Fear the Colonel.

This dystopian wasteland.

It disgusts me.

A newly mutated virus every ten minutes. Culture down the toilet. Our so-called ‘leaders’ nothing more than savage criminals.

Where the fuck was she?

Claire had been gone too long.

Anxiety surged through my body like a hit of pure cocaine.

My forehead began to sweat as I looked out across the filth that had been the pride of this once great nation.

I was worried. She never took this long. Unless. I shook the thought out of my mind.

Claire was always telling me to stay positive. She believed I invited too much negative energy into my life with all my worrying.

But so much can go wrong now. Especially with him out there. Lurking. Waiting for a moment of weakness.

Was she wearing the locket?

My mind raced back to when she kissed me goodbye, and we hugged extra-long, just in case. I distinctly remembered feeling it against my chest. Her heart-shaped locket trapped between our beating hearts.

Inside the locket was a note to herself. A promise to be strong. To be vigilant.

Fuck. I should have gone to get supplies.

One of us had to go. Claire had insisted that I was not a well man and that she should go. It was safer that way. Why the hell did I agree!?

The waiting killed me. So much could go wrong. Where was she? It didn’t make sense. She always took the necessary precautions.

I was trying to make myself feel better. But deep down, in my churning stomach, I knew it was him.

On the streets, they called him the ‘Colonel’. To us, he was the devil.

He hunted for Claire above all others. He wanted her. One mistake, one slip-up, and it would be over. But what worried me the most is that in the dark recesses of her mind, she wanted the Colonel to release her from the pain.

Lightning cracked across the sky and thunder boomed shaking me to my core. The earth was dying.

The first pandemic in 2019 had lit the fuse that led to my mental health collapse. My anxiety was at fever pitch, the voice in my head crueller and more persistent than ever.

It was always this way when I am left alone. When Claire was gone. What would I do if she never came back?

I lit my last cigarette and allowed my thoughts to drift to a long hot bath and a razor blade.

I wanted to scream. I was screaming. Silently, with every pore of my body.

He had trapped her this time. I knew it. It was my fault. I sent Claire to her fate. Hiding at home like a coward as she faced the dangers of our crumbling society all by herself.

The cigarette burned down to my fingertips. That’s when I broke. From deep within my soul came an almighty scream that rivalled the thunder outside.

For a moment I had peace.

I slowly made my way to the bathroom. My green mile. It was time.

CLICK

The door!

I raced back through the lounge room to see Claire looking like a longshoreman, drenched to the bone and laden with supplies.

“Where have you been!? What happened?? I have been so worried. I thought the Colonel had got you!!”

Claire’s head was down. Something was wrong.

She was crying.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Look at me. What happened? Everything is OK. You made it!”

Her shoulders hung low. Defeated. I didn’t understand. I looked among the supplies to see if there was some clue to what had occurred but there was nothing.

“Please baby talk to me. What happened out there?”

I reached out to hold her, but she shrugged me away.

Slowly, she grabbed a large nondescript white plastic bag.

“What’s in the bag, Claire?”

Silence.

“Claire. Tell me. You’re scaring me!” I pushed.

“JUST LOOK INSIDE!!!”

Her scream made me jump as she fell back into a chair, tears streaming down her face.

I slowly reached for the bag. It was heavy.

Claire was now looking me dead in the eyes. She’d never looked so sad. So broken.

As I slowly opened the bag my worst fears were realised, and I felt the blood drain from my face.

“I guess it’s over then.” I said slowly, quietly.

Snatching the bag away from me she moved to the table.

Wiping her tears from her face, Claire stuffed huge bites of her double zinger burger into her mouth while mumbling:

“No, (gulp) the diet is not fucking over. We still have three months till this fucking wedding. Tonight is just (gulp) a hiccup!”

Silence.

“What about the locket? Didn’t that help with…” I whispered more to myself than to Claire.

The first burger was all but gone now.

“The stupid locket (gulp) didn’t do shit, Tim! But I got you some potato and (gulp) gravy. Now let me watch MasterChef and eat my fucking KFC in peace!!!”

“Yes, dear.”

The Colonel always wins.