Kate
Being humansucks.
And I’ve started to wonder if we’re the only humans left here.
The thought sucks too, but it’s a real one, a heavy one. It’s not just my wild imagination either, not just sillyfear. This is real. And it seriously sucks.
I breathe into my cupped hands for warmth and try to stop the terrifying thoughts. I’m tougher than my fear, I tell myself againand again—I have to be—for the others.
A cold breeze drifts through the window. It’s just before dusk and we’re dressing to leave. I push aside the curtains to storm clouds hanging low. The air smells like it’s just about to rain.The last thing I need is for us to get caught in a downpour. What’s worse is it might be cold enough to snow.
I ball up all my hair under a tight cap, pin it down, and tug on my father’s old military vest. It’s cumbersome and threadbare—something I would have never worn before all this—but it hides his old knife and the only flashlight we have left. His holster stays empty, though.He doesn’t remember where his gun went. We’re lucky each day that he remembers to wear pants. I glance quickly in his direction and give him a once-over. He’s staring at the wall and his hands are stuffed deeply into a thick jacket that’s a few sizes too big on him. He’s humming some strange melody and rocking back on his heels as if he’s waiting on a bus. Maybe that’s just what’s going on in his head, he’s just waiting for a bus to get him out of here.There are no more buses, Dad, there’s no more anything.
His head tilts to the side and I catch of gleam of something sparkling from his ear. He must have gotten into my mother’s jewelry box. I guess I didn’t hide it well enough. I’m not surprised, he has a knack for getting into the strangest things. I zip up the vest and don’t mention the earring, afraid it might upset him, and we really need to go out, just for a few blocks to see if we can find help.
“Come on,” I say, waving to him and Claire. “Let’s go before it gets dark.”
Claire coughs out a raspy breath in agreement. I wonder how far she’ll be able to walk. I know at some point I’ll be half carrying her on my back and half dragging her along the street, but I hope it’s not for a while.
My sister likes to pretend she isn’t sick. She still smiles and tries to make her funny faces that always used to make me laugh, but I can practically see through her skin. She’s all bones and blue flesh. She’s picking at her face, scratching sores into her skin, and refusing to eat what little food we have left. The bottle of her meds that my mother used to force her to take sits empty on the windowsill collecting dust. Whatever is going on inside her is destroying her from within, and I can’t do a damn thing to stop it.
I hold her hand as we make our way through the darkened hallways into the lobby of the building. Deep cracks streak down the walls and drywall dust swirls up to our knees as our feet shuffle through. When we reach the front doors, she’s already out of breath and gasping for air.
“Are you up for this? I could just…” I trail off, because there’s nothing Icoulddo but what we’re already doing. “Just let me know when you need to rest, okay?” I say, brushing a sweaty strand of dark hair off her forehead.
All she can muster is a tight, pained smile. Her eyes never meet mine.
I nod once at her and quickly turn my gaze away. I can hardly bear to look at the swollen skin bunching around her once-beautiful blue eyes, or the way her translucent skin no longer hides the millions of tiny red capillaries that pulse just underneath. What she thinks looking at my healthy face, once almost a mirror image of hers, I can’t imagine. A shiver rattles through my shoulders as the phantom pain of what she must be feeling seeps into my mind. I continue staring ahead, biting down on my lip so I don’t cry out in hopelessness. I squeeze her bony hand gently and pull her toward the exit.
Our father is a few paces behind us, his feet shuffling slowly. “Did you take the foil?” he asks in a low voice.
My forehead breaks out in a cold sweat and my stomach does a strange sort of twist. “Dad, we talked about this, remember? We need to go and find some more.” I sigh heavily, holding back my scream. I feel selfish for wanting to yell at him, for wishing my life was easier. It’s not his fault. None of this is his fault. But sometimes I think about how all of this would be easier if it were just me I had to take care of. I hate myself for the thought.
Dad nervously grabs at the tin foil he’s already wrapped around his arms and upper thighs. “But the foil is what’ll keep ussafe.”
“I know, and that’s why we’re going to go find more. Now listen,” I say as I cup my hands against the filthy glass door to look outside, “you need to try to stay with us this time, okay?” I wish I could find a dog leash for him, a short one, because that would be exactly what I’d be using to keep him safe instead of the stupid foil.
He grunts behind me.
On the other side of the door the streets are empty and overgrown with thick, dark weeds that grow over the crumbling cement and debris. Just beyond the buildings, the sun is sinking through the clouds, under the horizon, splashing crimson across the sky. A roll of thunder rumbles in the distance.
My father leans his forehead against the glass and hums another unfamiliar tune. When he pulls away there’s a black smudge of dirt across his forehead.
“No people?” Claire whispers next to me. “Where’s the people?” she repeats scratching thoughtlessly at her face.
“I’ve never seen anyone out past dusk. People are too scared,” I say the lie softly because I don’t really believe it.Ifthereisanyone left, I’m sure they’re too afraid of the dark now. Anyone left now would definitely fear the night and the creatures it brings. But we can’t be afraid right now. We can’t stay inside the apartment any longer. There’s no more food. And Claire needs help.Weneed help. Claire coughs again, building into a fit of flailing hands and deep congestive hacks. She gags and dry heaves at the floor while I rub soft circles on her back. We stay this way until she’s able to stand upright again. It takes a while, though.
When she nods she’s ready, I pull the door open and a stale-smelling wind whips up past us. It’s the kind that reeks of rot and decay. Everything here is drying, crumbling. The once-great mountains of concrete and steel turned to dust; a city’s bones turning brittle.
“Okay. We could do this, okay? We got this. We’re going to be fine,” I say. The three of us clasp one another’s hands and one by one, we walk out onto the quickly corroding sidewalk.
