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?
