The Quarantine Chronicles: Day 1

It was clear that they wanted you to be afraid. There were extensive amounts of resources dedicated to that specific end. Every television, newspaper, online media outlet, and politician of note was in an outright campaign of fear. It wasn’t even subtle. Those that weren’t afraid were shunned for "not taking it seriously enough,” labelled as being insensitive to the death and suffering surrounding us. In fairness, many were suffering and dying though the attention seemed disproportionate to the numbers, but what did I know?

I personally tried to find my solace in research; the knowledge. Taking care to not listen to the alarmist. I knew as a healthy male between the of ages fifteen and forty my chances of infection and death were lower than the odds of dying in a car crash. That was a fact. Still, I was aware of others who didn’t fall into this range or whose current health condition made them susceptible. My father, whose heart was failing him, wouldn’t survive it if it got to him. I had hoped to see him one last time before he passed but that now seemed unwise. So, I sat helplessly, waiting for the call to tell me he was gone.

Every day the crowds on the train got thinner and thinner. The news reported the fear not the danger. A subtle enough difference on paper but playing out on a stage of twelve million the variance was drastic. The fear and the pressure caused most businesses that weren’t already closed to order employees to work from home; you were lucky if you had that option. Those that remained open having survived the first two waves of shutdown were ultimately taken out by the Government when they declared a state of emergency. Which was a fancy way of saying that they would be governing without the illusion of checks and balances. It was a term that usually ushered in a more totalitarian lifestyle. Within days of the announcement there were curfews, people were “aggressively” suggested to stay home, supermarkets were rationing out food. Police could stop anyone and ask for their clearance passes to be out in the street. One of the greatest, most vibrant cities in the world was reduced to a ghost town. Still to me, there was a sense of imbalance in the equation. A feeling that when you did the math something was missing.

I got a pass because of my job. I was a developer; a builder considered “Essential Personnel”, Classification “EP3”. A job you can’t really do from home and a job that was too important to arbitrarily shut down like they did in the first wave for everyone who worked in the theaters, clubs, restaurants, bars, gyms, and hotels. In an instant over a hundred thousand people, people who statistically live check to check, were unceremoniously laid off. Unemployment websites crashed due to the volume of applicants as the physical office no longer operated. As anyone would suspect, expect the Mayor apparently, the crime rate soon followed suit. I knew soon more people would die in robberies and home invasions than the infection would have killed. You see I’ve learned in any context or conversation; human nature will always be the deadliest thing in the sentence.

The effects of the fear offensive were striking. People in my own industry with E3 classification called out. Claiming illness or possible exposure just to stay at home. They were scared. And I guess they had every right to be, there was a lot of time and effort put into them being frightened, it would be almost rude to be indifferent.

I on the other hand was motivated by a feeling even stronger than fear. I was in love. When the infection hit, I was in the process of saving up enough money to start my life with the woman of my dreams. A life where everything I’ve done up until this point finally seemed like it served a purpose. A life where I could be happy. It was going to take a lot more than a fatal pandemic and worldwide panic to dissuade me from that. So, I woke up at the same time, rode the same train and did the same job. The more people called out, the more valuable I became. My talent was that I made money for people more powerful than the Mayor and with much deeper pockets.

As the streets and cafes emptied out, I was aware of this overwhelming sense of being alone. I watched how people just accepted whatever they were fed. They didn’t ask, they didn’t resist, they just herded. It made me feel like I had been born with a missing piece, something was in them that wasn’t in me. Add that to possibly the biggest proponent of my solitude; the fact that I hadn’t been able to see Sara, the woman that was the major shareholder of my every waking thought, since this all started. She was quartered off in the USE9 section of the city. With the quarantine regulations in place it might as well have been another state. The days dragged on without her, albeit with fewer people.

I arrived at the site the day after the third and final wave. Everyone on the site was wearing their M90 hepa-filter masks. Everyone except me. As a leader it is important not to show fear, to be a standing beacon regardless of what is going on inside. If you are not afraid, they are less afraid. If the Captain is scared the rest of ship is terrified.

“Where’s your mask boss?” The site safety manager asked. I ignored him, beginning the Monday morning round-up.

“There’s a lot of people home. A lot of people scared to come out. I know you’re here because you have families to feed. So I am. We are the lucky ones… we get to work and make money. “ I paused to let that part sink in. “Let’s do our jobs, be safe and go home. This is the last time we will have this meeting, all together like this. I will meet each foreman separately from now on. Mitch, our resident safety expert, will break up any groups over five people. No more than ten people to a floor. We have thirty-two floors so that shouldn’t be a problem. Plan accordingly. Let’s have a good day.”

The group dismissed without any fanfare and I made my way towards the field office.

“Why aren’t you wearing a mask, London?” I could hear the site safety manager calling behind me. I made it a point to walk fast but clearly not fast enough. “Your mask, London?” I ducked off behind a nearby partition and waited for him to follow.

“Hey!,” I hissed trying to stop anyone from hearing, “take that panic out of your voice. These guys are here because they can’t afford not to be. IF you can’t handle it then go home.”

The rest of the day was like any other without her; uneventful. All around me I could hear the panic in everyone’s voices. I was left again with the hollow of being truly alone. So many of the social distractions I had come to rely on to hide me from myself had been replaced by social distancing. My crutches of food, alcohol, entertainment had all been taken. Only the naked thought remained. I was by myself in a prison of my own mind and within it I saw for the first time how truly different I was. While everyone was wrapped up in their own problems engulfed in the rip tides of fright amid the herd mentality, I could almost feel myself standing still as the current flowed around me. Like a rock in the middle of running waters. I felt them rushing by me.

The phone beeped. It was Sara. Suddenly the water stopped.

‘Have time to meet up’ I read the words and for a minute I couldn’t remember what the big fuss was about.

‘Sure’

I made fun of myself at how quickly I responded. She sent a location to my phone. It was three zones away from her designated Quarantine Zone. What the hell was she doing there? It would be difficult to get through, but I could always explain it away if I was stopped. I had a brief thought of being practical, turning down the invitation and going straight home. Very brief.

---

The elevator only went to the top residential floor of the LSE building Sara gave him. There was no doorman and the entry door was busted so that anyone could walk in. I had to take the stairs for the last two flights up to the roof. I could hear someone on the other side. I pushed hard on the stubborn door.

The scene before me looked like many productions I’d seen just in a subdued filter. The rooftop party had all the necessities of a great event and yet all the tell-tale signs of something that shouldn’t be going on. The music was playing just loud enough where you could enjoy it but not loud enough where I could hear it on the floor below. Lights were strung about. Just enough to set the atmosphere but not enough to draw too much attention or bright enough to illuminate just how many people were there. The order came down banning groups of fifty or more initially before being changed to ten. There was at least five times that here. Complete with security guards and bartenders. I spotted Sara through the crowd at the far ledge looking down at what used to be the city and made my way over.

“Nice party.” I said.

“Why thank you.” She responded grinning. She seemed happy to see me and I could feel her smile giving me life.

“Pretty sure this is more than ten people” I pointed out.

She just smiled and gave me a hug. The aroma from her hair filling my nose. It smelled of peace. We looked down at what used to be our city.

“Quite a beautiful prison.” I said. She nodded. “So what’s going on here, Sara? You know the fine for stuff like this?”

“Lia and Diana there have been laid off without so much as a warning.” Sara said pointing to the two bartenders happily at work, “How are they supposed to buy food and pay rent. Plus Davis at the door has three kids. Not all of us are as lucky as you, London.”

I didn’t respond. I was lucky. Besides when Sara was helping others, she felt a true passion and fire in her. Not the best time to start a debate.

“I heard they shut you down too,” I changed direction. She nodded. “At least you can get a nice cut from this.” Sara grinned again.

“Well my cut is going to the elderly care center. Remember the one we walked passed a few months ago?”

I did remember but this annoyed me. At times, her selflessness although beautiful and inspiring was also frustrating to a man like me. It’s what made her incredibly attractive and incredibly frustrating at the same time. I thought in practical terms. My help was reserved for those in the circle closest to me and then diminished incrementally the farther you were away from me. Sara’s kindness was for the world. A world that I had long given up on. A world whose behavior during this crisis just solidified that philosophy more to me. However, it emboldened Sara and made her feel now was the time for her to step up even more because the help was needed. I knew deep down she was right, but I also knew when things got rough, I’d have enough to survive. I worried if Sara would too.

“So you know, that while I’m still working… I am here and I can help if things get tight –“

“Are you offering me money?!” She replied sharply. No signs of the smile that graced her face before. I knew she would dislike the offer, but the tone seemed harsher than I expected.

“Not money, any service that I can be.” I tried to backpedal.

“You should save that for your wife, shouldn’t you?” She knew using that word would get me angry. That’s why she did it.

“Sara, really?” She just looked at me. “Sara, I’ve never lied to you. No matter how hard the truth is. Don’t do that.”

“You think she’ll have dinner ready when you get home?”

Sara looked away when she said it. It was a low blow and she knew it. When the lockdown happened I’d found a second place for my ex-wife, Brittany. She was staying at her mothers' for most of the time until the move. She stayed at the house for two days prior packing. The lock down happened on the second day and we’d been stuck together in the same house with my brother who was helping us move every since.

“Sorry.” Sara said. Another thing that made her irresistible, she could react rashly but she would catch herself within seconds. “I’m actually glad that you don’t have to be away from your daughter for long.”

“Don’t worry Sara. This will be over soon and we can be how we were in Boston.”

“Listen, London.” Sara started, a genuine look in her eyes, “it was beautiful a dream. You and I. Too good to actually be, if we’re honest. Your family needs you and I’m just a distraction. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted this as much as you did but I won't be the woman who comes between your family, I couldn’t look myself in the mirror as a woman. This event has put things in perspective for me.”

“Sara-“

“No, London. Please get a couple of drinks and donate to the cause and then go be with your family.”

My upper body was as empty as the city street below me. Vaguely I could feel my heart somewhere around my feet struggling to re-enter the chest cavity she had just blown a hole through.

Sara began to walk away. I quickly picked up my heart from the ground with one hand and grabbed her arm with the other pulling her close.

I kissed her and she kissed me.

“You want to know why I got up this morning?” I said pulling away, “I want to make a life for us. I can provide for my daughter and her future on the quarantine protocol salary. I got up this morning because you keep telling me ‘Be happy London’, ‘ you can be happy.’ Well unfortunately for us, the only way that I’m happy is with you.” I released her arm. She didn’t move. I took a breath. “One day I won't be here. If this has taught us anything it's that old age is not reliable. When my time comes I want my daughter to remember me as a happy man, a positive man… I want her to have memories of her father in love. Not memories of her father bickering with her mother every day. Ok?”

“Okay,” Sara said quietly.

“So I will walk through this infection and swim through the ocean of panic for us. Until we are there. You understand?”

“Yes,” she said. I kissed her again. I bought a couple of drinks and stayed for a bit more before leaving.

On the way out I noticed that the foyer light had blown out. I shook my head. Unless the building had a live-in Super it would continue to fall apart. I heard a noise in the darkness as I made my way out of the building. As I turned, there was a flash of light in the corners of my vision, then a sensation of weightless falling as everything went black.