Authors: Daniel Clarke
Dying Time
Dying Time
By
Daniel Clarke
http://danclarkewriting.wordpress.com
Many thanks to my Mother,
who put up with my stories while I
lived at home.
And thanks to my wife,
who has helped me achieve
my dreams.
Daycare
Rebecca fell to the floor.
So tired, so bloody tired,
she thought. Her body shook as she cried, all the tears she’d been holding since that morning were released in violent convulsive sobs. She wrapped her arms around herself, and let it all out. It was too much for her, it would be too much for anyone. Why did it happen? What had they done to deserve this?
What had she done to deserve this?
“
Miss Anthony,” a tired, high pitched voice said. “Miss Anthony, are you all right.”
Rebecca looked up wiping her face on her filthy sleeve. “Yes Angela, I’m all right,” she answered the young girl. “I just fell, and gave myself a bobo,” she was talking like a five year old now. “Do you need anything?”
“
Can I have a glass of water?”
“
I’m sorry, Angela but we ne-” she stopped herself. Why shouldn’t she give the girl a glass of water. They were nearly out, one glass wouldn’t matter now. “I’ll get you a small glass.”
Angela smiled, and watched as Rebecca grabbed the last of the small bottles of water. Only a half full, five litre jug remained now. “Thank you Miss Anthony,” she said as she drank.
Rebecca took the glass from her, and walked her back to her blanket in the middle of the play room floor. Kissing Angela’s cheek she looked over the nine children still in her care. None older then eight, no one under four. A nice mix of boys and girls. Everyone from a nice middle class families. Every single one an orphan.
She stepped over the sleeping children. She had looked after them for two weeks, all alone. Trying to keep their minds off the lose of their parents. Keeping them entertained when they couldn’t go outside. Trying to keep them clean. Trying to keep them fed. She wished it was different.
If only their parents had survived to pick them up. If only her co-workers had stayed around. If only the police, or the military had helped. If only the zombies hadn’t risen up and eaten everyone. If only she had been willing to abandon them all on the slim hope of getting to somewhere safe.
If only.
Tiffany had left in the first hour, followed by Aby, Debra and Paloma leaving together five hours later. Parents had streamed in the entire day grabbing their children. By the end only John, a maintenance man for the building, and eleven children were left. Before John left he had helped her barricade the stairway leading downstairs, and made sure the fire escape ladder wouldn’t fall down. He’d asked her to go with him, but she couldn’t. He had only a small car, and the children wouldn’t fit. By that time the zombies were almost surrounding the building. They’d have caught the children easily.
She had nearly gone with him. Seeing the dozens of dead people walking slowly for the building, moaning and screaming as they came closer. She had been so ready to just grab her coat and run away with John. The children had all been asleep, it would have been so easy. But she had stayed. Someone had needed to protect the children.
A sign on the roof called for help. More signs, written by the children on the second day, hung from all the windows telling parents or rescuers to head to the back of the building where the fire escape was. She’d sent two children down it into a waiting mini-van on the second day. The mini-van couldn’t take anymore, they were full, and the zombies had circled them. But they had promised to return. She didn’t know the people, but she thought it was the safest option. The van never returned. She still woke up screaming at night dreaming about what might have happened to the two boys.
She walked back into the kitchen, taking stock of what they had. She’d stretched the small amount of food they had over two weeks. Everyone was hungry, but no one was starving, yet. The only food they had left was a five pound bag of oatmeal, a box of twenty chocolate chip cookies, a bag of white sugar, and a large bag of peppermint candies they would be out of food soon. Since the water stopped running six days ago they’d been surviving off of bottled water. There was a half filled, five litre jug sitting on the counter before her. There were plenty of drink mixes in the cupboard but they weren’t any good, except as a treat.
She wished a radio station, or news station was still on the air. She hadn’t gotten a signal in the last twelve days. The electricity worked though, so the kids had all the movies they could stand. But Rebecca wanted to know if help was coming.
She laid down on the kitchen floor, using her jacket as a pillow and tried to sleep.
**
She woke up to darkness. Her eyes felt like sandpaper as she blinked. Looking at the clock she realized she had slept for four hours. A new record. She laid her head back down willing herself to sleep. When she closed her eyes though, the faces of the children sleeping next door surrounded her, with hollow cheeks and sunken eyes they moaned like the zombies outside. She opened her eyes.
Ricky and Todd, the two boys she sent into the unknown, sat in front of her. Todd was licking his hand. No his hand wasn’t there. He was licking a bloody stump. His skin was grey like a zombie. he just looked at her, and took a bite of his own flesh.
Rebecca bite her lip to stifle a scream, and looked at Ricky. His face was bloody as if someone had been beating him. She could barely see his eyes beneath the bruises. “They hurt me, Miss Anthony,” he slurred. Blood welled out of his mouth, his teeth were broken.
She screamed.
**
“
Miss Anthony, wake up!” someone screamed at her. Hands grabbed her shaking her hard. “Wake up please! You’re scaring us!”
Rebecca swung out blindly, in terror. Her arm hit something, children cried out in pain. She woke up and looked around. All the children were in the kitchen around her, Angela and Michael were on the floor rubbing their heads crying. The rest were scrambling away in fear.
Rebecca reached out to the two children she had hit. Embracing them she said, “I’m so sorry. I was having a bad dream. I didn’t mean to knock you down,” the sobbing slowed down, but didn’t stop. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You did a good job of waking me up. I’m sorry.”
The younger children came up and hugged her. “Its all right,” one of them said “We forgive you,” a little boy whispered in her ear.
They sat like that for a long while. The children cried into her shirt and hugged each other, letting all of the pain, loneliness and fear they had suffered for the last two weeks out of their systems. Finally Rebecca looked at the clock. It was still five hours till dawn.
“
Its time for everyone to go back to bed,” she told them in a strict voice. “We have lots to do tomorrow.”
They slowly filed out of the kitchen back into the play room. She watched from the doorway until they were all laying down. Closing the door she went, and closed the blinds to the window that overlooked the play room beside the fridge.
Turning on the light she looked at herself in a small mirror. She looked terrible. Her eyes were black from lack of sleep, almost like someone had punched her. The blouse she was wearing was soaked with tears and snot from the crying children. She went to the cupboard and pulled out a spare t-shirt she always brought to work. It was nearly as dirty as the blouse, but at least it was dry.
Hanging the blouse over the cupboard door she thought about what to do. There was barely any food left. The water might be stretched for another two weeks, if everyone only had a single small glass a day. The problem was Rebecca didn’t think she would last that long. Maybe if someone was there to help her she could handle it. But for all she knew they were the last living people left. She wasn’t sleeping at night, that last nightmare was mild compared to her usual ones. During the day she was keeping the children alive. If she had some goal rather then just sitting down waiting for help it might be different. If a single song played on the radio, she could have persevered. But there was nothing. Just static.
She thought of the problem to herself as she tried to sleep. They didn’t have enough food or water to last much longer. They were going to the bathroom in buckets. Possibly everyone in the world was dead. If anyone alive could help, they weren’t here yet. She wasn’t sleeping more then two hours a day. The children were barely holding it together. They were screwed.
Turning off the light she opened the curtain. All of the children were sitting up and talking. She wondered what they were talking about. Rebecca turned the light back on and went to the cupboard.
**
Rebecca opened the door and walked out backwards with a little wheeled table. The children looked up worried that they’d be punished for being awake.
“
Hey kids who wants some juice and cookies?” she asked with a huge smile.
The kids swarmed her, grabbing the plastic cups and holding them up to her as she poured the juice. After they all had a drink she passed them each two cookies. The children drank it down savouring every drop of the juice. Rebecca ate her own cookies and drank sitting on the floor with two of the youngest children on her lap. She sang to them, lullabies, songs from a dozen different kid shows, and their favourite singers. When her throat got sore she had them sing to her. Within an hour, everyone had cheered up, and she was able to turn off the light. She also turned the heat up.
Rebecca stepped out of the room taking her coat and a spare blanket with her. Walking along the hallway she made her way up to the roof. She stopped to look at the stars, they were so bright now that the city was dead. She had never stopped to just look up at them before. But then she had hardly left the city. For maybe the tenth time in her life she saw the big dipper.
She decided that she had waited long enough and took off her coat. It took only a bit of pushing to get it and the blanket in place. She went back inside.
**
Three hours later Rebecca was sitting on her blankets with her back to the wall. She was tired, but didn’t want to risk falling asleep yet, there was still things to be done soon. Some of the children coughed in the other room, but none of them seemed to be waking up.
She sat up straight, someone was moving around. She went to the door and looked out, it was Angela. “What’s wrong Angela?” Rebecca asked.
“
My belly hurts,” Angela groaned, clutching her stomach.
“
Well you come in here and I’ll give you some pink stuff honey,” she replied, gently clutching Angela’s shoulder.
Angela took the medicine and made a face at the taste. “Can I sleep with you tonight?” she asked sleepily.
“
Well alright, but just tonight,” Rebecca said.
Rebecca sat on the blanket with Angela resting her head on her lap. Rebecca ran her long fingers through Angela’s blonde hair, and sang to her.
Angela closed her eyes and cried a little, thinking of her Mom and Dad singing to her like this. She grabbed hold of Rebecca’s hand and just held it to her face, remembering the happier times.
Rebecca kept singing using her other hand to stroke Angela’s hair. She felt the tears fall from Angela’s eyes. Even as she tired she continued singing, willing herself to stay awake. Angela’s tears finally stopped, and Rebecca heard a last, tired sigh escape Angela’s lips.
There was no more coughing, moaning, or movement from the other room. Rebecca wanted to go and look in on the children, to make sure everything was done properly. But she couldn’t bear to move Angela. Instead she kept singing even as her eyes closed, and her muscles relaxed from the carbon monoxide.
Her last thought was how cold Angela had gotten.
