Skye City: The Darkness of Emmilyn

Lunch Time

We sit in Cali's open-plan living room and the kitchen area is stocked with supplies, only about half of which are stored in the cupboards or fridge. The rest are stacked on the benches and the laminate flooring, leaving little space to stand. A single mattress has taken up much of the carpet and a double mattress has been squeezed into the tiny spare bedroom. I still have no idea how Bex and I found the strength to haul it down several flights of stairs. Our spare clothing has been left in Cali's bedroom, along with half the bags which have not been unpacked since the last raid.

Our efforts have proven more than successful, but we are certainly in no mood to celebrate. An image of the grey, withered toddlers flashes in my mind, shredding my nerves, burning every inch of my flesh, yet chilling me to the bone. I imagine their fear and suffering, their desperation to bring their mother back, their desperation to survive, to eat, and finally, their surrender when they realised they had no hope and simply lay in bed, waiting for the inevitable. They say children die quickly, that once they know the end is coming, they simply slip away. I just hope this is true, that their suffering did not last long.

'I-I'd seen them a few times. Their father lived with them too, I think. He must've abandoned them or been killed elsewhere perhaps,' Cali says.

'Maybe he enlisted in the military. He must've returned at some point though, otherwise the door would've been locked.' I take a deep breath. 'He probably saw their bodies, panicked and fled. It's not like he can make funeral arrangements.'

'What do you think killed them?' Bex whispers.

'I'm guessing the mother died from the plague or suicide. Poor kids probably starved. They must've been so scared. I can't even bear thinking about it,' I say; my voice shaking.

'Just when I think I'm ready, just when I think I'm finally tough enough for this world, I see shit like this and it breaks me again. Fuck I was hoping tonight could be fun, a proper girls' night. We could drink some wine, act like all this isn't happening. Now I'm on a major downer,' Bex says.

'Let's eat. We need to keep our strength up... And we'll never talk about what we saw again.' I rise from the couch and collect bowls from a cupboard, laying them on the bench, then I open one of the tins. I grab the only spoon from a drawer and scoop sticky toffee pudding into the bowls which I serve to the girls.

'I'm supposed to avoid puddings, but my blood sugar must be low since I've had my insulin,' Cali says.

'You can't eat puddings because of your illness?' Bex says.

'Diabetes means I can't process sugar properly. My body produces low levels of insulin so I become ill when I eat and must closely monitor my diet. My recent hunger will have helped in that regard, but even small amounts of food can cause me problems, unless I inject insulin. I was feeling incredibly weak and tired earlier. Without you guys, I would've been completely helpless,' Cali says.

'It's easy to forget how much we depend on each other, eh? We think we're self-sufficient until our support is taken away,' I say.

'Actually, I've never seen myself as self-sufficient,' Cali says and I find those words strange. I thought Level Three Citizens were just as self-sufficient as bottom-levellers, given their daily struggles.

We eat the sticky toffee pudding cold with our fingers, not giving a damn about the messiness because it tastes so good, provides the energy our muscles are crying out for, distracts us from the constant horror.

When we have scraped our bowls clean, we open more tins, savoury this time, and I eat beans and sausages for dessert, washing them down with filtered tap water. I nod to the blank compuscreen fixed into Cali's wall and say: 'The guys on the rooftop have a working perpetuator. We could get them to–'

'No, I don't want them coming in here. They're dangerous,' Cali says.

'They seemed okay to me, helped when we were in trouble,' I say.

'They're the kind who'll pick your pockets, stick a knife in your back or your front,' Cali says.

'Actually, we're that kind... Well, I wouldn't stab anyone... female...' Bex says.

'I know you two are trustworthy because you helped me, but them? They would take over this place and I wouldn't be able to stop them,' Cali says.

'Okay, fair enough. I get you're not the trusting type. That's totally understandable. So what happened to your husband? You kill him or something?' Bex smirks, but Cali glares and I mouth what the hell?

'No, I tried to chop his cock off!' Cali says in a monotone. 'He used to beat me, treat me like crap, use me for one thing, cheat on me. One night I'd had enough. I waited in bed with a knife under the pillow, watched him strip naked and lunged at him, missed by an inch. Good job it was so small! He fled and I chased him out the building. He ran starkers along the street. I screamed that if he ever came back, I'd kill him, then I threw his clothes into the garbage.

'I spent days terrified he'd return and try to kill me, but he never came. I realised that as powerful as he'd always seemed, he was just as fragile as I was. He relied on me being submissive, cowering to him. Then like all bullies, when the tables were turned, he showed his cowardly side.

'I don't even know where he could've gone, but the thought of him wandering naked, trying to figure it out, gives me joy. He deserved that. He should be grateful he's still got that little pecker!'
'You know what, Cali? I think I might have a new hero!' Bex says and we laugh a little, our eyes still teary.