The Complete Makanza Series: Books 0-4 Read online

  I had a splitting headache by the time my brothers and sisters finally fell asleep. Lars and Elliot slept in their sleeping bags on the floor in Dad’s bedroom. Mina and Aurora slept in the twin beds in the other room. They all slept on opposite sides from one another.

  Dad was passed out in the living room on the couch. His snores filled the air. The only space left for me was by the living room’s far wall.

  I stood in the dark kitchen, watching the MRRA’s distant activity near town.

  Banging carried through the cracked kitchen window. A few miles away, the MRRA was erecting their makeshift quarantine tents. Even at night, they didn’t stop. Harsh lights glowed on the prairie just outside of town.

  By morning, the large tents would be up, like giant cotton balls sprouting from the ground. All of those tents meant that the MRRA expected more people to fall ill and eventually die. The makeshift hospitals didn’t save anyone. Nobody survived the virus. Unless one Changed.

  My brow furrowed at that thought, remembering when it was first realized that Makanza was survivable. But the survivors didn’t come out unscathed. Far from it, according to the rumors I’d heard.

  One reporter had said there were dozens of ways a person could Change if they survived Makanza. I didn’t know what those “dozens of ways” were. It was another secret the MRI refused to divulge, but apparently, the people that survived the virus weren’t normal. The Changes made them different from other humans.

  Those that had survived Makanza four years ago were now housed within the Compounds. People called them Kazzies, and the Makanza Research Institute studied them.

  That was the extent of what I knew.

  I muttered in disgust that the MRI didn’t divulge more before I turned away from the kitchen window.

  Loud snores filled the living room when I crept to the front of the house. A single lamp illuminated the space. Everything else was dark. My dad’s mouth hung open as long locks of hair fell around his shoulders. His chest rose and fell heavily with each lumbering breath.

  A lump formed in my throat as I watched him. He’d never been like this when I was growing up. Sure, he’d liked his beer and whiskey, but he’d never been this bad.

  This dependent.

  It was why he and my mom had divorced the previous year.

  He’d obviously found more alcohol while I was reading Aurora her favorite book that she kept stashed in the back bedroom. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. I’d finished reading it to her an hour ago.

  It had been years since I’d read aloud. Tonight, though, it was like Aurora had regressed to her early childhood. She’d begged me to read it, all signs of pre-teenage independence gone. It was as if she were five years old all over again.

  During that story time, Dad must have drunk more since he was now passed out. Apparently, he had multiple bottles of home-brewed whiskey stashed elsewhere in our decrepit house.

  I should look for them, see if I can find them and dump them all down the drain.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. Normally, he stayed sober during our visits, but the outbreak was apparently too much for him. It only made my job that much harder—keeping it together and making sure my dad didn’t bust out.

  My head spun at what the coming weeks would bring.

  4 – HOME QUARANTINE

  The first two weeks passed by slowly. Painfully slowly. Activity on the reservation grew. More trucks. More soldiers. More tents.

  And there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about it.

  On our seventeenth day in home quarantine, Lars and Aurora occupied the back bedroom while Mina and Elliot sat in the living room. I stood in the kitchen. Dad was in his room.

  Thankfully, we were all still healthy.

  As the days had progressed, we’d grown more used to the separation. Wearing the gloves and masks constantly was hard, though. The gloves made everyone’s hands sweaty, and the masks felt suffocating at times. More than once, I’d yelled at my brothers for taking them off, and Aurora was so small, the mask kept falling down to her chin.

  The news didn’t help my mood.

  According to America News Network, the virus had spread despite the MRRA’s precautions. It wasn’t contained to our reservation anymore. Makanza had sprouted up in every region of the country. The latest story had shown footage in Michigan. Kalamazoo had been hit hard. Tens of thousands had already died there.

  Since I’d insisted we turn the news off for the afternoon, cheerful sounds emitted from the TV instead. Elliot had wanted to watch a movie. Consequently, a disc spun in the ancient DVD player with some Disney movie that kept pausing and skipping. The disc had so many scratches on it, it was a miracle it still ran.

  I paced the linoleum in the kitchen, raking a hand through my hair before tapping in the number to call my mom. We spoke daily, sometimes several times a day, and we had ever since the outbreak. But she sounded different when she answered today, even more scared than usual.

  “Are you sure you’re all still symptom-free?” Her voice shook.

  “Yeah, so far. Only Dad’s sick, but that’s from withdrawals.”

  “Oh no, sweetie. Is it getting worse?”

  I paced again. “Not worse, just . . . bad. He’s in the back bedroom, on the bed, moaning away. I never could find where he hid the whiskey, but he must have run out. He’s been sober four days now.”

  “How bad are the withdrawals?”

  “About the same as they’ve been before.”

  I paused to listen. The sounds of a Disney character singing came from the living room. Other than that, there was silence.

  I walked from the kitchen to the back bedrooms—careful to stay on the path we used to keep distance from one another—and paused outside my dad’s door. From the living room corner, Mina watched me, her knee bouncing as she fidgeted.

  I pushed the door open and breathed a sigh of relief that our dad was asleep on the bed. I hadn’t tied him down that morning, and for a brief moment, I’d panicked that he had crawled out his window and was halfway across the prairie to town.

  Closing the door, I turned my attention back to my mom. “The tremors aren’t helping. Every time I hand him a glass of water, the glass shakes so hard in his hand that most of it sloshes over the side.”

  “Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry you have to deal with this.” The anguish in my mother’s voice was genuine. She’d always tried to protect us from this side of my dad. For the most part, she had. While I’d known for years that he was a drunk, Elliot and Aurora still didn’t fully understand it. They just thought Dad got sick sometimes.

  And while Lars and Mina knew, they’d never had to deal with it like Mom and I had. She and I had always been the ones to pick up the pieces.

  “But you’re not touching him, right? You’re following the guidelines?”

  I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “The MRRA gave us gloves and disposable masks. I wear those anytime I’m helping Dad.”

  “Has he done anything that could jeopardize all of you?”

  I knew what she was asking since my dad had been so unpredictable on his previous attempts to get sober. I’d seen firsthand how bad his withdrawals could get, from the hallucinations to the erratic behavior. Before, he’d never been able to handle it and had succumbed to the urge to drink again. But this time, he had no choice.

  There wasn’t any alcohol.

  “Kind of. Sometimes, it seems like he’s going crazy. Last night, he was screaming at the top of his lungs, yelling that bugs were crawling underneath his skin and that someone was trying to kill him. It took everything I had to keep him inside. He nearly ran through the front door, saying he couldn’t stand it anymore. I’ve had to tackle him twice during the past two days when he’s tried to flee, but that’s only happened a few times. Other than that, it’s been okay.”

  A long pause followed before my mother replied. “I’m so sorry, Davin. You shouldn’t have to be dealing with this. It’s not your job to care
for your brothers and sisters or your father. I should be there.”

  “But you can’t be, Mom.” I ran a hand through my hair again. “None of us knew the virus would come back.”

  “Still . . .” She let out a long breath. “I’m proud of how you’re handling this. I’m not sure many could.”

  We spoke for a few more minutes before hanging up. I paced the hallway. Some days, I felt like a lion pacing my cage at a zoo. Back and forth. Back and forth.

  It was suffocating.

  “Davin?” My younger brother’s voice carried from the living room. At some point during the past few minutes, the Disney movie had ended.

  “Is Dad okay?” Elliot’s voice was small.

  “Yeah, he’s fine.” I put my hands on my hips. “Why do you ask?”

  Elliot shrugged. “It’s just that I haven’t heard anything from his bedroom. He’s been, you know, kind of noisy during the past few days, and now he’s not. I just wondered if he was all right.”

  I frowned. I thought he’d been asleep when I checked on him. Was I wrong?

  “Do you want to watch another movie?” I asked.

  Mina shook her head from where she sat by the wall and ran a hand through her long ebony hair. “Let’s turn the news back on.”

  Aurora appeared from the back bedroom. Her eyes looked sleepy, as though she’d just woken from a nap. Her cheeks appeared thinner than they had a few weeks ago.

  My frown deepened.

  Even though the MRRA had delivered food to our doorstep several times during the past two weeks, there wasn’t enough, definitely not enough to feed four growing children. I’ll give her my entire ration tonight. That’ll help her.

  “Can I come with you to check on Dad?” Aurora’s voice sounded so young as she looked up at me with her startling blue eyes. “I’ll keep my distance. I promise.”

  Frowning, I debated how safe that was. “Okay, fine,” I finally replied. “But you’ll need to stay in the hall.”

  The two of us returned to our dad’s bedroom as Mina and Elliot stayed in the living room. Lars was in the other bedroom, sketching something in a notepad. Of all of us, he’d been the most quiet.

  I twisted the door handle on my dad’s door and opened it. He was still lying in the same position that he’d been in before.

  For a moment, my heart stopped. Is he dead? Forgetting all quarantine rules, I raced to his side.

  Aurora’s horrified gasp followed.

  I crouched down, my gaze rapidly traveling over his frame. A sheen of sweat covered his body.

  Something’s not right.

  “Dad?” I quickly donned gloves from the box by his bed and shook his shoulder.

  He didn’t move.

  “Dad!” I shouted louder. “Wake up!”

  He awoke with a start and opened glazed eyes to meet mine. I jolted back. Those glazed eyes weren’t caused by withdrawals.

  They were caused by a fever.

  “Aurora, get back!” I knew the words were useless, but I yelled them anyway. He has Makanza. We’re all going to get sick. We’re all going to die.

  For a moment, time stood still. The implications of what I was witnessing pierced my heart. Dad was sick. He’d caught the virus. Now, it was only a matter of time before all of us showed symptoms too.

  Mina appeared in the doorway with Aurora hiding behind her. “What’s going on?”

  I gritted my teeth at their close contact.

  Mina’s eyes widened when she got a look at our father. “Oh God. He’s sick!” Her hands flew to her mouth as terror filled her words. “He’s sick, Davin! He’s sick! We’re all going to die! We’re all going to catch the virus, and we’re all going to die!”

  The words spewed from her mouth like lava shooting from a volcano. Within seconds, both of my brothers were at her sides as they peered into the bedroom. Everyone was brushing against one another.

  “You guys, keep your distance!”

  But nobody seemed to hear me. Their focus was too intent on our father.

  “We have to get out of here!” Lars’s large brown eyes grew wide. “We need to take Dad to the hospital!”

  I shook my head. “We can’t. There’s nothing they can do for him there. Besides, they closed the IHS.”

  “But we have to try!” Lars pleaded.

  Elliot merely stood quietly, a slight tremor shaking his small frame.

  I turned back to our father. “Dad? Can you hear me?”

  The fevered look in his eyes remained. He trembled under the dirty sheets. Sweat coated his entire body.

  “Waa . . . Waaaater!” The whispered, feverish demand was so quiet.

  “You’re thirsty?” I glanced over my shoulder. “Mina, get a glass of water from the kitchen.”

  When she just stood there, I said the words louder. “Mina! Get. A. Glass. Of. Water.”

  She finally kicked into action and raced from the hallway. She returned a minute later, holding out a glass to me in her shaking hand.

  Our fingers brushed when I took it. Dammit. We needed to be better at avoiding contact.

  Thankfully, she backed away the second she could.

  But the panicked look on her face and my brothers’ faces did not put me at ease. There had been horror stories in the community about families turning on one another four years ago when they’d all been locked inside, dying from the virus. It hadn’t been pretty. Chaos had not only ruled the streets but inside homes as well. When death knocked at one’s doorstep, civil human behavior flew out the window.

  Aurora approached my side despite my earlier warning for her to stay back. “What can I do to help?”

  Her quiet words nearly undid me. I crouched at our dad’s side and shook my head. “Nothing, Bug. I’ll take care of him. Only one of us should be this close. You really need to move back.”

  Thankfully, she retreated to the hallway without arguing.

  Straightening, I lifted my father’s head and brought the glass to his lips. He slurped half of it down only to begin coughing violently. Intermittent shivers wracked his body. He clutched the dirty blanket to his chest and lay back down.

  I set the water on the bedside table and stood. I knew I needed to wash my hands, but my thoughts raced of what the coming days would bring. We could all die, even though we’d done our best to follow the MRI’s rules.

  But just as quickly as that thought struck me, a burning anger took its place. No. We’re not going to die. I won’t allow it.

  5 – SICK

  By evening, Dad’s fever was raging. His sickness was one hundred times worse than the withdrawals. At least withdrawals were temporary.

  This was permanent.

  Until death claimed him.

  I stood in the bathroom with the door closed. I needed a moment. My brothers and sisters had been either fighting or crying all day. Emotions raged so strongly through our small house that it was hard to breathe.

  Gripping the sink, I leaned into my arms. The hard basin felt cool under my touch.

  The churning feeling in my stomach had grown so much that it felt like a living, pulsing creature was clawing up my throat. While I knew it was likely that all of us would catch the virus—hell, we probably already had it but just didn’t know it—a part of my brain continued to deny it, to fight it. I didn’t want to accept that we would become sick, that our bodies would be burned and turned to ash. It was how the MRRA dealt with the infected. No bodies were allowed to be buried whole.

  The thought of my youngest sister scattered in the wind or buried several feet under the earth . . .

  I squeezed my eyes tightly shut.

  That thought killed me. But what killed me more was seeing how upset Aurora was. And worst of all, I couldn’t hold and comfort her like I usually did when she was scared.

  I leaned more into the basin, wishing again that I understood the virus. If Dad had Makanza, that most likely meant we all did too. But none of us were showing symptoms. So what does that mean? That we won’t get
it? Or is it only a matter of time before we all grow sick?

  I turned from the sink and punched the wall in anger. The drywall cracked under my knuckles and crumbled to the floor. Damn government! Why won’t they tell us more?

  Tiny specks of drywall lay in front of my bare toes. If my mom saw that, she would rush to the closet to retrieve the broom and dust pan. She hated messes.

  But Mom’s not here. You’re in charge.

  I still hadn’t told my mom about Dad. I was dreading that conversation.

  As much as I wanted to punch the wall again, succumbing to my fear and anger wasn’t an option. Knowing that didn’t make it any easier.

  For the first time since we’d been quarantined, tears filled my eyes. How can this be happening?

  A moan pierced the quiet, bringing me back to the present. Dad.

  I opened the door and almost collided with Mina.

  She hastily took a step back. “What’s happening now?” Her long hair was greasy and filled with snarls. Since the MRRA had started rationing water two days ago, bathing daily wasn’t an option.

  “He still has a fever,” I replied. “We need to make him drink.”

  Mina crossed her arms. “But is it safe to go in there?”

  I clenched my jaw tightly. “He’s dying, Mina. Don’t you get that? And we’re probably all going to die too.”

  Her brown eyes grew so wide with terror that I cursed under my breath, regretting that I’d let my temper get the better of me.

  But before I could apologize, she spat, “Well, not all of us are heroes. We can’t all be perfect like you.”

  My nostrils flared. “I never said I was perfect.”

  “Mom seems to think you are. She talks to you more than any of us.”

  “That’s because I’m in charge here!” The roar came out before I could stop it.

  Mina clamped her mouth tightly shut. Her lips quivered.

  I sighed harshly. “Look, there’s no point fighting. It will just make things worse.”

  Tears pooled in her eyes, but she blinked them back. “Yeah, I know. Sorry. I shouldn’t have attacked you like that. I’m just . . .” A tear fell onto her cheek. “Scared.”