The Hungry Vortex

I stare at the Stereo for a few seconds, before walking over to it to click the tuner towards the radio setting.  There's nothing but dead silent air.  I push the 'seek' button but it scrolls continuously through both a.m. and f.m. without stopping, as if we were driving through a tunnel.  The world and all its music has been paused.

I feel a kind hand on my shoulder and turn around to see Mildred giving me a sympathetic smile.  "C'mon," she says and motions for me to follow her outside.  The night air has a deep chill unlike anything I've ever felt before.  It's as if the air itself is writhing from having sunburn.  It's colder and sharper, perhaps denser.

I follow Mildred to the trunk of the car to help offload the rest of our belongings.  Our thinking is that within the walls of the farmhouse, our clothes and food will have less exposure to the radiation.

"Here's the last of it," she says and hands me a case of canned fruit. I look at the sunny picture on the label and wonder if we will ever see that type of day again within our lifetime.  Mildred grabs my knapsack as we head back inside the house to bring the last of the food to Annie who is in the basement.  This house is the beginning of moderately damaged structures that we started passing in the car about an hour or so ago.  It still has its roof and the walls are intact, so we've chose to rest here for tomorrow's daylight.

I walk down the stairs towards the back of the basement where Annie is busying herself in the canteena.  She's collected the food that we brought and placed beside it a letter from us which states the date it was dropped off and where it came from -- so that people who travel here after us will have the option to collect food that is further away from the epicentre; and therefore, less radioactive.

We will be taking what we need from the rations that were lovingly stored in glass mason jars by a plump housewife -- who is no longer here.  I saw photos of her in the living room as I made my way towards the basement; and I take a quiet moment to give her gratitude.  The food she has collected over the years will serve us well; until we find more rations as we move north.

I walk away from Annie, and head back upstairs towards the living room.  My knapsack sits in the corner; the only remnant of my former life.  I have yet to go through it -- but I will at some point during the day tomorrow.  For now I sway quietly in the middle of the room pretending that a song that I love has just been requested by some couple celebrating their anniversary.  I sway to remember all the benefits that we once took for granted as a society; like boring nights at home -- and sunshine that won't kill us. 

I sway for them, this couple celebrating their anniversary -- whose only problem is along the lines of 'will they be able to go to work the next day after consuming way too much champagne'?  I sway for the Problemless; ghosts that lay all around us, whose smiles are gentle reminders of what opportunities are now lost.  And as I sway, quietly watching my feet slide across the old wooden floor, I notice that the toenail of my pinky on my right foot has become loose and slipped off.

Because here, in the dark and silent haze-streaked world of the living that is now our reality, I must sway to ignore the very real problems we are all facing.  Problems that are a direct result of the radiation that is all around us; consuming every healthy microbe in its path like a savage and hungry vortex.