Lee Kerr - Welcome to the Apocalypse

She smiles and then laughs, her frizzy hair almost vibrating along with her body. She offers me a helping hand but I ignore it, in order to prove just how little I need her. The truth is that I would rather do without her – she does nothing but infuriate me. She has this incessant squeaky voice and she can go on for hours about things, freely sharing her frankly uninformed view on what is happening in the world.

As the last few days have unfolded and more of our apartment block has emptied out, she has suggested several times that we sleep together, or at least stay in the same flat – preferably mine because it’s higher up. Each time I have politely declined, telling her that it’s best that we keep to our normal, day-to-day routines for as long as possible. The truth is that as much as she scares me I also refuse to have her as the first person to share my bed, my personal space or any part of my life. It’s just my luck that the only remotely attractive single guy abandoned our block a week ago, as it turns out, heading back up north to find his last girlfriend, the apparent love of his life. I told him she’s probably a zombie by now, but it did nothing to make him stay.

As I stand up she can’t help but fuss over me, straightening my jacket and padding me down. ‘I’m sorry I scared you but if we were staying in the same flat, as I suggested, there would have been no need for me to rush up the stairs, would there?’

‘I’ve told you we’re not doing that. The world hasn’t ended, yet.’

She lets out this high-pitched squeal, her arms suddenly flapping all around me. ‘Haven’t you seen outside? Something bad is happening, something very different to yesterday.’ She grabs hold of my arm again, forcing her crazy gaze upon me. ‘That’s why I came up to see you, to warn you to stay here. You see, I really do look after you. We have to look after each other now and there’s no way you can go to work today, it’s just not–’

I grab hold of her, mirroring her pose so that we’re both holding each other. ‘What the hell are you talking about? What’s happening?’

‘Haven’t you heard? What have you been doing all this time? Some people are saying that whatever happened in Paris has made it through the tunnel and is coming up the river. Water won’t stop it, nothing can. But I personally think it’s those vigilantes from the south coast. They have finally got past the army barricades and are working their way to London, raping and pillaging as they go. The army won’t stop them – why should they? They have bigger things to worry about, don’t you think?’

I shake my head, openly refusing to accept her explanation. I can’t believe what I’m hearing, not because I’m in denial, but rather because all the reports we received yesterday said there had been no activity near the tunnel. It also said that all the army barricades were still holding strong. The government made the decision weeks ago to recall every warship, every soldier and every fighter plane in order to protect our homeland, and while they were criticised for not joining the short-lived Global Defence Force, the safest place to be right now is England, particularly the south. I remind myself of all these facts that I have read for myself and of the presence of thousands of soldiers around the coast, and then I look to my frantic neighbour. ‘Carla,’ I say, gently shaking her. ‘Please slow down and tell me what you know, not the gossip you have heard, because it’s very different to what I reported just a few hours ago when I left the office at midnight.’

She shakes me off her, taking a step back and folding her arms. ‘You know, Emma, you can be quite cutting at times. I was just starting to get to like you and then you get all judgemental on me.’

I ignore her and find my keys, taking my time to turn all three locks, but the whining continues in my ear. She doesn’t seem to notice what I’m doing. I turn each lock to a certain point and then pull the key out, memorising exactly which position I left each lock in, just in case someone decides to pay my flat a visit.

I push the door one more time, reassuring my later-self that I did lock, check and double-check it. I turn around and she is still standing there at the top of the stairs.

‘Haven’t you heard a word I’ve just said?’ she says, her arms folded and my escape route blocked.

‘No, I haven’t,’ I say, moving myself forward, quite willing at this point to push her down the stairs. The police would never turn up, even if called, and no one would ever know, except for me. I have visions that she might not be the first person who gets in my way who I deal with like this; I know that the element of surprise would be my biggest asset, hopefully compensating for my unfortunately slender frame. Even high heels don’t help, and besides they are most definitely a thing of the past, which is one thing at least that I am thankful for.

‘Oh Emma,’ she says, her head tilted and this smile on her face. ‘You’re too independent for your own good. You’re just the type of person who will do well in whatever wasteland awaits us. And that’s why we should stick together, because with your survival skills and my organisational talent we will make it through this. I know we will.’

‘I’m going to work,’ I say, pushing myself forward, now only a single step in front of her. ‘And you’ll need to move out of my way for that to happen.’

She shakes her head, a hand on each side of the banister. ‘There is no more work, don’t you see? It has finally caught up with us and now we have to take steps in order to survive.’

I take a deep breath, not knowing where to begin but very clear in my mind that I will be going to work and today is not the day that we all give up, making hiding the only option.

‘Now, while you have been wallowing in self-pity and still going to work in the vain hope that you will get paid, I have been busy stockpiling and collecting what we will need. So, I say we do one more trip to Sainsbury’s – the big one, I mean – and see what final bits we can get there. Once we’ve done that, we need to barricade the downstairs door. We’re lucky it’s solid oak – that should help a little bit. We will use the furniture from the other flats to help reinforce it. I doubt they will mind and we will never see them again, anyway.’

I silently shake my head, which only serves to make her eyes wilder; her whole body quivers. The thought of barricading myself in this block with her would be very like encasing myself in my own personal hell, and it’s not something I plan to do.

‘I don’t think that you’re taking this seriously, Emma,’ she says. ‘You have to realise that this is the end and we need to prepare. Please, don’t worry, because I will take care of everything. And just so you know, the nice couple over the road are doing the same. We have plans to stay in our separate houses and communicate through the windows. Whoever or whatever comes down the street in the depths of the night will hopefully think the houses are deserted and will move on. I bet we will see that lots of people have done exactly the same.’

‘I’m still going to work,’ I say, pushing forward again. My body comes into contact with hers, and my eyes look down, ever hopeful that she will move without a struggle.

Her body tenses and I feel nothing but a solid bulk of determination in front of me. She wants to keep me here, keep me trapped. I know that right now she is scarier than whatever waits for me outside, but if I leave her like this I’m not sure I’ll be able to get back in later.

‘Look, Carla, why don’t we just treat today like a normal day. I’ll go to work and see what is going on out there, while you start the preparations. Perhaps we could have a chat with those Australian guys over the road. I think they’re still here and if they are planning on doing the same, maybe we should all put our supplies into one block. Don’t you think that would be the best idea for everyone?’