How To Lose Weight And Survive The Apocalypse

Chapter 9

"God, I miss my phone."

"I miss TV. I'll never know how The Walking Dead ends."

"I miss iTunes."

"Ew, who would miss that garbage fire? I miss Spotify."

"I miss Uber Eats."

"I'm a Menulog person myself."

"I miss all food delivery."

"I miss porn."

"Oh my god, I hadn't even thought about porn!"

"Crusty collections of ancient Playboys are about to skyrocket in value."

"Gross. I miss E-Bay. And Amazon. And Wish. And-"

"It's been less than two days," interjected Simon, leaning forward to throw another log on the bonfire. "You young people could just pretend that we're camping instead of whinging."

"There's no 'pretend' here. This is camping." I gestured around at our campsite, a gaggle of small tents around the bonfire we'd built. We'd found a fresh water creek running nearby and had splashed our faces and refilled our bottles, before adjourning to the camp fire and eating a tin of soup each, heating the cans hobo-style over the flames. My belly rumbled for more, and I was glad when Simon threw us each a small block of dark chocolate he'd squirreled away

The experience still felt novel, like an adventure rather than a permanent way of life. Mischa had fallen into bed an hour ago, but the adults lingered by the fire, staring at the coals and chatting chirpily, throwing treats to Bella until she curled up inside her carrier.

We were just whistling in the dark though; looking for distraction from the horror of what we'd seen in the carpark earlier that day. Every time I closed my eyes or the conversation stalled, I saw the spray of blood from the back of the cop's head, and a cold sweat formed on my skin. Normally there'd be a series to binge or something to podcast, anything to give our brains a break. Instead, we half-heartedly listed off what we missed about our old lives as if they were years behind us rather than less than 48 hours ago.

"God, I'm bored," said Nev. She stood and stretched, her perky breasts pushed up until they almost touched her chin. I noticed Bailey watching her, longing written all over their face.

Nev settled in front of Bailey and leaned back on their legs. "Some tell us a story," she demanded.

"Uh... I can recite Aladdin word for word, if that helps," I said. "The animated one, not the Will Smith one."

"No, not that kind of story. Like a story about people's lives." Nev blinked her large eyes, her lashes still thick and camel-like without the benefit of mascara. "Like, I'm spending all day every day for weeks with youse- you guys. Don't you think we should know more about each other?"

The fire crackled as we awkwardly stared at one another. Then Bailey coughed and said, "Yeah, okay. What do you want to know?"

"Oo, yay." Nev clapped and turned to face Bailey. "You're right, we need a theme. How about... 'the one who hurt me?'"

"That's a very long list," said Bailey, deadpan. "If I start that story, we might never get out of here."

"Please, Bailey?" She stroked their knee, and I saw Bailey's jaw tighten, desire and frustration building behind their eyes.

"Fine." They shrugged and gave in, then cast their eyes to the sky, searching for the words. "It's hard to pin it down to 'one.' It's my whole family, but since my dad is the head of the household, I guess it's him. Although, he answers directly to Jesus apparently, so maybe it's the Lamb of God who I should really hold responsible."