May 22, 2019 - O2 Remaining: 109 Hours / 4.54 Days - 3:02 AM
Eury Morrissey
Two hours later, my eyes were still wide open while Kelly tossed and turned restlessly with his back against mine before finally rolling over onto his stomach, leaving me both cold and awake. Part of my mind told me to get back closer to him—he was so warm after all—but at the same time, the exhausted part of my mind saw this as the opportunity that it was.
As quietly as I could, I stood up, slipped on my O2 tank, and collected the flashlight and my fire poker. I slinked out of the office, only turning the flashlight on after I lightly closed the door. I couldn’t help but be nervous as I walked to the only other door in the back room. I liked to think it was the lack of sleep.
I closed the bathroom door with the same, if not more, care than the door to the office. I did my business as fast as my sympathetic system allowed, only taking a long moment to double-check the seams of the door before flushing.
After washing my hands in the sputtering sink—which I took as a bad sign—I checked my O2 tank under the flashlight. I was already three-quarters of the way through this one.
That left me with two choices: grab the concentrator Kelly had brought with him into the office; the easy, but dumb decision, or go and get the cart from the storefront; the hard and still dumb decision. The concentrator was enticing—plus it meant I could go back to sleep faster—but it would mean using up the very limited battery supply. But if I grabbed the cart, it would be dangerous if I made any noise. I could always ask Kelly to help me out. But, it did take him quite a long time to get to sleep, so that was not a great choice either.
It only took me a moment to decide on the cart. It was right in front of the door, and it had been hours since all that craziness outside. Plus, if things went south like the magnetic poles suddenly got turned on its head, I still had the handgun. But I wouldn’t let it get that far though. If things did get out of hand, I’d close the door and get Kelly before I started fancying myself a cowboy. The one-lunged gunslinger of Sheridan just didn’t have a ring to it. Regardless of everything else and of what happened before, he and I both proved ourselves more than willing, and more than capable to do what needed to be done.
And just what does that say about you?
Carefully, I opened the door to the storeroom. Flashlight off. The majority of the shop was dark, even in spite of the moonlight. Instinctively, I looked to the window and the street beyond. Seeing that none of them were walking around gave me a little more confidence.
I stuffed a baby-shoe from a nearby rack under the door, then, carefully guided the cart in. Surprisingly, it was easier than I anticipated. But it was while I slowly closed the door behind me when something caught my eye.
Inside the backroom, I quickly changed tanks and attached the almost empty one to the LOX. Returning my bag to my back, my tired feet were guided back out to the storefront.
Just beyond the window, I saw them. Two to be precise, a man with a woman in his arms, laying on the uncomfortably thin grassy planter. It couldn’t have been comfortable, yet they were there. Their faces tear-stained and bruised. I took another step towards the window. Too close, some portion of my mind told me but I disregarded it. The woman’s hair was broken and wild, some portions shortened down to the scalp while others were long enough to reach her shoulders.
Why?
The woman curled further into the man’s arms. Shivering. Of course, she was. It was so cold, my breath turned to vapour. There was nothing particularly noteworthy about the shivering. It was just an autonomic response, after all. Like how a person breathed without conscious input. Rather, it was the way that she was held, cradled in the man’s arms.
I took another step. Close enough to the storefront that I could see my transparent reflection.
The man’s arms were bloated, purple and black like he had been beaten. His body ravaged by the sickness.
If they bruised, then their blood was still pumping. Heart beating. And even though they didn’t look like it, it meant they were still alive, beholden to their human physiology like the rest of us. Just like me.
It was ironic. My wish finally came true in a way. Now everyone knew what it was like to be sick. I won’t be the center of attention when I walk down the street anymore. At least, not for my cannula, anyway.
My breath fogged up the glass. I didn’t know why I got so close. Curiosity? Sure. But when I saw their forms intertwined, I couldn’t help but cry. Then, as quickly as the tears came, the world began to spin. Without even thinking, my hand reached out to the window to support myself.
A bass sound boomed out from the glass. I quickly pulled my hand away, standing still. My world was still spinning, but the sudden reaction from the pair of them oriented my focus instantly. Suddenly, the woman’s eyes were open, looking in my direction. Even though I was standing exposed in the moonlight, it was like she couldn’t see me. When she twisted her head farther than naturally, I saw why. Her eyes were milky clouds of white streaked with shocks of red. The white moonlight orbs looked more like polished stones than anything else.
I slowly stepped back into the shop, slipping back into the dark, as the man stirred under her. The pair of them uncurled from one another. Then, slowly stood. Step by step I disappeared further into the shop, never prying my eyes off of them. The two spread out, skulking around the sidewalk in front of the store, hunting for me.
Holy shit.
They really couldn’t see.
In the back office, I laid back down, going over everything I learned from that little incident. Firstly, they were sick. Still normal people, in a way. Secondly, if they were just sick and this wasn’t some sort of undead curse or something more insane, it meant they probably needed to adhere to human biology. And thirdly, the realization that put the smile on my face, assuming the two observations were correct, they still needed food, water and air.
Twenty-one days without food.
No way you’ll make it that long.
A few minutes without air.
Something you’re more than familiar with right?
But, at most, one week without water.
They had an expiration date, and sure it was a lot longer than mine, but I was smart enough to make it.
My mind raced with excitement.
One week. That was it. I just needed to make it for that long until all of this would blow over.
One week.
But...
But, I couldn’t exactly be sure of that. With around four days of O2 left, I needed to know that I’d make it. So, I turned my O2 down to sixty-percent before I rolled over, looking at the slow rise and fall of Kelly’s chest. Just one week, and then, maybe all of this would be back to normal. I couldn’t help but wonder what will happen then?
May 22, 2019 - O2 Remaining: 109 Hours / 4.54 Days - 3:20 AM
May 22, 2019 - O2 Remaining: 98.8 Hours / 4.11 Days - 8:30 PM
Kelly led the way out of the shop. Even with their expiration date, there was no way that we could stay there, no matter how safe and cozy it was. My dad was still coming into town any day now, and Alaska was still out there somewhere.
I tried telling Kelly why I had to keep my O2 low, however, he was not having it.
“I’m sorry, what the hell are you talking about?” He asked, following my explanation.
I could understand him being upset. From his perspective, we had agreed to keep my O2 high, but I decided to turn my O2 down to 60% last night. I awoke to my air pressure spiking with O2 forced into my nose like I stuck my head out of a moving vehicle. “I don’t care what you think is going to happen. Can you guarantee me they’ll be gone in a week?” He did have me there and knew it even before he asked me.
“No, I—”
“Then we aren’t risking it!” And that was the end of it.
I can’t say I enjoyed being bossed around by him, but the look in his eye told me it wasn’t the time to fight him on it. After last night, I could finally see the hint of fragility that lingered just inside him. It wasn’t that I couldn’t do what needed to be done, I just didn’t need to tell him what I was doing. That was why I turned my O2 down to 80% as we left the store.
As we retraced our steps down back toward Bridge street, another thought popped into my head. Curlers. They were still people, no matter how crazy and diseased. I liked to think what I did to Curlers was a mercy.
Mercy? You stabbed her, then bashed her brains in! Can’t wash the blood off that easily, Mrs. Macbeth.
She was sick. In pain. So… So, of course, I did what I did.
Murderer.
No, it wasn’t like that it was—
Liar.
There was no winning against myself. The house always won.
I followed behind Kelly, silently. Closer to the bridge, his hand quickly raised, pointing at the bridge. Then, continuing on, he dropped his hand down to his sword handle a few moments later.
I looked over to where he had pointed. In the center of the bridge where the van had sat. It was still there, but now, on its side.
And that would explain the crashing glass I heard last night.
What about that kid you almost murdered?
Several feet from the overturned van and the bodies of the two men who attacked us, there was a shattered pile of... something. From the hard breaks, rounded corners, maybe it was the car seat. But, besides that, even further from the van, was something small. It couldn’t have been much wider than a foot or two. It was still. Just, motionless.
I stared as long as I could. I knew that I had a responsibility. This was what I needed to do. I needed to know. I needed to understand. I needed to see, and I let the images burn themselves into my mind, so they would never be forgotten.
I followed Kelly’s steps. Matching his pace and speed. Staying low when he went low. I turned my brain off. Let him lead the way. There was no other option.
May 22, 2019 - O2 Remaining: 97.8 Hours / 4.08 Days - 9:46 PM
