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If Arthur had taken the flight to New York like he was supposed to, he would have been dead. Patient zero was on that flight.
Arthur had retrieved his luggage from the carousel, looked over at Eames — standing there with a raised eyebrow and an empty cart — and thought, “Fuck New York. I’d rather fuck Eames.”
When the news reports started to come in about the deadly flu, the government told everyone to stay calm and stay put. They looked at each other and started packing.
“I have a place — in Wyoming.”
“Never pictured you as a survivalist, Arthur.”
“It’s off the grid, fully stocked for a year. I figured I might need it one day.”
The cities were annihilated in five weeks. They watched the earth’s demise via their satellite internet feed, until that died as well.
It wasn’t bad, really. Not until winter.
“We should go somewhere warmer. Somewhere without snow.”
Huddled underneath the covers, Arthur groaned. “It’s not like we have options.”
“There are always options, darling. Spain?”
“Did you not notice the global death thing? Come closer. Your feet are warm.”
“I wonder what happened to Saito?” Eames mused.
“Probably has a hermetically sealed castle somewhere with a team of geneticists working on a cure.”
Eames kissed him enthusiastically. “You’re brilliant, love.” He leapt out of bed and started gathering supplies.
Arthur sat up, alarmed. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I finally figured out what I’m getting you for your birthday.”
“Saito?”
He paused, thoughtfully. “No, but I’m open to the possibility.”
“Seriously, don’t leave.” He scrambled out of bed, cursing as the cold air hit his body. “We can look for somewhere else in the spring, I promise.”
“Don’t worry, I’m coming back.”
“You can’t know that,” Arthur said, voice panicked.
“Then come with me. One last adventure instead of slowly freezing to death while we run out of tinned rations.”
“Where?”
“The military base in Colorado. They’ll have an antivirus by now.”
“We’ll never get in.”
“We don’t have to. They’ll dose everyone at the guard gate. Can’t let potential carriers in.”
“Huh. Yeah.”
“All we need is an excuse to be there, and I’m good with excuses.”
Their infiltration was easier than it had any right to be. Eames injected the contents of the vial into Arthur’s arm and said, “Happy birthday, darling. Here’s to many more.”
They clinked their vials in a toast before Arthur injected Eames, then stuffed the rest of them into their backpacks before the guards woke up from their chloroform naps.
“Time for a new home?”
“Well, the cities will still be a mess,” said Eames, “but we can drive anywhere we want. We don’t have to avoid civilization anymore.”
“You know, Eames? There’s something I never told you.”
“Oh?”
“Before dreamshare, I was in the Air Force. I can fly us to Spain or anywhere else you want to go.”
“Darling.”
“Happy birthday, Eames.”