On a wet, gray day in Chicago, the rain changed from torrent to sprinkle and back again. Mikel and Jesse were sitting inside Sal’s Bar. It was a bustling Saturday afternoon following a Cubs win earlier in the day. A few tourists sat at tables near the windows in the front while the holdover Cubs fans celebrated in the back of the bar. Sal, the owner/bartender, liked to keep larger groups sectioned off from the masses. Fewer fights that way.
The bar was just as you’d imagine a smallish establishment in Chicago would appear. Wooden tables, chairs, and hardwood flooring. The bar was rich mahogany that blended smoothly with the mirrored liquor shelves on the wall behind. An etching of the city map overlaid the mirror with an X marking the bar’s location. Beer signs and the usual bric-a-brac of sports memorabilia, old concert posters, and flyers for the local theater rounded out the theme. Sal’s was a working-class bar for working-class people. Or at least it used to be. Working-class people couldn’t afford to live in the area any longer, being supplanted with, as Sal would say, “Young Urban Professionals.” He missed the old crowd but had grown attached to a few of the newer regulars.
The patrons at Sal’s loved him. He was in his late thirties or early forties, had short, graying hair, was in perfect shape (and knew it), and always overfilled their bourbon. This Saturday was no different. Mikel was finishing his first round as Jesse sipped a glass of wine.
“You’d better pace yourself,” Jesse said.
“Na, I’m fine. I love stumbling home in the dark, cracking my shin on that abomination of a couch before passing out in the bathroom,” Mikel said.
“Great. I’ll be sure to leave a light on,” Jesse said as she waved to Sal and ordered another round for Mikel. She laughed when Sal said, “Looks like you’re sleeping in the bathroom tonight, right Mikel?”
“Ha, yeah. I haven’t gotten lit up for a while, and it’s been a shit week. Besides, I’ve got the lovely Jesse here to make sure I don’t choke on my own vomit,” Mikel said.
“Classy,” Sal said before wandering off to help other patrons. Jesse burst into laughter, followed by Mikel.
“Here’s to 10 fantastic years of life together. God willing, we’ll have at least 10 more before you finally get sick of me and send me packing.”
“I can’t believe you’re still here. I should have sent you off years ago, but you’re just so…”
“Adorable?” Mikel said.
“Persistent. Like one of those wood ticks you get from hiking. You can tell something’s there, but what? And do you really want to go through the process of searching your entire body for one little bloodsucker?”
“Damn! You had that ready to go.”
“I love you, you little bloodsucker.”
“I love you, too, Jesse.”
Meanwhile, the rain continued to fall.
#
Sal had two TVs above the bar. One was permanently tuned to C-Span, while the other rotated between sports programming. The sports station was the first to carry the report. Jesse had been watching a lacrosse match and was the first to draw attention to it.
"Hey Sal, could you turn up sports? Something's happening." Everyone referred to the TVs by their purpose since that's all that ever played on them.
"Uh, yeah, sure thing. Just a sec." Sal fumbled around, searching for the remote. Another patron walked to the TV and manually turned it up.
"...there and...yes, now confirming the third case. Emergency services are on the scene, we will have a crew on site shortly. "
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"Again, if you're just joining us, a state of emergency has been declared for the greater Chicago area with explicit instruction to shelter in place. It appears that there have been multiple reports of violence throughout the northeast, starting at roughly the same time, just after six on the eastern seaboard. Reports are coming in from Boston and NYC of massive unrest. Details still seem hazy, though one thing is consistent with them all. People are suddenly becoming enraged and physically attacking anything near them. It looks like the aggressor then stumbles a few feet and collapses, dead."
Everyone stared at the screen, mouths agape. Sal had located the remote by this time and muted the TV.
"Okay, everyone, keep your cool. There may or may not be something happening right now, but we are in here. We need to keep everything closed up and make sure nothing gets in here to contaminate us."
“Contaminate us with what? They didn’t say anything about chemicals or anything biological. I bet it’s just people losing their shit on a Saturday night,” a Cubs fan said.
“We don’t know that, and I’d rather we play it safe,” Sal said.
“We’re not hanging out here all night. Thanks for the offer.” The Cubs fan and his group made their way out the door and into the rain beyond.
“Anyone else wants to head out? I’m locking up, so now’s the time.”
A few tourists shuffled out, giving Sal sheepish faces as they went.
“There we go, then. The fewer we have in here, the better.” Sal said as he locked the front door.
A quick head count showed five patrons plus Sal. Jesse and Mikel were nearest the door with the remaining patrons dispersed throughout the bar.
C-SPAN started their live coverage a few minutes after the group left the bar. Their coverage was brief, explaining that there was now a national emergency and that curfew was being implemented immediately and until further notice, then cut to local news.
The local affiliate was playing footage of a riot. It was in the parking lot of a big box store, what appeared to be a Target. At least twenty people were violently attacking anything in their path. One young man, maybe fifteen years old, was stomping on the front of a car. He managed to break a piece of bumper free, then used it to bludgeon a terrified little girl (possibly his sister) over the head until she was no longer moving. This chaos was playing out all across the parking lot. Once the young man finished with her, he turned his fury on one of the other deranged people before staggering for a few steps and collapsing, by all appearances, dead.
The news anchor's voice cut in.
"We are in as much disbelief as you concerning the situation unfolding in our city. It has been spreading fast, so please stay indoors. Shelter in place and do not attempt to drive home from wherever you are. Stay safe."
Sal clicked the mute button again, silencing the second TV.
"We have some options here. I know Jesse and Mikel live just down the street, as does Julia. If you're within one block of here, I don't see why you wouldn't just run home, if you want. Any farther and I would recommend staying here."
"I think we'll sit tight for a few minutes. Got no reason to tempt fate." Julia and Mikel both nodded their agreement with Jesse.
The camera was still showing the chaos in the parking lot. Those who had been violent only moments before were now lying perfectly still, clearly dead. A woman was attempting to corral her husband, who had become hysterical at the sight of what could have been his son crushing his daughter's skull. It was a grim sight. Thank god the TV was on mute, Mikel thought.
"Good call," Sal said as he walked over to the front window. "We need to build some sort of a barricade over the windows and block up the doors."
Byron and David helped Sal build a makeshift barricade using a wooden table. They snapped the legs off, and Sal hammered nails through the table into the window frame. The legs were nailed at an angle to the table, then anchored to the floor, giving it extra support against an attempted entry. David and Mikel had been friends for years, having met in Amsterdam before the rest of the group came together. They knew each other well enough for David not to question why Mikel wasn't grabbing a hammer to help out. Mikel would never be confused for a handyman.
The front door was now barred and secured. Sal headed into the back to make sure the rear door was locked, and the group that remained decided it was a good time to take stock of the situation.
"Okay. We are secure. We have food, enough alcohol to last at least..." Jesse took a look around the bar at the hundreds of mostly full liquor bottles, “Two days if we ration."
Everybody laughed. The sound was a bit forced, though welcome.
Byron was on his phone, desperately trying to get through to his wife, who he said was on assignment in Amsterdam reporting on some EU matters. He hadn't been able to get through since before the reports started. All lines were busy. He was on the verge of tears.
Sal stepped out of the back and placed three guns on the counter with a few ammunition boxes. Julie gave him a surprised look.
"What? I like to go to the range on Mondays. I let the stress off by shooting those paper targets of political figures. You should try it sometime. Doesn’t mean I want to start a militia and wear an All Lives Matter t-shirt or anything.”
The three guns turned out to be an AR-15, a handgun, and a 12 Gauge Tactical Shotgun. Plenty of firepower to stop a small army. Or at least they hoped it would be.