once been used as an exercise room, based on the equipment drowning amidst the clutter.
At the bottom of the steps, I flicked on the overhead lights that did little to dispel the long shadows cast by the stacks of boxes and totes. I went to the nearest box and lifted the flap. A picture, carefully cushioned by newspaper, lay on top. A family of four posed against a green backdrop of trees, the parents standing behind the children. I studied the happy boy and girl, barely into their teens, and took a bigger drink.
As much as I wanted to believe the family had made it to somewhere safe, I knew better. There wasn’t anywhere safe, and families didn’t survive. At least, not intact.
The light from the nearest basement window dimmed for a brief moment. Fear and resignation kept me from looking up. Instead, I took another long drink and continued to gaze at the happy family that reminded me so much of mine.
The light grew brighter. Hand trembling, I put the picture back in the box and glared at the leather-clad legs as they vanished from sight.
I hated the way the fey moved around aimlessly just like the infected. Just like my family. My sister.
My bitter thoughts weighed on me so much that just breathing became hard. I hated this world. It offered only anger and fear to those who still survived. With the constant presence of those two emotions, I felt like I was always two seconds from drowning.
I took a bigger drink and thought again how this wasn’t living. It was a suspended state of death. There was no blissful peace, just never-ending time to contemplate how I would meet my end.
Back upstairs, instead of going for the cake mix, I went for a refill.
“You’re never going to believe what I heard,” Emily called the moment she opened the door.
I didn’t bother sitting up. It was too much work.
“What?” I asked. Had that come out a little too slow and relaxed?
“The plane that’s been going out to look for Molev spotted some survivors. Can you believe that? It’s not just us and the Whiteman folks anymore.”
A fear settled in my chest, and I forced myself to sit up and look at her.
“What do you mean?”
“There’s a bunch of them. The pilot wasn’t able to count accurately, but at least a dozen people came out to wave when the plane flew overhead.”
She was excited about a dozen waving humans? I lay back down on the couch and closed my eyes against the spinning and the subtle heartache. A dozen more survivors wouldn’t do shit. They weren’t some miracle find but fate throwing the dregs together to make the slaughter more convenient for the infected.
Emily babbled on, relating all the juicy details from her amazing visit to ward number two. I made non-committal noises whenever she paused. Prodded by what she perceived as interest, she continued her gossip, barely noticing me.
When she finally headed to the kitchen to put something together for dinner, I mumbled an excuse about a long day of cleaning and turned in early. I wasn’t even sure what time it was when I fell into the bed and pulled out my bottle. I didn’t care about conserving as I took a long pull; I only cared about my unacceptable state of consciousness.
It was dark when I jerked awake.
Heart pounding, but not sure why, I sat up in bed and looked around the room. There was nothing there. Yet, the panicked feeling continued to grow.
Taking my bottle, I went into the bathroom and sat in the dry shower, hugging my knees. I thought of my family, of my sister, and the fear continued to swell. I did the only thing I could to stop it and took a drink. Then, another. My throat burned when the next one went down the wrong way. I coughed and went back for more.
At some point, the alcohol did its job, and with the cold tile of the bathroom cradling me, I returned to the peace of oblivion.
A knock at the bathroom door startled me awake.
“Hannah?” Emily called.
“Yeah,” I croaked.
“Are you okay?”
For a bleary moment, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know where I was or who was at the door. Unfolding from my huddled position, I winced at the stiffness in my back and the numbness of my ass. Pieces clicked into place. Mostly that it was Emily outside the bathroom door, trying to mother me again.