The rats had been the first to die. No one was really certain of when it started…one day the rats were there and the next they were gone, or so it seemed. Downtown areas always have rats, no matter how clean and bright a city may be. Austin was no exception. The fine restaurants that drew so many people downtown had dumpsters behind them which drew the rats into the dark alleys. Not really something you think about when enjoying an eight-course dinner at the Driscoll Hotel, but there you have it. That tiny piece of filet mignon left on your plate would taste the same to a rat as a greasy stale potato chip from the bar’s dumpster two doors down.
Becky’s mind cracked a little bit as she envisioned a rat wearing a tuxedo seated at a linen-covered table, dining on filet mignon. The temperature under the shade of the overpass had to be at least 110 degrees and her dark hair was plastered to her head with dampness. She’d never liked Texas summers but this one was worse than any she could remember. It was as if the Fates had decided to see what other misery they could inflict upon a world already destroyed.
She gazed at the stretch of freeway before her. Folks had been excited about its construction. It was more art than a means to get from point A to point B. Beautiful stone mosaic patterns decorated the walls lining the pavement. The heartbeat of Austin had been painstakingly depicted in the images created by local artists. Here was a piano and guitar done in limestone and pink granite, a tribute to Austin’s live music scene. Farther up were Texas longhorns grazing in a pasture dotted with bluebonnets, composed in shades of red sandstone and blue agate. The freeway’s only occupants were empty dust-coated cars, most of their tires flat and windows broken out. Some determined weeds had managed to break through the asphalt to grow in the shade provided by the vehicles.
The news stations had reported that the virus started in North Korea. Becky hadn’t been the type to follow world news so she didn’t know exactly why the North Koreans had created such a monster or for what political reasons they unleashed it upon the world. All she knew was that everything had ended. Her entire family, her friends and co-workers, and everyone she’d ever known had all died within the first two months. The hospitals had still been open, but there was nothing that could be done. The virus was indestructible. Radio and television broadcasts had stopped about a month later. Becky hadn’t seen another living person in six months. As far as she knew, she was the only person alive in Central Texas. Somehow she’d been immune; something cursed daily.
Some species had complete immunity to the virus; crows, horses, snakes (ugh). The ones she thought of as the “good” animals had all died…dogs, cats, rabbits and the things you could actually cuddle. Several months ago, Becky had found a sweet but skittish horse wandering along 6th Street. The mare had been a real beauty and she’d bonded with Becky quickly. She had called her Princess because the horse wasn’t the typical rangy quarter horse so often seen in the area. No, she was a beautiful Arabian and probably worth more than Becky had earned in an entire year as a secretary. Within a couple weeks, she was riding Princess bareback through the deserted city streets. The gentle mare followed her everywhere, likely for the companionship as much as the food and treats that Becky had been able to find for her.
A slight movement to her left brought Becky’s attention back down to the road. A large rattlesnake was moving along the pavement toward one of the cars. The snakes seem to prefer bedding down in the vehicles during the nights, probably because the cars held the sun’s heat long into the evening. This was precisely the reason Becky sat under the overpasses late in the afternoon every day. It gave her a shady spot to observe the snakes’ movements. This particular snake was a big one; close to the same size as the one that killed Princess.
They’d been walking along the curb on Congress Avenue, Becky seated on the horse. Neither one had spotted the rattler coiled up among the weeds. The thing didn’t even rattle; just struck like lightening at the mare’s legs. Princess reared in terror, flinging Becky from her back to land hard on the street where she’d blacked out. She’d woken hours later to find the horse lying in the street next to her, breathing heavily, her eyes rolled back in pain. Her right front leg was swollen to four times its normal size. She’d cradled the mare’s head in her lap for hours hoping the horse would survive. She didn’t.
Becky swiped at the tears as she rose to her feet. Removing the handgun from her backpack, she descended the steep incline down to the freeway, her eyes on the Mazda the snake had crawled up in to. She approached the car and lifted the door handle. The unused hinges protested with a loud squeak as she pulled open the door. The snake was coiled right in front of the driver’s seat. It stared at her with cold eyes, vibrating its tail and issuing a loud warning as it spied the threat she posed. Becky took careful aim and fired, separating the snake’s head from its body. The sound of the shot echoed along the empty streets.
“For Princess,” she whispered.
For now, killing rattlesnakes was enough reason to go on. But the anger wouldn’t last forever. She looked at the gun and caressed it gently. Every night before she went to sleep, she held it to her head, finger firm on the trigger as tears dried on her face. She hadn’t yet found the courage to pull the trigger but she was getter closer every night
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