Plagues

Chapter 24

I got Darwin’s voicemail. I left him a message.

“Darwin, it’s me. I know you said don’t call you, you’d call me, but I have urgent news. I can’t explain over the phone, but I know the choice I have to make. Meet me at Nathan Phillip’s Square outside City Hall tomorrow evening at 5. I’ll explain then.”

I then called Kali. She picked up.

“Kali, it’s me,” I urgently started upon hearing the click of her answering her phone. “We have an emergency.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Meet me at Nathan Phillip’s Square tomorrow at 5.”

“Is Darwin gonna be there?”

“Yes.”

She steadily sighed.

“Okay,” she said, her voice trying to hold steady.

“It’s super important. Promise me you’ll be there.”

“I’ll be there, I promise.”

“Okay. I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay, bye.”

I hung up and removed the battery from the phone. I hustled out to the balcony, my dad coming into the living room from my parents’ room upon hearing the balcony door open.

“Al?”

I stepped outside on the balcony and catapulted my phone and the battery up, off, and away from the building. It sailed through the air, fell out of sight, and I could hear the tap of both objects exploding across the ground upon impact.

“Al! What the hell!?”

I felt my heart race, shocking my lungs into a pant. I turned to my dad.

“It wasn’t healthy anymore,” I said, feeling breathless.

“You need your phone!”

“Why? You and mom never contact me anyway, nor notice if I’m not in contact.”

“You better watch your tone.”

“No, I’ve earned this tone. The game’s changing, dad.”

I left my dumbfounded dad on the balcony and went back inside, sat on the couch, and turned on the TV to see the Prime Minister’s address still looping.

“With regards to the allegations that the virus mutated,” his recorded face said, “we can assure you there’s no new threats to public safety.”

True to their word, BIOTRANS relinquished use of the streets back to the general public the next morning. The streetcars glided by on the street below and regular traffic and activity started seeping back into the city’s veins as people returned to their routine. By noon, there were voices carrying passed my window, competing for air time against the rest of the general city ambiance. A warm breeze whispered it was all going to be okay.

At 4:15 that afternoon, I headed down to City Hall. Despite the fact we were entering into the regular rush hour period, the transit only had the volume of the middle of a chilly Sunday afternoon in January. I guess not everyone had adjusted. Most of the occupants in my subway car had either fallen asleep or were locked in a stare with the wall or their reflection in the window, their faces slightly blotched with residual terror. The men on the subway looked like they hadn’t shaved since the lock-down began. Upon feeling my face, I realized I hadn’t either. The prickly stubble had become a thin, furry facial scarf.