Pathos

[MDSVeritas 299]

(Another short story I wrote alongside The Climb. This one is more down-to earth, and more focused on one scene as opposed to a world and story at large. Might be a little sad too.)

 

Pathos

 

“After the string of new infections and the rapid growth of this unidentified epidemic that has harrowingly gripped the nation and even the world, the Centers for Disease Control has issued a statement saying that all known victims are in quarantine and they do not believe the outbreak has spread further. People can rest easy now that such diligent researchers have curtailed what many have called the modern bubonic plague. Several weeks ago-”

 

The newscaster spoke with clarity, her turquoise eyes focused on the camera, and her gleaming dark gold hair tumbled carelessly down in a manicured attempt to look natural. Behind her was a shimmering marble-colored building, surrounded by lush vegetation brimming with vitality. As her excessively red lips moved the motion was crisp and detailed- as if one might actually be there.

 

They always gave the good TVs the ones who weren't going to make it.

 

The man in the bed sighed and peered around the room; immaculate glass adorned one of the walls, the rest were simply blankly white. The room was barren besides a rolling medical table, some monitors and IVs and a chair in the corner. The room had the strong odor of chemicals and sterility.

 

When the door on the glass wall side slid open -smooth and mechanical as it always was- the man in the bed turned away from it.

 

“Hey.”

 

As the man's eyes widened the wrinkles on his forehead grew more pronounced and he turned toward the door to see the familiar young man in the protective suit they always wore- a glass visor over most of his face.

 

“Sorry, I thought you were...” the older man started.

 

“No, just me.” The younger man smiled a genuine, but strained smile. Only part of his face was visible due to the glare from the overhead lights on his visor.

 

“I... It's good to see you.” The older man's voice was raspy and straining, and a few seconds after he finished speaking he erupted into a fit of violent coughs and sputters.

 

“Are you okay-” the younger man rushed to the older one in the bed, but the coughing man just waved him off as it subsided.

 

“And so, by the end of today, CDC officials have confirmed that all current victims will be given a mixture of anesthesia, and several lethal chemicals to stop the disease from progressing and to not allow any of the later symptoms previously noted to affect the current victims.”

 

“Three-thirty.” the older man spoke dryly. As the younger man's face turned puzzled he elaborated; “That's the time they said to prepare for.” the older man glanced worriedly at the scratched and scuffed metal watch that had once been an expensive commodity. “It's close.”

 

“Close-” the younger had the tone of a caring parent, “but not here yet.” He smirked as he admired the scratches on the older man's watch. “They let you bring that old thing in here?”

 

The older man turned his head slightly and with effort toward the younger man, wearing the rebellious smile he so loved.

 

“Ha, they wouldn't be able to take it if they tried.” he spoke as he peered at the flawed glass of the watch as it were a window to some other scene. “You were eighteen- no, seventeen when you gave this to me. It was your 'I'm sorry' gift, right?”

 

“Hmp” the younger man smiled, a little amused and embarrassed by the recollection, “you remember? I was hoping you'd forget that.”

 

The older man laughed softly and painfully- the most he had been able to muster in the past few days.

 

“Like I'd forget the day you told me you weren't going to be a wood carver. You had that squirrelly look on your face when you told me you wanted to be an epidemolig-”

 

“Epidemiologist.” the younger man offered gently.

 

“Yeah, yeah- that one. You looked so scared,” his cheeks tightened as he smiled and his wrinkles gathered on the corners of his eyes, “but you weren't wrong- you said you knew what you wanted to do in the world, and you could make it. The watch was nice though.”

 

The younger man paused for a moment.“Listen... I'm sorry you had to sell the shop...”

 

“Don't you give me that.” even with commands the older man was gentle. “The man I sold to will do it proud, and you get to do what you love. I still remember how great it was to see you walk across that stage the day your graduated. I mean, you were late of course-”

 

“I was finishing some research for the grant and-”

 

“I know, I know. Doesn't mean you're not always late to things.” The older man had another soft laugh at that one, but it transitioned quickly to coughing. The younger man waited for it to subside.

 

“Well... I know who I get that from, then.” The both smiled, and for a moment the gleam of the overhead lights shifted and the older man got a good look at the younger one's smile.

 

“The dedication, of these researchers cannot be overemphasized, with one lead researcher reportedly stopping an outbreak by recognizing early symptoms in a family member and-”

 

The visage of the blonde newswoman dissipated to blackness, and the younger man put down the remote.

 

“Listen, I'm sorry that-” the younger man could barely start speaking.

 

“Hold it. You've got nothing to be sorry for. I was already... but you stopped any more people from catching it. I...” The older man struggled to move his arm towards where the younger man was sitting. He smiled softly as the younger man grabbed his hand.

 

“I'm proud of you. I don't say it often- I know, but I'm so proud of you. You've been a better man than I could ever have hoped.”

 

The younger man said nothing, but his eyes reddened. The older man brought his other arm up to check his watch.

 

“Ha...looks like the guy they sent is running late.” He smiled slightly, and then rested his eyes a bit.

 

The younger man held tightly onto the older one's hand, looking at the peaceful wrinkled face through the glass visor, listening as the quiet breaths grew softer and softer, until the room was quiet. He glanced at the empty syringe on the floor that the older man never saw him bring in. Then he took one final look at the resting man though crimson-stained and tear-brimmed eyes.

 

“No, dad. This time he made it early.”

Edited April 15, 2014 by MDSVeritas