The New Normal

There has been a stay at home order for 7 months now. Technically, it’s more than just a stay at home order. It’s a “if you walk outside your door you will be shot to death” order. The government is just trying to say it nicely. A new plague is going around. It’s worse than any other virus in history. Way worse.

It started at the beginning of December when the weather was cold and windy, but people still went out. It’s now July and the air is burning hot except in the evenings, with no one around except bodies. We call it Deathstroke. It a deadly virus that starts in different parts of your body cavities and works its way into your brain making you hallucinate, forget, go crazy, and die. Hence the name. Most of the people who do get the disease kill themselves, no one just falls over and dies, like a simple death would be. A happy death. That’s why not many people go out on their balconies anymore. The unfortunate souls that catch Deathstroke will jump straight off their balconies at night. Leaving every morning with more and more bodies lying in the streets and sidewalks. For the ones who don’t have balconies, they kill themselves in the streets with whatever they can find, getting one last breath of fresh air. The virus has gotten to the point the government has sent out military in the heaviest suits imaginable and has them assigned to guard the neighborhoods to make sure no one leaves their houses. They are posted on the streets, sidewalks, and hallways of apartment and hotel buildings. Glad I’m not one of them. Deathstroke has become so contagious it’s almost like you could catch it by looking at someone.

“400 million have died around the world in the past 8 months.” Says the news cast person through the TV. From the looks of it they are sitting in their living room talking through their computer screen as everyone else in the world. 400 million have died. Wow. The number of deaths have now doubled the deaths the Black Death plague caused in the 1300s and even quicker.

“Please pray for the nurses, doctors, and other healthcare providers as they are doing their best at such worse times.” Continues the news speaker. The news tries to be as hopeful as possible that someone can fix this, that everything will be better. Although, there are not many healthcare workers left. They have been killed off from the virus. Two of my cousins were nurses. They’re dead now. Again, glad I didn’t choose that profession.

 I haven’t seen my parents and sister for 8 months. There’s a pretty good chance I will never see them again. We all face time each other every day, but I’m waiting for the day they don’t answer. If one person gets it, they all do. Currently I’m living in Paris, France while my family lives in the United States. I’m a student on a rotary exchange, or at least I was. We are supposed to be exploring the country and the culture but now we look out the window. I guess it will be suffice enough for these horrifying times. All my schoolwork is online now, so I can stay in my tiny apartment, isolated. It’s one of those old apartments, built way back then with thin walls. My apartment is on the top floor at the corner of the building, with only one apartment next to mine. For all I know I don’t have a neighbor, but for the few past days I think I hear pots clang together when it gets quiet. Maybe I’m going crazy. That wouldn’t be such an impossible thought. My apartment does have a balcony though and I have laid blankets down the bars so I can’ t see down at the bodies left to be collected every morning. But every night I go out and sit on the hard concrete with my dinner, a glass of wine, and a book. Although, I can’t stay out to long or I will start to smell a foul stench and even worse, screams.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Ahh dinner time. I wait exactly five minutes after the doorbell rings and walk over to open a small sliding door at the bottom of the actual door to the apartment. It was required that everyone installed one on their door by hand. I didn’t do too bad of a job, even though it looks like it could fall apart at any moment.

 The military and volunteers bring us our food now for everyone in the country who has a job and claims they have a residence. The government finally solved the homeless issue, by letting them die off. The meals come every day, twice a day and are small enough to slide through the bottom part of the door. The meals themselves are very small so they can ration food for everyone, sense there are no more farmers and manufacture workers to mass produce food. Today’s meal is frozen noodles and a bag of frozen peas I have to heat up to eat. Tasty. I wonder if this is what the men and women eat at military boot camp. Although, I’m not in boot camp, only in my little apartment isolating myself from the world to keep me safe but doubling as a prison. Tonight, like always, I eat outside on my balcony for dinner not daring to stand up higher than the bars. As I’m digging into my tasteless meal ready to open my book, I hear a tapping noise coming from the vacant balcony next to mine.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I freeze. “Hello?” I ask stupidly through the blanket covered bars, not really expecting an answer but quickly surprised.

“Yes?” a deep voice answers, a man. 

“Whoa…who the hell are you?” I ask clearly shocked. I would ask the question nicer, but not knowing that I’ve possibly had a neighbor for seven miserable lonely months sets me on edge. I’ve had no one to talk to, at least face to face.

“Your neighbor obviously.” the deep voice says. He has an American accent too, he’s American like me. I would say no shit, but I didn’t know I had a neighbor until now. I need to see him face to face to make sure he’s real. You could just be going crazy. I push the thought away and crawl to the left side of my balcony and take down the blanket refusing to look down. Why am I the only one who has put up blankets?

“Oh good, now we can see each other face to face.” he says behind a magazine and lifts it down to see me. He’s young, mid twenty’s maybe. My age. He has dark black hair and bright blue eyes. He as a handsome face and broad shoulders, I can tell he’s muscular beneath his shirt. Its hard to see him through the bars and the darkness, but I can see he is also sitting on the concrete.

Oh.

  I was expecting someone much older with such a deep voice of his. When I don’t answer he continues, “It’s actually a good idea, so you can’t see the…the bodies.” He gestures with his hand towards the blankets I put up then the ground, but he keeps his eyes on me. I wonder how many bodies there are now on the streets, but I won’t look.

“How long have you lived here? Next door I mean.” I say quietly.

“Two hours.”

“Two hours?” I almost laugh out loud. If he’s only lived here for that long he’s practically a dead man, knowing that’s he’s had to travel to get here.

“Yeah just moved in. Nice place.” He says acting like this is a normal time and people aren’t dying left and right due to Deathstroke.

“Oh, right you just moved in without being shot to death. That’s cool.” I say sarcastically. For a second I think about putting the blanket back up and running inside to lock the doors. For all I know this man has gone batshit crazy from the virus. When he notices my hesitation he quickly says, “I work for the government of the United States. I was sent to live here to work and stay safe.”

“Then why aren’t you stationed at a military base or an embassy?” I ask skeptical.

“The work I do isn’t required to do at the base. But they said they needed me alive and that’s why I’m here.” He says more like a question than a statement, like he’s unsure of why he is really here.

“Well no offense but you’re not any safer here than you are at the military base. As you can see from the streets.” I say a little more harshly than I meant.

“Your American. What are you doing here in France? Vacation gone wrong?” he amuses.

“I’m here as a student. I hoped one day I would work at the United States Embassy here.” I hoped. From the looks of things nothing is getting better. The virus continues to kill more and more by the second. It will kill anyone left with a brain to fix this and then we are screwed. Big time.

“Are you here alone?” he asks sadly. His bright blue eyes shining at me.

“I came here with a college class. Most of them are dead now and the rotary exchange put me here, in this apartment. It was too late to send me back home. Most of my family is alive though.” I wish I could take back the words as soon as I said them. He doesn’t need to hear that. Especially when his situation could be worse. There are also many others with worse stories, even if they end on a sidewalk or a street.

“My parents are dead, but I think my brother is still alive. He sends me the occasional text but is too drunk to actually call.” He sighs and his muscles tense. It looks like he regrets saying those words just as much as I did when I said mine. His face darkens and his bored smile drops as he puts down his magazine. I guess it’s harder to say the words aloud. That makes two of us.

“I didn’t think I was ever going to talk to another person face to face again.” I say quietly breaking the silence.

“Me nether, glad I get to though. What’s your name?” he asks, his smile returning.

“Raelynn, but most people call me Rae. Yours?”

“Jack, but most people call me Jack.” He says, his smile getting wider as he gets up and reaches for his door. “I better get some sleep. It’s good to meet you. Will I get to see you tomorrow Rae?” The way he says it sounds so normal, comforting. Normal is what I need. I have been alone for too long watching death.

“I think you will.” I smile meaning every word.