1I wrote this story for a project in school and time was limited so it's not as good as it could be. I'm posting it because I need suggestions, so please review!
Companions of the Plague
Luke stepped off the dock onto the wharf, he was glad to be back in his hometown of Philadelphia after being away for two years. He couldn't wait to see his family; his mother, father, and little sister Anna. They weren't expecting him, so he knew they would be surprised. Eagerly he picked up his bags and started for home. He hadn't gone too far when he was overcome by a horrible odor. Now, the city always had a smell from the open sewers, but this stench was not of the sewage. Luke wrinkled up his nose in disgust. Then saw a man coming his way, pushing a cart full of rags.
"Good sir," Luke called to him, "What is that smell?"
The man seemed startled at the sight of him, "Turn back, young master. Get back on your ship and sail away from here. It is the plague!"
"Plague?" Luke muttered. Then he took a moment to look around and realized that the normally bustling streets were deserted.
The cart man passed by him and Luke saw that in the cart was not a pile of rags, but several bodies, their glassy, yellow eyes staring blankly up at him. He stepped back in horror. Suddenly panic gripped him and he frantically ran to his house, sloshing through puddles as he went, praying his family was all right.
Soon he was standing in front of his father's smithy, which they lived above. His heart sank, some of the windows were broken and all was dark. All around him shops and houses were vacant. Slowly he pulled the key out of his pocket and opened the door. The shop looked just as he had remembered it, every tool in its place. He continued to through to the kitchen to find everything askew. Hope rising in him he ran up the stairs to fins the other rooms in a similar condition. It looked as though someone had left in a hurry. At least he had reason to believe that one of his family members was alive.
He wandered over to the window that looked out over the small garden. That is when he saw the mound of fresh earth. His newfound hope vanished and left a cold dread in its place. Reluctantly, he made his way down to the small courtyard and slowly walked over to the mound. He knew it was a grave, but he half-heartedly prayed it was not.
At first he saw no indication of who it was buried there, but when he went around to the other side he discovered his mother's cross necklace laying in the dirt. It did not look as though it had been mistakenly dropped; it had been put there for a reason, it was his mother there under the earth. He sank to his knees in grief, clutching the necklace in his hands.
Numbly, Luke stepped out of the house, not bothering to lock the door behind him. He was determined to find what remained of his family. Looking at his palm he saw that the cross was still imprinted there and felt the tears build up behind his eyes, but he blinked them away. He was nineteen and could not imagine letting anyone see him cry, not that it mattered; the streets were just as desolate as before. Despite that he started out in search of someone who may have information about the whereabouts of his sister and father.
Not knowing where else to go, he headed for the church, hoping the priest might have some news for him. On his way he saw a few people scurrying about, holding handkerchiefs to their faces.
"Excuse me," he tried to stop one of them, but the man just hurried by.
Again he saw a man pushing a cart full of bodies. The smell was horrific, making Luke hold his breath until it had passed. He heard the tolling of the church bells and looked up to see the church before him. Hastily he ran into the sanctuary, spotting the priest near the altar, his head bowed in prayer. He looked up when Luke ran in.
"Luke Winchester is it? I think you should have stayed in Europe." The elderly priest quavered.
"Do you know where I can find my family?"
The priest put his fingers to his temples, thinking. After what seemed like an eternity, he answered.
"I'm sorry, I do not. So many have fled to the countryside, you should check with the Free African Society. They've been helping victims of the plague as well as their families."
Luke was disheartened, but regardless he took the address of the Society's headquarters from him. As he left the church he heard the priest say,
"Good luck and God help you."
Outside rain had begun to fall. Luke put the paper with the address in his pocket and trudged down the next street. He felt strangely out of place in the city he had lived seventeen of the nineteen years of his life. To him it seemed like Philadelphia itself was dead.
He grimaced as he spotted what he thought was another body lying in the filth of the gutter, but as he neared he realized it was a pile of soiled, bloody sheets. He wasn't far from the Free African Society when he heard a shrill scream and some shouting. Without thinking he ran through an alleyway into Stark Street. The noises were coming from a house with broken windows and the door had been kicked in. He heard the scream again, this time followed by the fierce barking of a dog. He plunged into the house; the light was dim inside, but he could make out the forms of two men, a little girl, and a dog.
The men froze when he came in, they were unkempt, dressed in shabby clothes and each one carried a gunnysack.
"Looters," Luke thought. He narrowed his eyes, "What are you doing here?" He demanded.
"They were trying to take our stuff!" The little girl cried. She was about six or seven year's old, with blond hair and brown eyes. She held a broom, which she had been using to defend her home.
"Get out," Luke said to the intruders.
They stared at him, taken aback, and then they grinned.
"Make us," one of them taunted.
Luke pulled his revolver out of his pocket and leveled it at them, "Now, get out!"
They darted out the broken door, one of them dropping his bag in haste. The dog dashed out after them, making sure they wouldn't return.
He looked down at the girl, "Uh, are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she answered, hands on hips.
"Where is your family?"
"Dead,"
"All of them?"
"No, Papa went to visit Grandmother. He hasn't returned, so he must still be with her, in the country."
The dog returned, sniffed Luke's leg, and then placed himself protectively next to the girl.
"My father and sister are missing too." Luke said. He thought it strange how calm she was about everything, at least more composed than he was.
"What's your name?" She asked tentatively.
"Luke. And yours?"
"Lyvie"
"So Lyvie, what do you say we go find our families?"
"Okay, as long as Murphy can come too," she said patting the dog.
"Yes, Murphy can come too."
"Good"
With that said they made their way out of the house together.
Luke felt a weird kind of companionship with Lyvie. They were both orphaned for the time being and she reminded him so much of his own sister Anna.
"Where are we going?" She asked.
"The Free African Society,"
"I see," she paused and then, "what's that?"
"Well," he thought about it for a moment, "it's a place where free Negroes can come together and uh…I guess I don't know."
She giggled and Murphy barked happily as though laughing at him too.
In a few minutes they stood before the society's headquarters. Now, this was a place full of busy people. Most of them were emerging from the building, but several were in the side lot constructing coffins. Lyvie shivered and Luke put a hand on her shoulder.
"Come on," he said, "let's go inside."
Luke and Lyvie sat on a bench in the entryway, watching people hurry by. The woman who had ushered them in came back and told them that a man named Abraham might have some news for us. She led us to a small office in the back of the building. There Abraham sat at his desk writing something, he looked up when we entered.
"Master Winchester, I believe your father and sister left for the country after your mother's death. As far as I know they were planning to stay at the manor of Abigail Smithers."
"That's my grandmother!" Lyvie cried.
Abraham smiled, "Then it appears you two will continue traveling together."
Two days passed and Luke and Lyvie were crammed in the back of a wagon with six other people. Abraham had made the arrangements for them to Lyvie's grandmother's house. Unfortunately, it wasn't the most comfortable way of travel. Murphy sat wedged between them. Luke petted him and thought about how hard it had been to convince the driver and the other passengers to let the dog come along. He looked around at the weary faces of the others. Everyone was sore from the cramped and bumpy ride.
He was jolted away from his thoughts when Lyvie began shouting excitedly.
"There it is!" She exclaimed, shaking his arm, "We're almost there!"
He craned his neck to look and saw that she was right. He could feel his heart pounding with anticipation.
Soon they were clambering out of the wagon; Luke and Lyvie were the last to get off. He lifted Lyvie down, Murphy bounding out after her. She took a few steps, stumbled, and fell. Murphy started barking and Luke jumped down and helped her up.
"What's wrong?" He asked.
She gripped his arm to steady herself, "Nothing, just a little dizzy. Now come on," she said pulling him to the house.
A frazzled stewardess met them at the door. Immediately Lyvie ran off calling for her father and grandmother. Quietly, Luke questioned the stewardess. His spirits soared, his sister and father were alive and well. Lyvie's family however had not faired well. Her grandmother had caught sick and died shortly after she had opened her home to those fleeing the city and her son soon followed her to the grave.
"Would you like me to tell her?" The stewardess asked.
"No, thank you," he said, "I'll tell her myself."
He found Lyvie upstairs in the study, sitting in a huge armchair.
"I can't find them," she said when she saw him.
"Lyvie…" he started.
"They must be out helping people."
"Lyvie, I need to talk to you."
Her cool facade crumbled as she listened to him.
"No!" She screamed, "You're lying!"
She burst into tears as she hit him with her tiny fists.
"No," she whimpered one last time and fell against him.
He stood by the small grave, silent tears coursing down his face. While on the ground Murphy looked up at him and whined. Yellow fever had stealthily taken little Lyvie from them, but now she was once again reunited with her family. He thought about how he had clutched her small hand while she shivered with fever and was glad her suffering was over.
He stood there for a long time. Eventually, he realized that he should be with his own family, who needed him more than ever since his mother's passing. He looked down at the grave again, Lyvie didn't need him anymore.
"Come on boy," he said to Murphy, "she'd want us to stick together."