Apocalypse

9

Kate

The clouds hung over the barn for the rest of the day. We took turns sleeping because we didn't want to risk being caught unaware. I told Liz to sleep first. I could manage another couple hours without rest, but she was beginning to trip over her feet and slur her words. So I tugged a blanket out of my already crammed bag, and gave it to her. She took it with a thankful look, spread it out on the hay, and she passed out on it in seconds. I sat by her as she slept, mostly cause the only other remotely comfortable place to sit was with the horse, and frankly, he smelled like horse. So I sat by Liz. I'd been very wrong about managing to stay awake a few more hours. Exhaustion pounded inside my skull and I fell asleep after thirty minutes of struggling to keep my eyes open. I had another dream about my cell. I was trapped inside it as some black, sticky, liquid filled it slowly. It got into my mouth and my eyes and my ears. I couldn't see or hear anything. I couldn't breathe. The sound if the scientists laughter filled my head. Panic filled my chest and I couldn't think.

Liz woke me up again. She was shaking my shoulder, looking around the barn looking scared. It was so dark, I could barely see anything except her because she was so close. I sat up and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. It might has well have been a dark room, for all I could see. The panic disappeared as I saw her face, as scared as it was, and I could breathe again. I had to double check that there was no black liquid. The dream had felt so real. But it wasn't.

"What's wrong?" I asked, looking at her with concern. I wondered if maybe she'd seen or heard an infected. It was too dark to see anything but her face in front of mine a foot or so away. It was like the darkness was trying to choke us both.

"I'm sorry. It's just-- the thunder. It's always freaked me out but tonight--"

As she said it, I realized that the rain outside was coming down hard. Hard enough to be pushing up a spray from the drops and make a constant roaring noise on the wooden roof of the barn. She was cut off as a loud crack of thunder made the walls rattle and the horse whinny. Liz gave up talking and pushed herself up against the hat bale and covered her ears. The wind howled menacingly against the walls and made them creak and groan in protest.

"Does thunder scare you?" I asked, having to speak up to be heard over the rain.

She nodded and her eyes locked with mine as she spoke. Her eyes looked black in this light, and the fear made them sharp and alert. I felt a shiver go down my spine.

"I try not to be but..." She trailed off, and her eyes darted to the door and I felt a small wave of relief.

I just nodded, and I leaned up against the hay bale next to her. I flicked on a flashlight and we watched the horse go about munching his hay and wander around his enclosure nervously whenever thunder would shake the walls. We'd been sitting for almost half an hour when there was a sudden crack-boom that made Liz jump so badly that her shoulder hit mine hard enough to hurt.

She let out a shaken breath closed her eyes. I wanted to help but I wasn't sure how. I shook my head and then looked back at the gelding. It bothered me that I had no way to help when she was upset like this. I knew traditionally, comforting words and maybe a hug would have been sufficient. But I didn't know what comforting words sounded like, and I've never hugged anyone in my entire life. Well. I had. But that was before the facility and I'm not even sure the memory is real any more. The idea of trying to hug Liz just put my stomach in knots. I can't see a hug being very helpful if I needed to let go after two seconds.

So we just sat and we watched the gelding.

The storm didn't get any better though, it just got louder and more violent outside. Liz had tucked herself right into a corner and had her knees up to her chest and her face hidden in her arms. I was about to try and sleep again, and trying to ignore my growing urge to try and 'comfort' Liz, when I noticed the gelding had stopped pacing. He was staring at the door. He had been at peace just a minute ago despite the raging storm outside. Something was wrong, but I realized it too late.