GROUND ZERO CITIZEN – Seven
Terrence believed, that how his daughters lived and survived the rest of their lives depended on what they learned and saw in the aftermath of what happened. In the days following; did they see hate, or desperation? Did they learn humanity and strength? He tried to instill values in them to make them strong, and to teach them selfishness isn’t always the best way to stay alive. Terrence quickly learned that.
He went into the garage caring only about his family and himself, and within hours he saw those around him as human beings.
A lot of that had to do with Keith, who even nearly a week later, hadn’t changed his tune. He was stubborn and mean, selfish and starving. His wife was so weak, each day Terrence expected her to die.
For the most part, with the exception of a respiratory infection those who remained in the shelter were healthy.
His own family held up well. His mother ate very little giving most of her rations to the girls. Terrence begged her not to do that, but she didn’t listen. Mylena and Kira were her babies. She loved them more than life itself.
Each day Terrence made it a point to sit with his daughters individually, give them time, talk to them and teach them something. They were opposites. Mylena at ten was smart and quiet. She worked on a quilt made up of seat covers, it was her new daily project. She didn’t play with the other children. That was really never her thing. Terrence talked about different recipes he had made. Explaining how he cooked them and told how each had a story behind it. Like the time he met the television chef and showed him how to make a good wing sauce.
Mylena had patience and could listen to her father for hours.
Kira, on the other hand was a typical child of eight with a short attention span. Except when it came to her made up games, which she played often. Each day she’d think of something new to play. Her newest game was bowling. She used empty water bottles as pins and a large empty fruit cocktail can as the ball.
He talked to the girls each morning, afternoon and evening, savoring his time with them.
Terrence didn’t know how much time he had left.
He was sick, very sick, in a way he never thought was possible. He tried his hardest not to let his girls see and was grateful that it was dark on that level of the garage.
Even though the temperature was warm, Terrence dressed in thick layers. He shivered a lot and he needed to cover his back. The minor burns there didn’t heal, within three days they blistered then bled. Now his skin was peeling from the wounds. His arms and neck were discolored with splotches, blisters formed in the corner of his mouth and he wore a baseball cap to cover his splotched hair loss.
“Baby, please lay down,” Macy told him. “Please. You cannot keep going like this.”
“I have to. I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.”
“It’s okay to be sick. It really is.”
Terrence shook his head.
“You’re still the strongest man I know.”
Terrence knew his mother heard their conversation. Her eyes were dark and sad. He was her son and he knew his sickness was killing his mother.
He walked over to her and sat down by her. She grabbed his hand.
“You do what you need to do,” she told him. “I am so proud of you. I really am.”
“I wish I could do more.”
“You’ve done enough. Have you eaten?”
“Mom, I can’t keep anything in, or down.”
She took a deep breath through her nostrils and tapped their joined hands. “When I did my daily walk I was talking to Marge over there. She said, from what she read before, we should be able to leave the shelter tomorrow for fresh air. Even if only for a little bit. The hospital is only eight blocks from here. You should go there. Maybe they can give you something?”
“I doubt it, but I’ll think about it.”
“Good.”
Terrence’s eyes strayed across the garage to Keith. “What is he up to?”
Keith was pacing around his car, looking at everyone, then back to his car. Then he looked at Terrence.
“He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s starving.”
After she said that, Terrence looked at him. Keith was gaunt and acting antsy. His wife barely moved as she sat sideways in the car. Terrence stood up and walked over to the blue Toyota where they kept the supplies. He grabbed a package of crackers and a can of tuna.
“What are you doing?” Murph asked.
“We are using his water from the boiler. This is not the world we will rebuild. We don’t let people starve. Even if they are assholes.” Food in hand, Terrence walked over to Keith’s car.
“What? What do you want? Keith snapped.
He set the food on the trunk. “Feed your wife. This is insane. Eat something.”
Then Terrence walked away. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to say anymore, he actually wanted to respond to Keith when Keith muttered something. However, Terrence didn’t hear him. He was too consumed with the feeling of nausea and stomach cramps that took over his thoughts and attention.
He did what he normally did when that happened.
Terrence moved calmly to the stairwell and once inside, he stopped, hunched over, waited for the current wave of ‘sick’ to subside and then with all the energy he could, he walked to the main floor of the building.
More than anything, Terrence wanted to make a bed on the carpet just outside the men’s restroom, but he couldn’t, even though he had gone up there many times. It was another way he covered up how sick he was.
No one went up there. They used the makeshift potty created in the other stairwell. It was a good thing, because it was horrendous in that men’s room.
The second Terrence opened that door he was blasted with a putrid odor. One he had created over the course of a few days. The smell didn’t help his control, and he flew into the first stall. It was a bend over then sit situation, he hurled what little contents that were in his stomach, then before his gut screamed out of control, he hurriedly sat down to allow his bowels to violently cramp out all that they could.
He felt as if he were going to pass out, with a faint feeling he swiped the back of his hand over his mouth.
That was when he saw it.
Blood.
He was vomiting blood.
“Jesus, I’m dying.” Terrence closed his eyes.
How much more could he take?
He stayed there a few minutes trying to regain his strength, then when finished, he washed his hands with sanitizer, put on his strong front and headed back to the stairs.
He was midway down when he heard the shouts and screams.
Murph was arguing with someone. Angrily, too.
A single gunshot energized Terrence and he raced down the steps. When he emerged into the garage he saw Keith walking backwards, holding a bag and aiming his gun.
“I won’t miss next time,” Keith said.
“Terrence,” Murphy called out, holding on to his bleeding head. “He took food. He got his gun.”
Terrence spun and started to run toward Keith’s car.
Keith opened the driver’s seat, tossed in the bag and aimed the weapon at Terrence. “I will shoot you. The safety is off.”
Just as he decided he didn’t care if he got shot, Terrence barreled forward and Keith jumped in his car.
The only working car.
He turned over the engine and just as Terrence arrived, Keith pulled out in reverse.
That was when Terrence saw… Kira.
Kira wasn’t far away. She stood by her little water bottle bowling set up and was totally unaware what was coming her way.