What Remains (Book 3): Epidemic Read online

  The infected horde made their way to the door, using their numbers to push the tables and chairs Kenji had set in front of them aside. The students still sat at their tables, ignoring the commotion. It wasn’t long before the infected funneled into the room, making their way to the students spread throughout. Screams filled the air as the infected reached the students and began to tear into them.

  Finally, students began to run from the infected, and chaos erupted. Kenji wanted to help, but without a weapon, knew he was vulnerable. He ran to the left, hoping to find something inside to use. Running to the first classroom on his right, opening the door.

  Inside, the room was dark, and he felt along the wall for the light switch. The door closed behind him, masking the screams from below. Finding the switch, he pressed it, turning on the fluorescent bulbs with a hum. Kenji threw himself against the wall in fright. Blood covered most of the room, and inside the room stood a crowd infected.

  Kenji froze, hoping none of the infected noticed him, but already several turned toward him. He panicked, grabbing a chair from a desk, using it to push back the closest infected. It was a woman, and something struck Kenji as familiar.

  In fact, as he looked around the room, noticing all the infected were women and were exact carbon copies of each other. They seemed to surround him with ease, as he tried his best to keep them at bay. Attempting to jump onto one of the desks to reach the other side of the room, he fell, and quickly they swarmed forward.

  Kenji tried to crawl back, knowing that he was trapped. As one of the infected women lunged for him, he realized something was familiar with the women. It was her; it was Kiyomi.

  How?! How?!! I miss you so much. It should have been ME, not you.

  Kenji gave up. Tired of fighting, tired of trying so hard to be strong, tired of surviving, giving in was easier than fighting. Kenji gave into Kiyomi, embracing her as she attacked him, wanting to be with her instead. At least he could be at peace. He watched as Kiyomi lunged at him, mouth agape, ready to take a bite.

  Awaking with a start, Kenji sat up, breathing heavily, sweaty. He had the same dream almost every night. Some aspects were different, but the result was the same, always ending with Kiyomi appearing and attacking him. At first, he would fight her. Over time, he began to give up, tired, indifferent about the outcome.

  Looking over at his alarm clock, noticing that he only had ten more minutes until it would go off, signaling him that he needed to get ready for work. With a heavy sigh, he got up, moving to his bathroom.

  After Kenji finished his business, he moved to the mirror, taking a moment to look at himself. Kenji's eyes seemed to sink into his head, the dark bags under his eyes deepened daily. He hadn't shaved in a few weeks, growing a decent amount of stubble, almost crossing into a beard territory. His black hair messy, shaggy, hanging over his forehead. His skin tight over his cheekbones, giving his appearance a ghastly one. Starring back at him in the mirror was a ghostly pale reflection of a person who no longer cared. Kenji was a failure, and he knew it, hell, everyone knew it. It ate at him every waking moment. Even though he had survived, he still had blood on his hands and felt he hadn’t done enough.

  Closing his eyes, he thought about the past two months since the outbreak. Kenji had spent this time trying to come to terms with what he had endured. It wasn’t easy to face the reality that he was still alive, while the world around him seemingly didn’t care about those that weren’t. During the first month after his escape from Japan, he had been in quarantine, separated from everyone he knew. Kenji was alone, left to his thoughts in a small room, with someone watching him through a glass wall. The doctors that watched him never spoke besides when they came in to give him a physical evaluation.

  For an entire month, he was locked in a room like a lab rat; his only sense of privacy was his own mind. Kenji often thought of the events of the outbreak, of the Yokai, and how they had flipped his life upside down. Forced from his home, Japan was no more, so the question remained would he have a home? He dreamt of what it would be like to leave the quarantine room, what the world would be like once he was able to leave. Would the world be any different? Would he be able to start his life over, and move on?

  One day he finally got his answer to those questions as the doctors came into his room with two armed guards. Kenji’s first thoughts were that they were about to execute him or take him away to be forgotten about since his freedom had never been brought up.

  Instead, the doctor simply smiled, “Your time in quarantine is done. We have given you a clean bill of health and are releasing you. These two soldiers will escort you to a nearby room to discuss your reentry process.”

  Kenji didn’t say anything, following the guards who led him down a hall, into a nearby room, where a woman sat. She stood as Kenji entered the room, holding her hand out to shake his.

  “Mr.-” She began.

  “Just call me Kenji.”

  “Okay, Kenji, I’m here to help talk to you about you relocating. Now, as a survivor of such a terrifying event, and subsequently having no material possessions, the government has procured a residence for you and your two relatives. As well, we would like to offer assistance in finding a job close to your original occupation. I know that when you first entered quarantine, we collected as much data on who you are and what you did before-”

  “Before the outbreak?” Kenji interjected.

  “Yes,” the woman replied, visibly uncomfortable, “Before the event. We used that information to find you a job at an accounting firm, relatively close to your new residence. A fund has been set up under your name in a bank account, you have been assigned a social security number, and we have a driver’s license ready for you as well.”

  “What’s the catch to all this?” Kenji asked suspiciously.

  “There is one stipulation to all of this,” the woman stated, shoving a small packet of paper across the table, “This is a contract stating that upon accepting all of this you will attend weekly therapy sessions to make sure you stay on track to becoming a successful member of society. This a thank you from the government for your help in the return of hard drives. We know you had some part in all of that.”

  “So, I just agree to go to therapy, and I can get a new life?”

  “Yes, Mr.- Sorry, Kenji. That is exactly what this is.”

  “What if I don’t want to continue my job?” Kenji asked.

  “As long as you keep attending your therapy sessions, you’ll be fine. Stop going to the therapist without them giving you consent, and you will have to pay the Government back for all the help,” the woman stated.

  Kenji stared at the contract in front of him. This was what he had hoped and dreamed of ever since escaping Japan, but now that it was a reality, why did he feel so unsure about accepting it? What choice did he have, though? He didn’t have any money, didn’t own anything, and without this help, would also be homeless.

  “So, I sign this, and I become a full United States of America citizen?” Kenji asked, with a raised eyebrow.

  Nodding, the woman pushed the contract even closer to him.

  Grabbing the contract, Kenji flipped through it quickly before signing his name at the bottom of the last page.

  “Great,” the woman said, smiling once more, “Now that’s out of the way, please follow me. We will wait for your family in the lobby before we take you to your new home.”

  She stood up, holding out her hand for Kenji to shake it once more, “Welcome to San Francisco, Kenji.”

  Chapter 2

  Nervously arriving a week after being released from quarantine to the accounting firm, Kenji was greeted by several people. They all whispered around him, catching only small bits of what they were saying, but it was all along with the same subject; Kenji.

  “That’s him! He’s the one I saw on the news!”

  Kenji was led to his desk after a quick tour of the building, which upon his boss leaving, seemed like the whole office hovered nearby him. He would cat
ch them staring before they hurriedly walked away, pretending to be busy. After a few hours of this, the excitement seemed to die down, and soon lunchtime approached. Kenji sat at his desk, deciding that he didn’t want to join his new coworkers just yet, and ate quietly. He listened as the chatter of the employees began their daily gossip, in the nearby break room.

  “I still can’t believe that a virus wiped out Japan.”

  “I wonder if he will tell us anything about what happened.”

  “We can ask him after lunch, I’m sure he won’t mind. After all, he’s a hero. I mean to survive that; you have to be.”

  As Kenji’s new coworkers talked about him, painting him as a hero, he felt sick to his stomach. No longer hungry, he stood up to go to the bathroom, shaking from cold chills running up his spine. Kenji had to walk by the break room where all his coworkers sat, knowing they would see him.

  “I just can’t imagine it being like they said over there. I mean, people coming back from the dead. Not to say that man isn’t a hero. He helped out soldiers escape after all!”

  The room fell silent as Kenji walked by, noticing him pass. He walked toward the bathroom, ignoring their ignorant comments. Feeling sick, he hurled what little food he had just eaten. Kenji flushed the toilet, wiping his mouth. His hands shaking, he stumbled over to the sink behind him, rinsing his hands. Splashing water on his face, he took a deep breath.

  I can’t do this. I can’t act like everything is normal, everything is fine. I failed to save people close to me. They trusted me to keep them safe, and I couldn’t. These people don’t understand, and probably never will. Were these people so unconcerned about what had actually happened, they were blowing it off? They called me a hero. They don’t care about me, just that I survived.

  Kenji left the bathroom, hearing the indistinct chatter of the break room once more. He stopped, shaking his head. Without saying a word to anyone, he left the building, walking to his car. Kenji sat in the driver’s seat, keys in the ignition.

  Do I turn the keys and leave, or do I stay and try to deal with this new reality? This is like a terrible dream; it seems too good to be true. I can’t sit at a desk and pretend the virus doesn’t exist.

  Kenji made up his mind, starting his car, he pulled out of the parking lot, heading back to his house. Arriving at the front door, he entered, slamming it behind him. He collapsed against the solid metal door. Kenji curled into a ball, holding his head between his knees, and began to weep.

  Spending the next day at home, hiding in his bedroom, disregarding the world outside. The accounting firm had called the new phone he had bought twice throughout the day, but he ignored their calls. Later that night, a knock came from his door, and he went to answer it. Finding Nobuto on the other side, he was somewhat surprised to find the teenage boy at his door.

  “Kenji, did you stay in your room all day?”

  Kenji nodded with a guilty look.

  “I know this is hard. School. I didn’t think I’d ever be back at a school after…well…Look, what I'm trying to say is we thought our lives were over. And they were, but this is our second chance,” Nobuto stated.

  “I just couldn’t, Nobuto. They talked about me being a hero. That the virus wasn’t as bad as the news reported it since we survived,” replied Kenji.

  Nobuto sighed, sitting on Kenji’s bed, “The same thing happened to me. There were a few kids who said that I was contagious and to stay from me. Yet, some called me brave. I have never felt brave. When we were over there, I was always so afraid. I thought any time I fought one of the Yokai, it would be my last.”

  “There’s no way for any of them to know what we went through. They can guess, but they can’t imagine it,” Kenji said, weakly, “When they said I was a hero, all I could think of Kiyomi, and all the others we lost. All the people I left behind.”

  “They still haunt me too,” Nobuto said quietly, “but I want to honor their memories. I want to do my best and continue on. Even if it weighs so heavily on me.”

  Kenji embraced the teen, “You’re right. I need to try to move on, keep living. For them. The ones we lost. Tomorrow, I'll look for a new job, start with something a little easier. Thank you, Nobuto.”

  The next morning Kenji left, driving around the city, using his phone as a GPS, exploring his new hometown of San Francisco. It reminded him of Tokyo, compact, buildings built to utilize space over comfort, leaving him feeling reminiscent of his true home. He wanted to know his new surroundings, to become familiar with them. Not just so he knew where things were, but a large part of him wanted to be prepared in case another outbreak happened. Kenji drove for several hours, taking in the city around him.

  Spotting a coffee shop, he turned off the street. He found a parking spot, killing the engine once parked. Walking into the shop, Kenji took in the smell of the roasted coffee beans being brewed in various drinks. Approaching the counter, he ordered a large mocha, his mouth watering at the simple thought of flavored coffee.

  The one small thing that seemed to give him any amount of joy was food. After surviving off scraps for weeks, nearly starving to death a few times, food, especially food that he hadn’t eaten before, was his one reprieve. He had yet to enjoy coffee beyond the time he attempted to brew some instant coffee back in Japan, which turned into muddy water, more than the dark richness he wanted.

  He waited nearby the counter as the espresso machine came to life while the barista made his drink. The barista was a tall young man, in his early twenties, wearing a beanie hat.

  “K-Kenji?!” The barista yelled out, calling his order, attempting to not butcher his name.

  Kenji stepped forward, and their eyes met.

  The Barista's eyes went wide, realizing who he was, “You’re…You’re the guy from the news! You’re the Hero of Japan!”

  Kenji grabbed his drink as the other patrons in the shop turned to look at who the Barista was talking to.

  “Can I get a picture with you?” The Barista asked excitedly.

  “Uh…I’m…” Kenji sputtered, backing toward the door.

  “Wait!” The Barista exclaimed.

  Kenji ignored his protest, putting his shoulder to the door, jogging to his car. He climbed in before anyone could follow him, setting his drink in the cup holder, turning the engine over. Kenji looked back up at the shop, noticing through the glass window that several people stood at them with their phones out, either taking his picture or recording him.

  He wasn’t sure how everyone seemed to know who he was. It was as if overnight the world decided he was a celebrity, without his knowledge. Kenji was disgusted with the sensationalism of it all. Emotions swelled inside him; most notably anger. Backing out of his parking spot, he merged with the traffic on the streets, deciding to put as much distance between himself and the coffee shop as he could. Kenji’s hand began to hurt, quickly releasing his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles white from how tightly he held it. Kenji just wanted to run away, remove himself from everyone who had decided he was a hero.

  He didn’t know how long he had been driving but quickly realized that he didn’t know where he was, forgetting to set his phone up as a GPS. Following the directions his phone gave him, he headed back to his house, hoping to find refuge there. However, as Kenji turned onto his street, he slowed down, discovering that his street was almost completely blocked.

  In front of his house sat five different news vans, and a swarm of people stood nearby, clearly waiting for Kenji to return. As he approached, someone from the crowd noticed him, and he could hear them shouting his name, amongst other indistinguishable questions. Kenji was barely able to pull into his driveway, before being mobbed by various news reporters, cameramen in tow, shoving microphones in his face.

  “Kenji, how does it feel to be out of quarantine?!”

  “Can you comment on what really happened in Japan?”

  “What do the infected look like, how does the virus bring them back from the dead?”

  Kenji sh
oved his way through, trying his best to ignore them, reaching his front door. He fumbled with his keys before unlocking the door, sliding inside before slamming it closed. Looking through the peephole, he locked the door, watching as they backed away, into the yard.

  Where the hell did they all come from? How do they know where I live?

  Chapter 3

  Kenji sat on his couch, watching his TV, wondering how the news had spread so fast about the virus. On the screen sat three people, the news anchor, a scientist from the CDC, and a soldier in his dress uniform. Their banter kept Kenji intrigued the whole time he watched. The Scientist was the one mainly speaking, delivering details about the outbreak in Japan.

  A banner displayed under each of them gave their names; the news anchor, Daniel Sharp, the soldier, General Samson, and lastly, Dr. Victoria, from the CDC.

  “While we don’t know where the Virus originated from, we do know that it spread in a matter of two weeks. The government of Japan attempted to stop it’s spread but was unable to do so, resulting in the complete self-quarantine of the Island nation. With a heavy heart, I must announce that so far, we only have confirmed six survivors,” Dr. Victoria stated.

  “Only six survivors?” Daniel choked, stunned.

  “Yes, the virus, which we are calling the Demon Virus, decimated the population of Japan. It is highly contagious, and once a person is infected, it has a one-hundred percent mortality rate. However, the main thing we wanted to share about the virus is not only is there no cure to the Demon Virus, but upon death, the virus reanimates its host.”

  The audience of the evening show started murmuring amongst themselves, shocked at Dr. Victoria’s statement.

  “Wait, are you saying that the virus brings people back to life?” Daniel asked.

  “Yes…The virus brings people back to life, then the host will attack anyone nearby to spread itself,” Dr. Victoria explained.