My parents remained inside, I took trips to replenish supplies, only cans, bottles, nothing plastic, wooden, cellophaned. I went to the lab and tried to work, finally feeling it was too dangerous to attempt this each day, I brought my work home. Down in my basement, I had cultures of bacteria, viruses, I padlocked the door from the outside and made sure I was the only one with a key. Through my ground level window I saw feet and legs, sometimes they walked, sometimes they ran, sometimes they shuffled along, I knew those were the infected..
It worked for a few months, our self imposed quarantine.. a few months.. one day I was down in the lab.. going through the myriad of papers, deciphering numbers, medical lingo and sometimes my own handwriting. I heard a thud, then another, I stared up at the ceiling.. my throat constricted.. maybe, if I just ignored it, maybe it would go away.. maybe.
They were both on the floor, daddy had his gun but his hand had softened and he couldn't grip it, moma's hand was in his other.. they couldn't speak.. not audibly but daddy's eyes.. oh God MY FATHER'S EYES!.... they said it all..
I pushed that memory from my mind, wiped away the tear and went to the files.. I wondered how that would look on a resume.. what would that be classified under, would it be something totally new.. maybe "necessary homicide" swallowing my urge to puke, I rifled through the files.. there it was.. I opened it, funny how it started..
LORD, IF YOU CAN STILL STOMACH ME.. PLEASE HEAR.. HELP THESE POOR SOULS, THEY KNOW NOT WHAT WE HAVE UNLEASHED...