Days Gone By
2009. Happy New Year.
New year, new start, resolutions, parties and poppers and fireworks. It’s supposed to be such a time of hope, but the world is broken. A part of me is scared that the world ended with 2008 and that there is nothing else now. I’m trying not to listen to that part, but its voice is there, niggling at me like mouse teeth.
There were no fireworks last night, just acid rain falling from a scorched sky while the sun retreated. All the familiar things have melted away, although a few of us did raid the café’s bar and get quite drunk. To forget, to numb ourselves, to blur the mental images of dissolving people. It was anything but a celebration.
Today, everyone was quiet. Even Simon; he has slipped into unconsciousness now, I think. His fever is worse and he’s not moaning any more. I think we’re all missing Delaine’s complaining, too, as annoying as it was. He said what none of us felt brave enough to. He made us stronger by giving us someone to argue with.
No-one wants to do anything. Without Carter, we have no direction, no-one telling us what we need to do next. The dregs of us are left here, looking at each other or at nothing at all. It was like some strange staring competition, and I think I lost.
It was Dillon’s face that did it. He was looking at me for direction again, like he did that first day up in the city. Thorpe is lost in his own world; he hasn’t spoken to anyone since the rain started and took his friends away. Ben keeps trying to talk to him, but he’s having no luck at all. Sally won’t stop rocking and rubbing her arms; they’re almost raw now. Sax is cradling Nugget like she’s a favourite childhood toy.
So I sent Dillon off on an errand. The first thing I could think of: fetch as many bottles of water and soft drinks as he could find and carry. With strict instructions not to stray away from cover and to keep an eye on the sky.
Then others were looking at me with Dillon’s eyes. I remembered then why I was so grateful for Carter’s presence, I remembered how relieved I was when those fire trucks first turned up. It was so I didn’t have to do this any more. So I didn’t have to take responsibility, so I didn’t have to shoulder up the weight of all these people.
The only things I could think of to do was sort out food and water. Dillon was on the water, so I sent Sally and Ben to go look at the food situation. I didn’t know what to do with the others, or myself. I don’t know what I’m doing at all. I’m floundering, grasping at whatever scraps of sense I can. All I can think of to do is carry on with the path that Carter had set us on – get together a plan to get to the hospital.
The stuff that Carter and Trevor had collected was lying out in the street, next to their clothes. I didn’t dare to touch their clothes. It’s hard to say why; I think I was afraid of what I might find in them. Would it be worse for there to be something left under there, or nothing at all? I wanted to look just so I stop wondering, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. And more than that, it seemed disrespectful to go peeking in there. They were people. They were friends, as little as I knew them. It just didn’t seem right.
The rain hadn’t scorched the things they had been bringing back for us, apart from what I think used to be paper. It had all dried overnight and didn’t carry any acid (I tested that very nervously with a stupid finger), so I brought it inside. We’ll look at it tomorrow and go from there. I don’t think I can get us moving today.
It started raining again about half an hour ago. I lost it a little bit, running around and making sure that everyone was inside. Checking we were all right, looking into everyone’s faces for a trace of the lawyerlady’s eyes. Dillon was back by then; we were all here. They probably all think I’m crazy now.
Then all there was to do was wait and listen to it hissing down. I tried to think of things we could busy ourselves with, but there’s nothing. My mind won’t work like that today.
So here I am, trying not to listen to the rain, trying not to wonder how many were caught out in it yesterday, trying not to wonder how many strayed out into it today. Trying to forget about the ache in my arm and the sore lip where Thorpe punched me.
I keep coming back to the fact that it’s New Year’s Day today. It makes my hands shake and this aching lump twist in my chest. The date has changed and the past is gone now; we’ll never get it back. None of it.
It hurts to look back, to think about the past week and everything that has come tumbling down. Trying to look back at what came before that is worse, because it feels like a dream. This – all of this – should be the part that feels like a nightmare (and it does), but it’s the normal stuff that’s slipping away from me. I don’t want to look backwards any more. We’re supposed to be raising a glass to days gone by today.
My glass is hollow; the bottom has fallen out of it.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll take a cup of kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
Tags: Ben, Carter, Dillon, Thorpe
- Category: 03. Aftermath,Uncategorized
