And then they woke up

The girl was huddled by the fire, cradling a can of soup she had taken from the old store on the corner. Stars were appearing in the sky as the sun hid from the day that had been and darkness settled over the street, sealing in the cold and dolor that had taken over the girl’s bones. Her patrol to the neighbouring suburbs had proven to be less fruitful than she had hoped. It had been three months since everyone left, and the girl had been working tirelessly since then to find answers.

There were not many people still living in the street then, most had moved to the cities. So, while the girl could assume that is where the rest of them went too, she did not. The homes were still full of people’s belongings. Doors were unlocked, and pantries were stocked, as if they were expecting people to return. The fire crackled and jumped as she stared into the glowing coals. She spent most of her time outside these days, because going into the houses felt invasive, and the empty rooms cast shadows of the past across the walls that made her feel as though she was living someone else’s life.

The girl put her can on the ground beside her and rubbed her hands together to keep them warm, before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small, gold, heart-shaped locket. She was not sure exactly how it came into her possession – she thought maybe it had belonged to her mother – but for some reason, she felt safer when she had it on her person. She turned the locket over in her hands, running her fingers along the edge. She had never opened the locket, and she was unsure why. It had just never seemed like the right thing to do. Now, though, the street seemed more quiet than before, and the air around the girl clung to her, as if huddling behind her to see what she would do next. Her heartbeat was so loud she wouldn’t be surprised if it was inside the locket, banging and pleading to be let out. Whispers of voices that were almost familiar tickled the corners of her mind.

Open it.

Do it, open it.

The girl returned the locket to her pocket and stood up, the urge to open it receding like the tide before a tsunami. She yawned and rubbed her eyes, the hours she had spent awake in comparison to asleep were catching up with her. Even though it made her uncomfortable, the girl always went inside to sleep, the comfort of a bed in winter outweighing the feelings of intrusion she felt, even in her own home. When she entered her room, the girl noticed that her sheets were disturbed, like someone had been sleeping in them. She was sure she had made the bed when she woke up last, but now she was not certain. Had she already slept? Was someone using her bed?

Things like this had been happening to her more frequently lately. Things would move from where she thought she left them and the girl was beginning to wonder if her memory was failing her, or if something else was at play. The girl took a long, deep breath, exhaling dramatically; something she had done since she was young to try and expel any negative energy she had accumulated during the day. She was getting paranoid after so long on her own, she thought.

The girl crawled into bed, pulling her sheets up to her chin and curling into her sleeping position: knees tucked towards her chest, one hand under the pillow and the other gripping the sheets. As her eyes blinked slowly closed, a plea could be heard, as faint as the fluttering of eyelashes. Let go. Come back. The tsunami hit, and the girl was pulled into a chaotic dream.

A machine beeped in the corner of the room, and the girl thought it was strange: she had not heard the sounds of machines in a long time. She turned her gaze towards the machine with some effort, and saw what looked like a hospital monitor, with vital signs being displayed. She did not know for sure, but they seemed to be declining. She could not see who was hooked up to this machine as her vision blurred and hearing became muffled if she tried, like looking through squinted eyes underwater, so she took in her surroundings instead. The room was a pale blue, with a white ceiling and a marble-look vinyl floor. It looked like it should be a hospital room, but for some reason, the girl was certain this was not the case. The girl recognised that this dream was something more than that.

“She needs to come out, we need to shut it down.” The girl tried to turn in the direction the woman’s voice came from, but could not.

A man spoke next, “She never should have gone in to begin with. She lied to us, and it could ruin everything.”

The girl was lying in a bed, now. At least, that is how it felt. Everything was dark. A warm hand held her own, and a gentle voice, one she almost recognised, spoke to her in hushed tones. “Clara, my dear, I know you are scared. I know things here are not the best for you, and it feels easier to run away, but you cannot stay. We need you to come home now.” The girl felt her chest tighten and her stomach churn. She felt as though she knew this “Clara” the woman was talking to. She felt that she knew Clara did not want to do what was being asked of her.

The beeping machines returned again, as did the male’s voice. The room was still dark. “Did this scenario fail because of her? There are too many unknowns with this. Our results are skewed, we have no idea what might be coming next now.”

The girl recognised that she was feeling guilt. But why? The darkness around her began to spin and fade and the girl felt a pressure in her head that grew quickly. A loud, prolonged beep sounded, and there was a sudden, blinding flash of white light.

The girl practically fell out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, where she crumpled to the floor by the bathtub and vomited. Her body heaved and shook, a pressure behind the girl’s eyes forced her to keep them closed, and the floor moved underneath her. She felt as though she was being ripped from her body by something, but was stuck, or resisting it. She did not know how long she fought the feelings her body was cycling through, but eventually she regained some autonomy, and pulled herself up to stand in front of the mirror at the vanity basin.

The girl had wanted to go on another patrol today, and had even been considering taking the neighbour’s bicycle so she could go further, but her sea-legs and the fact her vision shifted between seeing double or triple indicated to her that maybe she needed to stay home. There was a sound that reverberated around her head like the beep of a machine that she could not shake. The girl was unsettled. She knew these feelings had something to do with the dream she had last night, but she was not sure what.

The girl changed her clothes, took a blanket from her bed and filled a cup with water, before leaving the house to stoke her fire once more. As the flames grew, the girl thought about the days just before she found everyone gone. They were hazy, as if she was looking at them through an opaque window. The girl had thought a lot about these days, wishing she could piece together anything that might be a hint as to what happened. Please, give me something, the girl pleaded with herself, not that it usually worked this way.

The wind was sweeping through the street as though it was completing her patrol for her. It seemed to drop memories in the girl’s lap for her to look at, but the girl couldn’t see their relevance yet. The day the announcement came that the cities were opening, the girl was helping her mother cook dinner. She asked her mother if they would go. The girl remembers the look on her mother’s face in that moment more clearly than anything else about her.

“The city is not for us, Carla,” her mother had said, locking eyes with the girl, an unwavering coldness washing over the girl as she looked back at her mother.

“Why not?” In hindsight, the girl recognised the emotions that crossed her mother’s face ever so briefly to be confusion, relief and fear all at once. At the time, though, she thought it was frustration.

“The city is not safe. Not for… us.”

The girl pressed her thumbs into her temples. She did not know what her mother meant even now. She had been to the city on one of her patrols, and everything seemed normal, if not a little quiet. If the city wasn’t safe, why did her mother seem to have gone there? Why without her? And why couldn’t she find her?

The girl reached into her pocket and took out the locket, turning it over again in her hands. The urge to open it built inside her like a wave, but the wave never crashed, it just melted back into the sea and rose again, over and over. The familiar voices breathed their demands into the wind, which carried them to the girl.

Open the locket, Carla.

You will find what you seek.

Open it.

The girl felt a queasiness rise in her stomach, and the girl squeezed her fist around the locked and closed her eyes. A swirling darkness that felt like fear and home at the same time met her and she opened her eyes again in shock.

You’re almost home.

The girl looked around the street, and felt that she could not recognise it anymore. Her hands shook and her mouth was dry, she moved to pick up her cup of water and knocked it over. Why was she afraid? Her eyes darted back and forth along the street, and found that houses she thought were grey were white, and others simply did not exist. The girl unclenched her fist and noticed small beads of blood appearing on her palm. She had not felt the pain, but the locket had dug into her skin and left cuts.

Can you hear us Clara?

Clara? The girl dropped the locket in surprise, and it burst open upon contact with the ground. Like moving in a dream, she bent forward slowly before reaching hesitantly to pick it up. Clara? Why did that feel right to her?

A small piece of paper was folded into the locket. It looked new, not old as it would be assumed. The girl unfolded the paper, shaky fingers threatening to drop it or tear it. She felt that she was close to something, her breath was shallow and her shoulders were tight. Written in blue ink and small, tidy handwriting was a simple demand:

WAKE UP CLARA.

Wake up? The girl blinked, and blinding white light flooded her vision, a rapid beeping sound growing louder as she felt like she was being pulled upwards and out of her body. The light eased and her body slowed, and she heard the voice of a male, both exasperated and relieved, say:

“Welcome home, Clara. We have a lot to talk about.”