A New Type of Realism

(6) Hearts Aside Our Horses

My dreams were plagued with images and fragments of memories from the day and of my family. I hadn't realised how much I'd miss them if they were to be taken away from me. Now that they were gone, and I was beginning to realise that there was a high possibility that'd never see them again, I began to regret how little attention I'd payed to them. I could've at least told them how much I cared. I found myself making a promise to them in a dream that held certain lucid qualities. The promise seemed clichéd and simple, though it meant the world to me; 'I promise I will find you, and when I do, I promise I will try to show you that I care.' My last thought before the period of lucidity ended was 'I am so sorry...'

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I woke up after a fitful period of unconsciousness. As I looked around me, I realised that everyone was fast asleep. How anyone could sleep after what had happened, I had no idea. It seemed impossible, but there they were, tucked up and swaddled in their blankets as snug as the beef surrounded by pastry in beef wellington.

I stood slowly and stumbled over to the chair in the corner. I fell down onto it and sighed in comfort as the weight was taken off of my feet. I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath of the air of our strange new world.

I had never believed in God, or any form of higher being of deity, but I found myself praying to something that I couldn't explain. Maybe it was out of desperation. Maybe it was out of loneliness. Maybe I just wanted someone to talk to, just to take my mind off of what was going on. Whatever the reason was, I found myself doing it. I prayed that I'd be allowed to make it to my family alive. That I'd be allowed to see them one more time.

I bowed my head and placed my hands over my head. With everyone asleep, and no one to see me, I found myself finding it incredibly easy to break down. All of the emotions that I'd bottled up and tried not to feel over the past day and a half came pouring out of me. My soul trickled into my hands, looked around in despair, before jumping back inside me, out of fright of the surroundings.

I thought of my family. I had to stay hopeful. I'd resolved to reach them, and wouldn't give up until I was successful. It occurred to me that while I knew they were alive and safe; they knew nothing of me. There had to be some way to contact them. There had to be a phone around this warehouse somewhere.

I stopped midway through my chaotic stream of thoughts. A phone! Of course! How could we be so naive? We'd been sitting around, twiddling our thumbs, not knowing what to do, when the next course of action had been blatantly obvious. We had to contact the authorities somehow. Surely they'd be able to evacuate us. They'd want any uninfected person out there. After all, if they want to rebuild the human race after this catastrophe, then what reason could they possibly have for not collecting us? If we managed to contact them in time, before the borders were closed, then it shouldn't be a problem...

I wiped the tears of hysteria from my face, avoiding the shock and frustration that threatened to overrun me. I hadn't cried in over fifteen years. I couldn't believe that I'd just succumbed to the rain of misery after all that time. So much for being the emotional 'rock' of the group.

I shook myself and prepared to find a phone, or some sort of device to make our whereabouts known. I began to turn the place upside-down in my frantic searching.

Unintentionally, all of my clattering and banging that came from the over-turning of items, woke up Kyle. He naturally asked me what I was doing. His voice was soft and clear. I found my mind drifting back to a time before the world had gone to pot. It was a peaceful memory, one that would've seemed meaningless then, but priceless now.