The Survivors_Pandemic Page 8

  I hovered in front of the bookcase, wondering if it would be silly to take a few of my favourites. After deliberating for longer than I probably should have, I put a dozen or so books into the definitely taking pile, and the rest into the ‘if there’s room’ pile.

  I’d read a few times that people who’d lost all their worldly possessions in a bushfire or other natural disaster wished they’d been able to save their photo albums. I looked sadly at my laptop and phone. Getting some of my favourite photos from the past few years printed had been on my to-do list for ages. I’d been almost religious about updating and curating my photo albums when I’d been in high school and university, but since then almost all of my photos were digital and currently unaccessible. Would I ever be able to look at them again? I carefully packed the handful of drawings Tristan had done for me over the years. There was a lovely oil pastel he’d done of Gertrude, and a sketch of my old dog, Gus. Another sketch of our very first pets, Fred and George the rats. I was always bugging him to draw more. He was so good. I twirled my engagement ring round and round my finger, wondering how he was, where he was. What was he doing at this very minute. Was he thinking of me? I sat in the middle of our belongings, watching through blurry eyes as Gertrude inspected all of the items.

  I put all of my potted plants outside to give them a chance at survival and not the definite death sentence of neglect if they stayed indoors. Hopefully I’d be back before summer. They’d definitely die without a human around to water them, then.

  Food, medical supplies, clothes, books, the few hard copies of photos I had, and a few select mementos were packed into the car and it was time for the animals. I knew Maggie wouldn’t be a problem, but Gertrude… getting the cat into her carrier had always been difficult and a two person job. She hated the damn thing and usually hid whenever it came out. I managed to trap her in the study.

  I picked the cat up but she immediately started squirming like her life depended on it. I pulled over the cat carrier and made a feeble attempt at putting her in, but Gertrude was like a contortionist toddler in the middle of a tantrum who refuses to be strapped into their car seat. I spent a good ten minutes trying to get the small, struggling body into the carrier. I ranged between feeling sorry for the cat and sheer frustration with the animal with threats to just leave her there to fend for herself. I ended up wrapping her up in a towel and shoving her unceremoniously in. My hands stung. I should have gone for the towel and shove method first. I was covered in ribbons of blood.

  Maggie was much easier to get into the vehicle. I looked at the SUV and swallowed the lump that was becoming all too familiar in my throat. Lucy’s SUV was much bigger than my little old hatchback. I felt an odd twinge of guilt, almost as if I was stealing her car, but she wouldn’t be needing it anymore. I closed my eyes briefly at the thought, and turned back into the house for one last check. I paced around, checking each room multiple times. On my forth inspection of the house I realised I was doing. Stalling. I didn’t want to leave, and I didn’t want to go to my sister’s house. Right then, Sarah was most probably alive and just hadn’t been able to get through to us. They were all alive, Sarah, Christopher and Charlotte. They were all still alive, as long as I didn’t go over there. I didn’t know if I could handle finding out otherwise, not after Lucy. I leaned against the front door, trying to get my breathing under control.

  Maggie barked at me from the car.

  “Get a grip, Alice. You can break down later.”

  The drive to Sarah’s house in Brunswick was surreal. I half expected to be stopped by the army for breaking quarantine, but there was no traffic at all. The traffic lights weren’t working. I stopped at every single intersection, worried that I’d be cleaned up if I just drove through. My caution started to feel paranoid and pointless after ten minutes of driving and not seeing a single living soul, let alone another car, but the utterly paranoid part of me rationalised that as soon as I ran a stop sign or light, the only other car out there would appear and annihilate me. The thought of escaping the virus yet dying in a stupid car crash kept me cautious the whole way.

  I pulled up in front of Sarah’s house. The pink cherry blossom in the front garden was starting to bloom. Both of their cars were in the driveway. So. They hadn’t gone to Mum’s after all. My heart thumped in my chest and I felt clammy all of a sudden. I took a deep breath, trying to prepare myself for what I might find inside.

  I prayed fervently to whoever might be listening that all was well in the house and opened the car door. Maggie looked at me expectantly. Gertrude mewed piteously, like she had been intermittently since she’d found herself trapped in the cat carrier.

  “Sorry, Mags. Not yet. I’ll let you out in a bit.” I wound down the window and climbed out of the SUV.

  I felt dizzy as I stared at the wilted potted plants by the front door. They all looked in desperate need of a water. I knocked on the door, not really expecting anyone to answer as I stared sadly at the almost dead flowers and ferns.

  The patter of feet on the other side of the door made me almost faint with relief. The front door was pulled open and my little niece, Charlotte, stood there looking slightly dishevelled but very much alive.

  “Thank goodness,” I breathed, sinking to the ground, my knees suddenly weak. Charlotte had been terribly sick with the red flu last time I’d managed to talk to Sarah. She looked mostly fine now, apart from not having brushed her hair and having jam smeared all over her cheek.

  “Auntie Alice!” Charlotte pounced on me, wrapping her skinny arms around my neck. “I missed you!”

  “I missed you too, pumpkin.” I inhaled deeply and then regretted it. Charlotte really needed a bath. My uneasiness and fear returned, smashing into me like a truck. I stayed crouched down, worried that I might faint if I tried to stand up.

  “Where’s Mummy and Daddy?” I asked. The hallway behind Charlotte had remained quiet and empty.

  Charlotte bit her lip and looked down at her feet. “They’re sleeping,” she said slowly. “They won’t wake up.”

  I took a deep breath, and then another.

  “Can you take me to them?” I asked softly. Charlotte nodded and slipped her little hand into mine. It was sticky.

  She pulled me along the hallway to the back of the house where Chris and Sarah’s bedroom was. Charlotte hovered by the doorway. I stepped forward and almost gagged on the smell. Sleeve held to my nose, I stepped closer. My sister looked almost peaceful, apart from the dried blood. I didn’t need to touch them to realise they were both gone. They’d both been dead for a few days by the looks of it.

  I took a step backwards, my breath coming fast and shallow, my mind not really wanting to process what was in front of me. Charlotte reached out for my hand again. I froze. I’d almost forgotten she was there. I couldn’t fall to pieces in front of her. I needed to stay strong.

  “Can you wake them up, Auntie Alice?”

  The six year old had no real experience of death. She’d been only a year old when Nan had died. None of her pets had even died yet. Well, as far as I knew. Mr Mister may not be looking so good these days seeing as he was a guinea pig who lived in a hutch with only a six year old to remember to feed and water him.

  This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. I was stuck in some horrible nightmare, a long, horrible nightmare. I desperately wanted to wake up. Maybe I was in a coma? My sister and brother-in-law, my best friend, my neighbours, my city… They couldn’t all be dead and me still alive? Could they? Why me?

  “Get a grip,” I muttered under my breath. “I’m sorry, pumpkin,” I said in a more normal voice. “I can’t wake them up.”

  Charlotte’s blue eyes glimmered with tears.

  “You like dogs, don’t you Charlotte?” The little girl bit her lip in the exact same way Sarah used to when we were kids and she wasn’t sure about something, but then she nodded. “Well,” I continued, begging my voice to stop wavering. “I have a special friend in the car outside who I think you’ll
like. Do you remember Maggie?”

  “The really big dog?” Charlotte asked after a slight pause. I nodded and plastered a smile on my face. It felt unnatural.

  “That’s the one. Come on, she wants to say hi to you.”

  Charlotte frowned in the direction of her parents, and then followed me back outside. I let Maggie out of the car. She bounded around excitedly, sniffing the grass before running up to Charlotte and trying to lick her in the face, evidently after the jam. Gertrude meowed at me again, with that particular plaintive noise she only made when she was in the carrier, as if I’d betrayed and abandoned her.

  “Sorry, G. Still a little while to wait for you.” If I let Gertrude out here, I’d never see her again if she bolted.

  I turned back around to Charlotte and Maggie. Maggie was sitting patiently while Charlotte hugged her, burying her face in Maggie’s thick black fur.

  “Let’s go back inside,” I said. I could feel my thin veneer of control cracking fast.

  I stood in front of the mirror, staring into my horror filled eyes. I looked gaunt, scared. I splashed cold water on my face, trying to get my crying under control. I couldn’t afford to lose it now. I told myself I could break down later, when we were safely at Mum’s.

  Charlotte sat on the living room floor, huddled up to Maggie. The big dog sat patiently while the child hugged and stroked her. I stood watching them for a moment and wondered how much this was going to screw her up. I had quite a lot of memories from when I was six, it wasn’t like she was young enough to forget. That was both good and bad - she’d remember her mother and father, but she’d also remember all of this.

  “Come on, pumpkin. We’ll go visit Grandma.”

  “Is Grandma sick too?” Charlotte asked quietly, not looking at me.

  “No, Grandma’s not sick,” I said, hoping it was still true. “We’ll be safe there. She has lots of food and space and…” I trailed off, not really sure what to say to her.

  Charlotte looked up at me and rubbed her eyes. “Auntie Alice, I’m hungry.”

  Of course the poor kid was. “Let’s see if we can rustle you up something to eat, and then we’ll get going, okay?”

  Charlotte nodded. Maggie followed the two of us to the kitchen. A chair had been pushed up against the counter and a jar of jam and an empty bread packet lay on the counter.

  “What have you been eating?” I asked. I hunted around the cupboards for something edible and easy to prepare.

  “Jam sandwiches. I can make those by myself.”

  “Is that all?” I pulled out a tin of tuna and some crackers. I opened the fridge but shut it again quickly. It didn’t smell very appetising.

  “Yeah,” Charlotte said with a nod. “Can I have something else?”

  “Of course. Here, this will do for now.” I opened the tin of tuna and spread some on the crackers. “We’ll cook a proper meal when we get to Grandma’s.” I handed her a couple of crackers and took one for myself. It felt like concrete in my mouth and I would have spat it out if Charlotte hadn’t been looking up at me. I tried to smile but it came out more as a grimace. She sniffed the tuna, looking slightly skeptical, but then shrugged and popped it in her mouth. Maggie stared up at me intently. Drool started dripping down her front. I held a dry cracker out for her, and she politely took it out of my hand before gobbling it down.

  “Did you even chew that or did you just inhale it?” I asked the dog. Maggie wagged her tail and her eyes went back to the packet of crackers. Charlotte giggled briefly and then went back to her own eating. She was almost inhaling her food as well. With a pang, I wondered when the bread had run out. I made a few more crackers for the girl. Maggie switched her attention to Charlotte, not taking her dark eyes off the eating child until all the food was gone.

  “You are disgusting, Mags.” I stared in mild fascination at the amount of drool dripping on her chest. Once Charlotte was all finished, I told her it was time to pack her bags. I asked her to pick out some clothes and a favourite toy or two and anything else she wanted to bring with her. I didn’t tell her that we’d probably never be coming back to this house.

  I could hear her rummaging around her room, talking to herself. I hovered in the doorway of Sarah’s office, not really wanting to break her sanctity. She was a writer, and very protective of her space. I frowned and stepped in. An envelope with my name printed clearly on it sat propped up against her pencil jar. I walked slowly over and picked it up. There were more behind it; one for Mum, Dad, Tom and Chris. I closed my eyes. Chris would never be able to read his. I had no idea if Tom or Dad would either. I tucked the envelopes into my coat pocket, shoving down the desire to curl up in a ball and scream.

  I glanced around her office, and gravitated towards a pile of notebooks. Sarah’s diaries. My sister had kept a diary (or journal as Sarah had loftily corrected me years ago) since we were teenagers. She’d strictly forbidden me from reading them back then, by pain of an absolute thrashing, but… I reached out and grabbed them. There was a lovely framed photo of Sarah, Chris and Charlotte on their holiday in Queensland last year. I took that as well, along with a few others.

  I looked around for the baby albums that Sarah had so lovingly curated for Charlotte. I felt a sharp pain in my chest as a memory bubbled up of Sarah giggling over a funny photo of Charlotte sitting naked on the kitchen floor, covered in butter with an ice-cream bucket on her head. Sarah had laughingly declared that that photo was definitely being shown at Charlotte’s 21st party.

  I found the albums on one of the shelves and carried them out to the car. Gertrude meowed at me from her carrier. Poor cat. It was getting pretty full in there, and I still had to get a six year old child, her things, and a Bernese Mountain dog back into the car. Oh, and a guinea pig, Charlotte informed me just as we were about to leave. I’d forgotten about Mr Mister. The guinea pig was still alive, to my slight surprise. Charlotte told me proudly that feeding him was her job. I left the hutch where it was in the yard. I was pretty sure Mum still had a few hutches in the back shed, from our younger days. Instead, the poor guinea pig was confined to a dark box. Charlotte had wanted to cuddle him on her lap, but I didn’t feel like dealing with a rodent escape situation while I was driving. Besides, I wasn’t entirely sure what the dog would do to the little creature. It might not be pretty.

  “Are you sure you’ve got everything you want?” I asked. Charlotte nodded.

  “What about Mummy and Daddy?” Charlotte asked with a worried glance towards their bedroom.

  I took a deep breath, wrestling with the mountain of grief trying to erupt.

  “They’re staying here.” I had no idea how to talk to her about this, or even how much she would understand. I hoped Mum would know what to say. Oh god, I thought. How am I going to tell Mum?

  “Oh. Okay.” Charlotte looked down at her feet. I had no idea what was going through her head.

  “Let’s say goodbye to them before we go,” I said. I took Charlotte’s hand and together we walked back down the hallway.

  “I kept telling them to wake up, but they wouldn’t,” Charlotte said sadly.

  “How long have they been asleep?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Charlotte said and wiped her face. “A few days, I think. It’s a long time.”

  “It is… you’ve been very brave.”

  We reached the bedroom. I went over to Chris’ side of the bed first, and kissed him on the forehead. As far as brother-in-laws went, he was a pretty good one. Charlotte stood on her tippy toes and kissed her father on the cheek. A part of me was worried about contamination, but Charlotte had already contracted and survived the virus. Tears welled up in my eyes as Charlotte murmured something to her father and then kissed him again. She turned to me.

  “Should we get them more blankets? Daddy’s cold.” I swallowed the sob that wanted to escape and shook my head. We went around the other side of the bed to Sarah. Charlotte stroked her mother’s forehead.

  “Mummy does this to me when I sle
ep sometimes. I like it.”

  I nodded, unable to speak. Charlotte leaned up and kissed her mother’s cheek, and then stood back, looking expectantly up at me. I closed my eyes briefly, and leaned down, squeezed my sister’s cold, unresponsive hand and gave her a final kiss on the forehead.

  “I’ll take care of her, I promise,” I whispered. “I love you, Sarah.” I closed my eyes and rested my forehead on hers for a moment.

  “Okay, kiddo. Let’s get going,” I said once I thought I could speak again. Charlotte was still looking at her parents.

  “Will Mummy and Daddy come soon?”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek, wondering what to say. I didn’t want to lie, but…

  “I don’t know, pumpkin.”

  Charlotte screwed up her face for a moment. “They should come. Mummy likes going to Grandma’s.”

  “I know she does,” I said, willing the tears that were forming not to fall.

  Once I had Charlotte safely buckled into the car, Mr Mister’s box on her lap, and Maggie in the back, I blinked the tears from my eyes and started the car. We had a two hundred kilometre drive ahead of us to get to Turalla, my hometown. Lucy must have filled up her tank not long before getting sick. It was mostly full. It would easily get us all the way to Mum’s. I didn’t want to think about what I’d do if we didn’t have enough petrol.

  It was strange to drive around a city as large as Melbourne, where peak hour sometimes felt like it lasted all day, and to barely see any signs of life. I glimpsed a few chimneys with smoke coming of of them. If I hadn’t had Charlotte with me, I might have been tempted to stop and investigate. Charlotte and I both stared when we drove past a row of shops that had burnt down. It looked as if the fire had spread uncontrolled.