A Mother's Love - - (whitelam books txt) 📗

Liz choked back the carnage in her thoughts that told her she would never see the man she loved again.  Ruby never even got to say goodbye to her father.

***

“Keep moving forward to be processed,” the voice announced over the bullhorn.  There were lights shining down on Liz, with no inch of the contained area in any kind of darkness despite the night's sky.  Her feet shuffled forward, the fences starting to converge toward a series of gates where more armed men waited.  It felt like she had been here for hours, her bladder building its pressure that would soon override her conscious will.

There were a lot of such smells surrounding her now, all of which added to the sense of building terror that needed some way to vent.  The gates ahead were the release valve; the people filtered through at an unacceptable speed.

“Mummy, I'm thirsty,” came Ruby's voice.

“I know, honey,” Liz responded, briefly caressing the child's long blonde hair.  She would have given the child something to drink, but the one bottle she had brought had already been consumed.

“Keep moving,” the booming voice came again.  Just shut up, damn you, Liz wanted to scream.  “Food and water will be provided once you are through processing.”  Processing? Why did they need to be processed?

Liz took another few steps, the front of the queue now visible.  There were four gates, each guarded by two men.  Behind the gates were thinner wire tunnels where only a single person could venture through.  This nonsensical design was holding everything up.  Surely there was an easier way to get them onto the trains.  Millions of people managed to commute to work that way every day.

“But I'm thirsty, Mummy,” Ruby insisted.

“Hush now dear.  Not long now.”  She hated the irritation that crept into her voice, knowing that her daughter was suffering just as she was.  Probably worse, because Ruby didn't have the life experience to allow any understanding of why this was all necessary.

There was no other way to save them. Right?

“Bitch,” someone shouted off to her right.  Liz's eyes were drawn to a just visible randomness in the crowd.  Another, more colourful word was used, and then the crowd swallowed up whatever altercation had occurred.

The gates finally revealed themselves.  The guards were still on the other side of the wire, none of them in reach of a woman or child that might have been brought to the edge of madness.  Although guns weren't being pointed, they were being held in a way that could have been perceived as threatening.  Women in front of her tried to engage the soldiers, clearly aiming to gain some insight as to what was in store for them.  No response ever came, the men stoic and unflinching in their silent vigil.

The gates were basically just turn-styles, which meant that only one person could progress at a time.  Each one had two lights.  Green meant you could proceed, while red meant you had to wait.  This had all been installed ready for the women's arrival, and another nugget of doubt grew in Liz's mind. 

If only she had listened to John instead of being swallowed up by her own doubts.

There was a frightening moment when they reached the barrier.  Ruby passed through with her mother's encouragement, but the light then remained red for several seconds.  Liz caught the harried glance from her daughter, the uncertainty now spiralling the girl to a full-blown breakdown.  But then the light changed and Liz was able to walk through the metal arms to once again hold Ruby's shoulders.

“Keep moving forward,” the bullhorn voice commanded.  The two passed along the metal wire tunnel and were forced to join a line that ran parallel to half a dozen others. So, this was processing, the numerous signs that were littered around the place giving the same instruction.

Prepare for inspection

Have your government issued Identification to hand

Your cooperation is expected and appreciated

“Name.”  Liz and Ruby now stood in front of a table, behind which sat a woman in soldier’s uniform.  She wore no form of facial protection, unlike the men who were visible.  Still, the men were only seen on the outer side of the wire.  Liz looked at the woman and saw the dark circles under her eyes.  There was no life there, just benign resignation.  And was there also fear?  Surely, she was just imagining that.

“Elizabeth Cartwright,” Liz said, thrusting forward her driver's licence.  The female soldier, whose name badge said Conner, grabbed it briefly.  On the table in front of her, Conner religiously ran her finger down the screen on an iPad until she found Liz on the list.

“Child's name?”

“Ruby Cartwright,” Liz answered.  Behind Conner, the train platform could be seen, dozens of people milling there.  A train sat invitingly on the platform, but not the kind of train she would have expected.   Were those...were those cattle cars?

Conner didn't ask for Ruby's identification, which was good because Liz didn't have any on her.  There had only been time to bring the bare minimum once the soldiers had come knocking on her door.

“What happens next?” Liz almost begged.

“Isn't it obvious?”  Conner sounded exasperated.  Or was there something more there?  Yes, there was, a secret that Conner wasn't ever going to reveal.

“My daughter needs water,” Liz continued.  Conner didn't even look at Ruby, instead keeping her gaze on Liz.

“You will find everything you need on the platform.  Please move along now.”  It wasn't a request.  Two plastic cards on lanyards were thrust at Liz who took them robotically.  The cards were colour coded, and Liz draped one over her daughter's neck.  She assumed it was a good thing that they were both the same colour.

Stepping past the table, they joined a disjointed throng that wandered almost hypnotically toward the platform and the train that held such promise and such dread.  There were soldiers on top of the train, walking up and down.  Their presence should have been reassuring, but Liz found them totally menacing.

There must have been thirty cattle cars making up the length of the train.  With a sudden lurch, it moved forward, bringing more of the train’s accessibility to the platform.  Were they really going to be expected to travel in those?  Things surely couldn't be that bad.

The pressure in her bladder made itself known again, and Liz guided her daughter toward the blue portable lavatories that had been set up.  Whoever had planned this had realised that toilet facilities would be required, and women were already forming up to get their chance.  What would they do once they were on the train?

***

A recorded message, played over the platform’s public address system, had instructed them to board the train based on the colour coding they had been given.  Each cattle car could be identified by one of the colours Liz could see adorning people’s necks.  This terrified her, partly because she was Jewish.  She had a strong feeling her ancestors had been in this situation before.  There seemed to be no sense to this, and no choice either.  They had been forced to come here under the umbrella of it being for their safety, and now she was seriously beginning to question the validity of that.  Had she brought Ruby into harm's way?

It was something else for her to feel guilty about, even though really she hadn't been given any kind of choice.  She supposed they could have tried to hide, but then what would they have done?  It would have been foolish to stay in Portland with a vampiric horde marching on the city’s perimeter.  Anyone left in the city would be hunted down and gorged on by ravenous beasts who cared not for compassion or mercy.

It was also clear that they were checking everyone off a pre-prepared list.  Liz had no idea how the list had been compiled, but if their names came up missing, she had no doubt people would be sent out to hunt for them.

There were so many things about this that concerned her, but perhaps the thing that stuck out the most was the way the men weren't mingling with them.  Sure, Liz had interacted with a female soldier, but not a single male face had been on display since the sirens earlier in the day.

***

Liz had acquired some water and food for her daughter, from a table loaded with pallets of the stuff.  The child had consumed it all greedily, as had Liz herself.  Despite its small internal volume, Liz had managed to stuff four further bottles into her bag.  Nobody told her off, and most people were doing the same.

“Prepare for boarding,” the tannoy voice ordered.  With a uniform action, five of the doors on the train opened sideways, giving a glimpse of the interior.  For some reason, Liz expected to see straw laden floors, but the carriage’s interiors were white and pristine.

Those assorted on the platform began to move forward, helping each other up onto the train.  When it became Liz's turn, she reluctantly helped her daughter board.  By the time she was in herself, the train car was already half full.  Liz couldn’t fathom why there were no seats; it was standing room only.  At least there was evidence of air conditioning, so they had that going for them.  Were there so many people that the army felt this was the only way to move them?

Claustrophobia threatened to engulf her, but she had to swallow that up for the sake of her daughter.

Employing the same technique as before, Liz moved over to the side of the carriage, managing to work her way into a corner.  The floor underneath was perforated, probably to allow liquid to flow away.  The interior was painted white, halogens illuminating the whole sorry display.  There were metal loops along the walls at regular intervals, and Liz found herself wondering where these train compartments had come from.

Liz hoped the train ride wouldn't be long because there wouldn't be room here for people to lie down.  As more people forced their way in, it became evident that they wouldn't be able to sit either. The smells of the assorted travellers assaulted her nostrils.  It wasn't just body odour she smelt, but terror as well.

That terror amplified considerably when the doors to this new prison closed.  Within seconds, the lights went out.

***

“Can you tell us what you know about the virus, Professor?”  Liz couldn't tell if she was awake, or if she was dreaming, but the memory of the TV broadcast she had watched was vivid in her mind.  If she was asleep, her body was being held upright by the people crushed against her.

“Certainly,” the bearded professor said.  It wasn't an ungainly array of facial hair. Instead his beard was neatly trimmed to match his immaculate hair.  “The Nosferatu virus, as the public are wanting to call it, spreads via bodily fluids and in the air we breathe.”

“So, it's airborne?” the TV show host interrupted. 

There was a hint of annoyance in the professor's face, as if the question was too stupid to even comprehend. “Yes.  It is highly durable, capable of surviving on most surfaces.  It's main mode of transmission is respiratory, but it also has the ability to infect the skin and mucous membranes.”

“Is there any way to tell if anyone is infected?”

“Not in the early stages, no.  The symptoms are very mild at first, going unnoticed in most people.  In the latter stages, fever and joint pain are common, as is sensitivity to light. It usually takes around three days for these to develop.”

“What about being bitten?” enquired the host, to which the professor seemed to