Chapter 62

2 0 0
                                    

Meet the Stranger

2035

Valencia

June 9th, 2035
Day: 3234
My name is Valencia Evelany Forther.
I am 17 years old.
I have a little brother, Henry.
He is 9 years old.
Running out of food sources. Need to go to the grocery store.
Fainted yesterday, didn't have any food.
Got yet another message from the Morse code transfer machine.
Need to listen to it.

Possible survivor(s)? What are their intentions?
Everything is numb.
Henry seems ill.
Hope he will be okay.
Need to fix the roof soon.
A tornado is coming, I can feel it.

Henry is up and pulls at my covers. I know that he wants me to get up but he doesn't have the courage to demand it from me. I smile, still half asleep. Then, something fluffy hits my face. Opening my eyes, I see Benni, the plush cow, sitting next to me on the pillow. I turn my head and look at Henry's impatient gaze. Propping myself up with one arm, I push away the covers and sway to my feet. The hardwood floor squeaks as I walk across it. I inspect myself in the mirror. Swollen eyes from lack of sleep, hair frizzy, clothes wrinkled. But who do I have to look nice to?

Henry appears in the reflection of the mirror and already wants to open his mouth to tell me he's hungry, but I interrupt him. "There is ... no food. I have to go to the store today." My voice is barely a whisper and my heart drops while I say it. I know it's not that critical, but it makes me feel like I've messed up being his big sister.

Okay, it is pretty critical.

Henry shrugs. "I know that. I looked in the cupboard and found nothing. But at least I have a cookie," he replies as he holds up a slightly crumbled cookie from I-don't-know-when. I smile back. Henry giggles and munches on the cookie.

I suppress a gag, because I know how long Henry usually stores snacks he stole from somewhere. But it doesn't bother him - Iron stomach, I'm telling you.

We will go to the supermarket. Today, I will take my brother with me, an exception.

I carry Henry to his room and get him dressed: a pair of black pants, an orange colored sweatshirt - his favorite color - and a dark puffer jacket. I tell Henry to wait as I get dressed myself in my room. It's a gray top, military-green jacket and dark blue jeans - simple and mundane but it does the job. Lastly, I put my hair into a braid to not get in the way when I am outside. My handgun is tucked into the waistband.

We need to go now. I need to make sure that Henry at least can get his three meals every day. And for now, the weather is bearable. I don't know how much worse it could get.

At the front door, I put on my converse sneakers and Henry his little brown boots. I go back to the kitchen and grab the most essential things: a first aid kit which barely includes the main contents, a thermo mug full of filtered water, a candle, matches in a waterproof tin box, a set of spare clothes and a warm blanket. It has helped us both so far every time we go out somewhere.



I open the front door. A cold breeze hits me straight in the face. Dark clouds are crowding the sky, almost completely hiding the sun behind. There is a tornado coming. Or something else. For all I know, it isn't good. Me and Henry leave the house, hoping that it will still be standing when we return. The ground is wet from the acidic rain the days before. I grab Henry's hand to keep him close to me. It is not unsafe for us to go outside, but it is always unprepared and unpredictable.

Henry picks up a stick and pokes around in the dirt, as we walk out to the sidewalk. There is no need to open the main gate of our property, it has already crumbled away from the exposure. Instead, we walk across the lawn. The asphalt of the streets beneath the sidewalk is cracked, grass sprouting between them and nettles and other plants are growing over the abandoned cars parked on the street. The houses along the sides are slowly falling apart - the weather anomalies are clearly showing their effects. There is a road sign overgrown with ivy and rust eating away at the metal. Near there, I know a supermarket, not far. It is still a long way, though, since we need to go around the burdens the Great Destruction has given us - that being a lot. Henry is already getting tired.

𝗧𝗼𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘄'𝘀 𝗟𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗕𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 | an apocalyptic novel ©Where stories live. Discover now