Chapter 01, Quarantine
By: Jonathon Best
Tags: Cyberpunk, Dystopian Fiction, Serialized Fiction, Ebooks Online, SciFi

Chapter01 — Quarantine

LEON SWITCHED THE RADIO off for now, favouring the heavy drumming of the rain against the windshield. It consumed him, and briefly he forgot the world and its problems. Despite whirring down the country lane at high speed, he felt he could almost curl up in his cocoon of rain and thought and drift peacefully to sleep.

A road sign pulled Leon from his dreamy haze. He squinted, barely making out the distorted rectangle through the bursting droplets against his window. Recognising it as his turn, he screeched the removals van sharp to the left, skidded across both lanes, and fought the sodden tarmac for control of the wheels. Leon’s electric engine whined in protest as he corrected and barely avoided being swatted from the street by an oncoming truck.

Leon pulled to the side, heart racing, and took a moment to calm himself. He let warm thoughts of whisky, radio waves, and his armchair surround him. He only noticed the approaching figure when it stepped into the headlights, and the shock set his heart racing again. The figure wore full protective gear of a sort Leon had never seen before, and it had a strange instrument hanging from its waist. The thing that caught Leon’s attention, however, was the firearm in one hand, its barrel glowing a cool blue. A speaker on the figure’s suit clicked alive and broadcast a voice.

“This area is under quarantine. Stay in your vehicle and turn back immediately.”

Leon sat, confused. He glanced through the downpour and saw one house, barely a silhouette, covered in foam. He had previously seen the foam in the news, where he watched the government systematically foam his parents’ old suburb. It was the only protective measure against the outbreak of a mysterious and supposedly deadly parasite.

More trucks like the one Leon had just passed were parked at all angles, barricading the road. A flash came from between them. Then another. He couldn’t hear much through the rain, but he didn’t doubt that the flashes belonged to gunshots.

The figure’s speaker blared once more. “There is a detour through Highway 7. Remove yourself from this area immediately. It is for your own safety. I will not ask you again.”

The figure twitched a finger and the firearm barrel darkened, turning a muddy red.

Leon pulled himself from his shock and clicked his van into reverse. He flew backwards down the road, only turning completely around once the foamed house was well out of sight. He switched on the radio, hoping to catch a broadcast about what was going on, but found nothing but pop songs and infomercials. As he sped towards Highway 7, he began calculating just how much longer the trip would now take him. He shook his head with disappointment, knowing it was going to be yet another long night on the road.

Leon adjusted the station and cranked up the volume to distract himself from the thought of an outbreak so close to the city. He could at least try to enjoy the detour. The much-disliked Discussions FM had already given way to its follow-up program, and DJ T’s soothing beats soon worked their magic on Leon’s stirring mind.

“Thanks to the Pepper Corns for that explo-zastic taste of the new rock that’s here to shock. And now to bring this baby back to the ground with a smooth blend of melodies that will melt in your ear holes. This is DJ T, and you’re listening to Ocean Air, the cooling waves that guide you home.”

Like always, the radio seemed to do the trick. Leon felt as if no time at all had passed as he bumped into the customer’s driveway. The customer, of course, felt differently. She was leaning against the wall of the open garage, just out of the rain, and looked as if she’d been waiting there for quite a while.

“What time do you call this?” she croaked between cigarette puffs.

Leon reluctantly climbed out of the van, re-tuning his focus from DJ T to real life. He grabbed a rain jacket from behind his seat and popped the lock for the back hatch in one practised motion. He began dropping boxes into the garage, one after another, as quickly as he could. Almost as an afterthought, he looked back at the woman and asked, “Hear anything about the roadblock back there?”

The woman flicked her cigarette into the damp earth. “Ah, roadblock, was it? I wondered when you would give me your excuse.”

Leon was ready to tell the story but decided he would rather just finish the delivery sooner and get himself home. The woman sucked her teeth and disappeared into the house. With the finalising click of the lock on the hatch, Leon climbed from damp earth to driver’s seat. He turned on the radio once more.

Melting back, Leon felt the first smile of the day reach his lips. He was fighting the urge to close his eyes as he pulled back onto the highway with his whining engine. DJ T’s music grew over him like a fresh blanket made even warmer by the cold rain still hammering outside. Leon flew on into the darkness, looking forward even more to that whisky he’d promised himself.

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