Graham Johns's Blog, page 6

Lockdown – Day Ten (continued)

Day Ten continues…I shall be taking the long Easter weekend off so you will have to be patient in finding out what happens next…not that I’ve got a lot of stuff to do outside during a lockdown but a change is as good as a rest…

Enjoy!

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DAY TEN (continued)

John

After realising that the car was short on petrol, I’ve been worried about just how far we might get. It doesn’t take long for the helpful car to inform us that we are running on empty and need to refuel in the next thirty kilometres or so. I think we might need at least double that to get to Rebecca’s parents. Rebecca wants to get back to the highway in hope that we will find a car with some petrol there, or maybe a pump that still works. From the cars we’ve seen in the residential streets around here, it’s obvious that they won’t be much help and that we should move on. I wonder whether we should try large car parks in the city centre but Rebecca tells me in no uncertain terms that going into the city would be foolish, “There are too many people there.”

We press on.

We are able to return to the highway after a detour of only a few kilometres. The road is surprisingly clear. There are a few cars which have mounted the central reservation or the banking by the hard shoulder, looking in some cases like they may have been pushed or dragged there to keep the road open. I guess it didn’t matter now.

I can’t understand why I didn’t notice any of this when I came back from the south. I can only assume I was still in some kind of stupor after drinking myself silly for weeks and that I probably shouldn’t have been driving. Mind you, the northbound side that I’ve been able to see has been clear so maybe it is more a sign of people trying to get out of the city than of getting in.

We haven’t seen any cars that seem worthy of attention and so we leave the highway to pause at a BP services. I’m scared to turn off the engine in case it won’t start again. The pumps here are dormant. There are no opportunities otherwise either. We don’t tarry. It isn’t long until we move onto rural roads. As habit dictates that I signal to come off the highway my trusty Honda starts to cough, almost like it has a virus of its own. There’s a petrol station in around five kilometres but it might as well be ten times that. I pull over on a grass verge. It hasn’t been cut for a long time now and the bumper ploughs through the blades.

“Great,” I say.

“Walk?” Rebecca asks with a sigh.

I nod, “It looks like it. I could try going to the Caltex down the road if you like though? They might have a can I can fill up and bring back. Or do you guys think you could walk for at least ten kilometres?”

It’s around three o’clock already. None of us really want to be out here at nightfall, if nothing else it would seem rather uncivilised. It might take me a few hours to get there and back, and even then it might be for nothing.

Rebecca shares a look with Sarah in the backseat and concludes without any words between them, “Let’s walk.”

Sarah

I don’t really want to walk but it feels like this new world, despite all of the space and options we suddenly have, there are actually fewer genuine choices. It’s just about survival. Right now, we need to find some shelter for the night and hope the zoo animals haven’t followed us this far. I’m really hungry.

Finding accommodation in this part of the world might be harder because the houses are further apart, with acres of farmland in the middle. They grow a lot of potatoes and onions around here so maybe we can make a nice soup for dinner at the very least. We start off positively, we are bound to find somewhere. The sun decides to put in an appearance for the first time today to coincide with our trek. It feels like it is burning and I wish I had a hat. I feel OK to be walking which is more than I might say about Rebecca but then she seems to be made of steel.

Progress is slow. After twenty minutes John stops in frustration, him having all of the bags.

“Do we really need the clothes?” he asks, getting red in the face.

Rebecca says, “Not really. Sarah?”

“I thought they were mostly yours anyway. I’m happy enough to find stuff on the way, even if I have to wear floral print.” I smile at them. I prefer black.

John looks happy and relieved. He opens the bags and redistributes what we have so he can ditch one of the bags by the roadside. He leaves it open so if anything or anyone wants a new jumper they can help themselves. Only three left now.

“I guess we still need the books,” he comments. “It really makes you appreciate the internet. It’s a shame it was so full of pictures of cats and meaningless selfies.”

“Didn’t you ever take a selfie, John?” I ask. “Didn’t you have any friends?”

I think I hit a bit of a nerve because he makes a noise that sounds a bit like harrumph and walks on. Rebecca thinks it’s hilarious and says, “I guess not” to me.

“I’m not sure I ever had much cause to take a selfie either,” she adds just for my benefit.

Doing her job, perhaps I’m not surprised.

“I guess we won’t have much reason going forward either,” I reply, a little sadly.

She puts her arm around my shoulder, partly out of leaning and partly out of protection, it’s been ages since I’ve been hugged and it feels weird.

Rebecca says, “You never know. If we find a phone with some juice left in it and a reason to remember something we can always take one.”

John

Finally! I see a house off to the left, not too far. I start gesticulating to the ladies some distance behind me, looking like they’re off for a Sunday afternoon stroll along the beach.

I don’t wait for them as I start to walk down a fairly long driveway. It’s slightly overgrown here. I have to walk around the side of a gate which is chained and padlocked across the entrance. When I reach the house, it’s huge. This bungalow must have five bedrooms easily. It also has a stable visible. Sarah will love this. There are two horses in a paddock happily grazing. Their stable door is open to them if they want it but they don’t retreat from me. The sight of such beautiful creatures makes me feel at peace. Just in case, I go to the door of the house and knock.

I’m pretty surprised when the door opens without my forcing it.

Lockdown – Day Ten

Hello once more…join me as we journey back to Auckland, New Zealand, to find out what might happen to John, Sarah and Rebecca today as they plan to head south…

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DAY TEN

John

I still think it’s odd how quiet it is around here and I wonder how long it might take for me to think of it as normal. Not that the quiet itself is odd, not in this country anyway, more that the presence of houses accompanying the lack of people in a built-up environment is rather discomforting. The walk to my old house takes time. Rebecca is still limping and Sarah is supporting her a little, while also leaning into Rebecca from time to time. If it wasn’t for our predicament as a species and as a small party, it would be rather funny to watch. I’m dragging or carrying several bags as best I can with clothes and supplies inside.

I could almost imagine we are the last people on Earth if it wasn’t for having seen someone else in the library. According to Rebecca, there are groups out there who have gone all ‘Mad Max’ on the whole situation. I have no reason to doubt her. Hopefully we won’t come across them on our travels.

We can see the volcanic Rangitoto Island as we approach my house. It sits out to the east of the city, serving as a reminder of geologically turbulent days in history, I wonder if a volcanic eruption would class as more severe than what has recently occurred. There are other islands in the Hauraki Gulf we could look to go to after we find Rebecca’s parents I suppose. At least we have options, although it perhaps stands to reason that others may have got there before us.

It hadn’t occurred to me until now that I’d been carrying my keys around for the past few days. It seems absurd but I old habits die hard. I load the car while Sarah and Rebecca climb in, Sarah taking the back seat. I go inside the house briefly. I’m not sure why I want to come in, maybe it’s for one last look, though that doesn’t include seeing Sarah’s body on the deck. I take a photo out of a frame which sits atop a bookcase in the hall, one of the both of us on our wedding day. I’m not sure why I feel inclined to keep it but I stow it in my jacket for now. For some reason I lock the house as I leave, despite knowing that I might not be back here ever again.

My Honda starts first time. It’s a small SUV so there is plenty of space for us and our collection of items. I reverse out of the drive and away we go.

The drive across the Harbour Bridge makes me feel a bit melancholy. The Sky Tower stands like a gravestone, ominously telling anyone that this is not a place to linger. I didn’t notice when I came north that this carriageway has had some issues. It looks like a vehicle must have forcibly managed to drive off the bridge at some point as there is a gaping hole in the safety barrier. Perhaps they wanted an easy way out. As we come off the bridge, the road is blocked on the entry into the tunnel. I don’t bother checking the mirrors as I reverse back down the main highway, coming off an earlier exit.

“At least we got over the harbour I suppose,” Rebecca comments from the passenger seat, “hopefully we can find a way through the back roads.”

Sarah

It feels like ages since I’ve been south of the harbour. It doesn’t feel as open over here. Houses feel more densely packed, there are older trees casting ominous shadows over the roads. It’s quite nice to be off the highway though, it feels like we’re less obvious.

Something catches my eye as we drive past a small park. I can’t believe my eyes. A fairly large tree is moving and then it falls. It is no word of a lie that there are two elephants there.

“Stop the car!” I yell.

John wonders what’s wrong as he slams the brakes on. I point out of the window rather than him staring at me.

We wind our windows down and stare. John turns off the engine.

“I can’t believe it,” I say. I try to remember to close my mouth but don’t.

“They must have got out of the zoo,” John replies, a big smile on his face.

“More likely they let them out before they became prisoners,” Rebecca says. She is probably right. The keepers probably died months ago.

As if on cue, a small group of baboons crosses the road in front of us. One of them is carrying something. It resembles a ball. I think they’ll be fine in this situation. I wonder if the same is true of the native species if a zoo has released many who do not belong here. Only time will tell I suppose. Despite the wonder of New Zealand now having wild elephants and baboons, it does make me think that extra care may be required. It’s possible that other zoos will have done likewise. There could be hungry lions or tigers out there.

In the distance, a shot rings out. It’s not so close as to cause worry but it does quickly refocus our attention. John turns the engine over again and we move away, windows closed once more.

“Oh damn,” he says, hitting the steering wheel with his hand.

“What is it?” Rebecca asks.

“I don’t think we’ll have enough petrol to get to your parents.”

He parks for a moment and gets out. I lean out of the window and can see him putting the fuel cap back in place. He looks pretty angry as he gets back in.

“Somebody must’ve syphoned some off while we’ve been away!” He hits the steering wheel again, with a little more force. I’m not sure he seems as nice when he’s angry.

“We can search a few cars as we go if needed,” Rebecca says. “I’ve got a tube we can use as a syphon in the medical stuff.”

That calms him down a little and he moves off once more. I hope we don’t have to walk too far, it took so long just to get to the car in the beginning.

Lockdown – Day Nine

Hi Readers. Day Nine. I wonder what will happen today…well, OK, I should say I have wondered it and then created it…

Enjoy! And keep the comments coming…

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DAY NINE

Sarah

I think I can see straight now. I don’t feel like I want to puke anymore. The ringing in my ears has faded. My head still throbs. At least I can move around.

When I enter the lounge of the apartment, John and Rebecca are sitting on opposite sides of the room on the leather chairs. I think I’ve interrupted something.

“Hey, how are you?” John asks, looking concerned but relieved.

“I think I’m much better, thanks.”

“You were lucky,” Rebecca says, shaking her head, “that man has done far worse to other women since the virus.”

I nod, not wishing to know any more. I didn’t see him and I don’t want to think about him anymore. I need to try to move on.

“What’s happening?” I ask.

“We were just talking about what we should do next,” John replies, “want to join in?”

“I really want a drink if that’s OK?” I ask.

Rebecca leaps to her feet and heads into the open plan kitchen, returning with a glass of apple juice, marked with greasy fingerprints but clean enough. I guess it hasn’t seen detergent for a while. It tastes great.

I relax onto the sofa and immediately feel like I want to sleep again but try to stay with the conversation.

“After getting the books, we were thinking about finding somewhere to live away from here. We hadn’t decided where,” John said.

“Do you know anything about living a subsistence lifestyle?” Rebecca asks.

John looks like a little kid who has just been caught in a lie as he says, “Not really, no.”

Indicating me, Rebecca says, “Does she?”

“She’s better than me, if that’s what you mean,” John replies.

“He’s not wrong,” I advise sagely, “my mum taught me quite a bit about growing things.”

Rebecca shakes her head in thought, “I wonder how long you would’ve lasted if I hadn’t come along, I need to go and find my parents to the south. If you plan to go that way, I guess I could travel that far with you.”

“Don’t you know if they are OK?” John asks.

“No. It’s a perfect storm. I was working so hard looking after the sick and vulnerable that I never had time to contact them, and then before you know it we’d lost the technology to make it happen.” She appears regretful, like maybe she wished she hadn’t been a doctor.

“Do you think they’re still there?”

“Maybe. My dad was in a wheelchair so I guess it’s possible. They lived on a lifestyle block so they had fruit and veggies. They also had a small flock of sheep and goats. In theory they could last for ages, if they avoided it or were immune like me.” She doesn’t look convinced they would be there.

“I think coming with you is the least we can do,” I say.

John agrees, “Yes. We owe you big time. And if we find them, maybe we can help them too.”

“Where do they live?” I ask.

“Pukekohe, not far, as the crow flies anyway. It depends if the road is open really,” Rebecca seems to come to a realisation, “assuming we have access to a car.”

“I doubt that will be a problem,” John says, “my car should get us that far at the very least, and there ought to be others around too.”

“If you’ve got petrol, that’s something, I’ve seen people syphoning it out of cars wherever they could as the pumps started to dry up. It doesn’t mean there isn’t petrol under the forecourts, just that there’s no way of getting it out,” Rebecca tells him.

“I guess we can try,” John offers.

Rebecca nods and so do I, although mine is the incoming tide of sleep once again.

John

“If they’re there, do you think you’d want to stay? Would you want company?” I ask.

“It all depends what we find,” Rebecca replies coldly. “It’s hard to see past an odd kind of nomadic or subsistence existence at present, isn’t it?”

“I guess so. Do you think we should try to gather things along the way to wherever we end up? Things like seeds, plants, animals?”

“Two by two? Are you planning to build an ark?” she says sarcastically.

I huff in response, seeing the funny side, “Not really. I just thought there might need to be a bit of that kind of thing.”

“All we can do is expect the unexpected and try to adapt I reckon.”

“When should we go?” I ask.

“Let’s leave in the morning. I think Sarah needs another day of rest. We can go and get a few more supplies before then.”

I write a short note for Sarah so we don’t wake her to let her know we’ve nipped out and prop it on the floor so she’ll see it when she wakes. Hopefully we won’t be long.

Rebecca leads us back to the hospital. She trusts me to deal with the acquiring of food and drinks this time because she wants to gather medication. She has brought a small, wheeled suitcase for the job.

“Really?” I asked her as she dragged it out of the top of a wardrobe in the apartment.

“At least I can drag it instead of carry it.”

It doesn’t take me long to gather what little sustenance looks edible and I wait for her to return. The floor of this grey corridor squeaks when you move around on it so sitting is very quiet, yet cold. I remember how I always used to wait for Sarah before I left her, she was always doing her hair, changing her clothes, changing her shoes, doing makeup or some such delay that she really didn’t need to do. She was beautiful yet didn’t know it. I messed up. I wasn’t there for her. I know I can’t undo the past but it doesn’t stop the guilt. I was off in a world of my own while the world went down the pan. I guess I am a little relieved I don’t have any family left to worry about and very few friends to boot. It sounds like they would almost all have died anyway.

Rebecca has been gone a long time. I’m starting to worry. I don’t know where she went so I can’t really go and look for her in case she comes back.

I hear a clatter and look down the corridor to see Rebecca limping this way, suitcase in tow.

“Are you OK?” I ask.

She nods but is clearly in pain, “I think so, nasty dog. Bit me in the left calf and sunk it’s teeth right in.”

I can see her trouser leg is wet, presumably with blood. “Can I get you anything?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve already given myself a tetanus shot!” she laughs while indicating her load, “And this lot should keep any nasties away for a while. I’ve got antibiotics, painkillers and various other drugs just in case.”

“At least let me put a bandage on before we leave,” I offer.

“No offence but I’ll do it myself.”

She does.

She does at least allow me to drag the case as well as carry my bag as we return to base. I guess I’ll be driving tomorrow.

Lockdown – Day Eight

Don’t worry! You haven’t missed two days…the characters are in a form of respite though after their last experience…so let’s see what John, Sarah and Rebecca have been up to since Friday!

Please continue to comment with any thoughts or ideas…and thanks to those who already have…good to have you along for the ride!

DAY EIGHT

John

With Sarah still unable to see straight, I worry. The last couple of days have consisted of my largely waiting around for her to recover and for my own swelling to reduce. Rebecca has been very supportive and keen to help us both, scavenging for supplies either medical or grocery in nature. She seems to be able to tap into whatever it is she needs almost at will, like she has her own private supply chain running.

I can’t help but continue to reflect on our ongoing conversations about what has happened while Sarah is recovering. It’s so nice to have some adult company again after the last three months, although I also secretly acknowledge that in many ways young Sarah is coping with all of this much better than I am. I close my eyes while I recall it all.

“What did you do before all of this?” I ask Rebecca.

“I was an ER doctor. How do you think I know where to stab people so they don’t get up?” she smiles.

I nod in thought, “Makes sense. You certainly belie your size at first meeting.”

She smiles, kind of crookedly, “Size sometimes matters, and sometimes it doesn’t.”

It’s funny but even though she doesn’t mean it in a naughty way, those kind of comments don’t feel like they have a place here anymore.

“Do you know what happened from a big picture perspective? Sarah has told me snippets but I guess you’ll be across it all?”

It makes her look sad as she casts her mind back, “It was like a juggernaut. It started in America and the Americans did what they always do, put money before health. They didn’t even try to contain it and let people carry on with their way of life. It was like COVID-19 all over again, if you can remember that?”

I nod at her. I can remember that. The death rate was generally low but some countries dealt with restricting the spread far better than others.

“When the coronavirus hit, people were scared and many died because of slow action, I was just starting out as a medic back then, it was terrifying. But did the world learn from it?”

She shook her head, a tear formed in her right eye. She wiped it away and continued.

“No they didn’t. There was a strategy developed through the United Nations to try to ensure a global response to any future outbreaks but they couldn’t get the major powers to relinquish sovereignty in order to make it work as that would mean an outside ‘army’ would be stepping onto their shores to restrict freedoms, trade and economies. It was a nightmare.

“So surprise, surprise when it happened again. Nobody even gave it a name it was so fast and so severe. Colloquially, we just called it ‘The Beast’, although there were much less polite terms.

“Even the conspiracy theories didn’t have time to get out there but of course there were those who thought it must’ve been an accident in some American lab that got out or that it was Chinese revenge for COVID. Talk about a spectacular backfiring!

“Almost one hundred percent known fatalities. There were rumours of some lucky people recovering but that was all they ever were – rumours. This thing made Ebola look like you’d invite it round to meet your parents.”

She took a breath, clearly trapped in some kind of personal hell right then.

“Viruses don’t discriminate. It must’ve attacked the brain but I was immune for some reason, or maybe just overly careful and lucky. It almost seemed to bypass PPE and nobody knew why. I was working long hours just watching people die one after the other. So much senseless waste. The health services were rendered useless inside a week.”

We both sat quietly for a moment.

“So how many people are left in New Zealand, do you think?”

“I have no idea. Some remote rural communities might’ve stayed clear altogether if they were sensible, but the authorities again didn’t learn and trusted individuals to isolate, and even then the supermarkets were like petri dishes. What a mess!

“I’d estimate far less than one in a hundred survived. If Auckland is anything to go by it might be less than one in a hundred thousand, though I haven’t travelled far enough to form a decent opinion.”

I feel like this is enough talk about bad things for one conversation.

This morning, I’m so desperate to stop dwelling on things and needing to get outside that I insist Rebecca takes me to help her get food. She agrees to do so. I don’t know where we’re going but we pass a Countdown supermarket on the way.

I tap her on the shoulder and point, “Aren’t we going there?”

She shakes her head but looks around and decides she will happily show me what a supermarket looks like in this new world. We stand in the doorway and I feel like it is enough. The windows are smashed but holding firm in their frames.

It’s the antithesis of what I might expect. Pools of water on the floor from the freezers, long-since turned off. The stench of the meagre supplies of fruit and vegetables, rotting near the entrance. A total absence of packaged goods.

“I guess this place was looted?” I ask.

She nods, “The survivors had no choice. Money has no value anymore. Anything worth taking was taken by desperate people looking to hide in their homes for long periods.”

She smiles to herself as she says, “You won’t be surprised to learn that toilet roll flew off the shelves again. People really are idiots. All of this death and nobody thought that the water supply would eventually stop and we’d all need shovels.”

We didn’t tarry long and she took me to the hospital.

“Isn’t this dangerous? I mean, the illness is still here?” I ask, worry etched on my face.

“You’ll be fine, unless I accidentally lock you in the freezer.”

The hospital has a backup generator that is keeping things ticking over. She tells me she has been around switching non-essentials off so that only what she needs is working, but even this is about to stop.

“I think I need to leave this place soon.”

While not packed, the walk-in freezer has some items we take with us, including ice cream! There is also a walk-in fridge but this isn’t quite so good as things are steadily going off. She finds some vegan cheese that looks like it could probably survive a nuclear holocaust, but then with so many dead, it won’t have to any longer. That might be a plus to all of this.

When we get back to the apartment I ask the question, “Do you want to come with us if we leave?”

Her cold eyes reflect for a moment and she asks, “Where are you planning to go?”

“That is a question I don’t know the answer to…yet,” I say, “perhaps you can help us decide?”

Lockdown – Day Five (continued)

Hello Hello!

We left John and Sarah in a bit of a pickle yesterday…so let’s find out where they are at…

Remember to give comments, it’s good to know who is out there having a read.

Thanks and stay safe.

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DAY FIVE  (continued)

John

From up here on the stairs back to the ground floor, I can see the back of a brute of a man, clad in black leather like a biker, holding Sarah off the floor. I try to muster my inner sneak and approach him from behind. I have no idea what I’m going to do when I get there but I doubt a fist-fight will do me any favours.

He starts to club Sarah with a book as she struggles. She soon goes limp.

I’m within five feet. I decide all I can do is bluff.

“Leave her alone!” I command.

His momentary pause clearly shows he thought he was alone and free to do whatever he planned next. He rotates to face me and see who he’s up against. He has greasy, lank wisps of hair on a mostly bald head; tattoos appear to fill up his body as far as his bearded chin. His flies are undone. He sneers at me. We both know his intentions.

I can see he is assessing me. Right now, I’m pointing a rolled up magazine at him threateningly from the inside of my jacket pocket. I hope I look deranged enough.

“Get out of here!” I hiss, pushing my pocket forwards.

“Or else what?” he asks, taking a step towards me.

“Else I shoot you! You filth!”

He laughs with a deep tone, “What is there to live for anyway? Death from the virus would have been a mercy compared to what has followed!”

He charges. I try to dodge him but am too slow. He catches my side and sends me reeling to the floor, colliding painfully with a bookcase. Before I can get up he is straddling me and letting incredible punches go to my head. One, two, I don’t know how long I can withstand it. I don’t want to let Sarah down.

Thankfully I don’t have to withstand it for long. He suddenly goes limp and topples forward onto me. I’m dazed but can still smell his body odour. It’s rank. I need a minute before I try to lever him off.

Someone else saves me the trouble.

I stare upwards into the eyes of a woman. She is wiping a knife on the dead man’s backside. I get the impression she might have done that kind of thing before.

“Pervert!” she hisses, and spits on his corpse.

She holds out a hand to me to help me up. This lady looks weak at first glance, but there is clearly a strong, sinewy kind of strength in her arms as she helps me up.

“Thanks,” I groan, wiping my face with my hand. It hurts like hell and my hand has blood on it.

“You’ll live,” she says matter-of-factly, stowing her blade in a sheath upon her belt. Her clothes are filthy; a cream-coloured vest and grey cargo trousers that look like they would really benefit from a meeting with Persil.

“Let’s get you both out of here before the rest of them come back.” Before I can try to be a gentleman, she has Sarah’s limp form draped over her shoulder while I only have our bags.

We don’t dally on our way back to what I assume is her current base, a second floor apartment a couple of blocks from the library. It’s nice inside, very modern, with lovely views. She probably watched us go into the library and expected trouble.

She lays Sarah on a bed in one of two bedrooms and says to me, “Rebecca”, offering her hand.

“I didn’t think we touch anymore?” I ask, taking it anyway. “I’m John, that’s Sarah.”

“Who cares about touching now? The virus ran its course a while ago.”

“Will she be OK, do you think?”

“I hope so. Hopefully just a short rest required. You can stay here for now.”

“Thanks for your help,” I say, “I thought we were done.”

“I’ve been waiting to get that bastard for weeks!” she has a sad look in her eyes. “I saw him rape and murder on more than one occasion. He waited for any opportunity he could get with girls and women of any age. There’s no justice when people like that survive a plague!”

I decide not to press her too much on things for now. We instead leave the bedroom and close the door.

“Do you have water?” I ask.

“You’re lucky,” she says, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

Sarah

I have a pounding headache, worse than anything I can ever remember. I’m not sure I can see straight either. Where am I? What happened? Who brought me here? I don’t think it’s the library. I move my hands across my body. Where are my clothes? I touch my face and feel like it has ballooned outwards. I must look horrible. I’m on a bed and the room is darkened. It must be dusk outside.

I slowly recall my last thoughts as a hand was roughly across my face and chest. What has he done to me?

“She’s awake,” I hear a woman say. I guess that’s better than a man saying it.

I look at the woman. I guess she is smaller than me but she has a hard face with cold, grey eyes and blonde hair, tied back; she looks like she could hold her own if things got bad. She probably already has done.

“What happened?” I ask, I sound groggy.

“You were hit with a book, you’ve been unconscious for about six hours,” she says candidly with no real emotion. “You’ll be OK.”

“Where’s John? Is he OK?” I ask.

“He looks worse than you but yes, he’s fine. He’s resting too. He tried to save you.”

I smile at her. She smiles back, human after all.

“I had to save him,” she adds.

I laugh and it hurts.

“I’m Rebecca, you’re both staying with me until you’re fit again.”

“Thanks, Rebecca. I’m Sarah.”

She nods, “I know. Now get some rest and we can talk again in the morning.”

She leaves the room with only me and my thoughts left there.

Lockdown – Day Five

It’s the start of day five, readers…hope you’re enjoying so far…don’t forget to comment with any thoughts…

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DAY FIVE

John

It’s nice not to have to have an alarm clock to wake you up. There is something primal about waking up with the sun. It makes you wonder if the human drive towards routine and technology was actually a good thing. Why should we be at work by eight every day? Not that I can talk, I’ve been writing on whatever schedule I like for quite some time now. My routine is largely to start when I’m ready and finish when I run out of ideas for the day. Sometimes I write five hundred words, sometimes three thousand. I’m no longer a writer because there is nobody left to read what I’ve written. I’m now a hunter-gatherer who doesn’t know much about how to do either.

Sarah is already sitting in the lounge when I awake. It startles me into waking up faster than I might have liked because she is staring at me.

“No coffee?” I ask with a yawn.

She doesn’t smile, instead simply pointing at a glass of water and an apple that looks a little past its best. At least fruit is still growing on trees though.

“We need to get you those books from the library because, no offence, but you’re a bit useless without them,” she says seriously, “we’ll need to be careful.”

“OK,” I reply hesitantly. She seems to know something she isn’t telling. “What are you expecting?”

“Big buildings with public access seem to attract groups of people is all. I’d rather avoid them.”

“I’m guessing these groups might not behave well?”

“It’s a fight for survival. Everyone takes what they can get. It’s human behaviour. If you thought panic-buying was bad, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

She stands in a way that says we should get moving. She isn’t overly commanding in stature, she can’t be more than five foot six at full height, but I still take my cue from her movement, drink my water and make use of the bathroom. I wonder how it is that water still runs. Perhaps it will inevitably cease given time. We both take rucksacks in case we happen to find any food on our travels.

Sarah

It’s obvious this man isn’t cut out for this kind of thing. John is clumsy, he bumps into things and he makes unnecessary noise. I might not have been doing this for very long but I think he has a lot to learn.

“You really need to watch where you’re putting your body,” I complain quietly too him.

He looks apologetic and nods so I let it go.

It’s a little cool this morning so we both have jackets on. My entire outfit is black but his jacket is khaki. He looks like he could be a soldier on holiday, if only he could act like it too.

We arrive at the local library after an hour of walking. It’s quiet. The sea isn’t far away and all we can hear are the waves. It isn’t the largest library in the area but hopefully it’ll have something of use. It’s a three storey building, mainly concrete, and the glass doors are wide open. We venture in.

It’s clear that people have been in here. It’s a mess. The periodicals area is strewn with pages which have been torn out. It looks like someone has unsuccessfully tried to start a fire judging by the large pile of slightly singed volumes that sits in a main atrium.

“It’s like Nazi Germany,” John whispers to me before hissing, “Heretics!”

“Let’s get what we need and go, we shouldn’t hang around for too long,” I say.

We separate to speed up the search. He takes the first floor while I stay on the ground. It goes better than I thought it would. I find ‘Fishing for Dummies’ and ‘New Zealand Flora and Fauna: A Guide’, I also notice a magazine on the floor relating to growing your own food. I stuff them in my pack.

There’s a loud bang from somewhere in the building. Probably John knocking over a shelf.

I think we’ve lingered here long enough.

A hand is thrust across my mouth from behind and I’m lifted from the ground in a swift and strong movement. I instinctively struggle but these arms are strong and it seems futile. The one around my body has lots of tattoos on it, including one of a heart with a dagger through it. I look around for anything that might help me, anyone who might help. Where is John?

“Well, well, well,” whispers a man’s voice in my ear, in a lecherous tone. “What have we here?”

I try to say “Get off me!” but all that comes out is muffled nothing.

“You’re young and pretty aren’t you? I rather think you’ll be coming home with me.”

I still haven’t seen his face. I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. I try to bite the hand and he reacts by hitting me in the side of the head with a book. He does this multiple times until I can’t stay conscious any more.

John

Oh Christ! I’ve just seen it unfold. I heard the bang and tried my best to sneak downstairs and now I can see that Sarah is being assailed by a guy who looks like the proverbial brick outhouse. What the hell am I going to do?

Lockdown – Day Four

Hi folks

Here is day four of my story. Hope you enjoy…I wonder if John and Sarah will get on…don’t forget to comment with any thoughts…and feel free to share with any friends or family members in this time of staying indoors…

Thanks for reading!

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DAY FOUR

Sarah

John is waiting for me when I come downstairs in the morning. The sun must have risen hours ago judging by the temperature. I’m not sure if he’s slept much. He has bags under his eyes, maybe he has been crying, and he watches me coming into the comfortable, darkened lounge. It makes me uncomfortable the way that men stare at women, it hasn’t always been this way, only in the last year or two, but even though he doesn’t mean anything by it I still don’t hold his gaze.

“We need to talk,” he says to me calmly.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“You need to tell me a bit more about what happened and we need to decide what’s next.”

The royal ‘we’ got mentioned there, perhaps he thinks he is staying.

“What do you want to know?” I ask.

Pointing towards the rear of the property he asks, “Was my wife already dead when you got here?”

I nod.

“And you just left her there?” he asks, though not in an accusatory manner.

“When you’ve seen as much death as I have, you don’t really have any choice. There are bodies everywhere. I try to avoid them. I figure they might have the virus.”

He doesn’t get aggressive. He just nods. I don’t think he had thought about that. “Good point,” he says.

“Do you know how you catch it from people?” he then asks.

“Nobody ever said. It spread too fast. Maybe I’m just lucky but I don’t want to push my luck.”

“OK. Maybe it is from touch or breathing in or body fluids. I guess it’s sensible to avoid them all just in case.”

I doubt he’s a virologist in his spare time and he’s preaching to the converted here. Maybe he’s just voicing his thoughts. I don’t respond.

“Are you thinking of staying here?” he asks me.

Is he going to ask me to leave? I quite like this little house with electricity but it still won’t last forever. “I don’t think I can. The food in the local area will run out eventually. Then I’ll need to move.”

“Where to?”

“Wherever I can find somewhere else that can support me.”

“How about a base that can support you long term?”

“Like where?” I ask.

“Maybe somewhere with fish? Somewhere crops can be grown?”

“Do you know how to grow crops or go fishing?” I ask.

“Not really. Maybe there are books in the library?” he suggests.

I’m realising that this author is perhaps more lost in his thoughts than in actually being able to live the life he is talking about. “Do you know much about living in the woods? Did you grow crops there?”

He looks a little guilty but still smiles wryly as he says, “Not really. I mostly drank bourbon, ate crap and wrote for three months.”

“Oh.”

He then drops a real bombshell, “Can I come with you?”

How do I feel about having an extra pair of hands who might be useless? Do I want company? I think I feel a little safer with him around just because he’s a man. I wouldn’t say he was very manly though. I look at him properly for the first time. He’s thin. He looks drawn. His hair is long and brown, he has a beard that is trying to catch up in length. I assume he is pretty intelligent given what he does but then this virus has shown that intelligence doesn’t count for much and he might die before I get to know him. I don’t know if I can deal with more loss.

John

I can tell that she is trying to decide if I’m useless. She is doing fine on her own without my help. She must be a very practical person. Maybe she thinks I’m going to drop dead at the drop of a hat too. I’ve done nothing to show I can be trusted yet except sit in the house while she goes out and not do anything to draw attention to us being in here. Her hesitation to reply speaks volumes.

“I can help forage for things, share the workload, I know a few recipes too…my rice krispies in tomato sauce is legendary!” I grin.

She laughs. It’s nice to see her laugh. I can feel us both relaxing. I realise that laughter is something I rarely do when alone, it just isn’t the same as laughing with someone else. It must be part of the human condition, to crave the humour of company. I raise my eyebrows expectantly.

“OK,” she smiles, “but only until you annoy me.”

She appears like a young girl for the first time, albeit one who has seen so much horror.

“Deal, or until I catch the virus and die.” I chuckle a bit and she does too.

I offer my hand but she doesn’t take it, “We don’t do physical contact. Too much risk.”

There goes the levity.

“Shall we go out?” I ask. “I’m starving!”

She nods. It’s time I start to earn my keep.

Only when I venture into my local neighbourhood do I truly realise the dreadfulness of what has occurred. Even with Sarah’s account I didn’t imagine it could be this bad. The smell alone in some houses has me retching. I don’t know how she can put up with it.

“I think I’ve gotten used to it,” she says as if feeling like she needs to explain, “it’s the flies and maggots I hate.”

I’ve seen plenty of those too today. Enough to last me a lifetime I suspect, though I also think this might be repeated often. Progress is slow due to checking for anyone or anything that might get in our way. Food is pretty thin on the ground and we end up trekking across a couple of streets in our search. We manage to find some canned tuna and noodles in a house where she has to go into the kitchen alone due to the dead being in there. At least we can have a meal tonight. It’s plainly obvious that we will need to leave here and fairly soon.

The rest of the day mercifully passes uneventfully. We can enjoy a little peace. She has offered to read to me again so things almost feel a little normal.

Lockdown – Day Three (continued)

Hi Readers (hopefully it is plural!)

Keep sending the comments if you have thoughts on story direction. Hopefully day three has branched things out a little in John’s adventure in a very new world…

Enjoy!

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Sarah

It’s quiet outside. There’s nobody around. I want to go and see if I can find some more food supplies or maybe more books at houses I haven’t been to yet. I can’t decide if having a base is a good thing or not. It’s the only house I found so far that didn’t have dead people residing inside. It has electricity from solar panels too which is a bonus. I guess I will have to move on when food is harder to find. I’m not sure if John is someone I can trust but he is the first person I have spoken to in weeks. For all I know he might drop dead in the time I’m out, it’s that sudden. The virus might still be out there.

My mum died in front of me. One minute she was talking to me while beating eggs for an omelette, the next she was on the floor of her kitchen atop a mess of broken glass and egg having a seizure. The virus took her. I suppose I was lucky it didn’t take me too. It wasn’t quite how I envisaged my fifteenth birthday. My dad died years before, perhaps he would have been immune. My brother was killed in a fight over a packet of flour after things started to settle down into a kill-or-be-killed fight for survival. Just as I was starting to adapt to a life of the two of us, it was just one of us. I feel so alone.

I think I might have lost a little weight already but not much. I catch sight of my face in a window as I approach a house that I know has a big library. I look a little drawn, my dark eyes appear pronounced. Maybe it’s because I didn’t sleep so well after watching John in the dark.

I enter by a back door which I know to be unlocked and find a couple of cans of tomato soup in the pantry. There isn’t much else left. I get two books. I can’t carry any more novels as I hope to fill my rucksack with food elsewhere. I’ve selected ‘East of Eden’ by John Steinbeck as one of them and, appropriately, ‘Guns, Germs and Steel’ by Jared Diamond as the other. They’re both quite thick and have apparently won awards so maybe they will be decent. I leaf through them for a little while and hope they don’t disappoint. Maybe John will let me read his new one if I run out. It sounds like he might need an honest critic.

I decide to check out some new houses next. The first one is locked tight, this could be good as it might mean I am the first person to go in. I knock gently on the door and listen. There are no sounds. I grab a rock from the garden and hammer it hard in the lower corner of the large glass pane to smash it. I wrap my arm in the sleeve of my jumper and push the glass inside, where it shatters loudly. Nothing has responded to the noise. Inside, it’s quiet. A budgie lies dead in its cage, there is no food or water in there so presumably it starved. It makes me sad. The smell in here is revolting. Yet more dead. I can hear flies buzzing, they seem to be the only ones doing really well out of this madness.

Thankfully whatever bodies are in here are not in the kitchen. I breathe a sigh of relief. There isn’t much point checking the fridge because there is no power here but I still open to door because you never know what you might find. The smell of rotting vegetables is pretty nasty so I close it again just as quick. The pantry has a solitary can of rice pudding and some pasta. It’s a bit of a result. There is also an opened packet of Tim Tams. Beggars can’t be choosers and I can’t wait to eat some sweet chocolate!

I smile widely as I stash them in my bag.

The next house is open and there is nothing inside. Maybe someone else has already been here, or maybe the owners were some of the lucky ones to survive and get out of here. Lucky? Hmm. Maybe not. I don’t feel very lucky at all most of the time.

The next house is also open, and has more decomposition to deal with. I find an onion and a potato in a cupboard. It’s a pity I might have to share them. I think it will be starting to get darker soon so maybe I should go back. I pick some plantain and dandelion leaves from the garden here on the way, at least getting greens shouldn’t be an issue. Thank goodness my mum taught me a bit about harvesting weeds when I was little.

I get back to the base and find John sitting in the lounge, looking glum, curtains partially drawn as dusk settles in.

John

I didn’t think Sarah would come back, let alone bring me food. She seems equally surprised to find me still here. I’m ashamed to say to her that I’ve been sitting and staring into space all day. She told me a lot in a very short time. I have no way of verifying anything. The internet isn’t working now. Funny how what we consider essential can change at the drop of a hat. The basics will always be essential. For now at least, there is water, food and shelter, but it seems just a matter of time until these become harder to find.

She proudly displays her finds and offers me a Tim Tam. I politely decline because I can see how hard it is for her to part with such a prize. It was only two days ago that I thought everything was normal. Her face is a picture as she closes her eyes and savours the flavour.

“How old are you?” I ask in the now-growing darkness.

“Fifteen,” she says, eyes still closed.

“Wow,” I reply, “so young to be in this situation.”

She quietly nods and bluntly says, “The virus doesn’t care how old you are. I’ve seen dying babies whose parents are dead right next to them. I didn’t know what to do about them so I had to leave them crying.”

I’ve heard plenty of talk in my life but most people never say anything as disturbing as that.

“I’m sorry,” is all I can think of in response.

“I don’t want your pity,” she states, “I just want your help. If you can help me find food then you’re good to me, otherwise, not so much.”

She seems way older than her years. I don’t reply to her. Words don’t seem enough. I just nod and retire to my private thoughts. Before it gets too dark to read, she gets out her books to show me. She comes alive again.

“I’ve not read them,” I say, “but I’ve heard of them both. Steinbeck is a master. I’d love to be even half as good as him. Would you like me to read to you until it gets too dark?”

She shakes her head, “No, but I will read to you.”

She starts ‘East of Eden’. She reads for maybe half an hour in a lively and accomplished fashion before we call it a night. We secure the doors and I go to the lounge, Sarah to a bedroom. I need to think hard about what I’m going to do tomorrow. I don’t think I can leave this girl to fend for herself, but then she might think I’m going to drag her down. Step up or get out, John, I tell myself. I’m not sure I will sleep much tonight.

Lockdown – Day Three

Hi Readers, hope you are enjoying this developing tale…remember to get in touch with any ideas…here is the first part of day three…who hit John over the head? All will be revealed…

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I slowly open my eyes and look around. It’s dark. I guess I’ve been out cold for at least ten hours. The first thing I notice is the incredible throbbing in the back of my head. It makes me groan. It appears I am still in Sarah’s house. The blackout curtains are now drawn and it’s hard to make out many shapes without a light on. I can tell I’m in an armchair and I move to get up but find myself restrained; judging by the limited reflection I can see from this, I’m guessing I’m strapped to the chair with duct tape, a lot of it.

“Hello,” says a polite voice from the opposite side of the room, presumably on the sofa, “I wondered when you’d come round.”

I’m finding it hard to focus on anything and wondering if I’m concussed, “You really hit me hard.”

“Sorry about that. I couldn’t take any chances. Anyway, technically it wasn’t me who hit you, it was the crowbar.”

I’m not sure what gender the voice is. It could be either. It could be an impression of a voice for all I know.

“What happened to Sarah?” I ask, presuming that this person has killed her.

“If you mean her on the deck, she died…just like everyone else.” The voice seems sad, unthreatening. I detect a slight quavering at the end of the sentence.

“What?” I ask, not entirely sure if I’ve heard right.

“Everyone died. Some kind of virus. It’s been terrible.”

I’m still feeling dizzy, “Can I have some water please? Maybe some ibuprofen?”

“Sure.” The figure arises and goes to the kitchen to find these items and returns after a short time.

“I can’t find any pills. I guess they were all taken as people tried to combat symptoms.”

I guess that included Sarah. She was beyond the help of medication now, that’s for sure. I take a sip of water from the glass which is tipped gently against my lips, at least it rids my mouth of that horrible furry sensation.

“Could you remove this tape please?” I ask hopefully, feeling that this person can’t be all bad.

“Not yet. I don’t know if you might try to kill me.”

This is new. I’ve never thought of myself as having the ability to kill or maim. Things must be really bad for someone to feel like this.

“How about a light on?”

“I can’t right now. Someone might see.” The voice sounds nervous.

I hear them shuffle about on the sofa and presumably lie down because the voice says, “Get some sleep.”

I do.

It is definitely daytime when I’m shaken to wake up. The curtains are being opened. Judging by the heat and the sun, I guess it must be early afternoon already. I’m surprised to see a young girl watching me. She has black hair in a ponytail. Her skin is fair. I guess she is in her early teens, no more than that. She looks at me suspiciously.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

“John. John Bond. What’s yours?”

“Sarah.”

“The same name? That’s spooky.” I try to smile but it seems false. “What’s your surname?”

“Surnames don’t matter anymore. Just call me Sarah.”

“OK, Sarah. Nice to meet you. Could you remove the tape now? I’m not a threat, honestly,” I ask hopefully.

“You might be and might not even know it,” she replies sternly. “There’s only so much food left and you might have the virus.”

“Tell me about this virus, I don’t know anything about it.”

“Why? Have you been living under a rock for ages?” she asks with a sarcastic smirk.

I smile at the closeness of her guess, “I’ve been in the woods. I’m a writer. I’ve been finishing a book for three months…and escaping the end of my marriage, as it happens.”

She processes what I’ve said for a few moments with a slight frown and then says, “You might wish you’d stayed there.”

“What happened?” I ask.

“It was awful. It started in America and spread to every country in the world within two weeks. People died within two days of catching whatever it is. They didn’t even get a chance to name it, it was so fast. Hardly anyone survived. Before my mum died she said the Asian countries seemed to be handling it best but they were still dropping like flies. There’s hardly anyone left, and they are nasty.” Just the mention of her mum makes a tear well up in her eye.

“You survived. Maybe other people did too? I saw some trucks on the road when I drove back here.”

“Maybe. You might still get it.”

That sobers me up. If Sarah-on-the-deck was anything to go by, I didn’t fancy that kind of death.

“What’s it about?” she asks. “Your book.”

“Someone who lives in the woods. Their life of solitude.”

“Sounds a bit boring. Is it any good?”

Kids often find it hard not to be blunt, I laugh a little as I reply, “Probably not. I was quite drunk when I wrote it if I’m honest.”

She laughs too, “I like to read. I’ve read most of the ones I could find here already.”

I rack my brain for a moment trying to recall what books reside here but I’m not sure so I ask, “Who is your favourite author?”

“I really like C.S. Lewis,” she says confidently, “and Roald Dahl when I was younger.”

“Good choices,” I say, “I love them too. Maybe we can find you some others.”

She doesn’t reply to that and continues to stare at me for a little while. I try not to hold her gaze too much in case she thinks I’m being aggressive. She seems to decide she needs to do something and stands up.

“I’m going out,” she remarks.

“Any chance I could use the toilet?” I ask hopefully.

Judging by the look on her face, she hadn’t considered this situation.

“I’d rather you didn’t have to help me,” I say with a genuine expression.

She goes into the kitchen again and this time returns with a pair of scissors, cutting the tape free of the chair.

“Should I come with you?”

“You’d only slow me down, you can stay here,” she says confidently. Moving to the front door, slowly opening it and peering outside before leaving.

I’m at a loss about what to do with myself. I feel strangely responsible for this girl even though she seems to be doing fine on her own. I guess I can try to fix up my head and have something to eat while she is gone. Other than that, I’ll maybe just rest, maybe read one of Sarah’s books myself. Maybe I’ll take a nap.

Lockdown – Day Two

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Hi Folks

Here comes day two of the evolving story, one comment from yesterday who has directed the tale a little. If you have any thoughts then do please get involved…

I may have the weekend off (can you blame me?) so let’s see what happens to John next…stay safe!

DAY TWO

I wake up quite late. I must’ve been more tired than I thought. I feel a bit weird after not having drunk any alcohol yesterday. I stretch in the back seat of the car, trying to get the kinks out of my body, caused by such an uncomfortable bed. The smell of the rubbish I brought back is starting to pervade the car interior a little too much. I get out and head around to the boot to grab the offending items and I take it to Sarah’s bin. Her bin is actually pretty full and it really smells. I have to cram my waste into it and force the lid down as best I can.

Only then when I stop does it occur to me that I haven’t heard any cars. I can hear the wind rustling the trees. Birds are singing merrily to each other from somewhere up there. The unmistakeable sound of the Tui singing its multi-faceted song lifts the spirits for a moment. Next door’s cat, Archie, a black tom with a real talent for avoiding people, darts from under the house and makes a beeline for under the car that is parked on his owner’s driveway. He makes me jump with the unexpectedness of his movement. He glares at me for having the temerity to be present in his world right now. He looks a little leaner than when I last saw him.

The street is deserted. It’s starting to feel a little disturbing. I take a deep breath and go to the front door of what was my house. I still have a key and, as a partial owner, I could rightfully unlock it and go in but I’m not sure I want to give Sarah more reasons to hate me than she already has. I admit it, I had an affair. I’m not proud of myself. I think perhaps on some level that my marriage was already over before I started going down this new path. Her name was Lisa. She was also married. There were no strings attached. It just kind of happened when we bumped into each other one morning, had coffee and one thing led to another. She knew Sarah. It was new, it was dangerous, it was exciting. And then it was also over. Her own guilt ended it. She told Sarah to make herself feel better. I’m not sure what she expected would happen but she lost a friend and a lover. I lost the dregs of my marriage.

I knock on the door. It goes unanswered. I knock again. After several minutes I decide that perhaps I should try my key. The door opens with a slight creak. I leave it ajar in case she chases me out of the house with a knife. You think I jest? That’s what she threatened me with after Lisa told her.

“Hello?” I ask as I enter. “Sarah? Are you home?”

Nothing. For the first time I check my phone. I never get that many messages anyway but I haven’t even had an email for a month now, except for automated marketing messages.

I need the toilet so I may as well go and use it. I could also do with a change of clothes. My khaki t-shirt and black jeans are not as clean as they could be. I could really use a change of pants and socks too, although at least they are made of merino wool so smells take a long time to fester. At least they are still in the wardrobe.

I’m sitting on the toilet, mainly so there is no risk of missing the bowl, when I hear a noise. It’s not a loud noise, more the sort of noise made by someone trying not to make a noise. Just a creak on the stairs. I quickly pull my clean blue jeans up and buckle the belt. I steal a peek around the edge of the door but can see nothing. I can’t hear anything now either so perhaps I was imagining it.

I flush the toilet and wash my hands.

Maybe I can find some food in the kitchen. I’ve just realised I missed breakfast.

The kitchen is rather well stocked. I pour a bowl of Sultana Bran and get the milk from the fridge, I pour the milk but it’s lumpy. It’s off. Yuck! There’s half a loaf of bread on top of the microwave but it’s clearly mouldy. Not like Sarah to leave things lying around. I manage to find some bread in the freezer and make some toast. I take it to the lounge. The door is shut tight. I forgot it sticks. When I open it and move inside with a mouthful of jammy bread, something catches my eye on the decking just outside the glass door. It’s Sarah. Not like I’ve seen her before. This time she is sprawled out on the deck. She stares at me without any eyes. They are gone. It looks like some other animals have been enjoying a feast also because maggots are crawling out of her facial orifices. I’m not proud but am sick where I stand.

She is clearly dead. There seems little point in going out there to endure the smell of decay. I’m not sure if I prefer this last image of her or the one of her brandishing a knife at me. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and quickly return to the kitchen for some water, staring out of the window after I’ve thrown it on my face.

It’s only then that I remember the noise and that I left the front door open. But then I’m hit with some force across the back of my head and am out cold before I hit the floor.