Isabel Rose

   A siren screamed through the bunker today. It must have lasted for at least ten minutes, and by the end I was ready to claw my ears off. It scared the shit out of me, to be perfectly honest, but there's nothing like a constant ear-splitting shriek to make you wish for the expected fatal disaster. When the noise finally – blissfully – fell silent, I heard the door unlock.

   You'd think, after two years of being cooped up in this room, I would have been out there in a blink. Fresh air. Open space. Answers to the myriad of questions that have been tormenting me.

   No chance.

   I made my first barricade. Everything that wasn't nailed down; the chair, table, settee, all pushed up and stacked against the door. I sat on the floor in front of it for hours after, just staring, waiting for something to come bursting in. George, with a big smirk and a 'oops forgot you were down there', maybe? The zombie?

   Ugh, I can't get zombies off the brain.

   Seriously, Rachael, maybe starving isn't that big of a deal. I still have a couple of months before then, anyway. Why not just stay right here, nice and safe, without any mean cannibalistic mutants biting my face off? I read once that radiation sickness can make the flesh melt from the bones or something equally nasty. Whether that's even remotely true or not, it has to be one of the worst ways to die, right?

   If I eat one ration every three days, that would stretch the food out quite a bit. Maybe I should have been doing that right from the beginning, one or two a day seems pretty damn excessive now that I think about it. 

   I know, I know, you're right. Should and could have's will get me nowhere.

   I'm really beginning to wish I hadn't read all those books. Not the informational ones George stacked – though they had their own share of horrors – but the novels full of the stuff that only exist in nightmares.

   Realistically, what can I expect to find out there? What if there are more than a few scattered survivors? People roaming the streets of even this lonely little village? Sure there may be some nice people out there, even ones who stick to themselves and avoid others at all costs... but there are going to be even more of the other kind. The bad kind. Man reverted to beast. Slaves. If food really is short, maybe even cannibals?

   You only have to take a glance through history to see what man is capable of. Maybe I shouldn't assume the government is gone. If anybody actually had a chance of surviving this thing, it must have been them. They knew what was happening, and they knew when. They pushed the buttons, after all. They must have their own secret bunkers – somewhere the newspapers never found. Could be they've already emerged and are putting things to order?

   I don't need other people. I don't want them. Still, it would be nice to not have to worry about them too.

   God, all I need to do is open that bloody door and half of these worries will probably be answered straight away. Why am I driving myself up the wall going over these again and again?

   Man up, Ava.

   I wish you could peek outside for me first. That's what friends are for, right? For chucking in the fire to see how hot it is?

  Okay, focus. I couldn't sleep last night, so I've got my travelling bag ready. I've got a few days’ worth of MREs as they're lighter than tinned beans – and to be honest if I ever see a bean again, it'll be too soon. There's a few litre bottles of water; I decided on two in the end. Any more and the bag would have been too heavy, but any less and I think I'd spend the whole time outside worrying about running out. Bandages and antiseptic spray from the first aid kit. I'll stick you and the pen in there just before we leave.

   I've got the gas mask along with one of George's old coats, it practically drowns me, but its thick and warm and full of pockets. I've got a torch stashed in there, small but powerful. That just leaves the crowbar.

   Am I really doing this?

   Removing the barricade is going to be quite a bit of work. Maybe I should just wait a few days until I've done that and stopped aching again?

   Procrastination. Right. Can you believe I learnt that word from Sabrina the Teenage Witch? Good times.

   I feel a bit like one of those boxers, just before a match. You know, where they jump up and down and shake their head and hands, loosening the muscles? Mostly, I just feel like an idiot.

   Let’s do this.

 

Things to do:

• Go outside.

Things I miss:

• My common sense!