The Heart of Life Doesn't Beat

Chapter One

So, this is chapter one. I hope you enjoy :D

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 The dinner table was unnervingly silent, the air so clouded and thick with anxiety that you could probably cut it with a knife. From the far end of the mahogany table, my dad sits. From a distance, he is still, calm, and collected but I know him at least well enough to know he’s shaking. I watch in hushed judgment as he takes a steak knife to his veal, hand vibrating with soft and erratic movements. I try not to think about it when he chomps down on the young cow’s meat. The disturbing sound of teeth scraping on the metal of the fork fills the room for a second, than is replaced by the even worse sound of chewing soft, squishy animal.

            “So,” my dad begins. I knew this was coming—the small talk... I had just hoped it wouldn’t arrive anytime soon. I suck in a breath.

            I look up, my face a blank canvas. It’s always like this now—my dad and I alone during dinner, ever since Mom was sent to bed rest because of the baby.

            “Hunter, Dr. Blair called today. He explained to me in…” he pauses, searching for the right words “excellent detail that Mara is doing quite well.” He coughs on the veal as he swallows greedily. Picking up another large chunk, he brings it to his mouth and hesitates. Raising an eyebrow, he asks, “You sure you’re not hungry, son?” I can see the blood oozing though his teeth when he talks.

            “No thanks.” I say, my voice sounding raw and deep from not having used it for at least an hour. He shrugs awkwardly. I glower at him—at my so called dad. He doesn’t even know I don’t eat meat.

            The room goes back to its safe zone of silence. Abruptly, my dad claps once, demanding the name of our head maid, Jeanette. As the jaded looking blond maid snaps up and glides over to my dad to retrieve his now empty plate, I rise.

            “May I be excused?” I mumble. Silence again… My dad nods sharply. As I walk to the den, my mind begins to wander. I think about my dad, and how he doesn’t know me in the least. I think about my mom, sick and bedridden, dying from my sister inside her that I never asked for. The baby was a mistake—Dad told me so. He explained to me how, if not for the outbreak, my sister would not be there, still growing in my mom. I groan as I reach the den. I slip down onto one of the leather chairs by the great fireplace. If not for the outbreak, my mom would be fine. If not for the outbreak, there wouldn’t be a baby inside her causing both of them to grasp at the short straws of hope. If not for the outbreak, my mom wouldn’t be dying.

            I sigh and flick on the large television that is mounted above the burning fire. I change it to the news where a story about my family is being discussed. “The Grove family is risking it all—life and death—for the hope of a better future. As all of us know, the outbreak of the mysterious illness known only as the ‘Fertility Virus’ has been eating away at the very essence of America since about six and a half months ago.” The reporter is a pretty blond lady with a dazzling smile.

There is a picture in the upper right corner of my mom before the pregnancy, healthy. The reporter continues on with news about my mom, “Mara Grove, wife to Johnson Grove and mother to Hunter and soon-to-be Rosa Grove, has been bedridden for seven months.  On December 19 Mara is due to give birth to baby girl Rosa. We all hold in our hearts hope for this new generation and possibly last chance for survival of the human race. Mara managed to get pregnant just before—.” I shut off the T.V.