by Haga, A. H.
A. H. Haga
Survival Kit
First published by Haga Books 2021
Copyright © 2021 by A. H. Haga
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
First edition
Cover art by Ravven
This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy
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To the Millions Missing.
Contents
Preface
1
2
3
4
5
Excerpt from Medical Notebook
6
7
8
9
10
Excerpt from Medical Notebook
11
12
13
14
15
Excerpt from Medical Notebook
16
17
18
19
20
Excerpt from Medical Notebook
21
22
23
24
25
Excerpt from Medical Notebook
26
27
28
29
30
Excerpt from Medical Notebook
31
32
33
34
35
Excerpt from Medical Notebook
36
37
38
Epilogue
Acknowledgment
About the Author
Also by A. H. Haga
Preface
Myalgic Encephalomyelitis is a neurological condition that affects the whole body. No M.E.-patient has precisely the same experience of the disease. Some have mild symptoms and can work. Others spend their lives in bed in a dark room, too weak and hurting even to eat.
This book is based on my own experience with the condition.
I was diagnosed in 2014 after years of symptoms, and have steadily gotten worse. I now have Severe Myalgic Encephalomyelitis, meaning I am mostly homebound, if not bedbound, and move around with the help of a wheelchair.
Therefore, this book is extremely personal to me, and I am giving you a snapshot of what it is to live in my body, as I couldn’t fit all of my symptoms into Kit or this world.
I am not a spokesperson for disabled, wheelchair-users, or M.E.-patients. This book is not a medical text or the answer to what it is like for everyone to have M.E.
Thank you so much for reading.
1
It took all of a month for the world to end, and it felt like we were the only ones left. I didn’t want it to be true, but I hadn’t gotten any proof otherwise.
“How does it look out there?” Shadia asked as she entered the living room and placed a rucksack by my feet.
“All empty,” I answered as I bent and picked it up. I didn’t bother looking through it, knowing it would contain medication, food, water, and blankets. The things we deemed most important. We’d talked it over many times, and I trusted her.
“You ready, then?” Shadia continued, making sure her rucksack sat secure. She was dressed in hiking boots, shorts, and a t-shirt. A jacket hung tied around her waist, the bottom half of her shorts lay in one of the thigh pockets–the pants had a zipper at the knee–and she had a knife hung at her belt. A pair of bright pink gloves shone against her golden-brown skin. Her dark, curly hair was drawn back from her face into a ponytail so it wouldn’t get in the way.
“Guess so,” I answered and lifted the rucksack, slipping its straps over the handles of my chair.
Shadia narrowed her eyes at me. “We could stay one more day, but I don’t think it would make any difference.”
I looked away. “I know, I know. I just don’t want to, that’s all. You sure you shouldn’t go without me? I’ll only slow you down and–”
She cut me off. “Stop it. We’ve talked about this. I’m not going without you, no matter what.”
“But you know I’m right!” I barked back. “You know bringing me will most likely get us both killed.”
“And I might as well die if I don’t bring you!” she yelled back before closing her eyes and drawing a deep breath.
I knew she meant it, and that left me between a rock and a hard place. If she stayed, we would probably die. If she brought me, I might slow her down and we might die. That ‘might’ was what decided it for me in the end.
Calmed, Shadia walked over and sank down in front of me, taking my hands, resting them within her own in my lap. “I know you’re scared. I’m scared too, but we can do this. We get out of town today and find a car tomorrow. With a car, we should be there by tomorrow night, right?” I nodded. “So, let’s do this.”
“But what if we can’t find a car? Or what if the streets are clogged all the way to Vestfold og Telemark? What if we run into them? What if they’re already on the island?”
“Don’t worry about those things. I’ll deal with that. As long as you’re with me, I know I can do this.”
She kissed my hands and looked up at me, her brown eyes big and pleading. I stared into them, wanting to drown in them and forget everything else except the two of us, but the unnatural silence that hung outside the windows was an eerie reminder of the state of the world, and I looked away. I didn’t mind staying behind and dying, but no way was I going to let Shadia die because of me. No way.
“Fine,” I sighed. “Let’s go.”
She grinned and shot up to kiss me. As she was moving to stand, I grabbed the strap of her rucksack and pulled her back to me. I kissed the tip of her nose. She leaned down and did the same, resting her forehead against mine for a second before pulling back.
“You have everything?” she asked, her eyes roaming over me.
“Yeah.” I pointed to the messenger bag standing against the wall by my feet. As I reached for it, she grabbed it and slung it over her shoulder. “Won’t that be too heavy for you?” I scowled.
“Nah, I’m mostly carrying clothes. You got all the heavy stuff.”
I wanted to point out it would be heavy for her too, but rolled my eyes instead and leaned down to make sure my Doc Marten’s were tied properly. They were summer boots and fitted well, but I had winter boots in the messenger bag. We’d talked about bringing more clothes, but most of the heavy winter-gear was already at the cabin, and bringing more would only slow us down.
Shadia’s family had celebrated Christmas at the island cabin for her entire life, and I’d spent a few holidays there myself. Few used the area in winter, so we felt like we were the only people in the world. Not unlike now. I shuddered and pushed the thought away.
Compared to Shadia, I didn’t look ready for the trek at all. I was wearing black jeans and the Docs, and a black tank top with my leather jacket slung over the top. On my head sat a wide-brimmed hat that almost hid my dyed green pixie cut. My face was pale from years spent mostly inside, and I wore sunglasses even now. The only color I wore was the pink bike gloves on my hands, matching Shadia’s. They were a gift from her a few years back.
We’d argued about what I should wear for this trip, but I didn’t have any workout clothes anymore. She’d said she could lend me some, but I declined. Her clot
hes were too large to fit me, and their fabric would irritate my skin anyway. There were many things to think about for a trip like this to succeed, even without considering my fucked up body.
With a last sigh, I pushed a piece of gum into my mouth and unlocked the brakes on my wheelchair. “Let’s go.”
Shadia gave a nod and walked to stand behind me, gripping the handles and maneuvering me away from the wall.
I threw one last glance out the window, but the street was as quiet now as it had been before our little spat.
I’d seen a few of them over the last few days as they moved past the cars and houses, and I’d been afraid they would come for us, but somehow they hadn’t noticed us up on the fourth floor.
Shadia opened the front door and pushed me out before turning and locking it behind us. The thought of locking a door when we were the only living people we’d seen in weeks made me want to cackle with panic, but I kept it in. Instead, I considered teasing Shadia about doing it, but the act was so natural that it felt wrong to mention it.
We kept silent as she wheeled me down the hallway. When we reached the elevator, she stopped and mumbled something I didn’t catch. I turned to look up at her, taking off my sunglasses to see in the dim hall. The power had gone out days ago, which was when we started talking about going to the cabin. Neither of us had thought about the elevator not working, though.
“What now?” I asked.
She sighed. “I guess we take the stairs.”
“How?
“One at a time.”
She glowered and wheeled me toward the door leading to the stairs. Pushing it open with her butt, she wheeled me in backwards. The door closed with a metal bang, plunging us into darkness.
2
The trip down the stairs was a mess. While Shadia was prepared for dark places and had brought headlamps and regular flashlights, she hadn’t been prepared for stairs and a wheelchair.
I couldn’t help thinking that this was a bad sign, as I was sure we would have to run at some point, maybe into a building and up stairs, but I didn’t voice my thoughts. Right now, I was trying to stay positive and help Shadia as much as I could, even if it felt like she was jolting my spleen out my mouth with every step, and I almost swallowed my piece of gum at the same time. It was not pleasant.
“You should’ve just carried me down first,” I said in-between groans.
“Shut up,” she answered in a puff, pushing her butt back to hit me in the back of the head. “I’ve got this.”
I didn’t answer but rolled my eyes and scanned the dark stairwell. There were no signs of any struggle; no blood on the walls, and no bodies on the stairs. The only sign people had left in a panic was the forgotten teddy bear on the second-floor landing. I pictured Jimmy from the apartment across from us, hugging the bear tight as his father carried him down the stairs. Someone must have bumped into them, and Jimmy lost his grip. When he cried out for his lost friend, his father didn’t dare turn back to look for it, carried with the flow of people as they were, and the teddy was forgotten.
Not that I was sure the teddy had belonged to Jimmy. For all I knew he didn’t have any stuffed bears, but he was the only kid I knew in the building.
Shadia bumped my head with her ass again and muttered in Arabic as she straightened.
“We down?” I asked and reached for the wheels. I was pretty sure I’d kept up with the floors, but between all the bumping and Shadia’s mumbling, I might have messed up the count.
“We are down,” Shadia answered, and I turned around.
She was stretching her back before trying to loosen up her shoulders. I watched her limber up for a moment before I rolled to the door. She didn’t stop me before the palm of my hand, protected by the glove, was on the handle.
“Maybe I should check the lobby is empty first?” she said.
I turned to look at her, my headlamp making her squint. “I’m sure we would’ve heard them if they were in the lobby,” I answered flatly and pushed on the handle, still only touching it with my gloved palm.
Shadia jumped forward, ready to grab and pull me back, but the door opened to an empty lobby. The late summer light shone through the big glass doors at the front of the building. Nothing moved anywhere in sight.
“See?” I said and rolled out, turning off my headlamp and pulling down my sunglasses again as I waited for her to close the door behind us. Shadia grabbed my handles before I rolled another meter. She didn’t stop me as I feared she would, but pushed me forward. I considered arguing that I could move on my own, but I also knew we would move faster this way, so I kept my mouth shut.
Through the glass in the front door, I could see an empty street. Cars stood along the other side of the road, and other than some trash lying forgotten on the asphalt, it was completely still.
“What’s the plan if we meet any of them?” I asked as I reached forward and unlocked the front door, using bent fingers so only my joints touched the metal.
The moment I opened the door, I was hit with a smell so bitter I almost gagged. Instantly, I could taste the death on the air, and I spat out my gum into the lobby.
“Ew!” Shadia exclaimed, stepping aside so as not to be hit by the wad of gum. “You could have spit it outside.”
“You know birds might get stuck in it,” I answered as I grimaced against the smell.
Shadia didn’t answer before the door had clicked shut behind us. Looking up at her, I saw she was blinking against the sharp light, looking up and down the street. Looking for cars or them, I wasn’t sure which.
“Back to the original question; run and hide,” she answered when she was sure we were alone, and started pushing me up the street.
“Where’re we going? The station’s that way.” I pointed over my shoulder, twisting to look up at her again.
“Keep your eyes straight ahead and tell me if you see anyone, OK?” she said and glanced down at me. When I didn’t turn, she leaned down and placed a quick kiss on my forehead. I mumbled my agreement and turned forward, squinting to try and see better. “The station might have closed down when things started going South, but it’s in the middle of town, and that’s where people gathered, so I’m sure there’s still a bunch of them there. I want to try and avoid the most crowded places.”
That made sense.
“So going for Ring Three?” Oslo was split into rings. Ring One was at the center, where we lived, and the most crowded, with the shopping street of Karl Johan, the royal castle, hotels, and the main train station. Ring Two was less crowded, and Ring Three the least so. The freeway ran through all of them, but I was sure Shadia was right, and the streets within Ring One would be clogged with both cars and people.
“Yeah, I think that might be best. Get to Ring Three and onto the freeway from there. Find a car and drive all the way to Borøya. Sounds like a plan to you?”
“Yeah, guess so.”
We rolled on in silence for a while.
We’d left our street behind, and I couldn’t help looking around. I hadn’t left the apartment for over a year now. After my legs stopped working, it felt like more of a hassle than it was worth to go out, so I only left when going to the doctors or other errands I had to do. That meant I got into our car and was driven to wherever I was going by Shadia or someone else willing to help, and I didn’t bother looking around. Now, out in the bright light of the August sun and with the world quiet around me, I took it all in, wondering for a moment why I had shut myself away in the first place.
Something clattered up ahead, and Shadia stopped. We stood still for half a minute, listening. It might just be a dog left to its own devices after its owners died, or one of the many stray cats or rats that had roamed the city before things went to shit. But it could also be something much worse.
During that half-minute, the clattering came twice more, seeming to always come from the same place and distance. When it didn’t come any closer, I glanced up at Shadia, who looked back down at me. Without a word, I gave
a little nod, and she pushed me forward.
As we neared Bislett Stadium–a big, white oval used for all the sporting events one could think of–the clattering grew louder and faster. Like if a wind had picked up and was snapping a flag, but there was no wind right now. It would have blown my hat right off.
Our progress almost slowed to a crawl; we came into view of the many doors leading into the stadium.
Shadia jerked to a halt and gasped. I was speechless as I stared at the glass doors and the people pressed against them. They stood packed, women and children and men dressed in regular clothing. There hadn’t been any sporting events, but I knew that the stadium had been used as a refugee center for people from evacuated buildings.
Still barely breathing, I grabbed the wheels and drew myself out of Shadia’s grip.
“Kit,” she hissed, “what are you doing?”
“I just wanna take a look,” I answered, not taking my eyes off the people.
“Come back here!” Her voice was barely audible over the noise from the doors. As close as I was, I saw what had made the clattering sound. One of the windows was loose and kept almost falling out of its frame whenever the people on the inside pulled back, and was pushed back against the metal frame when they surged forward again, trying to get out.
Just a meter away from the doors now, I looked up at the people inside. Their eyes were trained on me as they scraped their nails and teeth against the glass, trying to break it without knowing how. Their skin was grey and dead; on some, it had started to rot, and all of them were oozing something. The woman right in front of me was missing an eye, the skin around the empty socket ripped to pieces by what I guess must have been a bird of some kind. Maggots filled the socket, wiggling and crawling. I felt my stomach move and want to empty, but I swallowed the bile. The woman’s other eye was trained on me; the pupil dilated until it filled her whole iris, making whatever color it had been disappear, replaced by all black.
“Katerina Ingunn Tanum, get back here!” Shadia hissed, her voice making me jump and push the chair forward.