The end times began like any other day. The story on the news was brief and certainly not the lead story that day. A remote tribe in the Amazon rain forest was being decimated by a virus that health officials in Brazil were scrambling to contain. Over the course of the following days, the story gradually became the lead story. Each day, exponentially worse.
The efforts of health officials in Brazil weren't enough. The virus soon spread across the world. Millions perished daily. Within a week it reached the United States. The CDC was powerless against it. There was no time to create a vaccine or for any Government agency to react in any meaningful way. There wasn't even enough time to bury the dead. There was some looting and crime as people realized this was the end. However, it wasn't wide spread. We barely had time to say good bye to one another.
By the time the virus reached our home in Cheyenne Wyoming, the world had come to a complete stop. TV, radio, internet, air travel, phone service, everything related to our modern society ceased. My wife and I became sick at the same time. As the hours passed, my wife became increasingly ill. However, my symptoms remained unchanged. I had some sniffling and that was it.
The following day I told my wife I loved her and said good bye. She was gone. I figured I was going to be following her soon. I buried her in our back yard, then went back into the house and waited for my turn.
Within a couple of days my symptoms passed. I was fully prepared to die alongside my wife and now there I was, healthy as a horse as if nothing had happened. Everyone was gone. My parents, my brother and his family, friends, neighbors, colleagues. To make matters worse, the power failed at this time.
For the next few days I stayed at my home. I thought maybe the police, army or some government entity would come by and tell me where to go or what to do. Nothing. Silence. Not only were there no signs of any kind of government response, there were no signs of any human efforts or activity at all.
I cautiously ventured out to find food and water. I drove to the nearest grocery store and stocked up on canned goods and bottled water. The quiet streets and dead bodies had a terribly unnerving effect on me. I returned home and unloaded my supplies. That's when it finally hit me. This is it. This is the world now.
I jumped back in my car desperate to find anyone. I drove into downtown Cheyenne. I went up and down every street. Not a soul. Not one person. I picked up several bottles of wine and got blind drunk. The next day I woke up in the backseat of my car with a raging hangover. As I lay there surrounded by a deafening silence, I realized I had to do something. Then it struck me. Karen's parents lived, or rather had lived, on an acreage near the Bighorn Mountains. That seemed like the best place to try and ride this out.
I had a purpose. I gathered supplies. A rifle, a .38 revolver, ammo, food, and water. I loaded up my car, siphoned gas from the neighbors car, and headed out. The trip was uneventful, but I felt like I was in a dream. Wyoming is sparse, but no human contact at all was still something I was struggling to come to grips with. I had to be careful on the interstate as there were abandoned cars and trucks intermittently littered along the way.
I got off of I-90 at the Story exit and made my way into the foothills. I reached the gravel road leading up to the acreage. Pine tree's lined the road up to the house. Beyond I could see the Bighorn Mountains blue and cold. If the circumstances were different, I would say it was a beautiful day.
A gunshot rang out. I immediately stopped the car. I ducked, opened the car door, and crouched behind the car.
"You need to leave right now! This my home and you're not welcome!" a voice yelled from an open window.
I was both relieved and puzzled. I hadn't expected this. It was Karen's mother Joan. My mother in law.
"Joan, don't shoot," I yelled. "It's Joe."
"Joe?" she paused. "Stand up with your hands raised so I can see you."
I stood up and walked in front of the car. The door opened and she ran out to greet me. She hugged me and was genuinely happy to see me. I was glad to see her too. I couldn't believe she was alive. It quickly turned to tears of joy and of grief as the magnitude of our situation was realized with our meeting.
We went inside and talked about what had happened since the outbreak. Joan's story was similar to mine. Her husband, my father in law, Bill died quickly after getting sick while Joan only had mild symptoms that passed in a day or two. I broke the news that Karen had passed and that I'd laid her to rest my self. She had already accepted her daughters passing and was still in disbelief that I was with her now. She'd assumed I was gone too.
I asked if she'd seen anyone else, but she hadn't. I thought that if we'd survived that there had to be others, but we were in a remote part of Wyoming. We may very well be the only ones in this area. I brought in my supplies and settled into one of the rooms.
Days became weeks, weeks into months. I spent my days traveling to the nearest towns gathering medicine, food and various supplies. Water wasn't an issue since the acreage had a well. We were good on firewood too. Bill had a shed, more of a small barn really, with enough firewood to last us until Spring. Joan spent her days taking care of daily chores on the acreage. This kept us busy until the first snow announced that Winter had arrived.
We hunkered down for what was going to be a long Winter. No plows or services so we weren't going anywhere. Fortunately, both Joan and Bill kept a well stocked library. I was going to have plenty of time to read. The home was large and had two fireplaces. One in the main living room and one in the master bedroom.
There was also a wood burning cook stove in the kitchen. It was an antique and was there mostly for show. However, Bill had set it up so that it could actually be used. Bill had been an all around good handyman (understatement). Woodworking, plumbing, you name it. I'm not sure if he was prescient too, but the fact that their wood cook stove was functional was a Godsend. Bill had been a good man and I sang his praises for that alone.
Weeks went by and we were snowed in completely. Joan and I spent many days talking during our meals, but there was so much down time. I had far too much time to just sit around and think. I wasn't quite at the level of Jack Torrance from The Shining thankfully, but I certainly had cabin fever. I would occasionally go outside to collect firewood, gather water from the well, and to get fresh air. That helped, but my mind began to wander.
After dinner one evening, Joan got up to take dishes to the sink. I watched her as she walked to the kitchen sink. My eyes moved down to her ass; and held there. She was wearing tight jeans and a pullover sweater. I never noticed how nice her ass was before. I felt a little guilty for looking at her and thinking of her that way. I mean, this was my mother in law.
Joan had always kept herself in great shape. She was in her sixties, petite, maybe 5' 2", auburn hair flecked with gray that she kept pulled back, and very small, almost flat, breasts. I was in my late thirties. To be honest, I'd never really thought about an older woman at that time, let alone my mother in law like this before. My wife had been beautiful and we'd had a healthy sex life. However, I'd already gone months without sex and my thoughts began to drift around Joan.
After each meal, I would intentionally let her get up first to go to the sink with her dishes so I could watch her. I still felt guilty doing that, but the more guilt I felt the more it turned me on. At night, my masturbation sessions became all about Joan. And they were intense. I wanted her, but I had no idea how that was going to happen. Between the cabin fever and lust, I definitely wasn't thinking straight.
One afternoon, Joan asked if I could help her get some blankets and clothes down from the attic. She pulled down the attic stairs, which are more like a ladder, and climbed up. As she slowly came down carrying her bundle, I put my hands lightly on the outside of her thighs to make sure she didn't slip. I just couldn't help myself. When she took the next step, I moved my hands over so that her ass slid across my hands. She quickly stepped down off of the steps.
"Oh, I'm sorry Joan," I said as she climbed off of the last steps.
"It's ok, I'm kind of clumsy on this thing." She smiled, but it was an embarrassed sort of smile.
I wasn't sorry at all. Touching her like that made me crazy. Once the steps were put up, I quickly made an excuse to go to my room. That night, I had to masturbate several times before finally going to sleep. However, it was a restless sleep tossing and turning most of the night.
The next morning I woke up, dressed, and walked into the main living room area. Joan was standing in front of the large picture window. She was looking out towards the snow covered pine trees and the mountains rising up behind them. I walked up beside her.
"The view never gets old from here," I said.
"It is beautiful. It's one of the reasons we retired here."
