Daphne Lamb: The Girl's Guide to the Apocalypse

Bruce took off running, and I quickly followed, but he was much faster than I was. I tried to keep up the best I could. The worst part was the footsteps were running behind us, gaining, followed by the woman’s cackling.

The house was up ahead, and Bruce reached it long before I did. He rushed inside and slammed the door behind him. I reached it and tugged on it, but it wouldn’t open. I banged on it.

“Bruce!” I yelled. “Open up! It’s me!”

I kept trying the door, but it was clearly locked. My fear quickly turned in to anger.

I looked behind me, and while I couldn’t see anyone, the hair on the back of my neck was raised. I knew I was being watched. I started to run again, this time around the length of the house where I found the fence, which I scaled, then jumped straight into the muddy and disastrous backyard. I hit a sloppy puddle, reopened the wound on my knee. I winced in pain.

“Bruce!” I yelled. “Open the door!”

I struggled to get up on my feet and then stumbled to the back door, which was unlocked. I let myself inside and braced myself against the wall, the pain searing through my leg.

Bruce appeared in the hallway. “All the bedrooms are still taken. Want to make a fort in the living room?”

I incredulously stared at him.

I was so tired.

So limped into the living room.

* * *

It’s amazing what the power of a good night’s sleep can do. It can make you have a better outlook and make things around seem not as daunting as the night before. I wish I knew what that was like. Instead, I tossed and turned, feeling my muscles jerk with every noise from outside. And then I watched the sun come up and illuminate the state of the house, which was somehow more disgusting than it was the night before.

I heard a shuffling around the kitchen, so I rolled over, opened my eyes and saw Debra rummaging through the cupboards. Most of the shelves were bare, but occasionally she would pick up that same box of Fruit Roll-Ups over and over, stare at it, put it back, then repeat a few moments later.

All I could think about was how thirsty I was, but the hunger was becoming a close second in terms of thoughts.

“Rosario!” Debra shouted.

There was no answer. I laid there thinking it was strange and wondered momentarily if Debra had finally snapped. Then it dawned on me. It was almost as though she took some sort of glee in not remembering Priscilla’s name.

“Rosario!” she tried again.

I got up, stepped over Bruce and headed over to the kitchen.

“Have you seen Rosario?” Debra asked.

I shook my head. “No Rosario, but I think there’s another person with a different name,” I said.

Debra rolled her eyes. “Give it time,” she said. “She’ll answer to it whether she wants to or not.”

“Really don’t think that’s fair,” I said. “You know she lost her husband yesterday, not to mention everything else she had in life.”

“If you’re so smart,” Debra folded her arms, “then what’s her name?”

“Well.” My mind suddenly went blank. “It’s not Maria…”

Debra pointed her finger in my face. “Ah-ha!” she said. “You don’t know either.”

“Well, I did know it,” I said. “Maybe we should just ask her.”

She waved my sentence away, then looked up and smiled at Robert coming from the upstairs.

“That mattress had no lumbar support!” he announced. “I am going to be stiff all day so don’t expect any hard labor out of me.”

“Screw your complaints,” Debra said. “Another day and there’s nothing in here but carbs and empty calories. I mean…” She threw up her hands in frustration. “It shouldn’t be that hard to make an egg white and kale frittata.”

Robert stopped short of the kitchen. “Well, there has to be something.”

Debra shook her head. “I have scoured this place up and down. Nothing.”

Robert gave off a heavy sigh. “Maybe Maria can make us something.”

“Her name isn’t Maria,” I said. “But it’s not Imelda either…”

I drifted off into heavy thought. Mercedes, Rosa, Maria. Nothing was right.

“Well, good luck getting her down here,” she said. “I’ve been calling her all morning.”

“Her name isn’t Mary either,” I said.

“Then you call it,” she snapped.

“It?” I asked. “It? That’s your gentler alternative?”

“Shhhhh!”

I looked over and saw Bruce sitting up in the makeshift bed with a finger over his lips.

“Dude, I’m sleeping here!” he said, annoyed.

Robert pointed at him “How’s that mattress?”

Bruce shrugged. “Okay.”

“Like, okay how?” he asked. “Was it orthopedic?”

“Not really,” he said. “But I found a spot that was supportive of my lower back. Shoulders were a little lacking.”

Robert snapped his fingers. “You interested in a trade? I slept on one with flowers and clowns on it. My feet hung off and it smelled weird, but it’d probably be more your speed.”

“Like what kind of smell?”

My stomach growled as the three voices rose in their discomfort of life. I glanced out the window and caught a glimpse of our other houseguest, the one who’s name no one could remember, wandering out toward the neighboring houses.

“I’m going to go look for food,” I said.

No one heard me. So I turned around, grabbed my sweatshirt and walked out the door. I shut it hard with a satisfying slam behind me, giving them one last chance to realize I had gone. Even through the closed door, I heard them continue to argue loudly.

Our house guest had long gone off beyond my vision. Unfortunately, I still couldn’t remember her name.

“Mercedes?” I called out.

There was no answer.

I continued to walk up the hill when my foot hit something. I looked down and saw the remnants of a hose. I bent down and pulled it out as far as it would go. The opening snaked out, getting part of my pants wet from a consistent trickle of water that came out of it.

The hose was connected to a house farther up. It was even more dilapidated than the one we’d been staying in, but it was worth checking out. I hiked up to one of the windows and tried to peer in. It was filthy and almost impossible to see through. I thought I saw movement, but wasn’t sure.

“Lupita!”

No answer.

I looked around and grabbed the body of the hose, lying on the ground and tried to lift it out as much as I could. It was heavy and unwieldy, but I managed to also screw on the spigot as far as it would go.

When I got back to the house, dragging the hose on the ground, the arguing was still going on.

“Science has proven we weren’t meant to carry so much gluten in our bodies!” Debra pressed on.

“Trade me,” Robert said. “Another night’s sleep and I’m going to be in no shape to move anywhere, much less running from my life. Again.”

“Look, you had your chance—”

Robert held up his book. “According to Secrets of Risk Management , knowledgeable professionals must be responsible for executing effective risk management programs by taking an objective perspective without consequences.”

We sat in silence. I tried to piece through the meaning of all those words, which felt a little like trying to drive while blindfolded.

“I guess no one can argue with that,” Debra said.

I went outside and around back where the kitchen window was. I slid the hose through it and into the sink where water collected in the sink.

When I returned back into the house, the arguing continued so I ignored the three of them and pushed past Debra to the kitchen sink.

“I think that relates—” she started.

Finally Robert noticed, because he interrupted the two of them.