The Greenland Diaries: Day 79
Last night, the world was only partially alive to the strange images summoned by the Drum. There were no lights buzzing in the gloom. No confused insects wandering about. No warm kitchens, bustling cars, or shadows of walking figures going from one empty room to another. There were no pictures to it all, but the sounds still echoed across the dark buildings in lost voices and harmonies. It was almost like the Drum was out of sync. Listening to the voices chiming about the shadows without any light to give them shape was more terrifying than watching the old world glowing about.
I kept trying to find the images to match the sounds, but only empty alleys and dark houses looked back at me. After a while I gave up, put my headphones on, and went to sleep with Snowy next to me. I kept my gun nearby. That one second wouldn’t matter if the Unnamed suddenly realized I was hiding in this shed. They’d tear it apart in seconds. I wouldn’t even stand a chance. It’s starting to weigh on me, the delicacy of my hiding spot. I’ll need to move soon. I’ll wear out my luck here eventually, and it’ll be game over for me.
In the morning, I started scouting around the houses looking for a new place to hide. I didn’t find anything. I’d say 40 percent of the homes in the neighborhood have imploded upon themselves in green crumbles. The weight of the plants will eventually tear down everything we’ve built. There is no stopping them. Every day, the vines get thicker. Ivy shuffles along the streetlights and broken-down cars. The grass gets longer, harsher, and covered with small flowers.
I couldn’t find anything I was satisfied with. It felt weird and invasive to be living in a stranger’s home, even if they were either dead or gone. Nothing felt right. Trees had fallen on houses just like mine. The weight of their eves has toppled them over with their roots mushrooming up in brambly clouds. Occasionally, you can hear them fall over the quiet neighborhood.
At night, they never fall, I don’t know why.
I walked all the way to where the neighborhood ends, and Highway 81 begins. The very last house on the left looked somewhat undamaged and in relatively good shape. It was a tall rambler, with an extra garage on its side. Barely any plants have coiled over it, and a few of the windows weren’t even broken. The moment I started walking up to the house, Snowy started to whine incessantly. She wouldn’t even walk up to the driveway, and her body started to shake so much, her tag jiggled.
“Hey! What are you doing here?”
It was the kid from before. He looked clean, green-eyed, and was dressed in brown shorts and a blue shirt. They were strangely clean. He walked out of the front door like an offended schoolyard bully.
“Take it easy, I’m not going to hurt you, I was just looking around your neighborhood,” I said.
“Why? Don’t you get the idea? This is my house, and you should just stay away from me.”
The kid was a bit of a jerk.
“Well, I can, but are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you have enough food?”
“I’m fine. I’m perfect. Now leave me alone.”
I looked around at the world and gritted my teeth.
“Perfect?”
“Yes, perfect. Now stay away from. You don’t want to know me.”
“Well, there aren’t a lot of us left, so we should stick together.”
“You don’t want to know me,” the kid screamed at the top of his lungs. The sound startled me, and I almost pulled my M16 up just by reflex.
“You don’t want to know me.”
I walked home shortly after the little conversation. Why wouldn’t the kid talk to me? What had happened to him? Surely, even a child can see that the living must stick together. I racked my brain about it all afternoon and early evening. Right before the Drum started, a few fighter jets flew overhead. I wonder what they were doing.
I wonder how many more times I’d see a plane rumble across the sky.
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