Chapter Eight
Lying down in my bed, I pretend I'm sleeping. I invent dreams for me to dream. In one, I'm an adventurer exploring a world of fantasy, discovering strange, wonderful, terrible creatures and places. In my travels I find an ancient castle carved into the side of a snow-topped mountain. It is deserted, no sign of life in it for at least centuries, so I and the band of explorers that I set out with settle in it, and eventually turn it into a thriving community. In another dream I'm an astronaut of the future, making first contact with an alien species. They have traversed the galaxy for ages, and just now came across our solar system in our local star cluster, which they call "jʃɛɹʌs dʒʊð", or "the purple ribbon". They are friendly, and gift humanity with the secrets of faster-than-lightspeed travel, with which we use to escape to the rest of the galaxy, where a whole host of alien lifeforms have created a vast network of civilizations. In a last dream, it is simply an ordinary day; I'm back in school, as I was just a couple weeks ago. There isn't a thought of danger in my mind aside from looking both ways before I cross the street. I like that dream the most. I wonder to myself if I'll ever be able to continue my studies in Arabic, or how that discussion of Ursula K. Le Guin in Humanities class would have ended up. Humanity… yeah, there's something I miss.
I wouldn't have thought to get up out of bed, but a guideless string of thoughts led me to think of Hayao Miyazaki's The Castle of Cagliostro, and now I find myself incredibly annoyed that I can't remember the name of the villain. Count… something or other? I lift myself up and lurch to the living room, where my giant shelf of movies has sat for years. Pulling the VHS out extremely carefully so as not to damage it, I peer over the old cardboard case. Nowhere does it say the guy's name. I curse, and set the video back in its spot. I want to watch the movie. Cinema has been always been my largest hobby and pastime, and rewatching old movies, where I already knew everything that was going to happen, never failed to instill a sort of reliable calm in me. Miyazaki flicks especially are extra soothing to watch. Ah! - Why couldn't I have chosen a hobby that doesn't require electricity? A lover of books or comics would have been gifted a silence to read, if extremely eerie. I on the other hand, continually find myself perturbed by the quietness of it all. I think I miss the white noise of society.
I make my way to the basement. Without power it is dark down here, even in the middle of the afternoon, but that's not a problem for me. What is however, is that without power the groundwater will eventually seep its way into the basement and flood it. I'm amazed it hasn't already, to be honest. The carpet laid out along portions of the floor isn't damp. I suppose that brief storm the night I spent at Carmichael's wasn't enough. Eventually one will come along though that will be, so I spend the rest of the day moving things out of the basement that I deem should be saved. My mother held a large collection of old books from her younger years. I haven't given up hope that she might still be alive. I don't think I ever will. The only relatives who have died in my lifetime were grandparents whom I barely knew; the thought of someone as close to me as my mother, or the anyone in my immediate family, dying is still so alien an idea to me that my mind can't grasp it, despite already being forced to deal with so many things I thought paramount to my life being stolen away from me by this viral armageddon. I can say all I want, out loud or in my head: "They could be gone forever!", but I still refuse to believe it.
I spend a good deal of time sifting through the corner of the basement no one ever went to. Dozens of boxes holding an endless array of knick-knacks, photos, mementos, and who-knows-what litter the area, along with old, dusty, forgotten furniture that belongs to a time before I existed. I move select items from this ancient treasure trove upstairs, and set them in my mother's room, along with her books. There isn't much room to walk in there anymore. I walk back downstairs and begin to unplug the big HDTV and the game consoles hooked up to it. When it comes to video games, I don't play them often, but what I do play generally stays on Nintendo's side of the fence. There's a Wii and an N64 plugged up to the TV. A Super Nintendo is hiding in a cabinet. Even if all this stuff is useless to me now, I make sure they all are brought upstairs, because… well, who knows? I suppose it's the Generation X in me at work still, unable to let all this technology be destroyed for no reason. The upstairs is now rather messy. I fall into the sofa.
So…what do I do now? I ask myself. It's a strange feeling – to have nothing planned in the future, other than "Survive." I guess… I'll simply let myself wander around the house. Do whatever I feel like. I lie in the empty bathtub. I try and remember kung-fu lessons from eighth grade. I take any bad food in the fridge and throw it out the window. I power up my laptop one last time in order to move everything important off of it onto a flash drive. I try to eat again, to find only the sugary stuff has any flavor in it. I act out scenes from Clue. I practice using my hands without destroying things. I read Romeo and Juliet (up until Mercutio dies, because he was totally the best character). However, I don't take even one step outside of the house.
This goes on for three days. On the third, while I am laying down on top of the refrigerator, singing "Yakko's World", I am interrupted. Immediately following Bangladesh is the sound of a gunshot, far in the distance. The sound does not cease; it is automatic, and there are multiple weapons being shot. Startled, I fall off the fridge. I hit my hip on the way down. Rubbing it with my wrist, I rush to every window in the house, trying to spot where this noise is coming from. It's outside! Just go outside and look! Wait… no no no that's a bad idea. Shouldn't go outside. What if they see me? They'll shoot me!
The firing stops for a minute or two, then resumes, louder. Shit! They are getting closer! This is not good… this is NOT good. It's coming from the side of the house the kitchen is at. I crouch low to the ground and sneak to the window. The firing stops, then continues again. It is extremely loud. I peek through the blinds at the house next to ours. In the windows of the brick house violent flashes of light glares, accompanying the gunfire. I tear away from the window in fright. There they are! Get them! Go after them! No, no! What am I thinking? I can't! You can! GO! I can't! I'll be killed! A family from Kuwait lived in that house. I never did remember their names. The babbles of dying infected directly following the gunshots must be them, being shot to pieces.
The shots cease.
They are coming here next.
My heart skips several beats. I panic, and run to my room. It's too late to try and flee. They'll see me, and they'll kill me, whoever they are. It's dark outside. Through my bedroom window, I can see a flashlight illuminating the outside. A shadow of a person passes by. I almost scream. Thank god I didn't, and that I kept the curtains closed, or I'd be dead. My mind scrambles, and I do the most logical thing I can think of at the time: I hide under my bed. I crawl to the end tucked into the corner of the room, completely oblivious to the mass of spider webs I plunged my face into. Normally I'd be scared stiff of spiders, but a much greater fear has me commanded.
I hear the front door open. They are here!
"Damn, this place is a mess." A pause. "Seems clean, though. Ironic."
A different voice. "Search it, still." Attack them, before they attack you!
Heavy footsteps. First over carpet, then the creaking of wood. They are in the hallway. I summon every energy in me to still my body. Doors open. Hurry!
"Helloooo?" The first voice says. "Hah! Why can't they all be this easy?
A third voice. "Looks like they was getting ready to move. Or evacuate. Or something."
They open the door to my bedroom. Now! Now! Get up!
"That explains why there's no one here." Two footsteps. Creak... Creak…"Hello… wait, what's this?"
He sees me. I stop breathing. Oh god oh god oh god I'm dead I'm so dead!
"What?"
"Infected under the bed here. Girl."
I can feel the warmth from the recently fired rifle dancing on my back. The metal is only inches away from my bare skin.
"If she's not moving trying to kill you, she's dead."
Yes, yes! I'm dead! Leave me be! This is too much!
"Don't see no blood, though. Weird. Oh, well. You're right."
I feel like I'm fainting…
I see.