Last Dance at the End of the World Read online

  That was just who he was.

  “Travis, I think you’re worrying about this too much,” he said, sitting across from me.

  “I wouldn’t say worrying about it. Curious is more like it.”

  “I say something to your boss and here you are.”

  “Yeah, but I mean, three people?”

  “Two weeks ago, we had nine people with the flu. Five went to the hospital, I didn’t see you here.”

  “This is different,” I said. “It really is.”

  “You think maybe you feel different about it because you had such a hard time when you had it? I mean, we all felt bad about the Velcro shoes.”

  “It was more than Velcro shoes, it was that a part of my brain went blank,” I replied.

  “Is it still blank?” he asked.

  “Well, no.”

  “And the brains of the ones who went to the hospital won’t be blank for long either. They haven’t even been confirmed to have it.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “I called. I followed up. If this thing is breaking out here, I want to know, but the doctors at the hospital didn’t seem too concerned, neither should we.”

  “Maybe you’re right. Maybe this has to do with me having it.”

  “Bet it does. If you want to feel better, why don’t you call the doctor that worked with you on it? The big virus guy, bet he could put your mind at ease.”

  “Which one?” I asked. “I mean I could call any of them.”

  “The one that coined the phrase the Great Eight.”

  The Great Eight. There was a term I hadn’t heard in a couple years. That was what they referred to us as, the eight people whose consistent tests results showed the super evolved ARC protein that led to the cure.

  “Oh yeah, him, he was an epidemiologist.” I nodded. “I might reach out.”

  “Let me know what he says, if you don’t mind.”

  “I will and thank you.” I stood.

  “And Travis, honestly, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. It could be anything.”

  “You’re right, and all I’m gonna worry about is getting my wings.”

  “You headed down to Reilly’s?” Chief asked.

  “Yep. It’s fifty cent whole wings night.”

  “Can you grab me an order?”

  “Sure thing.”

  I thanked him once more and apologized for bothering him and left the station. When I got in my truck, I pulled out my phone and called home.

  “Hey, hon,” Maranda answered the phone. “Everything okay?”

  “It is. Why do you ask?”

  “You don’t usually call during the day.”

  That made me smile, because I didn’t. “You’re right,” I told her. “Two reasons. I’m headed to Reilly’s for wings, did you want some?”

  “No, I’m headed out. But thank you.”

  “That is the second reason,” I said. “You told me you have a painting to deliver, you didn’t mention where and I didn’t know if you need me home for the kids.”

  “Oh, I should be back. It’s not even one yet. I’m only going to West Raven to drop it off to Mary Wells.”

  “Mary Wells, why does that name sound familiar?” I asked.

  “Probably because she lived here in town and just moved. I mentioned she commissioned me to do that painting of her mother for her new house.”

  “Yeah, probably, weird because I remember everything.”

  “Not everything, Travis,” Maranda stated. “Just what you decide to embed to memory.”

  “True. So, you’ll be home?”

  “Unless her and I get to talking.”

  “Which is possible,” I said. “I’ll get home early anyhow, so Beau isn’t stuck babysitting for long.”

  “Sounds good,” she said. “Enjoy those wings.”

  “I will and be safe. There’s a little snow on the ground.”

  “Oh, it’s just a bit. I’m not worried. The tires are good.”

  “Just be safe.”

  “I will,” she replied.

  We exchanged our ‘end of the call I love you’ and I hung up.

  After talking to Maranda, I felt better. She sounded fine and, for the time being, I was more concerned about getting my wings.

  <><><><>

  Reilly’s was located east, a mile out of town. It was more of a neighborhood bar than restaurant. After a certain time of night, the food stopped cooking and the booze flowed. They had music three nights a week.

  It wasn’t a great big place, about the size of a diner, and it attracted a lot of customers from the highway. Probably because of that tall, obnoxious neon sign with a horseshoe, like it was some Irish place.

  I was surprised when I pulled up and only saw two cars in the lot. It was lunch time on wing special day, it should have been jumping. Then again, there was a glaze of snow on the ground and people always got scared when it snowed.

  At least I wouldn’t feel like a pain in the butt when I went in during lunch rush to get four orders of Reilly’s special sauce wings.

  I had to get an order for Beau.

  When I stepped in, I didn’t see anyone. I could smell food cooking and the television behind the bar was playing along with the jukebox.

  I walked to the bar and there was a drink sitting there, so someone was around. I grabbed my phone, shooting Connor a text to let him know I thought Reilly’s was short staffed and it would be a little bit. Just as I hit send and set my phone on the bar, I glanced up to the news.

  I couldn’t really make out what the woman was saying with the music playing, but I was stunned when I saw the words, seventeen thousand confirmed.

  The squeak then slam of the door caught my attention, I thought maybe it was George the bartender, but it was some guy about my age coming out of the bathroom. I could tell right away he was a traveler. A fancy one. He had perfect dark hair, he wore what looked like designer jeans and a dressy button down shirt.

  Totally out of place for our town.

  Returning my attention to the television, I must have muttered out loud when I thought, “Seventeen thousand? Would that be cases?”

  “It would be,” the man from the bathroom stood next to me and grabbed the drink. “Seventeen thousand cases, more each day.”

  “Of ARC?” I asked.

  “Yep.” He sipped his drink.

  I whistled. “Holy cow.”

  “I’ll tell you though.” He lifted his drink using it to point to the television. “That won’t be me.” He took a sip.

  “How do you know? Did you have it?”

  “No, I didn’t get the vaccination.”

  “I’m sorry?” I asked confused.

  “The Alzheimer’s vaccine, I didn’t get it.”

  “You think that’s what’s causing this?”

  “Without a doubt, then again, I don’t believe in scientific medication or rather, western medicine. No, let me rephrase, I prefer Eastern Medicine. Sometimes there’s a place for Western medicine.”

  “Eastern, Western,” I said. “You mean like New York Versus California?”

  He chuckled and took another sip, set down his drink, reached for his wallet. “No, I mean, traditional Chinese medicine. That’s called Eastern.” He pulled out a card and handed it to me.

  “Doctor Jon Yee,” I read it. “Are you a real doctor?”

  “I am. I went to UCLA.”

  “Oh, your card says your office is in Nevada, you’re a long way from home. You driving?”

  “I am. I had a conference in Atlanta. I hate flying. I’d rather drive. I always do,” Jon said. “It’s my first time through here. It’s nice. Snowy, but nice.”

  “Just be careful, they don’t get to the roads right away.” I extended the card back to him.

  “Keep it. You may be out my way sometime.”

  “Doubt it, but who knows.” I stuck the card in my pocket. “I will say, you picked a good place to get food. Reilly’s has the best wings. Did yo
u get Reilly’s special sauce?”

  “I did. So, they’ll be worth the wait?”

  “Absolutely,” I replied.

  “They do take a while.”

  “How long have you been waiting?”

  He looked down at his watch. “Over twenty minutes. He’s been back there a while. I think he burned the first batch though.”

  I sniffed. Jon was right, something was burning. It wasn’t hardcore burning, but a hint of ‘over done’ filled the air. “And you said George has been back there this whole time?”

  “I guess. I don’t know if that’s his name or not.”

  “Weird.” I inched down the bar nearer to the kitchen door. “Hey, George!” I hollered out. “George, it’s Travis.”

  “So, this is unusual for him to stay back there?” Jon asked.

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “You think he’s alright?”

  “I’ll find out.”

  “I’ll come with you.” After one more drink, nearly finishing his glass, Jon set it down and walked toward me.

  As soon as I opened the kitchen door, I saw the smoke. It wasn’t thick and black, more like gray and it carried a strange smell.

  “Hey, George, whatcha do?” I called out. “Burn the wings?” It wasn’t so thick that I wouldn’t see him.

  Jon did. He saw George before I did.

  Blurting out a shocked, “Jesus,” Jon brushed by me and raced forward. That was when I saw George.

  He stood next to the two basket deep fryers. No expression on his face, eyes forward in a lost stare while his arm, up to the elbow, was submerged in the frying oil.

  Steam poured up and he didn’t react, not to the burning, the pain or our presence.

  Jon reached him, looked at me and ordered, “Call 911.” He braced George and reached for his arm.

  I nodded quickly, stumbling back, reaching for my phone.

  I had left it on the bar.

  “Now.” Jon lifted George’s arm from the grease and the flesh bubbled and just oozed off his bones, dripping into the hot oil and sizzling.

  It was traumatic, I wanted to vomit, but I didn’t. I hurried out of the kitchen, swiping up my phone without stopping, and I called for help.

  FIVE – MARY WELLS

  Can’t talk. My text to Connor read.

  Just tell me what happened.

  I can’t. It’s bad. I may go home. But I’ll stop by and tell you. Or call.

  You’re not making sense, Connor replied.

  Nothing is.

  It didn’t take long for help to arrive. But it seemed like forever. Of course, George had help. Jon was a doctor. I’m glad he was there, I wouldn’t have known what to do if it was just me.

  When I returned from the call, Jon had George on the floor, his head resting on Jon’s legs as he covered the arm with an apron.

  “They’re on their way,” I said. “Is that his apron?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Want me to find one that’s clean.”

  “It’s not gonna matter,” Jon spoke soft.

  I expect some sort of reaction out of George, but there was nothing. He just stared. “Is he?”

  Jon shook his head. “No. I don’t even think he’s in shock.”

  “Can I do anything?”

  “Go wait for help.”

  That was good enough for me and I left the kitchen again. I heard the sirens as soon as I stepped into the dining room. Chief Fisher raced into Reilly’s.

  “What’s going on?” he asked me. “What happened? The call was a severe burn.”

  “It’s worse than severe, Chief, if that’s possible. It’s George. He’s in the kitchen.”

  Chief Fisher didn’t wait for me to even explain what happened, he ran to the kitchen. Less than a minute later, the firefighters came in, then the paramedics.

  I didn’t want to be in the way, so I sat at the bar. That’s when I sent a text to Connor and Maranda. Both messages said the same thing, ‘Something bad happened at Reilly’s, hit me back when you can’, Connor got back to me right away.

  I wanted a drink, I wanted one badly. I even thought about going behind the bar for one. My hands shook out of control, my heart raced, it was singularly the worst thing I had seen in my life.

  It had to be a good fifteen minutes and I couldn’t figure out what was happening. Didn’t they want to get him to the hospital? Or life flight him to Knoxville?

  Finally, looking as if he too had been traumatized, Chief Fisher came from the back. Behind him was Jon.

  Chief shook his head and walked behind the bar. “He’s gone.”

  “Oh my God.” I dropped to a bar stool.

  The Chief grabbed a couple glasses and set them on the bar. “Doc?”

  “Please.”

  “Travis.”

  “Um … yeah, please.”

  “They’re gonna take him to the hospital, even though he’s gone. Fire crew is cleaning up.” Chief Fisher poured a shot worth in each glass. “I talked to his sister.”

  “Not his wife?” I asked.

  “No, um, Sadie is on shift at the hospital, his sister is going to go over and tell her. I just thought it would be better coming from family and not on the phone.” He slid the glasses our way. “Thank you for your help, Doc.”

  “Not a problem. I’m sorry, I couldn’t do more,” Jon said.

  “Would that Eastern medicine have helped?” I asked.

  “Nothing. I don’t even know how he was still standing. He pretty much lost most of his blood,” Jon replied.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  Chief answered. “Fire crew thinks he slipped. He tried to catch himself and went into the grease.”

  Jon hurried and finished his drink, setting down the glass when they paramedics came out with George’s covered body. “I’m going to go with them. So I can be there if his wife has any questions.”

  “We appreciate that Doc,” Chief said. “You don’t have to.”

  “I know. I want to.” He gave a pat to my back “Travis, call me if you need to talk. You have my number. Or just text me, if you want. Okay?”

  “Yeah, thank you.”

  He was a nice guy, genuine. He didn’t need to jump into action, but he did. I could tell by the Chief’s face he was waiting for everyone to leave. When they did, he poured more in my glass.

  “I’m driving,” I said.

  “Yes, well, that won’t raise your blood alcohol, not at your weight. And I won’t pull you over.”

  “Thanks. I need this and I am not a big drinker.”

  “I don’t think anything is making that go away.” Chief sipped his drink. “Travis.” He set down his glass. “I need you to get in touch with that doctor or epidemiologist you know. I really want to talk to him and get some answers.”

  “Answers to?” I asked. “Chief, you don’t think …”

  “I don’t know, Travis. I don’t know if this was ARC, but I do know this,” Chief said. “George didn’t fall into that grease.”

  <><><><>

  Maranda was always telling me my super memory was conditioned on things I wanted to remember. Like a phone number or a birthdate, or when the testing site gave me a list and four hours later I could recite it in order.

  The image of George’s arm would be embedded in my brain for the rest of my life. No matter how much I didn’t want to recall it.

  On the positive side, I remembered the epidemiologist well. He and I had talked a lot. I also remembered the number to his lab. His last name was Collins, but I just called him Richard. He was a nice guy, a family man who said everything he did, he did for the future of his kids and grandkids.

  Before I even left the parking lot of Reilly’s, I called him. He didn’t answer, I got his voicemail and left a message. I was certain he would call me back.

  There was a look of deep concern on Chief Fisher’s face that I hadn’t seen. It made me wonder if there were more people he knew about but just wasn’t saying.

  It w
as still early. I tried to call Maranda and she didn’t answer. The roads were starting to get bad so I left her a message to be careful. I didn’t want to say anymore, she probably was having fun with her friend about her painting and I didn’t want to ruin that.

  My appetite had completely left, but I knew I had to occupy my mind. I went back to the shop to drop off the invoice from Furniture Warehouse. I could have just held on to it, but a part of me wanted to talk about what I saw, what worried me.

  Connor was a friend.

  “Jesus, Travis, I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  “It was pretty bad.”

  “What happened?” Connor asked. “If he didn’t fall into the fryer. How the hell else did that happen?”

  “I think Chief thinks it was the ARC.”

  “ARC? Travis, I don’t recall ever hearing stories like this with the first round. Did you?”

  I shook my head. “No, it was memory, but what if he just forgot what he was doing? I mean, that’s possible, and then again, what if we just never heard the horror stories.”

  “His poor wife and kids.”

  “I know … Connor, I saw on the news there’s like close to twenty thousand people with it.”

  “How is that possible? There was the vaccine.”

  “Maybe they never got it,” I said. “I mean I remember Richard, that doctor, telling me twenty-percent of all people who could get it, didn’t.”

  “So the ARC makes a comeback and now they aren’t immune like the rest of us.”

  “Exactly. The guy at Reilly’s, he was a doctor, he said the vaccine caused this.”

  “Oh, nonsense.” Connor waved out his hand. “You know as well as I do, that’s not the case. These are people who didn’t get vaccinated.”

  “I hope you’re right. Well, I’m gonna head on home, maybe stop at the store. I’ll cook dinner for Maranda and the kids.”

  “They’ll like that,” Connor said. “Travis, keep me posted if you hear anything.”

  “I will.”

  I wanted to hear something, I was hoping my phone would ring. I kept checking it, wondering if it was even working.

  My mind kept going to George and the fact that if he did have ARC, the prospect of it was scary. I forgot how to tie my shoes and forgot what I had for lunch, I couldn’t fathom going into a state that put me or others into danger.