsed violently. At five foot eight, he was shorter than Izzy, who was nearly six feet without shoes. For their wedding, eleven years ago this month, he had worn lifts to make himself taller and still had to tip his head back to kiss her. Their anniversary was in just over two weeks. Would he even be there to see it? She closed her eyes as the tears started to pour from her eyes again.

"Dammit," she muttered, burying her face in Woody's hair.

"Mommy," her little man rolled over and clung to her, his tiny hands grabbing at her shirt.

"Hello, my love," Izzy soothed, rubbing his back gently. "How are you feeling?"

"Awful," he wheezed.

"As I was saying," Ed interrupted, smiling again, "we are gonna be just fine. Right as rain." Right as rain. Ed had grown up in the drizzly Portland rain. Maybe that was right to him. But for Izzy, who had grown up in the warm haze of the Los Angeles basin, the constant damp air here sometimes made her feel like she couldn't breathe. Sometimes, she almost missed the California sunshine. But Ed and Woody shined bright enough for her. "Yeah, we're gonna be fine. Aren't we, Woodrow?"

Woody looked up at his father with total adoration, and Izzy wanted to cry all the more. He was a perfect little copy of Ed, his bright blue eyes, his unruly red hair, his patches of freckles. Izzy barely saw herself in him--maybe only in his long wiry limbs, like an insect. Grasshopper, they had called Izzy in elementary school, thanks to the gross green uniform they had to wear. Woody had those same knobbly, wobbly long arms and legs.

Izzy filled her lungs with damp air and tried to believe Ed. Maybe they would be all right. "Yes, little bird, you're going to be just fine," she murmured, pressing a kiss to Woody's hair.

But he squirmed and pushed against her, "no," he whined. "I'm not a little bird!"

"You are," Izzy insisted, pulling him back to her. "You're my little bird, Woody Woodpecker." Izzy glanced at Ed, who was watching her with a tiny smile, her favorite of all his expressions. It was like the smile was entirely in his eyes, like what he was looking at, like Izzy, was the source of his smile.

"I love you, Iz."

Her face contorted with fresh tears, and she shook her head, not to deny him, but because she just couldn't bear the thought of losing him. Of losing them. Of going back to the time before Ed. Before Woody. After, she realized. It will be the time after Ed. After Woody. And as hard as she tried, she couldn't hold back the ugly crying anymore, her body shaking with sobs as theirs shook with coughs.

"Oh, love, no," Ed kissed her tear-streaked cheeks gently, his large hand cupping her head. "It's just a little flu."

"It isn't," she whimpered. "Ed, you didn't see..." Her voice trailed off, recalling the terrifying image of body bags lined up outside of Portland General on the local news. That was just two days ago, but it felt like a lifetime. Like a different life. A different world.

"Isabella," Ed put on his teacher voice, snapping her from her spiraling misery. "We are going to be fine." Izzy knew this tone. He was telling her what Woody needed to hear, even if it wasn't the truth.

"I think we should head south, Ed." Izzy said, finally finding her grit. "Get back to Carlos. Maybe he can help you guys." Her little brother was in his last year of residency in San Francisco. Yeah, he was an orthopedic surgeon. Not exactly the guy you go to for a flu. But he was still a doctor.

Ed shrugged, another round of coughs stealing his breath. "I'll do whatever you want, Iz." He had no family, so her family was his family. Carlos was his brother, too. "I trust you," he sighed, resting his head back on the pillow next to Woody and closing his eyes. Woody had already fallen back to sleep, his little ribs lifting unsteadily as he wheezed and snuffled in his slumber. Izzy pushed herself out of the bed and threw an assortment of clothes into a duffel bag, just essentials. Then she loaded all of their canned and dry food into the crate they used for recycling and carried it out to her dark blue Vue. She was still pissed that Saturn had gone out of business. After graduating from Stanford, she had purchased the little SUV with the grant money that accompanied her selection as a Turner Scholar, an honor given to four seniors each year for their diligent studies as an undergrad and for continuing in a Stanford graduate program. It was meant to pay some of the tuition. But she had a fellowship that covered everything, so...she bought a car. Thirteen years and counting...she swore she wouldn't get a new car until this one died.

When she came back inside, Ed and Woody were still sleeping, twined together. Izzy brushed their fiery hair from their faces to wake them. "Come on, loves, we need to go." She scooped Woody into her arms and carried him, while Ed shuffled slowly to his feet. So that she could open the car door, Izzy shifted her son's limp weight in her arms, and she paused for a moment, holding her breath. Please, no. Please don't let him be gone.

But he sighed, a raspy wheezing sigh, and snuggled onto her shoulder. She held him tighter, resting her head against his.

"Iz? We got everything?"

"Yeah. Go on, get in," she said, laying Woody on the back seat. Izzy covered him with a soft fleece blanket then climbed into the driver's seat. Ed had reclined his seat and was already dozing again.

The drive was tough. Not just because of the cars cramming the roads, but also because of the silence. Izzy found herself watching Woody in the rear view mirror as much as the road, listening for Ed's breaths instead of breathing herself. As she reached the southern end of the Portland metro area, which took her three hours, Woody suddenly popped up, rubbing his eyes.

"Mommy?"

Izzy nearly crashed. "Hey, little bird." She looked at him in the mirror as she steadied her hands on the wheel. His little face scrunched up in annoyance. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay. I'm hungry."

Izzy laughed. She laughed for the first time in two weeks. "Okay, Woods. I'll pull over and get you something."

"I want a hamburger," he said, staring out the window as if he were looking for fast food.

"No, love, it'll be something we've got here in the car." The road was blocked by cars up ahead, so Izzy decided just to pull over there.

As the car slowed to a stop, Ed sat up, coughing roughly. "Where are we?"

"Wilsonville," she climbed out and went to the back of the car. Their food options were limited. Dry cereal. Crackers. Cans of soup. She chose the cereal. "Here we go," Izzy scooted in beside her son. He made a face. She shook the box of Honey Nut Ohs at him. "Sorry, my love, our options are limited."

"Isabella," Ed called, his voice filled with alarm, "where is everyone."

He looked frantically out the front and side windows, then back at Izzy, his eyes wide with fear. Izzy was sure her expression matched his. He was so pale. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really," he shook his head. Izzy frowned. He hadn't eaten in days. "Iz, where is everyone?"

She glanced at Woody, happily digging his hand into the box of cereal and chomping mouthfuls of the sweet treat. "Most of the people who got sick..." How could she say this? How could she tell him? "Most of them didn't make it."

Confusion furrowed his face for a moment until understanding dawned, and his face stretched wide with surprise and alarm. "But...how? Why?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. I'm just glad you're still here," she reached her hand forward and touched his cheek. "Are you sure you aren't hungry? You haven't eaten in so long..." He shrugged. "Will you try to eat? For me?"

"Okay," he coughed again, his whole body wrenched forward with the spasms.

Izzy got out and went around to the back of the car again. As she was opening a box of saltine crackers, she heard the clomp of heavy boots, and then a voice.

"Hey!" Izzy turned toward the voice warily. A girl trudged towards them, waving her arms. She carried a large backpack and wore baggy torn jeans, an oversized sweatshirt, fingerless gloves, a scarf, and a beanie. The girl looked like she could have been homeless. Or just the usual Portland hipster. "Hey! Hi! I didn't think anyone else was still alive."

For some reason, a reason even she couldn't identify, Izzy felt on edge. "Yeah," she stretched the word out, squinting her distrust.

The girl threw her hands up, as if in surrender. "Hey, it's cool. I'm not trying to get anything from you. I just," she took a step back, and Izzy looked at her more carefully. She was young. A teenager, a young teenager. "I just haven't seen anyone else for days."

"Hi," Ed put one hand on Izzy's back and extended the other one. "I'm Ed. This is Izzy." Izzy whipped her head around in disbelief. What the hell was he doing?

"You're sick?" Ed nodded, smiling softly. He was too nice. "Oh, sorry, I'm Emma." She smiled too.

When Emma smiled, she didn't seem quite as dangerous. She didn't really seem dangerous at all, Izzy knew, but her guard was up. And she knew why. Because Ed and Woody were her everything. Her whole world. And in this new world, anyone else was a potential threat. Izzy had watched as two obese women fought over jugs of water at the grocery store on the news just a few days ago, their hair matted and bloodied from their rampage. She didn't trust anyone, other than her own family.

"You should ride with us," Ed offered, coughing and wheezing as he did.

Emma and Izzy answered at the same time:

Okay! Really?
What? No!

Izzy pulled Ed to the side. "Edmund Garibaldi Sheeran, what the hell are you doing?"

"Iz, we can't just leave her here."

"Don't Iz me," Izzy snapped. "And yes, we sure the hell can."

"Well, then don't Garibaldi me. Come on, Izzy. She's harmless. A kid, like my students. Like your clients."

Izzy turned at the sound of laughter. Woody had climbed out of the car and was playing hot hands with Emma. Emma was letting him win.

"Fine," Izzy sighed. "Fine. Here," she handed Ed the package of crackers. "She can come, but you need to eat."

"I have some granola bars," Emma smiled again, "if you want any."

"Thanks," Ed muttered around a mouthful of crackers, taking the proffered treat.

"The road's too jammed to get the car through," Izzy pointed, "unless we move some cars out of the way."

Emma dropped her backpack. "Let me do it. My dad owned a tow company. I've pushed a lot of cars in my day." She jogged over to the crush of cars, climbing onto the roof of a dark green sedan. She called back to Izzy, "It's not too bad. I'll only have to move a few cars." She hopped from roof to roof, then dropped down out of sight. But Izzy could hear her grunting and the tires on the road indicating that she was making progress.

"I like her," Woody grinned, his face sticky from cereal and granola bar. "She's fun."

"And useful," Ed added.

"Eat," Izzy commanded.

"I am, I am," he put more crackers in his mouth. "Why are you so suspicious anyway?"

Izzy rubbed her hands over her face. She couldn't possibly explain. "I don't know, Ed. I just want you to get well. I just want everything to go back to normal." But she knew it would never be normal again. The miles and miles of highway filled with cars that were more like coffins should have been all anyone needed to know that things would never be normal again.

Grinding metal lifted Izzy's gaze to where Emma pushed a car backwards out of the jam. "All set," she grunted, jogging back to them.

Izzy merely nodded and walked back to the driver's side of the car. "Ed, you should sit in back with Woods." He snuggled into the backseat with Woody, cuddled under a blanket together. Ed went right back to sleep, his breathing still ragged, but Woody sat up alert, as if he were fine. Maybe he was getting over it. Was that too much to hope? He gave a little wheezing cough, and Izzy's heart sank. Hope was going to kill her. It was going to break her heart, and then kill her.

Emma scooted up into the passenger seat, wiping sweat from her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. They rode on in silence for awhile, Izzy cautiously maneuvering through the path Emma had cleared. Partly so she wouldn't hurt her precious car and its still more precious cargo. Partly, though, because she still didn't trust this girl. For all Izzy knew, Emma could have a band of people waiting on the other side to jack all their shit. Or worse.

"So, you're a family." Izzy nodded warily. "A whole family still alive. Still together." Izzy watched the girl from the corner of her eye. "Gives me hope," Emma said, with a firm little nod.

Maybe she wasn't so bad. "Where're you from?" Izzy asked.

"Bakersfield, originally," Emma said, smiling again. "But I've been backpacking around since I graduated."

Graduated? "How old are you?" Izzy knew her tone was too sharp, even in her suspicious state. "Sorry. I didn't mean that to sound so harsh."

"Nah, it's cool. Don't worry about it," Emma shrugged. "I get it. I'd be overprotective too." There was a long pause, as if the girl was waiting for Izzy to say something. "I'm eighteen," Emma finally said.

"I'm this many," Woody held up his fingers.

"Seven?" Emma leaned around her seat to high-five Woody, who beamed with pride. "You're such a big guy!" She settled back into her seat and smiled at Izzy again. And it was odd...while Izzy's instincts told her not to trust, there was something disarming about this girl's smile. Izzy returned a small smile, but she still held the tension in her shoulders and hands, gripping the wheel just a little too hard.

The car returned to silence, marred only by the rough explosions of coughing erupting from deep in Ed's chest. Izzy would cast her eyes to the rear view mirror to check on him, but he was out. Woody stared out the windows, watching the forests thicken and fade as they passed from deserted stretches of road into small towns, which were also empty. Eventually, Woody got bored of the view and snuggled down against his dad to sleep.

"What the heck is that?" Emma said a couple of hours later, pointing at the road ahead of them. Blocking nearly the entire highway was a huge twisted hunk of metal.

"I don't know," Izzy murmured as she slowed the car. "A truck maybe?"

She pulled to a stop just in front of the black and gray vehicle. It was not a truck. The broken ends of propeller blades were visible on the other side of the helicopter. Emma hopped out of the car and trotted over to it. She placed her hands on the landing feet and shook, but it didn't move.

"I don't think we're gonna be able to get this out of the way," she called back, then jumped up onto the side, peering down into the cabin. "Hey!" She turned back and waved at Izzy. "Hey, there's somebody inside. I think she's alive."

~~~~~

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And if you get tired of waiting for this to update, you can always read my other Harry fic, The Other One, which is completed.

ZAYN will be next...