Population Control

Camille V

Idiosyncrasy - a distinctive or peculiar feature or characteristic of a place or thing

0o0

We were let in, thankfully. We found ourselves in a massive, barbed-wire compound. Before entering, we were pounding at the gate, hearing it shake and shiver. A young man and woman came out: the man with dark brown hair and stubble, the woman with shoulder length hair the same colour, a side fringe almost covering one of her brown eyes. Yelling, screaming, crying, they opened the gate when the Rabids came close enough that if it was a second longer we would be gone.

Upon entry, an older man and woman encased us with blankets, offering tea or hot chocolate or coffee. "Barney, click the kettle on." Said the woman to the man. He had a walking stick, moving with a slightly limp but somehow at a normal pace. Her wrinkly hands wrapped a blanket around my shoulders. It was only then that I realised how bitterly cold it was.

From observation the house didn't seem to be made from bricks, but wood and straw. A light oak wood boxed in the kitchen, hallway, and dining area, and just behind another door (possibly the living room) a burgundy wood was used for the walls.

"Oh you poor things." Sighed the woman.

The man and the woman came in: they told us their names were Leo and Meghan. Their house had five rooms, so they said we could stay in them. When I asked why they were doing this, the old woman said 'We humans stick together'.

It was never something I thought I would hear in a serious context.

"We're going to be gone by tomorrow, it's okay, honestly." Said Jason. He wasn't wrong, I want to be back on the road as soon as possible, leaving England for good and hopefully putting my French GCSE to the test. They said we were welcome to stay longer.

Whilst they cooked dinner, they told us to go check out the rooms. We all headed into the same one.

"I vote we stay here for a day or two." Said Matthew. It was a valid argument, but why would you want to stay? What is the need? We're about a three hour drive away from Folkestone, meaning we can then take a twenty minute drive to the Channel Tunnel, an area that Jason can guide Sam through without any problems with navigation.

"We're imposing on them here. What happened at Sam's, I don't want that to happen here, too." I said in reply, purposely avoiding Sam's eyes.

"Look," Matthew turned to me specifically whilst the other three stood and listened, "Matthew and Jason need to learn how to handle a gun. I can't teach them on the roads, and this place has fences around it so nothing is coming in."

"I-"

"This place is a farm," Said Dylan, "so it's not as if they'll run out of food in a hurry. Plus, we'll only be here for a few days, right?" It was clear I was losing this fight. Clear that we were staying longer than necessary.

"I agree with Camille... something about this place doesn't sit right with me..."

Matthew rolled his eyes, "This isn't Camp Zero from that comic, Sam. We'll be fine." It was shocking that Matthew managed to listen to all of Sam's lectures on the comic series, because even I lost track of it. And Matthew wasn't exactly fond of listening.

We're staying, then. Although I hate to admit it, I could see the appeal of staying a day or two. This family was one of those survival families who had this all planned out for the inevitable end of the world. A month and a bit ago, I would have called them crazy, delusional, in need of help. Now, they're the ones laughing.

Dinner was like a happy montage in a tv show. It was full of laughter and joy, something I hadn't seen much of in about a week. Their energy was contagious, the Donovan Family. After dinner it was getting dark again, and all four of us felt the effects of today's/last night's experience. We were whizzed off to bed, being told 'kids like you need eight hours sleep.' by both Barney and Claire. Meghan offered me a pair of her pyjamas and I excitedly smiled, picking out her Mickey Mouse ones and dashing off to get changed.