Paint the town red

Chapter XXVII

Saturday morning started with an alarm clock, because I promised to meet George and take him to the flight. It took me a couple of minutes to somehow wake up from the world of dreams and force myself to get out of bed. I felt like I got up, but I forgot to wake up. I don't know why I had such a condition, because I went to bed quite early for myself. Maybe Max was right and I did get infected from it? If so, I'll definitely head to his house tonight and stay there overnight, because since I'm already sick, I have nothing to lose, don't I? But all my strange hopes for the sickness gradually evaporated, and my usual condition took the place of a mild cold.

I figured I wouldn't shower now, I'd just wash up and have a cup of coffee, 'cause who knows, when I get back, maybe I'll go to sleep again? Everything is possible, even though I don't like to sleep during the day or get up too late.

After spending about ten minutes in the bathroom, I came out and went to the closet. It's not so warm outside in the morning, so I pulled out my favorite black hoodie and sweatpants of the same color. After getting dressed and trying not to make any noise so as not to wake my neighbor, I left my room and went into the kitchen. I told Yuki yesterday that I'd get up early, so he prepared the panforte in advance and left it on the table with a note for George. Therefore, after drinking some water before going for a meeting and grabbing a pie for a friend from the table, I left the house and went to our arranged place.

I checked my phone a few times on the way - what if something changed and George texted me about it? But no, there were no messages, so I walked along the familiar paths to our meeting place with a calm soul and a pie in my hands.

When I came, George wasn't there. It's strange, because I'm usually the one who's late, not my punctual British friend. I took out my phone to check the time and texts again, but there was no word from Russell. After waiting another ten minutes, I decided to text him myself.

Me:

"George, are you still sleeping or what?"

I sent a message, made sure it was delivered, and waited patiently for a response. But a minute passed, two, three, and there was still no answer.

Me:

"Russell, have you forgotten that you have a plane in the morning? Where the hell are you?"

I was waiting for a response from my friend again, but again I didn't get any. My subconscious began to throw me scary pictures of what could've happened to George, but I refused to give in to panic. Maybe he just overslept, and the phone is on silent? No, it's not like him at all.

It was getting cloudy outside and it was starting to rain a little, so I pulled on my hood and decided to walk to George's house to personally find out what was going on.

I was walking through the empty streets of the city and thinking about my own, I turned a corner and suddenly bumped into a young man about my height. He didn't say anything, but quickly hurried away. I couldn't see his face, because it was hidden by a deep hood, and on his face was a black medical mask - just to match his clothes. "Covid has affected everyone's brain," flashed through my head when I was already on the way to a friend's house.

When I got to his door, I knocked, but there was no answer. I pressed the bell button a couple of times and this trill would definitely have made him wake up, but again - there's no result. I took out my phone and started calling his number and listening for sounds outside the door, but I still didn't hear any signs of life. At that moment, I already felt a little uneasy - where did George go? Why isn't he answering? What the hell is going on?

I stood at his door for about ten minutes and if he is sleeping so soundly, then I can make him happy - he has definitely overslept the flight. Deciding to call him again, I heard police sirens nearby. Of course, this caught my attention, so I went in the same direction as the patrol cars were going.