This is a fictional story. All names, places, and viruses are used fictitiously. Resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, past or present, are intentional.
If you haven’t read from the beginning, please start at Chapter 1 here.
***
Due Date: 118 days away
A talking head implored us from the TV in the corner of the office.
“These older people who are dying, they’re dying alone. They’re dying alone in hospitals, at home, wherever. But you can bet those rooms are sanitized. You can bet everything’s wiped down. You can bet they’re social distancing. So no one else gets sick. No one’s touching them. No one’s hugging them. They’re suffocating to death, alone. And we’re wondering how to get toilet paper.”
I tuned it out.
I hadn’t slept much the night before. I never meant to stay up late on weekdays, but when it happened, it was usually on Thursday night. I told myself I only had one day left of work and could pull through. The next day, though, I always regretted it.
Chris had us meet in his office for an impromptu meeting. More of a virus update, no doubt.
I wasn’t wrong.
He stopped his work on the computer and addressed us at his table.
“What we’ve seen happening over the past week is what we’ve anticipated. Sales have slowed.”
He paused to mute the news.
“The work is out there. But everyone is putting a freeze on their spending.”
Our sales manager gave his report.
I didn’t pay a lot of attention to the details. I knew what he was saying. They couldn’t sell in a pandemic. That was the word we were using then.
“The sales guys are going down to two days next week. They will be off Wednesday through Friday.”
We all saw it coming, even if we hadn’t mentioned it out loud to each other. The funnel was clearing out. First sales. Then installs. That meant me. Once everyone stopped working, it was only a matter of time before I did too. I just had a longer runway than most people.
“In the meantime, can we do an email blast on the situation with the police?” Chris mimed a headline in the air. “Are you using motion detectors for security? The police aren’t coming.”
That seemed aggressive. But no one had a problem with it. It wasn’t not true. That was the crazy part. The police really weren’t coming.
“Ben, can we get a slide on the lobby TV on this too?”
I snapped back to the conversation.
“Sure. I was thinking to do one on safety tips and stuff?”
“Do both,” Chris said.
So I did.
That’s when I learned about the glove situation too, putting the slides together. They were telling us not to wear gloves anymore. The gloves would get contaminated and cause more problems. Instead, they recommended that we avoid touching surfaces that could be contaminated and wash our hands regularly. Chris had given us a giant bottle of hand sanitizer for our floor. I put something about that on the slide.
“You okay?” Jerry asked, stepping into my office. “You didn’t look so good in there.”
“I’m okay. Tired,” I said.
“Tell me about it. I couldn’t get to sleep last night. Too anxious. I don’t even know why, really. The news, the economy. All of it, I suppose. Same with you?”
I stopped what I was doing and asked him what I was thinking.
“In World World II, how did people know when to leave Germany or Poland or wherever? Like at the time you just look like a crazy person. You feel like a crazy person.”
“And if you’re wrong,” he jumped in, “then you’ve given up your job, house, whatever to go live out in Oldham County for no reason.”
“It’s tricky, right?”
“What’s the worst that could happen?” he asked.
“The worst case isn’t me dying. The worst case is everyone I care about getting killed and me having to live with that.”
I wanted to say “getting tortured to death and me having to live with that.” That seemed too graphic for a workplace conversation. I censored back to the former version.
“Do you believe in Jesus?” he asked.
It took me off guard.
“Probably why I didn’t take this thing seriously,” I said.
“Does your family, believe in Jesus?”
“More than I do, I think, right now.”
“Wouldn’t it be infinitely better then for them to go meet God face to face in all his glory, and you go meet them there?”
“I don’t know. I mean, yes, the correct answer is yes. But do I believe that? I’m not sure.”
“What’s keeping you from believing?” he asked.
I thought about the question for a moment.
“I believe there’s a heaven and hell. I think heaven is a lot better than hell. Heaven’s also a lot better than here. But we’re not just supposed to kill ourselves now so we can get to heaven sooner. There’s got to be a reason to stay here.”
“If you’re still here, if any of us are, there’s a reason,” Jerry said.
“It’s not that I don’t believe, Jerry. It’s that I don’t think I’m done here. I don’t want to be.”
That’s why I’d stayed up until 2:00am watching YouTube videos on how to clear a home with a knife. No one had uploaded any tee-ball bat videos.
I continued.
“Is it wrong to think of the worst-case scenario? You of all people know how important it is to plan ahead.”
“If you’re not thinking of your worst-case scenario by now,” he said, “I’m not sure you’re thinking at all.”
