Disclaimer
: This is a long story. I know that may not appeal to some, so I thought I would give fair warning to those who are looking for something different. While it does include sexual content, a large portion does not. This is more a story of two people overcoming extraordinary odds who find comfort in being with each other. If that's your thing, then I hope you enjoy it.
The infectious disease known around the world as the coronavirus was affectionately referred to as COVID-19 since its global debut occurred toward the end of 2019. It had merely been the latest in a long line of similar animal and human coronaviruses dating back to the 1950s.
First diagnosed in China, COVID-19 quickly spread to all corners of the world. In some places it had a crippling effect on society, shutting down businesses and bringing economies to a virtual standstill.
Within a few years, however, things generally returned to normal, although the post-COVID world was decidedly different from its predecessor. People increasingly worked from home, restaurants catered more to a "grab and go" or delivery format, and students began learning remotely for their education.
The world began to breathe a sigh of relief as the numbers of infected cases dwindled down to practically zero. Despite a few potent variants of the coronavirus that emerged during that time, for the most part life moved on as it always does.
In the autumn of 2025, another strain of coronavirus emerged. Having mutated itself once again, this time it was an absolute lethal killer. Whereas the original coronavirus ended up only affecting about 1% of the total population, this new version had the complete opposite effect. Within a space of several weeks in October, just as the nights grew appreciably longer and cooler, well over 99% of the population on earth was wiped out.
In the United States, in particular, where a large chunk of the population hadn't taken the original virus seriously at all - refusing to even engage in simple, basic precautions like wearing masks - the latest variant came like a thunderbolt from God. This particular strain spread so quickly and produced such deadly results that before anyone could really do anything it was too late. They were dead.
The few who survived - the very few - were left completely traumatized. Many who had escaped death ultimately chose to kill themselves rather than live alone. Others that had miraculously survived died from accidents that might have otherwise been prevented had there been people around to assist.
Those who remained spent their days in shock, unable to comprehend what had happened and completely unsure of what to do or where to do. It was a nightmare without an ending. There would be no waking up from this hellish scene.
For Jim Stanford, a 52 year old man who had been living the best years of his life, there were so many questions without any answers. Up until a few days ago he had been a happily married man with three young children. The first to go was his ten year old daughter, followed by his wife and five year old son the next day and then his eldest son, just twelve years old, expired the next morning.
Over the course of three days Jim watched helplessly as each member of his family experienced a high fever, then unconsciousness, and finally death. He could do nothing and seemed astonishingly close to losing his mind.
Now, they were all buried in the backyard. He had dug one enormous hole, dressed them each in a nice outfit, wrapped them in bed sheets, and laid them in the ground together. He didn't know what else to do.
He sat on the front porch of his house early one morning a few days later just looking out toward the street and the woods behind. He drank a cup of coffee while he sat. So far, the electricity hadn't gone out but he suspected it wouldn't be long before that happened. If everyone was dying, there would be nobody to run the grid.
Every time he tried to make sense of things his brain stopped working. His thoughts were jumbled and any coherent thinking was muddled, unable to find an end or solution. He wanted to die himself. This wasn't life - not life worth living anyway.
Living in Nashua, New Hampshire just north of the state line with Massachusetts and right off exit one, he and his wife had purchased a beautiful two-story home nearly twenty years ago with room to grow a family. Now it was nothing more than a haunted house. Haunted with memories of his former life and family.
For a couple days he assumed someone would walk by. When that didn't happen, Jim got in his car and drove around. There was nothing and nobody. Things were as desolate as imaginable - scenes from an apocalypse. It was the only way he could wrap his brain around the situation. Abandoned cars, closed stores and a heavy, eerie silence that permeated the landscape and made his ears ring.
He wandered around through various stores and establishments that lined Daniel Webster Highway and Spit Brook Road, determined to find at least one other person. There had to be someone. He couldn't be the only one.
But he found nothing but his reflection in every store window. His shadow was his only companion. It was just him. He had never felt more alone in his life and, for all he knew, he was.
He had almost considered going into work, just to have something to do. But, for what purpose? For nearly a quarter century he had been employed with an electronics company in Nashua and had worked his way up to branch manager, earning him a six-figure salary.
So what? What difference did that make now? Money meant nothing anymore. It was useless. He could take whatever he wanted for free, all he had to do was load his car and drive away. None of it made any sense.
When October turned to November and cloudy skies and cold rain took complete hostage of the weather, Jim decided he had to leave. He didn't want to stay in his house anyway, but had lingered in the absence of anything else to do. Where the hell was he supposed to go? He had the freedom to choose any destination but couldn't come to any decision.
With only vague comprehension of what he was doing, Jim knelt on the upturned soil that was his family's grave and cried uncontrollably for what seemed like the millionth time. He spoke out softly to them and explained that he had to go - that he couldn't stay in their house any longer - that he loved them and missed them terribly. He hugged the ground, visualizing his whole family in his arms. After a while he stood, wiped his face with a white handkerchief and turned around.
Jim drove to Dick's sporting goods and loaded his car with as much camping gear and equipment as it could hold - tents, Coleman lamps and gas stove, propane cylinders, cooking utensils and the like. When that was finished, he drove to the gas station up the street and siphoned gas from the pump into his tank with a long black rubber hose he had also acquired. He found it was a remarkably easy thing to do.
Heading east on route 111, he drove toward the coast. While he didn't really have any definitive clue what he was doing, Jim at least knew the brutal New England winter to come would be less harsh along the coastline. And it would give him some additional time to sort things out. Maybe there would be other people as well.
Coming upon interstate 95, he proceeded north and soon crossed into Maine. When he saw the exit for York Beach, Jim got off and made his way slowly on route 1 until he arrived. The street separated the town from the beach, with rows of houses off to his left and the vast Atlantic in the opposite direction.
It was a beautiful day, especially for November and he decided to drive right on down to the beach itself. Why not? Who the fuck was going to stop him? He hadn't seen one living soul since he had left Nashua. Getting out of the car, Jim was hit with a cold wind and shivers ran up and down his body.
Walking toward the surf, the ocean breeze sprinkled his face with spray. He closed his eyes and offered a silent prayer to whatever God there might be. He thought of his children and smiled. Christ, how he missed them. And how they loved coming to this beach. They had just been here this past summer and had a marvelous time. Who could have ever imagined what would happen next?
He spotted a beautiful Cape Cod house situated right off the main road. It was gray with a front patio that ran the entire span of the house with a smaller one on the second floor off the main bedroom. The house was empty, no corpses to deal with. But, considering that most of these houses belonged to summer residents who came up from Boston or New York, he wasn't that surprised to find it abandoned. Whoever used this house would have been gone when the deadly disease made its resurgence.
He unloaded his car and immediately set about making this his new home. As much as he could anyway, thankful to have something to do.
The electricity was still running - for now - and after making a trip to the Oceanside Store just up the street Jim prepared the first substantial meal he had eaten in over a month. He also stocked up on various meats and placed them in the refrigerator and freezer. He didn't know how long the electricity would last, but until then he planned on eating well. Sleep came easy that night.
About a week later, as he sat in the living room reading one of the books he found on a bedside nightstand in the downstairs bedroom, the lights flickered several times before going out. "Well, that's it then," he said to an empty room.
The next day Jim drove to the nearest Home Depot in Portsmouth, New Hampshire to pick up a generator. He had it in his mind that he could somehow rig the electric back to life, just to keep his house in working order. He wasn't exactly sure how to do that or if it would work, but it gave him something different to think about. Something different to do. And it gave him some small measure of hope in a sea of despair.
Once he found what he was looking for and moved it to a loading cart, he proceeded to walk back to the exit. As he approached the big glass doors at the front, which he had already pushed open, a soft voice called out. "Hello?"
