Tallahassee, United States
7:35 a.m., August 23, 2010
Jason prepared himself for his final days of normalcy.
In practice, that meant doing what any teenager would do on an ordinary Monday.
Take a shower.
Get dressed for school.
Go downstairs for breakfast.
Grab his backpack.
Board the bus.
But nothing felt ordinary.
The conversation with Robert.
The fear in Jennifer’s eyes.
The pistol hidden in his bedroom.
The boxes in the warehouse.
The deliveries that had to arrive before the twenty-fifth.
All of it weighed on Jason’s mind as he walked toward the bus stop.
When the yellow vehicle stopped in front of him, he took a deep breath before climbing aboard.
Inside, the bus smelled the same as always.
Old seats.
Cheap perfume.
Notebooks.
Sleepy teenagers complaining about Monday.
Normalcy.
Or at least an imitation of it.
Jason walked down the aisle and went directly to Todd.
His friend sat in his usual place near the back, staring out the window.
Jason stopped beside him.
“We need to talk about your mother.”
Todd didn’t immediately turn around.
He continued looking outside.
Jason frowned.
“Todd?”
His friend took a deep breath and moved his backpack off the seat beside him, making room.
Jason sat down.
Neither of them spoke for several seconds.
The bus began moving again, and the rumble of the engine filled the silence between them.
Jason lowered his voice.
“I thought about it last night.
If your mother is at Saint Augustine Medical Center, we need to determine the hospital’s condition before we do anything.”
Todd remained silent.
“We can’t simply walk inside and take her,” Jason continued.
“We need to know whether visitors are still being admitted, how many security guards are there, whether they’ve started isolating patients, whether—”
“I told Heather.”
Jason stopped.
Todd’s voice had been quiet.
Emotionless.
As though he had been holding the confession inside since Jason boarded the bus.
“You told her?”
Todd nodded, still looking through the window.
“After the game.
She realized I was acting strangely and asked what you had told me.”
Jason felt his stomach tighten.
“Did you tell her everything?”
Todd finally looked at him.
His eyes were tired.
“Not everything, but enough.”
Jason didn’t respond.
Todd released a weak, humorless laugh.
“She didn’t believe me.”
That didn’t surprise Jason.
Even so, it hurt.
“What did she say?”
Todd rubbed a hand over his face.
“She said you were messing with my head.
That I was upset because of my mom.
That maybe you were exaggerating something to convince me to follow your plans.”
Jason lowered his eyes.
He couldn’t blame Heather.
If someone had told him the same thing a week earlier, he would have called it insane too.
“She said dead people don’t get back up,” Todd continued.
“That no government could hide something this big.
That if it were real, it would be in every newspaper.”
Jason looked through the window.
The world outside remained peaceful.
Houses.
Lawns.
Cars.
People going to work.
That was precisely what made everything so difficult to believe.
Todd clenched his fists against his knees.
“I wanted to agree with her.”
His voice grew quieter.
“I really did.”
Jason looked at him.
Todd held his gaze.
“But I believe you.”
Jason remained silent.
For a moment, he didn’t know what to say.
Todd took a deep breath.
“Not because any of this makes sense.
It doesn’t.
It’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”
He briefly looked away.
“But you weren’t lying yesterday.”
Jason felt his throat tighten.
“Todd…”
“I saw your face, man.”
Todd shook his head.
“In the locker room.
On the field.
After the game.
You were afraid.”
He swallowed hard.
“And I’ve never seen you afraid like that.”
The bus passed over a speed bump, making several students farther ahead complain.
No one was paying attention to them.
To the rest of the world, it was merely another school morning.
To Jason and Todd, it was a countdown.
“Then tell me what we’re going to do,” Todd said.
His voice faltered slightly.
“Because if my mother is inside that hospital…”
He didn’t finish.
He didn’t need to.
Jason took a deep breath.
“First, you need to determine exactly where she is.
Her wing, room number, the doctors’ shifts—anything you can find out.”
Todd slowly nodded.
“I can call her.”
“If she answers.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
Jason took a moment to respond.
“Then we’ll go there after school.”
Todd turned toward him.
“We?”
Jason nodded.
“I said I would help you.
I’m not going back on my word.”
Todd watched him for several seconds.
The distrust remained.
His anger hadn’t completely disappeared either.
But something new now existed between them.
A fragile alliance.
Built not on blind trust, but on shared fear.
“Heather is going to think we’ve lost our minds,” Todd murmured.
Jason released a breath that almost sounded like laughter.
“Maybe she’s right.”
Todd didn’t smile.
“Don’t say that.”
Jason became serious again.
“Sorry.”
Through the window, Jason watched the building appear in the distance.
Students walked across the parking lot.
Teachers entered carrying cups of coffee.
The football field stood empty in the background, as though the previous night had been only a dream.
Jason tightened his grip on his backpack strap.
The school was still there.
The hallways would still be crowded.
Classes would still take place.
Teachers would still demand assignments.
And everyone would continue pretending that the world wasn’t two days away from changing forever.
Todd looked at him one last time before the bus stopped.
“After school.”
Jason nodded.
“After school.”
The doors opened.
Students began climbing off, laughing, complaining, and shoving one another.
Jason stood alongside Todd.
As they walked off the bus, he realized that this might be one of the last times he entered that school as an ordinary student.
Even knowing that, he still needed to pretend.
Pretend that tests mattered.
Homework.
Practice.
Gossip.
Everything that might cease to exist within a few days.
Because normalcy was still breathing.
But Jason knew the truth.
It was already dying.
After school, Jason didn’t head directly to Saint Augustine Medical Center.
Todd noticed when he walked in the opposite direction from the school’s main exit.
“The bus stop is that way,” Todd said.
Jason kept walking.
“I know.”
Todd frowned.
“Then where are we going?”
“To the station.”
“The station?”
“Before we go to the hospital, I need to show you something.”
Todd didn’t like the answer.
Since their conversation on the bus, he had spent the entire day trying to act as though everything were normal.
He tried to pay attention in class.
He tried to respond whenever Heather spoke to him.
He tried not to check his phone every five minutes while waiting for a call from his mother.
But it was impossible.
His mother was at Saint Augustine Medical Center.
And unlike Eleanor Tyler, she wasn’t there as a doctor or researcher.
She was a patient.
Cancer.
The word had already been heavy before.
Now, with the world about to collapse, it seemed like an even crueler sentence.
“Jason…” Todd said tensely.
“This won’t take long.”
Todd clenched his jaw but didn’t argue.
They walked to the station nearest the school and boarded the subway line running through that part of Tallahassee.
The car was half full.
Students.
Workers.
A woman carrying grocery bags.
A man reading a newspaper as though the world still had many ordinary days ahead of it.
Jason held an overhead rail and remained silent throughout most of the journey.
Todd stood beside him, restless, tapping one foot against the floor at every stop.
When they got off, Todd looked around.
“The hospital is still several stops away.”
“I know,” Jason replied.
“Then why did we get off?”
Jason pointed toward a side street.
“Because the warehouse is only a few minutes from here.”
Todd turned toward him.
“Warehouse?”
Jason didn’t immediately respond.
He simply started walking.
A few minutes later, they arrived outside a warehouse surrounded by high walls.
The metal gate looked old but sturdy.
The building wasn’t attractive.
It didn’t draw attention.
Perhaps that was precisely why Jason had chosen it.
Todd stopped on the sidewalk.
“What is this place?”
Jason pulled a key from his pocket.
“A storage facility.”
“Yours?”
“Rented.”
Todd stared at him.
“You rented a warehouse?”
Jason unlocked the padlock and pushed the metal gate open.
Its creaking echoed along the nearly empty street.
Then he led Todd into the yard.
The warehouse was larger inside than it had appeared from the street.
And it was no longer empty.
Boxes were arranged in rows near the walls.
Some bore labels handwritten by Jason.
Robert had marked others.
Water.
Food.
Clothing.
Tools.
Blankets.
Equipment.
Medical supplies.
Todd stopped at the entrance.
His expression changed.
Until that moment, part of him had still seemed to resist truly believing.
But seeing everything organized, tangible, and waiting stripped away some of that resistance.
“Damn…” he murmured.
Jason closed the gate behind them.
“My house would’ve become too crowded.
And I didn’t want everything stored in one place.”
Todd walked several steps inside, looking around.
“You did all this in a week?”
“Part of it.”
Jason pointed toward several larger boxes.
“My father brought a lot of this here today.”
He paused.
“Donald helped too.”
Todd turned toward him.
“Melody’s father?”
Jason nodded.
“He obtained medical supplies.
Dressings, antiseptics, gloves, masks, saline solution, and some basic hospital equipment.
It still isn’t enough, but it’s a beginning.”
Todd looked at the boxes again.
His expression became more serious.
“Then he believes you too.”
“He believes enough to help.”
Todd released a dry, humorless laugh.
“Heather thinks you’re manipulating me.”
He looked around the warehouse.
“This doesn’t look like mere talk.”
Jason didn’t answer.
He simply walked toward a more secluded area of the building.
It was a clean corner near one of the side walls, separated from the rest of the warehouse by several empty metal shelving units.
There was enough room for a folding bed, medical boxes, and a few personal belongings.
Jason stopped there.
“This is why I wanted to come here first.”
Todd slowly approached.
Jason pointed toward the space.
“If we manage to get your mother out of the hospital, we can bring her here.”
Todd stood motionless.
The word mother seemed to steal his breath.
“It isn’t perfect.
But it’s close to my house.
It has walls and a secure gate.
We can control who comes and goes.
And Donald can help us prepare this corner properly.”
Todd stared at the empty space.
For a moment, Jason watched his friend trying to imagine his mother there.
Alive.
Outside the hospital.
Far from the white corridors, locked doors, and doctors who might soon be incapable of caring for anyone.
“She can’t go without treatment,” Todd said quietly.
Jason felt the weight of those words.
“I know.”
Todd turned toward him.
His eyes were red, but he didn’t cry.
“No, you don’t.”
The words emerged more harshly than he intended.
“She has cancer, Jason.
It isn’t the flu.
It isn’t a broken arm.
It isn’t something you can treat with bandages and clean water.”
Jason didn’t look away.
“I know it isn’t.”
Todd struggled to breathe, as though trying to swallow his own anger.
“She was already fighting death before you appeared and told me that the dead were going to rise.”
The words hung between them.
Heavy.
Cruel.
True.
Jason lowered his eyes for a moment.
“I won’t promise you a cure.”
Todd clenched his fists.
Jason continued.
“I’m not going to lie to you.
I don’t know how we’ll manage her treatment if the hospital falls.
I don’t know what medications she needs.
I don’t know how much of them we’ll be able to take with us.”
He looked toward the reserved space.
“But I can promise that I won’t leave her trapped inside that hospital without trying.”
Todd remained silent.
Jason pointed toward the medical boxes.
“Donald is a surgeon.
He may not be an oncologist, but he understands medicine better than any of us.
If we can speak with her doctors and obtain her medical records, medications, and some instructions…”
He took a deep breath.
“Then perhaps we can give her more time.”
Todd closed his eyes.
Time.
It was the cruelest word possible.
And the only one that still made sense.
After several seconds, he walked toward the reserved corner and ran a hand along one of the empty shelves.
“She’s going to hate it here.”
The statement surprised Jason.
“Your mother?”
Todd nodded.
“She’s always liked bright places.
Open windows.
The smell of coffee.
The radio playing in the morning.”
He looked around the gray warehouse.
“This place looks like a criminal hideout.”
Jason didn’t know how to respond.
Todd took a deep breath.
When he spoke again, his voice was firmer.
“But it’s better than dying locked inside a hospital.”
Jason slowly nodded.
“It is.”
Todd remained there for several seconds.
Then he turned toward Jason.
“We’re going to get her.”
“We’re going to try,” Jason replied.
Todd narrowed his eyes.
“No.
We’re going to get my mother.”
Jason understood the difference.
It wasn’t arrogance.
It was desperation.
It was love.
It was the only thing still keeping Todd on his feet.
Jason nodded.
“Then let’s go.”
Todd gave the empty space one final look.
As though making a silent promise.
Then they left the warehouse.
Jason closed the gate, secured the padlock, and placed the key in his pocket.
Todd was already looking toward the station.
His face was tense.
But determined.
This time, there would be no more detours.
They returned to the subway.
Their next destination was Saint Augustine Medical Center.
When they arrived at Saint Augustine Medical Center, Jason realized that the hospital was still trying to appear normal.
Trying.
People stood near the reception desk.
Nurses moved through the corridors.
Family members sat in uncomfortable chairs, waiting for news.
But anyone paying attention could tell that something was wrong.
Too many guards.
Too many locked doors.
Doctors speaking quietly in secluded corners.
And the oppressive atmosphere of a place that knew more than it was willing to reveal.
Todd walked beside Jason with quick, almost aggressive steps.
He knew the way to his mother’s room as though he had traveled that route hundreds of times.
Perhaps he had.
Jason remained one step behind, watching everything.
He didn’t want to attract attention.
Not yet.
“She’s in this hallway,” Todd said quietly.
His voice changed as they approached the room.
The anger gave way to fear.
Jason noticed.
Todd could confront players larger than himself on the field.
He could argue, provoke people, slam helmets together, and protect Jason’s left side like a wall.
But there, standing outside his mother’s room, he looked like nothing more than a frightened son.
Todd stopped for a second.
He took a deep breath.
Then he pushed open the door.
“Mom?”
Jason entered directly behind him.
The first thing he saw was the bed.
Todd’s mother lay beneath the covers, thinner than Jason had imagined, with exhaustion on her face but alertness in her eyes.
Tubes, IV stands, and basic medical equipment surrounded her—enough to remind him that she wasn’t there for anything minor.
Cancer.
The word returned to Jason’s mind.
Heavy.
Unfair.
But the second thing he saw was the man sitting beside the bed.
And Jason froze inside.
The man was thin, his face marked by exhaustion and his eyes burdened with far too much concern for one person.
A little girl sat beside him, holding his hand and silently watching everything.
Jason recognized him almost immediately.
Brian Blake.
The name appeared in his mind like a warning.
In his previous life, Jason knew what that man would become.
Or rather, what that family would become.
The Governor.
I’m using AI to translate this story.
English is not my native language.
If you would prefer to read it without an AI translation, you can find the original Portuguese version on this same profile.