Stay Inside

At first we hunkered down and barricaded ourselves inside, like they told us to. The TV anchors, while they were still broadcasting, and the radio stations before they went dead all repeated the same message: Stay inside and avoid anyone exhibiting symptoms. So that's what we did.

We boarded the windows to protect against looting and attacks. We kept the lights off so no errant beams of light could escape and reveal our presence. From the outside our house looked just as dead and deserted as all the rest.

After a while your eyes adjust to the dark, but your brain never really does.

We didn't go outside.

At first it was a blessing to not be able to open the windows. Every breeze brought with it the scent of destruction, decay and despair. But the air inside our little safe haven grew ever more stale and unbearable with the restless stench of sweat and desperation.

It had been weeks since we had heard a word amid the radio static and I don't know which was worse, the sounds of riots, attacks and screaming in our very streets, or the eerie calm that soon settled over the neighborhood like a stifling blanket.

Holing up at home was supposed to be only temporary, but instead of emerging from our hiding place to a reclamation of order and control, we had no choice but to venture out into a world as alien as a distant planet.

Not only had we run out of food, but our sanctuary was no longer safe.