The Cough

In a world ravished by disease, four children lock themselves up for protection. But are they really safe?

The four children remained still. Each not daring to move a muscle as they huddled close to each other in a tight-knit circle that surrounded the dull illumination of the candlelight. Throughout the lodging, there was an inert silence except the lull of four silent bodies breathing heavily in trepidation. During the day, they were welcome to move freely about their own home. The oldest daughter, Athena, who was ten, might meander to the kitchen to fix up some food with what limited resources she had. The oldest of the children, Achilles, being just two years older than Athena, at age twelve, might follow her in curiosity, making sure she wasn’t being unnecessarily lavish with what little provisions they had left. Menoetius who was two years younger then Athena, at age eight, would vanish off in silence, disappearing into his own silent world. And little Charis, three years younger then Menoetius, at age five, would play with her dolls. She would carefully dress them up in their nicest clothes as she staged out a perfect family. It was during the day that it could have been the most customary. The sun would lightly seep through the cracks in the boarded windows and elucidate what would have been any home. It was during the day that the children made an unspoken agreement to dispel the cruelties that lay just outside the door, as they escaped to their own idyllic reality. But the light would quickly dim and subside, leaving the heavy blackness to creep it’s way through out the home. The children were forced into their huddled circle in the small living room. It was during these dark empty hours that they were reminded of just what waited for them. They would all stare hopelessly into the dim candlelight, drawn to the soft glow that weakly fought off the thick darkness that lingered, waiting for the perfect moment to engulf them. 

They had remembered perfectly well how it all started, but it still seemed hazy to them. They would overhear bits and pieces of their parents’, who were two brilliant doctors, frantic quarreling. Terrorization was occurring between the countries. Talk of weapons that would “obliterate more then the nation’s soil” became more and more frequent. The four children really didn’t assume much of it. They just accepted that it was “grown up” talk that didn’t concern them. The only one who wasn’t listless with the harsh conversation was Menoetius, but even then he didn’t dare but bring up a simple theory, often times to daunt the others. Occasionally, he would whisper to the others something about the death of all mankind being on a single country’s shoulders. He would watch and wait for a reaction with a rather large grin, hoping to catch the signs of the apprehension he had wanted to trigger. But normally the children would think of it as nothing other than a minor prank, and they would continue on with their lives. It was only when they heard their parents mentioning the same word over and over again that they slowly began to gain their suspicions. What the word had meant, they couldn’t place it, but they knew it had to have an immense significance by the frenzied demeanor of their parents’ conversations.

  The day came where Achilles was deemed the leader and their parents left them all alone. Menoetius mentioned something about their two patrons being called out to help bring a cure for this word they kept hearing over and over. Unfortunately, days turned to weeks before their parents returned, and they still heard the word being mentioned over and over. The television seemed to drone on about the word, sometimes replacing it with “disease” and “epidemic”. 

The children began to notice the blunt lack of inhabitants throughout their small town. It seemed the already minuscule population was shrinking more and more. It was not long before everyone seemingly vanished. The streets were vacant. Buildings were left empty. Achilles was the one who suggested to board up the windows and lock the doors of the house (after the children agreed that this word mentioned over and over caused of the disappearance of everyone). The four children vowed to never leave the house, for they were petrified of catching what seemed to be a deadly illness. Not long after they had sealed the doors forever, the power had left. The lights stopped working, and nothing would turn on. And they were left alone, hiding away forever. 

What exactly lied outside? Was anyone was still alive? Was their nation was still at war? No one knew. They simply expelled those questions from their minds; they focused on protecting themselves. There all four of them sat, staring into the dwindling light of the candle. Neither of them were sure of how much time had passed since their parents left, but they were positive that they would never return. 

Athena’s eyes fell upon to Charis’s pale face. The small orange light seemed to carve dark shadows underneath the young child’s eyes. It was something that should never be scene on the face of a five year old, yet there was nothing she could do for her sister. She was positive the same black bags dwelled underneath her own gaze. She let out a heavy sigh, temporarily breaking the silence as her stare returned to the short wick of the candle, and watched carefully as the small flame seemed to lick up the last bit of life from the now completely melted wax before dying out.  Shifting uneasily on herself, she waited in silence for Achilles to pull out another candle and light it. The heavy void swallowed up the children, taking along their eyesight and leaving them to squint around in the darkness of the house. A few more dark minutes passed of rustling, but there was no glow of the candle to fend off the intense blackness. 

“What are you doing, Achilles?” Menoetius asked in an aggravated tone. “Hurry up and light the next candle.”

“Well that’s the thing,” the eldest responded nervously. “There's no more candles.” 

Athena felt her heart drum loudly in her chest, as her stomach seemed to sink down beneath the chipping wooden floorboards.  

“There’s no light until mourning,” Achilles added in a stern down. “We’ll just have to be strong until then, okay?” Without having to see, he could feel the nod of every child. Silence resumed. 

Athena sighed yet again, and she closed her eyes, trying to block the world out. It was going to be a very long night. 

The silence persisted throughout the darkness as the time passed. How long it had been? No one was sure. A few seconds? A few minutes? A half hour? No one knew, but eventually the quiet was interrupted by what could have been the worst noise (given the circumstances). A hushed cough echoed within the ears of the four children, and shattered what remaining reassurance they had left. Sure it was dark, but the world surrounding the children melted away. Not long after the offending noise burrowed it’s way into the deepest fears of the children, another cough was heard. This one was slightly louder. 

“N-no…” Athena cried out softly, as she felt the warmth of her body drain instantly. “You don’t think it was…” She swallowed hard. “I-It can’t be…”

“---” Menoetius said softly, without the slightest hint of concern in his voice. 

“But how do you know?” Athena debated quickly. “We don’t even know what --- is!” 

“It’s a sickness, right? And people cough when they’re sick,” he responded flatly. “We’re all going to die.” Menoetius was only stating it as the truth, not really being phased by the concept, but he wasn’t surprised to hear the soft cry of Charis. “Oh shut up,” he snapped at her, and just like that, she stopped her crying and resumed silence. She hated it when Menoetius was livid. 

“Stop, Menoetius!” Achilles commanded ‘We’re not going to die! I’ll protect us! I just need to know who coughed!” His voice was stern and harsh as he tried to run through the possibilities for getting everyone out alive. 

Athena whimpered, “Why do you wanna to know? How are you planning on 'protecting' us?” she asked in a shaky voice. 

The eldest was silent as he dipped into deep thought. But the longer he contemplated the possibilities, the less sense the situation made. How could he find a solution to a dilemma that he simply could not fathom? But he couldn’t tell the others that he had no idea. He was supposed to be the leader of the children. Mom and Dad had told him that he had the bravest heart, and he would be the one to protect the family at one day. Today was that day, but he simply wasn’t prepared. How could he be? 

“It's just a cough! It’s getting cold, anyways. Let’s actually be smart for once and sleep,” Athena had said, trying to fill the void that fell upon them.

A loud laughter was heard from Menoetius. But as typical, it was never genuine. It was more of a  sarcastic cackle. “Look at miss smarty-pants over there. You know everything, huh? I bet you’re the one who coughed, and you just want to save yourself. Rat.” He glared straight forward into the darkness, challenging the seemingly never-ending abyss. “Tell me, what's it gonna be like knowing we're all dead because we just so happened to actually listen to you? ” He paused for a moment then let out another short lifeless chuckle. 

“Shut up! You want everyone dead don’t you? Because you think we’re all dirt compared to you, huh? Why don’t you grow up for once! It wasn’t me! Besides,” Athena retorted back, feeling the heat of fury in her cheeks. “What if it was you?” She was the only one who bothered to think things through rationally, yet Menoetius still dared to have the audacity to tell her that it’s her fault that they’re all going to die… Not that they actually were. They couldn’t die. There’s no way to be sure if it even is ---, after all. 

“Stop fighting! We are going to live! We just need to figure this out. If you two are done fighting like the little kids you are, I can save us from ---!” Achilles shouted, sending shivers down every child’s spine. “Alright. Now can the person who coughed please say who they are?”

“W-We don’t even know if it is ---,” Athena said quietly, trying to blink back her tears that welled in her eyes. Not a single child dared to come clean. By then, no one else had the heart to comment, and silence fell upon them once again. At least for a few minutes.

“It was me. I-I coughed,” a shaky raspy voice muttered. 

Every child froze in horror at the trembling voice. Charis hadn’t spoken to a single soul after their parents had disappeared. Of all the things she could have said, she said the worst. 

“So it was you? I knew you were dumb, but you’re gonna kill us too?”  hissed Menoetius. “This is so stupid.”

“N-no… Mercy no!” Athena lulled in terror, feeling the hot tears stream down her cheeks. 

“Am I gonna die?” the youngest asked quietly, choking on her own sobs. 

“That wouldn’t be a bad idea. If she died maybe the sickness would stop spreading,” Menoetius mused. A small smile lifeless smile spreading on his young face. 

“Are you sure about this? Is that really the answer? To kill her?” Achilles asked, actually considering the theory. Sure it was gruesome. But wasn’t their entire situation gruesome? And if one child died to keep the others living, wouldn’t that be better than all of them dropping? 

“Are you serious?!” Athena yelled. “I knew you were dumb, but this is a new low, Achilles! Charis barely even coughed, and you two are gonna kill her all because of some stupid sickness we don't even know!” 

Menoetius simply sat back, pleased with himself for finding the solution. “It’s the only way. But you don’t care. You want us all dead, don’t you?"

“Oh please!” Athena cried, feeling her blood boiling under her skin. “I knew you were bad, but this is evil!” 

“It’s our best option. Athena stop it!” Achilles commanded. “It’s hard for on us all! But we can’t ignore this! Menoetius listened mom and dad the most! We need to trust him!”

“So you’re gonna kill your little sister over a single cough. How brave of you,“ she spat. “But tell me. What if you coughed? Would you die for us?’

“If it meant protecting our family, yes. Now if you were a good girl, you would do the same.” Achilles snapped back.

“Oh really? You’re so strong!” she yelled hysterically. “Yay! But tell me, Mr. Justice. Just how do you plan killing her? Who’s gonna kill our dearest sister? Not even six years old with a whole life ahead of her!”

“A whole life? You call hiding away in darkness a life?”

“You kill her, Achilles,” Menoetius said softly. “You’re the oldest.” 

“No! Achilles, no!” Athena squealed, hearing some rustling. She could only assume it was her older brother coming to his feet. 

“Shut up,” Menoetius snapped. “Just hurry up.”

“It’s the only option,” Achilles had said softly. 

“The only option? We don’t even know if its ---, and the only option is to kill her? What if it doesn’t work! You don’t know! No one knows! How can we know! How can we kill little Charis on a single whim?” Athena protested. “Why aren't you answering me? Why are you silent, Charis? Don’t let Achilles touch you! Don’t you dare lay a finger on her! This is all your fault, Menoetius!”  

Achilles still had not spoken as he stumbled over to where he assumed Charis was, and reached for her. She clung to him without hesitation. Athena couldn’t summon the will to cry out anymore as her nose tingled and tears began to trickle down her cheeks. She knew how horrid the situation was, but her legs seemed to freeze up. There was no moving. All that was heard was the soft creak of the floorboards as the two pairs of feet scuffled out of the room into the next. The kitchen. Achilles had been pressing his hand to the wall, using it guide him as he lead the youngest by her little hand. The soft noise of a drawer opening echoed through out the house, followed by the eldest son whispering something inaudible. 

“Goodbye, Charis,” Menoetius whispered, still holding his emotionless tone.

‘I’m so sorry, Charis I’m so sorry. Forgive, Charis. Forgive me,” Athena whispered over and over to herself, her voice shaking in trepidation. Her ears were suddenly filled by Charis’s blood curdling scream. The strident shrill seemed to bore itself into the inner depths of her mind as she heard the soft footsteps of Achilles returning alone. He wasted no time sitting back down into their small huddle as the silence returned. The blackness that had enveloped them seemed to carve its way into their hearts. Each child seemed to realize just what hit them. Charis was dead. And for the second time, the world around them shattered into a million pieces. The blackness had won. It had eaten them up and filled their hearts with cruelty and hatred. Yet no one said a word, and Athena’s crying lulled away into to an empty silence. And after what seemed like ages, a small noise echoed throughout the room. Another, quiet  cough. 

Author's Note

The greek names have some significance, if you don't know them you may want to do a quick google search. It's not mandatory but highly advised. This is a short story from a bored Highschool student, that being said be as harsh as you can when reviewing. I need feedback! If there is any grammar issues lease inform me; grammar is my one weakness.

Reviews

[Riv]

Interesting. It's somewhat difficult to describe, but I have a fascination with the idea of enclosed "safe" spaces with immediate danger surrounding them. I also find apocalyptic (or potentially apocalyptic) scenarios intriguing, so I suppose I'm a good candidate for this story.

I enjoyed it. There are errors here and there, yes, but I feel like you'd notice most of them if you went back and read over it a couple of times. Love the atmosphere, and the ending is quite nice. Very dark, and I'd have it no other way. Choosing to leave the disease (or perhaps biological weapon) nameless may be convenient, but I don't particularly mind the decision with regards to a short story. Maybe you meant to portray how little these children actually knew about the disease, or perhaps you just didn't feel like making up a name.

Poor Charis.

[Madame Simple]

Thank you so much for the feedback!

I'm glad you caught on to the nameless disease because it was very much intentional. The main premise of the story is that the children don't know the disease. It's playing on the whole idea that they aren't sure if they're dealing with it or not. You were correct! But is also connected to the main message of the story. You see, there are actually two diseases.
One: the disease that the children mention
Two: (the hidden one) the disease that the children actually are suffering from. Which is their fear.
The main message i was trying to convey, was that if one submits to their trepidation and paranoia, things will fall apart.