Red Eye

Part Twenty

The silhouette is back again. This time it brought a couple friends. I still can't tell if they're Red-Eyes or regular people. Not wanting to take the risk, I still haven't moved from my spot at the counter, haven't peeked through the slits in the paper, wouldn't even dare to open the front doors. 

I can't really tell what they're doing. They don't make any noise, don't whisper or make hand signals to each other. They mostly just stand there or pace back and forth. I don't know if they're looking for a way in, if maybe they're a group of ruffians searching for scraps. 

I wonder what it's like outside, how far society has plunged into chaos. Any time I think about what lies beyond those doors, my mind conjures up various images. I wonder if the situation outside matches anything that's been depicted in those end-of-the-world, disaster films. Has nature reclaimed everything; vines encircling every abandoned structure, wild animals walking through the streets? Have we formed various factions and begun hunting each other for sport? Or does everything still look exactly the same, just devoid of all human presence?

The group has shuffled off, I'm not sure where. I wonder if they found the bodies, pulled back the tarp to take a peek. Have we resorted to cannibalism yet? Probably best not to go there... 

...

It's been quiet on the ZASurvivors blog, either that or the page has frozen. The WiFi's been acting up more frequently than usual. The automatic light that illuminates the counter has been flickering on and off. I should probably take this as a sign that everything's not going well.

Thankfully there's still plenty of running water. I'd kill for a full-body hose-down but I've settled for rinsing my pits and washing my face in the sink with some overly floral hand-soap. Is it strange to find the scent of your own musk appealing? 

In one of the storage closets, I found a metal broom wedged between some of the shelving. Unscrewing the broom portion off, I figured the blunt end would suffice as a weapon. I've still been toying with the notion of making a half-assed attempt to survive all this, though I haven't really found a reason to do so. 

Reflecting on how I came to be here I'm reminded of a certain Twilight Zone episode... the one where the nerdy guy just wants some space to read his book... "Time Enough at Last."

The ending always gets me; never fails to stir up anger in the pit of my stomach. The man just wanted to be left alone, get lost in the worlds contained within the mountain of books he painstakingly collected and organized, and just like that, his dream literally shatters to pieces at his feet. Him and I... are we sharing the same punishment? Has our shared desire to be by ourselves been fulfilled in the most brutal way possible? Has the world falling to ruin been the true answer to our need to escape everything happening around us? Time stops, and yet we are forced to continue onward. 

Guess I could off myself... as anti-climatic as that would be... possibly treading on predictable. Suicide is a fine line I have carefully tight-rope walked over the years. The thought has continued to rattle itself around in my head since the very first attempt... in the bathroom where my mother's body probably now lies. It's been a persistent nagging, heightened as of recently, that for now I've been able to quiet down. This teetering back and forth has been driving me up a wall, an urge to do one versus the other always fleeting and full of second-guessing. 

I need a distraction...

Cracking open one of the sparkling seltzers, the sharp pop and fizzle breaking me out of my dark haze, I take a quick guzzle and immediately regret it. God, that is awful stuff!  The grapefruit flavor is too strong and the drink itself has gone flat. Knew I should have just tossed these! Taking another reluctant swig, my eyes flicker toward the windows, the scattered signage looking like a haphazard mosaic, and a thought comes to mind.

All these thoughts about Death, maybe if I ripped away ol' Grim's hood and saw underneath, maybe then I would know what to do. Maybe then, I wouldn't be so scared. 

Leaving my spoiled beverage on the counter, I make a beeline for the windows, moving all of the furniture out of my path and begin frantically tearing away. With each rip of sun-scorched paper and peeling back of loosening tape, the fragile border between me and the outside slowly comes down. By the time I'm finished, the world outside has gone dark and I breathe a sigh of relief, savoring the temporary blindness of what lies beyond. Looking upward, I startle myself with the sight of the stars and the brighter-than-white moon hovering above me like a Cheshire's smile. 

Has it really been this long since I've seen the sky? 

Pressing my face and hands against the glass, letting the coldness seep into my skin, I breathe deeply, trying to pull everything in and condense it, pushing it out until the glass fogs up and my view is clouded over. Resisting the urge to draw a silly face, I wipe everything away, smudging the glass with my palm and decide to retreat back behind the counter. 

There would be no more hiding once morning came. I was out in the open now. 

Whoever... whatever... was out there, is out there... they've been testing the waters. Coming close but still keeping their distance. I had just wiped away that line in the sand keeping them from crossing over. With this final act, I'd given away my location and it would only be a matter of time before they come knocking down my door. 

Still unsure if I'll make a final stand or wave the white flag, I pull one of the chairs from the pile of scrapped furniture and place it in front of the counter. Armed with only the broom handle and screwdriver to defend myself, I sit down and begin the countdown to my impending doom.