Deep Breath

Tyler placed his briefcase in the decontaminating closet along with his coat, and snapped the closet door shut before he punched the large red button for the sani spray shower.

“Kah- chunk!”

He heard the exhaust doors in the HVAC slam into place and the fan began to whir. This had been the routine to returning home for ten years at least. 

Tyler quickly moved his hands up and down his torso and legs, front and back, to make sure there was no loose material. He couldn’t help but giggle inside a little every time he watch his tie float upwards in front of his face before it swayed steadily for several seconds.

This was always a good opportunity if he closed his eyes and stood really still. He could use these seconds to determine if he had any stray hairs on his nose, or ears face or forehead, wherever those buggers popped up. It sucked getting old. He would play his fingertips over those areas and then focus on it intensely to detect the slight pull created when the hairs are sucked upward by the exhaust fan.

His shirt billowed and his pant legs flapped. The only time that this didn’t happen to his trousers was when he was wearing his one pair of skinny pants. Chances weren’t good for that. Tyler like to barely keep his fingers on the pulse of fashion. He found it annoying. He recently learned to match outfits and he stopped wearing shorts so much; that’s the best he could do right now. 

His pants stop moving and he braced himself for the spray. This was the part that he hated. It didn’t hurt. It was a little cold, but to be honest you could barely feel it. But you could definitely smell it. The five second body sanitizing spray made Tyler feel like you were sniffing hospital fumes for two hours. If you don’t know what I mean by sniffing hospital fumes then good for you. I am sincerely very happy for you because it means that you have not spent any great length of time visiting hospitals for and with family members.

Tyler was not so lucky. His mother his father his brother and a sister and all succumbed  to mysteriously illnesses In the past year. As  the spray stopped and the second exhaust cycle kicked in Tyler wondered aloud how long his family had been waiting before they could get off the grid and escape to the cabin. 

“Seven hundred and thirty five days is tomw.... one more sleep.”

Tyler spoke as if he was suddenly awestruck with the idea. He spoke as if the exhaust nozzle dangling from the ceiling was a microphone and he was announcing to an arena. 

Behind the control panel a red light began blinking. Tyler couldn’t see it. Tyler couldn’t see the high-speed video montage on the computer screen. It was Tyler talking to himself in the decontamination chamber over the last two and some odd years in the entranceway of his house. Random snippets of what he said we’re being sliced with numbers descending rapidly and regularly from seven hundred thirty five down to one. The number one flashed red inside  the panel.

The exhaust kicked off and the front doors slid open Tyler kicked his shoes into the bucket before leaving the decontamination chamber. He punched the green button just outside with an exaggerated karate slow motion punch closing the doors

The house slowly hummed to life with light and low music  as he stepped in. Comforting and yet creepy.  It would be another hour before his wife and kids got home.

Everybody was packed taylor was happy to get some time to relax and reflect on what it would be like for him and his  family on Moosehead Lake in way up north Maine. He knew that all of this technology and all of this anti-bacteria antiviral activity was was having an effect was somehow behind his families deaths.

Tyler realized he left his phone in the car his head sagged 

“Ugh” he said 

he didn’t want to go back theough the fumatorium. His favorite song had just come on. It was called “I Ran.” So appropriate.

With a quick push of will he slammed his palms into the sofa and drove himself into a standing position. He clicked on his Bluetooth speakers in his ear so he could rock out as he ran out to the car.

“I ran so far away I couldn’t get away.”

Tyler put his phone through the decontamination slot he would pick it up in the living room. He punched on the system as he danced. He pictured the spray as the fog from the music video from the 1980s.

Normally the spray had a blinking green light what Tyler didn’t notice is that now is blinking yellow and because the music was blasting in his ears he could not hear the alarm buzz the exhaust system kicked in and the secondary spray with the same yellow light which turned red for the last five seconds. The same buzzing alarm was directed at the back of Tyler‘s head as he shook his butt with his hands twitching high  in the air.

When the second exhaust cycle stopped Tyler was twirling madly and burst out of the cleaning room when the door clicked open. 

He tapped  his earbud bringing the flock of seagulls to life in the house.

“I Ran so far awaaaayy ... I couldn’t get away.”

Tyler danced into the kitchen opened the refrigerator and winced. 

“What was that?”

His hand clutched at his rib cage. The pain ripped through his lungs like fire. He reached up for the milk. He knew this wasn’t heartburn but he had to try something. He ripped off the cap. Another spasm hit as the bottle got to his lips and he fell writhing on the floor. The milk drained onto the floor in rhythmic waves from the carton. 

Mary felt a sinking feeling as she pulled into the driveway. She had been excited at times to leave behind their life of modern technology, but she was dreading it now, and they were supposed to leave tomorrow. 

The kids hadn’t said much on the way home from school, but she could sense they felt the same way. Call it a mother’s intuition. The constant pandemic alerts were stressful but there was so much that was good about all this technology which they were surrounded by. The music, the movies the hologram sports that played the game right in your living room.

When Mary thought of how much work just dinner would be now up in the remote cabin on the lake, she felt nauseous. 

 It was three years since decontamination chambers were required by law in all residences. Tyler hated it but Mary found it comforting. This might be the last time we go through this Mom! Bobby said. Mary smiled weakly as she helped the kids secure their coats bags and shoes before she reached out and pressed the big button with her long flawlessly manicured fingers. She suddenly had a panicky feeling that doing her own nails with her daughter would not be as fun as she had built it up to be. The green light reflected in the darkening entranceway as the  spray engaged. It  occurred to her that she would never be able to pull off the French manicures that made her so happy.

She felt like she was moving in slow motion and her feet were made of lead as the kids ran out of the chamber and she turned to click the doors shut.  Just as she did she heard her daughter’s scream echo throughout the house. She was in the kitchen.

As Mary got closer she saw the cat lapping at something coming through the dining room door to the kitchen. It was a river of milk. Stepping over it she pushed open the door to see Tyler’s lifeless body on the floor of the kitchen. The face of her teenage daughter told her everything. Mary slumped against the door frame and as tears slid down her face she was horrified to feel relief.