March, Part 2

After Zombie Day I never returned to school. It seemed no one else did either, as the building quickly fell into ruin. I would go and just stare at it some days, enraptured by how somewhere so familiar had become so alien. After a few weeks I couldn’t believe it was ever a part of my life.

With no more school, I spent most of my time at home. It was a hollow existence. Days slipped away in a blur. There were stretches where I would never even leave my bed. If I were alone, I reckon I’d have died there, rotting away bit by bit until dehydration or starvation or sheer despair took me. Only my family kept me going.

My mother still cooked meals for us. Although everyone else was in a perpetual state of crisis, she had found a surprising level of comfort in her newfound free time, distracting herself by (often unsuccessfully) trying new recipes. Her meals brought all of us comfort, even if they wound up disgusting. It was something to talk about that wasn’t our imminent demise.

My father still managed to keep busy despite his job functionally no longer existing. He would go out and scavenge, though he always seemed to return empty-handed.

Mark remained sedentary as ever, still glued to the TV. Despite the ongoing societal collapse, it still played. While many channels had turned to static, the government kept a few going, giving live updates, reminding people to stay calm and repeating old sitcoms in hope that some comfort could keep would-be rioters pacified.

The non-governmental stations were a more interesting story. With most TV companies' stocks in the dirt, they could no longer pay their employees. As such their offices and studios went abandoned, left to be cannibalised by whoever got to them first. As a result, pirate TV had taken off. It was typically just documentaries on people’s real world experiences throughout the apocalypse, but various religious groups and wannabe cult leaders had taken to the small screen too, looking to recruit for their organizations. I rarely took note of them myself, but one figure my brother frequently watched caught my eye. Wallace Wickstrum.

His broadcasts were always professional and clean, just like his appearance. Much like his appearance on the news a month earlier. He was always centre frame, staring intimately into the camera. It creeped me out, though apparently Mark found it somewhat comforting.

“It’s the end of the world.” He said calmly, as he did at the start of every broadcast. “Though that doesn’t mean we have to act like it.” His tone started soft and neutral. “I’m sure you’ve all observed it. Men and women around you acting like animals. Like scavenging hyenas and violent chimpanzees. It’s detestable.”

His thin smile crept onto his lips inch by inch as he continued. “We are not animals. We are humans and we are blessed to be so. There are two things that separate us from beasts. Our capacity to reason and our souls. Those are, in essence, our humanity. We cannot allow ourselves to give up on them, even in the face of societal collapse.”

From there, his passion only grew, his country accent invading his professional tone as it did. “The systems of government have failed us. They have perpetuated this inhuman dog-eat-dog competition for years through their systems of markets and capital. They’ve brainwashed you all. Indeed, they had brainwashed me. I was once a part of that evil mechanism, but the end of the world has allowed me to escape. I am free now. And with my freedom I choose humanity. I choose community, kindness and reason.”

It was no wonder Mark found him comforting. His sentiments were pure, things any reasonable person would agree on. There was just something about the way he spoke that put me off. It was like his words were worms wriggling their way into my ears. I couldn’t stand it.

“As you may know, I am travelling south by foot. Accompanied by my wonderful commune, we will be visiting every major population centre. Borders mean nothing in this collapsing world, and truly, never meant anything at all.” The camera pulled back, revealing a small group standing alongside Wickstrum. They all stared directly forward and smiled the same thin smile he did. “If you are a believer in community, reason and kindness, I welcome you to join us. I hope to see you soon.” In unison the entire crowd waved, signalling the end of the broadcast.

“Weren’t there more people last time?” I asked Mark.

“Were there? I was focused on Wickstrum.” He shook his head, snapping out of his trance. “I guess some people just moved on.”

“Surely he should be gathering more followers though, right? Not losing them.” I pondered. Mark didn’t respond. He seemed to know something but I didn’t pry.

It seemed everyone was migrating south now. Given the shape of the closing Eye it made sense. The north would be the first to fall into No Man’s Land as the eyelid descended. If the timeline for the Eye closing was a year, it was a safe guess to assume that only the southernmost nations would not get the full year. The government failed to disclose this to the people, of course; Though many billionaires and celebrities conveniently relocated south in January, ostensibly for “the weather”.

Now, it was the time for the regular citizens to catch up. Early adopters and doomsday preppers had started the trend and now the everyman was following it, desperate to buy even a small bit of extra time for them and their loved ones.

Our family didn’t have the means to do so. Our car was small and we certainly didn’t have the capital to buy essentials like food and fuel. Although conventional shops and gas stations were a thing of the past. The world still turned and as such, there was money to be made. The black market was now the primary way to obtain these things. Naturally, as the only game in town, they charged highly. We were stuck no matter what.

Our neighbours, however, were more than capable. One by one they began to disappear. People I had known my entire life were uprooted and gone within what felt like mere moments. Our street was quickly becoming a ghost town and we were being left behind as the ghosts to populate it.

Only one person ever said goodbye to me. Admittedly, I wasn’t close to any of them, but most people disappeared without a word. Marlie was the only exception.

She appeared at my door one day with a knock. It was a strange sound, alien now. People didn’t knock anymore, they were either barging in to steal from you or not coming over at all. Marlie was a well-raised girl, however. It was no surprise she wouldn’t let go of decorum, even under the circumstances.

“Rosa, my family is moving south.” Her lips quivered as she spoke. She chose the most neutral words, fearful of letting any emotion in, lest it overtake her entirely. “We… Won’t be back.”

Rather than her usual brightly coloured and highly accessorised outfits, she was plainly dressed in browns and blacks. It was like a flower had died right in front of me.

“I see. Thanks for telling me.” I nodded, unsure of what to do with myself. We rarely ever spoke face to face, Whether it was in class or at school, I was always behind Marlie. I was unsure on how to carry myself now that she was standing before me.

Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes. I’d never noticed that they were such a light brown, almost orange. Maybe that’s why I always liked when she wore orange? “Of course! I couldn’t just leave you!” She choked. The emotion she was trying to keep out came flooding in. “I mean… You’re gonna be all alone.” The dam broke. Overwhelmed with emotion she pulled me into a tight embrace.

It was so strange. Did I really warrant this? I had always thought we weren’t close, that a wealthy, popular girl like her must have had countless others she prioritised higher than me, but here she was, sobbing into my hair at the prospect of leaving me. I couldn’t comprehend it. The simple idea that she cared for me much more than I imagined. Much more than I cared for her, even. I wondered if that was why I was always behind her. Was it that I simply couldn’t picture myself at her side?

At that moment, I realised that our differences never mattered to her. She was taller, more fashionable, wealthier, prettier, more popular, but all of that was insignificant. She didn’t view me through the lens of comparison, as I did with her. She saw me for who I was. A lonely girl. Her friend.

I had never considered my lonely nature a bad thing, but in the face of losing Marlie I realised what a tragedy my life had been to this point… No, tragedy was far too strong of a word. Tragedies had stakes and drama and meaning. My life simply wasn’t anything. I simply existed, alone in a perpetual melancholy.

But I wasn’t alone. I only realised that then in my last moment of companionship before my previous supposition would become reality. The moment Marlie let go of me and left for the south, I would truly be alone.

I was terrified.

More scared than I was when I found out the world was ending.

I hugged Marlie tight, savouring every picosecond as our moment together began to slip away. Even now I can recall every iota of detail. How each hair fell from her hanging head onto my shoulders, caressing my head in a secondary embrace. How she smelled like cinnamon and orange, scents I only then realised had always reminded me of her. How she wept, tears falling like raindrops on to my head from above, sinking into my scalp as her sorrow did into my mind.

In that moment she was the world. She was warm and soft and all-encompassing. I wished I could’ve lived a lifetime there. I didn’t care if it ended like our world was doomed to. A moment there was worth a decade outside of it. All the isolation, all the melancholy I felt, none of that existed there. It was a place where at last, at last, at last, I wasn’t alone.

Then she let go.