The Survivors_Pandemic

by Alex Burns

  “No,” I said sadly. “I understand. But we still need to tell her.”

  “We will. Tomorrow.” Mum let out a big sigh and wrapped her arm around me. We sat there for the next little while, mother and daughter, curled up together. She stroked my hair and I dozed off in her lap.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I didn’t want to get out of bed. There didn’t seem to be much point. I lay there, cocooned against the world, with Gertrude snoozing by my head. I put my hand out and rested it on her warm little body. It was comforting to touch another living being, even if she was just a cat.

  It was Charlotte who eventually got me up. She came hesitantly into my room in the late morning, peeking around the door.

  “Are you awake, Auntie Alice?” she whispered.

  I rolled over and looked at her. Her blonde hair was a mess and she was still in her pyjamas. A surge of self-derision flooded through me. I was failing my guardianship duties already. I pushed the blankets back and sat up.

  “Yeah, pumpkin. I’m awake.” I rubbed my eyes and pushed my lank hair out of my face.

  “You’re not sick?”

  Of course. How could I be so stupid?

  “No, I’m not sick. I was just… very tired. I’m getting up now.” I pulled on some nearby pyjama bottoms and reached for my dressing gown. “Where’s Grandma?”

  “She’s sleeping on the couch,” Charlotte said.

  “Oh. Is she?” Fear prickled me as I pulled my slippers on and ushered Charlotte out of my room. Sure enough, Mum was sitting on the couch, with her head thrown back. The faint sound of snoring made me breathe easier and the prickles of fear subside. Mum looked like she hadn’t moved since I’d gone to bed last night.

  It was almost pleasant, sitting in front of the roaring fire. Rain splattered against the window and thunder grumbled in the distance. The lounge room felt like a warm, cozy oasis. Charlotte lay on the rug in front of the fire with the two dogs on either side of her. She had an old colouring book that had somehow remained uncoloured until now, and she was attacking the pages with gusto. Colouring within the lines seemed to be optional. Mum and I were both sitting on the couch, watching her.

  Mum took a deep breath and nodded.

  “Charlotte, honey. Come here, please.” Mum patted the spot on the couch between us. Charlotte obligingly put her pencil down and climbed up onto the couch. “We need to talk to you about something very important,” Mum continued, staring down at Charlotte intently. Charlotte glanced at me, a sight frown marring her face.

  “Okay.” Charlotte sat patiently while Mum tried to find the right words. I stroked Charlotte’s hair, marvelling at how soft it felt. She leaned into me and tucked her feet up under herself.

  “We need to talk about your parents,” Mum started and then stalled again, looking up at the roof as if she’d find the words she needed floating around up there.

  “When are Mummy and Daddy coming here?” Charlotte asked in a small voice, tracing a circle round and round on my leg with her finger. “I miss them.”

  “Oh, pumpkin…” I gathered her to me and hugged her.

  Mum took a deep breath. “Your mummy and daddy can’t come here,” she said and then faltered. “Do you know what death, or dying means, Charlotte?”

  Charlotte nodded.

  “What does it mean?” Mum asked quietly.

  “It means they go away and you can’t see them again anymore.”

  “That’s right. When a person dies, it’s very sad for the people left behind, because we can’t see them anymore. But…” Mum blinked rapidly. “But it doesn’t mean they stop loving us, or we stop loving them.”

  Charlotte didn’t say anything, just looked at me and then back at Mum.

  “Mummy and Daddy aren’t dead. They’re sleeping.”

  I blinked, trying to keep my own tears at bay.

  “Charlotte, I know it’s hard, but… Mummy and Daddy did fall asleep, but they couldn’t wake up. They died.”

  “When can I see them?”

  “Not for a very long time,” Mum said, reaching out to stroke her granddaughter’s cheek.

  Charlotte’s chin wobbled.

  “It’s okay to cry,” I said, hugging her to me. “And it’s okay to be sad. We’re all very sad and miss them.”

  We lost ourselves in our grief. Days passed in a blur. I felt like an emotionless zombie at times, and other times I thought I would drown in tears. I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. How could we possibly recover from so much loss? Charlotte withdrew into herself. She spent hours and hours lying on her bed. Tilly the cat took up a strange vigil, sitting with the girl constantly.

  Mum spent a lot of time down in her veggie garden. When she was inside she kept aimlessly wandering around the house, rearranging photos, dusting mantle shelves that didn’t need to be dusted, cataloging her stores of supplies over and over again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  There was a knock at the door. A normal sound, but one that we hadn’t heard for weeks. The three of us froze around the kitchen table, Charlotte with a spoon halfway to her mouth. Maggie started barking. Mum slowly raised herself out of the chair, and with a puzzled frown at me, peeked through the kitchen window.

  “I’ll be damned,” she muttered. Curiosity piked, I got up as well and peered through the window. Jack stood there, wrapped up in his brown oilskin coat. He looked even scruffier than when I’d last seen. An old man in a blue jacket and hat stood next to him.

  I followed Mum around to the door. Mum had to push Maggie out of the way to answer it.

  “Jack. Andy. How -” She paused. The usual greetings sounded strange, but at least one was true. “It’s good to see you both. Come in.” Mum gave them both a hug and then stood back. The two men both stomped into the house, kicking off their muddy boots by the door.

  Jack nodded at me. “Alice, this is my grandfather, Andy. Pa, this is Alice.”

  I smiled tentatively at the old man. He had the same brilliant green eyes as Jack, but apart from that they didn’t look very alike. Jack was tall and solid, while his grandfather was barely taller than me, and had white hair that stuck out in a way that would have been comical at any other time.

  “Would you like a cuppa?” Mum asked after a few moments of awkward silence.

  “That would be lovely, thank you Jenny,” Andy replied in a quiet voice.

  We all trooped back into the kitchen. Charlotte stared wide-eyed at the newcomers. She dropped her spoon with a clatter.

  “This is my granddaughter, Charlotte. Sarah’s little girl.” Mum flicked the kettle on and pulled out four sets of cups and saucers.

  Andy nodded and smiled at Charlotte. “Yes, I can see Sarah in her.”

  Charlotte blinked, surprised, but looked pleased.

  “Charlotte, this is Andy and Jack,” Mum said.

  “Hello,” Charlotte said shyly. Jack stared intently at Charlotte for a few moments before shaking his head softly.

  “Hello, Charlotte. It’s nice to see you again. You wouldn’t remember, but I met you when you were a baby. I knew your mum.”

  “Really?” Charlotte’s eyes danced over Jack with interest.

  Jack nodded. “Yeah. We went to school together. She was my very good friend.”

  Charlotte’s delighted smile slowly turned into a frown. “Mummy’s dead.”

  “I know,” Jack said quietly. “I was very sad when I found out.”

  “Me too,” Charlotte said.

  “Why don’t you go and pick out a movie, sweetheart?” Mum said, stroking Charlotte’s hair.

  “Okay, Grandma.” The little girl ran out of the room. Mum sighed, staring after her.

  “We were very sorry to hear about Sarah and her husband,” Andy said after a moment. “We were very fond of her. She was a lovely young woman.”

  “Thank you,” Mum said, blinking back tears. I stepped over to Mum and squeezed her hand.

  “You sit down, Mum. I’ll make these.”

&nb
sp; Mum and the two men sat around the little kitchen table. I leaned on the bench, surveying them, while I waited for the kettle to boil.

  “Angela and Steve didn’t make it, did they?” Mum asked softly, referring to Jack’s parents. I didn’t know if Andy was Steve or Angela’s father.

  Jack and Andy both shook their heads.

  “I’m sorry,” Mum said sadly. I echoed her. The kettle boiled and I busied myself making four cups of tea. The table was silent while I worked and then handed the cups out. Once we were all seated, Andy glanced at Jack and said, “Sophie - Jack’s partner - didn’t make it either.”

  Jack didn’t look up. I’d known that already, but it was still hard to hear.

  “Oh Jack, honey. I’m so sorry.” Mum reached out and laid her hand on Jack’s arm. Jack grimaced but patted Mum’s hand with his spare one. “It’s a hard time for all of us. It seems everyone’s lost someone, or many someones.”

  Andy’s hand shook as he spooned some sugar into his tea.

  “That’s part of the reason we’ve dropped by… we’ve been going round to all the houses in town, and the surrounding farms…”

  “To see whose still alive?” I asked.

  Jack nodded grimly. “Yeah. Something like that. And to call a meeting.”

  “A meeting?” Mum echoed with a slight frown.

  Jack nodded again. “We need to discuss what to do, going forward. By now it’s become pretty clear that the authorities aren’t going to swoop in and fix things up, unfortunately.” Jack blew on his tea and took a sip.

  “As a community, there are a few things that we need to decide on,” Andy said.

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “Well, for starters,” Andy said, still stirring his tea, “what to do with the dead.”

  “Right,” Mum said. I shuddered. The dead. How many rotting corpses were just lying around? I didn’t want to think about it.

  “We can’t just leave them rotting in their homes,” Andy said with a sigh and brought his cup up to his lips, but put it down again without drinking. “It won’t be easy, but we do need to do something.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Mum said after a moment, frowning into her cup.

  “When’s the meeting?” I asked.

  “Tomorrow. At the town hall. Ten in the morning. We should have gotten to all the houses by then,” Andy said.

  “Do you need any help?” Mum asked.

  Jack shook his head. “No, thanks though, Jenny. We’re almost done actually.”

  Mum bit her lip. “How many?”

  Jack closed his eyes and scratched his beard. “Not many left.”

  “Only a few dozen,” Andy said quietly. “Some people might have left town before… Well, we haven’t gone into the houses to fully investigate yet, so we’re not sure on the exact tally, but…” the old man trailed off.

  “We’ve just been knocking on doors and calling out,” Jack explained. “It’s more of a surprise than not if someone actually answers the door.”

  I let out a deep breath I hadn’t even realised I’d been holding. The scale of this disaster was unimaginable, and it didn’t completely hit me until we sat around the town hall the next morning.

  Mum and I decided to go up early to help set up. Hovering around the house waiting was driving Mum nuts. The town hall was less than a ten minute walk from Mum’s house. We went next door with Charlotte to see if Ina wanted to come with us. I felt a twinge of guilt that I hadn’t come over to see her yet. I’d been so lost in my grief for the dead and missing that I hadn’t really given all that much thought to the living.

  I let Charlotte ring the doorbell.

  I shot Mum a worried glance when there was no answer, but she didn’t look too perturbed.

  “She’s a bit slow these days,” Mum whispered. “Give her a minute.”

  Sure enough, just as I was starting to think Ina had kicked the bucket as well, the door creaked open. The old lady looked frail and smaller than I remembered. Her wispy white hair swam around her head like a cloud.

  “Oh my,” Ina croaked. She cleared her throat with a mildly disgusting cough. “What do we have here?” She was looking down at Charlotte, who smiled up at her shyly. The old woman’s eyes slowly drifted upwards to Mum and me.

  “Is that you, Alice dear?”

  I nodded. “Yes, it’s me.”

  “You’re home,” she said, sounding relieved.

  “Yes, I’m home,” I said.

  “Good,” she said shortly. “And who do we have here?” Ina bent down to look at Charlotte more closely. Charlotte took a step towards Mum and half hid behind her.

  “This is Charlotte,” Mum said, putting a reassuring arm around her. “Sarah’s little girl.”

  “Ah. Yes. She does look like Sarah. Except for the hair colour of course.”

  Mum smiled down at Charlotte, and stroked her hair. “Just like Sarah,” she echoed.

  “It’s good that you’re home. Safe and sound. It’s good to be home at times like this, yes.” She regarded us through the screen door, still nodding. “Do you want to come in?”

  Mum shook her head. “No. We wondered if you wanted to come to the town meeting with us?”

  Ina shook her head. “Oh, no. I can’t walk that far. I was going to drive. I still have some petrol left. You’re welcome to come with me.” I eyed Mum cautiously. She’d always been a bit leery of letting us in the car with Ina. Bit of a speed demon, the old lady was.

  “All right,” Mum said.

  “Let me get my coat.”

  Within a few minutes Ina was back, bright red coat slung over her arm. She came out and shut the door firmly behind her. “Not much point locking it anymore,” she said in an oddly bright voice. I quirked an eyebrow at her. No one usually locked anything in Turalla anyway, even before. Lucy hadn’t understood my excitement at having my very own set of keys when we got our first apartment together. I’d had to explain to the bewildered city girl that you couldn’t even lock my parents home even if you wanted to (broken door handle), and I’d never had a key. I didn’t even know where the keys to Mum’s house were, although she’d assured me that you could actually lock up the dwelling these days.

  We weren’t sure how many seats to put out. Mum got Ina comfortable in a seat up the front and Charlotte perched on the chair next to her, looking curiously around. It was dim in the hall. There was no generator here. After a bit of searching, I found the cord to open the high windows and some weak sunlight seeped in.

  The hall was mostly bare. There was a very old portrait of the Queen hanging up on the wall, and a plaque commemorating one of the wars. I’d never looked too closely at it. An old church pew sat on one side of the hall, and there was a little stage up the front. I’d done a few school concerts there over the years; primary school Christmas carols and the like.

  Jack and Andy arrived not long after we finished putting the plastic chairs out.

  “Morning,” Jack said, nodding at us all.

  I leaned against the wall, watching as the townsfolk slowly began to trickle in. I searched each new face, looking for the familiar. You’d think I’d know everyone in the small town I grew up in, but I didn’t. I’d been gone for almost a decade, and some people you just never had much to do with. If they didn’t have a kid your age, were your age, or weren’t a part of the school, footy or netball club, then they hadn’t really crossed my radar.

  There were a few familiar faces. Fiona, the minister’s wife who used to come in and do religious instruction with us when I was in primary school; Judy, who owned the only pub in town; old Mr Douglas who everyone just seemed to know; Mrs Brown, my old art teacher; a woman around my age who I was sure I knew from school or netball but couldn’t remember her name; one of the ladies who ran the fish and chip shop; Kristy Bell, the Queen Bee of her year level and Sarah’s nemesis. I frowned as I watched her come in. She’d made Sarah’s life hell for a year or two in high school. Why was she alive and my sister not? Kristy
looked haggard, with dark circles around her eyes and she kept wringing her hands together - a far cry from the confident, pretty, blonde girl who used to strut around school. Everyone looked pretty haggard to be honest. Haunted. Hungry.

  The first few rows of seats filled up, neighbours and friends greeting and murmuring to each other. My eyes drifted back to Kristy. She sat alone, hunched up. Jack and Andy roamed around the hall, briefly talking to everyone who came in.

  My eyebrows grew a life of their own when Crackhead Jimmy came in. I’d almost forgotten he even existed. He’d been in my year at school, and a bit of a joke. He’d started experimenting with drugs early, and I’d usually avoided him. He’d dropped out in Year 11, and as far as I knew, had never been able to hold down a job for more than a couple of months. His name popped up every now and then in the district newspaper for court appearances. Breaking and entering. Driving under the influence. Petty theft. Drug dealing. He’d been in and out of jail a few times, I vaguely remembered. Always got out and went straight back to his old habits. He’d hung out with a bunch of other no-hopers at school. I’d seen them hanging out the back of the pub last time Sarah, Tom, and I had ventured up a couple of Christmas’ ago. His parents and siblings were so different. His older brother, Andrew, was some fancy big shot lawyer in Melbourne, and his sister Isobel had been one of Sarah’s friends. She had a PhD in some sort of obscure branch of physics and worked at the uni. Nice, smart, talented. And then there was Jimmy. What a waste.

  I kept staring at him. He was thin and didn’t look healthy at all. His clothes were dirty, and his eyes darted nervously around the hall. He sat alone, not meeting anyone’s eyes. I stared at him a moment longer and then stormed outside. I suddenly needed some fresh air. I glanced up and down the empty street and then crossed the road to the nature strip. I stood by an old stump, catching my breath.