Safe Space
I’m impressed you survived out there for this long.
Are you hungry?
Well, when we get to the top floor, I’ll get you something to eat. Maybe some saltines and jerky?
Hey, no need to cry, kiddo, you’re safe now.
My name’s Nicole, what’s yours?
Well, hello there Anabella, I’m very happy to meet you.
No, I haven’t been on the streets in weeks. Ever since thee, National Guard left the Detroit area. Before that, I was trying to help with the clearing of buildings and setting up barriers at the intersections.
What’s that, sweetie?
Yes, I agree. It was pointless make-work considering what ended up happening. The night they overran the neighborhood, I was in my apartment fortifying it for a siege. I’d realized that morning we were all screwed, and I wasn’t the only one. The Guard troops and the rest of the volunteers bugged out by noon.
They asked me to come with them, but I said no.
Why?
I’ve lived here, in the D, my entire life. This is my neighborhood, and I had to stay here and protect it to the best of my ability. There’s no way I’m letting them win.
No, I don’t wish I’d left with the rest of them.
How do I know the building is safe?
I cleared it out, but first, I locked down the ground floor, the elevators, and all but one stairwell. Then I went from apartment to apartment, most of them were abandoned already, and put down anyone left. Then I gathered all the food and anything that might be useful and moved it to the top floor. I keep the fire door on the sixth floor locked down.
No, you’re right, these days we can’t take any risks.
What do I do every day? Lordy child, you ask a lot of questions. But that’s ok, I have had anyone to talk to in a long time.
Well, now, every day I wake up, walk the rooms and halls of the building, all six floors and the basement, check the locks and barricades, Have a small breakfast of an energy bar and water, take a sponge bath, and then take my spot on the roof of the apartment building and watch the world die one bloody horrifying mouthful at a time.
This is my day, my every day, for the last six weeks.
What have you been doing the last six weeks?
Oh, Anabella, I’m so sorry. Being alone and hiding the whole time has been rough on me, but I can’t imagine how bad it’s been for you. But you must be a smart, tough kid if you survived all of this time.
Those streets are dangerous.
Why are their bodies all over the street?
Well, I was in the Army before my injury, and I was rated as a marksman. Most days, I sit up there on the roof and pick them off with my AR-15. Those poor souls are trapped in rotting, stumbling bodies. I have to free them.
Sure, you can help. I can teach you how to shoot. I have plenty of ammo and all of the time in the world.
What’s that?
Girl, you sure do ask a lot of questions, and I love it.
No, I hate using that term. I prefer to think of them as some kind of virus, just human-sized and hostile.
All right, I won’t argue with you. You’ve seen a ton more of them up close than I have.
Yes, Anabella, you’re right. They aren’t a virus.
They’re zombies.
The End