The Grey, Green Dream

The Grey

     Mary looked up to the vent. Her focus was the air, had been since the announcement. The small grooves on the vent were tinged with green, like moss was beginning to grow on it. She looked for a window in the corridor, panic stricken. She had to get back to her baby.

     The hall was full of numbered doors; there were no windows. She kept walking down the hallway, conscious of her breath, knowing that each breath she took was toxic, knowing that upstairs right now, her small, sweet baby was breathing the same air—the air would kill them all. The hotel didn’t have emergency measures for something this catastrophic—no masks were dispersed… there were no masks; her brother went to look for some against her pleading and never came back. They both knew when he left it was futile, but he had to try. It was the man in him.

     Mary saw a door hanging open near the end of the hall and entered. 733—her brother’s room.  A disheveled king-size bed was in the middle of the room. She smelled her brother here; his cologne clung to the bedding. She threw herself onto the bed, burying her face in the soft, cool fabric. Her mind tried to store this scent in her head knowing she would never see him again, or smell him again. All things familiar and pleasant were disappearing. Panic and fear grabbed hold of her, pulled the scent of her brother away, and brought her to tears. She moved to the window and looked out. The day was gray and green. She didn’t look down, knew what she would see if she did. She had been outside; it was not a place she wanted to spend her final day. The drive back to the hotel after the announcement was nothing but chaos. So, Mary focused only on the sky. The sickening grayish green sky mortified her. Large smoky wisps of green death floated like speeding clouds in the distance. More of it was coming. It wouldn’t be long now before their lungs were all so full of it that they suffocated, sputtering the last bits of phlegm from their chests. The lung sacs would fill like water balloons until they reached capacity and burst inside the chest. Her baby…

     Mary wanted to see her baby, hold her baby. She didn’t want to be alone anymore down here. No one was here, only the scent of her brother, a memory. She didn’t want her dear child to be without her, wondering where that soft-spoken creature that smelled like narcissus was. She had to get back to her.

     “Here it comes,” she said to nobody. The need to talk to somebody, to speak final words was so strong that she went running from the room, the smell of her brother be damned. Maybe she would see him before the time came, maybe not. But, she would be locked safely away with her baby. She asked herself what she was doing down here. She couldn’t remember.