by VK Gregory
Of course, I couldn’t pay, but it still felt like stealing, walking out with my horde of randomly grabbed items, I heard the alarms go off as I walked through security at the entrance. I had the urge to abandon the trolley and run, certain that I would be arrested by security before I could escape. I hurried, pushing the trolley as fast as I could towards the end of the car park. It was hard work and it gave me back ache trying to manoeuvre it around living statues and cars, trying to stop it from losing control on uneven pavements with adverse camber. The wheels frequently locked causing me to stumble into it, or hit my leg against it,
‘Bloody stupid wheels’ I cried as I tried to stop it leaning to one side. I pulled it but it was full of goods and difficult to manoeuvre. The wheels found a rut which led to a slope and before I knew it, I watched the trolley roll into a little boy holding a small, purple pterodactyl toy in his chubby hands.
‘No,’ I cried, trying to grab the handle to pull it back, jarring my back as I tried to stop it. I was too late, the trolley hit him in the face and he fell backwards stiffly. A box of marshmallows fell out of the trolley, rolling into the gutter. I ran to the boy’s side, panting and my heart beating fast, but he wasn’t shrivelling or dying. He just lay there, blood coming from his nose, but otherwise undamaged. I couldn’t pick him up, or comfort him. I couldn’t find his mummy or his daddy, but at least he wasn’t shrieking in agony.
He was alive. I looked at him one last time then picked up my marshmallows and made my way back home, fighting with the trolley to avoid a repeat of the event.
Lost in my thoughts, I almost missed it. A familiar sight I could easily have overlooked had I not been drawn to the gap with my trolley – as soon as I got near I recognized it immediately. A pile of ash. I knew it had once been a person. I thought back to the two Daniel had killed but it neither of them had died here, and it wasn’t the neighbour with her dog. I had been so careful; I would have noticed touching someone. A niggling sensation in my mind questioned, was it me and if not who?
Who had they been? And most of all, could someone else be moving with us after all?
Chapter Six
‘There’s others moving,’ I burst through the door, agitated and frightened. I’d left my trolley of loot in the street, watching as it slid sadly down the slope, coming to rest on the curb.
‘What, other survivors? You found some?’ his voice breathless with excitement as he jumped up, abandoning his phone to greet me in the hallway,
‘Don’t say it like that Daniel, it makes it sound like everyone is dead,’ I glanced towards the room where my mother stood still as stone, he rolled his eyes ‘and it’s not…. anyway, someone else is out there, there has to be,’
‘You saw them?’ he looked behind me as if he expected to see them rush through the door after me,
‘I—saw a death pile, ash from a person like what happened before,’ his eyes narrowed and he stared at me as if waiting for more and then suppressed a sigh,
‘And then you saw a moving person?’
‘No, but it had to be someone, didn’t it?’
‘Or maybe something fell on them,’ of course he didn’t know yet, for once I knew more than him,
‘No, I found out, it’s only if we actually touch them, objects don’t cause the disintegration thing,’
‘How could you know that?’ suddenly knowing more than him seemed momentarily exciting, I felt powerful, I almost didn’t want to let that power go,
‘Let’s just say, I worked it out myself on the journey,’ he looked intrigued and nodded,
‘Go on, what happened?’
‘Ok, I ran into someone by accident, with the supermarket trolley,’ I said with a shrug, he smirked and shook his head, ‘what? the trolley was impossible,’
‘Right well, very very interesting. Good detective skills, Sherlock,’ I felt the glee fall from my face; was he making fun of me? I glared at him, trying to regain my sense of control and power but he no longer seemed interested,
‘Anyway, nothing but a moving person could have caused this, don’t you see?’
‘Or you? You did walk past them, right? To get to the police station, on your little adventure’ his tone felt patronizing and scornful, I kept calm, feeling the bubble of irritation rising higher,
‘Yes, but I was very careful’ I enunciated, ‘I would have known if I touched someone, I’m not stupid, I didn’t even brush up against anything, I’m sure of it,’
‘Sure sure, or Katy sure?’
‘Excuse me?’ I stared at his contemptuous face,
‘You know, you always do this, you tell me you’re ‘sure’ you did something and then later you find you didn’t, or you’re sure you didn’t do something, you later find you did.’ he leant against the balustrade confidently, a stupid, half-smile on his face,
‘Go to hell, Daniel’
‘Oh come on, I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. You could have touched her, by accident and not noticed, which, let’s face it, is more likely than an invisible moving person.’
‘No, no way, they scream remember. I think I would have noticed screaming, it’s so quiet out there.’
‘Except for all the car alarms, fires and general destruction,’ that wasn’t the kind of quiet I meant,
‘Wait—how did you know they were a her’ I asked suddenly,
‘What?’ his eyes widened, was there more than shock there?
‘You just said, ‘you could have touched her,’ how would you know,’ I thought he wasn’t going to answer, he seemed to gaze off for a second before turning his eyes back to me briefly,
‘I just used it generically, like you do,’ I shook my head.
‘No one uses ‘her’ generically, it’s always him,’ he shrugged, brushing hair from his face and then looked towards the wall,
‘Well clearly people do. I did,’
‘You did what? Kill her? It was you, wasn’t it?’ Suddenly it all made perfect sense. I realised he could have easily followed me, in fact it’s the kind of thing he would do, follow me if I went out alone. Then he could have killed her. Like he did with the other man.
‘Are you kidding me Katy? I haven’t even left the house,’ but I felt sure he was lying. Twiddling his ring on his finger, touching his face, glancing away, the signs were all there. Murderer
‘You killed her, why?’ my questioning why was like a shriek from the withered livingstatues. He stepped towards me, facing me with certainty.
‘I didn’t do anything Katy. You did it. You probably did it and then forgot because you’re crazy, not right in the head, never have been, paranoid crazy bitch,’
The last word rang out like a shot in the quiet.
Neither of us spoke, Daniel breathed heavily and I was seething. Suddenly he blinked as if jolted,
‘What’s happening to us Katy? This isn’t us, this isn’t right,’ I unclenched my fists and closed my eyes, breathing in the heady scent of anger,
‘I know. It’s this world, it has to be. We must find a way to get out, or mend it or something. I’m scared Daniel,’ he nodded.
‘I know Katy, we both need to stop and think before speaking. You don’t need the stress; it isn’t good for the baby.’ He reached down and rubbed my belly and I smiled, trying to make the smile reach my eyes, but knowing it didn’t, I let it slip from my face as I thought about the pregnancy,
He took my hand; it lay limp and sweaty in his grasp. Carefully he looked at me, drawing his brows together and taking a long, deep breath,
‘Right now, we only have each other, let’s not lose that,’ his syrupy voice sounded false to my ears, ‘Now I don’t know about you, but I feel ridiculously hungry! Let’s see what you bought home,’ he gave me a lopsided smile and took me outside to get the trolley.
I didn’t forget his insults, and I realised he had never actually apologised but I heard his plea. Something was not right, the world was turning us against each other, forcing us into anger and hate and paranoia
. I wanted to believe that. This world. This crazy world. But a tiny subconscious voice nagged at me. A memory. A warning. A promise. A premonition. About him.
Daniel searched through the trolley eagerly, stopping only to brush a hair from his eyes, ‘Nice,’ he held up a bottle of whisky with triumph, the angled bottle glinting in the light. He quickly opened it and took a long swig. His nose crinkled and he blinked. Stomping his foot, he gave a mirthless laugh,
‘Single malt, my girl, you’ve got taste’ I giggled and opened a packet of gourmet cheese and red onion crisps,
‘Crisps? With this we need some caviar and truffles,’
‘Daniel, I didn’t get caviar and truffles,’
‘Why not?’
‘Because they taste like shit,’ he burst into raucous laughter and took a handful of crisps,
‘Can’t argue with that,’ I took a swig of single malt which made my throat burn and my redness appear on my pale skin. I gripped the arm of the dining chair steadying myself, as I let out a harsh breath.
‘I think I’ll have some champagne’ I said with a throaty growl that made Daniel look up from his food, I pulled out a bottle of champagne triumphantly,
‘To the stillness and free stuff’ he said suddenly, holding up the bottle, stretching his arm outwards for me. It was obviously in incredibly bad taste and I pursed my lips together, trying to prevent myself from exploding in anger,
‘To us’ I replied, holding up my champagne and he inclined his head as we drank our bottles silently,
As I sipped my champagne, Daniel suddenly grabbed the glass from my hands, concern spreading over his face,
‘Hey should you be drinking? What about the baby?’ I grabbed for the glass but he moved it out of my reach,
‘Come on, Danny, it’s fine. It’s one drink and we’re in a post-apocalyptic world, it’s all gone to shit. I’m drinking.’
‘You’re still pregnant and this is still alcohol,’ embarrassment and anger filled my face with blood,
‘Give me the glass,’
He stared at me, the humour gone from our conversation. He shook his head and gave me the glass, but a flash in his eyes set of the voice again. It didn’t look so tempting now. And suddenly I didn’t care.
‘Twat’ I cried, then poured the champagne over his thick hair. The bubbly liquid folding into the crevices of his waves and scalp, running in rivulets down his face. For a minute, he looked angry, standing up to wipe the bubbly liquid from his eyes. In that moment, I wished I hadn’t done it, the not-care attitude had left me, I was afraid the camaraderie was broken and the other Daniel would appear. But then he burst out laughing, throwing a half-eaten pork pie at me. Laughing as I poured another glass of champagne.
Danny said nothing.
The night disappeared in a blur of drinks, snacks and a variety of foods.
I did not wake to a hangover. My exhausted body showed no repercussions from last night’s binge. My stomach was not bloated from the rich foods, no thick tongue, furry with alcohol, no headache, just hunger and tiredness. I faked sleep, my eyes closed but my mind awake,
‘Morning princess, good night eh?’ he opened his arms into a stretch, the muscles on his chest rippling,
‘Yeah’ I laughed. It had been, we had almost managed to forget the last few days, it was great to just relax and let go. Pretend the stillness hadn’t stolen the world.
‘I wasn’t drunk,’ I said suddenly. And I meant it honestly, not in a post-drunk haze, of ‘ I wasn’t that drunk’. I recalled feeling relaxed and uninhibited, but not drunk at all, not in the way I had come to know the consumption of excess alcohol. ‘It’s funny, I drank, ooh how many bottles of champagne? And some rum and all sorts and I wasn’t drunk. At all,’ he sat up, his mouth turned downwards as he thought. Propping himself on his elbow he looked at me, with a furrowed brow.
‘Me neither.’ We stared at each other, trying to process this new information and what it might mean.
‘That’s weird’ I walked into the dining room where we now spent most of our time, to avoid seeing the living statue that occupied the living room, empty bottles and packets littered the floor. I surveyed the damage, seeing three bottles of whisky. It simply wasn’t possible for anyone to drink that much whisky and not be very ill. Or even dead. I stared at the mound of food and alcohol we had consumed too, packets and packets of crisps, oven chips, pizzas, bread, cakes, sweets, enough to make a buffet for 50 people. In one corner of the room chocolate wrappers were piled high, each one balancing on the other like a pyramid. Daniel was right behind me, his arms circled my stomach and I barely noticed,
‘Look,’ I said, swallowing a lump of fear,
‘Weird, I actually feel hungry today, not like I have alcohol poisoning,’ he nodded towards the bottles of whiskey, thinking like I had,
‘Me too, this cannot be good,’ he turned me round to face him, and gave me a wry smile,
‘Not good that we can’t get drunk? Sounds like a challenge, but I think we’ll cope,’
‘No Daniel, if our body doesn’t process alcohol and we never feel full, what will happen to our bodies? Like will our livers still be affected still be affected, for example?’
‘Katy, did anyone ever tell you that you are a crazy bit of nutter, enjoy, live and let live,’ he puffed out his chest, slapped me on the backside and walked off. The manufactured good feelings left over from the night before, were gone and we were back in the impasse we had made for ourselves. I stood looking around at the mess of the room, feeling a great sense of foreboding. This world had secrets. And it slowly released them, like clues in a crime novel, hinting to our eventual fate, I wondered what the next few months would have in store for us. But I doubted it would be the easy-going party that Daniel imagined.
Chapter Seven
I found Danny in the kitchen cooking, I glanced over his shoulder at the frying pan, the smell of frying bacon, eggs and sausages wafted through the air making my stomach.
‘Mmmm I said,’ my mouth filling with saliva at the thought of breakfast,
‘Go sit down, I’ll bring it to you,’ I sat down at the small glass kitchen table, staring out the French windows at the warm sunny day, the sun glinted off the dewy grass.
‘Tea, coffee, orange juice or champagne?’ he called from behind the fridge door,
‘Uhhh, not champagne, orange juice will do nicely thanks,’
‘K’ He brought me a large hearty breakfast, bacon and eggs and fried bread with sausages, onions and mushrooms, swimming in greasy layers of fat. As much as I ate, I still felt hungry. Perhaps I had been too caught up in the horror of our new-found situation over the last couple of days to notice the gnawing hunger pangs in my belly. But now I noticed it, I couldn’t hide the fact that I felt simply starving.
I took a long drink of orange juice, my saliva glands aching at the sour tang that was tasted so different from our usual brand. But I swallowed it down and held out a hand to Daniel and he hesitated for a moment before taking it,
‘Something is not right here, Daniel,’ he looked suddenly afraid, his eyes widened,
‘What? What’s wrong?’ his face turning a darker shade of red,
‘The hunger,’ I let go of his hand and he frowned, drawing his eyes together, ‘it’s not right, why are we are so hungry?’ for a second he looked relieved, then realisation dawned on her face,
‘I just thought the hunger was fear, or worry, that gnawing feeling,’ he replied with a shrug, as he drank down his orange juice. It seemed logical, of course we would be feeling fear and worry, and the feeling could well be that, but of course I knew it wasn’t.
‘Maybe it is, it could be right?’ we both looked at each other silently acknowledging that it wasn’t true, we both recognized the hunger now. There was no turning back or pretending otherwise, I finished my plate of food and my orange juice and reached for him to talk some more, he stood up, pushing out his chair so fast it fell over, crashing to the ground, and then marched out the kitc
hen.
‘Where are you going?’ I stood up, running after him, he had his coat, his hand on the door handle ready to leave,
‘Out,’
‘Why?’ he stepped through the door, ready to pull it closed after him, ‘hey, why?’ I grasped his arm,
‘I can’t just sit here all day, I’ve got to do something,’ he looked restless, bursting with the impotence of the situation, ‘anything,’ he added
‘Well I’ll come with you,’ I reached for my coat,
‘No, I’m going alone,’ and he was gone, slamming the front door behind him.
‘Danny?’ It was so unexpected I felt shocked, and very alone. Unable to resist any longer, my eyes filled with tears, which I allowed to spill onto my cheeks. It felt like a nightmare, a terrible long nightmare, one that had taken my world, my family and now Daniel from me. And I was just here, useless. I burped a greasy tasting burp and suddenly felt sickened, nausea rising in my belly like bubbles. I pressed a hand to my mouth, but the sickness still filled my throat, hot and burning and painful, forcing me to run to the bathroom and unload my breakfast into the toilet.
Sitting on the side of the cream enamel bath, I wiped the remnants of vomit from my chin, and the tears from my eyes. The exhaustion I had felt on waking, became a heavy, blanket of oppression, forcing my eyes closed, the morning seemed longer than ever. Staggering forwards, I made my way to the spare room, falling into bed and into a deep dark sleep. I did not dream.