The Lucky Ant?

"What are you two whispering about?" I say as I am lulled out of sleep by Mildred and Annie arguing in a whisper on the other side of the room.  They wait a second before responding, in case I happen to go back to sleep.  But I don't. 

The sun's rays peek behind the garbage bags that we've used to darken the windows in this room and wait out daylight.  I prop up on my elbows and wait for them to fill me in on their conversation.

"Annie thinks we need a gun," says Mildred through pursed lips and disapproving eyes.

"Oh." I say.  I've never liked guns -- and the thought that we might need one brings tears to my eyes.

"I think it's a good idea.  There's one in the master bedroom, next to the bed.  I think we should take it with us....just in case," says Annie.  I'm actually surprised that Annie is the one who wants the gun.  I would've pegged Mildred as the more aggressive twin.  But Annie is the nurturer, and maybe, the mother in her feels the need to protect her family.

"So, let's take it. At the very least we'll keep it out of the hands of someone who might misuse it, no?" I say trying to accommodate both their wishes.

Mildred raises an eyebrow, and Annie sits back against the wall happy that she's won this battle.  I hope we never need to use the gun, but I suppose it would be foolish to leave without it.  People do strange things when their survival is threatened...

"Are you going back to sleep?" Annie asks me as she lays back on the floor in a makeshift bed that we've created from blankets in the hall closet.  We've chosen not to sleep upstairs.  For some reason it makes more sense to sleep on the main floor in a darkened room.  The problem with not exactly knowing what variables you are dealing with -- is that there is no real 'right' answer.  Maybe it would be safer to sleep in the basement?  But for whatever reason we've chosen this room.  A metaphorical limbo of our two realities -- the past where we sleep upstairs, and our present where we sleep in basements.  For now, the middle floor of the house seems to suffice.

I forget to answer Annie, and she forgets to re ask the question.  She lets me wander alone in my thoughts drifting in and out of memories; melancholically contemplative, and somewhat detached.

"I miss Google," Mildred eventually says to break the silence.  We laugh.  Google would be very handy right about now. 

I run my tongue along the gums of my upper teeth.  They've begun to swell.  I have no idea how to treat this symptom.  Annie's poisoning is evident in the swelling under her eyes.  Mildred's hair has begun to thin -- and she has started to cough up blood.

There's something very beautiful about the human spirit -- and its desire to persevere in the face of all adversity.  The physical ailments are just the beginning of our battle.  We still have yet to deal with vagrants, hooligans, and the other remnants of society that are scattered around like ants who have been mostly washed away from the sidewalk with a bucket of hot water.  I'm that ant.  The one who was on the other side of the crack in the sidewalk.  Barely spared, but still affected.  And wondering, as I begin to slip back into sleep, if I will ever find a colony to call home again.