Lake Che

Pilot

Opening the fridge in a swift motion, I experience something similar to whiplash brought on by the cold air blowing on my face, which opposes the warm ,dry summer air that fills the open concept kitchen. I've done this 3 times in the past 2 hours, and each time I expect something I actually want to eat to materialize out of thin air, but this time my standards are low enough for me to settle for a can of beans. that's all that I'll be eating these next few months, until I learn to hunt.

Life wasn't always like this— back before shit hit the fan, the fridge would be stacked with all kinds of foods and desserts. I remember it it vividly. Every day I came home from school to find chocolates occupying the drawer next to the stove, leftovers of every food you can think of crowding the fridge. That might be the only thing I miss about those days. I still don't want to go back. I'd take hunger over daily public humiliation any day.

After erasing any trace of beans in the can, I venture into the garden and pull out 2 seed packets from my worn baggy jeans and take in the sight of everything around me. There are no signs of animal life, as usual. The outbreak didn't kill them off, my father held a high position in the research field, so it didn't take long for him to catch wind of the disease slowly brewing. Of course, it also didn't take long for him to take what he saw as the proper safety measures: bolts on the door and a high electric fence that surrounds the entire house.

Of course, since me and my mother did not posses the same information as he did, we just thought he was having a psychotic break. I still wonder why he wouldn't tell us. I'm not unhappy, but it would've been nice to get a heads up, but oh well. I cant really say I could visualize my future before all this happened. I just knew it couldn't be any better than how I was living at the time, but then again, it couldn't get worse. life sucked when people were the dominant species on earth. The disenfranchisement I experienced at school was thinly veiled enough to not be seen as bullying (at least not by teachers) and frequent enough to completely demolish any sense of self esteem I had. It was more snide comments, weird looks, and invasive questions than being shoved up against lockers. This continued up until 11th grade, where I'd become well versed in the forms passive aggressiveness and words with double meanings used on people like me.

This may have helped me in a way, though. It reaffirmed the only things my parents taught me, which was to never trust people, never let anyone in, because all we do is come into each others' lives, make all kinds of promises and vows, then find the next best person to break them with. 

So, there we go. Now you know me. My name is Charlie Sturges. I'm 17. I love funerals and sometimes, before the virus, I'd pretend I was deaf when people tried to say hi to me.

I slice off the tops of the packets with my teeth and plant the seeds carefully. my mother was really into flowers for some reason. Gardenias now circle the entire garden garden, while violets are strewn across its' parameter. 

I wash my hands in the bathroom and step outside of the house for a stroll on the arid streets of Lake Che. Every time I take this road, whether it's post or pre-disaster, I'm reminded of my parents trying to drag me to church when i was a preteen. They gave up after the 4th time. I'd always either drift off to sleep or make a scene. I did mean to embarrass them, but I played the child card. I don't walk this road because it has sentimental value, I'm not that type of person. The sidewalk, formerly filled with perfect housewives that I imagined had just got done grocery shopping and were on their way back home to their dissatisfied husband and 5 kids, has succumbed to nature, now cracked with lush greenery filling the gaps. The benches which were fixed in place are now unscrewed, knocked over and covered in moss. It feels hotter than ever now. Maybe global warming was bound to happen.

On the way back home, I notice signs that used to advertise vacation spots, now which are being hugged by green tentacles of nature. I'm reminded that now that there's no one to scrutinize me or hold me down, I can go wherever I want. Do whatever I want. Yet. there's this voice inside of me that keeps stopping me, asking if its worth risking the stability I have now. I'm not happy, but this is the most stable I've ever been. I choose the simple life.

After struggling to unlock the door for a while, I manage to go inside. I fetch my record player, put on some queen, then pop open a bottle of wine. I'd never go for wine, but its the only beverage I have. My body jolts, spilling the drink when I hear the doorbell ring.