Surprise! This story has a secondary plot that weaves in and out! Jim Alden's story begins in 2077, the year the bombs fell.
Chapter 5 - More or Less
Jim Alden leaned over the back of the sofa, staring ahead to the television set with a grimace. He could barely believe what he was seeing anymore. Really, he shouldn't have been surprised. When he was a kid, he didn't think too much of it all. It just was how things were. He didn't even really notice much when the unpleasantness in Canada had begun just a few years back. But that was before he'd started college, and that's when his eyes had been opened. Now that the annexation was complete, things seemed to be unraveling faster and faster.
"Turn that noise down, James," Jim heard his mother order quietly from the hall, "Your sister is trying to rest."
"But ma—" Jim began to protest.
His mother poked her head into the doorway, shooting him a stern glance. He obediently moved around the sofa, turning the volume dial down a few notches. As he crouched before the set, he had to stop and stare at the screen once more. While watching the shaky footage of protesters being executed by a military firing squad, he felt a warm hand on his shoulder after a moment. Glancing up, he saw the troubled expression on his mother's face. He went to speak but was drawn back to the screen by successive pops of gunfire.
"...Don't sit so close to the screen," His mother said softly after a moment, "You'll harm your eyes."
"I don't care," Jim frowned, jaw clenching as a man's head was blown off, "...I gotta see this, ma."
"At least sit back," She insisted, and he scooted back until he sat on the sofa.
Though she didn't move to join him, his mother didn't leave the room either. The two sat in silence, hearing the screams and gunfire from the quiet television set. Every once in a while, the light of the screen would flash off of their faces in a particularly ominous way. It was solemn as the grave in that silence, words unable to properly capture the horror and the dread that they each felt.
But then the spell was broken as the news abruptly changed, with the grinning anchors telling a merry story about the upcoming Halloween festivities. As the man with his sparkling smile and perfectly-coiffed hair began to talk about the annual haunted house exhibit, Jim glanced over to his mother. Her weary eyes met his and an unspoken agreement passed between them.
"Your father will be home soon," His mother sighed, "I need to finish preparing supper."
"Sure, ma," Jim nodded, "Go ahead."
She looked ready to say something more, but didn't. Whatever it was, now wasn't the time. Instead she turned and wordlessly moved towards the kitchen. Jim watched her go from where he remained in the living room before looking back towards the television. Wrinkling his nose at the anchors' tasteless attempt to lighten the mood, he stood up and switched off the set. Their entire act was disingenuous, and there was nothing he hated more than liars.
No sooner had he done so than he heard the front door open. He perked up a bit at this, moving to the doorway. He watched his father take off his hat and coat, hanging them both on the coat rack.
"I'm home!" His father called out in greeting.
"Welcome home, dad," Jim said as he approached, half with a mind to buy his mom a few extra minutes, "Anything exciting happen at the lab today?"
"You know I can't tell you that, James," His father chuckled, "I promised not to share any of West-Tek's intellectual secrets."
"Shucks, dad, not even a little one?" Jim pleaded, "You don't have to tell me anything specific, and I won't tell a soul!"
"Well…" His father hummed.
"Please?"
"Alright," He finally relented, "I'll tell you one thing."
"Yeah?" Jim leaned forward expectantly.
"You know about the New Plague, of course?"
"Sure, the news is always talking about it," Jim nodded back towards the living room.
"Well, we've been working on a cure, and some of the fellas at the lab think we might be close to a breakthrough," His father said in a hushed voice.
"Really?" Jim raised his eyebrows, "You think I'll be able to go back to school soon, then?"
"Well, that's hard to say," His father frowned, stroking his chin thoughtfully, "Even if we do synthesize the cure soon, it'll take a while to produce and propagate nationally. At least another year or two."
"Shucks," Jim frowned, snapping his fingers.
"Don't worry, son," His father patted onto his shoulder, "You'll be able to see your friends again soon."
"I know," Jim sighed, "Still, I miss them."
"I know you do," His father patted once again, "But don't worry about that for now. Just concentrate on your studies."
"Yes, sir," Jim nodded, returning the small smile that his father gave him.
Both looked up towards movement as his mother appeared, peeking out of the doorway to the kitchen.
"Welcome home, Darren! Dinner's all set," She said with a smile before looking at Jim, "James, would you run upstairs and wake your sister?"
"Sure, ma," He nodded, moving to hustle up the stairs.
After giving a quick knock to his little sister's bedroom door, he cracked it open and peeked inside. The room was dim, the lights off, but the evening sky was still light enough to illuminate the room. He could see the small figure of his sister lying back in her bed.
"You awake, Viola?" He called to her softly.
"...Jim?" She responded drowsily, stirring below her blankets.
"Mom says to come down for supper," He said as he stepped forward.
The closer he drew to her bedside, the more Jim noticed her condition. She was pale yet her swollen face was flushed, and hair was matted to her sweaty forehead. What struck him most of all, though, were her glassy eyes.
"...You still got that cold, huh?" He continued quietly after a moment, setting his hand against her forehead, "Yeah, you're burning up."
"I hope it goes away soon," Viola said quietly, glancing aside, "Rosie and I were supposed to go trick-or-treating together…"
"I'm sure you'll be fine," Jim forced a smile, "You just gotta rest up more."
"But even after I sleep, I still feel tired."
"That's because your body is working real hard to fight off the germs," Jim explained, "You learned about white blood cells in school, right?"
"No," Viola frowned, looking back at him, "I've been too sick to go back to school."
"Oh, well, white blood cells are like your body's security guards," Jim explained, shadowboxing against the air, "They beat up the germs so you won't be sick anymore. And when you sleep, your body can focus on making more of them."
"I think my body's security guards are lazy, then," Viola sighed, "Because I've been sick since August, and it's already October."
Jim frowned, glancing down for a minute.
"Yeah, I know, Vi…" He mumbled before turning away, "I'll tell mom to let you sleep some more, okay?"
As he turned to leave, Viola grasped her clammy fingers on his wrist, making him turn back.
"...Jim?"
"Yeah?"
"Am I going to die?"
Frowning, Jim turned back towards her and knelt down beside the bed.
"Of course not, Vi," He said quietly, reaching out and smoothing her hair away from her face, "You'll be better before you know it."
"But what if it's the Plague?" Viola asked quietly.
"It isn't," Jim responded without hesitation.
"But—"
"It isn't," He repeated, "And you won't die."
Viola glanced aside, staring down at her blankets for a minute, before looking back up.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure," Jim smiled, "I'm gonna be a doctor, remember?"
"Like dad," Viola smiled back.
"Yeah, just like dad."
Viola was quiet for another minute, her eyes finding Jim's through the darkness.
"You promise I'll be okay?"
"I promise," Jim said, crossing over his heart.
"In time for Halloween?"
"Maybe," He chuckled, standing up, "If you go back to sleep, that is."
Viola snuggled back down into her bed and Jim took his leave from the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. A beat passed before he was able to release the doorknob. His mind swirled with overwhelming thoughts of self-loathing.
After all, there was nothing he hated more than liars.
