REMI
How many days has it been?
Since I’ve had something other than canned food.
Since I’ve last seen sunshine.
Since I’ve last heard another person’s voice.
The marks I’ve scratched into the wall say it’s been sixty-eight days, but I’m pretty sure I’m off by a few, if not a week.
You’d think that after hiding in a janitorial closet for so long, I’d be eager to re-enter the world. That would be wrong.
I’m terrified. So much so that the thought of starving to death in this ten-by-ten closet seems like a mercy compared to what’s waiting for me outside.
It started months ago. Reports on the radio that seemed more fiction than fact. Then, the government broadcasted a message saying any reports of the dead rising were completely fabricated, and anyone reporting such lies would be apprehended for causing widespread chaos.
Yeah, that’s right—I said the dead rising.
At the time, it sounded laughable. We thought the people in charge were just having fun because of how crazy people were acting. The few that actually took the reports seriously were ridiculed.
When supply chains broke down, the government blamed it on global warming, the energy crisis, Russia, China, too many vacant jobs. It turned neighbor against neighbor, because we were so desperate to blame something tangible.
Debates were held on the radio. People arguing about voting rights, government obligation, laziness, and every other thing you could possibly disagree on. They were addicting to listen to, not for the theories themselves, but because those on-air weren’t civil. They yelled, screamed, and demanded they get their way—or else! They were prone towards angry outbursts that left us hankering for more.
Then, one day, all radio channels ceased and were replaced by government broadcasts. At first, they said we were going through a recession, then a pandemic. They told lie after lie, and people believed them because it gave them comfort to know that there was someone fixing the problems. We’ll get through this, they said, as long as we listen to those in charge.
It’s laughable now, because the government was basically saying, “Listen to us. Do exactly as we say.” But that’s not the funny part. The funny part is where we obeyed.
At first, they told us to keep on with our lives while being mindful of our resources. Eat less, work more, careful what you throw away because that shirt with the hole in the neckline just became more valuable.
Nightly curfews came, followed by shelter in place orders. We couldn’t leave our apartment unless it was absolutely necessary. Essential workers were given special passes to be out, but everyone else, including children, were to stay at home. School was taught over the radio, but I no one was learning. I know this because I’d sneak out to hang with my friends.
To reinforce their orders, the government sent men into the city to stand on street corners with guns. They called them the Civil Police. They didn’t look like the military. Their suits were black, giving them the moniker black suits, and they had shields that covered their faces.
People with CB radios began to whisper about reports from other cities. I say whisper because they had to be discreet. If anyone found out they were talking with people outside the city, they’d get taken away by the black suits.
That should have clued people into their bad intentions, but we were so desperate to believe there was hope, we praised the black suits and condemned anyone who spoke out against the government.
My own family praised the black suits…
Then one day, we woke up. Not in the metaphorical sense where we suddenly realized the injustices of the world. We literally woke up to the screams of our neighbors.
Overnight, the city had descended into chaos. People were screaming, running through the streets covered in blood.
And if you thought things couldn’t get any worse than that, you’d be wrong, because then our building caught fire.
My mother, father, and I made it out of the building alive, but there was carnage in the streets. Death and destruction everywhere.
My parents didn’t make it.
I ran through the alleys as sirens blared and cars crashed, chased by savage beasts that once called themselves human.
It’s a miracle I managed to stay alive. There were so many times I almost gave up. Sometimes, as I stare at the markings on the wall, I wish I had.
I was nearly cornered, but a door in a back alley was unlocked. I rushed inside, up several flights of stairs, eventually finding a closet stocked with supplies.
It was in the center of the building, so it wouldn’t attract the attention of anyone outside looking in. Was it ideal? No. But it became my shelter in the storm.