We didn’t like the first blooms of Spring.
The flowers opened up into the sun,
As we withdrew into our homes.
We were cowards,
Hiding from what Winter had kept away.
On the third day of April, I checked my bank balance before heading out into the warming weather. It was abysmal. I knew it was time to break out of my cocoon and find another job. Things had been tight since leaving the real estate business, and with the onset of Spring, I thought it was the perfect time for a new beginning.
All around town one could see the signs of The Strickening. There were the reminders to help stop the spread of germs — like incessant hand washing, submitting to scans before entering certain public spaces, and of course, the posters preaching the golden rule: if you have Vera, stay home in self-imposed quarantine. It was sick in a way. Basically, if you know that you’re going to die, please do so away from everyone else. Though it was a principle that kept us all safe (or at least safe-er).
As I made my way to the downtown core, I was able to soak in the emerging colours and the skittish glances of passers-by. We were in that odd time of year where everyone held their breaths against the impending plague in the breeze. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before the first case of Veravirus cropped up, and no one wanted it to be them.
Not even two weeks later would we let out that breath. The geography teacher at the elementary school, Mr. Tisdale, was the first casualty. Which of course raised some warranted panic. Any case that involved people from high-volume locations (schools, hospitals, etc.) meant that more cases were sure to follow.
They closed the school for two days to 1. Disinfect the building, and 2. Allow for the symptoms to manifest in anyone else who had been Stricken but didn’t know it yet. This was the case for a little boy in Mr. Tisdale’s class. Marcus Waterson. Though honestly, only two deaths from a school centered outbreak is considered a success.
Overall, life this time of year was rather secluded; we had minimal community gatherings, and people became homebodies. It was safe to say Veravirus had completely changed how we lived our lives. The goal was always to limit exposure, but even with all the lifestyle precautions and fear-mongering, we would still lose 15–35 people every Strickening.
When downtown, I patrolled the shopfronts, seeking out those elusive signs asking for Help. I was definitely over-qualified for the jobs, but securing an income was critical. Unfortunately, since most people only feigned interest in my application, I think my pathetic desperation was an active repellent. To be fair, I wasn’t all that interested in them either.
It was near lunchtime when I reached ‘Pip’s Restaurant’, with my head hung low, to apply for a waitressing position. Though as if my life hadn’t turned nightmare-ish enough, I saw a table at the back with my former real estate colleagues. They were happily chatting over spinach and artichoke dip.
Before I could slip out unnoticed, I heard Suzette’s soft voice calling to me, “Camilla!”
I turned to see her waving me over. I walked closer to her, Victoria, Jake, and Betsy as I felt my face get hot.
“How are you? We’re just out for some lunch. Celebrating Victoria’s birthday,” she said.
“Oh yes, Happy Birthday Victoria.”
Victoria gave a quiet “thanks” while looking into her plate.
“So what have you been up to?” Suzette asked politely.
“Oh. Nothing much really. I was just here scoping out a potential location for a get-together, but I don’t know, the lighting is a bit dark for me, so I’ll probably have it somewhere else.”
They gave uncomfortable smiles and nods of acknowledgment.
“Well I guess I’ll see you guys later,” I said as I backed away.
I heard Jake whisper a snarky “awkward” as I turned toward the exit. I left without leaving my resume.
As I dejectedly made my way home, I passed the hazmat department outside someone’s house. They were usually just disposing of a body and securing the area or investigating a claim of Vera. Maybe I could get a job with them. Benefits, rewarding work, definitely great job security…but then I remembered my reaction to Meredith being set on fire and thought that I probably didn’t have the stomach for it. That and the notion of being around Vera all the time was frightening.
At home I settled in for the night with my fifth tuna sandwich of the week, trying to forget the day I had. I sat in lamplight as I heard the sounds of rain start to tap at my windows. The struggling buds in my front bed would love the watering. Despite my neglect, they had managed to hold on just in time for help from above. Maybe it was a good omen.
My luck eventually did turn, because after much scouring of the city I was finally able to get a job at City Hall as a clerk. My new job had me mostly dealing with the dull paperwork of licences and preparing Committee minutes, but with enough pay to start eating actual meals again. All in all, I learned that we were like the grease of this place. Clerks also handled city records, elections, freedom of information, and we were the public’s initial point of contact with City Hall.
Loni and I promptly went out to celebrate my good news.
“Here’s to full bank accounts and fresh starts!”
“Cheers to that,” I said as we clinked glasses.
“So how is it working for the distinguished city of Brotebury?” she joked.
I sat back and chewed on the question a bit before answering, “It’s like being in the room with the big curtain…but I haven’t seen behind it yet.”
Downtown, the limestone building bearing ‘BROTEBURY’ stood at the centre of town operations. There were buildings like it in centres of other towns across the country, connected really only in our desire to survive. Since the beginning of Vera, things had become more insular. There was less of a national framework and more importance placed on local governance. Populations were headed by Mayors, working in the interests of the townspeople. Here, that interest was spearheaded by Mayor Gwen Donovan.
I was able to have only bursts of interactions with Mayor Donovan. From afar, she was a pretty unassuming woman. It was only when you had the opportunity to be around her and see how she ran her ship that you realized how savvy she was. But not mean. Never mean. She had a certain grace and gentleness that was very different from my time in the real estate business. I was happy to work under her, admiring her leadership from a distance.
And it was all going well, but again I kept waiting for a big reveal. The more I worked in the epicentre of our town, the more I got the sense that there were things that the everyday person didn’t know. No one came right out and said anything, but it was a feeling.
One day as everyone was looking to leave for the day, this official-looking trio of one woman and two men came into the clerk’s area. I silently hoped they didn’t need a licence of some kind so I could go home, but my boss came to intercept them before they even reached me. He greeted them as he took them into his office, saying a gracious but blunt “goodnight” to me before doing so.
It got me thinking about the fact that this was indeed the house of power, and yet by day everything seemed so humdrum. People came to work, people went home. Maybe there was something behind all the smiles and good-natured banter. In fact, the more civility and normalcy I witnessed, the more I was convinced that they were hints about all the things I didn’t know yet. I was also certain I was being paranoid.
So I forced myself to push away the thoughts that could get me into trouble I didn’t want or need. Slowly I had been able to put my life back together. I was no longer that girl who had done that thing to Meredith Bennett, I was the pleasant clerk who always remembered to water the office plants.
With the city in full bloom around us, I thought I had changed enough to fit into the organism of City Hall. To simply exist within my new reality, plugged into the machine that kept our city breathing.
But the feeling persisted. There was this other time when I needed a signature from a Mr. Paulson and was told to go to room 242. Well, I went and was told that Mr. Paulson doesn’t collect his mail from that room and that I should hold on to the form for the time being. An hour later, this woman approached me asking for the form, saying she’ll return it with his signature. When she came back, I asked where I should have taken it, so that next time I wouldn’t have to bother her.
“Oh, don’t you worry about it. Mr. Paulson is real particular about things. And he’s been around long enough that when he says something, you make sure to listen.”
“How long has he been here?” I laughed.
Smiling, she simply put her finger to her lips as she sashayed away.
I stared after her in fascination.
When I first started working at City Hall I felt like we were the knights in a sparkling white castle, but now the flames of suspicion had been fully stoked. What was going on in the place I spent my days and the town I called home? Maybe our castle wasn’t as white and sparkling as I thought. My imagination took complete control of me in the office downtimes with nothing else to do. It was silly, but the more I worked there that Spring, the more uneasy I was about the whole situation.
It wasn’t long before I learned that not even we were immune to the plagues of the common folk. Sherri in the Recreation and Culture department got Stricken. She was a bit of a busy body, but she brought in treats, so I liked her. Things were a little chaotic during that time, but we had to push through. We were apparently dedicated to remaining the kingdom’s refuge, even with everything on fire.
We couldn’t just shut down the government while the hazmat department did their work in the building, so we set up other areas to work. Transportation Services worked in the basement of a building down the block, Finance and others in the backrooms of buildings in the area, and some people worked from home. Necessary files were sent to the right people, and then back again. There was absolute upheaval in the way things worked, which is how those files ended up on my desk.
I wasn’t supposed to see them. I knew that without a doubt.
Us clerks ended up in makeshift office spaces across the street from City Hall. It was warm in temperature but quite cold aesthetically speaking. The bare room had only one big window and we were all squeezed in there with half of Human Resources.
A young messenger came in one day from one of the other departments spread around the downtown core with a heap of files. Of all people he could have chose, he absentmindedly heaved them onto my desk and left without delay. He obviously was not having a good day travelling to all the fanned-out office spaces.
I tried to correct him, but then just went back to my desk, sighing at the load. I started making my way through them, only glancing at the covers to sort them into piles for their intended destinations. They were from multiple departments — which made me more sympathetic to the intern’s plight.
But I froze when I reached those files that I knew were forbidden fruit. Looking down I saw the manila folder with CLASSIFIED written in black ink. What clerk had access to high-level information like that? Certainly not me. I didn’t even know where Mr. Paulson collected his mail. I turned my attention to the desks of the City Records and Freedom of Information clerks. Maybe they had that kind of access.
I briefly thought that maybe I should alert someone to the obvious mistake. I was recently rehabilitated from bad behaviour, and so I should do the right thing. But maybe these were the answers to the questions I didn’t even know to ask.
My face started to heat up with the enormity of the decision as I cautiously looked around the room. Everyone around me was either whizzing in between desks or engrossed in their own job. No one was paying attention to the everyday occurrence of the simple licence clerk handling paperwork. I gave it not another thought as I stuffed the files into my bag.
They sat there until the end of the day when I could smoothly make my way out of the building. Except “smooth” was the opposite of how I felt. I couldn’t even stop to help a woman who had dropped her purse on the ground. I was a guilty woman and I acted like it. My breathing irregular, eyes wide, and sweat pooling under my arms. The entire way home I thought I heard sirens coming after me. The files were burning in my bag, waiting for me to soak up their secrets.
I shut the door behind me and made sure to lock it. I clutched my bag to my chest until I reached my bedroom where I spilled the contents onto my bed. I picked up the first file folder. It was hefty. I noticed I wasn’t breathing but I didn’t care. I wanted to know the secrets of the castle I worked for. I needed to know what the Queen was hiding.
My mouth had gone dry and my sweaty fingers were about to flip open the cover when — my phone rang. I nearly jumped out of my skin, but I completely relaxed when I saw it was just Loni. I steadied myself as I answered.
“Loni! Hey, can I call you back? I’m right in the middle of something important–”
“Cam. This is important too,” she said.
There was a long pause where I thought she had left. Then I heard a deep sob before she said, “I’m Stricken.”
My heart dropped into my gut as she let out another sob. Again, I began to sweat. Here comes that heat.
Next: The Summer
