LOCKDOWN

Chapter 13

" — increase of over one thousand confirmed cases in the last twenty four hours. Health care workers are working desperately to stop the spread of this deadly virus and keep it contained, but have not yet reached such luck. Our death toll is steadily climbing with over one hundred death in the last fifty hours."

"The government has now implemented harsher punishments to people who leave their residence. Anyone who needs to leave their home must inform the government using the hotline provided, and will need to be escorted from their premises. Anyone who fails to do so will be executed."

A government spokesperson appeared on the screen.

"We are aware that these are extreme measures, but in these times we cannot afford to take any risks. People who risk exposing themselves to this virus, therefore risking the greater population, must be eliminated. We do not have the funding or the resources to be testing every individual, therefore we have had to make the tough decision to execute anyone who fails to adhere to these new laws."

"Executed?" Zara gasped, "Surely not..."

"A positive response has come from the care packages delivered by the Australian Army last week. New packages have been dispatched and are being delivered as we speak to suburban areas of each states capitals. Rural areas can expect their packages within the next two days."

"So we should be getting our package today?" Zara reiterated.

"Seems like it," I replied mindlessly, my gaze focused on the images of overpopulated hospitals being shown on the TV.

As if on cue, there were three loud knocks at the front door, accompanied by Dennis' loud barks as he ran towards the front of the house.

"Can you hold him again, please? I'm not strong enough," Zara asked me.

I nodded and grabbed Dennis around his broad chest, dragging him back into the living room and squashing him between my legs and the couch. I could hear Zara thanking the man for the package and closing the door, then emerging through the archway struggling to carry a large box. I quickly jumped up and ran to help her, taking it from her with ease and placing it on the coffee table.

We rummaged through it together, pulling out each item individually and placing them in piles based on where they needed to go in the house. Once we had put away everything that had been delivered, I finally had the chance to change out of the clothes Zara had given me and into the new clothes that had been delivered.

"I'm just gonna..." I trailed off, lifting the clothes up to show her where I was going.

The army had provided five pairs of track pants, underwear, and five t-shirts. They were all khaki green and cotton. I felt much more myself when I was wearing them in comparison to the clothes that Zara had given me. Even though they were just track pants, I still felt much more comfortable in men's clothing.

When I made my way back down the stairs, Zara was exactly where I had left her, curled up in the couch with Dennis, her eyes glued to the TV.

"I can't believe they're actually executing people..." she whispered.

I snatched the remote off the coffee table and quickly exited the news, pulling up the TV menu and clicking on the Netflix icon. Her anger with me seemed to have been forgotten in the whirlwind of updates and deliveries, and as awful as the updates were, I was glad they came as a distraction.

"Hey!" she scolded, "I was watching that!"

"Yeah, and getting upset over it!" I retorted. "We're safe here, our friends are safe, our families are safe. We don't have to worry. Now choose one of your fluffy Netflix shows to watch."

I threw the remote at her and she caught it, and I could see her trying to hide the knowing smile on her face. I sat on one of the reclining sofa chairs and watched as she scrolled through the 'Romantic Comedies' category on Netflix, settling on 'To All The Boys I've Ever Loved Before'.

"No," I said, "Absolutely not."

"Oh, come on!" she whinged, "Why not?"

"Because it's trash."

"You told me to pick something, so I did," she reasoned, and I huffed in response.

"Give it half an hour. If you still don't like it, then we can watch something else," she said.

"Fine," I sighed, folding my arms across my chest and bracing myself for the tragedy that was this terrible movie.

I was literally counting down the minutes from the second she pressed play. As soon as my phone ticked over to 2:37pm, I quickly snatched up the remote from the coffee table and paused it.

"Oi!" she yelled at me, trying and failing to take the remote back out of my hands.

"I gave it half an hour. It still sucks. We're watching something else!" I said, ignoring her protests as I exited the movie and clicked on the documentary category.

"I'm not watching some boring documentary about food or politics," she complained, throwing herself back on the couch grumpily.

"Nope, we're watching 'Making a Murderer'!" I said.

"No, we're not!"

I glanced towards her and saw her back pressed flat against the back of the couch, her posture now awfully straight. She was glaring at me fearfully, more-so than she had been at the TV when learning of the virus updates.

"Yes, we are. I had to endure half an hour of that shit you called a movie, now we get to watch what I want to watch," I said, pressing play on the documentary series.

"No!" she yelled loudly, standing up and ripping the remote aggressively out of my hands. She turned the TV off, throwing the remote on the couch.

"Scaredy cat," I teased, "Just watch it."

"I'm not fucking watching it, Peyton!" she growled.

"Why not?" I pressed further, eager to learn why on earth she was so adamantly against watching such an interesting documentary. 

"Because my dad was murdered!"

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AUTHORS NOTE
Dun dun dun! Did you expect that? Let me know your thoughts on this chapter!