Pandemic

By Cosmin Baiu

When a global pandemic kills most of humanity, a couple past their prime finds refuge in a cabin on a mountaintop.

As months go by, they find themselves increasingly out of touch with reality and affected by loneliness and isolation.

Until one night, on a terrible blizzard, someone knocks on the door…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publishdrive
• Release date: May 21, 2020

Book preview

PANDEMIC

Table of Contents

Title Page

PANDEMIC

I.

II.

III.

IV.

EPILOGUE

Translated by Silvana Dobos

(c) 2020, Cosmin BAIU, All Rights Reserved

Partial and/or Full Reproduction of this material is strictly forbidden without the author’s written consent

When a global pandemic kills most of humanity, a couple past their prime finds refuge in a cabin on a mountaintop. As months go by, they find themselves increasingly out of touch with reality and affected by loneliness and isolation.

Until one night, on a terrible blizzard, someone knocks on the door...

I.

- We’re almost ready , the woman mumbled under her breath while she was wiping the dusty marble of the fireplace with a cloth. By God, I toiled...the whole day! Hey, George, what’s the time, it’s six, isn’t it?

The woman strengthened her stooped back, which made her wince. Thousands of wrinkles, carefully gathered throughout the years, emerged to betray her age for a moment. Tall and lean, Teodora could easily pass for a woman in her forties to the shallow observer, paying attention to shapes only. She was actually 55 and she never talked about it. The more so because George was not even 45 yet!

The man, who was tinkering with the massive grandfather clock in the corner, an ageless antique, stopped for a moment and checked his watch. He remained like that for a while, lost, as if he was daydreaming. An old habit the woman was well aware of, but for which she had never received a satisfactory explanation. At last, his pupils dwindled and his eyes focused on the old clock, with its yellowed dial, a gift from times past.

- It’s seven...it’s gotten dark...look!..., he said and he pointed to the nailed window.

The window in question was practically covered by four planks, all skillfully lined up and nailed to the wall with thick spikes. A fifth plank was nailed diagonally over the others, to increase their resistance, although the couple knew that behind them the window was protected by thick cast iron bars, impossible to cut by a thief or assailant without drawing attention.

Incidentally or maybe intentionally, the two could look outside through an eyehole carved in one of the planks, no bigger than a square inch. George and Teodora could watch the sky through it, but the hole was perfect for inserting a dark gun barrel.

The woman drew her right hand to her back and pushed hard, to the bone, then she jerked, struck by pain. She took the dust cloth and indifferently ran it along the fireplace again. She had lost her spirits long ago, if she ever had them. She raised it to eye level and watched it carefully, as if she was expecting to see some repugnant bug hanging there, then she threw it on the backrest of a battered sofa.

- That’s it, I’m beat, I give up!... How many times have we cleaned this week? I think this is the fifth or sixth time, though it’s only Wednesday!... It’s Wednesday, right? We went crazy locked up in this house, really, George!...

- Well, since the TV’s broken..., he said defensively, aware that he had already said it at least a thousand times so far, until the reply became more worn than the dust cloth that watched him disdainfully from the sofa.

Luckily, they still have electricity, even though the power fluctuates so much that it had burned all their appliances one by one...except for the lightbulbs, which flicker terribly several times a day, making them tremble in fear of the thought that they will remain in the dark. They’re happy that they have light in their cabin, that they can see each other, they can look one another in the eyes now, when it’s almost dark outside and there’s a blizzard, and the snowbanks are over 40 inches high. It has snowed so heavily over the past few days...he would like to go out a bit, to shovel the snow around the house, to dig a path...but he knows very well what that means, there’s no need for Teodora to stop him.

- It’s getting harder since the vacuum cleaner broke...good thing there’s only the two of us locked in here...we’re not making too much mess, right?! she asked dreamily.

She is staring vacantly, which is driving George mad, especially since they had to spend all their time together, locked here, in the cabin. How long has it been? Five weeks? Six?... Or maybe, God almighty, nine...?!

He unwittingly passed his hand over his face and became startled by the cold sweat drenching his forehead and temples. He wiped it with his shirt’s sleeve. Maybe the disease was already at work inside of him, he told himself, frightened, but he decided to keep the information for himself.

He tramped across the tile floor, realizing how surprised he was that he had his snow boots on. He couldn’t remember putting them on, maybe the subconscious was playing tricks on him.

- So, are we eating anything?!..., he muttered wearily, watching her from below, up to her shoulder line.

He seldom raised his eyes lately, as if he was embarrassed or ashamed to see her face, to admit his defeat here beside her, prisoners in this damned cabin, built on a damn mountaintop, at the end of the world! He preferred to speak impersonally, to a neutral being that would reflect his thoughts and words back,