"The two loverbirds have returned!" Bree teases us as we walk through the door.
"Ha ha," I say, unamused.
"For the one billionth time, Briana, please leave them alone!" Mom calls from the kitchen. "And by the way, dinner is ready."
That stupid grin is plastered on Bree's face. "Fine, I'll leave them be. For now. But when I find them in Macky's bed doing who knows what, I will inform my parents." Nat blushes slightly, and I shoot Bree an annoyed look.
"Oh please, that won't happen," I say.
Briana sets the table, and the five of us sit down for a meal of tortellini.
"No canned soup?" I quip, looking at Mom. She smiles.
"No, not tonight. I thought we'd have some variety since the world is ending and all." The table falls quiet. "I'm sorry." Mom passes Nat a bowl of the pasta, then hands one to me. Dad tries to lighten the mood.
"The world might end, but we won't stop being a family." Mom touches Dad's arm and smiles, then finishes serving us dinner.
"So, Natasha," Mom begins. "I understand your father is gone on a business trip." Nat shoots an accusatory glance my way, then tries to smile. I mouth the words "sorry." She gives me a subtle nod and responds to my mom's comment.
"Yeah, he left a note, but for all I know, he could very well be dead. He hasn't texted or called since he left."
"Oh, I'm sure he's—"
"It's fine," Nat interrupts. "I'm okay. He hasn't always been there… but I guess he's still my dad." She offers a half-smile, "I'm okay," she repeats.
The rest of dinner mostly consists of talking about preparing for the apocalypse and music. Something we all seem to have in common.
When we're finished, Nat and I move to the living room. She walks up to our full-sized standing piano and runs her hands across the smooth finish.
"So, Macky, do you play?" she asks.
"I don't remember if I do or not. I'm still recalling old memories," I say, sitting on the bench. I press middle C and move up the scale.
"It's been a long time since I've heard that sound," Mom says, leaning against the entryway.
"Do I know how to play?" Mom smiles back at me. "I can't remember since, um—you know."
"Yeah, I don't remember either." Mom turns to back face into the kitchen. "John, do you remember if Macky played the piano? When um, you know—" I strike an A chord and play a little trill.
"I think he did." Dad calls back from the kitchen sink. Mom places a music book in front of me.
"Can you read this?" She opens the book to a page labeled "Mom's Favorite Song."
I look at the page in front of me and press the first note. It's a G on the same octave as middle C. The next note is D, then B, followed by A, B, D again, B and then D.
"You recognize it?" Mom asks.
I play a little further, and the section I have just played repeats.
"I think so," I reply, playing the next bar. It, too, repeats.
Before I can guess the song, Nat beats me to it.
"Suite Number One in G? It's by Johann Sebastian Bach."
"That's right," Mom says.
I play further into the song, and it becomes more complex. I finish the long song with a G major chord.
Nat gives me a round of applause, and Mom and Bree join her. Mom picks out another song for me to play. This time, the music sheet has the name of the song labelled at the top of the page. The song is called Pachelbel's Canon.
I start to play the first few notes, going partway down the scale as I do. Then I continue, this time playing with chords.
"Man, I absolutely love this song," Nat says, standing beside me.
After that song, I play two more: Für Elise and Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy.
"Well, aren't you a natural," Dad comments as he emerges from the kitchen.
Nat sits down next to me and plays Mary Had a Little Lamb. Then, I teach her Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.
When we are done playing piano, Dad turns on the television. There is more news concerning the coronavirus, and the same reporter as before fills the frame.
"The five people who were attacked by the rogue—infected man earlier today have also seemed to become rabid, and are trying to attack and infect the rest of the people at the hospital. It was thought that the virus only exhibited symptoms in its victims after two weeks of being infected.
Now, nearly half of this hospital is infected. That includes staff and patients. It's only a matter of time before they, too, turn rogue. Emergency responders are trying their best to keep the rest of the hospital safe by isolating certain parts of the facility.
This is just one of many recorded cases of a severe outbreak. This virus is truly an apocalyptic event that has killed, is killing, and will kill millions, if not billions. The name COVID-19 is no longer relevant to this virus. The name has been officially changed to Escherichia Vexon, meaning quick to infect, and always mutating. Scientists are ready to give up trying to research a cure for it."
The camera cuts to the horrible scene before the viewers. Just as the reporter is signing off, an unrestrained rogue breaks free and leaps in front of the cameraman, attacking him.
His screams slowly fade as he becomes infected with the parasite, no longer identified as a virus. He drops the camera face-up near the reporter, and she realizes what is happening too late. Both infected men pounce on her to infect her.
This scene is a trainwreck that we can't look away from, but also wish will end.
Dad reaches for the remote, his hands shaking, and then clicks it off.
I look around, and all the women's faces show the utter shock and horror of what they've just witnessed. Bree and Dad eye the front door, as if a rogue might smash through it and come inside to infect all of us.
Mom nods her head slowly.
"Yep, this world is definitely coming to an end," she says, accepting this fact solemnly.
"I think I should probably go home now," Nat says, already starting for the door.
"Wait!" I call, concerned. "There might be rogues in the city by now, and who knows how many citizens are just sitting ducks just waiting to be infected."
Mom takes a stand with me. "Macky's right, Natasha, there could be—"
Nat cuts her off. "Please, it's just Nat."
Mom tries to continue, "Ok, Nat. You really should stay—"
She cuts her off again. "There is something really important at my house. If I'm actually going to stay here, I need to pack a bag."
"I can drive her." Dad takes the initiative and grabs his coat and the keys to his truck.
"I'm coming too," I say. I want to be with Nat as much as I can before something really goes sideways.
"No, Macky, I need you to stay and protect your mother and sister."
"His mom and sister can protect themselves," Bree states.
"And each other," Mom adds.
"If anything happens to us, it's better that only two of us get infected, instead of three," Dad finishes.
"Fine," I say, hating this situation.
We watch them leave, hoping no rogues have made it to our block yet.