Pandemic

**shoutout to Aerin Rebecca***

Hey guys. You're probably wondering right now: what the heck does this have to do with the writing prompt? What was Timber Wolf thinking?! Well, I'm going to post a story for an actual prompt, but this story I wrote when I was eleven on the way home from a zombie-themed birthday party. To be 100% completely honest, I don't care about winning contests. I just like to write. Hope you guys like it, because I definitely do.

-TW

Hi. I'm Aerin Pierce.

Life before quarantine was definitely a heck lot easier than now. If the pandemic hadn’t hit, I would be happy. I’d be sitting at the dinner table with my mom and dad and Joey right now. But instead, I’m eating Spaghetti-O’s from a can on a boat in the middle of nowhere with my best friend and a bunch of strangers.

Why am I here, you ask? A pandemic known as the Veiled Affliction hit former North America-now called Ebleux. No one knows how or why. Everyone on board’s families are presumed dead. The rest of us are immune. None of us know if there are any other survivors.

What is the Veiled Affliction? It’s deadly. Lethal. Fatal. Destructive. Merciless. It is a disease that enters through open cuts, nostrils, and your mouth. It flows through your body all the way to your lungs. It eventually duplicates until your lungs are filled, which usually takes a week or so, depending on your age. The smaller, the faster. Once your lungs are filled with the disease, they shrink. You start to feel nauseous and vomit. The vomiting eventually ceases, but then you are suffocated by the air because your lungs cannot handle being that small.

Everyone on our boat, The Starpath, has a gold ring around their arm just under their elbow, which somehow makes us immune.

Anyway.

As I’m eating the Spaghetti-O’s from the can, my best friend, Lana Elliot, comes over to me, a plastic container of peaches in her hand.

“Hey, Aerin,” she says subtly. Maybe because I’m horrible at reading expressions, but probably because now, Lana is a very complex, difficult-to-understand person. She gives me an awkward side hug, then sits down next to me.

“Hi,” I reply in the same nonchalant tone. Lana lazily pulls her long, swishy red hair into a messy bun on the top of her head. 

“How’re you doing?” she questions, stuffing a peach slice or two into her petite mouth.

“Fine. You?” 

“I… I don’t know. It’s only been two weeks since we left Ebleux, and I have no one. Well besides you, of course,” she attempts to chuckle, but it comes out as a shrill cough. “I feel awful. What is wrong with us? Are we going insane?”

I contemplate the comment for a moment. Are we going insane? What are we doing with our lives? Is this all a dream? A mirage? I pull myself out of the harsh thoughts and decide what to say. “I don’t think we’re going insane. I think… I think we’re just not used to this… this quarantine. Not used to being on a boat with a bunch of strangers for so long,” I explain, satisfied with my response. Lana’s grey, lifeless eyes linger at me for a moment. I notice her slowly fading laugh lines, suddenly feeling sad for her. She used to be an extroverted, happy, jubilant teenage girl. Now?-well, I don’t know what goes on in her head. She seems depressed. Anxious. Forlorn. Crest-fallen. Dismal. Grief-stricken. I feel about the same, sadly enough.

“Aerin?” says a voice, breaking the silence and my train of thought. I look up to see Dylan Virgo, one of the immune crew members. His thick hair is messy and his clothes are wrinkled. Sleep deprivation has caused his skin, like everyone else’s, to become paler and duller. His green eyes...

“Dylan?” I stand up, hoping for some news about incoming land because the captain, Peter Castellan is his best friend. “Any news?”

“No. Just coming to, ah, see how you girls are holding up,” he blushes, raking his fingers through his sun-bleached hair.

“We’re fine, I guess,” Lana assures, tossing yet another two peaches in her mouth. Her callused gymnast hands fidget with the now empty container in her lap. 

“Okay. Peter wants everyone to know that it’s almost time for everybody to head in,” Dylan notified. “You might want to start heading to your cabin.”

“Alright,” I say, setting the Spaghetti-O’s down. 

“You gonna eat those?” Lana asks.

“Nah. You can have ‘em,” I mumble. I hand her the can, which she eats gratefully. I doubt her now-hollow cheekbones and shrunken stomach will ever recover.

“See you, girls. Later,” Dylan says and departs from us. Lana and I head downstairs to our bunks and change into our old Billie Eilish(whoever that is) nightshirts. Lana hops to the top bunk and falls asleep in a matter of minutes. I sit quietly at the metal desk across from the bed, randomly sketching faces. I eventually find myself in a world of people running around, screaming for their lives. I try to wake up, but I can’t. I’m stuck.

Four hours later, I lay down in my bunk, tired of sitting, tired of drawing, tired of nightmares. I think of my mom, Anne. A caring, loving woman who helped me with everything.

I think of Joey. Oh, Joey. A poor, unfortunate soul. Only five years old. Presumably dead. I’ll never know. I left before he died.

I think of my dad, Jason. A strong, passionate man who would do anything for his fourteen-year-old daughter and five-year-old son. So sad. So depressing.

I think of the song my mother used to sing to me when I was little.

Hush, now. Quiet now

Time to go to bed

Pray that you stay safe

Sleep, my darling, safe and sound

Brave what you most fear

And don't let the waves overcome you

I wish I hadn't let my mother down.

I lie back, hoping that we’ll soon find some land and hopefully, some decent food. I eventually fall asleep, dreaming of a better world than this and hopefully, no nightmares.