The P.O.H.K. Project

January 3rd, 2073:

“Kailynn, finish your soup,” my mom says tightly, spooning the grayish, lumpy soup into my bowl. The smell coming from it is awful. Like old socks and mildew.

               “I don’t want to.”

               “And I don’t care what you want. This is our ration food.”

               “Maybe I don’t want ration food.”

               “Then you can starve.”

 I give my mom a hard glare and she turns away. My dad looks at us and says sternly, “Kailynn, listen to your mom. She’s doing the best she can for us.”

               “Well, maybe she needs to try harder,” I say, shoving my bowl away and putting my face in my hands.

               “Kailynn, that’s quite enough!” says dad, pointing a finger at me. “Apolog—“

               “I’m done!” Mom shrieks suddenly, cutting off dad. She throws the pot of soup on the ground with a loud clatter. Soup splashes everywhere. “I’m done, someone else can cook, I’m tired of your attitude Kailynn! I’m tired of this!”

               She stalks out of the room and slams the bathroom door. My dad gives me a furious glare.

               “Clean it up. Now. Not one word,” he hisses, his face red.

               He leaves the room after her, and I sigh deeply. My stomach growls, but there’s no way I’m eating whatever mom cooked.

               “Kailynn?” a small voice asks shyly. I turn around and see my little sister, Stina. She’s six years old, with these big, liquid brown eyes and blonde curls. Even though her name is Christina, we all call her Stina because she couldn’t pronounce her name until she was four. When you asked her what her name was, she would say, “Stina.” I guess the name stuck, because that’s what everyone calls her now.

 Stina is the one who keeps me sane in this family, and I love her unconditionally.

               “Yeah?” I ask

               “Why did mommy leave?”

               I look into her innocent eyes. All the fighting between mom and I must be hard for her to watch. But these days, tensions are so high and I just can't help it sometimes.

               “Uh… She’s just upset, that’s all. Don’t worry,” I say, ruffling her hair. She gives me a shy smile.

               “I’ve got to clean this mess up,” I sigh, grabbing a dishcloth from the sink. I rinse it quickly and mop up the soup. Stina watches me with interest, crossed-legged with her face in her hands.

               “Kailynn?” she asks after a minute.

               “Mhm?”

               “Why is everything closing? My school, your school, the stores, why is it all gone?”

I look at her in surprise. For a little six year-old, she’s amazingly inquisitive. But she won’t ever understand fully.

               For the last five years or so, a highly infectious virus, simply dubbed the super virus, has been slowly ravening the world. The scientists say it’s a mutated strain of the plague. Whatever it is, it’s destroying crops, animals, and lately, people.