Until it Begins to Snow

Not all death is equal. Each has their own pros and cons, just like anything else. Though, in this case, you don’t typically get to choose which befalls.

Some are instantaneous, like a swift blade chopping off the head. The person dies before they even realize they’ve been injured, free from any additional suffering or torment. One can even call this a mercy compared to the alternatives.

Then there are the slow ones, ranging from the cold to the excruciating. If you’re lucky, the pain will be the same as an instantaneous death. If you’re not, the agony can be prolonged for months if not years. However, with the correct mental capacity, you will live, maybe not the way you desired, but live nonetheless.

As for me, I…

Tick.

The wind howled just outside, rattling the windows of the shabby wooden house. An eerie green glow settled in the room, though the others simply felt the encroaching darkness of the night sky. While this was one of the few houses with solar panels, the snow had made them useless. Instead, two candles lit the area – one held by Andrea, the other by Robert, the businessman. It typically made sense to clean off the panels to receive some electricity, but–

“How is it?” Robert asked apprehensively.

I shook my head. “He probably won’t last until the end of the week.” I glanced back at the frail town physician, hacking up blood. It had only been a month and a half since the first snow fell, and the number of cases grew exponentially alongside. As expected, we ran out of drugs in the first two weeks long before we could help everyone. The elders tried to prioritize the children, but that only served to lengthen the deterioration. The most we could do was provide comfort as the eternal rest took hold.

Tick.

Andrea, Robert, and I put back on our coats as we made our way to the next house. While they were technically neighbors, in a rural town like this, it was at least a ten minute walk through the harsh light snow blowing around. I was up in front carrying the lantern while the other two followed behind. Unlike mine, their movements were a bit sluggish, meaning the rampant illness was latching onto them as well. However, unlike the others, both of them were healthy adults, so it wasn’t having a major impact yet. Still, I couldn’t see them lasting more than… no, let’s not dwell on that. I should just be glad they weren’t on their last legs.

Eventually, we made it over. I didn’t bother giving a knock, instead opening the unlocked door. With everyone ill, there was no one but us to take care of them, so it didn’t make sense to lock anything. Though, the only reason we could do this was because of how trusted Robert was.

I made my way over to the bedroom as the other two collapsed onto the floor from the exhausting walk. Andrea started to grumble like usual while Robert tried to calm her anger, albeit unsuccessfully. It was a rather familiar comedy routine, and I was happy seeing Andrea express herself. Becoming a babysitter had really done wonders, but in this situation…

Tick.

“Oh… is that you again, Casey?” a hoarse voice echoed. An old man and a young boy laid side-by-side underneath the covers of the bed. The old man turned his head slightly, gazing into mine with such strength that belied his near-death stature. The young boy, on the other hand…

“I see…” I said, almost coldly as I lightly gripped the man’s hand, taking a seat on a nearby chair.

“I always thought I would be the one to go first. Never did I expect that my daughter or my grandson would beat me to it, ha ha…” I couldn’t say anything. What would hollow words of comfort give? Plus, unlike Andrea, he had already accepted their deaths as a matter of fact.

“You already knew then?”

“Ha! We all raised Robert like one of our own. It’s easy to tell when that idiot is lying.”

“I don’t think you need to raise him to know that much. He is a terrible liar.”

“Ha ha, you’re not wrong.” Although the man laughed, blood dribbled out of his mouth. I tried to wipe it with a paper towel, but he simply tilted his head and spat it on the ground. “It’s not like anyone’s gonna use this house later,” he mumbled.

We sat there for what seemed like a while in silence. The smell of soup wafted into the room, probably a mash of whatever Robert found in the cupboard. The old man had a soft smile on face, marred with a hint of sadness.

“Why didn’t you tell him that you knew?” I finally asked.

“About my children? How could I? We’re not stupid enough to miss a giant green dot in the sky. But we all knew how much he was doing for us, trying to keep us all hopeful for the future. He even gave up his chance of leaving for that. We’re all thankful he stuck around with these geezers for so long.” His hand roughly moved across the young boy’s head, his hand still in his. “Hey Casey, mind if I ask you a favor? Consider it the last thing you need to do for us giving you a place here.”

I gave a slight nod, not that I think he saw. His eyes were already glazed over.

“Please take care of Robert. He’ll probably be the only one of us to see the flowers bloom once again. And tell him how much we love him…”

Tick.

“Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure he knows.” I stood up, walking just out of the room. Robert stood against the wall, holding a half empty bowl of soup. The rest had poured out from his shaky hands. Andrea took the bowl out of his hands while I gave him a pat on the shoulder, pushing him towards the door. Andrea and I both smiled at each other, one of acceptance rather than happiness.

“You don’t want to see the boy?”

“I’ve already said my goodbyes this time around. I don’t need to drag it out any further,” Andrea retorted. “Though, it still makes me feel a bit sad.”

“I see.”

The sounds of a quiet laughter and muffled sobs rang through the rest of the night.