I. Remains, pt 3
Suddenly, I hear a noise coming from the bathrooms, as if glass was being smashed to the ground… Could it have been? I draw my hunting knife and hold it firmly with both hands as I approach slowly closer and closer to the slightly opened bathroom door. I can feel how my heart starts pounding louder and faster, breathing becomes heavier and I start feeling some sort of knot in my throat. As I slowly slide my right foot to end up opening the screechy door, I try to stay alert to any sudden movement in the interior. Little by little I go inside the dark bathrooms, and even though my eyes are already used to the lack of light, I find it difficult to see what’s inside all those shadows.
I walk cautiously keeping a certain distance from each stall’s door, and I suddenly noticed with a quick glance at a broken small window placed high on one of the walls, perhaps I scared a rat or something when I shot the gun and it ended up fleeing through there. There doesn’t seem to be anything else inside the bathrooms, so I guess I really have nothing to worry about. My idea about the fleeing rodent seemed logical and that alone allowed me to relax again a little, but still I blocked the entrance to the bathrooms by leaving a chair stuck to the door once I came out.
After inspecting over and over the place, I wasn’t able to find any food at all in this place. I will just sit on one of these tables that have comfy couches and eat my super delicious canned peas… again. My supplies are running low, but if I stop eating I’ll get weak and might get sick as well, and I have to stay strong should anything happen.
The dim and gray light, which passed through the main door and windows of the place, mixed with the sound of the rain falling, made me think of how sad it might look the very sight of me sitting in this place eating my canned peas. If I think about it, a quick death doesn’t sound that bad at all, it’s definitively better than being eaten by some sort of animal or slowly dying from disease. And there would even be three bullets left that any other survivor passing by might use however they see fit, assuming there are more survivors of course. However… Survivors? I have already started to forget what it is like to be around someone else. Would it be a waste of time to wait and see whether I find someone else or not? I could end this here and now, couldn’t I? Anyone else in my position would, anyone.
I guess I’d like to first know if my family is still alive somewhere, if it is, I might as well stick around and endure, for their sake. But if they’re no longer here, well, I guess it’s pretty clear what I should do. I just hope nothing bad has happened to them. Thinking about all the possible outcomes frightens me a little too much and at the same time, gives me hope. But I’m not sure of how exactly to find them. Why haven’t I been able to find a city map yet? I’m not sure of just how much time I can keep going like this, sometimes I feel that simply breathing is as hard as running for over an hour or so. I guess it’s all thanks to those filthy clouds.
I miss everything so much. I miss the radio! To think something as trivial as a radio could be missed this much. Before all this came to be I hated, despised the radio. Every goddamn morning getting in my sister’s car just to hear that old geezer talk about politics as if there would be no tomorrow, the monotonic sound of his grave voice induced me to the deepest sleep, it was almost unbearable. If I could hear that man just one more time right now, I’d be incredibly happy.
This rain seems to never end, I guess I will be delayed for a while… such a dumb thought that was, I even laugh at myself a little. Delayed? Ha! As if there was someone expecting me somewhere, the idea itself was a bit dumb. I guess this is the defective effects caused by wandering alone all this time. Sooner or later I will start seeing things which aren’t there and start talking to a softball with a face painted on it, ha! I wonder if this is how homeless people used to feel, if this is how a castaway would feel like. Society itself has fallen and perhaps I, in a way, keep falling down until the day on which my mental resistance would give in and I’ll break.
Perhaps I should try to stop moving so much, find somewhere safe, explore as much as I can from that area and move out as supplies begin to run low again. However such place must be able to withstand the many acid rains that fall in the city. A place I could call “home” without fear of it crumbling down on me. My own lack of certainty will be my dearest enemy until the last of my days.