Hell is Empty

Hell is Empty- Chapter 10

That night I can’t sleep. There is so much commotion outside; some people are trying to leave the compound, convinced that they are close enough to London to die of radiation sickness within days. They don’t know how it works. At least I have some idea, the war was inevitable, I like to read, I’d felt I should be at least a little prepared should the worst happen. Chances were if any of us did die of radiation sickness it would take years and would be due to cancers that would kill us with our own bodies.

But crowds don’t care about science. All they want is immediate action. They are fuelled by fear and act upon impulse only, seeking their own safety at the expense of anyone else. The herd is selfish, but you have to remember: it’s more scared of you than you are of it.

From the window I can hear the shouts of the soldiers, trying to control the situation, it sounds as though they’ve started to fire rubber bullets at the mass of bodies, at least I hope they’re rubber. If you don’t think about it, it can be confusing as to why they want to keep us trapped like animals, but in a world where your friend and enemy look exactly the same, once they have a group that seems to be docile, they like to keep it from escaping, from reaching the outside world and becoming something unknown, something dangerous.

I roll over and change my position on the floor. My bones are beginning to complain about the endless nights spent on hard floors and cry out for a little comfort. I take the pillow from under my head and use it to cushion my hips against the rough carpet. I notice how the bones begin to protrude, no wonder I’m uncomfortable, there’s hardly any fat left on me to shield my nerves from knocks and discomfort.

I have tried to ignore the changes my body has gone through in the last months as rationing tightened and food got scarcer while I had to work harder each day, but it’s becoming difficult to turn a blind eye to the ribs that stick out and the skin that begins to crack around my lips and on my fingers. At least not having to worry about my periods any more was a slight relief. At least I haven’t gotten sick yet.

From the bed I hear George exhale slowly and turn to face Mia’s side of the room. I assume he is checking to see if she is awake because he next rolls to face me and once he sees that I face away from him I hear the sheets gently scrape across each other and then two light thuds as his feet hit the floor. He carefully steps over me and opens the door, creeping out as quietly as he can. It seems I am not the only one who can’t sleep. I listen to his soft, uneven footfalls on the stairs and stay where I am for a moment, struggling to hear Mia’s slow, regular sleep-breaths before I too push back my blanket and tiptoe downstairs.

I find George in the living room sat on the sofa, a glass of water, barely half filled in one hand, his head leaning where the other would have held it despite the fact that his left sleeve hangs empty and limp at his side. Against the faint glow of the outside world let in by the window behind him I see his pillow styled hair move as his head turns in my direction. He doesn’t say anything, but scoots over, allowing me space to sit, which I take.

We sit together in the quiet room, myself motionless, George occasionally sipping his water, both listening to the muted commotion outside.

“Do you think the water will be okay tomorrow?” He asks, his voice barely a whisper. “Just to wash our clothes, I mean.” I chuckle and he puts down the glass, now empty.

“I thought you said you knew a bit of the physics. It’s not really a problem unless we get the radiation inside of us, dummy.” I say with confidence, even though I’m not truly sure myself. I can’t see through the gloom just yet, but I almost feel that he rolls his eyes before pulling me roughly into him and ruffling my hair.