1 Final Calling

As usual, Lisa is running late for choir practice at the New-New Orleans University of the Arts. Old New Orleans has been under water for more than a century. The tsunami caused by an earthquake under the Gulf of Mexico washed away most of the coast of Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, parts of Florida and Texas.

Lisa, who is nearly always late for everything, knows the history. Many refused to abandon New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina vowing to rebuild. Yet the city had never truly recovered. More than half of the population drowned when the tsunami hit. Most of those that were left refused to leave. Some claimed that they were called by God to stay, that the water would recede.

But the waters didn't recede. The lucky ones died right away from dehydration and starvation. The rest died after the seals on a research laboratory didn't hold releasing a genetically engineered virus.

New-New Orleans was built in tribute to the lost city. Yet even here they still have to worry about occasional flooding and hurricanes. Nearly every building in the city is built on stilts. The financially well off have ramps they've purchased to park their vehicles on top of. And nearly every home has a boat, no matter how basic, strapped or tethered to the back porch.

Lisa is aware of all these things as she rushes in late to choir.

"Lisa, you're late again," the professor shaking her head amused. No sense in being upset over it.

"Yes, ma'am, I'm sorry," Lisa taking her place. She won't lie and say it won't happen again because she knows it will. She's habitually late, starting with being born two weeks over due.

"Girl will be late to her own funeral," the professor says to herself half smiling. Choir practice continues as usual.

Half way through practice there's rumbling. Lisa finds herself stumbling into her fellow choir members, as there are shouts of surprise and fear.

"Be calm," the professor nearly shouts. "It's just a little tremor… See, it's over already." But she can see she's lost them. They're all nervous and scared. "It's okay. You're all dismissed. See y'all Wednesday morning."

Lisa's insides are trembling as she leaves the room. And about fifteen minutes later, she learns classes are canceled for the day.

"Lisa!" her best friend, Ciara, yells to get her attention. Ciara trots up to Lisa, who's sitting by the largest of the sprawling green campus' fountains. "Hey, what are you going to do?"

Lisa shrugs, "I thought I might find Paul and spend a little time with him. Might stop by the library. Other than that, I'm just going to head back to the apartment. Double check my term paper for errors." She pushes her hands through her short blond hair in an attempt to get her bangs out of her eyes, but it fails.

"Someone said that the big hill that big mansion is sitting on split. You want to check it out," Ciara asks her best friend. They've been best friends since kindergarten.

Lisa shrugs as she attempts again to push her hair out of her eyes unsuccessfully, "Sure." Her best friend is a naturally curious person and usually finds interesting things to investigate. Lisa would never have fun if she didn't have Ciara for a best friend.

It's a beautiful spring day as they walk together. After about twenty minutes, they're standing at the front gate of the mansion at the top of the big hill. The mansion's been there nearly a century. Neither girl is aware that the hill is man made so the mansion would sit well above floodwaters.

"Looks okay to me," Lisa tilting her head as she looks at the front of the elegant mansion.

Ciara bumps Lisa's shoulder with her own, "Come on, let's walk around it… I wonder what it's like to live in something that huge."

"I'm sure there's lots of dusting involved," answers Lisa.

The two young women pause at a collapsed section of eight foot high wrought iron fence. And a few yards up the hill there's a wide crack in the earth. Homes around here don't have basements. They're all built ten to twelve feet above the ground. A basement would only flood during hurricane season when they get lots of rain. But Lisa and Ciara can see that the mansion has a basement that was built above the typical flood level. And part of the wall where the hill split open has collapsed in.

"Hey," Ciara shouts at a group of young adults at the mouth of the crack. "What are you doing?"

A young man responds loudly, "There's a light on. We're going to check it out."

"But that's trespassing," Ciara responds.

"But what if someone's hurt in there," asks the young man. "Someone may need help."

Ciara pulls Lisa to the mouth of the gap. "What do you see," she asks the others now inside.

"Lots of cool stuff," someone answers.

"Well, don't touch anything," Ciara rushing in.

"Ciara, wait," Lisa rushing in after her and grabbing her hand, comforting herself as well as Ciara.

Both young women find themselves standing inside holding hands with dirt and bricks at their feet from the collapsed wall. Their eyes are big and their mouths agape with awe. It looks like a museum. Someone is a collector of rare art and musical instruments. A couple of paintings have fallen to the floor and some displays have fallen over. Yet except for the dirt at their feet, it's clear someone keeps this place immaculate.

A young man reads the plaque on a piano out loud, "Harry Connic Jr.'s favorite baby grand."

"This guitar was Eddy VanHalen's," announces another young man.

Lisa notices a saxophone, trumpet and a snare drum that had been encased in some kind of plastic wrap that was torn open when the instruments fell.

"Paul would love that drum," says Lisa. Paul is part of the university's drum line. Lisa plays a couple of instruments herself. But she's best known for her piano skills.

"Your little drummer boy," teases Ciara. "Yeah, I bet he'ld get a big kick out of that. You two just need to get married and get it over with."

"We will," Lisa responds reaching slowly toward the snare drum.

"What do you kids think your doing," shouts a mature man in a suit. He didn't come through the hole in the wall. He came down from up inside the mansion. And has startled all the young people, who panic. Some of them grab things as they run.

"Hey," Lisa shouts at a young man who has grabbed the snare drum. Lisa chases the young man through the gap back outside, over the fallen section of wrought iron fence, for nearly a block.

"Lisa," Ciara shouts, "he's too fast!"

Lisa stops and looks back at Ciara. Ciara is the serious athlete who runs every morning. Yet Ciara is clearly out of breath. "Are you okay," asks Lisa concerned for her best friend.

"I don't know," Ciara holding her stomach. And a moment later, Ciara vomits.

Lisa is torn. She wants to continue her pursuit of the snare drum, but her best friend is obviously ill. "Come on," putting her arm around Ciara, "Let's go back to the apartment."

Ciara vomits several times on their way back to the apartment. Lisa vomits a few times herself. And she notices others vomiting. Yet despite her own sudden queasy stomach, her best friends sudden illness, and the people she sees becoming ill around them as they walk home, Lisa's mind keeps returning to the snare drum. It's as if it's calling her. And by the time she reaches the apartment with Ciara, Lisa is convinced she needs to find the snare drum for Paul.

There are neither basement apartments here nor even any ground level apartments. The tsunami may have happened more than a century ago, but no one has forgotten. Nothing essential is on the first couple of floors of high rises in the area. The thirteenth floor is where you will find essential systems in these high rises that you would normally find in the basements of high rises.

But their extremely modest apartment isn't in a high rise. It sits ten feet above ground on steel and concrete beams planted deep down in the earth below, situated below, and between, and across from another identical apartment. Residents that own their own vehicle, park underneath the apartment building.

Lisa and Ciara don't have a car. They share their apartment with two other young women who are also college students. There's one bedroom at one end of the apartment with four built in trucker style bunks with privacy curtains, built in shelves and desks. The four closets with mirrored doors are actually outside the bedroom. Then there's the living and kitchen area. While at the other end are two three quarters bathrooms. Lisa and Ciara share one bathroom while the other two young women share the other.

The rent is cheap. Four hundred a month, meant to be split easily four ways by college students. But unfortunately, some of the residents are single mothers taking advantage of the cheap rent.

Lisa helps Ciara into her bunk. They both have bottom bunks, and Lisa is grateful she doesn't have to help Ciara into a top bunk or try to climb up into one herself. She puts a small trashcan by Ciara's bed and sits on the edge.

"Can I tell you something," asks Lisa.

"Sure," Ciara patting Lisa's knee.

"I was jealous when you got your calling as Sunday School Secretary," admits Lisa. "I can do more than play the piano."

"Of course you can," Ciara sitting up and hugging Lisa around her shoulders, "You're smart, talented and pretty in an extra cute way."

"But you're so beautiful. You've never gotten anything less than an A minus. You never need a tan. And you always seem to know just what to say."

Ciara giggles, "Never need a tan," shaking her head, "That good old curse of Caan."

Lisa sighs, "You know that's a misinterpretation. Nobody's skin is cursed. It's their hearts and minds that are cursed with blackness. It still shocks me that some people are still ignorant or hateful enough to believe that."

Ciara shrugs, "Still, there's no reason for you to be jealous of me. You've got your drummer boy, Paul. I don't have anybody. Andy's never going to ask me out. You and Paul are going to get married and sealed in the temple and make pretty babies." Ciara leans over and vomits into the wastebasket.

"I'll get you some ice water," Lisa getting up. A minute later, she returns with the ice water and a kitchen towel full of ice for Ciara's head.

Ciara gladly accepts both. She sips the water and sits it aside. Then she lies back with the towel of ice to her forehead, "I really needed this. My head is pounding. Feels like that drum of yours is inside it."

Lisa climbs behind Ciara and hugs her, "Maybe we should take you to the twenty-four hour health center."

Ciara doesn't like shots and can't stand the thought of possibly disrobing for a stranger, "Let's give it till morning. It might just be a twenty-four hour flu. If I'm not better by morning, then I'll go to the health center."

Lisa nods her head in agreement, "OK." Then both young women doze off.

Lisa hears the drum pounding and calling her name in her head. She climbs over Ciara, but doesn't notice the blood tinged vomit in the wastebasket as she steps past it and out into the living area.

"Lisa," Paul calls through the screen door as he knocks on it. "Lisa! It's Paul and Andy."

Lisa opens up the screen door for him. She hugs him, "Paul, this guy stole your drum."

Paul shakes his head confused, "My drum? None of my drums are missing."

"Ciara and I found this really cool old snare drum for you," Lisa tells him earnestly. "But this guy grabbed it and ran off. I need to find it for you."

Paul gets her by the arm before Lisa can rush out the door. "Don't worry about that right now. You're burning up."

Lisa scratches an itchy spot on her back, "I'm fine." But that itchy spot on her back is where her skin has started to rot away.

Ciara leans over and vomits more blood tinged vomit into the wastebasket. But Lisa, Paul and Andy can't see the blood from where they're standing.

"Gee," Andy very concerned, "Ciara sounds really sick."

"Lisa," Ciara calls, "Tell Paul to find that God blessed drum. I can hear it beating in my head… He needs to find it so it'll stop."

"You have to find it," Lisa tells Paul. "I can hear it calling. It won't quiet until you find it."

"Hush," Paul hugging her and stroking her hair, "Andy and I stopped by to check on you. There are a lot of people sick right now. The twenty-four hour health center, the hospital emergency room and the infirmary at the university are all over full with sick people."

"But the drum, Paul," Lisa insist, "You've got to find the drum so it'll stop calling."

"I'll take care of that," Paul tells her. "You look after Ciara and try to get some rest yourself. I'll find the drum."

"You promise," asks Lisa.

"I promise." Paul kisses her forehead. "You just check on Ciara and have a lie down while I go find that drum, OK?"

Lisa nods, "OK."

"I'll even help him look," Andy anxious to talk to Paul back outside.

Paul gives Lisa a quick kiss, "I won't be gone long. Come on, Andy."

Outside Andy asks Paul, "What do you think is going on?"

Paul shrugs, "Something really contagious is going around. Makes people delirious, probably the high fever. Let's go to the pharmacy. We can grab something for fever. Asks the pharmacist what's best for vomiting."

"Do you think Ciara's going to be alright?" asks Andy as they walk along. "I know I'm a big coward. I've been meaning to ask her out for forever," admits Andy.

Paul smiles, "Just ask her. She's going to say yes."

"You don't know that," says Andy.

"Yeah, I do," Paul smiling, "My fiancé is her best friend remember."

They enter the pharmacy. The cashier is obviously ill. They head back to the aisle with all the fever reducers, cold and flu relievers, and find the aisle picked over."

"Maybe we should try another pharmacy," suggest Andy.

Paul shakes his head sadly. "I'm sure they're all like this." He finds a small bottle of acetaminophen and diarrhea relief medicine. "Let's see if we can find some 7 Up or something."

They head down the soda aisle. Andy tells him, "No 7 Up. No Sprite. No Sierra Mist. Hey! I found a six pack of ginger ale."

"That'll work," responds Paul as Andy grabs the ginger ale.

They head toward the pharmacy counter. But don't see anyone on the other side. They just barely hear a toilet flush. A moment later, the pharmacist steps out through a door that says Employees Only.

Paul and Andy both greet the elderly man, who, like the cashier, is obviously ill.

"Seems to be a lot of people ill, sir," Paul says to the pharmacist.

The pharmacist nods sadly, "I called the CDC, but they said they were already aware of the situation. Couldn't get any information which means it's bad."

"How bad," ask Andy.

The pharmacist sighs sadly, "The People Are Dying kind of bad. Now, you boys go ahead and check out. Sally and I are the only ones here and we're going to go home to our families."

"Do you need any help locking up," ask Paul.

Again the pharmacist sighs sadly, "Not going to bother with locking up. Don't think it'll be necessary."

They check out and the pharmacist and the cashier follow them out. The pharmacist pats Paul's shoulder, "Good luck, son. If either of you starts to feel ill, I suggest you call your families and say your good-byes.

Come on, Sally. I'll drop you off."

About a block from the pharmacy, a young man carrying a snare drum awkwardly and pounding it with one hand as he chants something incomprehensible jogs past Paul and Andy.

Paul point to the guy and asks Andy, "You don't think that's…?"

"Can't be," says Andy. "Maybe we're hallucinating."

"We're not," and Paul starts to chase the guy with the drum shouting, "Hey! Wait a minute! I need to talk to you about that drum."

The guy's response is to run faster. So, Paul pours on the speed.

"Paul wait," Andy shouts. His shorter legs can't keep up with Paul's longer legs. "Oh, no," Andy says to himself as he pauses and vomits.

Andy jogs around the corner in time to see Paul stop to vomit. "Paul, please, wait!" And this time Paul waits.

"Paul we're sick."

Paul nods in response to Andy then motions for him to follow. "Be quiet a minute. He went around this house with all the boxes and stuff under it. Looks like somebody got evicted."

They peep around the side and see the guy sitting cross-legged with the drum on his lap. He's patting it lightly as he chants nonsense softly to himself. They watch him for a minute. Then he gets up and shoves the drum in among the clutter of boxes and things under the house. When he thinks it's satisfactorily hidden, he jogs off waving his hands in the air at nothing.

Paul steps up to where the young man was sitting. He pushes in his hand amongst the boxes and pulls out the drum. Paul looks the drum over carefully. And despite its obvious age, it's in pristine condition. Someone took good care of it.

"Cool drum," says Andy.

"Yeah," says Paul headed back in the direction of the modest apartments mostly inhabited by college students. But he's not headed straight to Lisa and Ciara. "Got to get my sticks."

"Your sticks," questions Andy. It's not like Paul to become distracted. But he follows him back to their modest apartment that they share with two other male college students.

As Paul gets his sticks and straps the drum to himself as if he's going to march in a parade with it, Andy speaks briefly to one of their roommates that's lying in his bunk. Andy asks their roommate how he's feeling and the roommate admits he's ill. Andy tells him that he and Paul are sick too, seems everybody's sick. Then Andy recommends to their roommate that he calls his mother and tell her he loves her. The roommate thinks this is a good idea and digs out his cell phone.

Then Andy hurries after Paul, who has exited the apartment playing the drum. Andy is still carrying the ginger ale. As they pass the girls' apartment, Lisa comes trotting out. Despite being obviously ill, she's smiling. And when she catches up to Paul, she clasp her hands together and says happily, "You found it. I'm so glad you found it."

Andy pauses wondering about Ciara and her condition, "Lisa! How's Ciara?"

Lisa answers, "Taking a nap."

Andy decides to follow his friend a bit further. Paul only goes to the next corner where some other musicians have gathered. Andy's not aware that the saxophone, trumpet and Paul's drum all came from the same place. That these instruments were contaminated long before he was even born. But he's very surprised when the musicians on the corner, without any type of discussion, start playing, "When the Saints Go Marching In."

At the end of the old, old song, the saxophonist, trumpet player and Paul collapse. Andy seems to be the only one concerned as he kneels down and asks, "Paul, are you all right?"

"Of course he's all right," Lisa lying down on the sidewalk next to Paul. She snuggles up to Paul and rests her head on his shoulder, "He found the drum."

Andy checks the pulse of the saxophonist, a man with long dreadlocks. The man has answered his finally calling. He's dead. Andy looks at Paul and Paul tells him, "It's OK, Andy."

Andy's not sure what to do. He sees the guy who had the drum earlier slumped over on some steps across the street. Andy doesn't need to go check his pulse to know he's answered his final calling. When he looks back down at Paul and Lisa, he can see they've answered their final calling too.

Andy takes the six-pack of ginger ale and walks back to the girls' apartment pausing only once to vomit. He doesn't bother to knock. The trash can at Ciara bedside was swapped out for a bucket by Lisa earlier. But even when Lisa dumped, flushed and rinsed the trashcan, the blood in the vomit hadn't registered with her. But the blood in the vomit in the bucket registers with Andy.

As he kneels down by Ciara, Andy touches her cheek and she opens her eyes and smiles at him. Andy smiles too, "Hey, beautiful."

"Hey, Andy. Where're Lisa and Paul?"

"Down on the corner," Andy answers. "Paul's jamming with some other musicians."

"Sounds like they're having fun."

Andy doesn't want to talk about Paul and Lisa, "So, how are you feeling?"

"My heads not pounding anymore," answers Ciara with a smile.

"Good," Andy sitting on the edge of the bed. "…Ciara… Will you marry me?"

Ciara's quite surprised, "Don't you think we should date for a while first?"

Andy shrugs, "We've tagged along with Paul and Lisa to the movies and stuff long enough that we already know each other really well. It's like we've already been dating. Marry me?"

Ciara giggles, "All right, yes. I'll marry you."

Andy kisses Ciara. Then he pushes himself back on the bed, pulls Ciara between his legs and leans back against the wall. Ciara leans back against him as his arms come around her.

Andy kisses her again, "Let's call our parents and tell them the good news."

"OK," Ciara truly happy and excited.

They call their parents and share their happy news. They manage to take a few pictures of themselves together as they sit on the bed with their phones and send them to their parents. And when Andy starts singing an old, old love song, Ciara sings with him. They sound good together.

They talk of when to be married and sealed in the temple, of how many children to have together, and of how beautiful their children will be. There are a few more kisses and their first "I love you" as Andy holds Ciara.

Sometime in the middle of the night, as Andy continues to hold Ciara, Ciara answers her final calling. Then a short time later, Andy answers his.

The anchorwoman says, "The CDC apologizes, but no one will be able to recover their deceased loved ones from New-New Orleans, a city that was known for its music and diversity. The virus that swept through the city and killed all its residents in less than twenty-four hours has a one hundred percent mortality rate. The CDC was first notified by Xavier Connic from the Connic Mansion in the city. And unfortunately, the city will have to be fire bombed in order to cleanse the area of the virus.

We will now share some pictures provided by loved ones, of those lost in this tragic event."

The picture used for Lisa and Paul's engagement announcement appears, followed by one of the pictures Ciara and Andy took of themselves together and sent to their parents as they sat together on Ciara's bed with Andy holding her just a few hours before they both answered their finally calling.