The Thing came like a hallucinogenic nightmare, the kind that pulsates through fogs of fever and uncontrollable chills.
Our great leader said we had it totally under control.
We shut it down, and everything was perfect. Just stay calm. So, we did. Ignorance was bliss, and just plain ignorant.
People talked about the Thing, slowly creeping through villages and towns in a far away land.
If only those people were sanitary and civilized, some said. We knew better, lived better, acted better, and definitely called that hoax a hoax.
Someone from over there flew to the great Northwest. There were only 15. Don’t count the ones on the cruise ship. He liked the numbers, our fearless one. So did we, like sycophants who clung to illusions of a divine commander in chief. The number would go down to close to zero.
Some go to work and get better, were his words.
Damn straight, love that guy.
There were only 129 sick and 11 deaths, which is not like the flu which is soooo much worse.
Anybody can get a test, those beautiful tests, perfect like the transcription on that other hoax.
He knew so much about the Thing, a “natural ability” to quote him, and we agreed with him that he should have been a doctor, rather than a president.
Fine tuned response, smoothly coordinated, in sync with the experts.
That’s how he graded himself. New York was under siege, but that’s their problem.
Every state, county, and neighborhood can make their own rules.
The Thing paid no attention. It liked people, particularly their lungs, where it could grow unknown for days. The enemy caught us with our guard down and rather than go to war - human separation and isolation - we shrugged our shoulders like our supreme commandant.
Thousands suffering and dead, in every corner of our country. “This blindsided the world,” he professed. Except we’ve been talking about it for months, and your staff were up at night fearing the Thing, for years.
The call to my wife came at 10pm. Her best friend, sobbing and barely intelligible, said her brother was on a ventilator in New Orleans. Double pneumonia. Gasping for oxygen, infected by the invisible nemesis. Pray for us, she said. My daughters have fever and can’t get a test. The Big Easy is in a big hurt.
The Thing is knocking on doors in our circle of life. The smart ones advise to wear masks, but the executive in charge says he’s not into masks.
Tough generals don’t need armor, particularly when they are not on the front lines.
Plus, he has his whiz son-in-law in charge to combat the Thing, and that federal stockpile of ventilators will be ready for the federal government. The people can call their governors.
Night is falling, and the Thing is relentless and indefatigable. Resistance is light and victims are many, while despair and grief are almost too difficult to bear.
Yet, we will persevere. We must. The Thing will die if you stay home, regularly wash your hands, socially distance from others, wear a mask, and don’t touch your face.
Above all, to win this war, ignore the guy from The Apprentice and follow the scientists.
Then, the nightmare will be over, and we the people will WAKE UP!, I hope.
Clark Hicks is a Hattiesburg attorney.
