by Shaw, Matt
Last night Sister had fallen asleep in my arms pretty quickly after I cuddled up behind her, my presence bringing her some kind of comfort. Unfortunately I didn’t have the same luxury and stayed up most of the night looking out of the window (through the barricade) to the world outside, wishing things could go back to how they were before the incident which changed everything for the worse. I knew there was no point in wishing such things yet I couldn’t help myself. I still wished away regardless. And then (when I realised I was wasting my time) I lay there wondering whether I should take charge of the situation and leave the house by myself.
“I’m going to find some food or help. Whichever comes first.” That’s what I would have said to Mother and Father. Of course, he would have told me not to be so bloody stupid but I’d argue with him. I’d tell him we didn’t have a choice and that one of us would have to go out there. If he wasn’t going to do it, then it only left me.
“Did you sleep?” Sister broke my playback of how I thought the conversation would go.
“Yes.” I don’t know why I lied. Just felt right.
She squirmed away from my embrace. Was she suddenly uncomfortable with me being so close? Was it not her who asked me to come onto the mattress with her too?
“You okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine.”
I don’t remember my name yet I remember the words I’m fine. If someone used the phrase, the chances are they were far from fine and that something was bothering them. I didn’t push her to find out what she was really thinking. I didn’t need to. I expected I already knew the answer. She was scared about the situation (both inside the house and out). And she had every right to be; both of our stomachs were rumbling loudly and that wasn’t going to fix itself by sitting around in the hope someone would come by the house and find us here. Besides, if someone did come by, would Father believe they were actually there to help or would he just regard them as a possible threat? Looters here to see what they could scavenge?
“I was thinking about leaving the house,” I told her. There was a brief spell of silence. “Thought it might be worth going out and seeing if I can find help, or some food.”
“What about what Father said?” she asked.
“You know we can’t just sit here and wait.”
“But if you leave...What he was saying about the things out there...Those people...”
“If I stay, we’re going to starve. How long can we last with no food? I don’t have a choice.”
“Father won’t let you.”
She was right (of course) but maybe he didn’t have to know. Maybe I could just avoid the whole conversation with him? I could just leave via the window. Move one of the barricades and sneak out. All it would take is for Sister to go downstairs and keep them talking. I could leave. A little time later they’d discover me missing but by then I’d be long gone and there’d be nothing they could do about it. I’d either come back with help or food - either way it would be a win for the family.
“I won’t ask,” I told her.
“He’ll be mad.”
“I won’t be here.”
“But I will be.”
“You don’t need to let him know we had this conversation. Just act surprised when he comes and tells you both that I’ve left via one of the windows. It’ll be fine.”
“I don’t want you to go.”
“I don’t have a choice. We don’t have a choice. In an ideal world - yes - someone would come and find us and everything would work out perfectly. We’d go on to have our happy ever after but, what’s happened outside, that’s proven we aren’t living in an ideal world. The place is ruined and if we’re to survive...I need to do this.”
Sister didn’t say anything. She knew I was right as much as I wished I wasn’t. I didn’t want to go out there - especially alone - but I knew I didn’t have a choice. Not if we wanted to survive.
“When?” she asked.
“This morning. Now.”
Her eyes welled up. She looked away from me. I didn’t know what to say to make her feel better. She must have been able to see that it was the best thing to do. She must have realised what it would have meant if I just sat there and did nothing?
“I’ll come back!” I promised her. I don’t know why I told her that. It was stupid of me. I hoped I’d be coming back, of course I did, but I couldn’t promise it. What if there is no food out there? What if there is no one out there to help us? I could end up walking until I collapse from exhaustion.
“I could come with you?” she suggested.
I shook my head. “You can’t. It’s dangerous out there. Besides which - as much as I’d love for you to come with me - Mother and Father would realise pretty early on if we were both to go missing. We wouldn’t exactly get far away enough before they’d come looking.”
“They wouldn’t come looking,” she said. “Father won’t leave the house.”
“If both of his children vanished from the house I am sure he’d come after us. Look - just stay here. You can tell him why I would have left when they realise I have gone. You can say that you didn’t know I was going to do it but that I’ve probably gone for help. It might make him feel better about it all. Help him see that I didn’t have a choice, yeah?”
Sister reluctantly nodded.
“I love you!” I told her. I pulled her close for a hug. She hugged me back.
“Just come home!” she ordered me.
“I will.”
PART THREE
Now
Morning After
Morning had come, despite my wishes for an eternal sleep to take a hold of me during the night. I shouldn’t have eaten any of the meat last night. I should have refused it. A hunger-strike. I should have just let myself starve to death but then - if I was going to do that - I should have done it the first time I was presented with the choice of eating or not.
A strong willingness to survive, I guess. How I wish I could shake that from my mind now. But then (if we’re talking wishes) I wish I hadn’t survived the bomb in the first place. If it had to happen - and it was only ever a matter of time from what Father remembers of the past - I wish I had been one of the lucky ones to have perished upon impact. At least then I wouldn’t have turned into what I am today - whatever that is. And I wouldn’t have had to witness my family changing from the people that I loved into...What are we now?
I can’t shake the thoughts of what I have done to my sister and the images of the things I’ve eaten from my mind. When I’m taking part in the atrocities it feels good. It feels more than good. But afterwards? The guilt surges through me reminding me how wrong it all is. I can’t cope with it.
I glanced up to the mattress where Sister was sleeping. She kicked me from the bed once she had finished with me last night and had fallen asleep pretty quickly. Guess I played my part well. She looks as though she is sleeping soundly. Certainly more at peace than she was the day I left her to go looking for food; the day I stepped up and put my life on the line to protect my family from the risks of starvation.
I shouldn’t have left the house. I should have stayed put and let nature take its course. If we starved to death then so be it. God’s will. At least we would have died as innocents. No blood on our hands.
Looking at her now, I wonder whether there is any part of my sister left in there just as there’s a small part of me hidden away deep beneath the surface. Or is she lost to whatever darkness consumed our humanity when we were presented with the option?
Please let there be some humanity left in her.
And within my mother and father.
She stirred from her peaceful looking slumber. Slowly she opened her eyes.
“Morning!” she whispered. There was a sparkle in her bright blue eyes and a smile on her face. Had she forgotten what she did to me last night? Has she forgotten that she forced me to an erection and then - for all intents and purposes - raped me? I understand that what we do - what we all do - is wrong but it has never gon
e that far before. A new (unpleasant) side of my sister.
“Morning,” I whispered.
She sat up on the mattress and stretched, “I can’t remember the last time I slept so well.” She laughed. “I guess I should thank you for that.” She rubbed her eyes and stood up. “How did you sleep?”
Did she think last night was a game?
“Good,” I lied, keeping it simple.
She jumped down next to me and pushed her way underneath the thin duvet which covered me, “Fancy another go? This time you can pretend to rape me.” She giggled like a naughty schoolgirl, “Please don’t...Please...No....”
“What’s the matter with you?” I asked. I kicked the blanket off and stood up.
“Me? What is wrong with you?”
“I wasn’t playing last night,” I said. “I wasn’t in the mood...”
“You owed me.”
“Owed you? Owed you what?”
“The orgasm you denied me.”
“Have you heard yourself? Jesus - what have we turned into?!”
“What?”
“I don’t even know who we are anymore.”
“I’m your sister and you’re my brother. A great fucking brother at that.”
“Everything’s so wrong.”
She looked at me as though I were a piece of trash. No. It was worse than that. She looked at me as though I were one of those things outside.
“It’s okay when you want sex but when I want it it’s tough? Is that it?”
“It’s not just the sex...”
“Oh my God - you’re still stressing about the meat? Every time it’s the same...”
“And it should be the same for you too! Why am I the only one who feels like this? Why does no one else see what we’re doing is so wrong?”
“Because everyone else knows what we’re doing is necessary to survive and you always get like this after we’ve had a meal.”
I wanted to remind her what the meal actually consisted of but I knew she wouldn’t care. In her head what we did was perfectly acceptable. Father made sure of that by forcing his opinion on us so strongly that he may as well just have brainwashed us.
“And you don’t usually complain after we’ve fucked!” she pointed out.
There was a playful tone in her voice. There was no point in arguing with her. It was true. I don’t complain after that. I get carried away by the lust of the moment and all rules go out of the window. With the meat I get carried away with the thought of eating (the thought of surviving) so those rules go out of the window too until afterwards when the indigestion kicks in and I can’t help but think of what I have just eaten. Did they have a name? Were they like me in that they were part of a larger group and they were on the lookout for help or food? Did they have a family? Who knows - with regards to the sex, maybe I’d start to have guilty feelings about that too had I been left with a burning (or itching sensation) after the act; some unpleasant reminder that what we did was wrong as opposed to a feeling of contentment.
“You need to pull yourself together! You heard what Father said last time you got like this...”
“How could I forget? How dare I have an opinion about how we are living? It was stupid of me to have even challenged him.”
Sister didn’t say anything. She just glared at me. Her once sparkling eyes dulled in colour at my tone of sarcasm. I had to be careful. If I pushed her too far, she’d tell Father. Daddy’s little pet.
“I’m sorry.” I tried to take a step back to save from getting into an argument with her.
“You shouldn’t be challenging him. You should be thanking him. Thanks to Father we’re alive. Thanks to Father we’re safe. Had it not been for his actions - that night you came home from trying to rescue us - we could have all been killed. You need to remember that.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
A knock at the door interrupted us. The door opened and Mother stuck her head into the room. “Your father says breakfast is ready if you care to come down.”
Mother didn’t wait for an answer from us. She knew we’d be down. We always went straight down when we were expected to as that was what Father wanted from us. He didn’t want to be kept waiting. He never did.
I apologised to Sister again and offered her a hug. She accepted my apology and put her arms around me. I held her tight, clinging to the memory of how it felt to cuddle her when she was human. She used to be so caring. She used to be so gentle. So kind. Now she’s broken. Just like Mother and Father. I’m battling with my conscience so as not to follow their lead.
Humanity will be the death of me but without it, I’d feel lost anyway so what does it matter?
Most Important Meal of the Day
Father was sitting at the head of the table with a smile on his face by the time Sister and I walked into the room. At first, I thought he was being strange - perhaps lost the plot entirely - but then I realised why and did my best to ignore it (and the sounds).
Sister and I took our seats opposite each other. In front of us, on the table, were bowls full of off-cuts from last night. I looked up at Sister who wasted no time in digging in, using her fingers as kitchen utensils. I chose not to. My mind was tormenting me with the expression on the meat’s face last night when it was all in one piece in the centre of the table.
It was missing from the table now of course. Where it had been bound, there were just dark patches from where it had leaked (piss and blood). I knew it smelt bad in here (in the whole house in fact) but I didn’t notice it anymore. At least I could be thankful for that.
Father grunted with satisfaction as he fisted a handful of meat into his gaping mouth. I couldn’t help but wonder whether it was the taste of the meat or the other goings on which made him grunt.
He realised he had made a noise and quickly cleared his throat as though the sounds were all part of the same action. Sister couldn’t help but laugh; a laughter stifled behind her hand.
“So how was your night, you two?” Father asked. He grunted again.
“Satisfactory!” Sister teased. I looked at her. She was staring directly at me with a knowing smile on her face. I smiled back at her. Not that I wanted to. I just didn’t want Father to think there was a problem. I suddenly flinched as I felt a foot dig into my crotch. Another glance towards Sister and she gave me a playful wink.
“Well the good news is that we still have a fair amount of food left in the kitchen,” Father said, in between grunts which seemed to be getting more frequent. “With that in mind I think it’ll be safe to say we don’t need to venture out today, Son, so the day is yours to do with as you please.”
The hunting trip cancelled thanks to the poor bastard who stumbled across the house yesterday.
“That’s good,” I told him. In some ways it was good and in other ways not so much. On the one hand it meant that I didn’t have to help hurt someone (if we even stumbled across a normal survivor out there as opposed to one of the infected) but - on the other hand - it meant that I’d definitely survive another day. Out there, there was always a strong possibility of running into a large group of the infected and getting torn from limb to limb. I was too afraid to take my own life but if this is how life is to be lived now, I wouldn’t bat an eyelid if death did come along.
Father’s eyes momentarily rolled to the back of his head as he let out a sigh. He slammed his hand down on the table, “Goddamn!” he shouted. He quickly tried to cover his tracks even though we all knew there was no point, “So what are you going to do with your day now then, Son?”
I shrugged.
“I can think of something,” Sister laughed, her toes still buried into my crotch. Suddenly her foot was pulled from my lap and the toes were replaced with stroking fingers. I heard Mother laugh.
Sister just looked pissed.
I kicked Mother away and jumped to my feet, sending my chair flying in the process, before she had a chance to unbutton my jeans. Father and Sister just looked at me as though I had lost
the plot.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I’m not feeling very well. I think I’ll just go for a lie down.”
I started towards the door but Father stopped me, “Son...”
Slowly I turned to face him.