Tales of Virusgeddon: Charles Abigail Romanov Part IV

Charles Abigail Romanov Part IV- Final
Part of the Virusgeddon series of stories

It ain’t fair. It really ain’t. Hunter has a headache, eyes aren’t dilating quite right, been strangely irritable all day. First signs of the change to manimal. Hopefully this is a quick one. I wake up Jack and Jasmine so that they can say their goodbyes, to watch somebody they love lose their humanity. That’s one of the peculiarities of this new world we live in. It’s considered respectful to watch them descend instead of killing them outright. Hunter has more than pulled his weight around here, often taking a double shift to comfort his sister when she’s scared. The kid deserves every scrap of time he has left. When he’s all good and tied up, he tries his best to break the bindings. When they hold, he looks satisfied.

“Good work Chuck” he praises, as if I were the child and he were the adult. “Promise to take care of my sister and my daddy? You’re like my mom was. You’re strong, you get stuff done. You like to act all tough, but you’re a good person, I know it.” What could I say to that?

“Yeah, sure kid. You’re pretty cool too.” I was almost crying. Damnit, i’ve only known this kid, what, a week and i’m tearing up for him. This is the reason I didn’t take anybody in, why I stayed by myself. It’s easy to dehumanize people when you don’t live with them, to keep your distance. Your typical conversation at The Market would often be“Oh, so Joe Schmoe finally went manimal? That’s a real shame, hope it was a quick change. See you next week.” Maybe it’s cause he was just a kid, maybe it’s because he has a family and most of these assholes are by themselves, maybe cause he’s like a mini-version of my best friend on the streets. Or it’s all of that. I walk up to Jack. “Say your goodbyes, i’ve got a prayer book tucked away somewhere in here.” Jack raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. As I left the room he gave me a grateful look. I wanted to give them some alone time together. There are certain things you just don’t say around non-family.

I waited an hour and went back into the room with prayer book and pistol in hand. Gimme a trenchcoat and a cowboy hat and I could have been on a poster for that Book of Eli movie. There seemed to be no change in Hunter’s condition. Shit. You’d usually know in the first hours after the headaches start how quick the change was going to be. If the victim is forgetful and almost incoherent, he or she probably only has a few hours. Slurring, maybe half a day. I questioned him on some mathematics, a test I had given all three of them when I let them into my house. His answers came quickly and accurately. Absolutely no change. Looks like this is going to be one of the slow ones.

Jack and I kept watch while Jasmine slept, trading jokes with Hunter, trying to keep his spirits up. I gave him his first sip of alcohol. Strangely enough, he liked whiskey the best out of all the booze I had. I applauded his good taste and had a bit myself. All of us a little tipsy, Jack started telling his kid some of the most hair-raising jokes he knew. Even I blushed a bit at some of the jokes he was telling his own son! Being a preteen boy though, Hunter was in stitches the entire time. When everything calmed down a bit, Hunter asked “What was my father like on the streets? Tell me the funniest story you know about him.”

I look at Jack, he looks a bit apprehensive, but gives me a thumbs up. This cracks me up, since just an hour ago he was telling this kid the one about the guy and the sheep! “Ok, so we all know your dad was a heroin addict, right?” they nod. “Well, one time your old man found a kitten in a box somewhere, just a little stray. Somehow, even though he didn’t even know where he was half the time, he managed to keep the damn thing alive!” Hunter chuckled at that. “ So, a year later the thing is a full-grown cat. Not too big mind you, but not the starving thing it was when he found it. Some time, I don’t know when, he trained the thing to sit on his head! He would wear a beanie and the cat would sink its claws in, anchoring itself on there while he walked down the street with a cup in his hands, asking for donations for ‘Mister Whiskers, Lord of the Universe’. He was dead serious too. Built a little shrine for the thing and became the pope of the “Church of Whiskerism”. I never had a bigger laugh in my life!” Both Hunter and Jack were in tears at this point they were laughing so hard.

“What happened to the cat?” Hunter asked, seeming a bit glassy-eyed
“That’s the thing. He just disappeared one day. I figure he was killed.” Then I said in a somber tone. “Your old man insisted that Ol’ Whiskers ascended to the heavens in preparation for the apocalypse.”

Jack butted in at this point. “And I was right! Do you see cats being affected by this virus? Hell no. There are so many around this damn city now you can’t walk 5 feet without tripping over one.” It was true. There were so many feral cats around this city these days that cat meat is the most common form of meat we have. One guy even wrote a cat cook book! Some resisted at first, but a man’s gotta eat and cat tastes GOOD!

“May the lurrd whishkersh blesh ush.” Jack and I traded a look. Second stage, slurring words, eyes glazing over. He doesn’t have much time. We woke up Jasmine, she cried a bit when we explained what was happening, but put on a brave face for her brother. When we all gathered around Hunter, even in his befuddled state, knew what was going on. A few hours later, the raving started.

It was horrible. Crying one moment, raging the next, his words almost incoherent. He blamed God, his mother, Jack, and finally me

“You monnsshtr, you torld me we werrra gonna be ok. You wold be f-fuh-firsht to go away. You kuld my mommy. yer gonna kul my daddy and shishter too. Go ahead, i f-f-fucking hate you all! JUSH-bblbllbblah blha hrblrbla.” It went downhill from there. When a person starts making manimal noises, it usually means full transformation. Crying, I hand Jack the gun. He aims at what used to be his son and fires.