Decrease

Wednesday - September 22

Ted gets up from his chair and opens the closet door. I watch him remove some office supplies, and other nonessential items, until he has everything from one shelf removed. I then hear a clank and then a loud scraping noise. Ted says, "Follow me, John."

Still sitting, I ask, "Follow you where, Ted? Into the closet?"

"Yes," he replies.

Curious and unsure, I slowly rise from my chair and cautiously walk to the closet where Ted stands in the doorway, waiting. I can't help but wonder what's going to happen when I reach the closet; especially to me.

I peer into the closet and notice a long hallway leading to infinity. "What the hell!" I shout. "I've been here, for God knows how long, and no one, not anyone, has ever told me about this, Ted. But that's okay, I guess. I'm only the damn CDC head scientist and acting director!"

"John, please, you've got to stop the dramatics. We, all of us, are out of time. You must do your part, and now, or you can kiss your ass goodbye. The choice is yours."

"Oh, now, I have a choice!"

"You've always had a choice, John. But the decisions were made by others."

I give Ted a cold, hard stare; but yet, I feel that he's sincere and that he's not bullshitting me.

"I'm sorry, Ted. I do want to help. But lately, I've been so helpless, that it feels as if I'm going out of my mind, and I don't know what to do anymore."

"I know, John. But trust me. You must trust me, and then soon your mind will be right as rain, and more."

"More?"

"More. Come on, let's go."

So, without any resistance, I follow Ted down the long, dark secret hallway within the CDC walls.

_________________________________

Atlanta's population is dwindling. When chaos had shit a brick ten days ago, people were slogging through life the best way they knew how. Then the plague worsened, and everyone, not just the poor and wealthy, everyone's life style changed to survive, or die. There were no other choices.

The weather's been calm since the blizzard of four days ago. The Sun shines brightly, unaware of Earth's problems and catastrophes. Mother Nature continues to march on, while humanity continues to screw up everything, causing their demise every damn time.

Bachman's Sparrows are the only creature in flight, blanketing the blue sky with artistic lines, circling joyously in the warm Sun, chirping cheerfully, celebrating the freedom of free flight that many of God's creatures are unable to enjoy.

The glistening snow, the chirping of birds, the crunching of footsteps in the snow by survivors barely hanging on, due to the lack of food and water, demonstrates the wonder of how beauty can easily be associated with death. Death doesn't always have to be connected to ugliness; on the contrary, death by its own rules, can and will connect to anything, whether it is beauty or ugliness. Death will do what it wants, when it wants, without feeling any guilt or remorse, for anything or anyone. Death conveys the illusion that it is the final say and nothing can stop it. Death creates a false hope that everything and everyone dies by the hand of death; which, by the way, is the finale of it all. Little did death know that man has more ingenuity, and a hell of a lot more scheming than death itself.

To cheat death by freezing the dead and magically reviving them through a process of using five "charms" is unimaginable. But it's not. The five "charms" exist, and apparently they work, since Georgia and I are alive. How they work, I do not know. How have we cheated death? That's easy; by becoming death itself. We have made death an entity that no longer has control; but instead, is now controlled by the one thing it pursues the most – humans. Humans have become death, and God. Which is worse?