I'll Meet You There

Well babe, I made it. I can’t breathe for dust, and there are spiders everywhere, but that’s a good sign. The cupboards all look full and there’s plenty of bottled water to keep us going. The mattress has seen better days, but I’m not complaining.

Get here soon, won’t you? I miss you.

…

It’s soup for dinner, straight from the can. God it’s so good to have something hot again. I found the camping stove under the sink, tucked behind the pans. We’ve only got six cannisters though, and they’re small, so we’re going to run out of gas pretty soon. At least we don’t need to cook the beans. Or the tuna. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much tuna.

…

I’ve lit a fire. It’s a little risky, I know, but I’m pretty sure no one will see the smoke. You said no one else has a cabin out this way, and I didn’t pass anyone on the road - not for days. It’s getting dark out anyway. These blankets are too thin and I don’t want to freeze.

…

I can’t sleep. I’m so tired, but my eyes won’t stay shut. The wind’s rattling the windows and every time a branch snaps outside I can feel it in my chest.

Yes, you’re right, silence would be worse.

I’m going to try and read, even if the firelight is a little low. You’ve got quite a library here, and I don’t think I’ve read anything on these shelves. I don’t even recognise the titles. I bet you’ve not read any of them either.

…

I’ve decided I’ll clean today. Get the place in order. There’s a broom by the door and an old cloth I can use to wipe the sides down. This locket could probably do with a good polish, too.

The woods are stunning. Now that it’s properly daylight, I can make out the lake behind the trees. I might go for a wander once I’m done, just to get a feel for the place. I’ll leave a note, in case you arrive while I’m out. Wouldn’t that be something? I’ll come back and there you’ll be, relieved and exhausted, stuffing your face with biscuits.

…

There are blackberry bushes fairly close by. I stopped to pick a few on my walk, but I hadn’t brought anything to carry them back with me so I ate them while I was there. I’ll go back tomorrow with a bowl. If we were home, I’d make a crumble. Do you think we’ll ever have crumble again?

We had crumble that time by the river, do you remember? With Dan and Kim. We went swimming and drank wine. We played cards. Kim played music from her phone and we danced.

I hope they were together when it happened. They probably were. I hope it was quick.

…

On a cloudless night, you can really see the stars. You always loved that about the country. The air is cool and fresh. I can’t remember what all the different constellations are called, but tonight you would have found them all.

…

I discovered a few packs of seeds in one of the drawers. I’m going to dig out a bed for them round the back. The ground is pretty soft, so it shouldn’t take me too long. We can grow potatoes, leeks, and carrots. And there’s chard. Chard's a kind of lettuce, right?

I’m not entirely sure how to keep the rabbits off once they start growing. We don’t have any netting. Could I set up some sort of trap? I’ll figure it out. That might also give us something else to eat. I’ve never had rabbit before, but everything’s good in a stew.

…

I shot a man. It was back at the beginning. I screamed at him to stay away but he just kept on coming. Even if he couldn’t hear me, he could see I had a gun, so he must have been delirious. Which meant he had it, right?

I see his face sometimes. He looked confused, blood spluttering from his open mouth. I could feel my legs shaking even as I ran.

I know you’ll do whatever it takes to get here. You promised, and I believe you.

…

I caught a fish with a sharpened stick. A big one too, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to hit it. You’d have been impressed. I waded into the lake, around three feet deep, and jabbed at anything that moved. Only took me half an hour. Nothing to season it with, but never mind. There must be some variety of herb growing somewhere, but I’ve not come across anything so far. There are definitely lots of nettles. I can probably make a nettle dressing, like mint dressing. People used to make nettle soup.

…

Where are you, babe? You should be here already. Hurry.

…

We’re out of gas, so I just cook on the fire now. It’s not a problem, but it means that I only eat hot in the evening. I’ve also been collecting water from the lake some days and boiling it after dinner. Once it’s cooled a little I use it to clean my clothes. They’re all worn through but at least they don’t smell anymore. Once we’re out of bottles I suppose this is what we’ll do for drinking water. The pans are pretty heavy when filled, so I’m certainly giving my arms a good workout. My muscles used to ache like crazy at the end of the day, but it’s not so bad anymore. I must have gotten used to it. When winter comes we can fill bowls with snow and let them melt. That’ll be easier.

…

The potatoes are growing nicely, although I think they might have choked out the carrots. Next time I’ll plant them further apart. There are mushrooms at the foot of a tree just a hundred yards or so from the cabin, but I’m too afraid to try them. I heard a horror story about wild mushrooms once, so I’m not going to risk it.

…

Where are you? Fuck, where are you!? You were here a second ago. You have to be close, there’s no current. The water is still. Okay, breathe. The water is clear. I’ll find you. Breathe. Stupid fucking fish. Breathe.

There you are. I can see the gold chain sticking out of the mud. Yes, here you are. Let me open you up. Let me look at you. Yes, it’s you. You and your gorgeous smile. You and your long, messy hair. There you are.

One of the links has broken – that must be how you slipped off – so I don’t think I can wear you anymore, at least not around my neck. Maybe I can turn you into a bracelet or something. Don’t ever do that again! Don’t leave me again.

…

The days are starting to get shorter. It’s still dark when I wake up. By the time I’ve collected the water and found something safe to eat it’s getting dark again. And it’s been raining more and more. When it’s really pouring it down I lie on the mattress and listen to the rain bouncing off the roof. Fortunately it’s still warm by the fire and nothing is leaking yet. Right now I can hear thunder in the distance, but it doesn’t seem to be getting any closer.

…

I wonder how many made it out? We can’t be the only ones. It spread so fast that I don’t see how anyone could have survived in the big cities, but perhaps in the smaller towns and villages? There must have been people already living in cabins like this. There must have been farmers on their own up in the hills.

Do you think one day we’ll get together and start again? Start rebuilding? Would that even be a good idea? I don’t know if I’d want that. I just want to be here, keeping things simple, with you.

You did get out, didn’t you babe? You’re on your way, aren’t you?

…

The problem with snow is that I leave tracks. I doubt there’s anyone around, and there can’t be anyone still alive with it, but I don’t want to be followed. I do my best to brush away my footprints with a branch, but it’s far from perfect and takes too long. I’ll just have to hope no one comes this way.

The ground is frozen solid, there’s ice on the lake, and most of the trees are bare. All there is to eat are tins and whatever I can catch, which isn’t much. I’ll be fine this winter, but I’m starting to worry about the next one. I need to find a way of preserving food, that way I can make sure I'll carry over whatever I grow in the summer. Do I need salt for that? Or sugar? We don’t have either. All these books and none on food preservation.

…

I wonder where you are. Are you thinking about me? Have you forgotten me? Did you decide I wasn’t worth the risk and go your own way? Do you talk to me, the way I talk to you?

If you’d been with me when it happened then it all could have gone so differently. We’d have made it out together, and you’d be here, keeping me close.

Why did you have to go?

…

I tried the mushrooms. I rubbed them on my lips and waited a day, and nothing happened. I put a small piece on my tongue, then chewed, then eventually swallowed. Still nothing. They’re safe. One more source of food, so long as I don’t harvest them all at once.

…

I remember when you gave this to me - this golden, heart-shaped locket. It was my birthday, and honestly I kind of thought it was tacky, but I loved it all the same. The photo of you on the inside is starting to fade, I don’t know why. Must be something to do with the sunlight. I must be looking at you too much. I don’t want to forget, so I look at you a lot.

Oh, I’m crying. Ugh. Maybe I can use the salt to keep the fish from going bad.

…

There’s blossom on the branches and the chill has gone from the wind. I’m digging up the garden again, ready for planting. It’s a shame we don’t have any onions. I liked onions - they go with everything.

…

I read once that nature abhors a vacuum. Strong vines climb up crumbling buildings. Empty rooms fill with moss and grass grows tall through cracks in the road. Maybe I didn’t read it, maybe I saw it on a documentary instead. I think it’s actually a physics thing. All the same, I’d like to see that one day. One day I’ll go exploring and witness what the world’s become.

…

I’m awake too suddenly.

It’s pitch black. The fire died sometime during the night and my eyes need a moment to adjust. My head is cloudy, but adrenaline is already starting to pump its way around my body.

Something’s outside. I can hear movement by the door - ground crunching beneath its weight.

I try to quiet my breathing. I can’t see my rifle, but there’s an axe resting against the wall just an arm’s length away. I can reach it. I only need to move slowly. I just need to get to my feet.

They’re knocking.

I’ve lost my voice. I don’t know what to say. I clasp the gold metal tight in my hands. So tight it stings. Whoever they are, they’re knocking.

Now the door is squeaking open.

Please, god, please, let it be you.