Daphne Lamb: The Girl's Guide to the Apocalypse

“I don’t get it,” I said. “That answered none of my questions.”

“Want a tour?” Robert asked. “We were just getting settled.”

I followed his lead. The inside of the house was a wreck. There were brown stains coming down the walls and more spray painted scrawling. A distinct odor wafted through the halls, something like sewage and fresh air, a yin and yang of experiences. There was a couch, its cushions gone, a giant rip through its upholstery and propped up against one of the boarded up windows.

My eye caught Robert holding a framed family photo of people I didn’t know.

“Friends of yours?” I asked.

He shrugged and put it on the ledge.

I followed him into the kitchen where Debra was going through the cabinets.

“You would think you could find something to eat,” she said. “But no.” She pulled out a box of Fruit Rollups. “Please,” she said. “This is a travesty.”

“Its food,” I said. “At least it’s something.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “Gluten?” she said. “Sugar? Carbs? I’m telling you, if earthquakes and viruses don’t kill us, this will.” She slammed the box back down. “I will swell up like a balloon unless I find some gluten free options here.” She looked up as Priscilla entered the house. “Maria!” she said. “You made it!”

Priscilla smiled. “It’s still Priscilla.”

Debra waved it away. “And this place is a mess. Maybe a little tidying up, perhaps?”

She turned away, bent down to look in the cabinets under the sink.

Priscilla turned to me, confused. “Does she think I’m the hired help?”

Instead of answering, I looked around. “So this place has a working bathroom?” I asked.

“Yeah, about that,” Robert said, sheepishly.

His face said it all.

“We tried it,” he said. “It didn’t work out.”

I rolled my eyes. “Nice.”

I walked over to the kitchen faucet and lifted the handle. Brown sludge poured out. I made a face.

“Did anyone try finding water?” I asked.

“We just got here,” Debra said. “One thing at a time.” She pulled out a can of pumpkin pie filling. “Gross! It’s like we’ve just given up on ourselves.”

The sludge cleared itself out for a moment and there was clear water for just a brief shining second. Then it was gone.

“There’s got to be a way,” I said. “There’s something wrong with the pipes out there. Maybe if we can fix it, we can at least have water to drink.”

I bent down and examined underneath the sink. It looked as though someone had come in earlier and taken apart the pipes, leaving it all in disarray in the cabinet. I reached into what was still attached and pulled off an old rubber band and dried mud crumbled in my hand.

Bruce came and stood over me. “Guess we’re sleeping in the living room. The bedrooms got taken.”

I looked up. “How many bedrooms?”

“Three.”

“Priscilla took one?” I asked. “That sneaky bitch.”

THE SUN WENT DOWN, and what I really wanted was a glass of water. The clean trickle was long gone, so I turned the handle down and then turned it back on. There was a gurgling, but nothing came out.

“Robert?” I shouted.

“I’m upstairs!” he said.

“Do you know anything about plumbing?”

“I know now that the upstairs bathroom is no longer working!”

“No one said you could use that!” Debra shouted.

“Sit and spin, you cruddy skank!” Robert retorted.

I walked toward the stairs and looked up.

“Do I need to separate you two?” I asked. “Make you sit in your ‘get along’ corner?”

There was silence.

“So no word on how to work plumbing?” I asked. “Was the bathroom ever working?”

“I don’t think so,” Robert said, much calmer. “But I used it anyway.”

I rolled my eyes while I felt my bladder ache and beg for relief. I picked up my jacket and threw it on.

Bruce pointed at me. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Well, I have to go to the bathroom, and the plumbing doesn’t work in this house.”

“You’re not going outside.”

“Where am I supposed to go?”

Bruce shrugged. “Maybe wait until I have to go?”

I rolled my eyes. “Do you have to go now?”

“Nah, I just went about five minutes ago. There was a spot outside the front door.”

“I have been waiting to go for hours, hoping I’d live my dream of indoor plumbing,” I said. “Hours.”

“Make it quick then,” he said.

I ran out and behind the house, ducked behind a rock and unbuckled my pants. Just before I could let anything go, I heard a noise. It was a howl followed by a woman cackling. Probably the creepiest thing I had ever heard, especially since I was vulnerable and cold with my pants around my ankles. I went to button them back up.

“Are you done yet?” Bruce asked impatiently.

“Did you hear that?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Do you think it’s close by?”

I closed my eyes and hummed a few bars of Let It Go . I struggled with my pants after I was done. “It’s creepy out here. I think we should go back inside.”

“Good,” he said. “It’s getting cold out here.”

He shivered deep inside his jacket as the sound went up again. I touched his arm.

“There it is.”

“Did you wash your hands?”

I removed my arm.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “There’s nowhere to wash your hands out here.”

He made a face. There was another howl, and I shoved my hands into my pockets.

“Let’s just get out of here,” I said. “I don’t want to know what that voice belongs to.”

“Yeah, well now I have to go,” Bruce said. “Stay here.”

With that, he scampered deeper in, tripped over several branches, and then hid behind a tree.

There was the sound of another woman cackling, and I could have sworn there were footsteps coming from just a few feet away.

“Bruce!” I whispered. “Please hurry.”

“I can’t if you’re distracting me!” he shouted.

“Keep your voice down!” I hissed.

“What?”

“I said keep your voice down!”

“What?” he said even louder.

“Forget it.”

I made myself small as I crouched near a bush, hoping for camouflage. Eventually, Bruce appeared, pulling up his pants, then zipping them.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “I almost didn’t see you.”

“It’s terrifying out here,” I said. “Didn’t you ever see Blair Witch or Paranormal Activity ?”

“Nothing’s going to happen to us. You act like you’ve never been outside at night.”

“I haven’t! Not since the Incident, at least.”

“Oh.” He stopped to think about it. “Well, you haven’t missed anything.”

He took my hand and jerked me back toward the house.

“So now we don’t care about the whole washing your hands thing,” I said.

“You’re never going to survive with an attitude like that,” he said.

“Just asking for some consistency, that’s all.”

He let go of my hand as we rushed back inside.

He didn’t answer, knowing I just wanted to get back in the house, but we stopped when the sound of branches breaking underfoot came from behind us. I was paralyzed with fear, but afraid to look over and see Bruce’s reaction.

“Did you hear that?” I murmured.

“Yes,” he whispered back. He tightly gripped my hand.

“Why aren’t we moving?” I asked.

Silence.

The footsteps started again. I sucked my breath in and moved forward, but Bruce wasn’t.

“Let’s go!” I said.