Prelude to Sugar Scars, Journal Entry #4

SugarScarsFrontCoverThis is the fourth in a series of journal entries (read the first one) made by the main character in Sugar Scars, written during the weeks just before the events in the novel.


 

I just put duct tape on my front door and windows. Not to actually seal the house from the airborne virus. That’s hopeless. I mainly did it as a sign to let the religious people know that I wasn’t coming out. I noticed that they didn’t bother people in the sealed houses.

Deaths were reported in Alabama yesterday, so it should be here in Tallahassee soon. The vast majority of people are sealed away, but there’s always a defiant few that stay out and stand as markers of the virus’s progress.
What am I doing with my last few days alive?

I thought about eating a massive sugar filled meal, inducing a diabetic coma. But I looked it up on the internet and it sounds miserable. Plus, I’m not the suicidal type. I want to live.

But no matter how strong my desire to survive is, it’s not the thing that could keep me alive. It’s all a matter of genetics. 0.0104% of the people have the gene for resistance. Hoping for those odds is like rolling five dice betting that they will all turn up six.

Okay, I can’t let that approximation alone. The odds of rolling five sixes is 1 in 7,776.

The virus odds are 1 in 9,600. So it’s an even worse bet.

I think I’m just going to spend the days like I always have. Alone. Watching videos on YouTube or Netflix. I’ve enjoyed the mathematical aspect of tracking the virus, so I’ll keep doing that. I’ve been able to predict its path fairly accurately. The rate of progress follows a few key variables like wind speed and population density. Every once in a while there’s leap, like when an infected person manages to get in a car and drive a ways before dying, but even that’s fairly predictable.

If God is real and I meet whatever the qualifications are for heaven, then maybe I’ll get to see my parents again. They died thirteen years ago, when I was six. I can still remember them clearly.

I’ll pretend like I’m about to go home to see them after a long journey.

Journal Entry #5

Updated: September 3, 2015 — 8:04 pm

Books by Travis Norwood

Sugar Scars

Living after the apocalypse really isn’t that hard for most of the survivors. The virus killed all but 1 in 10,000. The few remaining people are left in a world of virtually unlimited resources. Grocery stores overflowing with food and drink. Thousands of empty houses to pick from.

But one survivor, a nineteen-year-old girl, requires more than simple food, water and shelter. As a type 1 diabetic her body desperately needs insulin to stay alive. With civilization gone, no one manufactures it anymore. She hoards all the insulin she can find, but every day marches toward the end of her stash of vials. She has a choice. Accept her fate and death, or tackle the almost insurmountable task of extracting and refining the insulin herself.

Brilliant scientists struggled to make the first insulin. What hope does a high school dropout have?

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Suspended Between

Julya’s scream shatters through the metal of the starship when a simple number destroys everything she dared hope for in her life—love, a future, happiness. One simple number...

101

4,096 colonists lay in deep suspension. Some of Earth’s best, they are chosen to colonize a new world and are on a 200-year journey through space. Julya was one of them, dreaming of the life she’ll live when she awakes on the new colony.

But Julya isn’t asleep anymore.

When an accident causes two suspension pods to fail—those of Julya and an engineer named Dax—both are forced to face the unthinkable…

What happens when you are in deep space, on a spaceship never designed for the living, with only one other person? Can you survive? Can you find love? Can you face the unexpected?

What happens when you awake early? Not just early, but 101 years early?

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