Pox Read Online Free PDF Page A

into refugee centers. The
story put out was that an epidemic had begun on the South American
continent and it was progressing north at an alarming rate.
    At least, that’s what the broadcasts repeated.
    Russell never heard of a circular scar. He looked it
up, and learned that it was a mark left by a scab. Before about
1972 or 1974, everyone had to be inoculated against something
called smallpox. The resulting scab would give the recipient of the
vaccine a small, circular scar for life along with lifetime
immunity to the disease.
    Apparently, smallpox had been eradicated from the
face of the earth sometime in the 1980s. Apparently, all traces of
the vaccine were supposed to be destroyed. And also apparent,
judging by the disease’s advance northwards from South America, it
hadn’t.
    So much for trusting governments to do the right
thing.
    We’d already had something not quite similar occur
just before the meteors. It was called measles, and anyone who
hadn’t been vaccinated against it could catch it and die. Many did,
for it spread rapidly among the religious freaks and anti-vaxer
nutbars who had allowed themselves to be talked out of permitting
their children to get any immunization shots at all.
    When the deaths began, it seemed to me to be only
right. Those who didn’t see the value in modern medicine were
designed to die for their supposed sins. Eventually, we all ended
up paying our dues, one way or another.
    Following the measles epidemic, the government began
scouring medical records for the names of people who hadn’t had any
immunization injections. By then the black vans had been replaces
by city busses painted in dark colors with yellow markings to
highlight them.
    When that started, something told Russell it was time
to move, and he did, a number times. He picked up, packed up and
moved out to the ‘burbs. He wasn’t nervous or concerned about it in
the slightest. He moved at night on his quiet, battery-powered
motorcycle. It took many trips until, finally, he was settled and
alone.
    Alone, that is, until he saw her again.
     
    I lifted a corner of the curtain to look out. Just as
I did, I caught the woman glancing at my house. She must have seen
the movement. She was blind if she didn’t.
    I panicked and ran to the door to look out of the
peephole. I was just in time to see the woman getting up off the
ground. She had to have stumbled from the shock of seeing something
where only moments before there had been nothing.
    I rushed back to the window and pulled the curtain
open wide. I pasted grin on my face and waved. The girl halted,
mid-step, turned, and ran in the direction from which she had
come.
    I closed the drapes and returned to the darkened
living room. I got a good look, to be sure. She was definitely
attractive. That’s not what I noticed first, though. The first was
the weapon. A shotgun, with a short barrel. A cut-off for easy
handling.
    The gun was slung across her chest. The
double-barreled breach was open, but the bandolier over her
shoulder carried enough shells to make it look as though she
belonged to a small band of mercenaries. I’d like to have her on my
side, if that was possible.
    I tried to put her out of my mind. I had to
concentrate on the map in front of me.
    The map was my record of everything. It told me where
I had gone to scrounge for things I needed - mostly canned goods. I
color-coded it as a reminder of where I had been, where there was
nothing of value left, and where I might want to go for a look-see
at what remained.
    To keep a step ahead, I marked the urban pockets of
farm animals that people in the city had started to collect and
feed before the purge. In time I thought I might be able to gather
some of them and move them to an empty arena, or maybe a small park
where there would be grass. Maybe I’d even get a small farm going
for fresh eggs and goat milk - all in good time.
    And then thoughts of the woman banished everything
else from my mind. Not thinking about