ContamiNation

Fallout

Carris

It was almost dark. From the top of the school I could see for miles in every direction. Surprisingly, during all the chaos I never looked around; the fires, the destruction. The farthest I could see was just orange and yellows, I hoped that was from the sunset not a house fire; or worse.

Diamma was still sitting on the field. Chris had gone out and sat with her for a while, talked. But even he left a while ago. She just sat there, alone, staring into the sun. I felt bad but I knew that's what she wanted. I wanted the opposite; I wanted someone to hold me. But the guys here are more of Diamma's style not mine. They wouldn't know how to comfort me even if I told them step by step what I wanted—if I knew what I wanted anyways. Giev tried but I felt claustrophobic when he held me, I let him hold me when Diamma was breaking down—we caught just the end of it, that scream was heartbreaking, something you'd expect from a mom who's child just died—because I needed anything and I was shaking so bad he basically carried me back to the school.

I had to go to her soon, at least to make sure she'd be safe for the night. Before I could she'd already left. I hadn't seen her leave. Watching the burning horizon, letting myself get lost in thoughts.

"Where'd you put all the chargers?" I asked Phil. He was the only person I'd seen so far. The school wasn't even that big, how'd everyone suddenly disappear?

"They're in the caf. Might wanna hurry up though, I don't think the electricity is going to stay on for much longer, unless it's out, don't use the portables." He started down the stairs.

"Wait," He turned. "Is everyone charging their phones too?"

He looked confused, "No, why? Except for you, no one has anyone they'd want to talk to."

"Tell them to charge their phones and shut them down. I'll need them if mine dies. Also I think Chris has unlimited texting, I want that." He nodded and I let him off.

In the cafeteria there was everything. All the supplies, food, bags, chargers (charging), and phone (mine, now charging, too). It's a pretty stupid idea to have everything in here considering it is on the ground/basement floor and it has the largest windows in the school taking up an entire wall.

I broke into the fridge. Good, they did cook all the perishables, I thought as I pulled out some chicken and rice.

"Ok good. No rat problem, but a single innocent mouse problem." I jumped at the voice, spinning around. Only Diamma, "So, you gonna make me a plate too?" She sat down like she owned the place and I was her servant.

"If you're so hungry: do it yourself." I said and sat across from her at a cafeteria table.

She smiled, "Oh, sharp."

"What do you want?"

"Food, I already said so."

"And like I said go 'do it yourself.'" I shoved a piece of chicken into my mouth. A bit dry but it's still food.

Diamma just rolled her eyes at me. "That's a nice way to talk to the person who spent two whole hours cooking it." I choked. She gave me a knowing look and strutted off to the kitchen. "You're doing the dishes." She called.

"They're paper plates." I called back.

"Someone's gotta do the garbage pickup." She said from behind me. So close that I jumped again. "Jeez jumpy, I'm not gonna kill you."

I sighed in relief.

She added, "Yet."

I stared at her. The corner of her mouth twitched upwards. "Ha Ha," I mocked, "very funny."

She shoveled rice into her mouth. "I 'ought so." She said with her mouth full.

I dropped the metaphorical bomb, "I'm leaving."

Diamma froze. She was so still, and pale, she could've been made of marble. "You're not."

"I am. I need to get to my parents. They're in a safe house in Etobicoke. Terry is rich, he pulled all his employees and their family's as soon as he heard about it. I just need to get to them."

"You'll die. You won't make it alone."

I leaned across the table, reaching out, "So come with me. When we get there we'll be safe, and we won't need to worry about anything; food, water, warmth, nothing. Please," I begged, "Please come with me."

She snapped back into herself. "No."

"No?"

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'? No to safety, no to shelter, no to things getting back to the way they were? Do you want to die out here? All alone—you'll be all alone if you stay here, never with a moments rest. Do you really want to live like that? You just said I won't make it alone, so you'd rather stay here and let me die, too?" I was livid.

"You don't understand." She yelled. "You don't understand! I don't fit. I never had, for the first time in my life I feel free, I am happy—"

I interrupted. "Happy? How can you be happy with this? You're sick."

"I'm not, just let me finish." I said nothing. "Everything I know how to do is useless in a functioning society. I'm useful here. I know what to do. Remember how I'd always tell you that even on a good day I was at least fifty-seven percent angry and it never went down. Well, here, it doesn't matter, I can be as fucking angry as I want to be and nobody can give a shit. Oh, and by the way, what you saw, with the cars and the screaming, that was the anger. That was me letting go of the anger. For the first time I can't feel it—I can't feel it rising, bubbling to the surface ready to destroy every shitting thing in my way. So yeah, I'm happy."

I could hardly spit out the next few words. "And one day when everyone else is dead, and you're out of food and water and a safe place: then what?"

She was silent, contemplating. "Then: I'd go on an adventure. Steal a yacht. They're equipped for months at sea. I'd sail to Europe and Africa and Asia. They have water filtration systems and their own storage and generators. I'd go have some fun."

"And food—what about food?" My throat burned from unshed tears.

"Freighters, farms, greenhouses, shipments; they all have food."

"You've already planned this." This feeling: betrayal.

"We both did. We all did. Me, you, and—"

I growled, "Don't say her name."

"You and I both know she's smart enough to have survived."

"Doesn't matter now, do it?" I replied smartly. "Since we're never gonna see her again, alive, infected, dead, whatever."

"Does this mean you're leaving?" Diamma shifted.

"Yes," I shoved most of my food into my mouth, finishing quickly. I couldn't stay here with her any longer. "In a few day's I'll pack up and be out of your hair."

My soon-to-be-ex-friend scoffed. "Why wait? Go, leave, now. Save some more food for us, why waste the food, that I cooked, on someone determined to get themselves killed."

"I'll be gone tomorrow." I hated that sentence. I absolutely hated it. I just gave myself a deadline for something that shouldn't have one. Before, when I said 'a few days' I had room to wiggle, room to plan, make mistakes, stock up, but now... "I'll be gone at the end of the day."

Diamma's attention shot back to me again, "Idiot."

"What?" I was getting real sick of her attitude.

"You leave at the end of the day and you'll be struggling for a safe place early. Use tomorrow for prep, be gone first thing the next morning."

"Don't tell me what to do!" I basically screamed at her. I stood, taking my plate—still with some food—and tossed it in the trash, looking her directly in the eye as I did. "I'll be gone before morning."

What the fuck did I just do? I silently berated myself as I walked out of the cafeteria and up the stairs. What have I done?