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!
[image error]Photo by Ylanite Koppens on Pexels.com
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.
