A Gathering of Lions and Lambs

By Roger Jackson

Plague: Jacob Trimble has never experienced it. Fear: He has never really known it. Death: He has never had to deal with it - until now. The human race is decimated by a lethal virus. The few people that are left, the lions and lambs of humanity, are gathering in the Cumberland Mountains of eastern Tennessee.

Jacob has also never considered himself to be a leader, but now he must lead a small group of survivors, all teenagers and young kids, in the right direction or he will face something else for the first time - the extinction of his race.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roger Jackson
• Release date: Oct 20, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301076604

Roger Jackson

My first taste of reading came in the 6th grade with the wonderful world of Scholastic Books. Even in a little farming community (population just over 1000), I could look through the two or three page catalog of books that were age appropriate – and dream. Then I had to ask my parents for the money to give to the teacher so she could place the order for my and my classmate’s choice of books. Seeing the box from Scholastic sitting on the teacher’s desk was as thrilling as Christmas. I knew there were books in that box just for me. I sat on the edge of my seat, waiting for the teacher to pull out that special bundle and call my name.I grew up on an Arkansas delta cotton farm. We worked hard and played hard. We could roam the fields, imagining we were somewhere else – anywhere else. But I wouldn’t have wanted to grow up anywhere else. The sky was so dark at night I could see all the stars unimpeded. The air was clean. The summers were hot, but the water pumped straight of the ground was cold. The winters were cold, but a gas wall heater kept the house toasty.I liked farming and I developed a love of nature and for growing things from it. I was the first of my family to go to college and I earned a degree in Computer Science. Computer programming is my paying job, but being with my family and writing are my true passions.I began writing in my teens, but I didn’t sell anything in the national market. I did get recognition from my university and I co-wrote and produced a small Star Trek spoof film. As a result, I was privileged to meet Gene Roddenberry. I married a wonderful woman and raised two great daughters before returning to my love of writing.I am pleased with the advent of electronic publishing. It gives more people a way of releasing his or her voice. My first e-publishing endeavors are a science fiction short story Currents of Thunder and my debut novel, A Shade of Mind.

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A Gathering of Lions and Lambs

by

Roger Jackson

Chapter 1

It’s been 268 days since the end of the world, and I still don’t know what our future will be. Our future: you’d think there wouldn’t be one if the world ended, and after what just happened, there may not be.

It’s funny; a year ago I was a sophomore in high school. I didn’t think about the future much. Plenty of time for that. Yeah, right. Now it’s the main thing on my mind. What’s even funnier is that I have to remember the past to figure out how to have a future. Does that make sense?

I didn’t have much interest in the past either. What happened before today wasn’t important. I know, typical teenager. Then my history teacher, Mr. Eubanks, gave us a challenging assignment. You know what those are like, but I have to admit, it got me to thinking. He told us to write a paper on a quotation by George Bernard Shaw.

Shaw said, We are made wise not by the recollection of our past, but by the responsibility for our future.

I didn’t have a clue what that meant. I couldn’t even come up with some BS that might get me a passing grade. So I went to Mr. Eubanks for help.

"There’s no right or wrong answer, he explained. I just want to know your opinion."

"I’m not sure what my opinion is," I said.

He wrote down a web address and gave it to me. This site has quotations from a number of people who are considered great thinkers. Compare them. I think you’ll come up with something.

I did; and then I was really confused. A lot of different people said a lot of different things about history, and none of them said the same thing. But I kept reading, and guess what? They started making sense, including the Shaw thing.

So I wrote that he meant knowing history alone didn’t give people wisdom. Wisdom came with how the person applied that knowledge to future actions. I got an A. After that, I thought history was kind of cool.

I’ve been thinking of Shaw a lot lately. I’m responsible for the few of us that are left. Not by choice. Well, that’s not exactly true. I pushed people into making me the leader. I don’t know why. Okay, that’s another lie. It’s what I wanted – and I still do. Sometimes I think that was a bad choice. I’ll only be sixteen years old tomorrow, for God’s sake. How was I supposed to know what was going to happen?

But I have to know. That’s the job I chose. I thought I was doing pretty good. I don’t know, maybe I am. At least most of us are still alive, but I have to do better from now on. I don’t want to lose anyone else.

Anyway, another quotation from that website stuck in my mind. Winston Churchill said, History will be kind to me for I intend to write it.

At the time, I thought it was weird he had to write his own history in order for people to like him. Surely his actions spoke for themselves. Now I wonder what people in the future will think of me. Will they say I did a good job? How will they know what this small group of kids had to accomplish in order for there to be people in the future? So I scavenged some notebooks from an office supply store and I’ll do like Churchill. Maybe history will be kind to me if I write it myself.

My name is Jacob Trimble. I founded the Cumberland Community in La Follette Tennessee. This is my – our story.

I’ll start with the day my best friend, Grayson, got sick.

*** *** ***

Jacob, wait up!

I shift my backpack farther up my shoulder as Grayson falls into step with me. He’s ticked off about something, I can tell. I’m not sure what, but it has to have something to do with baseball.

Weekend practice has been cancelled, he grumbles.

See.

Great! Let’s hope the flu doesn’t get any worse, I say. A lot more people were absent today. I heard they’re planning to shut down school for a couple of months.

Grayson shakes his head. That’ll cut right into the beginning of the season. I was looking forward to playing with Jenkins.

Troy Jenkins, our new short stop, transferred to Beech High this past fall. I didn’t have the heart to tell Grayson I was beginning to wonder if we would have a season at all this year. I’ve tried not to pay too much attention to it, but the news has been pretty gloomy lately. But my friend is always the optimist.

I don’t think they’ll shut down school for the flu, he says. They never have. This shit will blow past us like always.

Grayson looks down at his shoes as Mrs. Cooper walks past us, but she says nothing about his choice of words.

You keep talking like that and you’ll be sitting in detention. I smirk when Grayson glances behind us. Nervous?

No, he says. He scans the crowd and then smirks back. Hell, no.

I chuckle. Grayson’s a smartass, but he’s a loveable one. As we walk out to the bus court, I pull up my collar to block the wind. It’s February and cold; really cold for Tennessee. We head for bus 483, but my attention is on bus 448. Her bus. Marci Thompson, my girlfriend. No, my hot girlfriend. Lots of people stand around blocking my view. Then some kid bounces off me as he runs by and almost knocks me down.

Geek, I mumble.

I guess I should’ve been paying attention, but the dweeb could have at least said sorry. I look around to see if anyone noticed. I don’t think they did.

I readjust my backpack that’s come halfway off my shoulder and continue my search for Marci. There she is. As usual, she spotted me first. I hope she didn’t see me almost get run over by a scrawny freshman. Maybe not, she’s smiling. I smile back and lift my chin a little to show that I’ve seen her. Her posse winks at me and they all giggle. Maybe they did see it.

I’m a sophomore at Beech High School. I’m five foot seven and only weigh 137 pounds, so a really stiff breeze could knock me over, let alone a freshman.

Grayson is waiting on the bottom step of the bus. Man, are you coming?

Sure, I mumble.

The bus jerks forward as we pile into a seat near the back. We’re all talking and texting at the same time like we always do. At his stop, Grayson taps knuckles with all of us and moves down the aisle like he’s floating on air. All the girls watch him. I just grin. If it wasn’t for Marci, I might be jealous. Well, to be honest, I am a little.

My house is the next stop. Grayson and I only live a block apart in this suburb of Nashville. I drop my backpack just inside the door and go in search of food. After commandeering an apple and a couple of mini Snickers, I plop down in the living room and prop my feet up on the coffee table. I have the TV remote in hand before my head hits the back of the couch.

…the CDC, the news anchor is saying. There’s a Special Report banner at the bottom of the screen with the words Pandemic Emergency beneath it. The White House has issued a statement officially declaring a global emergency and is asking the public to remain calm. Officials are still not confirming or denying the massive number of deaths attributed to this disease. In the U.S., this number has risen…

I scan the on-screen guide while half listening to the report, settling on a rerun I’ve seen a thousand times. Anything’s better than the news. I know it’s bad out there, but I don’t have to listen to it 24/7. Sure, people are dying from this crap, but mostly overseas. Riots in South America and the Middle East. Maybe a few in Europe. Africa’s really bad. I guess that thing in Miami could be called a riot too, I don’t know, but it’s not here. Places like Hendersonville, TN usually don’t get caught up in stuff like that. It’s not going to affect me. My cell phone beeps and I forget all about the flu. It’s a text from Marci.

Saw you, it says.

I put down the half eaten apple and type, Saw you. Doing?

The phone beeps just as I pop a Snickers into my mouth.

Homework, I read. Paper next Fri. Test tomorrow. You?

Same, I lie.

HA! Marci replies, knowing I lie. You’re cute.

Same!!! I type.

I lay down the phone and eat the other Snickers while waiting for the reply. I snuggle deeper into the couch, ignoring the TV and thinking only about Marci. She has light brown, silky straight hair that comes down to her shoulder blades, blue eyes, slender, but nicely shaped. She’s a straight A student, class president for the second year in a row, Beta club and dance team member. But that’s not why I like her. To me, she’s gorgeous and wonderful.

Last Saturday, while studying at her house, we kissed. It wasn’t the first time, but it was – different. It was long and I felt – well, let’s just say I felt it. It led to more kissing and touching until she reminded me that her parents were upstairs. I’ve thought about it all week.

The phone beeps again and I smile when I read the message. You’re awful. Study!

Sure thing, I say out loud. I lay the phone down and get back to the TV.

I hardly notice the kitchen door opening, but the voices of my mom and sister arguing over clothes, cell phones, food, or one of a million other things make me sit up and get my feet off the table just before they come storming into the room.

No! my sister shouts.

She stomps down the hallway and slams the door to her bedroom. My little sister, Mary, is eleven years old and the holder of all wisdom and knowledge. To me, she’s simply The Brat. I suppose I love my sister as much as any brother could, but I avoid her as much as possible too; especially when she’s with her friends.

The way Mom is mumbling tells me I’d better be invisible or I’m going to be collateral damage. Just stay perfectly still and blend into the couch. Well, that doesn’t work. Here she comes. She picks up the half eaten apple and holds it up for me to see. I try to look contrite, but I feel absolute horror when she lays a surgical mask on my knee.

"What do you expect me to do with that?" Did I say that out loud? Oh God, I did. Eyes down, stay still, keep mouth closed. Why can’t I remember that?

"I intend for you to wear this anytime you’re in public places. Mom annunciates each word clearly and stresses the key words in that way I hate. Do you know what’s going on out there?"

Yes, Mom, I say. Don’t be confrontational. Just agree with everything. This virus is really bad. I get it, but we’ve had the flu before. We’ll be fine.

I chance a quick glance up. She’s still holding the apple close to my face. I reach up slowly and take it from her hand.

Sorry, Mom. I’ll take care of this. She picks up the mask off my knee and holds that in front of my face. I know I’m heading for trouble, but this is too much. I’m not going to wear that. Nobody is going to wear that thing. It would be social suicide!

Mom glares at me for a few hours. At least, it seems that way. Then she takes a deep breath and I know I’m not going to get blasted. She finally says, Jacob, this virus is much more serious than any before. People are dying from it and there’s no vaccine yet.

I know, but I got a flu shot last fall. We all did.

Jacob, listen to what I say. The flu vaccine doesn’t work. I talked to your father at lunch. He thinks we’re not hearing the whole story yet. He said the reports are too sketchy for the amount of time we’ve known about this.

Okay, I concede. Dad wouldn’t have said that if he didn’t really believe it. He never freaks out about anything. Not like Mom. But maybe we can take this a little slower?

Mom takes another deep breath and lets it out slowly. I don’t know, maybe I’m overreacting. Dr. Wang was giving these masks out to all his patients and I took it very seriously. This is a bad virus and I want you to take it seriously too.

I will, but you have to remember, Dr. Wang is Chinese. Every time you see the news, the Chinese people are all wearing, I stretch the surgical mask across my face and squint, "these!"

Mom smiles. It’s not a big smile, but it’s enough to break the tension. I’m good at that. Alright, but this is spreading quickly and people around us may have it without knowing it. Just be careful. I want you to have this when it becomes necessary. Agreed?

I can do that, I concede again.

Now I have to go in there and try to talk to your sister.

I wish her the best of luck. Not out loud, of course. This time I keep my mouth shut.

The last things I want to think about are eleven-year-olds and impending flu disasters. I lay the apple back on the table, snag my backpack, and go to my bedroom. I grab my history book and lie down on the bed. Chapter 8, page one. BC times in Africa and the Middle East. Fantastic reading. Just wonderful. I skip around the chapter, trying to pick out stuff that might be on the next quiz. I’m good at that too. Know the teacher and you know what to look for on the test. I kind of like history, but I’m really not interested in it right now. I want to think about Marci, and that kiss. We need to get together this weekend. Maybe watch a movie in her basement. Yeah, that would be good.

I pitch my book toward the foot of the bed and it falls to the floor. I don’t care. I’m uncomfortable. There’s way too much energy in my body.

It’s hot in here, I mutter and jump up off the bed.

What time is it? 4:25: time for Grayson’s jog around the neighborhood. I think I’ll join him. I didn’t run yesterday. I put on my lined wind suit, and yell to Mom on my way out the door to tell her where I’m going.

Grayson’s route brings him by my house but he is not here yet so I stretch while I wait. I get pretty limber before he comes around the corner. I trot until Grayson catches up, and then I match his speed. Just as he gets up beside me, Grayson coughs. It was more like an exaggerated throat clearing, but it bothers me.

I glance over. He looks fine, but I still ask, You okay?

It’s just the cold air, he says. Throat’s a little dry.

Want to stop for a drink?

Nah, you can’t stop me now!

We have a great neighborhood for running. Up Blaylock Street and turn onto Stroud Avenue. I hate Stroud. It consists of a five block slow climb that always leaves me gasping at the top. Grayson usually makes it without slowing down. Today though, he sucks air pretty hard. At the top, he slows down. He never slows down for anything.

You sure you’re okay? I ask again.

Yeah, Stroud kicked my ass. I must not have had enough carbs.

I glance over every time he coughs. It’s still not much of a cough and I tell myself it’s nothing. Just sucking cold air and not enough carbs, like he said. By the time we get back to Grayson’s house, he’s stopped coughing. Everything is fine. No need to worry. He slaps me on the shoulder before he veers off to go into his garage. As soon as he’s out of sight, I slow down. I probably look pathetic. Totally winded and dragging. By the time I reach my house, I have to lean against Mom’s car for a while until I catch my breath.

I’m sweating and freezing at the same time. A hot shower is what I need right now, so I get inside. The hot water’s fantastic. It warms me up and makes me feel human again. I don’t get dressed right away. There’s a full length mirror on the bathroom side of the door. I like to strike different poses in it. You know, just making sure everything looks good. Hey, I’m a baseball player. I have to stay in shape. And, I gotta look good for Marci. I pick at my hair for a while until it’s just right. I like that short, spiky look. So does she.

The apple and Snickers didn’t last long and I’m hungry again, so I head for the kitchen. Dad’s home. I hear him and Mom talking.

I don’t know, Dad’s saying. It’s bad all over. I should learn more tomorrow.

Hey, I say as I walk in.

Hi, Buddy, Dad says. How are you feeling?

That’s an odd question. He usually says, How are you? How was school today? The typical parent stuff. It makes me think about the flu again – and Grayson’s cough.

I feel good, I say. I’m not sick if that’s what you mean. What’s going on?

Dad doesn’t say anything at first. He doesn’t seem scared, but, nervous maybe. Dad has worked in management for Social Security for fifteen years. He’s not a Washington insider by any means, but sometimes he gets some inside information now and then.

This virus may be something pretty bad, Buddy, he says. The media is giving all sorts of conflicting reports and no one will officially commit to anything. No information coming from overseas is being confirmed. I’m not getting the whole story from work either. I may just be paranoid, but something’s going on in Washington that we’re not privy to.

I look from Dad to Mom. Both of them look worried. Dad usually isn’t kept out of the loop. Maybe I should pay more attention to what’s going on.

What does that mean? I ask.

I honestly don’t know, but our schedules all day tomorrow were cleared and we’re going into meetings first thing. There’s definitely more going on than what’s being disclosed. I don’t want you to worry, but I do want you to be – be prepared, I guess. Prepared for what, I don’t know yet, but whatever it is, we’ll take care of it. Okay?

I guess, I say, but it doesn’t sound like I mean it.

I get the impression Dad doesn’t want to say more than that, so I drop the subject. We don’t talk about viruses or jobs for the rest of the evening. After dinner, I help with the dishes and then go back to my bedroom to study, but I still can’t concentrate on history. My parents are scared, not just nervous.

It doesn’t happen very often, but when something’s not quite right and I don’t know what it is, a little alarm bell goes off in the back of my mind. It usually means I do know what it is but I’m not getting it. For whatever reason, I think this virus thing is going to affect me. It’s going to affect all of us. Maybe that’s what the little alarm bell is telling me.

That brings up Grayson’s cough again. He’s one of the healthiest people I know. He usually doesn’t get sick, even when everyone else is suffering from whatever bug is going around. I drop the book on the floor and pick up my phone.

Grayson answers on the first ring. What’s the square root of 324?

I didn’t expect that. You have a math test tomorrow?

Yeah and my calculator’s broken. Over the phone I hear the sound of a small electronic device hitting a distant wall. "And my tutor’s sick. Can I borrow your graphing calculator tomorrow?"

Sure. Then I hear muffled coughing. Grayson?

I’m fine. He sounds irritable. My throat’s just scratchy. It’s nothing. After a short pause, he asks again, What’s the square root of 324?

I feel my friend’s pain. Grayson’s parents took away his smart phone because of his grades, and, needless to say, Grayson doesn’t do math. I bring up the calculator app on my phone. Eighteen.

I hear writing. There’s a pause, some whispered cursing, and then more writing.

Got it. God, math makes my head hurt.

I wonder if something else is making Grayson’s head hurt, but I don’t say that. I choose a safer subject.

You talked to the coach today, right? What did he say about this season?

All irritation leaves Grayson’s voice as he forgets everything except lineups, opponents, and statistics. I relax and think only of baseball – and Marci. About half the time, thoughts of her drown out Grayson’s words. Pretty quickly, I get sleepy. I manage to get Grayson to finish his predictions for the entire season and get off the phone. I’m happier now. Things will be fine.

I slip under the covers and put my hands behind my head. Baseball, friends, Marci: all good things to think about. But this virus that has the adults so concerned keeps popping up in my mind. My phone signals an incoming text from Marci.

Sienna is sick.

Sienna is one of Marci’s inner circle. So much for happy thoughts. Something bad is definitely up. So now what? Be prepared, my dad said. Okay, I’ll get prepared – tomorrow. Tonight, I don’t want to think about it. Everything will be fine. It always is.

I choose not to respond.

Chapter 2

That alarm bell in my head turned out to be right. I knew things were going to get bad. I just didn’t want to admit it.

There had been disasters in the world before, but they had come and gone. I always felt badly for the people in the middle of it and said things like, That’s terrible, and What a shame, like everyone else. I’d pray for them at church, but I never felt connected to it, because, well, it never happened to me.

I didn’t want to think about this one either. There was no need to dwell on things like that, or get into arguments. Confrontation was not my thing. Everybody knew it. Marci said I was afraid of it. Maybe I was, I don’t know. I always tried to use humor and wit to settle conflicts. It usually worked.

It’s not like I didn’t care about things. I wasn’t shallow. I felt very strongly about people. At least, the people I cared about. And I was loyal. I’d stick up for my friends against anyone; no matter how much bigger they were than me.

Like I said, it worked for me. Up to then, my life in the burbs had been quiet, easy and safe; but it wasn’t like that anymore. Adversity was not going to be avoided and I felt inadequate to face it.

Things went downhill fast after Grayson got sick. They cancelled school. We were stuck at home with nothing to do and every TV channel and radio station was telling us how bad it was.

One station said there were over one hundred thirty million dead, one reported over a hundred and fifty, and there were rumors of a lot more. Over half the world’s population was thought to be infected. They said the "do Sul Plague" would be worse than both the Bubonic Plague and the Influenza Outbreak of 1918 together.

Mary started coughing and Mom took her to the doctor. She made me stay home so I wouldn’t be around all the other sick people.

*** *** ***

Mom, think about it, I say. I’ve already been exposed to this.

I don’t care, she says. You’re staying here in case…

In case of what? What do you think is going to happen?

I don’t know. You’re just staying home. Don’t answer the door for any reason.

She gets Mary in the car and leaves me all alone with only the news people telling me how horrible the situation is, and my whole family is out there in it. They keep saying the President will address the nation tonight. We’ll get all the answers then. That’s fine, but I’m freaking out right now.

I get out my cell phone to call Dad, but I can’t get a line. All circuits are busy, the automated voice says, and it stays that way. I wander around the house, looking out every window, hoping to see Mom or Dad pulling into the driveway. I keep trying to call people; Dad, Grayson, Marci, and a dozen others. Nothing. I try my voicemail and I get connected. I have two messages, and they’re both from Mom. I don’t know how she got to my voicemail. My phone never rang.

We’re at the doctor’s office, Jacob, the first message says. She sounds scared. We may be here for some time. Call me.

She’s even more frightened on the second message. Honey, we haven’t seen the doctor yet, but the nurses are certain Mary has this virus. She pauses and takes a deep breath. Your dad’s stuck in traffic. Everyone’s trying to get out of downtown at the same time. He’s on his way here. I don’t know when we’ll get home. Please don’t get sick. I couldn’t – I’m sorry. Call me when you can get through.

I try to call Mom again, but all circuits are still busy. I try Dad and get the same message. Maybe texting will work. Mom doesn’t text, so I send it to Dad and Mary.

Can’t call. No circuits. Text me please!

I press Send. I wait. And I wait some more. I start roaming around the house, holding the phone up in the air, like that’s really going to help. I feel stupid, but I keep doing it. Finally, after over a minute, it sends.

I send a text to Marci and Grayson. I wait. This is ridiculous! This is the age of instant communication and I can’t talk to anybody! I want to pound my phone against the kitchen counter to make it send faster but, of course, I don’t. That would break it, and then where would I be?

My