Short Story
Bleeding Out...................................
John, putting his hands on his forehead, sunk into his thoughts, sighing at his new realization. His eyes gazed unwillingly, like a child being dared to consume a bowl of caterpillars,at the paper settled on his mahogany desk. Strangely, this was the only paper on his normally cluttered desktop. He finally looked away as his sleepiness pulled him into an unfulfilling rest. He laid on his twin mattress pushed against the gray, concrete wall of his unfinished apartment. The dark consumed the room, and the blankets under which he laid did little to damper his shivering. “Please sir, don't you get it? It's nonsense.” “No. It's...” John began to exclaim, annoyed. “It's nothing? Yes, that's what I assumed,” said the man as he leisurely walked away down the hall. “Wait!” Seeing as it was too late, John stumbled out through the heavy metal doors and onto the lateral, two dimensional world. The flat world was smaller than himself and sinking in a sizzling, crimson blood. John tilted his neck down to analyze the situation. Soon enough, he was pulled into the liquid and all he heard was a laughter, an unsettling laughter. As he was being twisted and twirled into an unknown wave of blood, he saw almost transparent words do the same. FEVER. SORE THROAT. VOMITING. WEAKNESS. STOMACH PAIN. DRY HACKING COUGH. SEVERE HEADACHE. JOINT AND MUSCLE ACHES. DEHYDRATION. RASH. RED EYES. They spiraled through the blood ocean and disappeared... John woke up panting. He pulled his callused fingers through his thick and tangled chestnut locks, perplexed, blinking as if to make sure he was alive. He scrambled to his desk, ripped a blank paper from his notebook and jotted down something. Quickly, he began to undress, changing into a new set of clothes, more professional: a blue collared shirt and a pair of fitted black jeans. Jumping as he walked out the door, he managed to pull shoes over his sock-less feet. He slammed the heavy door, locking it, and leaving the empty and jail-like apartment behind, abandoned, but not forgotten. Outside, the partially hidden, undiscovered sun briefly streaked the busy city streets but was soon swallowed up by a cloud. John walked towards his 1991 Volkswagon Beetle, passing a bent over and vomiting man on the way. He swerved around the man and jumped into his car. He gave out a little chuckle and said to himself, “Had a little too much to drink, eh?” He drove to tenth street, parking in the alley of course, hidden from the eyes of the suspicious yet oblivious world. He ran up the set of stairs that led to his office. Pulling files from his now unlocked filing cabinet, he bustled to stuff them into his briefcase. He opened the door to leave the room. Bam! Before he could even shut the door, John was grabbed at the wrists by two burly men. Being trained in aikido, John managed to escape, leaving the men holding their now-aching muscles despite his simple and painless body twist. Running straight for his car, he disappeared in no more then a quick ten seconds. He drove a few blocks, then got out and went to the back of the Beetle, slipping off his license plate to reveal a new one. Then he pulled off the layer of white paint to reveal a new color entirely. Stuffing the decoys in his car, he headed off once more. He came to a small and hidden cafe. Sitting at the sunlit window seat inside the quiet cafe, he looked around and took in his surroundings. The people seemed distracted and dazed. One woman was holding her head, steadily taking sips of tea. An older man started coughing, apologized for disturbing the silence and stood up to finish his coughing spurt in the restroom. John got up knowing he had to eventually head “home”, and went to pay for his unfortunately dry cinnamon muffin and luke warm latte. The cashier was sitting down staring at a newspaper. Noticing John was standing there waiting to be on his way, the blood-shot eyed cashier got up sluggishly and took his cash. Saying a lifeless “good day,” the cashier slumped back down into his wooden chair. John, feeling sorry for the lad, obviously working overtime, gave him a tip, walked out through the swinging door and slipped into the darkness. Now it all seemed so clear. How could I have been so oblivious, John thought to himself. The man on the street, the men who tried to attack me, the women in the cafe, the coughing man! John almost fell over in disbelief. He felt trapped in his small apartment, having no where to run until he could forget the truth that had unknowingly sat in front of him, waiting to be discovered. He walked to the phone in the corner of his room, where the only window lay. He dialed a number on the stubborn buttons of his corded phone and waited as it rang. Ring ring, ring ring... “Hello?” “Hey Addison, it's me Johnathan Nosek” “Oh Johnathan, wow it's been a while. Whats up?” “Oh... um, hey I just haven't talked to you in a really long time and I just had some thoughts about some research. It might be nothing though, so don't get your hopes up,” John said releasing a smile. “Go ahead, I'd love to hear!” “Great, well just last night I was reading that article on on the Ebola Virus outbreak in the Congo. I had a realization of how bad it could have been if it wasn't caught, right?” “Ya, that could have been a disaster. Is that what you were researching?” Addison questioned, a little curious and confused. “Ya kind of. I just saw it in my desk and wanted to know more, so I went to get some files from the 17505 office. “I was curious about how secret the whole thing was,” John continued. “On my way to the office, I almost tripped over a vomiting man, who I thought was hungover, but now I have a different idea,” John said laughing a little. “Anyways, after I got the files, I went out and two men randomly tried to take me, but they were weaklings and with my aikido experience, they couldn't compete. “It was a little funny and strange because as I walked away they were literally wailing in pain. It was a little dramatic I thought, because I didn't even really hurt them. “Whatever though, so I went on my way and took off the paint cover and license plate just in case they planned on trying to track me, which I doubted.” “Ya?” “Then I went to that Gina's cafe, which by the way, was horrible, and went to look at my files. As I looked around, people watching as I normally do, I saw a man with a hacking cough which seemed painful, and a woman with what seemed like a severe headache. I thought nothing of it though, I mean who would?” “Ya, I guess.” “Anyways, I went to pay and the cashier looked more than exhausted, blood-shot eyes and all, like I did when I worked all those hours at the office as an intern. I left with a feeling, I couldn't identify it, but now I know it felt familiar............” “Johnathan?” “Ya sorry, I just feel like the whole day was like a giant case of Ebola, you know? This could be crazy, I mean really crazy. You know what, it's stupid, forget it...” John said nervously spitting out the words so quickly it was like a thousand knives hitting the ground around you at once. “John!” “You know what? I shouldn't have wasted your time... um anyways...” John continued spouting his speech until Addison finally caught his attention. “John! Stop. It's not stupid. I mean I get what you are saying.” “You do?” John asked in shock. A quizzical look inhabited his once-blank face. “Well, after just reading the newspaper, I am almost positive,” Addison spoke up with a little more conviction. “What newspaper?” “The Chicago Times.” “What does it say?” “It says 'This afternoon at Gina's cafe, a terrible incident occurred. Harry Stafford, age 57, died. He was found in the bathroom lying in a puddle of blood. They have concluded he bled to death but do not know the cause'...” John was in awe at first. He knew what happened. This is exactly what happens with Ebola. After catching the virus, in just a short two weeks, one can be dead. Blood seeps out of every opening in your body. Scarlet blood dribbles out of your ears, oozes out of your eyes, and bubbles out of your mouth. But moreover, Ebola is highly contagious. This virus could become a pandemic in no time. The realization hit him a little differently this time. It was more of a sadness, rather than a feeling of knowledge or the excitement of being right. He finally told Addison he had to go and she told him she was late for a hair appointment anyways and that she would catch up with him later. They both hung up feeling powerful but at the same time hopeless. John sat back at his desk in silence. The darkness seeped in and he remained in a still state until he was pulled away from the present reality by... “Oh, Lord,”Addison said, breathing unsteadily as she woke up from her strange dream. Leaning over her bed, placing her head over her trashcan, she expelled another gush of internal liquids. She gagged as the chunks piled out, like a boiling soup overflowing it's pot, and fell back down on her bed looking up at the ceiling, disoriented. She had been sick all week but had just begun to improve when her dream came out of nowhere, shocking her and overwhelming her to the point of vomiting. Her throat burned with acid and she took another sip of her herbal tea, hoping to be soothed by the honey that had just been discovered as she finished the last of her brew. Her dream had caught her off guard and now, more than ever, she felt unsettled but thanked God it was only a dream. She began to let go and eased into the softness of her bed. Letting every muscle in her body relax, she started to breath steadily. She knew she had to get up and drive to the airport in order to make her flight to Angola. She was going on the trip for a World Wildlife Fund photo shoot. She finally hustled for the door, luggage in hand, and with a cup of steaming coffee for the 20 minute car ride. Opening the front door, Addison was surprised to find a warm spring day lifting her out of her dark state. She felt a little hopeful that her life could take a turn for the best during her adventurous trip. She walked across the newly trimmed and watered green lawn that smelled fresh and sweet. Darting over the wet sidewalk, she ducked into the driver's seat of her scraped up Subaru. She threw her bag in the back seat and buckled as she set her cup in her duct-taped cup holder. She looked over her shoulder as she backed up and took off. She finally reached the always-crowded O'Hare airport and pulled into the satellite parking lot, from which she took a shuttle to Departing flights. She jumped out of the shuttle and walked in, a little flushed from the morning haste. As the line finally shrunk to the check-in counter, Addison was able to check her bag and headed up the steep escalator leading her to Gate B17. She finally made it to her destination after being jostled by the myriad of people as she rushed upstream though the strong current of travelers. She sat down, taking off her no-longer needed off-white overcoat based on the sudden rise of her temperature as she was surrounded by other busy warm-blooded bodies. She pulled her deep brown, nearly black, ringlets into a messy bun. Strands of curls were left flying in every direction as if she had just woken up on a rainy Saturday morning when the humidity prevented her curls from controlling themselves. On these occasions, she would insist on wearing her old dusty hat from her sophomore year of high school when she was the geek art student. Reaching down in her purse, Addison pulled out the Angola tourist pamphlet she had carefully placed in the side pocket. After reading about the hole in the ozone layer above her travel destination, she felt a little unnerved at the suggested instructions about the importance of sun protection. She had already felt a little on-edge knowing the Ebola virus had nearly overwhelmed it's borders. Wearing lots of sunscreen and staying out of sun exposure throughout the day was not Addison's initial idea of going to an a new and explorable country. She imagined exploring the city and hidden farm lands until the sun set, each evening anticipating only the next day of adventure. Instead, all she could envision now was sitting in an air conditioned hotel room throughout midday. Surrounded by fake floral wallpaper, she would wait for the sun's harshness to abate so she could go outside again and experience the sun's warmth and the country's real colors and sights. She sighed, knowing she would only harm herself by worrying; so as they called her group for boarding, she left the thought behind and boarded the plane. This plane, as most, had the distinct smell of an airplane that made Addison a little nauseous. She sat down in her seat, A19, and waited for the plane to take off. She would be traveling to Miami and then on to her final destination, Angola. As usual, on long plane rides the airline plays a movie or documentary. Addison, who normally sleeps through the dramatic, romantic comedies, was intrigued by a documentary about Greenland. It started off with an image of the glaciers in 1962 and then one from the current year. It was devastating seeing the glaciers literally disappear as the current image flashed across the screen. The film went on to explain what was happening to the animals who rely on the ice as their homes and more statistics about the melting rate, etc. It finally ended with the same images that passed the screen in the beginning and she could see that of those who were watching it, most sat in a state of pure devastation while a few others sat laughing about how the whole thing was a joke. Addison sat in her seat taken aback as she always did by these kinds of documentaries. She finally began to fall asleep, as she hadn't been able to do very well the night before. However, this time wasn't as gratifying either, seeing how the head rest was tilted down at a 45 degree angle and she felt her vertebra compress. She woke up holding her neck as it pained her to move it too far in any one direction. At that time, the pilot asked the flight attendants to prepare for landing and she knew they were no more than thirty minutes from Miami. As they pulled into the gate, it was around 2:30 p.m and she headed to the food court to grab some late lunch. She brought back the sizzling, sauteed chicken from the Chinese section. Sitting back down at her mainly empty gate, Addison watched CNN News as she savored her flavorful meal. She was watching something about oil and it said that just earlier today an oil well caught on fire and killed 5 workmen. It showed some images of the scene and then, noting there was not yet enough information on the incident, moved on to the“lighter”topic of politics. Not long after Addison dumped the remnants of the sticky, salty-sweet sauce that coated her paper plate, did she get in line once more to board the last plane that would bring her to her final destination. This flight, being longer, encountered more turbulence, making the trip even more impossible to sleep on. So as the day went by and they flew over the open ocean, Addison indulged herself in a book about Van Gogh and his art work. Landing in the Luanda Airport, Addison sat tired as her eyes drooped unaware of the people getting up and collecting their stuff around her. She finally got the hint and got up pulling her purse out from under the squished space in front of her feet. Passing through the aisle, she made it out of the plane and down to baggage claim despite having trouble reading the directory signs. Not being fluent in Portuguese didn't help her get to baggage claim any faster. She glanced at her phone as she added Angola to her weather app. The temperature was was about 80°F and a little breeze bounced off her face as she opened the door walking out of the airport. She found a taxi and started on her drive. They drove for more than an hour through parts of the city and further into farmlands. Finally, Addison was able to sleep despite the rather bumpy road that inhabited the last leg of the drive and was only woken at the sudden stop of the car as sheep crossed the road about a half an hour before they reached the camp. As they pulled into the tent compound, Addison saw the group she would be traveling with for the next two weeks, as well as her close co-workers from Chicago. Arriving at around 3:30 p.m. local time, Addison only stayed up to talk for a short time before she retired to her tent. Being totally jet lagged and somewhat delirious, she stumbled into her tent, crashing for the night. The sun shone in the screen windows that lined the tent Addison slept in. She was woken up as the sun hit her face, and she opened her eyes squinting as it pierced her irises. She got up and ate a rather tasteless oatmeal breakfast got her gear and headed to the van with the group. They were headed off to some kind of forest, or at least that is what she heard. The drive was more than long, three hours or so, and Addison just watched as the landscape whizzed past her eyes like a hummingbird whirling through one's vision. They came to a forest of sorts. Nothing but stumps of trees were rooted into the soil that once held the whole weight of 50ft trees waving in the wind. It stunned Addison to see a bare forest, no birds chirping, no hidden animals ready to pounce on another meal. An eerie silence was all that remained. They passed many more of these bare and sulking“forests”. Finally, after passing the last one, the van halted to a stop in a beautiful field, trees in the background and mountains even further beyond. It was an artist's dream to be able to shoot such a landscape. Addison stared at the scene for a minute, entranced. She was even more amazed though, when an animal emerged from the thick shadows of the forest, prancing through the tall grass, mane blowing in the mid-morning wind. It was too much for Addison to bear. She pulled out her camera and started snapping shots. Her team laughed, knowing Addison and her obsession of never allowing“perfect moments”to be missed. She kept on shooting, watching the sun's rays hit the lion's face. It was a sight to see, a sight to witness. The sun, so perfectly laid on the golden figure, was magical, surreal. After a whole day of shooting not only a beautiful landscape, but an even more beautiful lion and an array of other people and animals, they let the day come to an end and headed back to the camp. Addison woke up early the next day. It was a beautiful April morning, the 21st in fact. She sat at the fire eating her oatmeal and checking the U.S news. As usual, she saw the rising temperatures and drought in Texas where she was born and most of her family still lived. She thought about the rising temperatures and felt defeated. She wished she had never seen it; it was more than she could handle. She went on as a new article popped up: 'The Gulf Oil Spill'. At first Addison was confused. She opened the article and read through it thoroughly. She sat there shocked. Just the previous morning, the oil rig had exploded, spewing thousands of gallons of toxic oil into the gulf every hour. Her face must have said it all because her crew asked her what was wrong. She asked them if they had heard about the spill and everyone shook there heads confused. She read the article aloud again, reanalyzing the information. Addison quickly got up and dialed her parents number. Her mom answered and explained that the family was all right and that authorities were working on getting the oil out of the ocean. Of course, no one was allowed on the beach, but at the moment, every one fine. Addison went to bed that day after a rest day at camp. They went through the photos and edited them to later add to the WWF magazine. After watching a video on her I-phone about the spill, she was left quite distraught. She sat in an empty silence. All of a sudden a pang of regret passed through Addison. She was almost taken aback, mad at how she had been so quick to overlook the relevance of the dream about John and herself. She was brought back to her dream about the Ebola virus causing the population to be wiped out. She began to see the parallels between the Ebola symptoms and the current situations the earth is facing today. In the same way Ebola caused the people to die, today, it is the people themselves that are causing the earth's destruction and in the end, their own destruction. Oh my God! Addison thought to herself. “It's us!...We are the virus...............” |