Immersion

I was 5 when Coronavirus made its first attack upon our world. I remember how much I missed my kindergarten class, especially my teacher and two best friends. I remember my mom trying to mask her fear and my father his frustration. She was convinced it was the end of the world and he was convinced it was nothing. Turns out she was closer to right, but he was the first person I knew to succumb to the disease. But that wasn’t during the first wave. We weathered the first wave well enough. At first we took things seriously – mom was worried and dad was cautious, but after the second month my father couldn’t take it anymore, and sprinted to the golf courses as soon as they were reopened. Mom didn’t seem worried any more and assured me I would be back at school in the fall.

Things reopening was probably the hardest part, because you COULD go places, and you WANTED to go places. But so did everyone else. And anyone else could have the disease and give it to you. And there was still no cure. I didn’t understand it at the time, but I think what tortured my mom the most was the decision to visit her grandmother. Grammy was 98 and still lived by herself. Mom worried that visiting her, we might unknowingly infect her. But she also worried that if we didn’t visit her, she might lose the will to live, which could be equally deadly.

Anyway, while dad dove back into life the second he could, mom was more cautious, and slowly, over the course of the summer, we started going out. Not with the frequency we had in the past, but enough to start to feel normal again. In the fall school resumed. Some doctors advised against it, cautioning that the disease would likely return in the fall and be even more deadly, especially when combined with the seasonal flu. And they were right. It came back in a deadly wave that swept across the world. They closed schools again – what else could they do – and the world was again ordered to quarantine, but this time people refused to comply. They remembered the two months they had spent teetering on the brink of insanity only months before and refused to subject themselves to it again. Some major cities had rioting, which pushed the government beyond its ability to enforce the decrees. But most people just refused to comply and went about their business. And the disease spread.

Anyway, you don’t need to hear about the disease and the insurrections. My family didn’t have a bunker like some others, but even those who did were not protected. The population was decimated. After I lost those I loved, I hid away, trying to save myself from the violence and the disease, but eventually I needed to venture out for supplies and I realized there was nothing to hide from. Not any longer. I ventured through grocery stores that had clearly been pillaged. I kept my social distance from the quiet houses for months until I got to the point where I was so desperate to find someone, anyone, that I started peering through windows, then breaking them and breaking in. But I never found what I wanted, just a lot of things that I wish I could erase from my memory.

Eventually I came to the realization that I was the only one left. Why me? What saved me? I have no idea. Even when the news was on every waking moment I didn’t know if that information was trustworthy, and the final moments of humanity were not recorded. Electricity had been cut off when the power companies shut down and battery backups only last so long. Besides, I’m sure everyone was too focused on surviving to worry about documenting the history that was being made. Besides, since it was the end of humanity, why bother? Who would be there to learn from it? Me? Sure, but after me? No one.

Once I realized I was the only one left and that I needed to figure out how to survive, I had to come up with a plan. Like my peers, I was extremely reliant on technology and that was lost. I didn’t really have any practical skills, but after a lot of trial and error, I learned some. My mom had cultivated a garden of our favorite fruits and vegetables when I was still young and a lot of that survived. I found other plants I recognized and grew as much as I could. And I stocked up on canned goods from the grocery stores.

Are there moments I wished I had not been spared? That I want to quit? Absolutely. But I know life isn’t easy and that many who died would want to switch with me. So I try to be grateful for what I have. My mom always wanted to travel the world, so I decided I would do the same – or at least what I can. I don’t know if I will ever figure how to cross the ocean to Europe, but I can travel this country. There are abandoned cars all over this country and I can take them for a jaunt whenever I wish.

Desiring a vacation from this reality, my first trip was along the overseas highway. Seeing Key deer frolicking along the road and swimming with dolphins and manatees, immersed in the soothing sea nearly allayed my loneliness, but there was still something missing. With hurricane season looming, I decided to travel north. I told myself the next obvious tourist spot was the blue ridge parkway, but somewhere deep inside, I knew I was looking for another survivor. I never had much of a formal education, but intuitively I knew that it was unlikely I was the ONLY person able to survive. Statistically there had to be another person who had all the same variables as I did, right? But where would I find such a person? I figured our nation’s capital made as much sense as anything, so I followed this meandering highway north. But I did not find anyone in the former capital. I climbed the Washington monument, I expected to feel little, but was unaffected. I guess I couldn’t feel any smaller or less significant. Trying to connect to humanity and the past, I slowly made my way through the Smithsonian. It all seemed so distant. I even walked through the White House and stood in the Oval Office. I figured I had the right. I am the only one left, so I am the ruler of it.

Measuring time seems meaningless, so I cannot tell you how long I sought for people and answers in that city. Afterward I wasn’t sure whether to go north or west. Ultimately, I decided to go north, figuring I could turn west once I had seen Niagara Falls. My parents had taken me there when I was two years old. I hoped seeing it might help me see them in my memory because their images were starting to fade.

As I got close, I saw the Skylon Tower in the distance and started catching glimpses of the falls. I had a hard time keeping my eyes on the road because I wanted to look to my left. There was a soothing rumble that brought me a feeling of peace. But as I entered the city, movement drew my eyes away from the falls. My eyes followed the movement without my will, but I expected to see a stray dog or some other wildlife. Instead, I saw a young man who had just dropped whatever he had been carrying and was staring at me.

I nearly crashed the car. I slammed on the brakes and threw the car into park, certain I was hallucinating. I closed my eyes and kept them closed for a moment before reopening them. He was walking towards me. What should I do? The last time I interacted with people, you were supposed to walk around with a mask on and maintain social distance. But I didn’t have a mask. And it had been years. He couldn’t be a carrier, could he? And I was immune, right?

What if he was dangerous? I stopped carrying a gun a long time ago. There didn’t seem to be a point. He didn’t seem worried as he continued to advance with long strides. He threw open my door before I could decide on any plan and we stared at each other frozen for a moment. It had been so long since I had spoken to someone. “Hello, what’s your name?” didn’t seem to cut it. But “Are you really alive?” didn’t seem quite right either.

He seemed equally flummoxed and finally reached out his hand, before remembering and retracting it and simply saying, “I’m Janus. Jan.”

“Anastasia. Tasia.” Another awkward moment. “How did you . . .”

“Survive? I don’t know. You?”

“Stayed out of the way, I guess.” But it sounded more like a question. “I thought I was the only one.”

“Me too.” And then we seemed to realize where we were. I wasn’t sure whether to leave the car where it was or to finish driving into town.

“I need to find a place to stay.”

“I have a place nearby.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t know this man. I couldn’t just go stay with him. But I had spent all this time looking for him. I couldn’t lose him now.

“Any place I could crash nearby?”

He gave me a look I couldn’t decipher but nodded. He climbed in the passenger seat and gave me directions to a nearby building.

“I stay in this house,” he indicated one to our right, “but this one is also in pretty good shape. If you want I can help you settle in and we can talk.”

“Okay.” I grabbed my duffle with my few belongings – the things I needed to survive mentally and physically. He opened the door, clearly he had been here before. I scouted the house and then chose a room to make my own and started tidying. He followed my lead.

“So where are you from? “ he asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” I replied, trying not to think of my home or family. Keep looking forward.

“I guess not,” he agreed. “I grew up around here. It used to be so busy with tourists. This quiet is strange.”

I nodded. I couldn’t figure out what to say. I had been looking for someone for so long and there was so much I wanted to say, but I didn’t know him. And I hadn’t talked to anyone other than myself in so long that the words simply wouldn’t come. 

“Do you think we should have sex?” Jan asked.

“What?” I spun to face him, prepared to defend myself. He held up his hands as a red color spread across his cheeks.

“Well, as far as we know we are the last two people. What if we were spared to repopulate the earth?”

“I don’t know you. And if there are two of us, there might be more. And it is not my job to rebuild humanity. I didn’t destroy it, and I am not going to try to be a baby factory to fix others’ mistakes.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “Sorry. I just, I thought it, and I couldn’t think about anything else until I said it.”

“Listen, I’ve been driving all day. I’m tired. I’m going to eat something and call it a night.”

“I have some fresh fruit at my place,” Jan offered.

“No thanks, maybe tomorrow.” Jan shrugged and left. 

I secured the door, still uncomfortable with his suggestion and wondering if I could trust the last man left on earth. What if I couldn’t? What if I could? A lot of thoughts and possibilities swirled in my head so it was long before the sound of the falls could lull me to sleep.

I spent the next few days getting to know Jan better. It was weird talking to him. And he was so awkward. He kept calling me Annie, which made me feel like a child, but also gave me a fluttering sense of familiarity. One day he coaxed me into a swim in the river near Bridal Falls. It was cold and the chill saturated me to my core, but I could feel the power of nature around me. It also made me feel a bond to him; I understood why he loved it.

As it got colder, I moved into his house. I said it was just because it was more pragmatic to heat one house than two, but I had come to feel like Jan was my family. 

Eventually, I felt the need to see more of our world. I was worried because I didn’t want to leave Jan behind, but I wasn’t sure if he would leave his home. When I told him my desire to drive across the country, see the Grand Canyon, and swim in the Pacific Ocean, he looked scared, but maybe he was more scared I wouldn’t come back.

We shared so many experiences in our cross-country journey. We even met another couple when we stopped at an old rest stop to look for food. So the responsibility of the human race is not on our shoulders alone. There are others. I don’t HAVE to be with Janus. But now I want to be. We will finish this journey. Maybe we will find more survivors and if we do, maybe we can band together and form our own city. But first I am going to plunge into the Pacific Ocean with Janus. Then we can plan our future.