by R. D. Hale
'Wow, that's a good amount on insulin. It won't last forever though. At some point, I must find the courage to go out there and get some myself. I can't spend my life depending on other people.' Cali rises from her seat and places the used insulin pen in the bin. And I am surprised, but relieved to hear those words because hiding would slowly, but surely kill her.
We all need to be survivors now, and pull our own weight, regardless of our frailties. We can be supportive, but we cannot give endless handouts, even if we want to. Pity, like food and medicine, has gone into short supply, and people must take their own risks.
'Well, it was our pleasure to help, and like I said, you can get food from the other apartments,' I say, offering a gentle nudge. 'I haven't seen any crazies in here, but I'd go tonight if I was you. I think we'll get some more before returning to our friends on the roof. You can com–'
'You live on the roof?' Cali sounds alarmed as she returns to her seat, and I resist rolling my eyes.
'Well, we've been staying there for one night. We were running from the crazies, climbed the shard to escape. The boys are up there, waiting for us,' I say.
'I can't believe the boys let you do this by yourselves,' Cali says, like we need a pair of clumsy idiots for protection.
'Well, they would've only slowed us down, anyways,' Bex says.
'Yup, boys will forever be the weaker sex!' I laugh, but I was hardly joking.
'You two are brave, heroic even. If you like, you can stay here for the time being. It's no fun living alone like this. No boys can stay though. I can't live with them,' Cali says.
'Oh, did… Er, never mind. Have you always lived alone?' I say.
'No, I used to live with my husband. He's gone now. I don't wanna talk about it,' Cali says; her slender shoulders stiffening. Could be divorce, but my guess is bereavement.
'Well, why don't we search for more supplies now?' Bex says. 'Get everything we can from the apartments before others raid them. We could be here a while…'
'Sure, but we'll need bags. Ours are with the boys,' I say.
'That's fine, I have rucksacks and holdalls we can use,' Cali says and I am impressed by her eagerness. Our determination must be rubbing off. Or more likely, the insulin has brought her back to life.
Stocking Up
The girls and I ransack every unlocked apartment we can find, returning to Cali's apartment whenever we can carry no more. Cali is carrying a torch so we can explore windowless apartments which are nerve-wrackingly dark. On the plus side, we do not discover a single corpse. Perhaps Kezan was exaggerating.
We obtain cereals, pastas, tins, wine, blankets, clothes, lighters, torches, batteries, pain-killers, knives, and everything we suspect may be useful, even a couple of mattresses – the effort of carrying those downstairs almost kills us.
'One more trip, and then we'll call it a night,' I gasp as we leave our impressive haul to gather more supplies.
We climb the window-lit concrete stairs, gasping as we reach the top floor. And we dare to approach the damaged side of the building to check the last few apartments in one of the unstable corridors. The lads could be just above our heads, and the gaping hole at the end of the corridor means they could probably hear us call. Cracks extend several yards along the walls, ceiling, and floors, and the neighbouring apartment block is visible, but I cannot see the shard from this position.
'We'll leave those two apartments closest to the damage – they won't be safe. Let's quickly try these ones and see what we find,' I say, wary of heavy movement as we sneak into the treacherous corridor.
We each try a different door handle, and as mine refuses to budge, Bex says, 'This one's open.' We join her side, stepping into the apartment to be greeted by a strong and unpleasant smell, like a toilet unflushed for days, but with a strange sweetness. The smell is unsettling, raises my arm hairs, stops me breathing through my nose.
'Maybe we shouldn't go any farther,' I whisper.
'Don't be silly. Whatever's hidden in there could be the difference between life and death. We need everything we can get,' Bex says.
Cali switches on her torch as we follow the dark passage, and the smell gets stronger with every accidental whiff. I can almost feel the toxic gases invading my pores, tempting me to sit this one out, but I grudgingly stick with my girls. We approach the living room door which is ajar, and Bex hesitates, turning to face us, grimacing.
She pushes with her fingertips and the door creaks open to reveal a person lying sprawled on the couch, only half-visible from this angle. All three of us whimper because their skin is shrivelled and grey, and their mouth is gaping. I squeeze my eyes shut before a clear visual can be etched into my brain.
'Oh my Goddess, I-I told you, we shouldn't have come. We need to go–'
'Going now won't change anything. Come on,' Bex says and her composure only unsettles me further.
Averting our eyes from the corpse lying just feet away, we approach the kitchen section of the room. The lack of windows means we are dependent on the torch which reveals cereal and other food scattered across the laminate flooring. Mould is growing from some of the scraps and the apartment is growing less appealing by the second. Tiptoeing through the mess, we raid the cupboards, collecting tins of food and a jar of chocolate powder.
'Okay, that's enough.' I retch as I accidentally breathe through my nose, concerned about plague spores, but I have surely been exposed to those many times.
'Let's quickly check the other rooms for anything useful,' Bex says, and we hurry from the living room without looking at the corpse, then we close the door.
Bex collects toilet rolls and shampoo from the bathroom, then Cali and I approach the final door which is barely visible until the torch is redirected. I turn the handle, pushing the door gently open, and Cali shines her torch into a windowless bedroom.
Immediately we burst into tears, exchanging devastated glances. I rush towards the double-bed where two tiny children are lying, arm-in-arm, in unicorn-print pyjamas. Cali points the light shakily towards them, revealing grey faces and curly hair. The poor kids cannot be more than two years old. Twin girls.
Cali and I sob as Bex touches our shoulders and guides us from the bedroom, closing the door. We have had enough exploring.
Lunch Time
We sit in Cali's apartment and the kitchen area is stocked with food, only about half of which is stored in the cupboards or fridge. The rest is stacked on the benches and the laminate flooring. A single mattress has taken up most of the living area, and a double mattress has been squeezed into the tiny spare room. I still have no idea how Bex and I found the strength to haul it down several flights of stairs. Our spare clothing has been left in Cali's bedroom, along with half the bags which have not been unpacked since the last raid.
Our efforts have proven more than successful, but we are in no mood to celebrate. An image of the grey, withered toddlers flashes in my mind, shredding my nerves, burning my flesh, yet chilling me to the bone. I imagine their fear and suffering, their desperation to bring their mother back, their desperation to survive, to eat, and finally, their surrender when they realised they had no hope and simply lay in bed, waiting for the inevitable.
They say children die quickly, that once they know the end is coming, they simply slip away. I just hope this is true, that their suffering did not last long.
'I-I'd seen them a few times. Their father lived with them too, I think. He must've abandoned them, or been killed elsewhere perhaps,' Cali says.
'Maybe he enlisted in the military. He must've returned at some point, though, otherwise the door would've been closed.' I take a deep breath. 'He probably saw their bodies, panicked and fled. It's not like he can make funeral arrangements.'
'What do you think killed them?' Bex whispers.
'I'm guessing the mother died from the plague, or suicide. Poor kids probably starved. They must've been so scared. I can't even bear thinking about it,' I say; my voice shaking.
'Just when I
think I'm ready, just when I think I'm finally tough enough for this world, I see shit like this and it breaks me again. Fuck, I was hoping tonight could be fun, a proper girls' night. We could drink some wine, act like all this isn't happening. Now I'm on a major downer,' Bex says.
'Let's eat. We need to keep our strength up… And we'll never talk about what we saw again.' I rise from the couch and collect bowls from a cupboard, laying them on the bench. I open a tin of sticky toffee pudding and scoop it into the bowls which I serve to the girls.
'I'm supposed to avoid puddings, but my blood sugar must be low since I've had my insulin,' Cali says.
'You can't eat puddings because of your illness?' Bex says.
'Diabetes means I can't process sugar properly. My body produces low levels of insulin so I become ill when I eat, and must closely monitor my diet. My recent hunger will have helped in that regard, but even small amounts of food can cause me problems, unless I inject insulin. I was feeling incredibly weak and tired earlier. Without you guys, I would've been completely helpless,' Cali says.
'It's easy to forget how much we depend on each other, eh? We think we're self-sufficient until our support is taken away,' I say.
'Actually, I've never seen myself as self-sufficient,' Cali says, and I find those words strange. I thought Level Three Citizens were just as self-sufficient as bottom-levellers, given their struggles.
We eat the sticky toffee pudding cold with our fingers, not giving a damn. It tastes so good, provides the energy my muscles are crying out for, distracts me from the horror. When we have finished, we open more tins, savoury this time, and I eat beans and sausages for dessert, washing them down with filtered tap water.
I nod to the blank compuscreen fixed to Cali's wall and say: 'The guys on the rooftop have a working perpetuator. We could get them to–'
'No, I don't want them coming in here. They're dangerous,' Cali says.
'They seemed okay to me, helped when we were in trouble,' I say.
'They're the kind who'll pick your pockets, stick a knife in your back, or your front,' Cali says.
'Actually, we're that kind… Well, I wouldn't stab anyone… female…' Bex says.
'I know you two are trustworthy because you helped me, but them? They would take over this place and I wouldn't be able to stop them,' Cali says.
'Okay, fair enough. I get you're not the trusting type. That's totally understandable. So what happened to your husband? You kill him or something?' Bex smirks, but Cali glares, and I mouth what the hell?
'No, I tried to chop his cock off!' Cali says in a monotone. 'He used to beat me, treat me like crap, use me for one thing, cheat on me. One night, I'd had enough. I waited in bed with a knife under the pillow, watched him strip naked and lunged at him, missed by an inch. Good job it was so small! He fled and I chased him out the building. He ran starkers along the street. I screamed that if he ever came back, I'd kill him, then I threw his clothes into the garbage.
'I spent days terrified he'd return and try to kill me, but he never came. I realised that as powerful as he'd always seemed, he was just as fragile as I was. He relied on me being submissive, cowering to him. Then like all bullies, when the tables were turned, he showed his cowardly side.
'I don't even know where he could've gone, but the thought of him wandering naked, trying to figure it out, gives me joy. He deserved that. He should be grateful he's still got that little pecker!'
'You know what, Cali? I think I might have a new hero!' Bex says and we laugh a little, our eyes still teary.
The Blizzard
'We really should check in with the boys. They'll be worried,' I say, facing a coffee table covered in bowls and empty tins.
'Yeah, right now, they'll be busy not planning a rescue mission. Let's go and put them out their misery,' Bex says, and we rise from our seats, even though I feel reluctant to leave our shelter.
'We'll see you later, Cali,' I say as she lazes on the grey couch with seemingly nothing to do, apart from maybe read her book. It makes me wonder how she kept her sanity when she was alone, especially when night fell. She is lucky this apartment has windows, given the lack of power. Many in this building are lacking the luxury of light.
'And don't go drinking that wine without us.' Bex laughs, but to be fair, if I was in her position, I would probably get wasted alone, simply to make the waiting bearable.
We put our rubbish into a black binbag which is sitting beside the overflowing bin. Then we leave Cali's apartment with Kezan's medical supplies inside my coat pocket. I finally get my phaser back from Bex as we descend the concrete stairs.
We march from the lobby into the street where there are still no crazies lurking, but I am ready to shoot. Billowing clouds have darkened the sky to a grey-purple and it feels significantly colder than earlier. I glance to the surrounding apartment blocks which I had not paid much attention to. All of them are different sizes, colours, and designs – all equally decrepit – and none appear to have a rooftop village. Howdon must once have looked seriously lopsided when there were fewer huge buildings. They say these things sprouted in the last century, one after another, to solve the post-war housing crisis, getting bigger and cheaper each time. Although ours is a large apartment block for the area, other parts of old town have blocks at least thirty stories high. You can imagine how exhausting climbing their fire escapes is.
'We can either climb the shard, or go to the fire escape, yell, and hope they hear us,' I say as we stand before the grey façade of the building.
'I dunno about you, but I'm going the fun way.' Bex jogs away so I shrug and follow her around the corner to the shard. Curling my lips, I sheath my phaser and clamber over rubble before I am left behind.
We needlessly climb the curved interior of black metal and dusty glass when we could be climbing a frigging ladder. Thanks Bex. The shard seems so much taller and more hazardous, now I am not being chased. And it feels a hell of a lot more exhausting with extra layers of clothing and without adrenaline coursing through my veins.
About six hours later (a tiny exaggeration), we emerge at the top of the shard, hang from the edge and drop onto the rooftop. We approach the huts to see the boys sitting at the tables with some of the others, failing to notice our approach. They are playing a game on a board with black and white squares and wooden figures. A snowflake falls right before my nose, then another, and the wind picks up. Wonderful.
'Hey, losers, you miss us?' Bex says.
'Emmi, you're okay! What took you so long?' Oscar shrieks, looking up from the board game.
'Hey, there's two of us here,' Bex hisses.
'So what happened?' Scoop says eagerly, showing none of Oscar's concern.
Bex and I sit at one of the tables and fill the boys in on our grim adventure, and of course, they do not believe half of what we say. Kind of ironic, since we withheld grisly details like the dead twins. Our bags are stored in the shed, and Scoop assures us they are safe, thanks to his courageous guarding while we retrieved the insulin. I reach into my coat pocket for the bandages and anti-septic cream, handing them across the table to Kezan. He removes his coat, rolls up his sleeve, and dresses the bite on his forearm.
'I don't really see the point,' Kezan mutters while taping his bandage. 'I'm a survivor anyways, I think. When people started falling sick, I did too. Two of our guys lost their lives, but for some reason I wasn't too ill. I've been fine ever since. I still get the occasional boil though.'
'I've been told it affects people differently so you could be correct,' I say and Kezan rolls down his sleeve, then puts his coat back on before he freezes. 'Some people will die quickly. Others are completely immune. Everyone else is something between. Still, let's not take chances. You could've just caught a flu virus. The boils could be acne. You might still be vulnerable.'
The snow gets heavier as we talk, streaking down from the sky, and concealing the cityscape beneath an orange-tinged blanket. The fire drums hiss with increasing loudness and the flames may
soon be extinguished. It makes the boys concerned about how we, or rather they, are going to keep warm tonight. I do not have the heart to tell them Bex and I will be okay.
'Oh, I forgot to mention, Cali has a working CUS.' Bex draws a smiley face in the snow on the table. 'She just needs a perpetuator.'
'Great, we can take it down there, get online, and see if we can find out what's happening out there,' Kezan says as his wooden figures are consumed by white powder. He shakes the board, places it inside a box, and does the same with the pieces. Then he rests the box on his lap, sheltered below the table.
'That's a no-go, I'm afraid.' I blink as a sharp coldness meet my eyelids. 'She has issues with strangers, especially men.'
'Yeah, last time one crossed her, she tried to chop his cock off!' Bex says with a grin of pure delight, but the boys fall understandably silent, squirming in their seats.
'Bex and I could take it down there, get online, and find out whatever you guys wanna know,' I say optimistically.
'No offence, but you're not borrowing our perpetuator. It's our most important possession,' Sirah says with understandable wariness. I would not lend a valuable item to friends, let alone strangers, but this plan could be in everyone's interests. It will only be a matter of time until the villagers return to their huts and we need to establish a course of action.
'Most important possession? You can't even use the damn thing!' Bex folds her arms and her frosted hair is lifted by the wind.
'But we can't afford to lose it, either. That's a no, I'm afraid,' Sirah says firmly.
'So, lemme get this straight: We've gotta CUS that we can't bring up here, and a perpetuator we can't take down there. The frigging irony!' Bex says.
'Well, I may have a solution. Cali's main issue seems to be with men. If we take Sirah with us, she may be persuaded to let her in,' I say.
