Being married comes with its benefits. Most notably that I am no longer planning a wedding and I have this thing called free time. It's amazing. If you don't do free time already, you should try it. So with my free time I have finally started writing a series that I have wanted to write for ages. It's probably not all that great, but it's in my head and I want it out of my head. So here you go. I'll be updating every Tuesday. And yes, it's about zombies.
Today's Reason Why I'm Hypo: I did extremely light exercise yesterday. So Diabetes decided that 6am is a great wake-up time.
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Concrete, metal and glass. A man-made jungle of blocks rose
before me, unseen in the dark night sky.
I remembered the nights when it never really was night. When each building became a beacon of light
rising into the sky. When a warm glow filled the air overhead, as a chatter of
voices and collection of noises carried below. Now it was dark. It was still.
Quiet. Man-made light no longer stood as testament to the lives that created it
and used it. All that was left to show that we had once lived our lives here
were the empty rectangles, jutting against the moonlight.
*******
I stepped quietly and hesitantly from the tree cover. My
sight set on the dark shed of house number 11 on my list. It was a still night,
which was a good night. I could never scavenge on a windy night. The tree cover
rocked too much, hiding any dangers that might disturb them and give me the
warning signs I had learnt to look for.
I had a 20 meter dash ahead of me, through long grass that whipped about
my ankles. I moved as quickly as I could without creating too much of a
disturbance.
One foot quietly in front of the other. Remembering the rule never to pause until I
was back under cover. Life had lots of little rules like that now. Rules that
kept me alive. I trusted them more than I would have trusted the old laws of
civilization.
I reached the middle of the wooden structure,
twisting quickly to put my back against the windowless panels. My eyes darting
and scanning quickly the area I had just run through to make sure I hadn't
attracted any unwanted attention. The grass was still. The air was still. The
only movement now came from within me, as I exhaled the breath that I
permanently held these days.
I took a moment to concentrate on myself. On the way my skin
felt. Not clammy. Not sweaty, or hot or cold. I concentrated on whether or not
I could concentrate. Once I assured myself I was fine I quietly sidled around
the corner to make my way toward the main building. I jiggled the knob of the
back door. It didn't budge. The house could be what I called 'intact'. Which
was both a good, yet dangerous thing. An intact house was a house that hadn't
been looted yet, where I might find supplies. From previous experience I also
knew that intact houses might be fully intact, complete with original occupants.
Whether they were alive or dead was a different issue.
I inserted my tension wrench into the lock, applying torque
to the cylinder. I selected a pick from the set I had with me
and inserted it into the lock. A few jiggles later and I felt the lock open up.
I always got nervous before I entered a house. It was
never just a house. It was cover from the cold night air. It was a silencer from
the howls outside. Maybe it was finding some sheets in the cupboard that hadn't
been slept in for 100 nights straight. There was no washing anymore so sheets
that didn't smell were almost as good as Christmas. Better even, because
Christmas doesn't exist anymore.
And the houses that I went into? They were even better
because there might be life inside. Small glass vials of expired life.
