Joliet, Illinois

"And with the new virus, now dubbed the 'Superflu' by some, spreading, it may be a while before-"

Collie Parker turned the TV off and sighed. That goddam 'superflu' had already taken half of his basketball team and it looked like they weren't going to be healthy in time for the summer basketball camp schedule to start. Collie himself was totally fine – not so much as a sniffle, but even the guy he was closest to on the team, a tall, dark, muscular fellow that never got sick, had sounded congested on the phone. That goddam superflu. News reporters talked about it all the time, the government said it didn't exist, none of it mattered to Collie. He wasn't sick. Sure, both of his little brothers had what could be it, and his father had started coughing a lot lately, but he hadn't been touched by it.

He was probably just too healthy for it. Collie Parker was seventeen years old, six feet even, a hundred and eighty pounds, almost all muscle. He didn't burn easily, instead tanned dark in the summer while his already light hair bleached. He didn't wear glasses. He didn't have knee problems or back problems. Really, his only illness was Chronic Swearing Disease. And there was nothing fuckin' wrong with swearing once in a while.

Maybe he'd stop by some of his teammates' houses. His entire family was asleep, it seemed; they wouldn't be bothering him for a while. He grabbed his shoes, an apple from the counter, and headed out.

It was… weirdly quiet, actually. Collie Parker didn't live in the quietest neighborhood, either, and it seemed that everyone was inside hacking away. That was his guess, anyway. That's what his family and teammates were doing; why the hell wouldn't the rest of the town be doing that, too?

He walked. He could use the exercise, anyway, between the end of track season and the start of basketball camp he literally had nothing going on and he was losing some of his endurance. This coming school year was his senior year and he wasgoing to take the basketball team to state (and win state) if it killed him.

That's why he had to check up on his teammates. Some people had died of this so-called 'superflu' and, though Collie was sure it was just old women and babies who had died, he needed to make sure none of his guys were in mortal danger. His Varsity team, from the starters to the kids that sat on the bench and never really got to play, was carefully sculpted and if one of them couldn't be there – especially one of the starters! – it would all be crashing down.

He couldn't let that happen.

He visited Nathan Walsh first. Nathan was one of the post players and the tallest guy on the team. He knocked, bouncing from foot to foot uncomfortably. Nathan's family was better off than the families in his neighborhood and this neighborhood made him uncomfortable. He knocked again, then rang the doorbell. Where the fuck was that goddam bastard?

Well, whatever. He'd just let himself in.

The door was unlocked. Someone must be home, then. Who the hell would be stupid enough to just leave their door open when they weren't there?

The smell was horrible; Christ, it was like someone had died in there. Now that Collie thought about it, that smell had been sort of there the entire time he'd been wandering around out there. Maybe this Superflu thing was something he should be worried about.

Nathan's room was on the second floor, first door on the left. Collie stepped carefully over some toys on the stairs – that's right, Nathan had little twin sisters – and opened the door.

Nathan was lying in bed. Collie wasn't totally sure if he was alive or not. The smell wasn't quite as bad in here; instead it was more chemical-laden, like someone had sprayed air freshener everywhere. Collie shut the door and walked across the room, nearly tripping over a pile of dirty laundry.

"Nate?" Collie asked, touching his arm cautiously. Now that he was closer he could see Nathan's chest move up and down but only a little. He really was sick.

Collie decided that he had to get out of there. Sick people, especially extremely sick people, freaked him out and he didn't want to stick around until the guy died. He left, nearly throwing up at the smell out in the hallway. At this point he was totally sure that Nathan's entire family was dead and rotting in their beds, and that was why it smelled so bad. Nathan would be dead in a few days.

Collie needed to get the hell out of Joliet.

But… first he would check up on a few other people. His point guard, a smaller, faster boy with dark brown hair and probably the palest, most susceptible to burning skin ever named Brett Glass was one, and also the guy he was closest to on the team, Mike Hart. Then maybe he'd check up on his latest flame, Rosemary Hoffman. She was a sweet girl, with long, curly blonde hair and brown eyes. He suspected she bleached her hair, but, then again, he had blond hair and brown eyes, and he'd never seen her with anything but blond hair.

Brett and Rosemary's houses were the same, except Rosemary was actually dead on the couch in her house. Collie only managed to not throw up until he got outside and emptied his stomach in the bushes lining her house. Alright. Mike would be okay. He had to be okay. Last night he'd been okay – the congestion he'd heard on the phone was just his imagination. Everyone else was sick so he'd imagined Mike was sick, too.

Mike's house was on the outskirts of Joliet. Collie ran there, only pausing once to duck into a gas station. It was empty, so he just stole a bottle of water and chugged it, throwing it to the side when he was done. Everyone was fuckin' dead anyway.

He had an idea that nearer to the center of Joliet there would be riots breaking out. The Anarchists coming out of their complaining about rules and actually doing stuff that they wanted to do.

Collie would probably join them once he checked up on Mike. Collie was an Anarchist – he even had a bandanna with the Anarchy symbol on it. But he'd grab it from his house once he was done with Mike.

Mike's house smelled a lot better than the others – well, of course it did, Mike lived with just his dad and his dad was gone half the time.

"Mike!" Collie yelled. "Mike, you in there?"

"Collie? Is that you?" Mike asked. He poked his head out of a window and waved. Collie's heart sunk. Goddam it, he did sound sick. "Might wanna stay outside. I don't want to… get you sick or anythin' like that."

"Fuck that," Collie said, opening the door and heading in. Mike rolled his eyes and turned to face him. "It's so goddam empty out there."

"Everyone that's not sick is near the middle of town," Mike said, shrugging. "I was there for a little bit. Thought it was something you'd like."

"Yeah, I'm heading over there. Just wanted to check up on you. Rosemary's dead. Brett and Nathan are almost there, I think," Collie said, shrugging. "Dunno where my mom is, both little brothers are in the same boat as Brett and Nathan, and Dad… well he's hacking out his lungs, I think. I'm glad he's doin' that instead of harping on Mom for not being sick yet."

"Yet? You're talking about it like it's the end of the world," Mike said, grinning a little.

"What if it is?" Collie said.

…

After finishing up his conversation with Mike, Collie headed home to get his bandanna and a decent pair of shoes. The ones he was wearing now were nearly falling apart.

Now that he thought about it, he should probably get a shirt on, too. Maybe some jeans instead of his basketball shorts. A jacket, maybe; who knew if he was coming back?

Collie ended up having to go upstairs to find clothes. Mom hadn't been around lately, working too much, he supposed, he'd always been asleep or at least in his room by the time she got home lately and she was always gone before he got up. Maybe she'd run off on them. It wouldn't surprise him. Dad was a complete fucking monster when he got drunk, and lately that had been happening more and more.

Five minutes later, dressed in his only clean pair of jeans, a dark t-shirt, leather jacket, and his Anarchist bandanna, Parker headed downstairs.

He was met in the hallway by his father. He smelled like he'd been drinking and he looked like he was about ten minutes away from being like Brett and Nathan.

"Bye," Collie said, turning away and starting to head down the stairs. A hand clamped on his shoulder, and Collie turned his head. "What?"

"Where are you-" he paused to cough in Collie's face. Collie pulled the bandanna up to cover the lower half of his face. "Going?"

"Out," Collie said, and the hand left his arm. Marveling at his luck, he headed down the stairs.

Something hard hit him in the back of the head and he lurched forward, grabbing onto the railing for support. He turned back. Shit. The fucker had thrown a fucking unopened beer can at him. "What the hell was that for?" Collie asked. His father looked at him, looked at him like he didn't fucking care what Collie was doing.

"Don't come back," was all he said, and turned around and went back to his room. Collie gave his back the finger. This hadn't been the first time his father had kicked him out of the house, but it was the first time Collie was about to listen to him.

He was getting the hell out of Joliet and the hell out of Illinois.

Right after he rioted for a little bit.

…

It was totally fucking insane in downtown Joliet. Everyone who was even remotely healthy was breaking into places and stealing and fighting and having sex in the streets. Collie Parker kept his bandanna covering his face and wondered if he shouldn't have worn his cowboy boots. Well, who the fuck cared? He could go steal some new ones anyway.

He headed for the mall, shoving and pushing his way through the crowd, catching a fist on the side of the face and throwing the offender down to the ground where he was pounced on by the smaller rioters. "Hey, Parker!"

Ah, some of his other friends. The 'not-school' ones. The 'drug dealer, possibly' and his buddy the 'drug addict, possibly.'

"Yeah?" Parker asked, raising his voice as to be heard above the racket.

"Watcha doin' here?" Drug Dealer asked.

"Gettin' myself some new boots!" Parker said. "My old ones are fuckin' falling apart and I ain't going home anyway."

"Hurry up," Drug Dealer advised him. "Won't be long until someone decides to torch the place."

"I'll keep it in mind," Parker said, grinning and heading for the shoe store. Once there, he walked leisurely through the store – there wasn't really anyone in here; most of them seemed to just be in the mall for the fight. Parker would probably fight for a bit after he got his boots. It was a fun thing to do.

Once he found his boots he took of his shoes, chucked them at the cash register and sent it beeping like crazy, and pulled them on. A little uncomfortable – fuck, he'd forgotten to take out the stupid paper they put in them. Parker was glad nobody was around to watch him be a stupid bastard as he took off the boots and chucked the paper at the still-beeping cash register.

Now he was ready to have fun.

He shoved his way out of the shoe store. He could see small fires starting everywhere – there was a pyro in here, it seemed. Great. Parker grinned under his bandanna and shoved the nearest guy into one of said small fires. He shrieked and launched himself at Parker, who went down under this fire-guy and a bunch of other people. He caught an elbow in the face and tasted blood.

He pushed his way free, spitting blood on the ground and walking away from the fight. That had been exhilarating, of course, but he was getting bored and his bandanna had gotten ripped a bit. He was going to head out now.

He walked out of the mall, letting it burn behind him.

at this point, stu is in the vermont plague center place. i wanted to start it sort of when the plague is about half over. there are still sick people. there are still plenty of people there to mess up a mall.