PLAGUE TIME
Copyright © 2020 by Thomas McNulty
Flash Fiction to cheer you all up (He said sarcastically)
Richard and Pamela sat near the bay window and watched the sun-soaked July street. Richard held his cell phone and thumbed through Facebook while Pamela sipped her tea and idly gazed down the street at a smudge of blue on the curb. Crows flitted about near the rumpled pile of blue. The tea was very good this morning, she thought.
Richard paused, set his phone on the tea table and plucked a colorful sugar cookie from the silver platter. He munched the cookie, keeping his mouth closed to muffle the smacking sounds. The cookies were quite good. He dabbed his mouth with a dainty napkin. Suddenly, he coughed twice. Pamela stared at him a moment.
“Martial law has been extended.” He said. “This might well last until early September.”
“Yes, I read on the newsfeed the Kardashians are having their butts set in plaster and then painted as part of an art exhibit once martial law is lifted.”
“Lots of bathroom mirror photos with that group.” Richard said.
“I counted seventy-five complainers on Facebook this morning.”
“You’d think people would find better things to do with their time.”
“I’m afraid this plague is the best thing to happen.” Pamela was stoic as her gaze once again drifted down the street to the smudge of blue. “You’ll remember, of course, the Harrington boy.”
“Of course. He was a fine little boy. Billy, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, little Billy. Well, the crows are at him today. The debris retrieval units haven’t picked him up yet.”
“We can report that.” Richard said, suddenly feeling indignant. “You mustn’t stare out the window if the streets aren’t clean. That won’t do you any good.” Richard coughed again, holding his palm to his mouth.
“Have some tea.” Pamela said.
“Perhaps in a moment. I was reading about another celebrity singing on Facebook. They sing in their bathrooms. It’s supposed to make lower income families feel better.”
“Do you think it works?”
Richard coughed and finally reached for the tea. He took a sip from the cup and smacked his lips. “I’m sorry. What was that, dear?”
“The singing celebrity. Does it make lower income people feel better?”
“I can’t imagine how it could. The celebrity mask allocation is in the higher percentage. They have catered nurses and physicians.”
Pamela glanced out the window again. “The Harrington’s didn’t qualify. The father lost his job six months ago.”
Richard paused and looked out the bay window. “It’s warm today. Little Billy was the last Harrington wasn’t he?”
“Yes, I’m sad to say he was. He dropped right there, and now the crows are at him.”
“That won’t do at all.”
Pamela was thoughtful a moment. “If he had made it to our door we couldn’t have let him in.”
“Oh, no.” Richard said quickly. “Our mask allocation wouldn’t accommodate a third person. Remember, the pack must survive. The government says that means making hard choices.”
“Let’s not think about it any longer.” Pamela said.
Pamela shifted in her chair and looked in another direction. It was a lovely day. Richard coughed again as she watched a light breeze ruffle the maple tree branches. Nothing else happened except the street and the empty homes and green yards all looked beautiful. The pack must survive, indeed.
An hour later, Richard was coughing in fits and starts. That’s unfortunate, Pamela thought. The tea would help a little but he was coughing too much. They didn’t talk about it, and Richard remained fixated on Facebook.
The day stretched into incremental moments of inactivity and memories. It was nice to think about how it was, Pamela thought. It won’t be that way again, but it was still nice. Richard’s coughing was too much. His face was red. The poor man. She waited another hour, thinking about the past. Then she rose, and stepped across the room to the maple cabinet where Richard kept the old Webley .38 revolver. Richard had taught her how to use it all those years ago during the first plague. The weight of the gun in her hand was reassuring.
She shot Richard in the back of the head. He slumped over and twitched. After the gunshot’s echo subsided, she was thinking what a terrible mess she had to clean up. Fortunately, they’d been allocated extra bleach and antiseptic wipes. The extra food they’d hoarded would come in handy now, as well. She cleaned the carpet first. She enjoyed sitting near the bay window and she wanted to keep that area clean.
It took the remainder of the day to wrap his body in the tarpaulin, but Pamela was in good shape, and she paced herself properly. No sense getting emotional. Once the body was wrapped, she pulled Richard by his ankles to the side door and deposited him near the trash bin which was scheduled for debris retrieval in three days. She reminded herself to send an email asking that they pick up the Harrington boy as well. It just wouldn’t do to have all of these bodies lying around.
Pamela felt emboldened. She had important things to do now that she benefitted from a double allocation. It was twilight and the trees along the street looked so lovely in the fading light. She picked up Richard’s cell phone and began scrolling through the latest gossip, feeling that she would honor his memory in this way. There were always lots of cheeky things to look at on Facebook. She would be fine, she thought, really fine, but maybe a little sad.
An hour later, she coughed.
**
Copyright © 2020 by Thomas McNulty
Keep smiling you lovelies!
