Virus

Getting used to Life after

Day three of isolation. I've been staying in my room to escape my family, occupying my days by gluing on fake nails and watching anime. Sometimes I wish I could escape them, it's so tedious walking on eggshells around my brother so I don't start a fight, and my mother is a non stop talker about all the ways the government is going to try and brainwash us into taking a vaccine to control our mind or something.

On the first day of the apocalypse, I find myself doing what I had been planning for some time. At first only the elderly were at real risk. Which helped me dive into a fantasy that me and my old friend Anna used to speak of often, in which everyone over the age of fifteen disappeared. We had to bump up the age to 16 though, after a while. In the fantasy, nobody died, they were fine, transported to another dimension exactly the same to live out their lives as normal. I had liked to imagine that often, even after me and Anna had drifted apart. Imagining all of the things I would do and how I would survive with my friends gave me the escapism I needed to get through my perfectly normal, mundane existence.

The first thing on the agenda in my plan, was to drive to my friend Islay's house and begin the mad frenzy of stealing everything we wanted. So that is what I do. Canned goods rattle against the bars of the trolley I've trapped them in, as I continue to swipe them into my possession. Islay's in the next lane over, her two year old cousin in the trolley seat.

"Do we need these?" Kayla, Islay's twelve or thirteen year old cousin asks me, wiping away some tears. "Sure, pasta will keep for a while, I think." She nods, looking down at her shoes, and chucks it into her own metal cage. Then begins walking away after only having taken one, so I take the rest. It's only natural for her to be upset, but I myself am more conflicted with my imagining happening for years, to actually be set into motion.

Just then the song, Running in the 90's begins blasting at an entirely ferocious volume, I pick it up quickly in slight embarrassment. "Hello? Dara?" Dara, short for Andara, is another friend of mine, mainly because she put up with my weird antics when we first met, but now I put up with hers as she's gradually either come out of her shell, or she's become weird by all measures on her own. "Yeah." She mutters back. It's almost as if she's forgotten why she's called, but we have both discussed this sort of scenario before, so I know what to say. "So, do you still wanna do what we always said?" My voice wavers slightly, I really hope she does. "Yeah, ah, where are you? I guess we should get supplies, you know, to like, survive. And, can you believe how crazy this is..."

With that, the plan is decided, Dara is driving to Hunting and Fishing to steal. Well, as she said, supplies. Necessities, we might need weapons, who knows what could happen in a world run by teenagers? Or young people at that. We meet up with her in town afterwards for more.

Day six sees me having turned my bedroom into a closet and my closet into a bedroom. I've been reading books and doing homework in my underwear with the weekly supply of chips. More people have been passing than everyone seemed to think. But at least New Zealand is, as they say, 'flattening the curve'. I hope it works out, I miss my friends and daily schedule of school I so often resented.

I drive what was Islay's parents' campervan back to drop everyone at their houses so they can all pack. "Do you want me to help pack Arias things?" I ask Islay, "No that's okay, Kayla can do it." After a bit of silence, she says, "We do be vibing though." And hops out of the car, Aria on her hip. The curtain to her living room wavers a bit as she walks up to the house, I see a face pop out, and then dart back in to hide again. Dara, who's stolen the front seat, questions, "Is someone else in there? She has like, a brother, doesn't she?" I put the camper in gear and begin driving away, "Yeah, I think he'll be coming too. His name's Corban." I reply. "You drive like a grandma, go faster. So, how old is he?" She says as I put my foot down a little more. I raise an eyebrow, "Don't get any funny ideas, I think he's only a year younger than her. So... fifteen." She slumps back a little, pouting. "I wasn't getting any 'ideas', you're the one with the sick mind." I mutter whatever, and she's forced to retreat back into the end of the camper van, because a small tree we got from mitre 10 mega fell over.