Pestilence

13

Howie sat on a cot with his daughter lying down behind him. She was listening to her iPod and falling asleep. Kids seemed to have an amazing ability to sleep through almost anything. He glanced at her and then back out over the men. An uncomfortable thought came over him. She was the only female he’d seen on this side of the fence.

Guards walked the perimeter and were stationed on makeshift towers that seemed to be rising higher as time went on. But the crowds were so dense, they weren’t able to pay attention to everything.

The man in the cot across from him was also sitting down and nervously rubbing his hands together. He smiled at Howie. “You ever been through something like this?”

“No,” Howie said. “I don’t even really know what this is.”

“I was talkin’ to some o’ the other guys, and they said it had to do with the sickness.”

“What sickness?”

“That flu or whatever that was in Hawaii some time back. You remember when they had to shut down the airport and all that?”

He did remember hearing something about it on NPR. But the public was so jumpy that anything unusual would set off a panic, so he hadn’t paid attention to it. Avian flu, one of the most ridiculously docile viruses in history, had caused an enormous panic that triggered a drop in commodity and stock prices as people were anticipating Armageddon-like devastation. And of course, nothing happened. He had thought the virus they were reporting on in Hawaii had been something similar and that some doctor working for the government would come out and say it was nothing.

“I do remember that,” he said. “What does this have to do with it?”

“It’s here, man. At least, that’s what they say. That it’s on the mainland, and they’re closin’ off California.”

“The entire state? That’s impossible. The border’s hundreds of miles long.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, man. That’s just what they sayin’.”

Lighting was sparse, but out of nowhere, the entire beach was engulfed with illumination. Massive floodlights connected to generators turned on. The lighting was harsh and felt like the sun. A crowd entered both the men’s and the women’s sides, and couples spoke to each other through the chain-link fence, calming crying spouses and children.

“This is monstrous,” Howie said. “They can’t do this.”

“Already did it, man. It’s done.” He put out his hand. “I’m Mike, by the way.”

“Howie.”

“Well, Howie, I wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you, but this is about the craziest thing that’s ever happened to me. Damn near shit my pants when them guardsmen broke inta my house.”

Howie glanced around the space. He recognized only two ways to get out: the entrance he had come through and an entrance at the back that was sealed with a massive steel lock. Howie rose and said, “Mike, keep an eye on her for a second, would you?”

“No problem.”

He walked past Mike and across the sand to the other entrance. A floodlight was directly on it, so he didn’t go near. The lock was at least five inches thick. Howie glanced back to make sure Jessica was all right, and Mike was sitting in the sand next to her, anxiously glancing around at the other men who were pouring in.

“Keep moving.”

Howie turned around and saw a guardsman staring at him through the fence. “Excuse me?”

“I said, keep moving. We don’t want any guests near the entrances.”

“Guests? Is that what we are? ’Cause I certainly don’t feel like a guest.”

A crowd of several men was gathering behind him, some shouting things. Others stood quietly by and eyed the guardsman. The guard seemed to notice, and he puffed out his chest, a steely resolve in his eyes.

“I said, get back,” he shouted, pulling the semi-automatic rifle strapped to his back.

“What are you going to do? Shoot us?” Howie asked. “For what? Why are we even here?”

“I won’t ask you again. Get back!”

“I want a lawyer,” Howie said.

The men behind him were shouting, and several guardsmen had run over. The first one bit his lip, glanced around, and opened the door. When the lock was off, Howie rushed in, several guardsmen behind him. Howie thought he might be arrested, but the guardsman raised his rifle, and he realized that wasn’t what was going on.

The butt of the rifle hit his nose so hard that he flew off his feet. Men were shouting, and fists were flying before he heard shots and screaming. As he tried to get up, a guardsman slammed his rifle into him, and he fell back to the sand, staring up at the moonlit sky through a fog.