Fortitude: Supply and Demand

by Lauren Beltz

on the first floor unless he lowered himself with it. The lens of the scope gave him an idea for an alternative direction.

  Gently placing the scope next to the duffel bag on the bed, he moved into the bathroom. Laughing at the thought of the superstition he was about to invoke upon himself, he wrapped a hand towel around his fist. As he punched the mirror, it shattered into dozens of reflective pieces. Tossing the hand towel on top of the toilet seat, he picked out the two largest, squarest fragments he could find. The rest he threw into the small waste bin wedged between the toilet and the sink.

  Though he did not realize it, he hummed as his worked, to the tune of The Song of the Marines. As he reached the end of the first verse, he had made his way into the kitchen. After futility checking the small utilities closet, he found the broom wedged inside the corner of the small pantry. It wasn’t as if he had been up to much spring cleaning as of late.

  Grabbing the broom by the end of the stick, he lowered it diagonally to the floor before he brought his foot down on the handle just above the plastic casing for the bristles. With a satisfying crunch the wood splintered, the bottom portion of the broom separating.

  Kicking the plastic portion aside in disregard, he continued to hum the chorus as he held the broom handle in one hand and looked through the kitchen drawers with the other. Once he found the duct tape, he edged the drawer shut with his hip and returned to the bedroom.

  His humming grew more emphatic as he worked. It was a difficult job to tape the minor shards in such a way that they were both angled at either end of the stick and tightly secured without completely covering the reflective surface. The humming technique was something he had picked up in basic. Much to his surprise, he had found that instead of distracting him, the humming helped him hone his concentration onto a specific target.

  It was a rough patchwork job and hardly something to brag about, but as he knelled on top of his bed and held the device down against the floor, he was able to make out the ground under the bed. After a few minor tweaks to the angles of the mirror that required re-taping, he was satisfied enough that it would do the job. With a sense of relief, he reattached his favorite scope to the rifle and zipped the duffel back up. Instead of tossing it back up into the closet, he placed it on the ground and slid it under the bed gently with his foot. Safer to have it easier to access, he guessed, with the plans they had brewing just over the horizon.

  Daniel

  The following day brought another storm. Daniel had been up most of the evening tying together his makeshift rope for lowering Lenore into the elevator shaft. As the rain began to belt against the window, he decided to take a break from the nearly completed rope to catch a breath of less stale air. Grabbing a towel from the bathroom, he rummaged through the closet for the cleanest undershirt he had available. Though he had left the window open through the night, the constant exertion he used ripping through the countless number of bed sheets had left him with a sweat pooled shirt.

  Showers and baths were a luxury of the past that were simply not sustainable anymore, and it was perhaps one of the aspects he missed the most about a civilized world. Standing in the rain and scrubbing off with an already soiled washcloth did little to remove the sweat and grime from his body, but he did what he could when offered the opportunity. If they ever made it to the other end of it all, he was definitely converting to a man who enjoyed baths.

  When he reached the rooftop, he hung his towel and cleaner undershirt off the bar of the inside of the stairwell door. Then he kicked off his shoes, peeled off his socks and added the shoes to the pile, keeping the socks in hand. Most of the group had since given up on wearing shoes, but it was a simple sign of humanity Daniel couldn’t let go of. Part of him hoped that if he held onto the specific aspects that made humans such a unique species, it would keep them from losing their way as the world continued to crumble around them.

  As Daniel exited out into the rain, a sense of peace washed over him from the rhythmic sound of the rain colliding with the roof. At least nature had not completely given up, and the simple joy of clean water helped erase the exhaustion from his mind.

  He made his way across the roof to the flower pot he had emptied a few weeks back. A small collection of water had pooled, and Daniel dipped his socks in it, fully submerging them. Pulling them out, he rubbed them together, trying to remove as much of the clung in dirt as possible. They had run out of detergent a while back. He couldn’t remember the last time he owned anything truly clean.

  Setting the socks on one of the loungers, he peeled off his shirt next as it became laden with rain. It took longer to completely soak in the shallow flower pot, but he managed. It also took longer to scrub out, as he had to grab sections of it at a time to rub together. Wringing out the shirt, the sweat stains looked lighter. It was the best he could hope for.

  He pondered for a moment before he worked his khaki shorts next. They would take forever to dry, and they were his only pair not darkened by dirt or dust. If he wanted to keep them that way, he would have to wash them as often as possible.

  Once the shorts were done, he stretched them out on the lounger as well. They would dry when the rain stopped, and he would collect them later. As he stood in the rain, he decided to do something he had never done before. He moved to the ledge of the building and leaned, stretching to look down at the street below.

  He had heard the constant shuffle of feet and the soft moans that came from the ground, of course, but he had never bothered to take in the sight. Not after what happened to his brother. He could hardly stand the thought of the infected lurking just outside the building.

  But it would be days, less than a week he imagined, before the harsh reality was once more thrust squarely in their faces. He had already made the decision to volunteer to be part of the scavenging group, though he hadn’t told the others yet. Thus it only felt appropriate that he should prepare himself for what came next.

  He had faced a lot of things in his twenty-eight years, but nothing had settled so deep in his mind before. The sounds of the infected on the streets, the knowledge that they roamed out there continually day after day, kept him awake at night wondering where the government went. Where the military was. He couldn’t stomach the thought that they were the only ones left. Or rather, the only ones left breathing.

  “Daniel,” a voice called out in surprise.

  He hadn’t heard the stairwell door open, but there stood Lenore, staring directly at him. He was probably a sight to see, he had to admit. Though the small group had learned to live together and work together, they hardly ever found each other on the roof in their underwear, staring off into oblivion.

  “Thought I’d take advantage of the rain,” he said as he leaned his head back, blinking against the raindrops splashing into his eyes. “Couldn’t remember the last time I cleaned off.”

  Lenore offered a small smile. “Great minds think alike.” She hesitated as she unbuttoned her blouse, but her hands worked quickly once she gathered her strength. Modesty had no place at the end of the world.

  “Here,” he extended a hand toward her as he pulled away from the ledge. “I’ll help wash it if you’d like. Two sets of hands work quicker than one.”

  She handed over the top as she unbuttoned the sole button of her jeans and then worked the zipper. “This is not an insult by any means on your laundering ability,” she assured him as she stepped out of her pants.

  “I hadn’t even thought to assume so until just now,” he replied honestly.

  “It’s just hard to feel clean anymore.” She moved to stand next to him, and he was painfully aware that her underwear and her bra did not match. He tried to shake the thought from his mind as he worked on scrubbing the underarms of the shirt.

  “It’s hard to feel anything anymore,” he told her. “Apart from the depressing thoughts we’d rather not feel.”

  “Can we… maybe not talk about that?” she asked.

  “Downer Daniel. My apologies.”

 
“I just… during a rainstorm is the only time I ever feel like it’s worth having hope anymore, you know? I don’t want to ruin that. Especially since the aspect of plunging into the dark, disgusting elevator shaft has currently consumed my every waking thought.”

  “Sebastian offered to get what we need,” he reminded her, moving to stretch out her blouse on the lounger next to his clothes. “There is no shame in changing your mind.”

  She seemed hesitant to burst what symbolic happy bubble the rain might have afforded her. “There is a lot of shame in being a coward. And I know he doesn’t understand why I need to do this, but I do. Just because I can’t properly explain it to him doesn’t mean I can just change my mind.”

  “Changing your mind would in no way make you a coward,” he told her, sitting down on the edge of the lounger. She finished with her jeans, spreading them out beside him before she pulled the other lounger a tad closer and sat down.

  Facing him, she pushed the already drenched hair from her face. “Why does everyone feel the need to talk me out of it? Do I really seem that weak to everyone? If Anna had been the one to volunteer, no one would have questioned her for a second.”

  “But you aren’t Anna.” In another time, she would have been beautiful perched on the edge of the lounger