― Margaret Atwood
Bleak Future
It was ironic. I was a high-profile news columnist seeking anonymity. How stupid. It was an absurdist nightmare.
Brooke Henderson was as well known as I and Angelica Sara was an internationally acclaimed clairvoyant. How the hell were we supposed to fade into the shadows?
I was staring out my living room window at the half-filled trailer hitched to my car. It was an insane plan. Someone was bound to recognize one of us, unless of course, we disguised ourselves. We still had to purchase at least some necessities unless we were able sustain ourselves solely living off the land.
But I was no survivalist and my off-grid cabin wasn't designed to sustain me for nine months, let alone accommodate two other women. What the hell was I thinking, or not?
I was quickly sinking into despair.
It was past five and the girls were set to arrive in the morning, relying on me to protect and shelter them. I wasn't even sure if I could last nine months myself.
I felt shaky and weak, so much so, I had to sit down. It dawned on me I hadn't eaten or drank anything all day. I was probably suffering from low blood sugar and dehydration.
I forced myself to make supper and grilled a steak on the barbecue along with an assortment of vegetables.
Later, sitting before the fire, I felt less fearful. I knew staying in the city would be horrendous with the blackout and a plague raging―besides, it wasn't an option―the cabal would surely come looking for me.
No, the only solution was retreating to the country and trying to lie low and limit my dealings with the locals.
The meal did more than settle my nerves, it made me drowsy and within minutes of curling up on the couch I was in a dead sleep.
My dreamless state didn't last, however, as I became aware of a stalking presence. I imagined myself fleeing in terror down streets of darkened houses being pursued by an immense dragon.
The more I panicked, the harder it was to run, until finally I was cornered in a blind alley.
The last thing I saw was the immense behemoth lumbering toward me, its jaws drooling and eyes flaring.
I awoke with hands gripping my shoulders and shaking me.
"Zach! Wake up―you're dreaming."
I gazed up at Brooke's concerned face hovering above me.
"You were screaming and I couldn't rouse you. Are you okay?"
I groaned. My throat ached. "I think so. Is it morning?"
"No, I came over this evening. I need to talk to you."
"I'm okay," I muttered, although clearly I wasn't. I was still shaking and groggy.
"You need something warm," she said, "draping a throw blanket over me. "Do you have any coffee?"
"On the grill," I muttered, pointing out to the back patio and the barbecue.
"I'll look after it. Keep the cover wrapped around you. I'll be right back."
I stared at the flames of the fire still crackling merrily in the fireplace and saw the blue flare of an approaching storm through the window pane.
Is this nightmare ever going to end? I moaned inwardly.
Brooke returned with two mugs of steaming coffee and cheese and crackers. "It might help to eat something," she admonished.
I didn't bother telling her it didn't help the last time but was grateful for her concern.
"I didn't know you suffered from night terrors," she whispered, as she gently pushed back a lock of damp hair from my forehead.
"I didn't before this emergency. I think the whole world has gone mad. Makes me wonder how long people can sustain the stress and all the upset."
"Did you hear the news?" she asked.
I shrugged and looked at her blankly. "Tom Faraday is dead, Zach. They found his body this morning."
I felt I was going to be sick. "I warned him last night to stay here. He insisted on leaving."
" He was with you last night―what time did he leave?"
"I'n not sure. It was nine or ten―it was pouring. I had a bad feeling."
"He probably left to save you. He was killed just after midnight, just outside a so-called safe house where he was staying."
I put a hand to my forehead and shut my eyes. I was done. I couldn't bear anymore bad news.
"We have to get out of the city," I muttered, "the sooner the better."
She nodded. "As soon as Angelica shows in the morning, we'll leave."
A great thunder crash shook the house and rattled all the windows.
"My God!" she exclaimed, "If it's not the plague, we'll be killed by these storms."
I could see the fear written plainly on her face.
"Come here," I said, lifting the cover, "we need to stay warm."
Within minutes, she was fast asleep in my arms.
It was reassuring holding her close and I could see this happening each night for the rest of our lives. But Angelica was coming in the morning and I had no idea how that would work for the next nine months.