EVELYN
Evelyn could barely remember a time when she had not felt alone. It had been over a week, maybe two since she'd seen another living soul. It was a depressing thought that tugged at the corner of her mind as she biked down the freeway, weaving between the rows of motionless cars trapped in gridlock as far as the eye could see. On the surface there was nothing out of the ordinary about the 7am traffic jam on the Trans-Canada Highway but that was as far as the illusion of normalcy went. A closer look and the cracks would start to show; the shattered windows, crumbling cell towers, and smell of death and decay in the air were just the beginning. The ghosts in this town were the ones they called "the soulless", some of whom still sat at the wheel as if waiting for the car ahead of them to move. Evelyn's eyes traced over their hollow, greying features and a shiver ran up her spine. How long have they been waiting? She wondered. It had been two years since the Blackout, but many had been infected before then. She struggled to shake the thought from her head, she knew where that kind of thinking would lead. It would lead back to Elliot, to Beth, to her parents and grandparents, to her cousins, and her aunts and uncles. They are alive. She told herself, letting the words become a mantra repeated with every pump of her feet on the pedals. They are alive. They are alive. They must be.
Evelyn's stomach growled as she steered up the exit 29 ramp towards the city. Her body had made a fair complaint, she hadn't eaten since the beginning of the night and now as the morning sun basked the city in gold, hunger and fatigue were ebbing at her strength. The wind stung her eyes like icy razor blades as she peddled down the road towards the twin set of gas stations just off the highway. She readjusted the mask covering her face, thankful for the warmth it provided against the crisp February wind. Her fingers ached numbly in her thin biking gloves, and she alternated pumping her hands in to fists against the handlebars. She knew she'd have to stop soon and rest.
A fallen utility pole had slashed through the roof of the gas station on her left, so she veered right. As she turned, her bike chain caught and suddenly, she found herself sprawling onto the concrete with a startled shriek. The asphalt tore holes in her already well-worn jeans and her palms burned where they had struck the ground. There was little time to recover. She could already hear it, the sound of a car door creaking open and the slow crunch of footsteps approaching her. Terrified to move, her eyes locked onto the reflection in the bumper of an old Honda in front of her. The creature that emerged from the car behind, was balding and dressed in a frayed business suit. His once-white collared shirt was yellowing and stained with blood. His empty, hollow eyes stared unseeingly out of sagging grey eye sockets as he shambled towards where Evelyn lay frozen in place. Breathe. She reminded herself. She forced herself to take a slow, controlled breath. She knew it was a fatal mistake to hold one's breath in the presence of the infected; no human alive could mask the panic of slowly running out of air and in this agitated state, even the slightest display of emotion could set them off. The hollow man shuffled around her, considering her like a predator stalking its prey. His behaviour caught the attention of a few others in their cars who opened their doors to peer out. She shut her eyes tight, desperately wishing she'd had the forethought to have put on her goggles as soon as the light had come up. The goggles had been an uncomfortable fit over her glasses but without them she had not been able to mask the fear in her eyes.
After several tense moments she risked opening her eyes, the hollow man seemed to have lost interest and was shuffling off, likely to find yet another aimless routine he'd once followed in life. The audience he'd attracted returned their attention back to sitting in unmoving traffic. Slowly, Evelyn peeled herself off the pavement and then picked up her bike. Her palms ached where they had struck the ground, and she could feel her pants growing damp from the graze on her knee. With the bike chain clanking against the pedal as she walked, Evelyn made her way towards the gas station.
The building had seen better days. The gas pumps had been emptied and destroyed long ago. The door to the small convenience store hung loosely on its hinges and glass was sprayed across the entrance. Even from the outside, Evelyn could tell that most of the stock would have been picked over already. She leaned her bike against the garage door, careful to avoid puncturing the tires on the broken glass shards and unshouldered her shot gun. Slowly, she poked the barrel through the doorway. The gun had been out of bullets for some time, but she figured it would be intimidating to any hostile survivors, and perhaps act as a blunt instrument to throw at the soulless. After confirming the coast was clear, she maneuvered into the store. There wasn't much selection. The leftover dairy products in the long since out of service fridge were growing a questionable green substance worthy of a science fair and it was clear any useful supplies the store had to offer had already been scavenged. Evelyn climbed over the toppled shelves towards the counter and reached under the glass to retrieve a handful of scratch lotto's. Thumbing through them, she carefully selected the one featuring an obnoxiously shiny image of a rabbit and then stored the rest. She produced a nickel from her pocket and traced her initials into the card. For good measure, she scratched the bonus slot. Winner! The card exclaimed in bold capital letters. Evelyn suppressed a smile; $20 held no value in this new reality. She circled back outside, and carefully tucked the card with her initials into the cashier's window. Like breadcrumbs, she'd left her initials scattered around the city, hoping that perhaps if she could not find them, her family might find her.
With a final glance at the lotto ticket shuddering in the breeze against the window frame, she climbed on top of the ice box and boosted herself onto the roof. Vancouver's temperamental weather had not been kind to the rooftop and water damage had left an abundant amount of leaks and puddles. Evelyn sighed. It would have to do. Finding a dry section of roof, she sat down and rolled up her pant leg to assess the damage from earlier. The graze was small and already had started to scab. She gave it a quick cleaning and spared a small bit of ointment from her provisions to keep it from getting infected before setting up camp. She set down her backpack and rummaged around for her radio. Placing it down on the roof beside her, she flicked the switch that caused the little device to blink to life. Turning the dial gently, she began scanning through the channels until finally, she found the station that she was looking for. With the comforting sounds of the radio static humming in the air, she got to work on her shelter. It didn't take long to prepare the single person tent and sleeping bag. She'd been doing this for the last two weeks and she had it down to an art.
"Good morning, Vancouver! It's Jonathan Johnson here, coming to you live and alive from the heart of our post-apocalyptic reality, Metropolis at Metrotown."
As the familiar voice crackled over the radio, Evelyn allowed herself to smile. It had been mere months since she'd first heard his voice on the air waves, a stranger reporting on an impossibly vast collection of records. Why anyone would think to host a radio show in the apocalypse was beyond her comprehension and it was a waste of resources to be sure, but strangely she found herself looking forward to tuning into his broadcast each day. She opened her pack and retrieved the can of beans from her backpack. After a quick glance to make sure the coast was clear, she pried open the lid with her swiss army knife and removed her face covering to shovel the unsatisfying beans into her mouth.
"Happy Valentine's Day by the way. You know what's crazy to me? The fact that such a trivial consumer holiday would survive the apocalypse. Go figure."
Evelyn smirked at the host's remarks. No one had ever called her a hopeless romantic, but she probably was one, after all, she couldn't deny that Valentine's Day was secretly her favourite holiday. She knew how dorky it sounded, but she'd always loved the pink and red, the flowers, balloons, the punny Valentine cards that non-ironically made her laugh and she loved eating all the chocolate she and her siblings could get their hands on. But most of all, she loved what Valentine's Day stood for. She loved that there was a day to celebrate the only real magic left in the world. She looked up and smiled at the old mall in the distance. She'd found a fallen sign pointing there a few days ago and after several wrong turns she'd finally spotted its silhouette in the distance. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she was in the right place.
"I'm no romantic, in fact far from it, but I'll give the people what they want. 88.3 is now your one and only stop for all your love song needs. We're talking love, loss and all those stupid feelings in between. First up we have "Escape" more popularly known as the "Pina Colada Song" by Rupert Holmes, a classic of 1979 and a perfect way to kick off my Valentine's Day broadcast. What better way to celebrate this ridiculous holiday than by playing a cute love song about a seriously messed up relationship," the voice continued, "but I'll let you be the judge of that." Suddenly, the sweet sounds of the old 70s pop song filled the air and Evelyn hummed along as she watched the sun come up.