Dakota's Suite

In The Shadows

The ember of my cigarette brightened as I took another inhale. I remained perched in the middle of my old, eerie-ass excuse we all called for a staircase. The left side of my face was supported my tightly closed fist, my eyes planted on the foyer below me that had almost been swallowed in darkness, had it not been for the light that emerged from the dining room in the bottom right.

It was past nine, my mother, Daphne, had decided to plan a dinner. She claimed that it would "help take our minds off of the craziness outdoors".

A sly grin had crept across my face as I plucked my cancer stick from my lips. Sure Daphne, let's indulge in your dried food and pretend that your neighbors aren't literally being ripped out of their homes, never to be seen again!

The kicker here is that the dinner applied to my sister, my step-father, and my twat of a step-brother Bryant, not me. Though I will say that it's much more of a blessing rather an a curse, I'd prefer not to spend my next hours on the throne due to Daphne's neglectful cooking skills, or maybe that was only when it came to my plate. Dinner always applied to those three majority of the time (only because sister wanted me to be a part of some of the meals).

But this dinner, I will say, is a tad different. Especially with what had been going on.

For almost a month now, a fever had launched the country into a large panic. From what I had heard, you had nearly forty-eight hours to live with the fever before it had wiped you out. Back when the TV was still running (a week ago), I've caught enough glimpses of the symptoms among the infected to know that it's relatively serious. I mean, the fever is literally fatal.

Pandemics are common in this world, but this fever literally had everyone locking their doors and praying to whatever god that rested above the clouds. It's so bad that anyone with the slightest hint of the symptoms were dragged into quarantine. Anyone that harbored them had also went along with them. Oftentimes, the military had strolled through our streets to run checks on each and every house that still inhabited functioning people. They've visited us four times last week, we haven't heard from them since.

In all honesty, we haven't heard from anyone these past couple of days.

"Dakota!"

As if I was in a trance, I blink to find my sixteen year-old little sister several steps below me. Hannah.

Hannah is literally the best one in the family, hands-down. She's idealistic, warm-hearted, creative and not to mention a bit of a smartass when she needs to be. I've often found myself scaring off the little boys (girls too) away from her direction whenever they seemed to show that they have ill will towards her. She was pretty tall for her age, often had been nit-picked for being slender. Her shoulder-length raven black hair had been pinned back in a half-updo, giving the frames of her blood-red glasses more leeway as her scar along her cheek is now much more visible. She wore a lace tank top along with a colorful maxi-skirt. A little overdressed for sharing a meal with her mother and the family she married into but it made her happy, so I'm in game.

She placed her hands on top of her knees, leaning forward with a furrowed brow and a faint smile. "Kota! What are you doing here all in the dark?" She asked, her bubbly voice already urging me to stop smoking my cancer stick.

"I can ask you the same question," I responded with a nonchalant shrug. "Don't tell me Daph-Mom gave you food poisoning with her food." I half-joked.

Hannah rolled her eyes. "Dakota be nice! She's trying."

Of course she's trying, trying to kill us all.

"Are you okay?" She asked, her expression softening as her eyes planted themselves on the small stream of smoke emerging from my cig. "You know Mom doesn't like it when you smoke in the house."

Ask me if I give a shit.

"Sorry." I grunted with a half-assed apology, not really caring for whatever that woman had to say about a mere cigarette. I waste no time to put out my cancer stick along the staircase. I shifted my gaze back to a now-frowning Hannah.

She sat down a step below from where I was currently sitting. "I can't hear Bryant's constant complaining over Mom's meal choice of the day-"

I wasted no time to refuse. "No thanks."

She slapped at my arm. "You didn't even think about it!" Her eyes soften as she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her freckled nose. "She made-"

"Maybe later." I tried to pivot but I was only met with the sad eyes of my younger sister.

"You said that before." She stated breathlessly, a hint of disappointment intertwined with the tone of her voice. There was another pause, one that lasted a little longer than it should've. She rested her head against the wall and brought her knees to her chest.

"Please. Just one dinner." Hannah pleaded.

I let out a sigh. At this point refusing would only make her even sadder, and that's something I'd rather not do. If being nearly poisoned is what makes her happy for a little while, I'll do it for Hannah.

I caved in. "Fine. But I'm gone in twenty to go for another c-"

Her eyes lit up as she rose from the stairs, using the rail to help support her weight. "Great! Sit next to me!"

Before I could utter another word, Hannah's hand caught onto my wrist, pulling me to my feet as well. With enthusiasm, she had trotted down the stairs with me with her wicker sandals.

I could already feel my stomach churning at the thought of what I knew was going to happen next.