One of my earliest memories is of getting bitten on the toe by an ant. Strange but true. Mom was busy gardening in the backyard, but she gave that ant a good scolding, making me laugh. And I remember my dad coming home from a business trip one time with a huge smile on his face. He’d brought me this stuffed toy from Alaska. It was a seal, and we named it Roger for some reason. Most of the childhood memories of my brother involve us fighting. We outgrew it eventually and get along well now.
I thought there’d be time for more moments. Chances to make memories. No doubt everyone feels that way. But oneday your time is up and there’s nothing you can do. There’s no bartering or arguing or holding back death.
My friend Thu was getting married in June. And another friend, Sage, was expecting their first child in August. I’d been saving up for a summer holiday. Though I hadn’t gotten around to deciding where. There were so many things I was going to do someday.
Which is when I smell it…there’s smoke in the air.
“It’s a house down the block,” says Dean, as soon as he sees me. The worried expression on my face is apparently obvious.
“Is the fire department there?” I ask. “I didn’t hear any sirens.”
“No. There’s no sign of them. Just some people working with hoses to put it out.”
“Are you going to help?”
“I don’t know if they’re coughing from the virus or smoke inhalation. But we can’t risk exposure,” he says matter-of-factly. “We had a good amount of rain earlier in the week and the wind is in our favor for now. Let’s just wait and see what happens.”
Stacked storage boxes sit at the back of the room. This is the first time he’s shown any interest in them. He takes down the top one and pops the lid. Out comes a backpack, which he sets down in front of the cage. This is exactly what I need. A distraction so I can pretend everything isn’t going to hell.
“This one’s yours,” he says, undoing the zips.
“Nice color.”
“You wear a lot of blue.” He shrugs. And it can be nice to be noticed, but not so much when it comes with a side of stalker. But here we are. “I was hoping we’d have more time to talk.”
“More time for you to convince me to be your apocalypse wife?”
He proceeds to set the items from inside the backpack into neat rows on the ground. “It’s important you know what youhave in your pack. N95 face masks, hand sanitizer, toilet paper, menstrual products, wet wipes, toothbrush and toothpaste, soap and a towel, hairbrush and hairbands, deodorant, lip balm—”
“Is it flavored?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“A basic first-aid kit including ibuprofen and a few other over-the-counter medications, rain poncho, an emergency Mylar blanket, spare pair of wool socks, a hoodie in case you get cold, a bottle of water and a water bottle with a filter built into it, a few granola bars, some packets of trail mix, flashlight, emergency light sticks, matches, a lighter—you can use a tampon for tinder to start a fire if necessary—a walkie-talkie already set to the same channel as mine in case we get separated, extra batteries for the flashlight and walkie-talkie, and this—”
“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
“Not really. Standard bug-out bag. There’s also this…” What he pulls out of the backpack looks like if a hatchet, a hammer, and a pry bar had a baby. And that child chose to be shiny and sleek. “This multitool is what you use to gain access to any locked home or building for shelter or supplies. But remember, we don’t know who’s out there or how dangerous they might be.”
“Yeah. They could be the kind of person who kidnaps you and sticks you in a cage.”
“Or they could be a whole lot fucking worse. How many people are going to keep being polite once laws go by the wayside?”
“Joke’s on you, because the bulk of them weren’t polite in the first place.” I hold out my hand through the bars. “Can I see that?”
“No,” he says.
“Why can’t I have a look at it?”
“Because it would be incredibly sad if you killed me accidentally or otherwise.”
I sigh. “Would it, though? Would it really?”
“Think about the situation we’re in. No one official has come to deal with that fire. Whoever’s left is either too sick or doesn’t care. What do you think the chances are the cops are doing any better? It’s going to be dangerous. You need to take this seriously.”
I say nothing. There’s nothing to say.
