The Apocalypse Blog
by Melanie Edmonds

Ben’s asleep finally, so I have some time. Everything is quiet except for the pounding in my head. I want to sleep, but I need to get this down first. For me, for Ben, and for those we found yesterday.

We had no problems getting to the building, or getting inside – the door had been forced open before we arrived. There were marks on the doorframe where a knife had pried it open, and Ben’s expression darkened. He led the way to the side of the foyer, ignoring the immoveable lifts and going straight for the stairwell. We went up quickly and quietly, and when I glanced back at the others, I saw a few of them quietly carrying a weapon in hand as they climbed. Just in case.

On the fifth floor, we peeled off into the corridor. It was terribly silent, not a creak of shifting girders nor a whisper of wind caressing the building. There was no sign of anyone inside, which was a relief in one way, but Ben didn’t seem comforted by that thought.

We found the door to apartment 504 locked and unmarked. I think that was the high point of the day; whoever had broken in downstairs had not invaded this home. Ben had a key to it, attached to the keyring buried at the bottom of his pack. I remember the sound of it sliding into the lock, snicking into place more snugly than anything has for us in a long time.

I looked at the others and Matt was at my elbow, murmuring that they would look for somewhere to settle down, maybe look for some supplies. Sax nodded in agreement and the rest of them moved off down the corridor. Dillon hesitated until I reassured him, then went to catch up with the others. Ben was already inside by then, oblivious to what we were doing, but he’s a private person and I don’t think he would have wanted the whole group watching this. I wasn’t going to leave him on his own, of course, and closed the door behind us.

The place didn’t smell good. My stomach dropped a foot and roiled uncomfortably; I’m getting far too familiar with that gagging aroma. From the line of his shoulders, rolling defensively, I knew the Ben recognised it too. I offered to look so that he didn’t have to, but he shook his head and pressed on. The lounge area was neat and tidy, and completely unoccupied, so we peeled off to look in the other rooms.

It was me who found his nephew. I didn’t even know he had a nephew, but he does. He did.

I didn’t need to touch the body to know that it was dead; there was a little blue-grey hand visible and that was all I needed. I just closed the door and tried to stop Ben from going in. He took one look at my face and pushed me out of the way; he had to practically lift me away so he could get to the door. I begged him not to go in there but he wasn’t listening.

He was four years old, just starting to become a little person. Ben said his name was Jamie. There was a pillow over the boy’s head and that somehow made it all worse, bringing with it the awful thought that someone had smothered him. Ben took the pillow off, as if that might undo the terrible act, and I wasn’t fast enough to stop him. I know that the shrunken face we saw didn’t look anything like the child that he had known, and I wish he hadn’t seen it. We couldn’t even pretend that he was sleeping.

I didn’t know what to do; it was too easy to get distracted by the sight of that tiny form in its train-patterned pajamas. I touched Ben’s hand, but he shook me off, then pushed me out of the way so he could storm out. He was shouting for his sister, Kim, as if she might be hiding, as if she might answer him, and burst angrily into the other bedroom.

She was there, lying on the bed, the same colour as her son. The bottle of sleeping pills spilt out of her hand told the story of how she chose to die, curled up on her side and hunched as if wrapped around a great pain.

Ben wouldn’t stop shouting at her, as if she could still hear him. Asking her how the hell she could do that to her own child, how dare she do that, and why, of all things, why. When he looked like he would grab and shake her, I got in the way and pushed him back, but he didn’t stop yelling. He was just a child, she had no right, how could she, how could she.

He didn’t stop until his voice shredded at the edges and ran out of strength. I could feel him shaking and tears were choking up his breathing, and finally he went where I asked him to. I pulled him out of that room and away from the sight of his sister, and then he collapsed on me, clinging and crying.

The others had heard the commotion and came running. They stopped at the door and I waved them away, trying to assure them silently that there was nothing they could do. They didn’t come in, choosing not to intrude while I comforted Ben as best I could. I’m so grateful to them for giving him the space. They didn’t need to ask what was wrong; it was what all of us feared we would find when looking for our families.

It took a while for him to calm down. Eventually I managed to get him sitting on the couch and we talked. He told me about Kim and Jamie, and cried in a small, broken way. I cried too; who wouldn’t, watching him struggle like that and knowing that there isn’t any making it better. Knowing how what we found today has tainted his memories of his family, of a sibling and a nephew.

It was growing dark by the time he felt strong enough to leave the apartment. Before we left, we wiped our faces and I tried to tidy him up a little bit. To preserve his pride in front of the others; he wouldn’t want them to see him in such a mess. They had found us a couple of apartments downstairs that were comfortable and clean; and, more importantly, empty. They let us have one of the bedrooms and some privacy. I stayed with him; I didn’t quite dare leave him alone.

It was a rough night. Neither of us got any sleep, nor managed to make much sense of it. We cried until our heads hurt and forgot to eat. His emotions came in waves: anger and sorrow, frustration and despair. I spent all of today trying to get Ben to eat something or get some rest, and I only just succeeded in the latter of those. We’re going to use the kitchen here to make a hot meal when he wakes up.

I’m so tired now that I hardly know what to think. I feel wrung out, stepped on and sucked dry. I should get some sleep while I can, while he’s quiet. Even when he’s sleeping, I can see the tears on his cheeks.

This morning, everyone wanted to move on. I don’t blame them; that apartment building was a depressing place to be, and I know that Ben is only too aware of what lies on the floor above us. I suggested it to him and he agreed easily enough – a little too easily, perhaps.

When we were packing up, Sally came over and drew me aside. She said that she had gone back up to the apartment to see if there was anything that Ben might want. Photos, knickknacks, old family jewellery. It’s the sort of thing that I should have thought of, so I felt both grateful and as if I had failed him in some way. I want to say that I’ve been too busy sitting with him through his upset, but that feels like an excuse.

Sally gave me a little package and a note. She said that she had found the note in the bedroom next to Kim’s bed. Then she left me alone with it. When I looked at it, I saw why and went to show it to Ben. I knew it would upset him, but he needed to see it, with its shaky handwriting and tenuously offered answers.

I don’t know if there’s anyone left out there to find this. It seems like the whole world is dead or gone crazy.

Hugh has been gone for nearly a week. He was only supposed to be gone for a few hours, a day at the most. At first I thought he was just delayed; it’s been so long now that I don’t think he’s coming back. My husband and best friend is gone; I think he’s is dead. I would have gone after him, but the gangs tore through the streets below. I saw them kill a man in cold blood. I couldn’t take my baby out into that.

Please know that this isn’t what I wanted. I had no choice. My boy was starving and I couldn’t watch his pain any more. He wouldn’t stop crying and looking at me to make it better. I’d do anything for him. I’ve tried everything. I’ve given him my share of what we had, but it still wasn’t enough. I broke into the other apartments to find more food and water, but there was only so much to find and that all ran out too. It’s all gone now.

My baby was dying and the only thing I could do for him was to end his pain. Please forgive me, Jamie. I did it because I love you. God, forgive me for this; I don’t know what else to do. There’s nothing left and everyone is gone. It’s time for me to go too.

I’ll see you in Heaven, baby. I love you.

It made him cry again. The next thing I knew, he was howling in anger and had put a dent in the wall with his fist. He wouldn’t stop – he just kept hitting it until he was leaving bloody smears on the plasterboard and had made a couple of holes. I didn’t want to get in the way; I was going to let him vent until I saw the blood. Then I tried to catch at him, tried to stop him from beating his hands until they were broken.

He almost hit me. I saw it in his face, that wildness that reminded me of Thorpe when he was lost in his rage and pain. Instead, he grabbed me and slammed me against the wall. I looked him in the eye, trying to make a connection with him, trying to reach him.

“I know,” I told him. “I know. But you need to stop this.” It was all I could think of to say.

It was enough. I saw his fury falter, and then he let go of me and crossed the room so that he could slide heavily down to the floor. He put his head in his hands and it was quiet again.

I packed the note and the package that Sally gave me into my bag. I think Ben will want them eventually, so I’ll carry them for him for now. When I was done, I sat down where I was, giving him space.

It was a little while before he seemed calm enough for me to go to. I cleaned his hands up and wrapped his knuckles, wiped his face and helped him up. Then he hugged me so tight I thought one of us would break again. He was stony-faced and blank when we finally went out to join the rest of the group. There was something terribly defeated in the tramp of our boots down the stairs to the ground, and all of us stopped and looked back at it.

I’m not sure what we were looking for. I don’t know how many of us were wondering how many families had ended that way, how many had chosen a quick death over a long fading. I know that I was. And I was trying not to think about my dad.

Abruptly, Ben broke off to head back inside the building. I went to go after him, but he told me not to; he said he needed to do something alone. I didn’t know what else to do, so I stopped and stood with the others. After the door closed behind him, Matt came over to see if I was all right, and I felt like crying all over again. The only answer I could give him was a helpless shrug. I never knew Ben’s sister or her son, but I feel like I’m grieving for them anyway; that hollow ache inside reminds me of when my own sister died.

Ben was gone almost half an hour. We were all getting restless by then and Thorpe looked like he was thinking about going in there to see what was going on. He has been more patient than I had expected through all of this; he understands, I think. He sympathises, in his way.

When Ben finally opened the door, a coil of smoke escaped with him. His face was closed as he told us to move to the other side of the street, and we soon saw why. The smoke multiplied, escaping through any crevice it could find, and then it was backlit by flames. He had turned the whole building into their funeral pyre. The irony of a fireman setting such a blaze didn’t escape me, but I didn’t mention it.

Instead, I asked Sax to sing for us, for Kim and Jamie. And he did, his warm voice rolling out Amazing Grace as the flames ate their way up through the empty homes to where Ben’s family lay sleeping. We watched as it choked the sky with thick, black smoke, and moved further away as the building collapsed in on itself. There were only bones left when we turned our backs on it and left it behind.

• Theme song: Amazing Grace, Amazing Grace

Ben has been very quiet today. I remember what it was like when Chastity died, how much I needed to adjust to thinking of her gone, how hard it was. I remember hating it when people would ask how I was all the time – how did they think I was, really? – even though I knew that it was the only thing they could think of to say to me. I remember dreading that look in their eyes, the pity for such a loss that was expecting to see me break down any moment.

So I tried not to do those things. I tried not to ask, not to watch him for those moments when he faltered. I stayed near him, in case he needed anything, but didn’t expect anything from him. I tried to give him space to do what he needed to. I talked to him about other things, about where we were going and what we needed to do when we got to the mall, the next mark on our map. He didn’t get involved much, but that’s okay.

The rest of the group have been good about this stuff. All of them except Masterson, who made a remark about the fireman starting a fire. Thorpe looked like he was going to smack him and Alice said something nasty, so the doctor subsided. I don’t think Ben even noticed. I would have expected Masterson to understand – he lost his wife and child, after all – but I guess his need to snipe at everyone supercedes any sympathy that might flash past that brain of his.

Dillon has been very attentive, mostly to me; I think he’s a little bit afraid of Ben. I also suspect that he was nudged into coming over to give me water by someone he looks up to, someone who isn’t eager to show his softer side. It was nice to talk to the kid, and to talk about something else. He’s having trouble dealing with Alice; she doesn’t react to things the way she used to, and he struggles to know what to say to her. Reminiscing tends to end with grumpy words about everything being different now and she doesn’t respond well to jokes.

I told him to give her time to get more comfortable with all of us, give her time to relax. I’m not sure she ever truly will again, but what else can the poor kid do? We’re all learning to live by different rules these days.

We didn’t cover much ground yesterday but we managed to make better time today. The lack of talking speeds us up, I think, though I miss it. Sax is coughing more today; I think the singing and the smoke that washed over us made it worse.

We should reach the mall tomorrow morning. I hope that it hasn’t been looted too thoroughly; there are things that we all need. There wasn’t much of anything of use in Kim’s apartment building (she really had used up all the supplies), so we need to find more food and water soon. Hopefully there’s a furniture store, too – I’d love to sleep in a proper bed right now. I need to close my eyes and hope my dreams are kind to me.