I’m digging too deep when he starts with single-word answers. Okay. Direct approach.
“Since they let you join, do you think I could I join?”
Aiden’s face scrunches. “It’s a possibility, I guess. If you really are immune from the Infection, that’ll improve the odds. You said your uncle died of the Infection, right?”
“Yeah.” I hate this subject. I lower my head as sadness and guilt build in me.
“And you were with him?”
I nod but don’t say anything, worried my voice will reflect my guilt. I was with him, but it’s not the whole truth.
“If you were in close contact with him through the height of the Infection, that’s when it’s the most contagious. Even being near them can expose you. Youmustbe immune.”
He says it so matter-of-factly, as if the issue is settled. But thinking about what truly happened to my uncle makes me ill. I’m not ready to talk about it. Not yet. Maybe, never.
It all happened over a year ago, but I still remember it like yesterday. My uncle and I were fly-fishing. The mayflies were everywhere, and the fish were really biting.
I’d been trying for over a week and couldn’t get the hang of it. But that day, something clicked, and I caught several fish. Satisfied with our catch, we packed up and hopped in his truck.
I remembered the conversation because Uncle Max brought up Felix. That was unusual. After some small talk, he broached the subject. “So I heard you broke up with Felix.”
Uncle Max had always been great about accepting Felix into our family. Felix even made a few trips out there to visit. I knew Uncle Max liked him.
“Yeah. It was time. Long distance is hard and…I don’t know.” But I did know. Felix and I had grown apart. But I wasn’t ready to go into details with my uncle.
“Gotta do what’s right for you,” he said. “Hopefully, you can still be friends.”
“I think we will be.”
That was all we said on the subject. Uncle Max was a man of few words. He lived all alone in Elk Springs. No wife. Noboyfriend, as far as I knew. I often wondered about it. Some people simply didn’t need other people in their lives. We never talked about it.
When we returned to the cabin, I could tell something was off as soon as I walked through the door. It took a moment until it hit me. There was no noise whatsoever. The furnace wasn’t running, no hum of the fridge, no ultra-high pitch frequencies from electronic equipment. The power was out.
It wasn’t the most unusual thing in Elk Springs. My uncle had a generator for such an occasion, so while I gutted the fish, he headed out to the shed to fetch it. But, soon, he came back.
“Hey, Zach, looks like I’m low on fuel,” he said. “I think I’ll run to Bozeman and stop at the Costco. I’ll fill the gas tanks and buy us some supplies while I’m there.”
“Oh—uh—sure.” I wanted to go with him because I hated being alone. But my hands were all nasty, and I was halfway through gutting, so I tried to be chill and let it slide.
He could see I was nervous. “Don’t worry, Zach. I’ll be back in a couple hours.”
I did my best to act normal. “I’ll be fine. Can you pick up some Dr Pepper?”
“Will do.” And with that, my uncle was gone.
Three hours had passed, and I’d finished the fish long ago. So I grabbed my phone to text my uncle. With no reception on the river, there’d been no need to bring my phone, so this was the first time I looked at it since we’d left for fishing at four a.m. When I unlocked the screen, my jaw dropped. Eight missed calls and forty-five text messages. Most were from my mom and dad and a couple from Felix. One incoming call was from 911, which was especially strange. But not a single one from my uncle. The texts were alarming.
Did you hear the news about the Great Collapse?
Are you OK?
Zach, call us!
I love you, Zach
What in the hell was going on? And what was “the Great Collapse”? I immediately called my mom, but the line wouldn’t connect. I couldn’t call anyone. Cell service must have been down as well. No voicemail, no Internet. Nothing.
I was totally cut off.
