Lee Kerr - Welcome to the Apocalypse

She still hears things deep inside her frantic mind, mainly the little hero who whispers to her from somewhere in the dim recesses of her failing spirit, telling her to remember all that happens here, to catalogue everything he does, to somehow find a way to use it.

Now she awakes to the sound of movement on the stairs outside; he’s right on time like always. The two locks are undone from the outside; they are only ever bolted, never locked with a key. The door opens now and light floods into the room. She knows just where to sit these days, the exact angle at which her eyes are able to adjust quick enough to get a proper look at him. All those features – she would always be able to recall them even if she never sees him again. Her mind pictures every pothole and every thinning patch on his head each time he mounts her on that table, but she reminds herself to keep looking. She knows that in order to spot the way out of hell you need to look the devil in his dark eyes.

‘Blindfold on,’ he demands, as he throws it down to her.

She does as she is told, knowing that he will lead her to the bathroom, to that lukewarm shower and that inevitable pill that brings on the sleep that edges her closer to the torment, and a little bit further away from the Lucy she remembers.

‘Hold on,’ that voice within her says. ‘Remember who you are, remember Harvey, and know that he will be looking for you. Those sirens earlier, they had to be him.’

If there is one thing the chaos allows, it is for things a normal person would see as unthinkable to suddenly seem acceptable, permissible, and even necessary in order to survive. I hold the shiny object in my hands. It’s heavier than I expected and completely terrifying. The guy didn’t take long to show me how it worked and it wasn’t because he was afraid of the cops or anything, it was just that he really didn’t care. He had somewhere else to be, he said. A war is coming and he wants to be a part of it. I didn’t dare ask whose side he will be fighting on and I didn’t think of haggling with him. Dollars don’t do a lot these days, he said, and so he took all the jewellery I had and told me to fuck off before he shot me and took my car as well.

I left quickly and so did he. Both of us went our separate ways, going to very different battles. Now I’m sitting in the car, parked several houses down from Carlos’s place. I pulled in as soon as it went dark and turned the lights off, the absence of any streetlights having hidden my approach. A regular helicopter flies over and shines lights all over the district, close to this neighbourhood and then further away – looking for something it cannot seem to find. I’m almost grateful to see it flying overhead, to know that some resemblance of government power remains, even if it won’t come to my aid. I think of that cop from earlier and I wonder where he is now. He must know I’m coming back here and I would like nothing more than for him to come around the corner and get into the passenger seat, telling me his master plan for our attack.

As I accept that no one is coming to help me I look down at the gun – the only plan I managed to come up with. I have to get Carlos to come to the door one more time, then I can shoot him. If I kill him where he stands, I can get in, taking all the time I need to find Lucy. And if I have to shoot him as he leans through the window, then that is what I will do. As I plan all of this and think about what will happen, I realise that my choices are entirely limited, yet completely inevitable.

I put the gun into my backpack, not comfortable with having it stuck in my belt, never really convinced that I will be able to fire it. Killing a man has only just crossed my mind, and as I step out of the car I remind myself that the bigger worry for me is that Carlos may also be armed. The thought that I might be wrong, and that I could be planning to shoot dead an innocent man, only enters my thoughts at the last moment, when I have already convinced myself that I am right. And if I am somehow wrong? I have already decided that finding Lucy is worth every bit of his soul and I’ll walk over a hundred dead Carlos’s to find her.

I hate everything about him but I know deep down that I myself am a monster, created by this changing world.

I stalk my way over lawns and through bushes, until I find safety in the shadows of a house on his side of the road. The helicopter circles overhead again, its light on the road. It shines over a few houses but doesn’t stay for long and clearly doesn’t see any threat. Sirens sound in the distance and it quickly pulls away to whatever is happening over there. I kneel down for a moment, trying to steady my thoughts. Only the image of Lucy is in my head, as her blonde hair and big smile both offer me comfort; the thought of holding her close distracts me from the impossible task that awaits me. I don’t know how I will get in but I know what I will bring out. I am sure of it.

I’m soon outside his house, and I slowly start making my way around to the back. I duck down low as I crawl under the windows. I know they are sealed tight but I don’t take the risk, cannot let him hear or see me coming. I survey his house, looking for any signs of vulnerability but I see that he has sealed up the front pretty well. I get into the garden and look at the back of the house, figuring he might not have had time to fortify it as much. I position myself behind a large bush, thankful his home preparations didn’t stretch to pillaging the wood from out here. I look up at the house as I inspect each window from this safe distance. They all look sealed: all are covered with bars or large, wooden boards.

As I start to think about how much noise I will make if I take them off, I start to wonder if any lights are on. The windows with bars make it easy to figure out, but in the dark of the night I cannot see the slightest bit of light shining through any gaps. He’s either in the basement or somewhere else in the house and running the power at a very low level.

I get up, my body still hunched, and I start to make my way towards the back door, hoping it is not as sealed as it looks from here. Halfway across the lawn I stop as I hear a car door slamming. I didn’t hear any noise from a car engine but the hum from the helicopters in the distance probably hid it. I run back to my hiding place, although I’m not sure what I’m hiding from or if I even need to bother. I reach for the gun, pulling it out and holding it down to the ground. I try to listen for voices or noises and I know that if I was braver I would find a way to get closer, to be able to find out what is happening at the front and back of this house. I stroke this thing in my hand, trying to remember if I have put the safety in the on or off position.

I drop it on the ground when I hear someone coming through the gate and then I hear a man talking on the phone as he heads to the back door. I recognise the voice but I’m struggling to place where I heard it before. It’s not Carlos; the man is a good foot taller and his voice is not as deep. I lean forward, just a little, trying to get a closer look.

He still has his back to me as he starts to unlock the door to a house that I don’t believe is his, yet he has all the access he needs and enough confidence to know where he is going.

I move a little, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man’s face, but I’m not careful enough and I tread on a fallen branch. It easily snaps under my weight and the noise is enough to make him turn around.

I quickly crouch down, as low as I can go, hoping I’m shielded enough for him not to see me, or that he is in enough of a hurry that he will not want to investigate further, and will just assume it’s the noise of some animal. I look through the thinnest part of the bush, through a small space in the leaves, just enough to notice the gun that’s pinned to his belt and the police badge that sits on the other side. He looks around for a moment, saying nothing as he scans every part of the garden for any threat that might linger.