Apocalypse [1]

Day 3- 13.09pm

Alby cleared his throat importantly and stood up before the assortment of people gathered around the table.  The group were in one of the supermarket’s offices upstairs; a wide, spacious room with drooping, plastic potted plants dotted around the room in ugly ceramic pots.  Similarly ugly lamps hung from the ceiling at regular intervals, casting ghostly shadows over the tired and beaten faces around the room.  Fletcher turned to Zara, who sat on a black office swivel chair to his right.  He raised a quizzical eyebrow at her as Alby began arranging his notes, sorting through the piles of paper that were covered with his neat handwriting. 

As Alby prepared himself for what he promised was a “highly democratic council meeting”, Fletcher turned his attention to the arrangement of people Alby had chosen for the council.  The boy sat on Alby’s right, who Fletcher believed to be called Ed, was poring over a black ledger, taking notes for the meeting.  Ed had pale skin and golden coloured hair, underneath which he studied the ledger with soft sea green eyes.  He looked barely a few years old than Fletcher was himself, and had a splattering of light brown freckles over his small nose.  Ed, Fletcher had noticed, seemed to be in charge of the supplies in the supermarket, for it was he who had been rationing their food over the last day, and he who had also slipped Mary, the youngest of the supermarket group at five years old, an extra piece of toast at breakfast. 

On Ed’s right sat Celia, her strong face impassive as she surveyed Alby through narrowed eyes.  Fletcher could almost see the cogs turning in Celia’s brain, churning over whether to trust the smartly-dressed, already-powerful young man in front of them.  He trusted Celia’s judgment of character more than anybody else’s, and Fletcher knew that, if the time came, he’d stand by her against any odds in this world. 

Beside Celia, fiddling again with the lever of her swivel chair was Zara, who was making a desperate attempt to lower the seat.  Fletcher watched, fighting back manic giggles of laughter, as Zara tugged and tugged at the plastic lever, shooting straight downwards on the chair as, with one final tug, she yanked the lever free from the chair itself.  Blushing, she flicked her long brown hair over her shoulder and tried to regain what little dignity she had left, throwing the broken lever casually over her shoulder.  She flashed Fletcher a grimace of embarrassment that Fletcher shrugged off, chuckling. 

On Fletcher’s other side was Sally, who, impossibly, still seemed to be smiling in the midst of the mess.  Since arriving at the supermarket, she had made friends easily, her outgoing and bubbly personality drawing people to her.  People liked and respected Sally already, especially the younger residents, who clung to Sally like a mother.  Fletcher knew it was this popularity that had made Alby desperate for her to attend this meeting. 

The last of the group was Patrick, who grinned as he caught Fletcher’s eye across the round table.  Patrick was the most loyal person Fletcher had ever known, and had quickly become his companion since their first meeting.  Patrick stuck to Fletcher like glue, making him laugh and helping him out, even sharing his food.  Ordinarily, Fletcher admitted, he would have found this rather annoying, but the loss of both Lily and Henry had hit him hard and still made him throb with grief, and it was comforting to have a best friend like Patrick around again.

“Right,” Alby said at last, drawing himself up importantly.  “There are a few matters that we need to discuss…firstly, of course, is our basic survival.  Food, water, medicinal supplies are our priorities.” Alby thumped his fist onto the table, and Zara stifled a giggle that she quickly disguised as a cough.  Alby ignored her.

“We’ll need to send out scavenging parties to bring back supplies.  We already have shelter, an established base where we can stay.  Where we are all safe,” Alby said, and Fletcher frowned.  Stay at the supermarket?  Permanently?