“Is it?” Burt’s eyebrows arched. All color had drained from his face. “Is that what you think? Students are dropping classes left and right. They’re leaving and going back home to be with their families. They’re scared, David.” He lowered his voice. “I’m scared, too.”
At the far end of the cafeteria, one of the lunch ladies dropped a tray of dishes; the sound of them shattering on the tiled floor was like an A-bomb barreling through the silence. Both David and Burt jerked their heads in the direction of the commotion in time to see the lunch lady, a portly woman in what resembled a starched white nurse’s uniform, frowning apologetically at them. A second woman joined her, and together they began cleaning up the mess. They both looked terrified, as if the accident might get them fired. Since the Folly, every accident was suspicious, every trip of the tongue or lapse in memory a cause for concern.
“I keep watching my kids,” Burt said. “I’m looking for signs of . . . I don’t even know. Disassociation? Daydreaming? Some say bloody noses or burst blood vessels in the eyes or eyelids. How can you tell if a young girl’s daydreams are killing her?” He laughed a little bit here, but there were tears forming in the corners of his eyes. David considered that maybe telling him about Watermere’s prison story had been a bad idea. “Just look at that,” Burt continued, pointing over David’s shoulder to one of the wall-mounted TVs.
David turned around and saw a news report about the outbreak in China. There were people crying in front of the camera, which then cut to what appeared to be men in hazmat suits rolling body bags into a mass grave.
“It’s no better anywhere else, including here in the States,” Burt said. “The Black Death wiped out an estimated two hundred million people. That was a third of the world’s population back then. At this rate, we’ll reach those numbers by the end of the year, or maybe early into next, if we’re lucky.”
“They may find a cure before that,” David offered.
“Or they may not,” Burt said. “Doctors don’t know shit. It’s fucking biblical, David. A plague manifests among the populace with no rhyme or reason, shot like a bolt of lightning straight from the finger of God.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“Been hearing about these people, call themselves Worlders.”
“They’re a cult,” David said.
“They might be a cult, or they might be the only sane people left on the planet. While the world is trying to fight this thing, to understand it, to . . . to somehow annihilate it even though no one knows what the hell it even is . . . these Worlders, they’re embracing it, David. They’re saying, ‘Okay, yeah, bring it on. People have been shitty to each other for so long that maybe this is the planet’s way of ridding itself of us.’ It’s like we’re fucking head lice or something.”
“I’m not so sure that’s the right way to look at things, either,” David said.
“Listen,” Burt said, lowering his voice. “I’ve been considering getting out of here. There’s a used car lot I pass every night on my way home. They’ve got really low rates on RVs right now. Rentals, you know? I guess they’re big in the summer, but now, they’re just sitting there collecting dust.”
“What are you getting at?”
“I’m thinking about renting one. Packing up my family and getting the hell out of here.”
“And go where?”
“Someplace where we can all be alone. Someplace where there aren’t any other people around. It might be safer that way.”
“Didn’t you hear the story I just told you? What that detective said about those inmates?”
Burt was shaking his head. “He’s not a doctor. What does he know?”
“I just don’t want to see you make some knee-jerk reaction because of what happened to Udell or because of shit you hear on the news or read on the Internet,” David said. “I’m as shaken up as you are, but we’ve got to keep our wits about us. And in this day and age, where in the world would you even go where you and your family could be completely alone?”
“A campground,” Burt said without missing a beat. David could tell the man had been giving this plan more than just a passing consideration. “Maybe a national park somewhere out west where there’s less people. Or the mountains. We could live in the RV and tuck ourselves up into the woods. It’s not as impossible as it sounds. I used to go camping with my dad and brothers all the time when we were kids.”
“But that’s just camping. My family rented an RV and did it one summer when I was a kid, too. But that was only for a few weeks. I mean, how long are you talking here, Burt?”
“Permanently,” Burt said. “Or at least until things get back to normal.”
David wondered if things would ever get back to normal. He asked Burt what he would do for money in the meantime.
“Wouldn’t need any,” Burt said. “We’d live off the land. You’re not hearing me, David.”