Seeing Blind || Bird Box Fanfiction

kestrel

Kestrel shouldn't remember the last time she'd had a nightmare.

That was likely due to the fact that her entire life was a living nightmare, but that was besides the point. In fact, the more she thought of it, she couldn't even recall the last time she'd even had a dream.

They seemed like such mundane things, nightmares and dreams. They didn't matter, not in the world she lived in. All that mattered was 'the now', as she told herself whenever she slid the blindfold on. She didn't worry about tomorrow, about the past, about the the next week.

Only the now.

She diced away at the wild garlic she'd found, her fingers expertly holding the knife to avoid nicking her knuckles. She hummed merrily, without a care in the world.

There was a thumping on the floor, and she looked down to the white dog, who was looking widely up at her. "Yes, I know you're hungry." She chided, returning to the meal prep. The tail thumping continued, drawing forth the slightest smile on her lips.

She spiced up the rice with the tomatoes she grew outside and with the garlic, along with a dash of salt. It was plain, but it would do until she could get back out there again. She gave a plain bowl of rice to Clyde, who took no time inhaling the serving.

"That has to last you until tomorrow night, you oaf." Kestrel mused as she flopped onto the couch, drawing her novel onto her lap with the few hours of light left.

Tomorrow, she would go scavenging. She'd have to, with the barren cupboards and limited batteries left. Even her candles were dissolving.

She read until she couldn't see her novel any longer, long after she'd finished what was left of her meal.

The novel was about politics. She smiled throughout, a brow occasionally rising at some of the quotes. The simplicity of the life before was maddening, she decided.

She didn't bother saving her page as she chucked the novel across the room.

- - -

She awoke at dawn, just as she always did. She dressed swiftly, lacing up her knee-high boots and pulling the cargo jacket onto her frame.

Clyde watched her with wide eyes, as if sensing the urgency. She'd found Clyde three years ago, precisely one year after the plague had taken over. He was one of three puppies she'd found in a house. She'd nursed them all, but he had been the only one strong enough to survive.

He was the only other contact she had with living things. He had proved himself quite valuable, being immune to the plague. He was her eyes when she could not see.

She latched the leash onto the dog halter, giving it a tug to reassure herself it wouldn't come free. She then grabbed the biggest backpack in her possession and strapped it to herself, tightening the straps until it sat flush against her body. If she had to run, she couldn't be hindered.

Finally, she grabbed the black strip of cloth and covered her eyes, tying the knot behind her head. She wrapped the leash around her hand, limiting the length so that she could feel his every movement.

And then she opened the door to the outside.