Genesis

Day 35

She carefully lifted the edge of the dark curtain from the hastily-boarded up window, crouching slightly to peer through a crack. The outside world was much different from the one she'd grown accustomed to. Inside, the air was stale and carried the faint smell of disinfectant. Outside, the air was fresh but she knew smelled of blood. Inside, things were relatively calm. Outside, the world was chaos.

She knew it was safer for her to be inside. Yet, she still, somewhere deep inside her soul, wished she could go outside. Even if just for a little bit. In a safe place, of course. Not in her front yard—even though it had a fence around it, there were still sometimes Virals milling around. Today, for instance, there were two in her yard and about six more outside of it. It was the same scene as it always was—an overturned car in front of the Petersons' driveway, three more abandoned cars down the road and an abandoned bicycle in front of their gate; bloodstained with a long line of old blood trailing away and stopping at half a dead body. The only thing that remained untouched, eerily enough, was the little white church down a ways, where, in the courtyard, stumbled a little dead girl; her pigtails in ruins and blood matting the side of her face.

"You shouldn' look out there." From behind her, Jedidiah rose from the couch and spoke. She dropped the curtain and turned around, her hands behind her back and pressing against the wall.

"Why shouldn' I?" she asked, frowning.

"Atticus," Jedidiah began, "Atty. Ya know why. It makes everythin' harder on y'." Atty made a face and shook her head.

"It doesn'. I jus' miss the fresh air. It helps t' look outside." Jedidiah sighed, leaning heavily on his cane. He moved forward and lifted the curtain for himself. After a moment and a sigh of disgust, he dropped it.

"Don' look out there," he said. Atty opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by loud coughing from further into the house.

"Is it that bad?" Atty whispered. Jedidiah nodded slowly and Atty immediately left, leaving the older Southern man to himself in the old living room.

Atty threw open the door with an 'X' on it, holding her breath to prepare herself. She knew what she'd find inside. It was always the same thing. A forest-green and pale-green room with fairy lights and paper lanterns and paintings of faeries and forestry. The same old vase of dead lilacs on the bed side table. And the same two individuals. On the chair next to the bed was always Ronny. He hardly left anymore; the blonde man slowly withering away as he clutched his twin's hand. On the bed was Remmy, pale and sweat-covered, her eyes half-lidded, her veins a deep blue against the paper-thin skin of her body. She was in the midst of a coughing fit, her body shaking tremendously but barely disrupting the sheets.

"Oh. Hey, Atty," came Ronny's tired voice. He barely glanced up from his twin's body.

"How's she doin'?" Atty asked, moving just a little bit further into the room. Ronny raised a single shoulder.

"Not very good. She's mostly out of it anymore. When she's not, she's delusional." Atty's lips drew into a thin line as her breath caught in her throat. It was hard on Atty to watch her sister become sicker and sicker, but she wasn't really related to the twins. It wasn't nearly as hard on her as it was on Ronny.

"Do you need anythin'?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. Ronny shook his head.

"Nothin' you could do. I jus'—I wish so many things, y'know? I wish Remmy'd never got cancer. I wish the world never'd end. I wish my ma hadn't died. I wish Jedidiah wasn' dying an-" He stopped speaking. Remmy had gone still. "Remmy?" he whispered. He leaned closer, pressing his ear to his sister's chest. Remmy?" He felt for a pulse, any. He listened for breathing and waited for her chest. to rise. "Oh, God, Remmy! Don't you die! Don't you die on me!" He frantically administered CPR, attempting to bring back his twin. His confidant. His closest companion. But it was useless. Tears streamed down his face as he screamed, collapsing next to the bed, his hands uselessly entangled in Remmy's.