When life throws different people into the middle of an apocalypse and the end of the world approaches, it's a matter of survival for all of them.
This is the story of the survivors, those who have seen their loved ones die to protect them. The one...
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My body was burning. With every movement, I felt each of those scars slowly open up, bending to the rhythm at which my skin moved. I could feel the burns on my thighs itching. The straps that held me to the table were beginning to loosen because I'd lost so much weight. As I did every day, I stretched my arms, then rolled my ankles. I could feel my muscles going numb. The longer I stayed locked up in that dark room, the more I felt like I was losing my physical strength. Every movement was painful. From my toes to my skull, everything hurt. It was so dark I didn't know if it was day or night. Always the same brightness, the same temperature, the same heaviness in that room. As soon as I was alone, all that darkness came crashing down on me. As I moved my arms, I felt the needles pierce my skin. I couldn't remember how many tubes were connected to my body, maybe one or two, maybe dozens.
I still wanted to sleep, it would make the time go by faster. I closed my eyes. Sliding my fingers along the leather strap that held the palms of my hands. The soft texture was the only comforting thing about this white prison. I forced my eyelids to go back to sleep. My body was waking up, as if automatically, and I was struggling to stop it. Then the light came on. I could see it through my eyelids. I knew that when I opened my eyes I'd see that same nurse, smiling at me in that embarrassed, forced way before changing the needles. I wish I hadn't woken up today, I wish I hadn't even seen her. My arms had started to tremble when she'd removed the needles from my veins. It hadn't really hurt since I'd realised how badly my body was bruised. When I opened my eyes, I met her apologetic gaze. For the last few visits, she'd been wearing a hospital mask over her face. Her white uniform remained the same and it had been months since she'd lost her first name. A number was embroidered on her chest. Her employee card was tucked away in her jacket pocket. Her blouse buttoned all the way up, and her lips pursed as soon as she touched me. As always, she had removed the needles one by one to disinfect them. She'd put in new ones, the one with the purplish liquid, and for the first time, she'd added a pouch with a black liquid.
"Hi there." She'd forced me to keep them open to look at them, the light sport in my retina forcing me to concentrate on her face. She looked even more tired today.
I couldn't answer, the oxygen mask covered my whole face, and I was still struggling to articulate. My veins were swelling, I could feel them vibrating under my skin. My head was vibrating too. It was getting heavy. My eyes hurt. This woman continued to observe my body, checking that all these little tubes were correctly installed. She had disinfected some of them. Then she started checking my scars one by one. I didn't understand this part of her meticulous routine, it didn't make any sense. I was their prisoner, they'd told me that enough times for me to understand. When I'd found the strength to open my eyes, I looked up at the ceiling. Every line of the ceiling tiles blurred, I watched the air vents and imagined the day when I could escape. But my body wasn't ready. I was in pain. I couldn't remember what I was like before. So when I met that woman's eyes, I wondered if she'd been told to watch out for me. I didn't know if I was the only one suffering so much. Every day I saw liquid in those pouches, sometimes blue or purple, most of the time transparent. I didn't eat anything solid any more, just the nutrients in those pouches. All embedded in my veins as if I couldn't feed myself. Then they'd try to make me talk, maybe it hadn't been for that for a long time, but they'd always come back to test me.
"They're coming in today. They want to talk to you about your band."
She expected me to react but I had nothing to say. I was stuck there, like a vegetable, watching these strangers take care of me. I couldn't even work out whether they were trying to keep me alive to get information or whether they wanted to kill me quietly and slowly. The nurse had combed my hair, running her fingers through the black strands stuck to my forehead by the dirt. Sometimes she washed me, often after they had come to hurt me. She used a hot towel to rub it over those fresh cuts. I could still imagine that feeling holding me to life. Then I closed my eyelids again. They were drugging me to soothe my wounds. Perhaps also to counteract these symptoms, I realised they were infecting me. They'd deliberately put the virus in those tubes, probably to find out how it worked. Eventually the light went out. I hadn't been able to fall asleep. I'd been drugged to stay calm, and it had worked. I thought about the people I loved and hoped I'd find them soon. I stretched my body, hoping to soothe the itching and pain, but to no avail. Maybe hours later, maybe just a few minutes, the light came back on. She had warned me, so I knew they were coming back. Their military boots clattered on the tiles. Once the six of them were through that door, they'd go on. First they'd take off the oxygen mask and try to get me to talk. I don't think I'd talked to them, I think I'd managed to keep it all in. But everything was getting so fuzzy that I could have told them anything about those kids. My head was spinning so much. I was in so much pain. When I opened my eyes, they blinked from the light on my face. They'd all pulled out their weapons, which they'd use to slash my skin. As if to make me talk they had to hurt me. They hoped that I would tell them my greatest secrets, about myself and my loved ones, but the truth was that I didn't even know who I was any more. They hadn't come for days. Their leader's piercing eyes had looked right through me. As if he could read through my weaknesses. As if I was going to suffer again today. My body didn't react. I would have liked to be scared, to want to escape, to just leave, but my body wouldn't react. I was trapped by all those straps, their eyes on me before they used violence to make me talk. The truth was that I couldn't remember my life before. I no longer knew the names of those around me. I couldn't even see their faces.
That time, they didn't start with questions. One of the younger soldiers approached me. They removed the oxygen mask from my face to let me speak. I struggled to swallow my saliva. He was slowly unrolling a poster. I could hardly keep my eyes open. I wasn't afraid of them any more. They thought they could get to me by attacking these people, but I didn't recognise anyone any more.
So when that young man showed me that face on the poster and asked me: "Do you know him? I shook my head slowly.
I shook my head slowly. "Never seen him before."
"Never?"
"Never." And they laughed. As if their plan had worked, I'd answered their questions correctly for the first time, and I didn't think that was a good sign for me.
• • • Just moved out of my flat! I can't believe I graduated 😭 Anyway! Here's a short chapter, can you guess who it is? We have two contestants here, but I think it's kinda obvious! I'm trying really hard to continue writing and posting it soon xx
